CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY GIFT OF Dean Francis E. Mineka UNDERGRADUATE LIBRARY LPatc 5 D^i'^'^m BOOK «« fV' f=^W "^ IhH < SEMESTER Bf JDk- PRINTED IN U. S. A. car NO. 23233 Cornell university Library PR 4433.A35 Letters of Thomas Carlyje, 182^^^^^^^ $^ /Of^r r-^J^t?- LETTERS THOMAS CARLYLE COPYRIGHT By CHARLES ELIOT NORTON Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31 92401 3460757 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1826— 1836 EDITED BY CHARLES ELIOT NORTON ILonliott MACMILLAN AND CO. AND NEW YORK 1889 Aa.c^ •JLj V ./.» S^ ,>'>T' PREFATORY NOTE The letters contained in this volume have been selected from a great mass mainly ad- dressed to the various members of Carlyle's family. In the years in which they were written he had few important correspondents in the outer world. The letters as here given afford a tolerably continuous account of his life from his marriage to the period when his fame was about to be established by the publication of his French Revolution. Many interesting letters of these years appear in Mr. Froude's Life of Carlyle ; but they • are printed . with what in the work of any other editor would be surprising indif- ference to correctness, while the inferences drawn from them in Mr. Froude's narrative PREFATORY NOTE are sometimes open to question, sometimes unwarranted. In the editing of this series of letters, as in preceding volumes, I have been greatly assisted by Mrs. Alexander Carlyle. A small part of her share in the work is indicated by her initials affixed to some of the footnotes. C. E. N. Cambridge, Massachusetts, \oth September 1888. ,^ LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE I. — To his Mother, Scotsbrig, Ecclefechan. 21 COMLEY Bank [Thursday], 19M October 1826.1 My dear Mother — Had it not been that I engaged to let you hear of me on Saturday, I should not have been tempted to "put pen to paper this night " ; for I am still dreadfully confused, still far from being at home in my new situation, inviting and hopeful as in all points it appears. But I know your motherly anxieties, I felt in my heart the suppressed tears that you did not shed before my departure, and I write at present to tell you that you are not to shed any more. Jane has run upstairs for a few minutes to unpack the last remnants of our household luggage : I have but a few minutes to spare, and must give you matters in the lump. Jack would tell you of our being wedded after the most doleful ride (on his and my part) thither ; and then rolled off in the Coach towards Edinburgh on Tuesday mofning. . . . 1 Carlyle's marriage had taken place on the 17th. 2 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1826 Our journey passed without incident, and we arrived here in safety about nine o'clock, where a blazing fire and covered table stood ready waiting to receive us. On the whole I have reason to say that I have been mercifully dealt with ; and if an outward man worn with continual harassments and spirits wasted with so many agitations would let me see it, that when once recovered into my usual tone of health, I may fairly calculate on being far happier than I have ever been. The house is a perfect model of a house, furnished with every accommodation that heart could desire ; and for my wife I may say in my heart that she is far better than any other wife, and loves me with a devoted- ness, which it is a mystery to me how I have ever deserved. She is gay and happy as a lark, and looks with such soft cheerfulness into my gloomy countenance, that new hope passes over into me every time I meet her eye. You yourself (and that is saying much) could not have nursed and watched over me with kinder affection, wrecked as I am, by my movements and counter- movements ; all my despondency cannot make her despond, she seems happy enough if she can but see me, and minister to me. For in truth I was very sullen yesterday, sick with sleeplessness, quite nervous, billus, splenetic and all the rest of it. Good Jane ! I feel that she will be all to me that heart could wish ; for she loves me in her soul, one 1 826 TO HIS MOTHER 3 of the warmest and truest souls that ever animated any human being. . . . Yesterday and to-day we have spent in sorting and arranging our household goods, and projecting our household economy. She calculates at the moderate scale oi £2 per week : I am to give her two pound notes every Saturday morning, and with this she undertakes to meet all charges. At this rate, which astonishes myself far more than her, there can be no fear. She seems Thrift itself as well as Goodness. Of men or women we have yet seen none except the maid, a neat tidy damsel ; so of Tait or any other business I cannot speak one word. . . . You may send the butter and the cheese, and a firkin (by and by I think) of your best oatmeal. . . . Jane would not look at this letter, for I told her you so wished it. She sends her warmest love to you all. Is not mine still with you ? I have told her all that you said and looked that morning I went away, and she loves you all, along with me, and sorrows with me for your absence. My prayers and affection are with you all, from little Jenny upwards to the head of the house. Remember me to my Brothers, my trusty Alick (Jack must write) and all the rest. Mag and her sisters are not forgotten either. I will write again, when T have recovered my senses. Good-night, my dear Mother. . . \ Jane will write to you soon, so also will I ; you shall not want for letters ; or for love while there is life in me. Again I say 4 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1826 I will write when I have recovered [from] my bewilderment. Tell Jack to write to us in the meanwhile ; and fear nothing. — I am, forever your affectionate Son, T. Carlyle.^ II. — To Dr. Carlyle, Scotsbrig. 2 1 COMLEY Bank, Tuesday night - \p./^th October 1826]. My dear Brother — I write this to-night for two reasons. The first is : I have made Tait pay me ;^50 of my stipulated money,^ which sum I forthwith delivered in to the Com- mercial Bank, with directions that it should there be delivered out again to "Mr. Alex- ander Carlyle." Scott will have word to that effect to-morrow morning ; and Alick, directly after that, will have nothing more to do but show his trusty face at the office, and be repaid his magnanimous advance to me, the nature of which I never think of without affectionate regret. Tell him not to delay in this (you yourself know from experience the way of managing it) ; then to write to me very largely soon, as he promised ; and to believe that I am his true brother, while I live in this world. 1 Some parts of this, and of the next letter, are given in patchwork by Mr. Froude, in his Life of Carlyle (i. 368 369). The omissions and changes made by him are not indicated, but the tone of the letters is more or less affected by them, and his comment is misleading., As usual, the passages printed by him are defaced by errors of transcription. 2 A payment on account, for Specimens of German Romance published by Tait. 1 826 TO DR. CARLYLE S My second reason is : that I would give sixpence to see you here yourself at this very moment. I want to speak with you about many things, ut cum fratre, ut cum medico. When will you come ? Jane will be delighted to see you ; and for me your presence would be as a lamp in a dark place. Little Jean she does not want for some weeks yet : but there is room enough and to spare for both. You perhaps might walk for economy's sake, and Jane could come in the coach. To this hour I dare not let myself out about my matrimonial views ; for I am yet all in a maze, scarce knowing the right hand from the left in the path I have to walk. To complete the matter I am still billus, and imperfectly supplied with sleep : no wonder therefore that my sky should be tinged with gloom. I can- not explain matters yet ; but by and by I doubt not I shall see it all. Meanwhile tell my Mother that I do believe I shall get hefted^ to my new situation, and then be one of the happiest men alive. Tell her also that by Jane's express request I am to read a Sermon, and a Chapter with commentary, at least every Sabbath evening to my household ! Also that we are taking seats in church, and design- to live soberly and -devoutly as beseems us. Our Mother also, Jane says, is to come and see us, and we are not to be divided in heart, though separated in place. On the whole this wife of mine surpasses my hopes : she is so tolerant, 1 Habituated. 6 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1826 SO kind, so cheerful, so devoted to me ! O that I were worthy of her ! Why am I not happy then ? Alas, Jack, / am billus : I have to swallow salts and oil ; the physic leaves me pensive yet quiet in heart and on the whole happy enough ; but next day comes a burning stomach, and a heart full of bitterness and gloom ; for I feel well that with health far more than ever my happiness is connected. Will you come and see me, and let us take counsel together ? My little wife will do everything and all ; and surely through the strength of Heaven something reasonable, right and happy may be made out by proper regulation among us. Certainly at this moment I should be among the happiest of men, if I were not among the unheal thiest. In addition to all this, I made a vow some days ago to give up my tobaceo for three weeks, a piece of abstinence that afflicts me not a little, and of course still further darkens my views. Here are Murray and Mitchell come to drink tea with us, and Jane and they are struggling for talk. I cannot say another word. ' Come if you can — riding or walking. May the Great Father bless you all every one with His own blessing! Fear not for me; for I shall soon feel otherwise. Come, or tell me at least whether you are coming. O Murray, Murray ! Good-night, Jack ! — I am ever thy Brother, T. Carlyle. i826 TO HIS MOTHER 7 Tail's Book and mine is to be out in a month — without any further addition at all. He knocked under when I saw him, and seemed to admit that in very truth he knew nothing either about Goethe or Richter, or anything connected with them. He is keen for new engagements. If you cannot come pretty soon, write to me when you are coming. After all it makes little matter ; only the sooner you come I think it will be as well, and I shall be the gladder to see you. Adieu. I am in better spirits already, and shall be still better to-morrow. III. — To his Mother, Scotsbrig. 21 COMLEY Bank, \(>th November 1826. My dear Mother — . . . To-day I have taken Time by the forelock, and begun writing directly after breakfast ; and now mindful of your oft-repeated injunction, I will tell you truly how I am, and not hide from you "the very worst." The chief thing I have to complain of is uncertainty. As usually happens with me, in all changes, this greatest and most important I have ever made has overset all my accustomed habitudes, and so driven me a good deal to leeward in my whole procedure : and though this is now the fourth week of my marriage, I am by no means "come to,"^ as you would say, or yet "hefted "to Ts\y rx^-^ gang? The con- 1 Come to myself, recovered. ^ Settled in my new course ; said of sheep or cattle, accus- tomed to the new place of pasturage. 8 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1826 sequence is considerable irregularity in regard to health, and of course to spirits and life generally. I have not yet learned to exist here without drugs ; and this to you will ex- press the whole essence of my situation. . . . Surely, surely there is nothing so untoward and unmanageable in my circumstances as to excite despair of regulating them into happi- ness and order ! Except this one considera- tion of drug-taking, I have positively nothing in the world to complain of My good little wife is the best of all wives : I declare I am astonished at the affection she bears me, and the patience with which she listens to my dole- ful forebodings and turns them all into gay hopes. In every thing great and little she gives me entirely my own way ; asking, as it seems, nothing more whatever of her destiny, but that in any way she could make me happy. Good little girl ! Sometimes too we are very happy ; in our trim quiet house, sitting by our own tea, with a good book in my hand, and a clear fire on the hearth, I feel as if all would be well, and far better than my best expectations. From her I can anticipate no hindrance in any arrangement of my life I may see good to adopt : I firmly believe, in the poorest cottage of Scotland, with me happy beside her, she would be the blithest wife in Scotland too. Courage, therefore, I say to myself: one way or other, it must and shall be ordered for good ! Give me a little time to sift it and settle it all, and then to fasten on it with rigid half so well spite of in our my giant am i so over- 1826 TO HIS MOTHER 9 perseverance, and the evils of my lot will at length lie beneath my feet ! On the whole I ought to be ashamed of complaint : a hundred times in my life I have been far worse in health than I am, and never in all other particulars. In drugs, I sleep quite passably bed ; and were it not that I anxious to be well I should not let my illness discompose me.-' Now this, my dear Mother, is the worst and the very worst ; and so having told it you, my conscience is at rest, and I beg very earnestly that your imagination would be kind enough to exaggerate no whit of it, for in very truth if you saw me you would think far less evil of me than this letter will give rise to. Fear nothing, my dear Mother ! We are all living and life-like, and honest and true, having injured no man, fearing or hating no man, and owing no man anything but love. By and by it will all be right and well, one way or other ; for I feel within me strength to 1 These minute details as to his health were naturally and kindly given by Carlyle to still his Mother's anxieties. She was extravagantly apprehensive and pitying, and always full of needless solicitude concerning her absent children. On a wet night, she would give a sigh and say " Sirs, what a night ! What will become of poor so and so ? " and if her children were all safe within doors, and she knew of no person likely to get wet, she would begin to compassionate the cattle and worry her heart about them.— This disposition of his Mother's had undoubtedly an ill -effect on Carlyle in confirming his tendency to dwell on the conditions of his health. lo LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1826 regulate a destiny twenty times as complex and perverse, when once I have seen clearly ■what it is. Of my employments I can tell you little : sometimes I read, sometimes I write a little (generally burning it in disgust soon after), often I walk ; for they are on the starving system with me, and in truth I find it better than any other. . . . The Book is not yet published, though I have nothing more to do with it. Tait does not seem to have made up his mind completely as to the time, though I suppose it will be shortly. You shall have a copy by the earliest conveyance. When it is published I purpose sending copies of it to some of the literati here, and perhaps procuring their acquaintance. I have more than one scheme of employ- ment ; but I suppose none can take effect till after the " German Romance " is .out. Tait is very fond of a Literary Newspaper [project], but I have given him small encouragenjent. Brewster is not yet come to Town. Of other visitors we have not wanted plenty ; but except news from James Johnstone (who seems to be doing very well), they have told us nothing of any moment. I despair of getting from my Mother any as satisfactory account of her affairs as this I have now sent of mine. Will you make Alick write. . . . But I must end : I promised Jane a post- script, and you see how little room is left. Good-bye, then, my dear Mother; consider 1 826 TO HIS MOTHER ii this as a bilious letter, and you will find the purport of it not black but whitish. — I am forever, your affectionate Son, T. Carlyle. (We go to church, and read a sermon to the household every Sabbath.) [Postscript by Mrs. Carlyle. J My dear new Mother — Every day since we came here I have purposed writing to you, and every day have put ofif till a better morrow. I wished to send you glad tidings of great joy ; that your Son was well and happy beside me, and that we had got all the burble of this life unravelled and adjusted. But alas ! Man proposeth, God disposeth, and we are still, some of us, in the Slough of Despond. Nevertheless you must not let your kind heart be troubled, for with all its drawbacks, our lot is far from unhappy. We love each other, have done ill to no one, and one of us at least is full of hope. How few in this vale of tears have it in their power to say as much. After all, then, there is really nothing to complain of ; and it is not impossible, nay highly probable, that we shall yet have great cause to rejoice. Hope with me then that all will ultimately be well. And love me as your own Daughter, which I [now am]. Jane Carlyle. IV. — To his Mother, Scotsbrig. COMLEY Bank, gM December 1826. My dear Mother — ... I am getting more and more habituated to my new condition of 12 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1826 life, and discovering more and more how much reason I have to be thankful that my lines have fallen to me in such happy places. My health, which for the first few weeks had suffered con- siderably by the agitations and disquietudes of such a change, seems now to be restored to something like its former state ; at least to a state quite as good. . . . Doubt not, my dear Mother, that all will yet be for the best, and that the good purposes of Providence shall not fail to be fulfilled in me. I feel as if I had much to do in this world ; not in the vain pur- suit of wealth and worldly honours, which are fleeting as the breath that can bestow them ; but in the search and declaration of Truth, in such measure as the All-wise shall see meet to impart it to me, and give me means of show- ing it to others. With such views of my voca- tion, I have good reason to rejoice in it, and often instead of envying the blind slothful com- fort of the men of the world, I bless Heaven that I have had strength to see and make choice of the better part. Why should we be troubled about many things, when there is but one thing needful ? This one thing you and I call by different names perhaps ; but the mean- ing of both, I have always asserted, is the same. Jane continues generally well, and we live in peace and unity, so that it were a pleasure for you to behold us. . . . We have had immense quantities of visitors here, all calling down upon us with one accord the most unexampled blessings of Heaven : 1 826 TO HIS MOTHER 13 some of them are agreeable persons, and with these we purpose keeping up some little quiet intercourse ; the rest are of the butterfly tribe, and these we dismiss with fair speeches to flutter forth into some more genial climate. Dr. Brewster I have seen more than once ; he and his wife were even civil enough to call for us here. The Doctor is in the blackest humour about the " badness of the times " ; as in truth he has some reason to be, being involved in lawsuits with his booksellers, perplexed with delays in his Encyclopaedia, and finding pub- lishers so shy of embarking in any of his schemes. These things do not distress me very much : when I hear people mourning over the gloom and misery of the times, I think : Poor fellows, there is a far more pitiable stock of material within ourselves than in the times ; of which so long as we get food and raiment, we have no right to complain. Is there not " aye life for a living body " ? In fact, however, I am rather ill off for something to do at present, and I feel con- vinced clearly enough that this is the great evil I have at present to complain of. I read and study, and keep myself from being idle ; but this is not the kind of thing I want ; and to do what I want, or even to commence it, I find to be no easy enterprise. Tait also encumbers me a little : the body lingers and hangs off in publishing this Book, which is now quite ready, and waiting only for those everlasting "better times " ; and till it come out there are several 14 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1826 of my projected enterprises that cannot take effect. However \ suppose he must move in a little while ; and then I shall move too. Per- haps it is better as it is : for if I could heartily commence some book of my own, of the sort I wished, it would do far more for me than any mere publishing or editorial engagement, how promising soever. Brewster still talks of his Literary Newspaper ; but I somehow feel as if it would never take effect. I have two or three other things in my eye : of these you may hear more as they assume a clearer shape to my- self . . . [Postscript by Mrs. Carlyle.J My dear Mother — I must not let this letter go without adding m.y "be of good cheer." You would rejoice to see how much better my Husband is, than when we came hither. And we are really very happy ; when he falls upon some work we shall be still happier. Indeed I should be very stupid or very thankless, if I did not congratulate myself every hour of the day, on the lot which it has pleased Providence to assign me : my Husband is so kind ! so, in all respects, after my own heart ! I was sick one day, and he nursed me as well as my own Mother could have done, and he never says a hard word to me — unless I richly deserve it. We see great numbers of people here, but are always most content alone. My Husband reads then, and I read, or work, or just sit and look at him, which I really find as profitable an employment as any other. i827 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 15 God bless you, and my little Jane whom I hope to see at no very distant date. — Ever affec- tionately yours, Jane B. Welsh ^ {sic\. V. — To Alexander Carlyle, Scotsbrig. Edinburgh, 2 1 Comley Bank, wth January 1827. My dear Alick — I stand indebted to you for two Letters, to say nothing of the ample supply of kitchen ware which attended the last, and of which we have all this very day been en- joying portion. The tardy resolution of Mr. Tait at length enables me to acknowledge your claims : our wavering Bookseller has deter- mined on publishing on the 1 5th January ; the Books are all shipped for London, and I have brought over one to-day to send down for the amusement of your Winter evenings at Scots- brig. My sincere wish is that you may find in it twenty times the satisfaction its intrinsic worth can give you ; of the writer, I know, you will not fail to think with all the favour he can desire. . . . Of my own proceedings here I have little that can be considered definite to tell you. I am not unwell, not worse than I used to be in health ; and my good helpmate is all to me that I could wish. But as yet I have no occu- pation ! There lies the rub : and truly if you heard the Bookselling tribe talk about the 1 This postscript by Mrs. Carlyle is. printed in Froude's Ufe, i. 377. i6 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 "badness of the times," you would think there was never more to be any occupation for lit- erary men in this world. . . . Nevertheless I am not a whit downcast in spirit : employment I firmly believe will come some time ; in the meanwhile I study not to idle, and determine like ^ wise Christian man, to cut my coat ac- cording to the cloth ; and hard it will go with us, if even from this scanty web sufficient covering for all real uses cannot be found. In a general way I am comparatively very much at my ease here ; when billusness allows me a respite I am even happy. For I have long learned to cease expecting what I once thought happiness on this earthly ball ; long known that there is a root of bitterness in the bottom of our cup which all the honey in the Earth cannot hide from the experienced palate. Happy he who learns to drink it without wincing ! Happier and wiser who can see that in this very bitterness there is a medicine for his Soul, far better than the bitterness of gen- tian or bark or any of Jack's many bitters for his body ! There is much true philosophy in Dermot's remark to his unruly neighbour : "I say, Paddy Blane, will ye compose yourself to your pratees there ! " Such is a sketch of my philosophy of life ! But could you not come up hither some frosty week, and learn it all far better by word of mouth ? I assure you we could accommodate you very prettily, and depend on it, your new Sister would give you the heartiest welcome. i827 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 17 Positively there is a spare bed here ! And you would see Edinburgh, and Macwhirter and all of us, and might stay at Hawick the first night, and walk hither so neatly before the next. Really if you are doing nothing for a week, what might hinder you ? And I and all of us would find it so pleasant. Think of it before the Spring, and the busy seed-time when you cannot come. . . . I have many things to ask, far too many for the selvage of a sheet. Have you sold Larry yet .-* There is a horse I often meet here which recalls the wild beast to memory. And is Keevil^ still with you ? I positively intended buying him some snuff, but feared lest it might interfere with the other wares in the parcel. Will you give this half-crown instead, secretly, as a new-year's gift from me to the trusty marine ; to buy him awls and darning needles, and otherwise- keep his pocket ? His heart would rejoice in the prospect of war ; but there is to be none. Do you get the newspaper regu- larly ? It is meant to come to you on Monday morning. — Up to this night I purposed to give you this Book, my dear Alick ; but recollecting that our Father had never got aught of the sort from me, I seemed to feel it my duty to give it to him. He will not read it, I know, 1 " Richard Keevil, a wandering, innocent creature from the Gloucester cloth-countries latterly, who came to my Father's n a starving state, and managed gently to stay five or six months, — a favourite and study with us younger ones." — Letters and Memorials of Jane Welsh Carlyle, i. 97 note. C i8 LETTERS OF THOMAS 'CARLYLE 1827 but Others of you will, and -he will like better to see it. For a new-year's ^iityou, therefore, have nothing, my dear Brother, but a new assurance of my love. But this I know you will not re- ject. Be content with it ; come and see us if you can ; and believe me always, your true Brother, T. Carlyle. The Ham seems to be of the very best Dumfriesshire species ; we have hung it up to dry. The meal also is excellent : many thanks for all ! The kam really ornaments the pantry. VI. — To Alexander Carlyle, Scotsbrig. 21 COMLEY Bank, -^d February 1827. My dear Alick — My conscience had begun to reproach me for my long silence, and I was about to write this day, without regard to the commercial principle of Debtor and Creditor, well knowing your bustle about this season, when to quicken my resolve your gratifying Letter came to hand. . . . Jane said, " How cleverly that Alick writes ; but I suppose he must have learned from you." Thus I get the credit to myself, which belongs to Nature. But do you never mind whether you write " cleverly '' or not ; but continue to tell me of all and sundry in the old style ; re- membering that it is not the cleverness but the copiousness of your intelligence that chiefly con- cerns me. Word that all is well in Annandale, though written with the end of a burnt stick, is better to me than all the wit of Poets. . . . 1 827 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 19 Next Letter you must tell me what you are ploughing and sowing, building and pulling down, what you have bought and sold ; in short, give me a full-length picture of Scotsbrig as it is. My Mother cannot write currently, or I am sure she has a hundred things to say. But tell her there is a good time coming, and Summer will give us all full, tidings of each other. Are you sure she is as well and com- fortable as of old ? Does Mary still mind her with the same steadfast fidelity ? Tell that kindest, glegest,^ and shortest -tempered of Nurses that I shall owe her a buckling-kame^ of the best quality, if she prove true till I come down. Poor thing ! I know she needs no bribe to be so ; for a truer-hearted soul never breathed in this Earth ; and to me her short temper was many times converted into singular patience and long-suffering. — I heard some talk of Jane's coming up hither, as was long since arranged : but the " sister " will write a postscript herself Our situation here at Comley Bank con- tinues to be unexceptionable, nay, in many points truly Unviable. Ill health is not harder on us than usual, and all other things are almost as one could wish them. It is strange too how one gets habituated to sickness : I bear my pain as Christian did his pack in the Pilgrim's Progress, strapped on too tightly for throwing off; but the straps do not gall me as 1 Gleg, acute, alert. 2 A back-comb, for fastening up the hair. 20 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 they once did, and I wander on, enjoying in my walk the beauties of the road, like any other green -wallet. In fact I believe I am rather better, and certainly I have not been happier for many a year. Last week, too, I fairly began — a Book ! Heaven only knows what it will turn to ; but I have sworn to finish it ; and I hope it will be something praise- worthy at last, and though only a rvowell may be one of those that are read by " Some in Middlebie Parishin." You shall hear about it as it proceeds ; but as yet we are only got through the first chapter. You would wonder how much happier steady occupation makes us, and how smoothly we all get along. Directly after breakfast, the "Goodwife" and the Doctor evacuate this apartment, and retire upstairs to the drawing-room, a little place all fitted up like a lady's work-box ; where a " spunk of fire " is lit for the forenoon ; and I meanwhile sit scribbling and meditating, and wrestling with the powers of Dulness, till one or two o'clock, when I sally forth into the city, or towards the sea-shore, taking care only to be home for the important purpose of consuming my mutton-chop at four. After dinner, we all read learned languages till coffee (which we now often take at night instead of tea), and so on till bed-time, only that Jane often sews ; and the Doctor goes up to the celestial globe studying the fixed stars, through an upshoved window, and generally comes down to his porridge about ten, with a nose dropping at i827 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 21 the extremity, and red as a blood-pudding. Thus pass our days in our trim little cottage, far from all the uproar, and putrescence (material and spiritual) of the reeky town, the sound of which we hear not, and only see over the knowe the reflection of its gas-lights against the dusky sky, and bless ourselves that we have neither part nor lot in the matter. I assure you many a time on a soft mild night, I smoke my pipe in our little flower-garden, and look upon all this, and think of all absent and present friends, and feel that I have good reason to "be thankful that I am not in Purgatory." ^ Of society we might have abundance. People come on foot, on horseback, and even in wheeled carriages to see us ; most of whom Jane receives upstairs, and gladly . despatches with assurances that the weather is good, bad or indifferent, and hints that their friendship passes the love of women. We receive invita- tions to dinner also ; but Jane has a Circular, or rather two Circulars, one for those she values, and one for those she does not value ; and one or other of these she sends in excuse. Thus we give no dinners and take none ; and by the blessing of Heaven design to persist in this course so long as we shall see it to be best. Only to some 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 1 Richard Keevil's advice to persons complaining of trivial vexations. — M. C. 22 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 entertainment but a cordial welcome and a cup of innocent tea. Few Wednesday evenings, accordingly, when some decent soul or other does not step in, and take his place among us ; and here we converse, and really I think enjoy ourselves far more than I have witnessed at any beef- eating and wine-bibing convention which I have been trysted'^ with attending.^ . . . I had almost forgot to tell you that I have in my pocket a Letter of introduction to Jeffrey of the Edinburgh Review : it was sent to me from Procter of London ; one of these days I design presenting it, and you shall hear the result. . . . — Believe me ever (my dear Alick), your affectionate Brother, T. Carlyle. VI r. — To his Mother, Scotsbrig. 2 1 COMLEY Bank, Saturday, 16th February 1827. ... I told Sandy that I had a letter to Jeffrey the Advocate. Last week I went up one evening and delivered it. The little man received me in his kindest style ; talked with me for an hour, though very busy, on all possible things ; and really proved himself by much the most agreeable citizen of Edinburgh that I had ever met with. I am sorry the man is so immersed in Law ; otherwise it is possible enough we might even become friends. He 1 Afflicted. 2 The last two paragraphs are given in Froude's Life of Carlyle, i. 379 ; incorrectly. 1 827 TO HIS MOTHER 23 invited me repeatedly to come to the " Court " any morning, and he would introduce me to various people, among others to Sir Walter Scott. I have not gone yet, being little care- ful of such introductions. He also spoke about writing in his Review ; but I told him he must first read the German Romance to see what manner of man I was, and then we might determine if I could suit him. We parted in the friendliest style, mutually tolerant of each other. In a week or two, we may perhaps meet again.^ — The German Book is getting praise rather than censure : I was about sending Alick a copy of the last Examiner Newspaper, where it was rather sensibly criticised. The man praises me for this or that : but then, it seems, I am terribly to blame for condemning Voltaire and the Sceptics ! This is exactly as it should be. But what care I for their reviews ? I have begun another Book, which if I had rightly finished I would not give a fig for them all ! It is to be a curious book this ; but I hope a good and even moral one ! It proceeds slowly, yet con- stantly day after day. — Now, my dear Mother, I really must stop : I have not room to write one half of the questions I would put to you about your health and habits and welfare. Is there any thing that I could do for you? I. know you will answer Nothing ; and yet it is 1 It is of interest to compare this contemporary account of Carlyle's first acquaintance with Jeffrey, with that given by him forty years afterwards in his Reminiscences, ii. 235. 24 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 not SO ; but till Summer I shall hardly see. — My kindest affection to all, from my Father down to Jenny, name by name, for even now I recollect them all. If Alick do not write soon, I will write again. The selvage as usual be- longs to Jack.i Good-night, my dear Mother ; I am ever your affectionate and grateful Son, T. Carlyle. VIII. — To his Father, Scotsbrig. 2 1 COMLEY Bank, Tuesday \End of March, 1827]. My dear Father— I need not say how gratified I was to see your handwriting, after so long an interval, and communicating such pleasing intelligence as your little letter brought us. Let us all be thankful that we are still spared in the land of the living, to be a comfort to one another in our pilgrimage, where so many, perhaps more deserving than we, are left desolate and friendless ! While we are preserved in health and peace, and food and raiment con- venient for us is provided, with kind friends to love us and be loved, what more have we to ask ? I should have a long string of news to send you, for it is a great while (too great, had I not been so busy and uncertain) since I wrote : but by this time, as I calculate, Jack must be in the midst of you, explaining everything by word of mouth much more satisfactorily than it could be done by pen and paper. To his tidings I 1 i.e. Jack is to fill up the margins of the paper. i827 TO HIS FATHER 25 have only to add, . bringing them down some thirty hours later, that we are still all well, and going on exactly in the same style. He will have told you of a notable project we have formed of coming down to live in Dumfriesshire by and by ; not frightened by the wildness of the Dunscore moors, but preferring the free life of the country, on any terms, to the cage-like existence of the city, even here on its outskirts. Both Jane and I are very fond of the project ;^ and if Alick dare venture going with us, I think the whole affair may be most beautifully adjusted. Jack we would set up as a doctor in Dumfries ; the rest of us would farm, and write, and labour each in his sphere ; peaceable and well, and living almost in sight of one another, at least (allowing fleet horses) within half a day's riding of each other. If all this take effect, I shall have cause to bless this application of the London Booksellers to me as one of the most provi- dential occurrences in my life. For though not positively ill in this place, I can rationally entertain very little hope of ever getting com- pletely well ; and Pain, however one may learn to bear it quietly, is no such desirable companion that one should not long in any honest way to be rid of it. I am waiting, with considerable hope, to hear more definitely from these London men, to consult the landlady of Craigenputtock, and settle a great many other etceteras, in pre- paration for this enterprise. The whole, I think, 1 " To his wife he did recognise that the experiment would be unwelcome," says Mr. Froude, Life, i. 386. 26 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 Xo^s pretty fairish, as Keevil says : but so soon as anything definite is done, you shall hear from me again. Meanwhile it is comfortable to think that we are all going on so tolerably, even without any change. Happy that you are now free of General Sharpe,^ and independent of all men ! The gallant General has poured out the whole vials of his wrath, and this same whole amounts to very little. For my own share, I have only to pray that Heaven would be kind to both him and me, and give us both some increase to our little fraction of wisdom, which, in the one case as in the other, does really seem too small. I expect from Jack a long narrative of all that is going on at Scotsbrig ; of your plough- ing and your sowing ; the sheds you are to build, and the whole import of your proceed- ings there. The Corn Bill, it would seem, is to do you no ill ; and certainly, taking one thing with another, there is every reason to hope that henceforth you will get along as comfortably in that concern as you have done in any other. With myself too, I am confident the worst is past, let things turn as they may. My little wife truly loves me, and will be happy sharing any fortune at my side ; a blessing, when I consider it, which may pass almost for the half of the whole matter of life ; and certainly with- 1 See Reminiscences, i. 49. General Sharpe, of Hoddam, afterwards M.P. for the Dumfries Burghs, had shown himself an unreasonable landlord in dealings relating to the lease of Hoddam Hill. i827 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 27 out which no comfortable life would be possible. She thanks you for your blessing, and returns it with hearty sincerity. By and by I hope we shall all be acquainted, and united, and far happier than we could ever have expected. — My paper is done : my truest love to all, from Alick to Jenny !^ — ^I remain, my dear Father, your affectionate Son, T. Carlyle. IX. — To Alexander Carlyle, Scotsbrig. 21 COMLEY Bank, 2gth March 1827. My dear Alick — It is long that I have partly been owing you a Letter ; and last time when Parries ^ was here, with his eggs and hen, we had so short an allowance of time, that ex- cept two little notes to my more immediate creditors (which with one from Jane to Mag, and a small cubical junk of some less intellec- tual substance, I hope you properly received), 1 could not afford my valued husbandman a single word. It was the less necessary, as Jack was proceeding homewards, or rather had arrived at home, and so could communicate to you all our ordinary news, as well as some other schemes of ours, which required your more special deliberation. I am now to write to you farther on the same subject. We have had a Letter from the Hunts ^ in London since Jack left us ; and this of a much less promising texture than its prede- 1 The carrier between Ecclefechan and Edinburgh. 2 The London publishers who had made overtures to Carlyle. 28 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 cesser ; for the people now talk of risks, and great sales that will be necessary to " cover their outlay," and seem to indicate that for six months at least they would not only not wish to "undertake," as they call it, but also not even to make a formal bargain of any sort. This, I have written to them, will by no means answer me, who desire to put pen to paper forthwith ; and accordingly, I have stated that I would wait other ten days before coming to any con- clusion ; but that, if within this period, it was not settled at least that there was to be a bar- gain betwixt us, I should hold myself no longer bound to them, but at liberty to accept or reject any future offer of theirs, as they were at liberty to make or withhold it. Next week, about Friday or Saturday, I expect to hear from them again, or to infer by their silence that nothing, for the present at least, is to come of their speculation ; which latter result I cannot but reckon as probable as any other. Thus then, so far as aid could come from Covent-Garden, our notable project of deliver- ance from city imprisonment, into mountain freedom, were at a stand-still, or perhaps as good as overset ; and the hope of cultivating the Craig 0' Putto must be left to other hands. But there has come help from another quarter ; and we are now at liberty to deliberate that scheme on more certain grounds. Jane's Mother, whom Jack must have met journeying towards us at Noblehouse, not only warmly approves of our project, but has also offered to 1 827 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 29 procure for us (which she can do without much difficulty) the sum necessary for starting it under fair auspices. The present Tenant, it appears, has paid no rent, and is hke to pay Httle for some time ; neither has there any Tack ^ been signed in regard to the place ; so that his hold on it is extremely slender. Let us now con- sider, therefore, what is to be done. For my own part and the "goodwife's," we are very strongly bent indeed upon the scheme. Town -life, though it is without many of its annoyances here, is still extremely little to my mind ; and many a time do I regret the liberty and safe seclusion which the country affords one, under many attainable forms of it ; nay, which I had attained not so long ago on the top of Repentance Hill, tyrannical Squirelets, and un- just stewards to the contrary notwithstanding. Indeed it seems plain enough that I have very little chance of ever getting completely well here ; and though I bear a hand, and try to stave off the Devil as I best may, and sometimes not without considerable success, my whole hopes and wishes point to a life in the country as the only scene where I might by and by get delivered from disease, and so have room for my strength, any little fraction of strength that I have. Craigenputtock is wild enough ;^ but the house could be brushed up and rendered water-tight, and elegantly furnished (with the ware we have here), and for the land itself much might be done. At all events, it is the country, 1 Lease. 30 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 and our own, which latter point in itself might overbalance twenty others. As for Jane, I think there is little fear that her tolerance would be less than mine : in good sooth, she is a true wife, and would murmur at no scene or fortune which she shared along with me. Now the next thing is for you, Alick, to ask yourself, whether you could think of pitching your tent there, and durst undertake the tenant- ing of these stern moors beside us ? , If you answered yes, there were nothing to hinder us from beginning to calculate the details of our enterprise forthwith ; nay, for aught I know, it might not be impossible for you to take posses- sion of the place the very Jirst Whitsunday, and so having it all ready for us the next ! Of the terms we could live together on, I shall say nothing : you recollect The Hill,^ and how quietly and amicably all was managed there, without ever a jarring word ; a result in which many times since, I have had reason to admire your prudence and tolerant conduct, often much wiser than we fully gave it credit for being. All the farm-produce that we would need, horse- keep and hen -keep, etc. etc., would be easy to manage. If you continued single, you might live with us, and the kitchen and back -parlour would be your own sphere and domain ; or if you thought of wedding (in which, however, I need not tell you, it is good to look before you leap), you might have a house of your own, either the one at the road, or some other that 1 Hoddarn Hill. 1 827 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 31 we might contrive for you nearer the offices. Jane and R ^ could live near each other, I do believe, on a very comfortable footing. And then we should so improve those bogs, and clear out those plantations, and form hedge-rows and cabbage-gardens, and live under the shadow of our own beech-trees, and none to put us in fear! I desire you to consider all this matter with your calmest judgment, and if you are inclined to engage with it, say : Done ! Yet let not my eagerness sway you, for I can only estimate for myself; and on you would lie a responsibility, which I cannot pretend to direct you in. I confess, however, I am very fond of it ; and not the smallest of my reasons is that in this manner the whole of us might still be kept together. From all that I have learned, there seems to be a fair opening for our Body-curer ^ in Dumfries ; nay, I think he has a ^^(?flf chance to succeed, if he tried it rightly ; and theii do but think how pleasant to be all planted down within sight of each other ; our Father and Mother and all that we cared for in the world within a half-day's journey ! As I am only scheming this business afar off, I cannot propose to you any definite arrange- ment ; not till I have first heard your general feeling, and whether you think it feasable or not. You might cast up in your mind what 1 This initial stands for the name of a girl in whom Alick Carlyle was interested at this time. 2 Dr. Carlyle. 32 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 sum it would take to put yoti down there, in addition to the stock you have already (for repairing of the house, and settling our plenish- ing vcv it, I have reckoned about _;^ioo) ; what rent, deducting pony-grass, etc. etc. ; and above all, whether you would care to let the Lady- Wells stand for this season, and take as a grass - farm, to " keep your stock together," those " excellent pasturages " at the Craig o' Putto. In the latter case, as perhaps in any case, it would be better for me to come down, and settle all by word of mouth. You will write to me frankly and at large, as soon as you possibly can. . . . Of my Mother I must not begin to talk : I am sure she will rejoice in this prospect of having me near her, and drinking tea and con- suming tobacco-smoke beside me as in times gone. Tell her that I am not ill at present, and shall certainly one way or other get com- pletely well. I have not abandoned the Book, which has long ago been christened " Wotton Reinfred" : only these Hunt people have knocked me sadly ajar ever since they started their scheme, and poor Reinfred has been living not growing for the last three weeks. Never- theless, I spend my forenoons, till two o'clock over him ; and Jane reads my writing when I have gone out to walk ; and you will be happy to learn, always " approves of the Essay." If these Hunts do not give me their Translation, I expect to have Wotton in print before quitting Edin- burgh ; and that will be as well or better. . . . 1 827 TO HIS WIFE 33 [Postscript by Mrs. Carlyle.J Meditate all this in the profoundest silence ; if our scheme get wind before the time the man ^ will be ^' gey ill to deal wi'."^ X. — To his Wife, Edinburgh. SCOTSBRIG, Saturday night \_i6th April 1827]. Dearest Wife — ^What strange magic is in that word, now that for the first time I write it to you ! I promised that I would think of you sometimes ; which truly I have done many times, or rather all times, with a singular feeling of astonishment, as if a new light had risen upon me since we parted, as if till now I had never known how precious my own dearest little Goody was to me, and what a real angel of a creature she was ! I could bet a sovereign that you love me twice as well as ever you did ; for experience in this matter has given me insight. Would I were back to you. . . . But I have no leisure for investigating these 1 The tenant of Craigenputtock. 2 " 'Thou's gey' (pretty, pronounced gyei) ' ill to deal wi' '■ — Mother's allocution to me once, in some unreasonable moment of mine," is Carlyle's note on this phrase (which, indeed, is an old-fashioned country formula), cited by his wife in a letter to his mother in December 1835 (letter printed as No. 11 in Letters and Memorials of Jane Welsh Carlyle). The readers of Mr. Froude's Life of Carlyle will remember that he harps upon this phrase, using it as a sort of refrain, but always with the significant change of the word " deal " to " live " — " gey ill to live wi'." At least six times in the course of his narrative does he repeat it in this form. D 34 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 ^garemens du cceur, which may be discussed much better by word of mouth. The house is smoking, and I am tired to death ; having slept only four hours since Alick and I returned from Craigenputtock, this morning between three and four o'clock ; our cattle and ourselves uninjured indeed by a ride of 70 miles, but all heartily saddle-sick. — " Well, Sir, and what did you see at Craigenputtock ? "■ — I saw green fields far greener than I had anticipated ; Nature doing her part to maintain her children ; and such a scene of human sloth and squalor as I scarcely think could be paralleled within the county. Mr. Blacklock we did not see : he was down on a pleasure excursion to [Glenessland] Distillery, with certain of his womankind mounted on two shelties ! Better, I thought, if he had taken a rake and scraped away a little of the filth and glar with which all parts of his premises, from the cow-stall to the parlour (literally) were in- undated ; better if he had been thatching his stript mill-shed, or mending one of the many holes and gaps in his stone dikes! In fact, Jeannie, I must rejoice particularly that I have taken this journey; for I came upon the people unawares, and all the nakedness of the land was revealed to me. It is my decided opinion that this Blacklock will never pay any proper rent ; and if the Craig o' Putto were mine, I really think I would almost rather build a ring-fence round it, and leave it gratis to the tee wheels} than allow such an unprincipled (I fear this is the 1 Lapwings. i8z7 TO HIS WIFE 35 -word, unprincipled) sloven to farm it for money. I spoke of thinning the plantations ! By Jove, they have rather need of thickening : at every gap in the dikes you find somewhere between a dozen and a score of young trees cut down as if they were so many broom twigs, and carelessly dashed in to stop the gap, in place of building in the stones ! Nay, Alick and I computed some two hundred yards of wattle-work (vul- garly called stake and rice ^) absolutely formed entirely of young firs, some of which were as thick as my leg at the butt : the whole number of them we reckoned between two and three thousand. I should add, however, that most of this must have been the work of Tom Mac- queen ; only some twenty or thirty yards seemed to have been repaired (with rather thicker trees, I thought) by Blacklock. But what totally took away from me all pity for the man, and made me use the harsh word unprincipled, was this fact, palpable beyond discussion, that the scoundrel had actually wintered his cattle (I mean had them lying over night through winter) in the heart of that long strip of plant- ing that runs transversely from the height down towards the water ! The fence had been broken down ; and there had the kyloes been ranging and rubbing, and eating and breaking ! Had he taken a furnished house in Herriot-row and driven in his cow to eat her draff" and dreg on the Brussels carpet of the drawing-room, I could sooner have forgiven him. It was alto- 1 Brushwood. 36 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 gether damnable. We tried to ascertain by inspection whether the gaps by which his bullocks had found access to this comfortable shelter had been accidental or intentional : one of the places was half and the other three-fourths filled up ; so that we could judge but vaguely ; and all the charity we had corroborated the evidence for the milder hypothesis. The dam- age done extended indeed only to a score or two of yards ; for the cattle had been of Christian spirit : but the spirit of their owner was too well marked by it. — But why dilate on these things ? The man is an utter and arrant sloven ; and had simply gone upon the principle that most probably no mortal concerned in the farm would ever see it during the lease. . . . Old Nanny came and pressingly entreated us to have some tea ; nay, attempted to allure us with the offer of clean blankets,^ and excellent horse provender, to tarry with her all night. She sent you and your mother about a hundred sets of compliments, and inquired again and again if she was not to see you before Whitsun- day? Poor Nanny has been ordered to flit, it seems; and "'tweel,"^ says she, " I'll be very wae." She walked with us to the gate ; insist- ing much on the propriety of seeing everything with one's own eyes, and of the greater and greater propriety one would find in it the longer one looked ; and hinting at last with much 1 Sheets are even now an almost unthought-of luxury amongst the Scotch peasants. — M. C. 2 'Tweel {that welt), indeed. 1 827 TO MRS. WELSH 37 circumspection that all was not as it should be with Blacklock ; " and wiser folks than me will be cheated," said she, "if he can do any- good in it." We cut short poor Nanny's innuendoes ; and with great cordiality wished her a thousand good-nights, the voice of her " compliments " still sounding "over the heath," when herself was out of sight. Now quceretur: what is to be done.'' I think, on all accounts, even if it were not on our own, these men are to be got out ; nay, if they will not go peaceably, packed out. . . . You will write on Tuesday night " to lie till called for"; and tell me all you think and feel and know. On Wednesday you send the Examiner hither, where it is too likely it may still find me. . . . I scarcely know what I have written ; for my eyes are half-blind ; and I am wearied and fond and wae, and bewitched and bedivelled, and "feel a kind of inclination to bark."^ — ^Good- night, good-night, my darling wife, my dear wee wife ! . . . Be sure to write. A Dieu ! XI. — To Mrs. Welsh, Comley Bank, Edinburgh. SCOTSBRIG, Thursday, igih A^rii [1827]. My dear Mother — Had there been a moment of time left me last night, I would have written to you from Dumfries, and in- formed you four and twenty hours sooner of the happy issue of our tedious negotiation : 1 Letters and Memorials, ii. 322. 38 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 but it was towards eleven at night before the higgling ceased and the papers were fairly signed ; and then Alick and I had nineteen rough miles to ride, and moreover were afraid of being robbed by rascally Irishmen in the Trench ^ of Lochar Moss, for we were carrying money in our pockets. The two Blacklocks were at their post wait- ing for us ; and after between eight and nine hours of incessant discussion, varying through all stages, from "An' please your Honour" to "Damn it, Sir!" we settled with them, and they are to travel at Whitsunday ^r^/, on what I conceive to be pretty equitable principles for all parties. . . . On the whole, I feel much mollified to these Blacklocks : the William one in particular (him of the trees) I absolutely pardoned, nay at one period felt a real pity for. A poor innocent, timid, underfoot body, that could not hurt a fly! He winded and -twisted under my accusa- tions ; and at last all that could be brought home upon him was that he had little money, little wit, less malice, and was nowise fit for farming Craigenputtock. I declare, my heart warms yet to the poor soul when I think of his long nose and cowering attitude and meek sub- missive aspect. Nay, towards Ready- Money Jack himself, though he shifted first from nothing to a hundred guineas, and then to sixty pounds, I bear no sort of spleen : on the con- trary, I think him a most stout sufficient fellow 1 A squalid hamlet, near Dumfries. — M. C. i827 TO MRS. WELSH 39 (who would have farmed your land well had he resided there himself), and for a catde-dealer, honest and direct. We all parted in fair spirits, and fine fellowship, with cordial shaking of hands : your health was drunk in fiery punch, and I upbraided for my whiggism because I joined not beyond tea-spoonfuls in that noxious beverage. We left them drinking lustily with another man from Closeburn, heedless of the " lang Scots miles " : "I was fu' when I got it," said Jack ; " and by I'se be as fu' when I Q^ut it [ " — The crop business (the only knotty point of the arbitration) can hardly be more than a matter of ;^30 or so ; and really I think if the judges do iwt give it against us, we ought almost to give it (or the value of it) against ourselves, that is, in case the Drovers behave themselves, for really they have had a poor year. And now, my dear Mother, let me congratu- late the whole household on this auspicious re- sult, which I hope in God will be good for us all. To me it gives the fairest chance of re- covering health, the only thing I want for being .the happiest man this sun shineS' on : my dear wifie's happiness is bound up in mine, and yours in that of us both. To thank you for your care of us would be but useless : the temper of mind it displays was not unexpected, but is still in- finitely precious to me ; and for the present I shall only say that it shall go very hard with me, if you have ever reason to repent of what you did. May God bless us all, and keep us all united in affection and true conduct to the 40 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 end ! — But I must not grow too serious here : besides I am encroaching on poor Goody's sheet, which is but tirling the kirk to theek the choir : ^ I will not tell ^ou but her when I am coming ; but I daresay you will work the secret out of her by and by. — I am ever your affectionate Son, Thomas Carlyle. To (Ae Wife.' Not unlike what the drop of water from Lazarus's finger might have been to Dives in the flame, was my dearest Goody's letter to her Husband yesterday afternoon. Blacklock had retired to the Bank for fiifteen minutes ; the whirlwind was sleeping for that brief season, and I smoking my pipe in grim repose, when Alick came back with your messenger. No, I do not love you in the least ; only a little sym- pathy and admiration, and a certain esteem.; nothing more ! — O my dear best wee woman ! — But I will not say a word of all this, till I whisper it in your ear with my arms round you. Such a day I never had in my life ; but it is all over and well ; and now " Home, Brothers ! Home ! " — I have meditated all this morning whether I could get back on Saturday, by galloping up to Beattock to catch the Mail ; but at last I have decided that it will not do. So many things are to settle with all parties ; even William Graham I cannot see till to- 1 A Scotch proverb, stripping the church to roof the choir. 2 Part of this letter, written on the same sheet as the pre- ceding, is printed in Froude's Life, i. 390. 1 827 TO HIS WIFE morrow evening, and Alick and I have yet agreed, indeed I may say talked, on nothing specific. So I have settled that Jack and I are to ride off to Templand on Monday morn- ing (Jack talks of proceeding farther on a visit to Kirkchrist), and on Tuesday evening I will bring you news ! This night I am sending off a letter for that purpose to little Auntie.^ Grandfather too I may front, now that the whole business is adjusted. O Jeannie! How happy shall we be in this Craig o' Putto ! Not that I look for an Arcadia or a Lubberland there : but we shall sit under our bramble and our saugh-tree ^ and none to make us afraid ; and my little wife will be there forever beside me, and I shall be well and blessed, and the latter end of that man will be better than the beginning. Surely I shall learn at length to prize the pearl of great price which God has given to me unworthy ; surely I already know that to me the richest treasure of this sublunary life has been awarded, the heart of my own noble Jane! Shame on me for complaining, sick and wretched though I be ! Bourbon and Braganza, when I think of it, are but poor men to me. O Jeannie, O my wife, we will never part ; never through Eter- nity itself! But I will love thee and keep thee in my heart of hearts ! — That is, unless I grow a very great fool— which indeed this talk doth somewhat betoken. 1 Miss Jeannie Welsh,livingwithherfatherat Templand, "so lovable to both of us."- — Reminiscences, \. 157. 2 Willow-tree. 42 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 For thou see'st, Goody, I am at the bottom of my paper, and there is no room for any sentiment whatever. Well, I come on Tuesday night and tell you all. The kettle will be sigh- ing wistfully on the brazen winter, and tea of choicest flavour, and kisses sweeter than am- brosia will greet my arrival! Unless — the coach be full ! But do not let this disturb you ; I will come next night; and that is "all the same " •} is it not ? No, nothing like the same, Sir! Be good bairns till my arrival. Let the needlework be ready : would I were there to see it ! God bless thee ! — Ever, ever thine, T. Carlyle. Jack is dunning me fiercely to get ready for drinking tea with Dr. Arnott, my neighbour, the Doctor that got Napoleon's snuff-box f a man whom you and Mother may see soon, and both like. — Alas ! Alas ! Poor Gilbert Burns !^ Are not our houses built on ice ? — My Mother has come up with best wishes from all and sundry. XII. — To Alexander Carlyle, Scotsbrig. 21 COMLEY Bank, \oth May 1827. My dear Alick — . . . The most important part of my present commission is to direct you to call at Annan on Thursday for Fifty Pounds 1 A phrase sometimes used by Dr. Carlyle, but generally when it was "all quite different." — M. C. 2 Dr. Archibald Arnott, of Kirkconnell Hall, had been Napoleon's physician at St. Helena. — M. C. ^ Died 8th April 1827. Mrs. Carlyle had mentioned his death in the letter, to which this is an answer. 1 827 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 43 which I this day paid into the Commercial Bank for your use/ the further supplies not being ready yet for a few days. . . . I know not whether you immediately require a larger sum ; but if you do you have only to speak ; for after Monday ;^ioo will be lying at our disposal here : Tait having paid me the residue of my debt, by a Bill convertible (at his expense) into Cash in the course of four days. I was not bound to take a Bill at all,, but hard money, the sum being due on the 15 th of April; but the poor man put on such a rueful countenance, that I could not in common charity refuse him. My assent to this harmless measure seemed to roll a mill- stone off his heart ; and in the excess of his gratitude he even made me a present of another Copy of the German Romance, which I am about sending off to Mr. Robinson^ of London, who had right to expect one of me. I hope, with this, therefore, that for the present I have done with Tait, and that my next Book- seller may be not worse but better than he. . . . My pen is very bad ; I am in a hurry too, and can write to no purpose, except as Dr. Ritchie said, " on the point — and the bare point." I have not told you of my journey, which was tedious but safe, and brought me 1 In stocking the farm of Craigenputtock ; Alick Carlyle (having taken a lease of it) went, along with his sister Mary, to reside there at Whitsuntide. 2 Mr. Crabb Robinson, one of the few Englishmen who at this time had some acquaintance with German literature. 44 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 to this " bit hadding d my ain, fra that "^ before late night. Since then my days have flowed along as quietly as heretofore ; after rather too large an allowance of idleness, I again betook me to my Book ; in which though making but sorry progress, I am determined to persevere to a conclusion in spite (to use the words of Landalls) "in spite of the Devil and all his Angels" (Bile included), who I cannot but suppose must naturally be rather anxious, for their own sake, to stop my progress. Of adventures with men or things I have had none worth mentioning : indeed often enough I visit not the town all day ; but turn my steps in the opposite direction towards the Frith, where I have already bathed four times, with great brevity ; and I hope more profit than pleasure. I wish to Heaven only, I were not such a blockhead, but could either write better at my task, or be satisfied with worse. In the meantime we must just do the best we can, boy. . . . Tell my Mother that we will certainly come and see her, whether the reek is cured or not, though surely it would be no worse if it were. Tell her also that she must be pre- pared to spin socks at the Craig, otherwise things will not do. Meanwhile I am going to ask her for a box from Scotsbrig the first time Parries travels hither. For she must know our oatmeal went done last night, and there is nothing here of that sort to be com- pared with yours. 1 ^^ Bit dwelling of my own, for all that." 1 827 TO DR. CARLYLE 45 . . . Jane sends her best regards to one and all : tell my Mother that she had actually made me a waistcoat (I have it on even now) during my absence, and the prettiest in my possession. Good -night, my dear Alick! — I am ever your affectionate Brother, T. Carlyle. XIII. — To Dr. Carlyle, Scotsbrig. 21 COMLEY Bank, i,th June 1827. My dear Jack — ... Of my own history here since I wrote last I need mention only one or two particulars. Everything goes its course ; I fight with dulness and bile in the forenoons as of old ; I still walk forth dili- gently ; talk de omni scibili, when I can find fit or unfit audience ; and so live on in the old light -and -shadow fashion, much as you knew me before, only with rather more com- fort and hope than with less. Jane too is well and good as ever; and within these few days has set to studying German in earnest. Mrs. Welsh is still with us ; but about to depart, the pleasures of Edinburgh being indeed evidently exhausted for her at present. Our evening parties still continue their modest existence. . . . Poor Wotton^ has prospered but indifferently since I saw you ; though daily on the anvil ; 1 The hero of the novel then in hand ; " the work proved to be a dreary zero, and went wholly to the fire." — T. C, in an unpublished manuscript, written in 1 869, intended for an introduction to the Letters and Memorials of Mrs. Carlyle. 46 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 the metal is too unmalleable, often indeed quite cold, and the arm and the hammer have so little pith! At present his further history is altogether stopped by a new enterprise. One day I resolutely buckled myself up, and set forth to the Parliament House, for the purpose of seeing our Reviewer.^ The little jewel of Advocates was at his post ; I accosted him, and with a little explanation, was cheerfully recognised. " The Article ? Where is the Article ? " seemed to be the gist of his talk to me ; for he was to all appearance anxious that I would undertake the task of Germanising the public, and ready even to let me do it " con amove" so I did not treat the whole Earth not yet Germanised as a " parcel of blockheads ; " which surely seemed a fair enough request. We walked on to his lodging together ; dis- cussing these matters. Two days after, having revolved the thing, I met him again, with notice that I would "undertake." The next Number of the Review, it appeared, was actually in the press, and to be printed off before the end of June ; so that no large Article could find place there, till the succeeding quarter. How- ever I engaged, as it were for paving the way, to give him in this present publication some little short paper ; I think on the subject of Jean Paul, though that is not quite settled with myself yet : and thus, O Jack, thou see'st me busily occupied with a new trade ! On the whole I am rather glad of this adventure ; for 1 JefTrey. 1 827 TO DR. CARLYLE 47 I think it promises to be the means of a pleasant connection : certainly Jeffrey is by much the most lovable of all the literary men I have seen ; and he seemed ready, nay, desir- ous, if time would but permit, to cultivate a further intimacy. We were to discourse together at large some day, he projected, at Craigcrook ;^ and I was to call on him, as (depend upon it) I had more time than he. Es ist ein gutiges Wesen. But enough of him for once. To-day I had such a packet of letters all in a rush ! A letter from Mrs. Montagu ; and enclosed in the same frank, a sublime note from Edward Irving, full of praise and thanks expressed in the most wondrous dialect ; and last, or rather first, for that was the paper we pounced on most eagerly, a dainty little letter from — Weimar ! The good man has Knighted me too ! Did you ever see so polite, true- hearted, altogether graceful a note ? At the same time there is a naive brevity in it which, in admiring, almost makes me laugh. Read and wonder. [Here followed a copy of Goethe's letter of 17th May.] And now we are all impatient to know what \!a3.\. paquet that is coming "over Hamburg" will bring us. You shall know so soon as the new-made Knight or Baronet receives it. " With the truest wishes recommending myseU I" 1 Jeffrey's delightful summer home, " one of the prettiest places in the world." " Craigcrook was within a mile and a half on our own side of Edinburgh : always humanly open when one liked."— T. C, MS. 1869. 48 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE i8z7 [Postscript by Mrs. Carlyle.J Beloved Doctor — Sir Thomas has left me but little space for a postscript, knowing that this was the second day of a nice plum-pudding and my condition of course such as to you I need not explain — very unfit for writing to any purpose. Why do you not keep your word with me? I have been long waiting the promised letter, but I suppose every time you take out your paper and pens, you bethink yourself of the furious quarrel about the roses, etc. etc., and resolve anew that you will have nothing to say to so cross-tempered a creature. But I am greatly improved in that item, as you will soon have an opportunity of convincing yourself, — so soon as this article is off our hands. Poor Wotton. Dear Wotton ! He was grow- ing such an angel of a Hero. But Sir Thomas has given me his hand that " it shall be done!' You will observe we are all getting titles now, my dear Moon. — Evermore yours, J. W. C. XIV. — To Alexander Carlyle, Craigenputtock. 2 1 CoMLEY Bank, Tuesday \20th June 1827]. My dear Alick^ — Not without some diffi- culty I have contrived to raise the wind ; and here you have a receipt for another Hundred Pounds, which as I understand it, you have only to present at the office of the British Linen Company Bank, and indorse (I suppose with your own name, but they will direct you i827 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 49 at the Bank, for perhaps there is no indorsation needed), in order to get the cash paid down to you. . . . On the whole the place must before all things be stocked ; so I think you ought to proceed forthwith to the outlay (in cattle, etc.) of this sum ; at least so soon as you see any right opportunity at Bucklivie or else- where. . . . If you want a little more money for that purpose, I think I can still command it even on the spur of the instant : but unless these hills be a better bargain than I wot of, you will not need much more, I think, immediately. I grieve to think that the House must be standing untouched, and the season so rapidly hastening away. I am making what speed I can ; and I think by the end of next week I shall be about ready for meeting you, perhaps shall have already met you. . . . I reckon myself about half done with this Jean Paul Friedrich Richter ; which I regret to say, pleases me only indifferently the length it is gone. So soon as it is done I shall have nothing more to detain me ; unless perhaps the correcting of the proofs, which however can be sent after me. This is not to be the great "Article"; which does not follow till next Number of the Review. We had a call from Jeffrey the other day, in person ; one of the daintiest little fellows in this country. I will describe him at large when we meet. . . . Will you write to me as soon as possible, and at full length : we shall want much to hear so LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 from you before setting out for the South ; and much is to be considered which I have no time for considering. Employ your own head and hand, my good Alick, and get us nicely through these entanglements. I think there is no danger of our speculation [not] prospering. I often wish I were at the Craig even now ; for living here, I do not think I shall ever be healthy. Perhaps I shall never be healthy anywhere ; but at all events I will try all things ; never cease "though I should go to Jerusalem seeking health, and die by the road ! " ^ — Courage ! Courage ! — Present my best brotherly affection to Mary, of whom I hear so much good ; write to me the first hour you have leisure "a broad letter."^ — Believe me always, your true Brother, T. Carlyle. XV. — To Alexander Carlyle, Craigenputtock. 2 1 COMLEY Bank, Tuesday \p.bth June 1827]. My dear Alick — You must not quarrel with this shortest of letters, for I am in the heat of a hurry ; and this writing is to let you know that, for some time at least, no more writing will be needed. I have got done with my Article, which is to be printed, I believe, this week ; Jane and I are going out to Haddington, to arrange with 1 A phrase of his father's changed for the occasion. — See Reminiscences, L 49. ^ Broad leUer, pronounced thus in Border ballads. 1 827 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 51 Donaldson^ about moneys (at least that is my errand) ; and on Monday morning first (we come from Haddington in a day) we set out for Templand, and the Craig o' Putto. I know not what sort of a shop you keep there ; but Jane as well as I must come and see. Did they send you a bed up from Temp- land ? If not, never mind ; our stay (or rather her stay) must only be the shorter. Do not discompose yourselves about this invasion : who cannot take such as you have, should apply elsewhere. But, indeed, I doubt not, as in most other cases, everything will be far better than it seemed through the medium of timorous imagination. Where you are with those that love you, if you cannot put up with all mere wants of comfort, you must be a very odd fellow. . . . But the cream of the matter is this. Can you send two horses (of almost any kind) over to Templand on Tuesday first (this day week) ? If not send me one on Monday night, and I will come over with it myself next day. I know not whether Larry is with you, or how to do in the arrangement of the thing. But you will see how it stands, and to your direc- tion I will leave it. One horse to Templand on Monday night to bring me ; or two on Tuesday night to bring us both. — Templand is within three bowshots of the Cample bridge (farther down it is) on the road between Thorn- ' hill and Dumfries, — some furlong or two from it. 1 A lawyer, the Welshes' man of business. 52 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 Dear Alick, excuse this incoherence, for you have no idea how I am beaten about at present by haste. My kindest love to Mary ; who, I know, «r?(?joices ^ at the thought of seeing me again. Tell the good soul that her Sister is no Lioness, and will not eat her, but likes her very well. Appoint our Uncle John to come up when you please, according to these "regulations." We go to Scotsbrig after leaving you ; perhaps we may come and go for a time. My soul is longing for the Country and Larry. I have written to Jack that I am coming. Adieu, my dear Brother ! — Ever yours, T. Carlyle. XVI. — To Dr. Carlyle, Scotsbrig. COMLEY Bank, Monday night \p.']th August 1827]. My dear Jack — . . . Almost the only really good thing I have ever done in this world was the helping you forward to knowledge ; which, be- lieve me, you will yet find to be no worthless or sorrowful attainment ; for however human nature may cavil and complain in its impatience, this culture is and continues the one greatest blessing which can fall to the lot of any man. Nay, I may say, if we speak of true culture, which, however, does not always dwell in col- leges nor is always excluded from poor moor- land huts, it is the only blessing which an immortal mortal would strive for. 1 A Scotch preacher, in a sermon which Carlyle had heard, so pronounced rejoices. — M. C. 1 827 TO DR. CARLYLE- 53 But I must pause. The tidings of Alick's intention^ do not surprise me much, and cer- tainly do not grieve me in any wise. If it make himself happier, it will make the whole arrangement lighter to us all. Jane, too, is very glad at it ; for the difficulty of settling Alick's manner of existing in the house had not a little perplexed her. I shall expect to hear from him, and soon to see him. Of our ownselves expect nothing strange. All is as it should be, at least as it was. Jeffi-ey has sent me a note requesting the Opus Majus by the middle of next month, and enclosing a draft of twenty guineas for the article on Richter. You may conceive whether I am in a hurry, for I have not yet put pen to paper ! I have merely been reading Horn, somewhat of Fichte, Schelling, etc., and have not yet shaped the thing into any form. Jeffi"ey is to call here one of these days : I saw him at Craigcrook for a few minutes, and found the little fellow friendlier than ever. I have written the Erwiederung to Weimar,^ and by this time I suppose it is in the middle of the German Ocean, if not already at Cuxhaven. — You see I am over with it! Excuse abruptness, error, and even stupidity. — I am ever your affectionate Brother, T. Carlyle. 1 Of marriage. 2 See Correspondence between Goethe and Carlyle, p. 13. 54 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 XVII. — To Dr. Carlyle, Craigenputtock. COMLEY Bank, t^th September 1827. My dear Jack — . . . Since all matters look so towardly, I think certainly you ought to go, and look at this Munich,^ and acquire this Surgical Knowledge, the want of which forms such a "bar of obstruc- tion " to your contented settlement in this country. I myself am by no means blind to the advantages likely to result from such a journey ; and though I doubt not you very greatly overrate them, perhaps after all they may more than repay you. For one thing, you will return home with another sort of reputation than you can look for at present : a Doctor all the way from Bavaria, jette poudre aux yeux ; for most people are not so convinced as I that the great school for learning both Medicine and every other thing is the brain itself of the learner. Unspeakably the greatest advantage I anticipate for you is the intercourse you are likely to have with cultivated men, and the im- provement in regard to polish of manners and what the Germans call Welt, which you are almost sure to derive from such a society as Eichthal's must be. He himself seems one of the best bred persons extant. By all means, therefore, bestir yourself, and set forth getrosten Muthes. . . . 1 Dr. Carlyle had been invited by Baron D'Eichthal (uncle of Gustave and Adolph D'Eichthal, the young St. Simonians, of Paris), whose acquaintance he had made some time previ- ously, to come to Munich. 1 827 TO DR. CARLYLE 55 Of course you will not come to Edinburgh till you cova^ for good, that is, I mean on your way Munich ward. You will need a suit of clothes, unless you should prefer employing a German Schneider; with various other etceteras, the preparation of which will consume some time. Meanwhile would it not be highly use- ful to lay about you for some statistical books and histories, and other representations of the country you are going to ; that so you may not visit it an entire novice, but in some degree prepared to expect what you see ? I would have some History of Germany by hook or by crook ; though in your case, I confess, I know not directly how it might be come by. Per- haps even Coxe's History of Austria is not at Annan. Do what you can : the best can do no more. There is one consideration which must not be kept so In the background, but brought forward to the front of the stage, and rigidly overhauled : I mean the consideration of what in the English language is called Money. Sorry am I that than at this moment I was hardly ever poorer. Jeffrey's draft I have not yet dis- covered the proper bank for, that circumstance being omitted in the letter, and he himself having never showed face since. Were it not for that body of reserve, I believe about seven potmds sterling would exhaust nearly all the house could muster ! . . . Nevertheless, surely, Jack, thou shalt not be fast among us all for such a sum as this. Tell me, after due com- 56 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 putation, how it all stands ; and the sum must be raised one way or other. . . . In fine, my dear Jack, I take my leave, in the deepest distress of body and mind because -■ — tea is not yet come. Compose your agitated spirits, my dear Doil ; and let me hear from you, with your first convenience. — Ever your faithful Brother, T. Carlyle. XVIIL — To Alexander Carlyle, Craigenputtock. COMLEY Bank, \ith September 1827. My dear Alick — ... I suppose he [Jack] has mentioned to you that I had thoughts of starting as candidate for one of the London Professorships.-' This must be kept among ourselves as much as may be ; for it seems nearly certain that I shall actually make a . trial ; though the thing as yet is full of perplexity. Rhetoric, the class I once thought of applying for, has, I now find, as yet no existence ; and I hang for the present divided between English Literature and Moral Philosophy ; with a considerable leaning towards the latter. I wait for advice from Edward Irving, and Henry Duncan of Ruthwell, to both of whom I have written (Duncan's letter goes with yours), and both of whom know much more of the details than I do. For one or other of these classes, it is almost certain that I shall become a competitor. 1 In the London University, recently established by Brougham and other Liberals who were now seeking for Professors. i827 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 57 Jeffrey, whom I talked with at large of the matter, seems to augur rather favourably of my success in Moral Philosophy : both Jane and I dined with him at a country place of his called Craigcrook last night, and had a really pleasant five hours of it in such fine society. Jeffrey evidently has a high opinion of me, and even seems to like me well ; though he thinks I am a little extravagant or so ; or, as he calls it, " too German." We shall see what comes of this ; it is all to be settled in November. If I go to London, the mansion of Craigen- puttock and its silent moors are likely to see much less of us ; only, at most, some two months yearly. On this, however, it were very rash to calculate at present ; for that I shall not go is certainly by much the likelier issue of the business : indeed, the good and evil of the two are so very nearly balanced, that I really care very little whether I go or not : on healthier days, I am clear for going, and teaching all the Earth to be wise ; but again on bilious days I care not one straw what becomes of it ; for I think that in the wilderness of Craigenputtock I should be stronger in body, and I feel that the thing which lies in me will be spoken out, go whither I may. Surely, surely, it were good for a man to have some anchorage deeper than the quicksands of this world ; for these drift to and fro so as to baffle all conjecture ! We will leave the issue, as should ever be done, with the higher powers. Meanwhile you do well to get forward with S8 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 that House on the Moor ; and glad am I that the tickhsh part of it has been got so softly over. It will be a home for us at least in all weathers, and a kind of grim stronghold, betide what may. I long to hear how it is all going on ; how your crop stands these rough winds, what hay you have collected, how your peats have proved, and all other etceteras. Jean, I suppose, is with you by this time, and, as I suppose further, heartily satisfied with the Plea- sures of Solitude, which thereabouts can be so plentifully commanded. My best love to her, and hopes of seeing her here ere long. . . . Jack speaks of your coming in October by Langholm, and bringing Jean and our Mother with you. Do ! Do ! Our good Mother must see Edinburgh, and when can she do it so well ? Of course you will warn us duly. Write if you have any leisure, though there should be " nothing " to say. Good - night, my dear Brother! — I am ever yours, T. Carlyle. XIX. — To his Mother, Scotsbrig. 21 COMLEY Bank, zoth October {Saturday) [1827]. My own dear Mother — I know not that my month is yet expired, or you [are] expecting to hear from me : but I am well assured that you will be glad of this letter; for it brings you welcome news. Jack is arrived in Holland ; has the dangers of the German Ocean behind him, and his broad foot on the fog ^ once more ! 1 Heath. 1 827 TO HIS MOTHER 59 I had a letter from him two hours ago, which has travelled with, to me, an almost incon- ceivable rapidity, having been written in Rot- terdam, only last Tuesday morning. The Doctor, it appears, had a roughish passage ; was becalmed in the Frith here, lay four and twenty hours at anchor in Yarmouth Roads, and then was blown with a vengeance right over to Holland. On Saturday morning (only this day week), he saw the Dutch coast, " like whin-bushes rising over the edge of the sea" ; then a pilot came on board, with a petticoat on, a little squat fellow, whose "voice was like lead-drops falling on a .dry wecht" ;^ and he, with his petticoat and six pairs of trousers beneath it, led them all safe into Rotterdam harbour on Monday morning. Doubtless I was yery glad myself to hear of all this : for though I believe there was no special danger, I was not without my own anxiety. I know not whether Alick told you that on board the packet Jack had met with an old class-fellow on his way to France, one Dr. Laing from this neighbourhood. They two were to set out on foot together as far as Leyden, where the Doctor expected to get steam to convey him on to Cologne, the regular boats from Rotterdam thither being all engaged for a week by the Queen of Wirtemberg and her train. I calculate that the Doctor is already far on his journey ; and enjoying himself not a 1 A farm implement made of dried pelt, used for carrying grain ; not unlike a large tambourine. — M. C. 6o LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 little by the way : he was well furnished with letters of Introduction to people of consideration and kind feeling ; so that for the present we may dismiss him, with the hope, grounded on all sorts of probability, that he is well and doing well. He did not fail to send his most affectionate remembrances to all and every one of you. In a day or so I must write to him ; that a letter of welcome may be waiting for him at Munich when he arrives. . . . I had some expectation myself of seeing you shortly ; but that is passed away now. Brougham is gone from Penrith to London ; and Jeffrey writes to me that he could get no certainty out of him about this Professorship ; on which, indeed, he did not like to press him, till Brougham should have seen more of my writings. I have accordingly sent off to him last night my last long Paper, which is to come out in the next Edinburgh Review ; but what effect it may have on the result of this business may still seem very uncertain. Jeffrey appears to think that for the present no one will be appointed ; but that the thing will be left open for months, perhaps for years, to take what turn circumstances may give it. I myself am half inclined to think so too ; and certainly it seems as if I had no right to put any great faith in it as it now looks. There is one great thing in my favour, however : I positively know not yet whether I should wish it or not wish it! This is the simple truth ; so that equanimity 1827 TO HIS MOTHER 6i regarding it is easily enough preserved. But in two days I expect to see Jeffrey, who returns from Harrowgate to-morrow, and he will tell me more. Meanwhile I am going to begin another Paper for a new London Review, also on a German subject ; and after that, I purpose writing another on some Italian subject for Jeffrey. Money will come in, in this way, and my mind will be more and more spoken out. It is surprising to see how much stir these bits of writing cause here in Edinburgh : the people seem to think that I am a genius perhaps, but of what sort Heaven only knows. They will learn better by and by, if I be spared among them, either at Craigenputtock or anywhere above ground. I n the meantime I am content enough ; certainly no worse in health since you saw me ; but on the contrary sometimes of opinion that I shall in the end get quite well ; a result which I anticipate the more, the less I really care about its happening. O my dear Mother ! it is not a healthy body that is the best, but a healthy soul : thi^ I hope I more and more see into. Have we not all our crosses, each his burden in this pilgrimage ; and is not the best blessing his who bears it most wisely ? Often the whole thing seems to me a cloud and air-image, which in the eye of our immortal spirit will melt into nothingness, like the morning shadows before the Sun ! I am truly concerned to learn that you are 62 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 not all SO well as you should be at Scotsbrig. Alick tells me that your foot is better, and that Mag is quite recovered: but how is my Father? Will you beg him or Jamie to take the pen and let me know, never so shortly, how it stands with him ? This foggy weather too is doubly ill for rheumatism ; and doubly vexatious for one that has still stuff out, which, however, I hope is not your case. I must again entreat some of you to write. And now when are we to see you and Jean? My coming down has become uncertain, and at all events distant by several weeks : but why should you wait for me ; why not step into the Coach yourselves, and I will wait for you any afternoon, at the Coach -ofiEice, and show you all the wonders ? We have really set our hearts upon your all coming hither ; and for us, the sooner the better. I wish much you could tell us something definite about it soon. On the whole, I almost fear you will be for waiting till I come down to Puttock, to see about the " house and cow's grass " ^ there. This cannot be for six weeks, and then it will be winter. I thmk I must send Alick to stir you up : I am to write to him on Wednesday, last week being barren of news. — I send my best affection to every one of the good souls at Scotsbrig : forget not to insist on my request to my Father. And why should not Jean write ? Tell her that we will take it very handsome if she do. Does 1 A common addition to the wages of farm-servants, especi- ally shepherds, in Scotland.- — M. C. 1 827 TO DR. CARLYLE 63 Jenny bring home her medals yet ? Does Mag keep well? — I am ever and always (my dear Mother) your affectionate Son, T. Carlyle. . . . Jane gave me a ring on the anniversary of our marriage-day ; which you will see on my little finger ; and truly well it looks ! XX. — To Dr. Carlyle, Munich. Edinburgh, i^th October 1827. My dear Jack — I begin at the very top of this long sheet, being minded to write to you at large. Your most welcome letter found us last Saturday morning ; sooner than was confidently expected, and the more pleasant that it came rather unexpected. Some " Mr. Bright " had benevolently franked it too ; so that we could hardly look upon the thing otherwise than as a voice from some kind Genius, bidding us be at peace, and no longer heed the roaring of the elements, for that the good Doctor was already on shore. I sent off word instantly to Scots- brig, and yest^day to Craigenputtock : we are all much lightened in spirit ; for to have had so much honesty, love, and physic and logic drowned on the Dogger Bank would have been a thing never to be got over. Seriously let us be thank- ful in heart, and hope better and better ; for much good have we seen in the land of the living. I am trying sometimes to follow you with my imagination, up the fair Rheingau, and through the Kronungsstadt, on to your home in Munchen ; 64 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 but it will not do ; for all that region is to me unpeopled space. Where art thou, Jack, this very night ? Surrounded by what aproned Kellners, or well-booted Schwagers, or whis- kered Mautbeamters, or other men of strange speech, art thou living and looking even now while I write ? Heaven guide thee, my dear Jack ; and bring thee safe to Munich and safe back to us ! My duty in the meanwhile is to write a full narrative in due season, and to hope that it may be lying ready for thy arrival in that temporary home, and all that is wanting for the present to content thee there. . . . From Scotsbrig no letters ; but yet a token, worthy of all acceptance, a firkin of special butter. ... I could have liked well to hear how our Father was ; for it seems his rheu- matism, which had been almost removed, had again returned upon him ; and ... he was nearly confined to the house. In his agricul- tural anxiety, he had ventured out among the damp stubbles too early. I hope and believe that he is better, at least no worse, or they would have written to me ; for I particularly pressed it. The rest were all got well again : the shearing done, great part in, and all things moving on, though with many joltings, as they usually do. I suspect you will hear little of Scotsbrig except through me ; for they are lazy penmen. What I can learn I will send. But I am forgetting that you want to know about the Professorship, and are yet ignorant i827 TO DR. CARLYLE 65 of its having come to nothing, or at least having been removed to an uncertain and uninteresting distance. I heard nothing of the matter for two weeks, and not then till I had applied by letter to my kind little spokesman Jeffrey. He wrote to me by return of Post that Brougham was already gone to London ; and that when he saw him, the " Politician " fought extremely shy ; seemed alarmed somewhat at my exotic predilections ; and withal of opinion that it might be judicious to postpone the appoint- ment of Moral Philosophy altogether, till the Institution had taken root on the more fertile soil of Medical and other practical Science. He said, however, that further than "speak of me some half dozen times to Brougham," he could not ^ress the business ; my last Paper on " German Literature " not being in readiness for inspection. This he advised me to procure from M'Cork,^ and send off to Brougham; to whom in the meanwhile he himself would write. The Article, which has been printed with scarcely any alteration, I accordingly sent off : but no answer can yet be expected ; nor has Jeffrey anything new to say on the affair ; for I saw him to-day, and walked from the Dukedom^ to the City with him, discoursing of various matters in the most edifying way.^ I myself believe that no appointment whatever to that Chair will take place for some time, 1 M'Corkindale, the printer. ^ otherwise, Craigcrook. ^ The remainder of this paragraph is printed in Froude's Life, i. 413. F 66 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 perhaps for some considerable time ; and that in the meanwhile Brougham will keep his eye on me, and if he finds that I prosper, may- apply to me ; if not, will leave me standing. At all events, the thing is right : I am before these people in some shape, perhaps as near my real one as I could expect ; and if they want nothing with me, the " Devil b' in me," as daft Wull said, "if I want anything with them either." I am still as undetermined as ever, whether even their acceptance of me would be for my good or not. Meanwhile I am beginning (purpose seriously beginning to-morrow) an Article on Zacharias Werner, for the Foreign Quarterly Review; concerning which I have had another applica- tion from a dirty Cockney, one of the publishing Booksellers, whom Tait sent hither. They have "gat," he says, "s'ch 3.fellenyi of ta/ent" ; and partly expect an "Article" even from "Gutta"!^ Jane and I laughed outright at him. — I design afterwards, if Jeffrey is willing, to give a Discourse on Tasso, as I proposed ; after which I daresay I shall have to visit Craigenputtock for a day or two ; and farther than this, my view extends not into the Future with any certainty. For the present there is no change in our position, except such as the course of the Earth round the Sun produces, in the shape of horrid deluges of rain. Jane, poor wee thing, is not got well yet, though I think she is a little better. 1 Goethe. 1 82 7 TO DR. CARLYLE 67 In Science, Art, Politics and Manufactures there is nothing singular ; except perhaps that "Professor" Macculloch has been pre- sented with the freedom of the Burgh of Dum- fries. . . . Becker sometimes comes hither, and seems to have far more to say than he can find words for. No bad youth, I believe ; but, as Pack- man Saunders said of the London people, ''terribly aff for a langitch!" Mitchell also we see : he is just finishing his Geography, a laborious bead-roll, which I wonder that he has had patience to go through so honestly. Williams, he says, is writing a History of Alex- ander the Great ! John Wilson has not been down-to us ; nor though he volunteered a fresh promise when I saw him last, do I very con- fidently expect him. I suspect he feels a sort of division from me : for hitherto at least I am an honest "striver after the Idea" and he has in a great measure renounced it, and between Blackwood and the Scotch Kirk- session, has almost degenerated into Fichte's " Mongrel." Walter Scott again is no mongrel, but a sufficient " hodman " ; and his hod indeed is filled with good ginger- bread and "black- inan "^ to satisfy a hungry and discerning public. May Heaven be merciful to us all ; for Matter presses down Mind in the most lamentable fashion ; and the poor Sons of Dust hardly know in these times to what hand to turn them ! Now, Brother Jack, it cannot be doubtful to 1 A coarse kind of toffy made of treacle.^ — M. C. 68 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 thy mind, that if thou hadst desire for a letter to Munich, we may naturally have much more for one from it. How many hundred thousand questions could we ask already and you answer ! How fared you on your journey ; how. found you the Baron and the Fraulein ; and did their welcome prove what you expected ? Present our regards to the worthy gentleman ; and say that if there be aught he would have us do, it will be a kindness to mention it. — Have you yet found any comfort in speaking German ? Did you see Schlegel, and find him a "puppy" ? Is Schelling at Munich, and accessible } Are you like to be happy there ? If not, bolt, and come home to us again ! There are ' ' meat, clothes and fire " to be had in old Scotland yet, for all fencible men. In short. Jack, no body of news, no largeness of paper, or smallness of type will entirely content us. Jane's best affection accompanies mine : she has missed her Review ; and says you will bring it back to her. Alison^ herself shed warm tears that day you went off; she evidently has a secret respect for her Physician, though she admits that in orderliness he is inferior to " the master";^ which latter, for instance, always gives his coat "some kind of fold" when he lays it off, while the former often leaves his " like — fishguts " ! This Kraftspruch of the fishguts must be forgiven her ; it was worthy 1 The maid-servant. 2 This spirit of " orderiiness," inherited and learned from his mother, was characteristic of Carlyle to his latest days. 1 827 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 69 of Annandale. itself. — In conclusion, dear Jack, think often or rather always of us, and repay our love with love. Study, like a man of true head and true heart : you have much to learn, but will learn it all. Endeavour to see Ger- many and German men as they are ; and learn by whatever good is to be found amongst them. Geradheit, Urtheil und Vertraglichkeit I^ were my last direction to you, on that wae enough day. They will carry a man far either here or there.— Good-night, my poor old Tongleg ! Love me always, as I on my side am always — Thy true Brother, T. Carlyle. XXI. — To Alexander Carlyle, Craigenputtock. 21 CoMLEY Bank, T,oth October 1827. My dear Alick — I received your Letter this morning, and must not disappoint you of an answer, though it be a brief one. I am as usual in violent haste, being busied with that scribble for the London people, and in some danger of being belated. To proceed to business then. Jane and I are of opinion that if the floor of that little backroom, which is or was to be yours, be con- sidered sufficient as it now stands flagged, you should let it stand so : but if, as we partly suppose, the flags of it are all broken, and it will require to be renewed at any rate, then we think, considering the small difference of price, a 1 Integrity, decision, and compatibility. 70 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 wooden floor will be 'decidedly preferable. With regard again to the mantel-piece of the room which is now kitchen and is to be dining-room, I recollect speaking once to our Uncle on the subject ; and if I mistake not, he said that a mantel -piece of black marble might, in his opinion, if cunningly bought, be procured for some five pounds. If he can get such a thing anywhere about that price, by all means take it. If it cannot be got for six pounds, on the other hand, we think it would hardly be worth while. Tell our worthy Architect this ; and do you and he exercise your best judgment on the matter. As to the width and other dimensions of the thing, our Uncle will just follow the common standard ; for the grate to go there is yet to purchase (a sort of polished-bar grate, I expect, with hobs) ; the grates we have here being destined, the larger one for the drawing-room, and the smaller for the Library. The larger is the one you saw with fire in it ; the smaller at present stands upstairs. . . This is all I can think of about that House in the Moor, at present ; only further, with repetition and re-repetition, will you beg the Architect to look strictly on all hands against my two old enemies. Reek and Damp ! I hope the new kitchen does not smoke : if it do, it must be cured, can man's wit do it. Are they putting up the spout this winter ? I think the sooner the better. And trying, if possible, to regulate that foundation, which must somehow or other 1 827 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE yi be prolonged a few Inches deeper into the ground ? But enough for once ! What a hubbub and a hurlyburly you must all be in, and poor Mary lying ill of cold ! I hope the poor lassie is better, or even well; Salts are the best recipe ; and care against wet feet. She must not get sick over winter in that wilderness. — Have you got any new light on the road ? By all means, make every effort : it is indeed an indispensable business.— In fine, let us hope that this Craig will repay us all for the trouble we are at with it ; and be a sort of covert from the rude weather, let it blow from what point it will ! Were we once there and settled ! For change, of any sort, totally deranges one : be the place and the state what it may, if the wise man is once there and fixed, he will fit it to him or himself to it ; but of this wayfaring work comes no good. I wish you could have written to me that our Father is recovered : I have my own doubts ; and long for some word, which how- ever, so stingy are the Scotsbrig penmen, I have little hope of getting except through you. Write to me the moment you can learn.- — It was a relief to me to learn that your crop was under thatch : in my ignorance, I was pitying you and Scotsbrig in that spongy weather, which is now, however, as good as gone, I hope. We are glad to hear that R. saw the Craig, and think it a favourable circumstance. Jane thinks she must be a " bit of a flirt (coquette) that R." ; and advises you, as the desi remedy. 72 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 to Stand aloof rather, and let her be for a time. I rather beheve this a wholesome advice ; and worthy of attention, coming from so experienced a source. One way or other, I trust, all will be well. So be it ! I have written an immense letter to the Doctor : by this time it is on the German Ocean I suppose ; an answer may be back in three weeks or so, not sooner. — Not another syllable about London : I saw Jeffrey at large ; and he thinks with me that it may stand over for a good while. — You will write soon ? — Jane's best regards to you and Mary. — I am ever your Brother, T. Carlyle. XXII. — To Miss Jane Carlyle, Scotsbrig. COMLEY Bank, 15//^ November 1827. My dear Jane — I will not keep you another day in suspense'; being indeed well aware that you have been kept too long so already. To tell you the truth there was a letter as good as ready for you last night, chiefly from the pen of your Sister ; but by some malarrangement it was not sent ; and now I think it may be as well for me to write myself. If she have leisure, I sup- pose she will add a postscript. In the first place, however, thank Sister Mag very particularly in my name, for her share in con- cocting that Letter ; which really might be called a labour of love between you, to relieve me from a multitude of anxieties. Alick, poor fellow, had made what inquiries he possibly could at Dum- 1 827 TO MISS JANE CARLYLE 73 fries, and sent me the result ; but little was to be gathered from them ; and the state of our Father's health might still have been uncertain to me. Alick thinks, as I do, that it is a "black burning shame " no one of the Scotsbrig people will undertake to write regularly ; but I hope that now, a beginning being made, there will be no falling off, nay indeed that Maister CairliP himself will be aroused to a sense of his duty, and join his Sisters in so good and brotherly a work. As to thy own little self, we are perfectly of opinion that it is every way advisable to put an end to talking about this journey, and now in Heaven's name to get it done, t There is nothing in the world to hinder such a shifty little Craw to travel twenty times as far ; and help herself through twenty times greater difficulties. Come, then ; set about it, and let us see thee here in a few days ! Tell my Mother that I do think she must not stand in your way ; but if she will not come herself at present, no longer hinder you from coming. Nay tell her I have some- times been of opinion that it might even be better if you were here some little while before her, and so partly knew Edinburgh when she arrived in it. At all events there is not a particle of risk, come when you will. . . . Tell us what day you are coming then ; and come speedily and safely, and be happy beside us. — Poor soul ! It is needless " dashing 1 His brother James. 74 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 the cup of fame from thy brow," as Tommy Bell said : otherwise I could predict to thee that Edinburgh is not half so grand a place as thou supposest ; and Number 21 will be found to be like all other numbers and tenements on this lower Earth, at best a mixed place you know not rightly whether good or ill. Nevertheless, come and try it, my little Jean, and we will be as good to thee as we can. Thou wilt learn something; and if thou do not like it, good old Annandale is still behind thee. Tell my Mother that I am very busy, and as well as usual, or perhaps better. I will write to her specially,, the day after you arrive ! There is no word of news from Jack ; indeed I do not expect any for perhaps a fortnight : my letter will be just in his hands about this very time. The only dangerous or indeed unpleasant part of his journey was over at Rotterdam. — I am coming down by and by (though it must be some weeks first) ; and then to a certainty I will fetch my Mother up, and my Father too (or at least he will come himself, and fetch her home again !) and show them all the wonders. . . . Bring me special word how my Father is : I have a capital pair of gloves lying for him, if I knew how to send them. . Does Jenny still keep her medals ? Tell her that I still love her, and hope to find her a good lassie, and to do her good. But I have left Jane no room. Good-night, my dear Poetess ! — I am ever thy Brother, T. Carlyle. i827 TO MR. JAMES JOHNSTONE 75 [Postscript by Mrs. Carlyle.] My dear Jane — I find Mr. Thomas has left me nothing to say except merely to add my supplication to his, that you will come without more ado. There is nothing in the world to hinder you ; and you have already been kept too long in expectation. My only fear is that the hopes you have all this while been pleasing yourself with, will hardly be realised, for I do not recollect that any hope of mine ever was to the full extent, but you perhaps will be more fortunate. Any way you are sure of one thing — the heartiest welcome. My kind regards to your Father and Mother and all the rest. Tell them we will take the best care of you, so they need not fear to let you. — Your affectionate Jane Welsh \_sic\. XXIII. — To Mr. James Johnstone, Grammar School, Haddington. 2 1 COMLEY Bank, Monday [igiA November 1827]. My dear Johnstone — Alison Greave, our worthy maid -servant, is leaving us (in bad health) ; and so affords me a hurried opportunity of writing you a line, which, otherwise were not by any means worth postage. — I promised to send you word about that London Professorship ; and truly I should have done so, had there been any word to send. There was not, there still is not ; except that from the general aspect of the case I augur with considerable certainty that. 76 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 for me at least, nothing will come of it. _ Jeffrey supports me warmly ; but Brougham, it would appear, fights shy: delays have intervened; they feel it to be " a most important Chair," and are " alarmed at my German predilections," and in short know not rightly what to make of me. Last time I saw Jeffrey, they were busy follow- ing out some quest of Dugald Stewart's ; that is, inquiring after some Frenchman or other whom Dugald had recommended, and who I suspect must be a certain M. Cousin ^ that takes all opportunity of lauding Dugald. They wished to see whether he could speak any English; truly an essential point. — But on the whole, for many weeks the thing has died out of our thoughts : and the truth of the matter is and was, if they should appoint me to-morrow, I should not know positively whether to laugh or weep. Mean- while I am not a Candidate and yet before them ; entitled also to refuse, if I think good and have occasion : on which footing I am content enough that the business should continue to rest. I myself am of opinion that nothing will be done for a good while ; and for me, most probably nothing at any time. I wish we had you here at present : for I am to be idle by to-morrow afternoon, and have a day or two of relaxation ; having been busy for several weeks. — There is a paper of mine in the next Edinburgh Review, which is all printed, and will be out in a day or two.^ I propose now 1 Victor Cousin (born 1792, died 1867). 2 The State of German Literature. i827 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 17 to quit the " German line " for a while, and try something else. John wrote to you before he went away. Yesterday we had the first letter from Munich, where the poor Doctor arrived in safety about the first of November ; and seems wonderstruck and thunderstruck with the novelty of his situ- ation. He had talked one hour with Schlegel, seen the steeple of Frankfort ; and, in a word, scarce knew what end of him was uppermost for very confusion. By degrees the wool-gathering wits will rally round their old flag, and the Doctor write to us in peace and composure. How are you and my Cousin, your wife } Will you send us word ; or shall we not see you soon ? O poor life, where sixteen miles divide as effectually as the Atlantic Ocean ! Good-night, my old Friend ! Do not forget me, and the wayfarings of Langsyne ! — I am [ever yours], T. Carlyle. (The/^^ is very condemnable.) XXIV. — ^To Alexander Carlyle, Craigenputtock. 2 1 COMLEY Bank, ibth November 1827. My dear Alick — . . . During the late frost, I very much regretted that you had not taken this Great-coat down with you. I have very seldom had it on since you were here ; it being out of date for street wear : besides at present the tailor is making me a new one. I design shortly, if I have no other opportunity, to send this old servant down by the Carrier. I 78 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 will direct it to our Uncle John's, probably in some sort of box or gray-paper parcel ; and if I can manage adroitly enough, you may have it in this way about to-morrow week. It will serve you many a day as well as a better ; and for me, at least in this city, it is well-nigh use- less. — -I have long forgotten to tell you to call at Johnstone the Bookseller's, and order, for my Mother, a certain Religious Magazine (called the "Monitor" or some such thing), which you will easily discriminate by this cir- cumstance, that it is published monthly, and costs one shilling per Number. Jack and I tried to get it here, but could find no way of having it conveyed to Ecclefechan. Will you see after it ; and pay six months of it in ad- vance, and direct him to give it regularly to Nottman ?^ I think it may prove serviceable at Scotsbrig, and it costs but little. Do not forget ; for I have already forgotten too long. . . . Can you tell me precisely when is [the] rent-day ? Now, or at Candlemas ? For we wish to be particular ; standing on so curious a footing as we do. Has Blacklock come for his money yet ? If a loan of twenty or thirty pounds, or even of a far larger sum (for we have now money, like Schmelzle and his wife), would be of benefit to you, it can be had with- out any trouble ; so you can let me know. Of course / will pay this rent ; for you will have other outlets for yours among Masons, etc. etc., and this perhaps before I see you. — 1 The Carrier from Dumfries to Ecclefechan. i827 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 79 On the whole it is a most comfortable fact for me to find that, sick as I am, and indisposed to insinuate myself any where, I can still live, inde- pendent of all persons whatsoever. At the Craig, if we stick together as we have done, we may fairly bid defiance to the Constable. Praised be Heaven ! For of all curses, that of being baited for debt, or even frightened for falling into it, is surely the bitterest. — If you see the last Edinburgh Review you may read my Article in it, on the " State of German Literature," some time when you have oppor- tunity. The people here seem to think abun- dantly well of it : I am in fact becoming a sort of Literary Man like my neighbours, and the people wonder at me more than enough. Jeffrey I saw two days ago ; 1 fear the little fellow is losing his health. — Another \or\g paper I sent -away last night to London, where they seem waiting for it with anxiety : and already I am making preparations for a third (not on a German but on an Italian subject) for the next Edinburgh Review. By the blessing of Heaven two good things shall happen : I will get my mind spoken out, and have a trade to follow in this Earth like others ! Never fear, my good Alick ! Long it is since I have known that life for one man is just like what it is to another; and that neither height nor depth, nor principalities nor powers, nor what is more than all — the extremity of biliousness — shall part a wise man from his purposes of wisdom. —Ever your Brother T. Carlyle. 8o LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1827 Remember me to the good little Missus ;^ and tell her to keep good fires, and beware of sore throats on that wild wintry moor. You will write when the Great-coat comes ? I have a thousand things to ask ; but you will answer the best of them unasked. — Did you ever see Galloway, the logical Mathematician of Fife ? He is here in bad health, poor fellow, and without a situation. A very raised'^ man ! — ■ Jane's best love to you and Sister Marry. XXV. — To Alexander Carlyle, Craigenputtock. COMLEY Bank, 12M December 1827. . . . With a happy surprise, our Mother and Jane popped in here upon us last Wednes- day night ! They stood their journey well, and are doing well ; only that the boisterous weather is against seeing sights, and my feeble- ness^ prevents me somewhat from officiating as Guide. Nevertheless to-day I had them in the Castle, etc. ; and by degrees, I suppose we shall get the whole city mastered. They tell us that all is well at Scotsbrig, only our Father still a little weak. ... All good wishes to you and your little Missus from all and sundry here assembled ! The whole three are sitting sewing in the most peaceful manner at my hand : our Mother has been reading the Man of Feeling and my last Paper (with great estimation) in the Edin- 1 His sister Mary. 2 Raised, excited to the verge of madness. 3 From recent illness. •828 TO HIS FATHER 8i burgh Review. God bless you and poor wee Mary. — I am ever your affectionate Brother, Thomas Carlyle. XXVI.— To his Father, Scotsbrig.^ 21 COMLEY Bank, 2id December 1827. My dear Father — My Mother will not let me rest any longer till I write to you : she says it was promised that a letter should go off the very night Jane and she arrived ; and nevertheless it is a melancholy fact that above two weeks have elapsed since that event, and no better tidings been sent you than a word or two in the blank line of "The Courier." I would have written sooner had I been in right case ; or indeed had there been anything more to communicate than what so brief an announce- ment might convey as well as a much larger one. The two Wayfarers did not find me waiting for them at the Coach that Wednesday even- ing : unhappily it was quite out of my power to keep that or any other appointment ; I had been seized about a week before with a most virulent sore throat, which not only detained me close prisoner in the house, but incapacitated me from speaking (except in a pitiful, hum- ming, snivelling tone of voice), and for three days even from swallowing. . . . All that I could do, in these circumstances, was to send out a trusty substitute, a Mr. Gordon, who kindly undertook the office ; but he, mistaking 1 Most of this letter is printed in Froude's Life, i. 416, 422, G 82 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 one coach for another, went and waited at the wrong inn ; so that our beloved Pilgrims were left to their own resources, and had to pilot their way hither under the guidance of the Porter who carried their box. This, however, they accomplished without difficulty or acci- dent ; and rejoiced us all by their safe and, in part at least, unexpected arrival. Since then, all things have gone on prosper- ously : my sore throat has been slowly amend- ing ; so that, though still rather weak, I can now venture out (well wrapped up) at any hour, and am in all points about as well as when the thing began. Jane has been busy, and is still so, getting ready suitable apparel of bonnets and frocks : my Mother has heard Andrew Thomson (not much to her satisfaction, in his " braw kirk," since he "had to light four candles before ever he could strike ") ; she has also seen old Mrs. Hope,^ the Castle of Edin- burgh, the Martyrs' Graves, John Knox's House, and who knows how many other won- ders ; of which, I doubt not, she will give you a true and full description when she returns. As yet, however, the half has not been seen : the weather has been so stormy that travelling out was difficult ; and I have been in no high condition for officiating as Guide. In stormy days, she smokes along with me, or sews wear- ing raiment, or reads the wonderful Articles of my writing in the Edinburgh Review. She has also had a glimpse of Francis Jeffrey, the great 1 A Glasgow lady, who had lived at Ecclefechan. — M. C. 1 828 TO HIS FATHER 83 Critic and Advocate ; and a shake of the hand from a true German Doctor!^ Nevertheless she is extremely anxious about getting home ; and indeed fails no day to tell us several times that she ought to be off. " She is doing nothing," she says; and "they'll a' be in a hubble of work " at home. I tell her that she was never idle for two weeks in her life before, and ought therefore to give it a fair trial ; that the " hubble " at home will all go on rightly enough in her absence ; that, in short, she should not go this year, but the next. So I am in hopes that we shall get her persuaded to stay where she is till after new-year's day, which is now only nine or ten days distant, and then we will let her go in peace. The two Janes and she are all out in the Town at pres- ent buying muslin for sundry necessary articles of dress, which we have persuaded the Mother to undertake the wearing of: these may keep her, I hope, in some sort of occupation ; for idle, I see, she cannot -and will not be. We will warn you duly when you are to expect her. Of news or speculations here, excepting these things, we are very nearly barren. I have not yet got my work resumed, but I am coming on towards that point. Meanwhile there has been a fresh enterprise started for me : no less than the attempt to be successor to Dr. Chalmers in the St. Andrews University! He, Chalmers, is at present Professor of Moral Philosophy there, but is just about removing to Edinburgh, 1 Dr. Becker. 84 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE i8z8 to be Professor of Divinity : and I have been consulting with my Friends (Jeffrey and others) whether it would be prudent in me to offer my- self as a Candidate for the vacant office. They all seem to think (sincerely) that if the Election proceeded on fair principles, I might have a chance of rather a good sort : but this proviso is only a doubtful one, the custom having long been to decide such things there by very unfair principles. As yet nothing is determined, but my Patrons are making inquiry to see how the land lies ; and some time next week we shall know what to do. Most part are inclined to think that I ou£-Ai to try. At all events, if I do try, it will be several months before anything decisive is known. You shall hear regularly as the business proceeds. The London People, meantime, seem to be altogether at a stand. — John's second letter (from Munich) I have sent down to Sandy, wrapped in the heart of a great-coat, which I hope he has some time ago received from the Dumfries Carrier. By some opportunity or other, I think he will contrive to send you over the Doctor's Letter, that so you may see with your own eyes how it stands with him. He has been kindly received by the Baron, is living in a strange castle of a house, with marble - covered stoves, and heaps of strange servants, who however carefully re- spect his private apartment. The Doctor is confounded and astounded at the strangeness of everything : next time he writes (which should now be rather soon, for I answered his 1 828 TO HIS FATHER 85 letter almost three weeks ago) he will tell a straighter and clearer story. I had no notion, till my Mother told us, how very ill you had been. I do hope and trust the disease has left you, or at least by care may be kept at bay. Doubtless you know by experi- ence that cold in every shape, especially all manner of wet, must be carefully avoided. I trust you will soon be well enough for a journey hither ; for you too, my dear Father, must see Edinburgh before we leave it. I have thoughts of compelling you to come with me when I come down. Meantime excuse this letter, so hasty and so thin ; it is a poor return to yours, which I was more than usually glad to see after so long an interval. — I am ever your affectionate Son, T. Carlyle. Mag and Jamie and Jenny are warmly saluted by one and all here assembled. Will Mag tell the woman of the Myer that her straw-bonnet arrived here without any damage, and was pro- nounced by judges to be one of the v&ry finest that could be made in Leghorn or out of it ? I got it deposited in the Highland Society's rooms by the Laird oi th.e. Isle of Harris, a leading man among them. I accompanied it with a proper narrative.^ It seems there properly is no prize 1 Mary Grahame, a worthy young woman living at Myer, not far from Scotsbrig, had made straw into bonnets in the way recommended by Cobbett in his Cottage Economy, — using rye instead of wheaten straw. A prize of ;£5 from the Highland Society enabled her to carry on this industry on which she subsists to this day (1887). — M. C. 86 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 offered except for Orkney : yet the great Laird thought something still might be done. Adieu ! XXVII. — To Alexander Carlyle, Craigenputtock. COMLEY Bank, Tuesday \if)th January 1828]. My dear Alick — . . . Grievous is it for a man of spirit to be so poor as you are at this date : yet so long as the Constable is fairly excluded from us by solid smith -work, one ought in this world to be patient. I hope, another year, Craigenputtock will not be so hard run upon ; for, this time, it has had more than its due produce to yield. Meanwhile I have paid the half-year's rent; and I must again repeat, that when you need more money, for any purpose that you reckon essential, you have only to let us know. . . . We were thunderstruck to hear of that terrific visitation of smoke ! Gracious Powers, are we doomed then to the everlasting curse of choking atmosphere, and sulphurous vapours, which, it is taught in Scripture, are the portion of Devils only, not of still-living men .■" I vow and swear that it is not so ; that free air is the birthright of every free man. This Kitchen- chimney must be cured, my dear Alick ; I say, must be, come of it what will. Surely we will try every expedient that man's wit can devise : old -wives' boxes, cans, contractions ; and if we cannot cure it, we will blow up the whole concern with gunpowder rather than leave it stewing there ; for there, as our Father says, i828 TO DR. CARLYLE 87 it cannot be. — I am much inclined to think with you that lengthening the chimney -head will be the only effectual cure : if so, do for Heaven's sake get it set about and tried : a cart-load or two of bricks will do the whole matter ; and if it be still smouldering and fumi- gating when I come down to stay with you, it will quite depress my weak heart, I fear, with anticipation of coming woes. Speak to our U ncle on the subject, with the tongue of an eloquent orator : tell him that we are undone, undone, if that, reek continue ! Let all the soothsayers and astrologers and smoke-doctors and cunning-men of every sort, therefore, turn out with one accord ; and, through the strength of Heaven, allay this pest, and finally sweep and garnish that fire- place, and let us live in peace ! . . . XXVIII. — To Dr. Carlyle, Munich. COMLEY Bank, \st February 1828. My dear Jack— ... I have much to tell you about our proceedings here ; so must avoid preambles. In the first place, I was very ill, the cold I last time spoke of having grown into a violent suppuration of the throat, and kept me for several days living "in an element of slime." In the second place, Becker cured me, in the most cunning way, and I am -now as well as ever. In the third place, I am at this moment a formal Candidate for the Pro- fessorship of Moral Philosophy in the College of St. Andrews ; Chalmers, as you know, being LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 bound for Edinburgh ! Is not this a novelty ? A week ago I sent off my formal application (Jeffrey having previously written to smooth the way) ; and yesternight, as I compute, the Packet containing my Testimonials would reach Principal Nicol and the other Professor-Electors. Chalmers, it is said, lingers unaccountably in giving in his resignation ; so that the matter may hang in the wind for many months ; never- theless, I have hopes that it may be in part decided before Whitsunday, which is all I want ; and what is more, it seems even possible that it may be decided in my favour. At least I am recommended and witnessed for as few men can be : by Brewster, Leslie, Wilson, Procter, Irving, Dr. Irving,^ Buller, Jeffrey, etc. ; and all in such terms that if I cannot carry the place, I think it may seem vain to attempt carrying any such place by means of Testimonials to merit alone. The dear little "Duke"^ (Jane says, she could kiss him) has written me a paper, which might of itself bring me any Professorship in the Island. Irving also spends five heroical pages on my merits ; and Wilson says there is no man known to him fitter for the office. So what more can I do but let the matter take its course, and await the issue " with indescribable composure " ? 1 Author of many Legal works, also of the Life and Writ- ings of George Buchanan (1807), Lives of Scottish Writers (18 10), and of a History of Scottish Poetry, edited, after his death, by Dr. Carlyle (1861). 2 Nickname of Jeffrey. — See Reminiscences, ii. 259. 1 828 TO DR. CARLYLE 89 The truth is, I hardly care sixpence myself which way it go : a man, if you give him meat and clothes, is or ought to be sufficient for himself in this world ; and his culture is but beginning if he think that any outward influ- ence, of person or thing, can either make him or mar him. If I do not go thither (which after all is very likely, for a certain Dr. Cook, an "old stager," talks of applying), why then, I shall not go, and they will not get me ; and the Sun will rise and set, and the grass will grow, and I shall have eyes to see and ears to hear, notwithstanding. Do all that you can in honesty ; and reckon the result indubitable ; for the inward result will not fail, if rightly endeavoured after ; and for the outward, non flocci facias, " do not value it a rush." Between writing Wotton Reinfred in the Dunscore Moors, and teaching Moral Philosophy at St. Andrews, I would not at this moment make a choice, but rather leave Destiny to make it for me. — I must not forget to say that I have written to Goethe also for a Testimonial ; and may expect his answer in some two weeks. You and Dr. Boisseree were alluded to,^ and much talk there was about the Wanderjahre and Faust. In fact, dear Doctor, I cannot but think that you have lighted on your feet at Munich. So many kind and courteous acquaintances ; such opportunities for scientific improvement, 1 In the letter to Goethe. — See Correspondence between Goethe and Carlyle, p. 63. go LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 and such a lordly world of Art laid open round you. Would I had Dr. Boisseree^ for iny Cicerone, and the King's Galleries for my place of study ! Jane and I are actually talking of a visit to Germany for the study of music and painting {artes perditce in this political and economical and man -of ^business land), and of spending six months (in an excursion from the Craig) at Weimar itself! We will do it, if the Fates forbid not. — Your description of Schelling interested us much; and warmly do I commend your purpose of studying Philosophy under such a man. For Heaven's sake get some real knowledge of this high matter : be not disheartened with difficulties, for all things are possible to all men, if they but will them stoutly ; and let us " wash away " the insipid palabra which for the present disgraces Britain in this matter. Have you heard of Cousin's Fragmens Philosophiques ? — a pragmatical creature, I fear, who arrogates to himself the opinions which he is hardly able even to steal. Stewart thinks him a high Philosopher, and he thinks Stewart the highest (it would seem) : so of two tired garrons, grazing in the meadow, if the one scrape the other's neck with friendly tooth, the good turn will be repaid ; and mutual solace- ment, and increase of mettle, for these generous draught-horses be the issue. — Tell us all about 1 The eminent archseologist and art-collector Sulpice Bois- serde, who sold his collection of pictures to King Ludwig of Bavaria, in 1827, and went to Munich to reside. Best known through Goethe's Correspondence with him. i828 TO DR. CARLYLE 91 Schelling, and Cornelius/ and all men that follow their course. Continue also to frequent, as you have means, the society of your Physicians, and other men of accomplishment ; and esteem this as among your richest fields for study, both in science and manners, though for the time it may not seem so. Send for money also, when you need it : meantime I will pay the Baron's Books, and you can settle with him, which may afford some interim "supply." I must now descend, or perhaps you will call it mounting, to domestic news. Our Mother came hither, as you have partly under- I I stood, soon after my last letter went away : she durst not fully trust Jane by herself, so came and escorted her in person. She staid about four weeks ; then went home by Hawick,^ pausing a few days there. She was in her usual health ; wondered much at Edinburgh, but did not seem to relish it excessively. I had her at the Pier of Leith, and showed her where your ship vanished ; and she looked over the blue waters, eastward, with wettish eyes, and asked the dumb Space, " When he would be back again ? " Good Mother ! But the time of her departure came on, and she left us stupefied by the magnitude of such an enterprise — as riding over eighty miles in the " Sir Walter Scott," without jumping out of the window, which I told her was the problem. Dear Mother ! Let us thank God that she is 1 Cornelius, the painter. 2 Her sister, Isabella Mackinnon, lived at Hawick. — M. C. 92 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 Still here in the Earth, spared for us, and I hope, to see good ! I would not exchange her for any ten mothers I have ever seen. — Jane (the less) she left behind her, to " improve her mind." The creature seems to be doing very fairly, is well and contented. My Jane, I grieve to say, is yet far enough from well ; but I hope much from Summer weather, and a smart pony in the South. She is not by any means an established valetudinarian; yet she seldom has a day of true health, and has not gained strength certainly since you left her. — Frank Dixon,^ I heard incidentally, was at Brocketlees, and worse this winter than ever : Dr. Irving said he was really thought to be dying ! Alas, my poor Frank ! is this to be the end of it, thou weary and heavy-laden heart! I trust and pray, not so. — Edward Irving talks of coming hither, in General Assembly time, to preach every night, on the Prophecies ! He is not mad ; but neither surely does he speak forth the words of truth with soberness. . . . The rest of this premit atra nox. And now, my beloved Doctor, what remains but that I again impress on thee the necessity of writing soon, the distance being so great ; and for the present take myself away, the hour of parting being again come. All blessings be with thee, my dear Jack : one true Friend thou must ever have in this world — Thy affectionate Brother, Thomas Carlyle. 1 See Reminiscences, ii. 62-67. 1 828 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 93 . . . We have had George Moir (of Wallen- stein, Thirty Years War, etc.) twice with us lately. He is a small clear man ; but very modest and will learn much, being honest and open. Wilson we expect to breakfast on Sunday ; a thing made of starlight and burn- ing brandy— Heaven and . XXIX. — To Alexander Carlyle, Craigenputtock. 21 COMLEY Bank, 19/A February 1828. My dear Alick — ... I long to see you all and ascertain how you look. I hope you will not be so lonely another winter ; for either you will have us with you, or a Wife, which last I take to be an excellent pre- servative against weariness. Perhaps you may have both. ... Our Father spoke about com- ing up to see you, if he could ride so far : I pray you, encourage him by all means in your power. Alas ! I meant to plant trees this very spring at the Craig o' Putto myself; and you see how it is : I am still here, and when I do arrive there will be nothing but plastering and pargetting", and all in a haste to be ready for Whitsunday. For to the Craig at Whitsunday we will come ; and for aught I can see may abide there. The St. Andrews Professorship, like Attila Schmelzle's,^ seems a thing not to be counted on. 1 The object of the hero in Jean Paul's Schmelzle's Journey to Fldtz, translated in Specimens of German Romance, was to obtain " a Catechetical Professorship." 94 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 It is true I have sent off my Certificates ; and such certificates as might do one's heart good to look upon : but what then ? The probability is that they have other meal to grind than choose by certificates ; and so all the proofs you can give them of your deservings will be but as music to the deaf adder which refuses to hear the voice of the charmer, charm he never so wisely. We this morning got a letter from a Friend of Mrs. Welsh's, a person professedly intimate with the business and people of St. Andrews : he gives it as his clear opinion that the project is up, the man been pitched upon long before I made any application. This to jane seems decisive: not in the least so to me ; though I must still think, as I before thought, that my chance is doubtful enough. The best part of it is that I am not conscious of carii^g three farthings which way it go. I think and believe that they ought to choose me, from the circumstances before them, if they do fairly ; and if they do unfairly, why in Heaven's name let it be so, and each party will bear his own loss. Here therefore it rests, and may do for many months. If I had Goethe's certificate ^ I would send it also, and then leave them to make a kirk and a mill of the whole matter.^ The old Laureate did write me since I wrote ; but not in answer to my letter which he had not then got : he merely warned me that another packet of Books, etc., was on the way for me : owing 1 See Correspondence between Goethe a?id Carlyle, p. 71. 2 To do whatever they like with it. 1 828 7'0 DR. CARLYLE 95 to the bad weather, I do not look for it for several weeks. There are two medals in it which I am to present in his name to Sir Walter Scott ! . . . XXX. — To Dr. Carlyle, Munich. 21 COMLEV Bank, \ith March' liii. My dear Jack — I have taken, as you see, an enormously long sheet, that so I may have space to write at pleasure ; intending not to be concise but the very contrary. It is true, I sent you all our news, by Post, only a few days ago ; but much palabra still remains at the bottom of my inkstand ; and in the case of a ship-packet, one may speak freely. I have endeavoured also to forage for you in other quarters : letters from Murray and Gordon I expect this even- ing ; one from William Graham with a Book is already lying on the table for you. Could I but have added a stock from Craigenputtock and Scotsbrig ! But the good people there lie out of the way ; so all that I can do is to inclose for you such fragments of their letters to me, as I can still find secreted about my pockets ; whereby you may see that they are all moderately well, and nowise forgetful of Mr. Greatheart. I have scraped together four Dumfries Newspapers, and sundry smaller items may still present themselves ; so that on the whole, I may hope this package will prove a windfall to you. A " collection of handbills," as Quintus Fixlein would say, must always be 96 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 very incomplete : indeed I did not think of it till yesterday, and so have gathered only one; otherwise the whole " picture of Edinburgh " might in this way have been very comfortably presented to you. . . . We have not the slightest particle of news here, since I wrote ; no further word of St. Andrews, except a report that it is not to be finally settled till November ; Dr. Chalmers, for reasons best known to him- self, having declined resigning till then. I suppose they mean formally settled ; for finally settled it will be long before that time, nay as I believe, is very nearly so already. Dr. Cook will be Professor there, as will be both seen and heard tell of; and I — shall be Professor nowhere. In fact, the people incline to reckon me a somewhat dubious character in these parts. One Brown, an Advocate, and Editor of the Mercury Newspaper, published a critique of me the other week, which I would give sixpence that I had here to send you, but I despatched it straightway to Scotsbrig. He says that I am, as it w;ere, the most beautiful penny-candle you could see in a winter night, but that, un- happily, a " murky cloud of German Tran- scendentalism" is descending over me; whereby what can tallow and wick avail, though never so goodly ? The light must go out in its socket. ; and nothing remain but the waily-dreg^ of the Mercury to illuminate the Earth. . . . 1 Defective "dip "y the last-made candle, thin and ill-shaped, which utilises the remaining tallow, was called, in AnnandaJe, a waily-dreg. — M. C. i828 TO DR. CARLYLE 97 This night at Sir W. Hamilton's I reckoned on the whole a pleasant one. Moir was there ; a kind, lively, very ingenious Small, with whom I am growing very intimate ; De Quincey also, though in the low stage of his opium-regimen, and looking rather care-stricken ; then " Cyril Thornton" or " O'Doherty," Sir William's Brother,' an exceedingly gentle and whole- some man, and stuttering in his speech, who reminds you much of our East-Lothian Dicken- son. The rest were German Tourists, and Editorial gentlemen ; and babes and suck- lings. One was a son of Dr. Russel's, who had been [David] Aitken's pupil, and at Munich : he has since brought me down Jean Paul's Campaner Thai, and his own card. We sat till the small hours, and Sir William proved a modest and most courteous landlord : Cyril Thornton and I drank half a glass of Claret, and supped on one potato each. One " mealy root" ; and this without comment from any one, which I reckoned polite. Of talk there was no end ; and though much of it was of the smallest, it was innocent to a degree, and better perhaps than mere nothing. . . . On the whole, the literary society of Edinburgh may be about as good as any other literary society ; and here as well as there and everywhere it 1 Captain Thomas Hamilton, who figures in the Nodes Ambrosiana as " O'Doherty," author of a novel, much praised, called The Youth and Manhood of Cyril Thornton (1828); perhaps better known by his clever, but offensive book. Men and Manners in America, published in 1833. H 98 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 well beseems us to be "content with the day of small things." — Among our visitors I may mention a little wizened Captain Skinner, who produced a card from Goethe, " Schonstens griis- send." Skinner turns out to be from Kirkcaldy, a lively harmless little man, and the best singer perhaps " within a hundred miles of him." He gave us Kennst du das Land, in a style which even at Miinchen must have been pronounced to be herrlich and himmlisch. — So goes it with us here ; " much in the old way." . . . With regard to Edinburgh, then, you see pretty well how matters stand. I must fiow for a moment or two direct your attention to Munich. That you will continue to keep the most copious Journal of your proceedings there I cannot for a moment doubt ; no less that you will continue from time to time sending me sufficient news of your adventures outward and inward, that we may see how it fares with you, and has fared. Would I could send you some gepruftes Wort about the plan of conducting your investigations, and the points you should inquire into there ! I can only again bid you in general keep your eyes open, and gather know- ledge of men and things wherever it is to be had. Do you look at all into the political con- dition of Bavaria ? Endeavour to ascertain this, as the basis of all other inquiries. How does the social machine work ? Where is the security each man feels that no one will molest him or his rights } Inquire of well-informed men as to this, and all that pertains thereto. I 1 828 TO DR. CARLYLE 99 feel great dimness in regard to the History of Germany generally : I know no book but some one or two of Dohm's, and these only by report. Doubtless there are many persons in your Umgebung that can tell you all that ; which, therefore, mark down in your Journal, and your memory, for your letters must treat of more special matters. Then as to the Educa- tion of Germany, the plans of its Gymnasiums and Universities : I reckon that a great service might be done to Britain were this matter fully expounded and set before them. The manners of the people you naturally study ; and having a shrewd comprehension, will not fail to see a little into. I asked you somewhat about Books last time ; but will not enter into that matter further here ; unless you are very poor, I mean to say unless / am very poor, I will send you a sum to lay out for me in that way before you leave the country. . . . How we are to be disposed of for next year is still as uncertain as ever. The plasterers have not done at Craigenputtock, it will be seen, perhaps not nearly so ; and the road is lying as we left it. For this year there will be many drawbacks at the Craig, and only one furtherance, the cheapness of living. Heaven direct us how to do ! For my own share I have long known that all places which the eye of Heaven visits are most respectable places : but we shall, as usual, see ! — Perhaps I may write to you from Scotsbrig or the Craig, if there be any news. I am to be thereabouts loo LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 for perhaps two weeks ; Jane meanwhile at Templand, where, I grieve to say, there is but a sad and sorrowing household at present. The old man is getting weaker ; and poor dear little Auntie-' has suffered and is suffering hard things. We are all alarmed for her of late ; for she seems to be in the last stage of exhaustion, and afflicted with dreadful spasmodic affections. Good soul ! But Heaven is merciful to her ; for it sends her a humble and loving heart. — Jane I believe means to write you a word, and perhaps the wee Jane too. I also may add a word or two before the Packet goes off At present my time and space are done. No syllable about these Books ! I must up to Tait, and then to meet Graham at the Royal Ex- change, and bring him down to dinner. All good be with you, my Brother ! T. Carlyle. XXXI.— To his Wife, Templand. SCOTSBRIG, Wednesday night (10 o'clock) \7.ith March 1828]. My dearest Wife — I am just returned from Dumfries, where your melancholy letter lay waiting for me ; and I write literally for no other purpose but to say where I am, and to beg of you to write me again. I could not find any corner of Dumfries that was not full of uproar ; and had to retire to the street, not to send you a letter, but to consider whither I should betake myself for the night ; a package 1 Miss Jane Welsh. 1 828 TO HIS WIFE of proof-sheets, parcel from Edinburgh, etc. etc., having also arrived, and requiring immediate attention. The result was that I determined on coming hither, and waiting till I should hear from you again, which I pray that I may do if possible by return of post, to regulate my further movements. Direct me how you wish that I should proceed ; and if I can I will comply. Poor Auntie ! Poor dear gentle soul, and is it come to this with her ! Till your letter reached me, I had never left off hoping ; nay my hopes were stronger than my fears. Tell her that I weep for her, and pray for her ; yes, pray, as I am enabled, to that great Being to whom the issues both of life and death equally belong. O Jane ! — But what is the use of talking .■* May the Great God be merciful to her, and to us whom He is threatening to bereave of one so dear to us ! Alas ! alas ! Life is but a Shadow and a Show. But the Substance and the Truth lies beyond it ; and they that are of upright heart shall not long and hope in vain. Mrs. Yorstoun of Hoddam died yesterday! To one's mind in this .season, the world seems hung in sable ; and Death is King of Life. Write to me directly. Dearest ; and compose thy poor fond heart ; for the weak and strong alike must front the inevitable. Good-night, my own Jeannie, and God bless thee ! — I am ever thy affectionate Husband, Thomas Carlyle. I02 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 I would not trouble you with a word of business at such a time : yet if you could send me Alison Greave's address I would write to her. Some lady (from Preston-Kirk, I think) has written to you for a character of her ; and Jane wisely reckoning it a sign that Alison was in a hiring condition, has inserted the note among the proofs. Another long letter from Mrs. Richardson (sent down in like manner) I have not yet looked at. Again good-night ; and do not neglect to write — yet not on Thurs- day night if you have no time. XXXII. — ^Miss Jane Carlyle, Edinburgh. SCOTSBRIG, Sunday lioth March 1828]. Dear little Craw— I duly received your Munich Letter,^ and your Proof-sheet Package, on two successive Wednesdays ; and had reason to approve your activity and sagacity in manag- ing so many new concerns. . . . We purposed, you know, to be back in a fortnight ; that is to-morrow. Yet back to- morrow we shall not be ; for all is in derange- ment about Templand, Jane cannot be wanted^ there, and her engagements have hitherto cramped mine also. Poor Miss Welsh is dreadfully ill ; the Doctor and Jane seem to have little doubt but she is dying : Mrs. Welsh also has fallen sick ; so that now it seems to be arranged that I am to return home myself, and 1 From Dr. Carlyle, forwarded by her. ^ Spared. 1828 TO MISS JANE CARLYLE 103 leave Jane at Templand till some better season for quitting it. Miss Welsh's Brother is now come thither from Liverpool ; so that they are better off for men ; but of women there is none except Jane that can take any full charge ; her Mother being to all appearances exhausted with over- exertion. Poor little Auntie ! I myself have great fears for her ; but I do not think the Doctor knows his right hand from his left in the matter ; so that his predictions give me little concern. Now I have not yet finally settled at Craigen- puttock, and was to be up there again before leaving the country. I purpose, therefore, setting off for Thornhill to-morrow ; then next day for the Craig ; and unless some new scheme be started, you may expect to see me on Thursday night. But I can predict nothing with certainty ; all things are in such a state of agitation, I fear greatly your funds must be getting low; and were it not for the dangers of double postage, I would send you a pound herewith : however, you must try to hold out till Thursday night, and if I do not come then I will enclose you the so needful "supply." But I think and calculate that starting ■ that morning from Thornhill I shall come; and doubtless the tea will be ready, and the house swept and garnished for me, when I ring the bell. The Craw also will greatly rejoice at relief from her solitude ; and will actually betake herself to keeping house for me, till the real Goodwife arrive. I04 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 I have been at the Craig and here and back again like a weaver's shuttle, on the back of Larry, whose hoof has had no rest since I revisited him. They are all well. Alick was down here yesterday for seed-corn, and our Mother went off with him in the Cart ; so that I expect to see her again on Tuesday. Mag and Jenny are here ; Jenny at the Sewing- school with Jessie Combe, and making great progress. Jemmy and the rest are busy sowing oats, at least were yesterday, for to-day they are all at the Kirk. Every one of them has been asking again and again after "Jean," and rejoicing to hear that she does well. If I can persuade them, I will make them write their compliments with their own hands. Meanwhile do thou, my dear little "wise young Stewardess,' continue to behave thy bit of a self (for thou also art a self) with propriety ; and expect thy natural guardian and Brother on Thursday night, unless something unexpected intervene. All manner of news (if I can remember any) I will tell thee when I come. Jane sent her love to thee in her Letter of last night. I am ever thy affectionate Brother, Thomas Carlvle. XXXIII. — To his Wife, Templand. Craigenputtock, Wednesday, noon [2d April 1828]. Your sad messenger is just arrived. I had again been cherishing Hopes, when the day of Hope was clean gone. Compose yourself. 1 828 TO DR. CARLYLE 105 my beloved Wife, and try to feel that the great Father is Good, and can do nothing wrong, inscrutable and stern as His ways often seem to us. Surely, surely there is a Life beyond Death ; and that gloomy Portal leads to a purer and an abiding Mansion. — Suffering Angel! — But she is now free from suffering; and they whom she can no longer watch over are alone to be deplored. It seems uncertain to me whether I can be aught but an encumbrance at Templand : yet I feel called to hasten towards you, at this so trying moment. I mean to set out for Dumfries (and order mournings), and be with you some time to-night. I am almost lamed for riding ; so that it may be rather late (eight or nine o'clock) before I can arrive. My Mother is here ; and bids me, with tears in her eyes, send you her truest love, and prayers that God may sanctify to you this heavy stroke. The World, she says, is a Lie ; but God is a Truth, and His Goodness abideth forever. May He keep and watch over my Beloved One ! — I am always, her affectionate Thomas Carlyle. XXXIV.— To Dr. Carlyle, Munich. Edinburgh, 2 1 Comley Bank, ibtk April 1828. My dear Jack^ — . . . Our errand to Dum- friesshire was twofold. I went thither princi- pally to survey the state of matters at the io6 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 Craig ; Jane to see her Aunt at Templand, who was very sick ; sick, as it proved, even unto death ! Yes, that gentle soul is taken from us : she lingered, in great suffering, some two weeks after we arrived ; and the third, I saw her laid beside her Mother in the Church-yard of Crawford. How much all this must have shocked us, and deranged the purposes of those connected with us, you need not be told. Jane suffered and still suffers deeply, though in silence ; and that house of mourning at Templand ! — there is something in the thought of it that still not only saddens but pains me. Our old Grandfather rose like a Giant from sleep when the stroke fell on him : but there was in that grim stony aspect of his a trouble to one more than the loudest lament- ing. The Liverpool Brother, a solid, blunt, true-hearted man, is returned home as well as we ; and now Mrs. Welsh and her Father are left alone ; and how they are to fare together still seems a problem. Poor Jeannie ! meek, good, long-suffering heart ! For her I do not grieve : she is at rest in her still dwelling ; her fair image indestructible in our memories, and no sorrow or sadness can reach her pure spirit any more. But for the rest that still struggle in pain, and what is worse in blindness, in this Vale of Tears, O Jack ! It is they, it is we, that are to be pitied ! God help us, and enlighten us in the way that we should go ; and make us also ready, for the Hour cometh and is near at hand to us all ! — I must think no i828 TO DR. CARLYLE 107 more of this ; or my whole Letter will be little else than a Dirge. At Scotsbrig, where I staid in all about a week, I found everything as it might have been hoped and was wont to be. All were in health ; our Father seemingly quite recovered in his general health, only complaining a little of weakness in his limbs, especially in one knee ; and though grave in general, yet fond of talking as ever, and rising into brilliant activity as he saw the sowing advance. Of our Mother I saw more ; for Alick came down for seed-oats, and took her up in the cart with him to the Craig, where I lived with her at two times for several days ; and only took my leave last Wednesday at Dumfries, whither the whole household of us, Mary included, had gone down a-marketing or a-travelling. She was well, even better than usual, and living harmoniously with Mag. I had many a long spell, reading to these two, and Jamie, sometimes also with Jenny and our Father, the Munich Letters, all of which I had brought down in my pocket. Jean mean- while was here ; keeping house, no less ; and truly was found in this new department to have acquitted herself with consummate address. She has gained the title of Die kluge Schdffnerinn, partly borrowed out of Goethe's Helena. And thus, you see, they were all well and in order. 'Of Alick I shall only add, that he has lost or rather left his Middlebie love, as I think, for- ever and a day ; yet seems no worse but better, and is even friendlier and shrewder than he was. io8 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 He and I found your Letter (read, and sent down for us by Jeari) at the Dumfries Post- office, the first day and the first hour I entered their market ; and forthwith, at rather a quick step, we hastened with it to " our inn " ; where private, yet in sight of the dealing multitude, with each of us a glass of innocent beer and a well-going pipe of tobacco, I read it with " yen audible voice." Alick admitted, I think, that your Letter to him, had made him " greet." From him, from our Mother, and all quarters I was loaded with salutations to you and assurance that if they could write a letter worthy to go so far, they would do it with all their heart and all their soul. And so for the present, good Doctor, let this suffice you. And now I must tell you somewhat of our- selves ; concerning whom much might be said, had I room. We are to commence a new sort of life : it is at length decided that we go to Craigenputtock this Whitsunday ! The house there already looks a world better, and the painters and paperhangers undertake to be gone from it before we come ; so that only the out- of-doors part will require arrangement. I con- fess, I had many doubts and misgivings about removing thither for the present ; and possibly enough, had our house here (conditionally given up before we left Edinburgh) been still to let, we might have been tempted to engage it again, and stay here at least another year. But such was not the case : poor No. 21 was already let; so that no rational alternative remains i828 TO DR. CAKLYLE 109 for us. Accordingly Jane is out endeavouring to hire a fit servant ; we are choosing paper- specimens ; forwarding all plans of repair and adjustment ; and six carts come hither in the end of May to transport us hence bag and baggage. Neither am I sorry that we have now so decided. I anticipate with some confi- dence a friendly and rather comfortable arrange- ment at the Craig ; in the midst of which, not in idleness, yet in peace and more self-selected occupations, I may find more health, and what I reckon weightier, more scope to improve and worthily employ myself, which either here or there I reckon to be the great end of existence, and the only happiness one has any right to look for or even to wish. At the Craig, then, our Munich Doctor will find us ! And Dumfries may still be a station for him ; and then, as we contemplated, we are all in sight of one another ! So it has been ordered, and surely it is best so. By this the Doctor infers that St. Andrews is gone to the dogs. With the dogs in truth it is, and may be for me ; seeing I have now no part or lot in it, and am like to have none. Dr. Cook is as good as appointed ; and all my most magnanimous Testimonials have been as music to the deaf. Goethe's certificate arrived while I was in the country : mustard after dinner ; which these rough feeders shall not so much as smell ! . . . And now good-bye, my true Jack ; and love me always as I always love thee. Our women no LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 sent you letters with the Parcel, and ever in thought send you their best wishes. Good-bye, my dear Brother ! — Ever your affectionate, T. Carlyle. Jeffrey says " Macaulay " is coming hither ; and thus we shall see that "rising Sun." He has been writing on Dryden lately ; but of true Poetry (which "is of thriy^ kinds") the man has no glimpse or forecast. . . . XXXV. — To Dr. Carlyle, Munich. Craigenputtock, \oth June 1828. 2 My dear Jack — ... I have waited here, above two weeks, in the vain hope that some calmness would supervene : but painters and joiners still desecrate every corner of our dwelling ; and I write in the middle of con- fusion worse confounded, as better than not writing at all. We have arrived at Craigen- puttock, and found much done, but still much to do ; we must still ride and run with carts and saddle-horses to Dumfries every second day, and rejoice when we return if the course of events have left us a bed to sleep on. However, by the strength of men's heads and arms, a mighty improvement is and will be accomplished ; and one day as we calculate a quiet home must stand dry and clear for us amid this wilderness ; and the Philosopher will 1 Annandale pronunciation of three. ^ The greater part of this letter is printed in Froude's Life, ii. 25. i828 TO DR. CARLYLE in hoe his potatoes, in peace, on his own soil, and none to make him afraid. Had we come hither out of whim, one might have sickened and grown melancholy over such an outlook : but we came in search only of health with food and raiment, at least of the latter two without it ; and will not start at straws. Away then with Unmuth und Verdruss ! Man is born unto trouble, unto toil, as the sparks fly up- wards : let him toil therefore, as his hest is, and make no noise about the matter. Is the day wearisome ; dusty and full of midges, that the galled limbs are like to fail ? Ein guter Abend kommt heran Wenn ich den ganzen Tag gethan. Next evening after the arrival of your Letter, I wrote to Messrs. Black, Young, and Young, Booksellers, London (of the Foreign Review), directing them to pay twenty out of forty pounds, which they had ordered me to draw on them for, into the hands of Messrs. Ransom and Co. to be repaid to the Baron von Eichthal at Munich. I wrote ^zvo letters on the subject, and endeavoured to impress them with the necessity of speed and punctuality ; so that as they are men of business, I can hope that the money may have reached you almost by this time. ... I told the Blacks further that along with this parcel^ might probably come an Article for their Foreign Review. I meant the Article on Animal Magnetism : this you will direct : ^ Of books from Munich. 112 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 " W. Fraser, Esq., 64 Pall Mall, London;" and mention to him simply that you are my brother, and this Paper is for him ; supposing, let us understand, that the Paper is there and ready, which it must be confessed is a proviso that may be "doubted," However, if you cannot get it forward, do not take the matter to heart : the wells of thought will flow better in the Doctor's head some future day ; at least, " Naiter and Airt^ working together" will make them flow, or I am no Prophet. The grand thing at present is the want of money ; but this we shall try to front some other way. I sent these Booksellers a long Paper on Goethe for their next, still unprinted Number ; the Forty Pounds was for an Essay on his Helena. I meant to send them another piece (on the Life of Heyne) for this Number : but where is the cunning that could write a Paper, here, in the middle of uncreated Night ? — But I am getting very sick, and must leave you till after dinner, and go stick some rows of peas which are already flourishing in our "new Garden." Alas, Jack ! There is no sticking of peas for me at this hour, the cutting-tools being all in active operation elsewhere ; so I sit down to talk with you again, still impransus, though better in health than I was an hour ago. Indeed I have been on the whole in consider- ably better health ever since I came hither, and found my red -chestnut Irish Doctor (though ill-saddled) waiting for me in his 1 Nature and Art. 1 828 TO DR. CARLYLE 113 Stall. . . . Let us ever be grateful to the Giver of all Good ; and struggle onward with good heart In the path He directs. Some traces of our presence may also be left be- hind us In this pilgrimage of Life ; some grains added to the great pyramid of human Endeavour : what more has man to wish for ? So long a space has elapsed since our last Letter, that considerable store of news must have accumulated In the Interim, did I know rightly where to find, and how to arrange them. Of the Craig o' Putto I cannot yet rightly speak till we have seen what adjustment matters will assume. Hitherto, to say truth, all prospers as well as we could have hoped : the house stands heightened and white with roughcast ; a tight hewn porch in front, and cans on the chimney- heads ; and within. It seems all firm and sound ; during summer, as we calculate, it will dry, and the smoke we have reason to believe (though the grates are not yet all come) is now pretty well subdued : so that on this side, some satisfaction is to be looked for. We appear also to have been rather lucky in our servants. An active maid came with us from Edinburgh ; a dairy-woman, also of good omen, comes to us to-morrow from Thornhill ; and a thoroughgoing, out-of-doors, good-humoured slut of a byre-woman was re- tained after half a year's previous trial. Then we have two sufficient farming men ; and a bonneted stripling, skilful in sheep, from this glen. Alick himself is an active little fellow. 114 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 as ever bent him ; and though careworn, is diligent, hearty and compliant : he lives in his little room, which is still but half-furnished like the rest of the house ; yet peculiarly favoured in the blessing of a grate. Mary has been visiting at Scotsbrig, and is now learning to sew at Dumfries . . . Jane (the lesser) has taken her place here, and furnishes butter and afterings^ [jibbings) for tea, though we are still in terrible want of a cheeseboard, and by the blessing of Heaven shall get one to-morrow afternoon. Jane (the greater) is surveying all things, proving all, that she may hold fast what is good : she watches over her joiners and painters with an eye like any hawk's, from which nothing crooked, unplumb, or otherwise irregular can hide itself a moment. And then to crown our felicity, we have — two fowls hatching in the wood — a duck with twelve eggs, and a hen with (if I mistake not) eleven ; from which, for they are properly fed and cared for, great things are expected. Nay it was but three nights ago that we slew a Highland Stot,^ and salted him in barrel ; and his puddings even now adorn the kitchen-ceiling ! . . . From , Edinburgh, or other peopled quarters of the world, I have heard nothing. We left Edward Irving there, preaching like a Boa- nerges, with (as Henry Inglis very naively remarked) " the town quite divided about him, one party thinking that he was quite mad, 1 The last milk taken from a cow. 2 Bullock. 1 828 TO DR. CARLYLE 115 another that he was an entire humbug." For niy own share I would not be intolerant of any so worthy man ; but I cannot help thinking that if Irving is on the road to truth, it is no straight one. We had a visit from him, and positively there does seem a touch of extreme exaltation in him : I do not think he will go altogether mad, yet what else he will do I can- ; not so well conjecture. Cant and enthusiasm are strangely commingled in him : he preaches in steamboats and all open places, wears clothes of an antique cut (his waistcoat has flaps or tails midway down the thigh), and in place of ordinary salutation bids "the Lord bless you." I hear some faint rumour of his outheroding Herod since we left the North, but we have not yet got one newspaper, and know nothing positive. So " the Lawrt bless him!" for the present ; and if you pass through London on your return, you are engaged to go and see him, and I think he said, abide with him, or tarry with him on your way. The last two nights we spent in Edinburgh were spent — where think you ? In the house of Francis Jeffrey ; surely one of the kindest little men I have ever in my life met with. He and his household (wife and daughter) have positively engaged to come and pay us a visit here this yery summer ! I am to write him an Article on Burns, as well as one on Tasso : but alas ! alas ! all writing is yet far from my hand. Walter Scott, I did not see, because he was in London ; nor hear of, perhaps because he was ii6 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 a busy or uncourteous man ;^ so I left his Goethe-medals to be given him by Jeffrey. Lockhart had written a kind of Life of Burns, and men in general were making another uproar about Burns : it is this Book (a trivial enough one) which ^ am to pretend re.mew\ ns. Further, except continued abuse of Leigh Hunt for his Lord Byron and Some of his Contemporaries, there seemed no news in " The Literary world," or rather universe ; for was there ever such a world as it has grown ? And now, Jack, allow me to ask thee one plain question. When is thy broad face to be turned homewards, and how } Specify, specify ; for all and sundry are inquiring. ... I shall want many books, if I have any cash : a Con- versationslexicon I m,ust have at almost all rates. But of these things you will hear in due time. We expect your Letter by return of Post, you under- stand ; for time enough has been lost already. Be steady and active and of good cheer, my dear Doctor ; and come home and live beside us, and let us all be as happy as we can. — I am ever, your true Brother, • T. Carlyle. XXXVI. — To Dr. Carlyle, Munich. Craigenputtock, 2 e,th August 1828. My dear Brother Jack— I write to you at present in no ordinary anxiety ; impelled to do 1 If circumstances had brought Carlyle and Scott together, the unfavourable surmises of the former would no doubt have speedily disappeared. Scott's heavyfinancial difficulties, of which Carlyle seems to have heard nothing, began in January 1826. 1 828 TO DR. CARLYLE 117 SO by my own feelings and the importunity of almost every friend you have. It is near four months since I had a Letter from you ! Surely you that were wont to be so punctual a corre- spondent must have fallen into some strange perplexity that we do not hear of you. . . . Every post-day these five weeks we have been waiting with more or less eagerness ; which of late has amounted to a really painful solicitude. Heaven grant that it be only some fit of business or indolence or indecision ! Alick and I hide our anxieties ; but you may guess how our Mother is feeling. My only comfort is that had you been seriously sick, or otherwise in distress, the Baron would have written to me. And my only resource is to write to yourself, ignorant as I am of your present movements and even abode (for by this time perhaps you are travelling again) ; and to beg of you for the love of Heaven, wherever you may be, provided it be in a civilised country where a sheet of paper or even a banana-leaf is to be had by purchase, begging or theft, to let us have news of you without loss of one moment. This is the sum total of my petition, and indeed the gist of this whole Letter. I would not exaggerate painful possibilities ; nay many a time our unbelieving imaginations have been belied, as we hope they will still be this time : but twelve hundred miles, you will observe, is a long distance ; and misfortune lies in wait for all the sons of Adam. Heaven grant our Doctor were safe home among us, and curing ii8 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 disease on his native soil ! It is our Mother's prayer, and every one of us joins in it. . . . The truth is, as you see, your whole history has of late become involved to us in inscrutable mystery. By this we expected to have known that you were almost on your return to us ; for your summer classes must have terminated before now : and in Alick's last letter, you talk of " liking to spend another yGsx in Germany, if you had the means." O Jack! thou art beside thyself; much learning doth make thee mad. But not to trouble you with any more of these regrets and sorrows, let me try if I can find any word of news to tell you ; of which necessary you too must be getting somewhat short. Heaven be praised, I have still comfort- able tidings to send you of all your friends at both homes: Jemmy was here this week (Saturday, Sunday, and went on Monday) ; carting down ^ the half of a fierce Bull, now no longermischievous, but beneficent, not assaulting husbandmen, but nourishing them with other than babes' meat : and from Jemmy we heard nothing but good. Little Jean and I, more- over, were at Scotsbrig some three weeks ago, for a few days : our Mother seemed to be even rather better than her wont; and all the rest about as well. . . . Further, poor WuU Tait was killed in the head of Scotsbrig ground, by the rushing-in of a c\Vi2.rry-brow. He called to his neighbour to run ; but was too old and stiff 1 To Scotsbrig. 1 828 TO DR. CARLYLE 119 to run himself, and so sank in the flood of rubbish, and died that afternoon. Thus does Fate play- its pranks ; and everywhere there is Comedy and j stern Tragedy if there be men. The Scotsbrig moor was as grim an arena for poor Wull, as Trafalgar for Nelson, or Lutzen for Adolphus ; and the Spirit of the Universe equally beheld it ; , and in His eye it was of equal moment. . . . As for ourselves at Craigenputtock, we are still struggling, as men must ever struggle, with the perversities of existence ; but in as manful a manner as we can. It has been judged best to build another house, where Alick and his Agriculture may go on apart altogether from this establishment. Accordingly four walls do actu- ally now stand, fronting the east, exactly at right angles to the direction of the barn, in front of the millshed, and on the spot where the stackyard used to be. Stumpy Cottage has been taken down to help to build it and cover it. Weeks ago the place should have been inhabited : but torrents of rain and of ill-luck have kept us back, and the slater only came yesterday. We reckon nevertheless that it must get finished at last, and be a very fair kind of house. Mary and Alick are to keep it, and we two shall live here ; much more commodiously for all parties. . . . In this mansion itself we have had a battle like that of St. George and the Dragon ; neither are we yet conquerors. Smoke and Wet and Chaos ! The first we have subdued, the last two we are subduing. May the Lord keep all Christian men from flitting ! As to Literature, I20 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 which also is breadmaking, I have done nothing, since Whitsunday, but a shortish Paper on Heyne for the Foreign Review, which will appear in No. IV. A long Article on Goethe is just publishing in No. III., which has been (for want of cash, I believe) exceedingly delayed. And at this very date, I am very busy, and third part done, with a " fair full and free " Essay on Burns for the Edinburgh Review ; a Life of that Poet having appeared by Lockhart. None can say how bilious I am and, am like to be. But I have begun to ride daily on Larry, and so Jeffrey shall h.3.Ye his Article at the appointed time. That wonderful little man is expected here very soon with Weib und Kind! He takes no little interest in us ; writes often, and half hateshalflojiea me -with thejjtmost sincerity. NayTieevenoffers me in the coSfest lightest . manner the use of his purse, and evidently rather wishes I would use it. Proh Deum atque hominwnfidem ! This from a Scotchman and a Lawyer ! Jane is in considerable trepidation, getting the house fully equipped for these august visitors. Surely I think she will succeed : nay already we are very smart. Here is a drawing-room with Goethe's picture in it, and a piano, and the finest papering on the walls ; and I write even now, behind it, in my own little Library (once Alick's bedroom and sitting-room) ; out of which truly I can see nothing but a barnroof, tree-tops, an empty hay- cart, and under it perhaps a stagnant midden-cock with hens, overfed, or else dazed with wet and i828 TO HIS MOTHER 121 Starvation ; but within which I may see a clear fire (of peats and Sanquhar coals), with my desks and books and every accoutrement I need in the fairest order. Shame befal me, if I ought to complain, except it be of my own stupidity and pusillanimity ! . . . Now Jack for God's sake write instan- taneously ; and so I add no more. — Your Brother, T. Carlyle. There has been some further whisper about the London Professorship. Basil Montagu advises me to become a candidate ; for he ''knows that they are at a loss for one." No wonder they are : Dugald Stewart is dead, and British Philosophy with him. I have declined candidating any more there; but said that if they wanted me, let them speak and I would listen, and answer. There, probably it will at length continue lying. I will go anywhither, and care not though I go nowhither. . . . XXXVII.— To his MOTHER, Scotsbrig. Craigenputtock, Thursday night [Postmark iitk September], 1828.1 My dear Mother — I am very tired with writing all day, and it is now half-past eleven o'clock : nevertheless I must write you a few words before I go to sleep ; for a Letter has just this minute arrived from Jack I The man, William, brought it from Dumfries, and will take this down to-morrow. 1 Fewer letters than ordinary seem to have been written by Carlyle during this summer. 122 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 The Doctor is well in health; but seem- ingly somewhat afflicted ' in spirit ; the old demons Pride and Poverty being at work with him. . . . Meanwhile, my dear Mother, do not disturb yourself about the youth ; for evidently he is in perfect health ; and ails nothing, except from the old Devil's -disease, haughtiness of heart. I expect to be down ere long ; perhaps in a week or two : I will bring the Doctor's Letter with me. Jeffrey is coming hither very soon : it may be I shall not get away till he is gone. I am in my usual state of health ; better than usual with me when I am writing. . . . Only we are in such a confusion, as to out- of-doors work, as you have seldom seen. The shearing could be finished in about a week, were not the weather broken : but there are masons, and joiners, and flaggers, and hewers, and plasterers ; and all is swashing and swatter- ing ^ in extremity of bustle, which is tolerable only because we do hope it will be done soon. It is one great mercy, surely, that we are all spared in health. So let us fight away as long as we dow,''' and fear no colours ! . . . I rejoice to learn that you are pretty well ; that you sometirnes shear on afternoons. Mag will be here one of these days, and tell us all about it. Alas ! It is long, long, since I had a quiet word with my Mother ! But surely this hubbub will subside, and I shall be my own master, and Larry s. — Meanwhile my best prayers are with you all. Remember me in ' Bespattering and splashing. - Are able. 1 828 . '.. ■• TO DR. CARLYLE 123 love to my Father, to Mag,' Jemrh'y and Jenny. — I am ever your affectionate Son, T. Carlyle. They are all asleep here, and cannot send you their love, except in dreams. I am the only reasoning mortal in the house at this moment. — One smoke, and I too am off! . . . XXXVIII.— To Dr. Carlyle, Vienna. Craigenputtock, 10th October 1828. My dear Brother — ... A/l of us are well: still fighting our way, with the old measure of strength, courage and success. Our day too will come : we have been long spared. I my- self am in better rather than in worse health than usual ; have been rather busy for some time ; and am again purposing to begin scrib- bling. This October season always makes me pensive, sometimes absolutely melancholy : how- ever, melancholy itself is not a miserable state. The Paper on Burns is finished ; and I sup- pose will appear in December ; being too late for this present Number. The Proof-sheets of it are even now in the house, and corrected. Jeffrey had dipt the first portion of it all into shreds (partly by my permission), simply be- cause it was ' too long.' My first feeling was of indignation, and to demand the whole back again, that It might. lie in my drawer and worm- eat, rath qr than. cpme before the world in that horrid souterkin shape ; the body of a quadru- ped with the head of a bird ; a man shortened 124 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 by cutting out his thighs, and fixing the knee- pans on the hips ! However, I determined to do nothing for three days ; and now by re- placing and readjusting many parts of the first sixteen pages (there are three sheets in all ; and the last two were not meddled with) I have once more put the thing into a kind of publishable state ; and mean to send it back, with a private persuasion that probably I shall not soon write another for that quarter.^ Never- theless, I will keep friends with the man ; for he really has extraordinary worth, and likes me, at least heartily wishes me well. We had three such days of him last week I Wife and child and lapdog and maid were here with him ; and the storm vainly howled without, and the glar^ vainly gaped for us (we are making a road to the front door ; and the poor Duke was forced to dismount from his carriage at some of the yetts^) ; for we had roaring fires within and the brightest talk, enough and to spare ! It was a fairy time : but you shall hear 1 Carlyle afterwards (23d November 1830) wrote to Mr. Macvey Napier, Jeffrey's successor in the Edinburgh Review : " My respected friend your predecessor had some difficuhy with me in adjusting the respective prerogatives of Author and Editor, for though not, as I hope insensible to fair reason, I used sometimes to rebel against what I reckoned mere author- ity, and this partly perhaps as a matter of literary conscience ; being wont to write nothing without studying it if possible to the bottom, and writing always with an almost painful feeling of scrupulosity, that light editorial hacking and hewing to right and left was in general nowise to my mind." — Selection from the Correspondence of Macvey Napier (1879), p. 96. 2 Mud. 3 Gates. 1 828 TO DR. CARLYLE 125 of it all by word of mouth. Robert Welsh ^ had also been here with a Sister. Then came William Graham (who still loves you truly), and Dobie the Preacher,^ and a threat, which ended as such, from John Gordon at Kirkcud- bright. It seemed as if the whole world had at once broken loose on us ; according to the old adage: "It never rains but it pours." However, it is all done now, and the quietest and I hope busiest winter lies before us. Alick is in his new house, which promises, were it rightly swept and garnished, to be a first-rate cottage.; Mary is with him, and Jane also lives there for the present : we are all in harmony, and have tea together at least every Sunday night. Mary and Jane have just left us after that very business : Alick was not with them ; for we calculate that to-night he must be in the precincts of Falkirk, to buy his winter-stock to- morrow. So soon as I get Larry back, I am for Scotsbrig ; where, however, we heard, two days ago, that they are all well. . . . [Postscript by Mrs. Carlyle.] Dear Doctor — It was only yesterday that we had the nicest suet-dumpling at dinner (a suet-dumpling in the shape of a heart ! which must be admitted by all men to have been a grace beyond the reach of art) and I could not help thinking of thee. Doctor, and how much better you would have been here, assisting at 1 Mrs. Carlyle's paternal uncle. 2 Father of Mrs. Carlyle's friend, Mrs. Russell of Holmhill. 126 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 the eating of it, and then unfolding thy mighty genius as • of old, in floods , of eloquence, than sitting " looking from you " at that vile glacis. Gird up thy loins, man ! and come home to us ! and another dumpling shall not be want- ing, a dumpling as big as the moon to cele- brate the wanderer's return ! God bless thee, Jack, and cure this rage for travelling, which is the only thing which prevents your being "an ornament to society in every direction."^ — Ever thy affectionate Sister, Jane Welsh. XXXIX. — To Dr. Carlyle, Vienna. Craigenputtock, ^(>th November 1828. My dear Jack — As the Letters seem to take at least a week longer in travelling to Vienna than they did to Munich, it behoves me to answer you with the least possible delay. Ten days have already elapsed much against my will ; and I write to-night in great haste, rather than wait a few days more. Your welcome Letter met Mary and me at Dumfries, as we were bound to Scotsbrig, in stormy weather, on a rather melancholy errand ; and diffused a gleam of real joy over that otherwise rather 1 A poor, but lively and healthy, half-idiot and street beg- gar, in Birmingham, whom I had grown used to, the dirtiest and raggedest of human beings (face never washed, beard a fortnight old, knee-breeches slit at the sides, and become knee-a/^^«j, flapping to and fro over bare, dirty legs), said, one day, under my window, while somebody was vainly attempting to chaff him, " Damn thee, I's an ornament to society in every direction." — T. C. in Letters and Memorials of Jane Welsh Carlyle, i. 43. i828 TO DR. CARLYLE 127 despondent household. For you must know that our sister Mag was very ill, and we were sent for to come and see her with our own eyes. Happy that I can now in a great measure say was; for though still very weakly the poor lassie is considered out of danger. ... If any perceptible alteration for the worse take place, be sure I will warn you instantly : so, in the meantime, do not annoy yourself with sur- mises and forecastings, where, though no one is sure of more than the breathing he draws, there seems no reason for special fear. I believe, I have said too much about it already ; indeed far too much : but I approve of punctu- ality in ill as well as good news ; and I think I have made it worse rather than better for the telling. And so let us rest (in this as in all other matters) in hope and contentment not grounded on darkness but on light. Your last Letter, as I have said, gave us all the. greatest pleasure ; both by the news it brought us, and the sensible style it was written in. It exhibits you in quite another state of welfare both outward and inward than any Letter we had received for months. And the grand news of all news for us is that your travelling mania has now subsided, and we are to see the 'Docior' s gawsie face^ back among us, so soon as the winter is over! Come, dear Jonathan ; for thou hast tarried too long already. What is in Dutchland or any other Land save old Scotland, but a sun above thee, and earth 1 Broad, jolly face. 128 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 and water beneath ; and no soul that has time to care truly for thee ? Here is bread and lodging on your native soil ; and fool is he that expects aught more from any soil under the heavenly vault. O that the roads were open, and we saw our brave Lord Moon, once more stumping about these wolds, whether it were that he walked wrong with the left foot or the right! His very Logic would be welcome to us; and I have it on authority, that a dumpling of one cubic foot in extent would be cooked on the day of his arrival. Come therefore, dear Doil ; and do not lose thyself in Pepperfield any longer ! ^ But I must more seriously incline to send you news of Craigenputtock, for which you express such friendly curiosity. Know then that we are all well, and struggling with as much heart as ever. The fruit of our labour is not to be altogether hid in a bushel ; for we expect to astonish you with the figure we make here, even by the' time of your arrival.^ This house (bating some outskirt things which must be left till Spring) is really a substantial, comfortable, and even half-elegant house. I sit here in my little library, and laugh at the howling tempests, for -there are green curtains and a clear fire 1 John had, as a mere baby, sallied out, as he afterwards tried to explain, to fight the French, and was lost for several hours. He was at last found in Pepperfield (close to the old home at Ecclefechan), where among the tall growing com he had cried himself to sleep, hopeless of ever finding his way out of it. — M. C. 2 Most of the remainder of this letter is printed in Froude's Life,:\\. 47- 1 828 TO DR. CARLYLE 129 and papered walls ; the " old kitchen " also is as tight a dining-room as you would wish for me, and has a black clear-barred grate, at which, when filled with Sanquhar coals, you might roast Boreas himself. The Goodwife too is happy, and contented with me, and her solitude, which I believe is not to be equalled out of Sahara itself You cannot figure the stillness of these moors in a November drizzle : never- theless I walk often under cloud of night (in good Ecclefechan clogs down as far as Carstam- mon-burn, sometimes to Sundaywell ^) convers- ing with the void heaven, in the most pleasant fashion. Besides Jane also has a pony now, which can canter to perfection even by the side of Larry ! To-morrow she is going over to Templand with it ; and it is by her that I send this Letter. Grace, our servant, a tight, tidy, careful, sharp-tempered woman, is the only other inmate of the house ; and except Ben Nelson,^ we expect no more visitors through winter. But I write hard all day ; then Jane and I (both learning Spanish for the last month) read a chapter of Don Quixote between dinner and tea, and are already half through the first volume, and eager to persevere. After tea, I sometimes write again (being dreadfully slow at the business); and then generally go over to Alick and Mary ; smoke my last pipe with them ; and so end the day, having done little 1 About two miles from Craigenputtock. 2 An old friend ; a man of intelligence and kindliness ; at this time a wool-stapler in Annan. K 130 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 good perhaps, [but] almost no ill that I could help to any creature of God's. So pass our days ; except that sometimes I stroll (with my axe or bill) in the plantations ;, and when I am not writing, am reading. We had Henry Inglis here for three days; and our Father for a week, lately ; both of whom seemed highly con- tented with this wonderful Craig. — Alick and Mary, you already understand, live in their own cottage, or rather double farmhouse; for, were it once dried, it will be the bieldest^ tightest mansion of its sort within some miles of it. They have two men-servants and two maid- servants ; are fattening, or merely boarding quantities of black -cattle, have almost a dozen pigs, and plenty of weak-corn, and about eighty cartloads of potatoes (to say nothing of turnip- acres) to feed them with. Alick is about thatch- ing a cattle-shed, long since built (of dry stones ^) down near the moor ; and we have had road- men, for many weeks, gravelling the front of this door (a most marked improvement), making us a proper road to it, and thoroughly repairing the old road (to the outmost yett), which last task they have not yet completed. Thus you see, Chaos is rolling himself back from us by degrees ; and all winter, we are to have stone- diking and planting and draining (if I can write for the cash ! ) till by and by I think this hermitage will positively become a very toler- able place, and the Doctor, as we said, will be astonished to behold it. For the rest, we drink ^ Snuggest, most sheltered. ^ Stones without mortar. i828 TO DR. CARLYLE 131 tea together every Sunday night, and live in good brotherhood, having no neighbours that do not wish us well. — As to my writing of which you hear so much, it is only for the present a most despicable " Article " entitled German Play- wrights (including your Grillparzer) with which I expect to be done in a week : next I mean to write one on Novalis, and probably a larger one on Voltaire. Some day, these roads will be made, and skylights mended, and all tight and pargetted, and I shall have leisure to cease reviewing a little, and try to give Work for reviewing. Our news, beyond our own household, are mostly I think of a sombre cast. James Ander- son, the young Laird of Stroquhan, our kind neighbour and acquaintance, died of two days' illness a few weeks ago ; an event which causes deep sadness among all connected with him. What will become of his Distillery is not known. Poor John Welsh, the Coachman, was to be buried the last day I was at Ecclefechan : other deaths also, there are of persons known to us ; for the cup goes round, and who so cunning as to pass it by ? . . . Alas ! I had almost forgotten to say that honest good old John Grier ^ of the Grove is gone to his long home. Alick and Jamie and I assisted at 1 John Grierson, husband of Carlyle's maternal -aunt " Jeannie" (died 18 10). Carlyle went, with his mother, from Ecclefechan, to take leave of her before she died ; and there is still extant among his relics the little present she then gave to him as a keepsake. — M. C. 132 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 his funeral some three weeks ago : he also died suddenly ; but like a just man, and with entire composure. Gracious God ! Is not this Thy world a mystery, and grand with Terror as well as Beauty ! — -My Letter, you see, will end in sable, like the life of man. My own thoughts grow graver every year I live. — Write instantly, my dear Brother ; say that you are well, and will soon be with us. Good night ! My candle and time and paper are done.^Ever affection- ately yours, T. Carlyle. XL. — To Mr. Henry Inglis, Edinburgh.^ Craigenputtock, lUh December \%7.%. My dear Sir — Your letter arrived this morning to breakfast, and set the table in a roar, hearty enough to make up for the fatal nature of both the others that came along with it. For you are to know that we had two letters besides ; one, as it chanced, for every member of the household, including the servant maid herself I burst open mine ; and I was obliged to close it again after the first three words ; it was from New York, and belonged to quite a different man, an advocate in Edin- burgh, I suppose, with whom I have no com- munity except that of name. Our poor maid fared still worse ; she had infused a certain modicum of tea, and was quietly toasting bread for the nourishment of these earthly bodies, 1 This and other letters to Mr. Inglis are reprinted from the Glasgow Herald oi i6th February i'882. 1 828 TO MR. HENRY INGLIS 133 when the fateful scroll with "hast" (haste) written on it was delivered to her. Instantly I hear a crash as of broken crockery, then a movement to and fro ; breakfast lingers in appearing. Jane goes to investigate the mat- ter ; finds that it is a proposal of marriage, or perhaps it might be refusal to marry, from some Shoulderknot in the north country, in conse- quence of which the love-sick Abigail has smashed that old-established teapot into a thousand shards ! Conceive our situation. A raw December morning ; one letter still sealed, another broken by mistake on the table, and, apparently, even the hope of tea evaporated into air ! However, as I hinted, tea did arrive, indeed with astonishing promptitude ; your letter is opened ; and in one loud peal of innocent laughter, the whole catastrophe's forgotten. This surely is what Bailie Waugh ^ would call "foin wroiting" such an effect has it on the minds of men. But to be serious one moment, here is a letter for the Opium-eater, whose address, if you cannot find it elsewhere, you will learn at the office of the Saturday Post in Register Street. There is at the end a small but sufficient introduction iox you in that sheet. If you choose to deliver it in person, or rather to call after it is delivered, you will find De Quincey a man of very considerable genius, 1 Husband of Carlyle's maternal grand-aunt "Babbie" (Barbara), a shoemaker, with whom Carlyle had boarded when he was a schoolboy at Annan. — M. C. 134 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1828 and labouring in a state of depression (for he is by birth a man of fortune), which renders him still more interesting. He also is a German, a Kantist ; a Mystic also, I suppose. Would you ask Clark as you pass some day what he has done with my No. 4 of the Foreign Review ? It is not at Sinclair the bookseller's in Dumfries ; should have been sent to the care of Mr. Aitken, Academy Street, and so may probably have gone to the Limbo of Vanity some weeks before its time. I have a Life of Heyne in it ; not worth sixpence, and all misprinted, I believe, for the proof-sheets were lost. There will be a highly ^^^^mystical paper in the next number on German Playwrights, without any undue admiration from beginning to end. I mean to continue reviewing in that melancholy vehicle for some months yet. By all means buy me that Spanish Grammar that I may light my pipe with this other one at the very earliest date. Hamoniere is the title, which I mention because, without any exception known to me, it is the worst Grammar in exist- ence at this era. Nevertheless, we shall be through the first volume of Don Quixote to- morrow night, and have liked it exceedingly. Few languages seem equal to the Spanish, few lips so melodious in any language as those of the old maimed soldier, who had not in this world so much as a house to live in, except a jail. Shame on us ! Who are we, and what do we complain of, knowing that such things have been, and are, and will be ? i828 TO MR. HENRY INGLIS 135 Persevere in your German. Lessing is a true man, though a tart one ; and Napp will carry you through triumphantly if you apply. Make my best respects to him. By and by he will let you into Schiller's J ungfrau' von Orleans, or History of the Netherlands ; either of which will interest you more. Further, I must say that you are infinitely unjust to " Blockheads," as they are called. Ask yourself seriously within your own heart, What right have you to live wisely in God's world, and they not to live a little less wisely ? Is there a man more to be condoled with, nay, I will say to be cherished and tenderly treated, than a man that has no brain ? My Purse is empty : it can be filled again ; the Jew Roth- schild could fill it ; or I can even live with it very, very far from full. But, gracious Heavens ! what is to be done with my empty Head? Consider, too, if you object to the vanity of blockheads, how little harm it does. If a man will wear a bladder full of wind, and call it a purse full of gold, does not every shopman he offers it to shed a kind tear over him ? But the " Leddy," as she is called here, wants to say a word or two ; so good-night ! Write when- ever you have leisure, and send me all manner of tidings : at present I do not even see an Edinburgh newspaper. — Ever truly yours, Thomas Carlyle. 136 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1829 XLI. — To Dr. Carlyle, Vienna. Craigenputtock, \ith January 1829. My dear Jack — . . . Nothing in your Letter was thousandth-part so interesting as the tidings that you do actually mean to terminate your rambles so soon, and come home to your friends and home-duties. I have said and written till I am ashamed to repeat it, that you neither can, nor will, nor indeed ought to, feel any permanent satisfaction of mind till you settle down to act what you have been so laboriously learning ; and unless Medicine differs from all earthly pursuits I am acquainted with, you will find that in it also Action is the best, and, after the mere elements, the only Teacher that is to be had in any country of the world. It seems clear to me also that a man of sound character and medical talent could not fail to have eminent success at this time, in many places of Scotland, perhaps in few others more remark- ably than in our own County, or Town, of Dumfries. A universal complaint there is, that no man of the slightest approach to true qualifi- cation in Medicine is to be found far or near : I could fancy a Doctor such as he should be, rising into high repute here, realising for him- self the fairest success, outward and inward, that any reasonable man could wish for. . . . Come home, then, my beloved Doctor, with what speed your Gelegenheiten can convey you; and leave that pudding-eating city of Vienna^ 1 829 TO DR. CARLYLE I37 and those ugly sheepskin Sclavonians to fight their own battle forever and a day. . . . The [route] that brings you soonest home will be the welcomest for all of us. One consideration must be already familiar to you ; the wish I should have, were I in your situation, to see the Dichter des Jahrhunderts at Weimar. Paris and London will stand throughout one's whole life and longer ; but only one Goethe will be visible in this world, and that only for a short term of years. I think, I have mentioned twice (to the Poet himself, and to Eckermann, his Secretary) that you were likely to see them in Spring. . . . I imagined I had given you most minute and punctual descriptions of our Thun und Lassen here, and you complain that you can understand nothing whatever about it. Know this one thing for your contentment, dear Jack, that we are all moderately well, and working our way through this pitiful existence as stoutly as we can. I have sat for many weeks at my desk, writing duller and duller Articles for Fraser and Jeffrey ; and what is worse, I have sat reading these four days without stirring beyond wind of the fireplace; so that I am bilious enough. Surely, however, I reckon myself better since you left us. I shall never be well, while I inhabit this carcass ; but I am willing enough to be sickish. The ''Duke " has-maltreated Burns till I cannot bear to look on it : he wishes me to write more for him, and chatters unprofitably about Mysticism and so 138 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1829 forth.^ I am very much alone in this world. Nevertheless I must go on a little farther in the highly despicable craft of reviewing ; for there are trees to be planted and roads to be made ; and man cannot live without money even in the Dunscore wilderness. Alas for the days when Diogenes could fit up his tub, and let the " literary world " and all other worlds, except the only true one within his own soul, wag hither and thither at discretion ! But Courage ! To the willing, all things are possible ; it is not on out- ward circumstances, but on one's own weak heart that the blame lies. Courage, with hope or with- out it, to the last hour of Life ! . . . There has been a dreadful piece of work at Edinburgh, with Irishmen decoying people into houses and there murdering them to sell their bodies to Dr. Knox!^ One unspeakable miscreant is to be hanged for that crime in a few days. They killed Daft Jamie in that way ; the poor purblind creature that went about with a show-box on his back ; said to be a brother of Peter Nimmo's. It is said, thirteen other crimes of that kind have been confessed ; the one that brought all the rest to light was the killing of a miserable old strolling Irish- woman. . . . 1 Jeffrey's " unprofitable " admonitions may be found in Froude's Life, ii. 38. 2 For dissection : these were Burke and Hare, the notorious murderers. Burke was hanged on the king's evidence of his confederate. 1 829 TO DR. CARLYLE 139 XLII. — To Dr. Carlyle, Paris. Craigenputtock, 'ith March 1829. My dear Doctor — We received your many- dated Letter, last night ; with real pleasure to find that you were still well, and were ad- vancing, like Hannibal across the Alps, through many troubles, with your broad face home- wards. Let us hope that you are now far over the Rhine, Strassburg with Slawkenbergius' Nose ^ and the wonderful Minster clean behind you, and the click- clack of Parisian " Cafds a deux billards" at this very time saluting your astonished ear. I never was more hurried in my life ; being in the very thickest of an "Article," and hemmed in by Time: however Jane is for Dumfries to-morrow, and I gladly answer you without delay. . . . We are all well here, and all nearly well at Scotsbrig, Mag being greatly better. . . . The public is in a bustling state here ; for besides spring-work, we have trees to plant, and much digging, and I got no man-servant, as I had meant to do, at Candlemas, but must wait till Whitsunday; and Alick's men and him- self are all busy enough with their own con- cerns. Meanwhile I keep within doors ; toil- ing vehemently at an Essay on Voltaire, which, with another on Novalisi is to appear in Fraser's Review, about the first of April. Thus "mall may be kept in shaft " a little longer ; for 1 See Tristram Shandy. HO LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1829 Craigenputtock has naturally enough a wide throat for money, especially hitherto. Fraser asks rather eagerly after your Paper on German Medicine; but this, I suppose, like so much else, is still lying in the inkstand. Are you looking at the wonders of Paris ; the Pont des Arts, the Notre Dame, the Pillar of Austerlitz, the site of the Bastille ? Is not there a strange old pump-looking erection with dragons in that very Place des Victoires f Cast your eye also on the Sorbonne, the forsaken crow-nest of Theology. You can also go to the Rue de la Paix No. 9, and look at the Hotel de Wagram, where your Brother once dwelt. Also, if possible, find out the Rue Traversiere and the Rue de Beaune, where Voltaire lived with Du Ch^telet, and where he died ; and bring me some account of them. Both must be near the Tuileries, I should think, on the north side of the River. Can you see Villemain, Cousin, Lamartine, or any of those new Litterateurs ? I fear not. But go and dine with the Restaurateur Prevot one day in honour of me, and with Very, though rather dearer, another : they are both in the Palais Royal, where 'Vice sitteth on his filagree seats, and Improvement advanceth with slow and heavy steps to dis- place him.' Can you buy me a cheap lithograph print of Voltaire, said to be in any measure accurate ? Above all things, however, hasten home ! . . . I have written much, or rather it should be, long, to-day ; and am altogether wearied. At i829 TO MR. HENRY INGLIS 141 dusk I had a walk or race, half-way to Black- mark Gate or Gap (for there is no gate there, and will not be henceforth) ; and now it is past ten. The hills are all gleaming like Strom- boHs or yEtnas, with the burning of heath ; otherwise this place is silent, solitary as Tadmor of the Wilderness. Yet the infinite vault is over us, and this Earth, our little Ship of Space, is under us ; and man is everywhere in his Maker's eye and hand ! — But why should I preach } To conclude, Jane still engages for the dumpling ; and hopes to see you, shortly after eating it, a contented man. You will tell us of wonders in the undiscovered countries ; " of antres vast and deserts idle, and men whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders. " Come home, dearest Tongleg, and tell us all ! We shall expect you weekly and daily. God ever keep you, and lead you ! — " Now my weary lips I close. Leave me, leave me to repose " ! — Your Brother, T. Carlyle. XLIII. — To Mr. Henry Inglis, Edinburgh. Craigenputtock, z^st March 1829. My dear Sir — I employ my first leisure in answering your Letter, which found me some Weeks ago in the heart of a scribbling-bout ; writing, as is too often my case, against Time as well as Dulness. — Your letters give us such satisfaction, that I honestly wish we got many more of them ; especially as you are so mag- 142 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1829 nanimous in the matter of replies, and make allowance for all my real or imaginary engage- ments. News from Edinburgh are ever wel- come ; — news from yourself, of your own efforts and progress in good things, are above all wel- come. ■ I cannot but reckon it a good feature of your conduct, independently of my own private feelings in regard to it, that you have attached yourself with such trustfulness, and honest, though very greatly exaggerated esteem, to one whom except an appearance of some spiritual worth or other, there is nothing what- ever to recommend. As Time teaches you better to bestow your admiration, I hope the feeling itself will take still deeper root, and spread still more widely : a man who has nothing to admire, — nothing to love except his own poor Self, may be reckoned a completed character ; — he is in the minimum state of moral perfection, — no more is to be made of him, a vollendeter Stumpfer. I have often said, and far oftener felt, that Nature has bestowed on you an endowment of mind, such as she has refused to thousands ; and surely it is not without real interest, that I look forward to see how, in the future, you will unfold and turn to use so fair a talent. For henceforth, it depends nearly altogether on yourself: if you can but learn the lessons which Experience will teach you, it matters little whether these be of a sweet or bitter nature : the bitter as well as the sweet are but the rind inclosing a fruit of Wisdom, which is i829 TO MR. HENRY INGLIS 143 in itself celestial and perennial. Diligence, un- wearied, steadfast Endeavour ; like the stars unhasting, unresting ! This is the sceptre with which man rules his Destiny ; and though fragile as a reed, removes mountains, spiritual as well ,as physical. I need not remind you here, that such Diligence as will avail is not of book-studies alone ; but primarily, and in a far higher degree, respects the heart and moral dispositions. He who loves Truth knows it to be priceless, and cleaves to it through all shapes, in thought, word, and deed, — as to the life of his soul. Nay, I believe the first and infinitely the most important question with re- gard to • any Student of Knowledge, is pre- cisely this very question, so often overlooked : — What is the state of his moral temper and practice ? Does he really love Truth, or only the market-price of Truth, — the praise and money it will sell for ? Has he conquered his vanity, or rather, where that is impossible, is he faithfully striving against it ? — If you answer, No; — then I can add, that in this way, Truth, except mere Macculloch and Co.'s Truth, will positively never disclose herself to him : if Yes, — then I can say as positively, let him persevere to the end, and all will be well. Indeed for flesh and blood, it is hard ; and every good man needs to be accomplished with martyr virtues, for he is a Martyr (a Witness) in his day and generation ; but on the other hand, it is the noblest honour to be in the smallest degree fitted out for such enterprises ; and 144 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1829 does not the meanest man feel that all royal diadems and Pitt Diamonds are but the dust of the highway, compared with the invisible and only true majesty, that of the mind ? My earnest, often - repeated advice to you, therefore, is. Persevere ! Persevere ! In all practical, in all intellectual excellence, think no acquirement enough. Throw aside all frivolity ; walk not with the world, where it is walking wrong ; — war ad necem with Pride and Vanity, and all forms of Self-conceit within you; be diligent in season and out of season! — It depends on you, whether we are one day to have another man, or only another money- gaining and money-spending machine. You speak about Books, and the want of an aim in your studies. Herein, I believe, your own best judgment must be your best guide. Whenever you feel a call, — a genuine wish for knowledge, it is safest for you to follow it. Only be sure you avoid Dilletantism in all things ; be sure you do not take up a subject merely because it is singular, and will get you credit, but because you really love it, and feel the want of it, and find your own reward in pursuing it. For the rest, all sorts of knowledge are available in our day, and the true following of almost any path will lead you into the Temple of Philosophy, which is the best end of them all. - As to writing, for the present, I will neither advise nor dissuade you. If you have any heartfelt interest in any literary matter, any idea that gives you no rest 1 829 TO MR. HENRY INGLIS 145 till it be uttered, commit it to paper, and if circumstances favour, to the Press, the sooner the better. Only if you have no such interest, no such idea, do not in any wise regard it as a misfortune (most probably it is a blessing, for the sweetest fruit is longest in ripening) but simply as a sign, that your vocation as yet is not to impart, but to acquire. Meanwhile tell me always what you project and accomplish in the way of study and reading ; and for your own private use, keep plentiful Notebooks, on which let your pen be often occupied. I must terminate my Lecture ; for the space is nigh exhausted. I write these things out of various motives, some of which you will not disapprove of. — With regard to ourselves here in this wilderness, much were to be said, did my paper allow. Craigenputtock is a stirring place at this moment ; carpenters, gardeners, and all manner of ditchers and dikers are beating and braying the Chaos, to see whether Order will arise from it. Next time you come (and it must be soon) we hope your vehicle will run more sweetly towards the door. We are also ambitious of shelter in coming years, and thousands of trees are planting about us. To say nothing of seed- time, and my poor Larry turned out to harrow, and carting meal from the mill ! The " Leddie " continues in the most benignant mood towards you. Indeed she has three times this day told me that I should write to " Harry," which I of my own accord L 146 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1829 had privately purposed to do. She admits at the same time that it is her own duty ; but she is "so hurried." — The horse "Harry" or " Hendrie," as old Wull the herd calls him, proves to be a quadruped of respectability, and "has a fine motion under ane." We were very much obliged by your news- paper about the Edinburgh Catholic meeting. Be sure to send us such a thing, whenever you have an opportunity ; the oldest Scotch news- paper is new to us, for except by accident we see nothing save one Examiner weekly. Here, too, we are all tearing one another to pieces about that everlasting " Catholic question." ^Petitions in all churches and parishes — which men, women and children are called upon to sign. Ruling- elders go through the country with them, and call upon "the heads of families." I believe one poor Dissenting-min- ister in Minnyive and myself and an old Atheist down in this parish are the only three of the whole district that would not put pen to paper. And did you hear how poor M'Diarmid ^ rushed in like a Pianta leone, with fifty chosen men at his back, to the very heart of an anti-Catholic meeting at Dumfries, and was received with curses, almost with cudgel - strokes ? Thirty Couriers were thrown up in one day. Had I known in time I would almost have gone down to help him myself. Poor little fellow, it was the most gallant thing he ever did in his life. And thirty Couriers — thirty at one fell swoop ! 1 Editor of The Dumfries Courier. ■I 829 TO DR. CARLYLE 147 On the whole, it is ,to be hoped that a merciful Providence will in some weeks put an end to this unprofitable, infinite gibble-gabble, and the Catholic question be settled in 1829, as all men have seen that it ought to be settled since the last four generations. Locke's book was written, I think, about 1690: "Mais il y a de gens auxquels il fmit trois cent ans pour com- mencer voir une absurdity." Write soon, and at-great length. I have two p,apers in the Foreign Review, neither of which, I , fear, will . be readable, for the haste was great, and no proof-sheets are come. Be so good as throw that note into the post-office ; it is about the sending down of some magazines. Have you ever seen De Quincey ? He had been at his opium when you called, and indeed is rarely visible in these cases. — Believe me, always affectionately yours, Thomas Carlyle. XLIV.i — To Dr. Carlyle, Scotsbrig. Craigenputtock, Tuesday night [August (?) 1829]. My dear Jack — Jane has wrapped up your parcel of Books ; and I employ these few instants to scribble you a line. Let me hope you arrived safe that night by the " nearer road," and are now busy with your Animal Magnetism. . . . Obey your first impulse to come back. We shall always rejoice to see that gawsie countenance ; and I promise not to plague you any more about "setting up "; but 148 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1829 leave you to set up or sit down, when and where you find most advisable. These infatuated Blacks have not paid me a stiver yet : but I have written to dun them this night, and on the whole, shall make bold to draw on them for that twenty pounds, and give it you, at any hour you like. So pray under- stand this, and let us have no more summer- ing and wintering of the matter. We were at Dumfries on Saturday, and saw the Jeffreys : they arrived about seven at night ; and the new Dean ^ and I sat talking of high and low matters till near two in the morning. The Dean of Faculty seems slowly coming over to " Mysticism," were he not long ago a vollendeter Stump/erf He told me I was "paradoxical," yet "right in the main " ; and " could preach very well, if they would let me make my own religion." At nine next morning, we breakfasted (all bug-bitten, and short of sleep) ; and the good kind Deankin mii Weib und Kind rolled off" towards Annan, and Wales, and London, and Heaven knows whither, amid, not the storms and the tempests of Night, but the dags"^ and the drizzles of Day. Shortly afterwards, it began to rain heartily, even violently ; and we could not set out on our return, till almost six at night. The afternoon, after morning sermon, we spent with Mrs. Richardson ;^ among «// manner of Elgin 1 Jeffrey had lately been made Dean of the Faculty of Advocates, an ofiSce of distinction at the Scotch bar. ^ Mists. 8 Mentioned in Reminiscences, ii. 247. iS29 TO MR. HENRY INGLIS 149 Magazines, and L.E.L.'s Poems, and Dundee Couriers, and Literary Gazettes, and Poetaster- ism and Kleinstddterei of every colour and degree. She is really a good worthy woman ; well bred and well intentioned ; but dwells in a habitation as of Bristol card, not of brick and mortar. . . . Since then I have been chiefly sleeping, and trying at waking intervals to make ready for writing at great length on Jean Paul. I must finish him before I stir. 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. Much as we talked, not one word was said about Macvey Napier,' or writing €vCs\e.x Luther or "Articles"! Nay 1 believe the Signs of the Times will not be sent me, but I must borrow it ; nor do I know when the work is to be out ; but only that it is printing. . . . XLV.— To Mr. HENRY Inglis, Edinburgh. Craigenputtock, 21st December 1829. My dear Sir — I have only time, at this moment, to thank you for your kind pleasant letter ; and to say that we shall be truly happy if you can find your way hither in the holidays. There is still time if you use expedition. Cigars are in plenty ; talk enough there is and to spare ; and the warmest welcome can at no time be wanting. Come then, if you dare. 1 Who had succeeded Jeffrey as Editor of the Edinburgh Review. ISO LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1829 The " Leddy " heartily unites with me in this wish to see you. At all events, she will have another letter from you directly ; being of opinion that no letter comes hither, with so much entertainment in it, as one of yours has. There is praise for you ! Nay, she still calls her pony by the name of Harry, and few horses like him exist under the solar road. Tongue cannot tell, much less can pen write down, how busy I am this night. Be content with this line then ; and see you make the right use of it. — I remain always, affectionately yours, Thomas Carlyle. XLVI. — To his Mother, Scotsbrig. Craigenputtock, Friday night [December 1829]. My dear Mother — This is a Cloak which Mrs. Welsh sends you from Templand, with best wishes that it may defend you against tempests : we forward it to-morrow morning, as Elliott ^ is going down then (with one of these everlasting grates — I do hope the last of them); and we may not have such an opportunity on Wednesday. The Cloak is not hemmed at the bottom, as the Lady Bountiful did not know your height. When we get the Gig she is com- ing down to see you and Annandale. " Little Jane " did not come last Wednesday; but only a Note instead of her : we thought the weather too stormy. You must thoW^ her a 1 Man-servant recently hired. 2 Thole, do without, wait for. 1829 TO HIS MOTHER 151 little. She leads a very quiet life here ; weav- ing comforters, sewing shifts, and wishing or speaking evil to no one. She was clear for being off, on Wednesday morning, with Alick, after all : but as the day proved, we rejoiced she had not gone. Next Wednesday, she will try it again, if the storm be not too bad. I hope my Father is getting better ; though this is no weather for colds. Try to keep him within doors as much as possible. Take you care of yourself also ; till the sun begin to stretch again. Will no one come hither to bring us word of you soon ? Or cannot Jamie or Mag send us a Letter ? For myself, I am better in health than I was : but there are no Books come from London ; so I cannot get my German History '^ begun ; and am well-nigh idle, except for the reading of insignificant Books. I have been expecting them these three weeks. The rest are all on foot ; jogging along at their old vocations. Alick clinks away in his smithy, making natural music (and many odd iron implements) under cloud of night. He and I have repaired the Skylight with our own hands, and absolutely cured the Kitchen vent of reek ! Mary was off to- day, seeking a dressmaker to measure her 1 A History of German Literature, on which Carlyle was busy during this year. A large part of it was completed, but the arrangement for its publication fell through, and it was never printed as a whole. — See Correspondence between Goethe and Carlyle, 159, 207-209, et al. IS2 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1830 for a frock ; and arrived safely at dusk from "the Glen." Tell Jamie that I will send him money to pay all manner of Cartwrights very soon, that my credit may not evaporate in Annandale. I hope to have no more stables to build ; and so not to be [so] poor another year. . . . Good -night, my dear Mother ; may all blessings be with you and the rest ! — Ever your affectionate Son, Thomas Carlyle. XLVII. — To Dr. Carlyle, Birmingham. Craigenputtock, t^ih January 1830. My dear Jack — Here is one of your old large Miinchen sheets, on which I am about scribbling you a long Letter ; there seems to be but one of the sort remaining, so in future you must be contented with less. Your welcome tidings, which we had greatly longed for, found us in our usual state of health : the Letter had been too late for that Wednesday's post ; the Newspaper was in right time. It amused us all not a little ; none of us had ever chanced to read one " Life in London "^ before ; and truly such a concern may boast itself unparalleled in this Earth ; one more of the many oddities that characterise this dear little Island of ours from all other Lands. I rather rejoice in it, as a broad, fearless, unhesitating manifestation of the rohe Naturmensch, mostly extinct elsewhere ; in which " natural man," brutish though he be 1 BelPs Life in London^ a " sporting " newspaper. 1830 TO DR. CARLYLE 153 very often, there is at least no obtruncation, or castration, or other artificial defect of part ; but all is there that Nature gave him, in esse, or \xv posse ; and nothing that is true and worthy has yet become desperate in him. — By the way, the moment you are settled, you must look out for some London Paper, and have it sent to us : Fraser is very irregular, so that there is no certainty in him, and one loses all the satisfaction of the thing. That Spectator will do, if you can get no better ; but for our- selves we prefer the Examiner, if the time will answer.^ We saw two Numbers of the Stand- ard, and liked it nowise exceedingly. . . . We were all very sad to see you shoot off that night from your old natural nest ; and for some hypochondriacal days, one could not help feeling as if one had lost a Brother. To me, it was more loss perhaps than to any other ; for plain reasons. However, that is not the natural view of it : Jack and I have not lost each other, and will never do so foolish a thing in this world, or the next either if we can help it : the instant I hear of your being settled, I shall rather think I have found you. For you especially, the world is all an " unopened oyster " : neither have I done yet, sad sprawling as I have had : but there is somewhat lies in me, and before me ; and so we shall hope to live yet, and see good in the land of the living. ' Courage, Brother ! Be honest, and times will mend.' 1 For getting it brought to Craigenputtock from Dumfries on Wednesday (market-day) by the Carrier. 154 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1830 We have heard nothing from Scotsbrig, and only infer from their silence that nothing special has happened. I have written twice to our Mother ; once with a brave gray cloak that Mrs. Welsh sent her, for new-year's gift. She was very anxious about you, as is her wont ; you must not fail to send her word. Our Father also was rather disconsolate that night you went off: I found him sitting with outspread palms, by the kitchen-fire, when I returned, and whimpering something about " being the means of bringing so many creatures of the human kind into the world, and how none of them had ever done anything that was wrong before man." He is not at all well, I think ; and more in mind than in body : he has not yet learned to be old, and the time is now come when that must be learned ; he has failed very much within the last three years. But Summer will come, and bring him spirits again. You remember James Bell^ of Townfoot's coming into Parries' that night to take leave of you with the rest. He is dead and buried, above a fortnight ago ! We heard only the meagrest account ; that he " had died in a moment" ; I suppose, by apoplexy, or epilepsy; for he had before experienced shocks of that kind. Poor James Bell ! But our tragedies are not done yet. Rob Clerk of Craigenvey, 1 Old Mrs. Carlyle had, as a girl, gone from Hazliebrae, near Lochmaben, to live with her aunt Mrs. Bell (died 1800), at Townfoot, Ecclefechan, who was the mother of this James Bell.— M. C. 1830 TO DR. CARLYLE iS5 our next neighbour here, had been drinking at Minnyive, perhaps that very day you were departing : he tumbled off his chair, with a groan, gave " a snort or two " on the floor, and was by his companions reckoned to be dead- drunk. At their convenient leisure, they hoisted him, and. his Boy, also drunk, into the cart, which "Johnnie M 'Caw's Lassie" (happily sober) drove home under cloud of night to his Aunt : Rob " spoke none, moved none " ; and his Aunt carried him in on her back, and laid him on the bed, and after hours of sedulous ministering, discovered him to be dead ! Rob was once a man that could have " turned mar- kets" with his own purse, and he would not "taste " in those days. But he failed in trade, twice ; since then has led a strange " wet and dry " existence ; drunk in all corners of Britain from Sussex to Sutherland ; and so has found his end at length. Is it not a wild world this ? Who made it ? Who governs it ? Who gets good of it ? Without Faith, I think a man mere forced to be an Atheist.^ But we ourselves have our sorrows here at present. I said your Letter found us all In health ; but this does not leave us so. Poor Jane had killed one of her geese, and the whole establishment was to dine here gemiithlichst, on New - year's day ; but alas on Mon- day gone a week she took a violent sore- throat, and is at this moment close confined to 1 The greater part of this paragraph is in Froude's Life, ii. 68. 156 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1830 bed. For two days we were really alarmed about her ; Elliott sat booted and spurred, in readiness to ride for a Doctor, to Dumfries : however, at length we only sent him for soda- powders, and other little medicines, and Mrs. Welsh was both Nurse and Doctor. I myself have now taken up these characters ; Mrs. Welsh having gone off (by constraint) to-day ; and I write here in momentary expectation of a little knock, which summons me up to some duty. (The knock has actually come, and I am here again !) However, she is now very consider- ably better, and I hope in a few days to see her well.^ The rest of us are in our usual way ; better rather than worse. We are much more comfortable since we got Elliott ; and I have zealously begun riding every day. Alick and I mended the skylight with our own hands, and have altogether cured the kitchen - smoke. Elliott is paving the backyard ; brings us roar- ing fires of coals ; and is to go down with this Letter to-night, among his other services. Lord make us thankful ; for we have much to be thankful for. — "Little Jean" came up with us from Scotsbrig, staid here in still cheerfulness, and could not get away for snow till last Thursday. I sent down your Letter, and word of the Newspaper, and that probably you were" eating Christmas dinners, and as merry as any of us. We expect a Letter perhaps to-morrow, 1 Carlyle says in a letter to his brother John, 1 1 th February, " We are all in the usual state : Jane recovered, and now knitting patiently beside me at a bright fire." 1830 TO DR. CARLYLE 157 perhaps next week. — Good be with you ! my dear Jack. — I [am always] your Brother, T. Carlyle. I just last night got a package of those German History Books ; a huge package for which I?have waited four weeks, and now it is scarcely of any value to me ! . . . XLVIII. — To Dr. Carlyle, London. Craigenputtock, \<)th March 1830. My dear Jack — . . . Jane and I were at Scotsbrig for about a week, and returned only on Tuesday night, through tempests of sleet, and in spite of ill-shod fillies ; to find your Letters among various others, and a square parcel which happily proved to he Jordens,^ lying wait- ing to welcome us. The good people at Scotsbrig seemed all wonderfully well and happy, and on the whole exhibited a much more comfortable style of housekeeping than I expected there. On the whole I think their way of life one of the most desirable which a man could choose for him- self in this condition of things. Our Father, who has been sickly and dispirited most of the winter, has now recovered himself; walks out to see his dikers, and so forth, and is very ■ bright and speculative. Our Mother we expect here shortly, when Alick goes down for seed- corn, which perhaps he will do to-morrow. She too seemed moderately well, but full of ' Lexikon deutscher Dichter und Prosaisten (6 vol. 8vo), useful for Carlyle's present task, the History of German Literature. 158 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1830 anxieties about you. Speak to her on that subject when one Hked, she had always "just been think- ing of it." She wishes much that you would write to her oftener, as I assured her you would not fail to do, were you once settled. She sees all the Letters that come hither, and in general with little delay ; but that is far from sufficing her. An old Newspaper from time to time with a " ganz wokl," would be quite a treat at Scots- brig. The girls said they had constructed you a Letter, brimful of news, and thought it should count against three from you. . . . The Clows, at Jane's request, came and drank tea with us ; Miss Clow^ much admired for her " fine figure " ; and next day, having been already detained by foul weather, we rode forth in spite of all representations ; passed through Ecclefechan, and over Dalton Bank, in suc- cessive whirlwinds of snow ; and at night found ourselves sitting not among the broad faces at Scotsbrig, but here in the wilderness alone by our own hearth. Nothing new had occurred in our absence : all were well and busy, Alick with his ploughing, Elliott with his road-cleaning and hedge-cropping ; Mary and her womankind with their washing and wringing within doors. We had been at Templand, as we went down to Scotsbrig, when the weather was very gay : Mrs. Welsh was pretty well ; and her Father too, though with strength of body he had recovered strength of volition, and was a very emphatic and unrestful old man. Mrs. Welsh 1 She became Mrs. Alick Carlyle. 1830 TO DR. CARLYLE 159 is much to be pitied with him ; but she bears it all in a light, patient spirit, such as might reprove many a professed philosopher. . . . A Mr. Gleig, well known in London, I believe, wrote to me the other day out of Kent about a Life of Goethe for some new sort of Family Library. I rather doubt nothing will come of the negotiation ; yet I wish much I had heard of it six months ago. For the rest, this has been the shabbiest winter with me that I can remember : waiting for Books, beginning again and again with fierce energy, and again and again obliged to make a dead halt. These other London volumes (sent by a private hand) for which a much more important Parcel in Edinburgh must be waiting, have never come to hand. For little, I would kick my foot through the whole concern even at this hour. But no ! no ! Neither is the good Fraser ^ to blame ; only my own evil stars. Pray will you try to ascertain from him when he would like to have that History ? I had fixed on May, but hear no answer, See no symptom of pre- paration. I have to write to Weimar to-day : adieu ! . . . God bless you, my dear Brother ! T. Carlyle. XLIX. — To Dr. Carlyle, London. Craigenputtock, \oth April 1830. My dear Jack — I must write you a few hurried lines, though I am far, far back with 1 Mr. James Fraser {pi Eraser's Magazine), not Mr. William Fraser (of the Foreign, Quarterly). i6o LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1830 my day's work, lest you get too anxious. We are very glad to learn that you have come to a fixed resolution, and what is better, begun to put it in execution. For the thousandth time, I repeat that I think there is no fear of you, so [you] will but set your shoulder stoutly to the wheel. Write your Papers then, the best you are able ; think with yourself, take counsel with your kind Friends ; and dread no evil issue. A time of toil, of obscurity and dissatisfaction you must look for : but " a free field for you and no favour," say I ; and the day will not go against you. Keep a kenk and a spingit,^ as Joe Elliott was wont to advise : the world is wide, and our Doil will make himself a place there. The very thought that he is attempting. such a thing will be as oil to his head. Once on his own legs, I hardly know the' man I would not pit him against. Now tell us how you get on with your Translations and Speculations ; and what face the world wears towards you. . . . God bless thee. Jack ; and keep thfee always, in poverty or wealth, my true Brother ! I must now narrate this and the other ; how we are all "getting on" here. God be thanked we are all afoot still ; no sick body or broken heart among us. Our Mother is still here ; your Letter reached her about a week ago. She is waiting chiefly, I believe, till Alick return from the House in the Moor Fair, whither he is gone this morning to 1 Heart and a spirit, so pronounced by J. E. — M. C. 1830 TO DR. CARLYLE 161 sell his sheep ; having gone in vain the fore- going week, so bad was the Sale ; and returned, on Larry, for the intervening days, to get along with his sowing. He cannot account himself a prosperous Farmer at present, as what Farmer is ? — and knows not whether he will keep this place another year : however, there are no bones broken, and we will decide the best we can when the time comes. Our Mother is very tolerably well ; so, we hear, are the Scotsbrig people. It is growing spring, the larches will all be green one of these days, the Birds seem already wedded, and Men are getting their crops in as they can. My Weibchen has the " Factor," as Alick calls him,^ daily delving in the Garden, at the slowest of rates, yet happily he is near done now. He leaves us at Whitsunday, rather to our regret, and now, I believe, greatly to his own ; he has made a very considerable improve- ment in the look of things here, and has no fault but his vanity, which is considerable. We get "Canny" Bretton, once herdsboy at Mainhill, in his stead, and flatter ourselves it is fair exchange. I myself am writing daily at .that History, not without spirit ; and in spite of booksellers, carriers, nature and my stars. Tell Fraser I shall surely have the first volume ready for Press, early in May; and wish much to get forward fast with the printing of it. Those Books he sent by a " private hand " seem never to have been delivered : they had not reached 1 The servant Elliott. M i62 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1830 Edinburgh ten days ago, but perhaps will come to-morrow. I can do without them ; I will do without everything and all things ; I have sworn it. Will you tell Mrs. Strachey that I got a Book from Mr. Greaves with a highly flattering Note, for which I beg that she would heartily thank him in my name. Gleig's project of Goethes Life seems to be dropt, and he wants greatly to know when I could let him have my Life of Luther. Nimmer und niemals! I rather believe. When I write that Book of the great German Lion, it shall be the best Book I have ever written, and go forth, I think, on its own legs. Do you know, we are actually talking of spending the next winter in Weimar ; and preparing all the raw material of right Luther, there at the fountain- head. That, of course, if I can get this History done, and have the cash. . . . You must remember me to Mrs. Strachey, and may if you like go often to see her. I reckon her one of the deepest-hearted and on the whole, best women I have ever known. But tell not this in Bedford Square ! — Also forget not again to speak of the Kitty that was. — Make my compliments to Allan Cunningham : have you ever seen William Gray ? My friendliest regards to Edward Irving, and yotir worthy Hostess (who should have stood y?r.y/), not forgetting the young Doctor.^ All here greet you heartily. — Ever your affectionate, T. Carlyle. 1 Irving's brother George, who soon afterwards died. i83o TO DR. CARLYLE 163 Our Mother is sitting with Jane in the Parlour (after tea), I must carry them this (from the Library) to read. . . . L. — To Dr. Carlyle, London. Craigenputtock, 1st May 1830. My dear Brother Jack — . . . Much it delights me, my dear Jack, to figure you now as in the way of clear well-doing ; and that I can write to you without any little grudge or reserva- tion, as to my worthy and well-beloved Brother, struggling forward beside me in the battle of Life ; to whom I can give an "Euge ! " and word of encouragement if nothing more. Do not work too hard, for there is a measure in all things; do not encounter those "dull headaches" lest they lead to something worse. Neither take too deep thought for the morrow : I care not, why should you care, Aow you prosper out- wardly, so your heart and bearing be that of a true man ; let the world take its own sway : " meat, clothes and fire " are all that Rothschild or Guelf himself can wring out of it. There is no Act of Parliament in Heaven's Chancery that you or I are to be rich men or famous men ; only the sternest and solemnest enactment that we are to be good men, " diligent in business and fervent in spirit " — reverencing the inscrutable God, and " friendly at once and fearless towards all that God has made." . . . There is nothing but favourable, at least indifferent tidings to send you hence ; inasmuch i64 LEl'TERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1830 as we are all alive and stirring, the most of us very busy. Alick got your Letter, and will write (he tells me this evening) when the first Parcel goes. He is very busy afield ; has got his rent not paid, yet settled for this term, and signified officially that if times do not greatly mend, he must remove next Whitsunday ; so that one bad business is for the time put by. Elliott is mowing greens (or rather the green) and laying out a new one most beautiful to' look on, where the Peatstack stood ; and gravelling Garden walks ; and working miracles in all directions. Jane goes out about him, and sees the " Defence of Order " practically manifested : for the rest, she sits beside me here where I write, and reads or sews, and never utters mum. I myself am toiling, as I have said, with im- petuosity ; writing from three to four pages ^ daily (when it is easy, alas ! many a day I have hammered my brains from morning to night, and written nothing) : the first volume is to be done in a fortnight. I am now in the heart of the Nibelungen Lied, which I like much. The Book will be worth next to nothing, yet readable enough, and will do no mischief. I long and pray only that it were off my hands : for com- pilation, and this is or can be little more, in the present state of things, pleaseth me little. These fine days often bring me in mind of last Spring and you. Nay I have now mounted your hair cap,^ and ride with it (or rather mean 1 Carlyle's pages were very closely written. 2 A fur cap from Germany. 1830 TO HIS MOTHER 165 to do so) when wind is up. I have been out three or four mornings lately in that way ; for I get off sleep, and grow billus when scribbling. But as for the Cap, I will prize it above all caps, and think when it hangs on the cloakpin that I hear the voice of poor Doil, saying Brother remember me ! Yes, my brave Doil, I will remember thee, and thy true heart, so long as memory lives within me. — But let us avoid the pathetic. — Here is supper come ! . . . LI. — To his Mother, Scotsbrig. Craigenputtock, Tuesday night \August 1830]. . . . We are all well here, and longing very much to hear from Scotsbrig. We hoped for some word about my Father, and your general state, last week : perhaps to-morrow we shall be more fortunate. What to think about my Father's state of health we know not rightly, but still trust the best. From Jack I have got no more word"; but expect to hear to-morrow that he is settled in his own lodgings, and begun practice, which, were it not that necessity compels him, he seems so loth to do. Neither have I heard anything definite about the disposal of my German His- tory: I have now some thoughts of stopping in it soon after where I am, and perhaps for the present cutting it up into Review Articles, and publishing it first in that way. It will be the readiest method of sale ; and I wish much that I were done with it, one way or other ; for i66 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1830 the task never pleased me. I could write, and will write, something infinitely better, ere long. The Jeffreys are all coming hither in the end of the month ; but I will try to take a run into Annandale before that time. Our peats we have not yet begun to bring home, so the large horse will be busy ; but Harry is always forthcoming. I forget whether I mentioned last week that we had a parcel from Goethe, with pictures of his House, etc. ; and a still stranger parcel from Paris, addressed to the Author of the Signs of the Times. The people there seem to think me a very promising man, and that some good will come of me. Thus, a prophet is not without honour, save in his own country. Poor prophet ! However, in my present solitude, I am very glad of these small encouragements. . . . LI I. — To Dr. Carlyle, London. Craigenputtock, 6th August 1830. My dear Jack — ... I have, at your sug- gestion, sent that miserable dud of " Cruthers and Johnson "^ to Fraser, with two other Papers: certain abstruse " Thoughts on History," and a small scantling of my Fables and Rhymes (or rather one Rhyme "What is Hope"^): you are to correct the Proofs, if there be any printing : " Cruthers and Johnson " is to be 1 In Fraser, Jan. 1 83 1. Carlyle remarks to Emerson (Corre- spondence, i. 230), " It is the first thing I wrote, or among the very first." 2 See Miscellanies, i. 391. 1830 TO DR. CARLYLE 167 forthwith returned to you, if found unsuitable ; and the name in any case kept strictly secret. Lastly, I have told the man to deliver you the Payment (if any) for that Jean-PauVsche Recension ;^ and if possible to let you have your Letter on Monday before Post time. — This is all that I have done, and you can forward it if you have any opportunity. If not, prithee, • kind Doctor, do not value it one pin's point : I can do whether they print my trash in their Magazine or not, and what[ever] they and all men may think of it there or elsewhere. — Of course I mean Magazine Eraser! — Get my Schiller from the other,^ and I have done with him. Having a little scrap of room here, I will put down a word or two of news for you. We have got a Gig here (bought, not paid, at £10 be- tween Alick and me) ; a fine stout, substantial, old-fashioned, bottle-green vehicle, as ugly, as light and as sure, as Philosopher could desire it. The large beast Madge went in it marvellously ; so does Larry for Alick and Mary, who keep no other riding -horse : Jane goes down in it to- morrow to Dumfries with Bretton. This is a kind of innovation for us. Secondly, the Jeffreys are coming hither in the end of August. . . . 1 Jean Paul Friedrich Richter again (in the Foreign Review No. 9, Miscellanies, iii. i). 2 The Article Schiller (in Fraser No. 14, Miscellanies, iii. 87) which had been sent to Mr. Wilham Fraser of the Foreign Review. i68 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1830 Thirdly, we have had three Letters from Goethe/ the first and most important of which I send you a copy of, made many months ago for you ; the contents of which will not fail to surprise you. That Craigenputtock should be engraved in Weimar! The next Letter, how- ever, told us that the Publication of Schiller had been put off for some time, that the geschmiickte Exemplar would not come with the First Box but soon afterwards, with the Lieferungen of his Werke. That promised First Box came actually ; contained strange things, Goethe's Farbenlehre, the remaining Proofs of Schiller, two Pictures of Goethe's Houses, the Garienhaus and Haus in Weimar. This was a fortnight ago. So that THE Exemplar is soon to be looked for, with the indiscreet preface, the views of Craigenputtock, and of Schiller's Wohnung in Weimar, and of his little Gartenhaus in Jena, for they are all to be there. Why, this is voonders upon voonders ! Lastly, there came that same night, a Parcel of Books from Paris {how, except that they were last at Edinburgh, I cannot guess) and a Letter addressed to the writer of the Caractere de notre Epoque (Signs of the Times) dans la Rdvue d'Edinbourg, from the strangest of all Societies, the Society St.-Simonienne (or Disciples of- St.-Simon), who are founding a New Religion there at present. . . . We are very poor, as I said, at present ; but that is all, and we will get over that. Fear 1 See Correspondence between Goethe and Carlyle, letters from Goethe, of 13th April and 6th June 1830. i83o TO HIS MOTHER 169 nothing : we mean nothing but honest things, and must and will prosper in them, seeing the very effort is success. ... I will now go and seek you three Rose-leaves that grew in Cra:igenputtock (for we have plenty this year), which will" be quite withered before they reach you, but nevertheless have some perfume left. We are very braw about the doors ; have large trees transplanted outside the Garden-dike, walks gravelled, etc. etc. . . . Again, dear Jack, adieu ! — Your true Brother, T. C. LIII. — To his Mother, Scotsbrig. Craigenputtock, Tuesday \7.%th September 1830]. My dear Mother — . . . You would learn from Jamie not only that Jean and I arrived safe behind Larry ; but further, that the other Jeannie'^ and I were down at Dumfries by the same conveyance. . . . That night, after looking at all the huge Bul- locks and strange human creatures assembled in Dumfries, Jane and I were mounted and on the way home some time before eight o'clock : nevertheless, as has been said, " you know where you begin the ride, not where you end it;" accordingly we had not got the length of Ichabod's, where our Dunscore Road turns off the great Mail Road, when I half jesting pro- posed that we should rather drive to Temp- land, the way being shorter, and smoother for 1 Mrs. Carlyle. I70 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1830 a drive in the dark, and my helpmate having ' agreed to be there, at any rate, before the end of the week. Assent was readily given (three several times) to this proposal : so away we went for Templand ; where Larry, in the most handsome manner, landed us quite comfortably about ten o'clock. Mrs. Welsh, after her first terror, was overjoyed to all lengths ; made us porridge "with her own hands," dipt my hair next day, and having asked some person to dine with us, would not without a quarrel let us go that day, or till after breakfast on the following. Her Father is very frail ; otherwise things seem much in their old state. I do not think she has yet stirred at all in the Craigen- puttock business : neither, as it appears to me, has she the smallest wish to part with Alick, it he could make her any reasonable proposal. However, she is a person I cannot speak with in regard to such affairs. Alick, I think, ought to make up his own mind, as soon as he can, and say, or at least guess, what is in his power, and what not. You would hear that the Jeffreys had come and gone : they arrived that very Monday night, and I found them all sitting in state, when I got here. Jeffrey was more than usually friendly and interesting ; he left us, and we were left, with real regret. Jane found your butter and eggs of essential service ; and on the whole gives many thanks both to Providence (who watches the fall of sparrows) and to fellow -men. Bretton waited like the 1830 TO HIS MOTHER' 171 Steward of some Royal Hotel (the slut is really admirable at waiting) ; the Cook cooked to a very hair's-breadth. : so that Jane says gratefully, "she was borne through with an honourable through-bearing."! I rather think, Jeffrey will come himself next year (if we are all well), and leave his women ; which will be a much more commodious method. — He insisted on taking my unfortunate Manuscript (of German Literary History) with him to Edinburgh, that he might read it, and see whether he could not find a Publisher for it : I expect to hear some tidings about this very soon ; but hardly that he will be successful ; indeed, now that I have made up my mind, I care next to nothing whether or not. He has . already written to Jack (whom he seemed to like well) about one Hazlitt, an unfortunate literary man, whom Jack seemed to be attending as Doctor ; to whom Jeffrey was sending money, but who, as I see by a mark in the last Examiner, is now dead ; so that the charitable aid would come too late. — The worthy Dean of Faculty (for that is our Duke's title) inquired about you all, very kindly, not of me, but of Jane : I reckon him one of the best persons, practically considered, that I have ever seen ; also that he is growing " sadder and wiser " as he in- creases in years. ^ ... 1 " Burgher Minister's thanksgiving on a Sacramental occasion." — ^T. C. in Letters and Memorials, i. 328, n. 2 An account of this visit is in the Reminiscences, ii. 248 ; see also Froude's Life, ii. 127. 172 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1830 LIV. — To his Mother, Scotsbrig.^ Craigenputtogk, \oth October 1830. . . . The wife and I are very quiet here, and accustoming ourselves, as fast as we can, to the stillness of winter, which is fast coming on. These are the grayest, most silent days I ever saw : my Besom, as I sweep up the withered leaves, might be heard at a furlong's distance. The woods are getting very party-coloured, the old trees quite bare ; all witnesses that another year has travelled away. What good and evil has it brought us ! May God sanctify them both to every one of us ! I study not to get too wae ; but often I think of many solemn and sad things, which indeed I do not wish to forget. We are all in God's hand ; otherwise this world, which is but wholly a valley of the Shadow of Death, were too frightful. Why should we fear ? Let us hope ; we are in " the Place of Hope," our Life is a Hope. But far better than all reasonings for cheer- fulness is the diligence I use in following my daily Business. For the last three weeks I have been writing by taskwork again, and get along wonderfully well : what it is to be I cannot yet tell, whether a Book or a string of Magazine Articles ; we hope, the former ; but in either case, it may be worth something. I 1 A part of this and of the following Letter, which contain the earliest reference to Sartor Resartus, is in Fronde's Life, ii. 131- 1 830 TO DR. CARLYLE 173 will send you Luther's Hymn which I have translated into verse ; Luther made the Music too, but that I have not^ It is needless to ask you about your health or my father's ; for none will answer me. Let me repeat John's caution to him and you to take double care at this season. God bless you all ! — Ever your affectionate Son, T. Carlyle. Jane and I talk of coming down by and by. Jeffrey has yet written nothing about my German Book, but I . expect to hear soon. Tell my Father that Alick will bring the Gig next time he goes to Scotsbrig, and we must have him up hither : he can wrap himself effectually, so as to take no harm, and we will keep him in hot enough quarters here. To Jamie, Jane, and Jenny our separate kindest love. LV. — To Dr. Carlyle, London. Craigenputtock, itjth October 1830. . . . For myself here I am leading the Stillest life ; musing amid the pale sunshine, or rude winds of October Tirl ^-the-trees, when I go walking in this almost ghastly solitude ; and for the rest, writing with impetuosity. I think it not impossible that I may see you this winter in London ! I mean to come whenever I can spare the money ; that I may look about me again among men for a little. Here too I feel sometimes that I make progress, and get better insight. Keep your thumb on this journey, 1 Strip. 174 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1830 till we see how it turns. What I am writing at is the strangest of all things : begun as an Article for Fraser; then found to be too long (except it were divided into two) ; now some- times looking almost as if it would swell into a Book. A very singular piece, I assure you ! It glances from Heaven to Earth and back again in a strange satirical frenzy, whether yf«e or not remains to be seen. . . . Teufelsdreck (that is the title of my present Schrift) will be done (so far — fifty pages) to- morrow. . . . LVI. — To Dr. Carlyle, London. Craigenputtock, \2th Novemier 1830. My dear Jack — You are justly what may be called a Benefactor to Craigenputtock, and, we would hope, "an ornament to society in every direction : " ^ here is the second time that your punctuality has- helped us out of approach- ing perplexity. The long well-filled sheet ar- rived duly to our great satisfaction in many ways, wherein the little announcement of com- ing Cash, humble as the circumstance was, did nowise escape us. I drove down with Alick on Wednesday (through unspeakable deluges and tempests) to. await that little arrival; and had scarcely seated myself to a comfortable Pipe in Thomson's, when the promised Letter was handed in to me ; containing, if not Twenty, at least Ten current Pounds, part of which were to I See ante, p. 126 n. 1830 TO DR. CARLYLE 17S be useful the very next day. And now you promise us other Ten, or even Twenty (if we like better, which we do) next Wednesday ; .whereby the Genius of Poverty will be quite excluded through the coming months, and can henceforth only growl to no purpose on the out- side of bolted doors. Many thanks, dear Jack, for your punctuality, which, in all cases, especi- ally in these, is an excellent virtue. ... I wrote to William Fraser about his Magazine,^ and that Teufelsdreck paper of mine, which I have now resolved not to make a Book of; but, if I have opportunity, two Articles, and the germ of more. I wished to dive into Eraser's modes and conditions, and see whether any nearer Magazine relation with him was desirable. Were his answer come, I send off this Paper (with Nimmb and other trifles); also your German Briefe (commissioned up from Scotsbrig to-day), and another Book for you of a still more surprising character : no less than the geschmiickte Exemplar of Schiller, which came safely to hand ten days ago. There were two copies ; one, bound in all conceivable superbity, we are to keep ; the other, unbound, the Artist at Dumfries is binding for you (to be here on Monday) in a decent style, with strict directions to put in the Umschlag {p{ Schiller's House and Garden-house) also. The Craig bears a distinct } Probably Eraser's Magazine, of which James Fraser was the proprietor ; but William Fraser (editor of the Eoreign Review), in whose head, Carlyle says in 1832, '■'-Eraser's Magazine took being _/&-j^," still took part in its management. 176 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1830 resemblance ; and there is the most wondrous Preface by dem Alien, with considerable Trans- lations from some Letters of mine, and my Paper on Murns, the version of which Poet he has set agoing at Berlin. All these things, with others, you shall see soon. We have had two Letters from him by Post ; a certain Gesell- schaft fur ausldndische Literatur in Berlin have elected me an Ehrenmitglied ; their clerk seems to be Hitzig : of this also you shall hear. Goethe says : Von der Socidtd St.-Simomenne bitte Sick fern zu halten ! Nevertheless, send me their Books by the very first chance. Jane is making you a Bread-seal, which will come with that same Packet, and stamp your coat-of- arms for you, till you get a better. We are all well, save Mary. . . . Our Father has been with us for a fortnight exactly, and went off with Alick in the Gig this morning. He seems as well as he has been for some years : takes tea twice ^ and is very dietetic, and very cheerful and talkative. — God bless you, dear Brother ! T. Carlyle. LVII. — To Dr. Carlyle, London. Craigenputtock, i()th December 1830. . . . On the whole, here in our moorland Patmos we are not without cause to be grate- ful : this very night, we have fine black frost, a vehement fire is blazing (with peats, logs and 1 His father had hitherto despised the taking of tea as an absurd and effeminate practice. — M. C. 1830 TO DR. CARLYLE 177 large coals) at my left hand (for it is in the Drawing-room that we abide for these few days), and on the opposite side thereof sits my wife sewing ; I owe no man almost anything, and have the prospect of being allowed to live unmolested in God's Earth a little longer, there to till and sow according to ability that richest of all fields Future Time : Mein Acker ist die Zeit\ " What wanteth man that I have not within my own Four Walls ? " ^ To give you a few more particulars. We have only one servant this winter : " Betty," an oldish coughing woman, but seemingly a "chosen one" of her sex, so quiet is she, so orderly, and takes such charge of Master and Missus, of cow, pig and pony. The place is all dry and gravelly, swept and garnished, even to Cobbett's taste, about doors ; windtight, watertight, warm and smokeless within. The "big beast" is labouring for her bread at Templand this winter : but Harry runs in the Gig (which I myself can now trim and harness) like a very lion, and I give him " swine meal," which is his plum-pudding and callipash and callipee, nightly by deputy, and on those great Gig-occasions for two days previously " with my own hand." We were at Templg,nd but on Wednesday last ; and with lamps burning (half- penny tallow candles !) overtook Macknight, scarcely past "the Milton," and snatched our Letters from him. . . . 1 "To Time I'm heir."— Wi/Mm Metster. 2 From verses by Carlyle, for which see Froude's Life, i. 324. N 178 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1830 I see your Article advertised in last Eraser, but nothing of mine, so that I am still far in your debt. They may print up what they have got, before I send more. . . . Hang them ! I have a Book in me that will cause ears to tingle ; and one day out it must and will issue. Jack too has another talent, other talents : in the valley of the shadow of Magazine Editors we shall not always linger. Courage ! Not Hope, for she was always a liar, but Courage ! Courage ! — For myself I am to write Napier ^ a shortish Paper on Taylor's Survey of German Poetry, which work I expect on Wednesday : this will occupy [me] for three weeks complete. I have translated Saint-Simon's Nouveau Chris- tianisme, a heterodox Pamphlet (about forty Review pages), which I mean soon to sendj/^?^. I have prefixed a very short introduction ; and you may try whether any pamphlet-printing Bookseller (some Socinian or Anti-Church, or quite indifferent character) will give you the matter of five pounds for the copyright thereof, or will give you nothing whatever, which also will be a decision. It contains several strange ideas, not without a large spice of truth ; is ill- written, but easily read, and deserves a reading. Tell me whether you think it will be worth risking six shillings on, and in the affirmative, off ! — Alas ! the Paper too is done, and we were not half /ertig-/ Gott Ttiit Dir ! T. Carlyle. 1 See ante, p. 1 49. The Article on Taylor's book is to be found in Carlyle's Miscellanies, iii. 283. 1 83 1 TO DR. CARLYLE 179 LVIII — To Dr. Carlyle, London. , Craigenputtock, 2ist January 1831. My dear Brother — Last Wednesday came your Books, all safe ; no Parcel of Montagu's ; and what we grudged very much no scratch of a pen from yourself. . . . You are there in the focus of British activity at a great era in the world's history, at a great era in your own ; I am here in the dead silence of peat-moss, yet warmly interested in all that pertains to both these eras ; and you take the trouble to tell me very little. Some half- hundred things you might throw great light on for me ; indeed scarcely anything you could write would not instruct me : nevertheless you will not so much as fill your paper, no matter with what. Depend upon it, dear Jack, all this is not right. But what remedy have we ? A man's Letters are his Letters ; you must accept them as such, or cease to correspond with him, and then you get justice ! Therefore I will say no more on this point. But one thing more especially grieves me, my dear Brother : that in these hasty scrawls of Letters, I trace some perturbation of mind diligently hidden from me. O this, be sure, is noi right. Speak of your cares, man, to a heart that loves you : they will grow lighter by your very speaking of them ; order arises out of speech, especially out of writ- ing. Attempt to explain what you do know, and you already know something more. But with this too I have done. As was said, your i8o LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 Letters are your Letters ; and I, or any man, have no right to complain of them, but only to take thankfully what you give. I have been busy for three weeks, have finished Taylor, and send it off to-morrow : it cannot appear till the Number following the first. Taylor is a clever old Philister, and I have salted him according to ability ; there is also something about Welt-Literatur : on the whole, a baddish Article, not without some particles of worth, and may help a little to guide our German studies from some aber- ration. In writing to Napier, I mentioned the possibility of his receiving a Paper from you : he was to try it, and accept or reject quite freely, according to his judgment. I hope and trust, it will do. There is no Periodical so steady as the Edinburgh Review ; the salary fair, the vehicle respectable. Whether Diet may be a quite popular subject I do not know ; but I calculate with some confidence that you will make a reasonable story out of it. Are you apprised that some three years ago, there was an Article on that subject ? — the poorest of Articles ; which Jeffrey too interwove with a constant running thread of contradiction, almost every alternate paragraph was his, and the whole looked laughable enough. I fancy these artists will hardly have trenched on your ground : nevertheless look at their work. I cannot direct you to the Number more nearly than so : that it was the one published immediately before our leaving Edinburgh, perhaps, therefore, that 1831 TO DR. CARLYLE i8r of March or April 1828. You should try to be new, and above all to give new fads. Are there any Dietetic habits peculiar on the Con- tinent ; any public Regulations or approaches to such anywhere ? Some notices of these or the like would be very interesting. I have surely heard that some Governments do take a certain charge of the People's health, as all should. Public Lectures on Regimen would be next to Public Lectures on Morality. Will you touch on this ? Can you tell us accurately how Boxers and the like are dieted in England ? If so explain it satisfactorily ; for it will be new to many. Will any of your Germans tell you how the old Athletes were trained ? Can you state any curious particulars about the various diets of nations generally ? Say thus much at least: Man can live on all things, from whale-blubber (as in Greenland) to clay-earth (as at the mouth of the Orinoco, see Humboldt). Then you have all the Passions, etc. influenced by eating ; madness itself lying in the stomach : one can go mad at any time one likes, by laying a cupful of alcohol to the walls of that organ. Excuse these shoulderings at the wheel : I have no force to help you, but if I had ! On the whole, dear Jack, do your best; and exceed not twenty pages ; shorter if you can ; brevity for this time will be a great recommendation to you. Looking at what you have done, I should say there was no fear : but ill-luck has so pur- sued one in these matters, one knows not what to think. Nay when you have done your best, i82 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 ' Stand resolutely up, and say to yourself, / have done it, ich kann nicht anders. But by this time, dear Brother, I suppose you are getting wiser as to the true charms of a Life of Literature, and . looking with some earnestness for a deliverance into your Pro- fession. God send it ! But in the meanwhile, Patience ! Perseverance ! unwearied Diligence ! Man has not and cannot have other armour, stand where he may. — [I] read your Demonology and a Paper on St. John Long^ the only thing by you in that almost quite despicable Magazine. Will you tell me, Jack, how you have lived, or where you get money, my poor Boy ? In this Magazine I see scarcely ;^15 worth. Above all, how did you get me £^0, when for all they have yet printed I could scarcely claim the half of that ? Explain, explain, dear Brother, that I may see where both of us are standing. — Certainly that /Eraser's Magazine gives the most scurvy remuneration of any Periodical extant, and shall have no more stuff of mine at that rate, barring worse fortune than I have yet seen. Solid well-thought writing such as yours, for example, will not yield a man existence. " Come out of her, my Brethren, come out of her!" It is also a frothy, washy, punchy, dirty kind of Periodical, I fear : " Come out of her " — and altogether out of that craft, thou that canst. But I have a serious commission for you 1 A quack doctor, then making a fortune in London by his treatment of consumptive cases. 1 83 1 TO DR. CARLYLE 183 u — , (trouble,- as usual) grounded oh these facts. Will yoij go-tp Fraser and get from, him by all means my long "Pajier entitled Thoughts on Clothes: I would not for above half a dozen reasons have it appear there so long as I have potatoes to eat. Get it from him, unless it is absolutely printed : the rest he can keep, they will surely pay him : but of this (in addition to the above reasons) I have taken a notion that I can make rather a good Book, and one, above all, likely to produce some desirable impression on the world even now. Do thou get it, my dear Jack, read it well over thyself, and then say what thou thinkest. I can devise some more biography for Teufelsdreck ; give a second deeper part, in the same vein, leading through Religion and the nature of Society, and Lord knows what. Nay that very " Thoughts," slightly altered, would itself make a little volume first (which would encourage me immensely) could one find any Bookseller, which however I suppose one cannot. Whether it were worth while to show Fraser the Manuscript (for I think he has not read it) and take counsel with him ; or still rather to show Edward Irving it (whose friendliness and feeling of the True, widely as it differs from him, I know), do thou judge. I fear perfect anonymity is now out of the question ; however swear every one to secrecy, for I mean to speak fearlessly if at all. Basta I Basta ! — I have taken up the whole blessed sheet, and not one word of news. We are well ; Alick and his Spouse do bravely, he i84 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 seems fully happier than his wont. They two were at Scotsbrig last week, and brought up favourable reports of all — except our Father, who had heedlessly caught cold, and was " no better hardly" last Wednesday, when Jean wrote us. They had got your letter but did not send it. . . . What is to come [of] Alick, whether to flit or not is still in the womb of Time ; who brings Roses, and also Thistles. Let us be thankful and submissive and love one another. T. Carlyle. The Lord Advocate sends us his first frank ^• they tore his garments at Forfar, and " rubbed " him, that is, hustled. The scandalous dogs : the worthiest public man in all broad Scotland. — O Jack ! Jack ! be steady, be manful : the Devil is busy, but he is not omnipotent. . . . LIX. — To Miss Jane Carlyle, Scotsbrig. Craigenputtock, Tuesday night [January 1831]. My dear Jane — I have just finished a Letter to our Mother ; but must not let the Parcel go without a word for you, to whom indeed some of my chief commissions must be directed. We were very much obliged by your punctual tidings about my Father, concerning whom we are still very anxious, and not without hopes of hearing something to-morrow. Alick saw Pate Easton^ last Wednesday, but could get no nearer 1 Jeffrey had just been elected to Parliament. 2 An Ecclefeclian neighbour. — M. C. 1 83 1 TO MISS JANE CARLYLE 185 tidings. It was very kind of you, my lassie, since there was no other to write, that you took that trouble. I have only to- beg and enjoin you to repeat it regularly and often. Tell us especially how our Father is (there are no remedies for cold but "flannel and physic"), whether our Mother keeps stout, and all that goes on amongst you. The day before yesterday Alick and I saw you (after a sort) ; we went to the top of Darn- garroch hill (the hill that lies over Blackmark Moor), and there, the day being very bright, saw far and wide. New Galloway, Kirkcud- bright, Castle-Douglas : Burnswark was as plain as need be ; and of course Scotsbrig could not be far. You seemed to have more snow than we, for indeed all our hills were black ; how- ever, since then we have had our turn ; yester- day was a deliberate slow persevering day of snow-showers ; and this day has been quite ah adventure that way. A fierce frosty wind is drifting all into heaps ; our kitchen door, which has not been opened, stands sunk half way up in a snow drift unuseable ; all day it has whirled and heaped itself about this (the library) win- dow ; and we have kept up a constantyfr^. . . . To complete the matter, our maid went away on Sabbath to see her friends, and how the foolish creature is to get up again (unless in Alick's bacon carts) I see not. However I have foddered and watered the cattle ; to the very Hens, to so many of them as I could entice down I have given malt (of which i86 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 we had a little pot) : I wheeled fuel and water round in abundance ; Jane has been cooking all day within doors ; and I have smoked and read. The wind still howls and whistles ; but we hope it will abate to-morrow. This surely will be the last storm of the season. We thought Jamie would have come up in the frost, but suppose he cannot get away. Tell him that with regard to the meal there is no hurry : Mrs. Welsh has sent us a sack of very good stuff, so that ten stone more will keep us I know not how long. Tell Jamie, however, to bring us a couple of bushels of good horse -corn instead when he comes. I want a little stock for summer and know not where or how to buy it here. You tell me, my dear Jean, that you are more solitary now ; indeed your position has greatly altered within the last year, and you now, young as you are, have to take a kind of front rank. Study, my dear Sister, to acquit yourself well in it. There, as in all scenes of life, you will find that from your own judgment, and your own conscience the best help must be sought. For our Margaret who sleeps now in her silent rest [we must not] mourn : ^ I think of her daily, hourly, not in sorrow so much as 1 Their eldest sister, Margaret, had died in the preceding June. Carlyle's letter concerning her death to his brother John is printed in Froude's Life, ii. 109 ; and there is a brief but affecting account of this " very great, most tender, painful and solemn grief" in the paper on Edward Irving, Reminis- cences, ii. 193. 1831 TO MISS JANE CARLYLE I87 in awe and love ; and trust the Almighty may one day restore her to us, and us to her, in some holier world than this : nay, who knows but she may even now in some inscrutably mysterious way be near us. We are spirits as well as she, and God is round us and in us, Here as well as Yonder ! Let us not weep for her, but try rather to honour her memory by imitating the good that made her dear to us. Cultivate that quiet purity of heart, that silent justness and fairness of resolve that we saw in her ; be wise and meek and humble as she was. In some points, I shall hardly see her ' like again. She had a fairness and loving tolerance in judging of her neighbours, which is perhaps of all virtues the rarest among women. Fewer idle words were perhaps spoken by scarcely any. The mind shone within her like a clear, modest lamp,; en- lightening all her goings : thus she could travel through her earthly course unspotted as few are, and now lies enshrined in all our hearts forever. God is great, God is good : if it is His will we shall meet again, and part no more. It is very gratifying to me, my dear Jean, to think that in several respects you resemble her that is away. One great virtue I have seen and often praised in you, that of Truth : nay, I think if one could never tell a lie to one's own heart (which is the worst to do) one had mastered the whole secret of virtue. Persist in what you see to be good and your duty ; be 1 88 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 patient, gentle, submissive even to z7/-usage : what are we that we should be well used ? Did they use Jesus of Nazareth well ? Above all, avoid vanity, self-conceit, Presumption of all sorts ; want of Humility (which is a deep and glorious feeling, could we see into it) is simply the want of all Religion, of all true moral worth. I know this by the best of all teachers, Experience. Humility is no mean feeling, but the highest, and only high one ; the denial of Self it is, and therein is the begin- ning of all that is truly generous and noble. — Be kind to every one, especially to our Father and Mother ; one never repents kindness ; a thousand times one does the want of it, — when repentance is too late. — Write to me with all freedom as to your Brother that loves you. Kindest remembrances to all and every one. God be with you. T. Carlyle. LX. — To his Mother, Scotsbrig. Craigenputtock, Tuesday night, 1st February 1831. My dear Mother — ... I have a great body of little bits of things to tell you, which are hardly worth putting on paper, You will learn the main thing, when I tell you that we are all in the usual state of health and activity ; struggling on in our Soli- tude, as well as the times will allow. None of us are growing a penny richer ; but we have wherewith to keep mall in shaft (worse or better '831 TO HIS MOTHER 189 wedged) ; and that is all that man can expect, or even desire on this side of Time : let us bruise away, and beat lustily with that same mall, so long as it will hold together, and fear nothing. I have written a piece of a Review for the Edinburgh, and am hovering about the materials of a Book, which I have so long talked of: one day or other it must out. My Review, which is about some foolish German matter, worth little, will not be published for three months. I sent it off a week ago. . . . We had a Letter from Goethe, or rather from Goethe's Secretary, with a short kind, postscript from Goethe to tell that he was " still in the land of the living and beside his loved ones."^ He has lost his only son (far from him, travelling in Italy); and has had a violent fit of sickness (a flux of blood), so that for two days his own life was despaired of. He bore his son's death like a hero ; " did not cease from his labours for a single day." I have written to him all that was kind : engaged among other things to translate his Poem di Faust, which I reckoned would be a gratification to him. If my own Book were out, I would begin it with alacrity. Alick has yet heard nothing about Craigen- puttock farm ; though to-morrow is the term for something being settled concerning it. I had a long talk with him on that subject to-night; gave him my best counsel, but of course nothing can be done, till we see farther what course matters take. No one has mentioned a whisper of it to 1 See Correspondence between Goethe and Carlyle, p. 251. igo LETTERS QF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 me for the last three months. I do not know what chance he has for it ; of whether a true friend would so much as wish him to continue in it. There are many chances and paths for an active little fellow besides this moorland one ; and if he do leave it, he will not leave it empty- handed. My duty in the meantime is to look and listen, and hold my tongue. — I am very glad to see that his Wife seems to " answer the end " : he looks a good deal happier since he wedded ; and if more burden may also have more ballast, in future. — Alas, dear Mother ! the end of the sheet is here already. I had innumerable things to say — all meaning this : that I am still struggling forward as of old, and still full of affection for you. I read the Testament. God always bless you, my dear Mother! — Your affectionate Son, T. Carlyle. LXI. — To Dr. Carlyle, London. Craigenputtock, \oth February 1831. My bear Brother — ... I view your situation in London with true sympathy yet with some pride and entire confidence. The most grievous part of it, which however is probably for you the happiest, is that it is my debt you are in straits for. I have not at this time any power of repaying you ; unless that shilly-shally Editor will print my stuff, and be done with it. Nevertheless tell me, and you shall not be driven utterly to the wall. I have various possibilities, yet unexhausted : I have a 1 83 1 TO DR. CARLYLE 191 great useless mare, in foal, which I can send to market were summer here : one way or other, we must and shall come through ; so fear nothing. My only prayer is that you had any medical practice, were it never so little ; and could bid adieu forever to that despicable Author-trade. Doubtless you yourself are full of this same feeling ; and will hail your first fee, like the dawn of day. Meantime practise gratis, practise any way rather than no way : it is your only chance and hope. And so Courage ! Courage ! We are young and the world's wide. I have yet heard* nothing of my Article from Macvey, and nothing of yours, which I hope will answer. At any rate, as you said, there is a sure reward for you, in the increase of your own knowledge, and the consciousness of right endeavour. Let the issue then be as it will. . . . Meanwhile I have sent a Letter to Dr. Bowring ^ (keep this quite private), offering him a paper on the Nibelungen Lied, and some further connection, if he like, as he gave me to know through Tait of Edinburgh last year that he did. We shall see in two weeks what this produces. Probably nothing, in which case no matter. My plan is, you see, to get some kind oi financial work for myself, to keep house with, and in the meantime to labour at my Teufelsdreck Book, and bring it up to London in my pocket so soon as it is ready. The whole perplexity comes of that thrice and four times 1 Editor of the Westminster Review. 192 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 accursed Literary History, which has thrown me a whole year behind all my old connections, most of which accordingly are broken. Never- theless I will one day sell that book too, for there is some morselkin of stuff in it : and in the meanwhile, I feel a kind of contemptuous courage ; there being material enough in my head, I shall one day find publishers enough. I can tell you of no news here. You will see by the Newspaper what a storm we have had, and how poor wayfarers have even perished in it. Your last week's Courier will not reach you till Saturday, the country was all blocked up here, we did not even send it off till yester- day. . . . For the last fortnight I have scarcely been writing any : I wait anxiously for the Parcel from Edinburgh, with news from my Editors ; that I might get my Review work over, and then take me to my Book. I am a little comforted by your view of Teufels- dreck, which agrees with my own . . . and I believe, myself, that possibly I may make some- thing of the work, and therefore shall try. It is full of dross, but there is also metal in it, and the thing still lives and produces with me. I have also undertaken at some future day to translate Faust: the venerable Alte has written to me since his sad visitation, he " can still linger for a season among his loved ones " : a letter of mine is by this time in his hands. Gott mit Ihm / . . . Think no shame of your Poverty, I am often almost proud of mine. Think of the great Jean 1831 TO DR. CARLYLE 193 - Paul, and of so many thousand other heroes ! Striving all the while with our utmost energy to widen our field of action, to become lord of our world, let us take defeat lightly : it is good for us. We all salute you in love. God bless our Brother. T. Carlyle. LXII. — To Dr. Carlyle, London. Craigenputtock, 26th February 1831. My dear Jack — . . . Your last Post Letter was excellent ; of the kind they should all be : you cannot fancy what interest such notices, as the many there given, have for us here. With great pleasure I will take to writing once a fortnight : I could also contrive, without any violence to rules, to make some Hon. Member save the postage occasionally ; for which pur- pose, among others, will you again send me Charles BuUer's address : to whom had I known it, I would have sent this Letter. The address has been sent down to Scotsbrig with a large bundle of your Letters, and though I sent for these, they have never come up again, Franks are always welcome, especially in this low state of the financial department : however one can always cram a good shilling's-worth into a sheet ; and we should be poor indeed did not such a one as your last always triumphantly clear its way. I must continue the simple annals of this colony of God's creatures for you. The Farm of Puttock is not yet settled : however, we hear that there are " four offers for it all about the 194 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 same " ; so that Alick has now wellnigh lost hope of it. . . . Farming, as I read the times, is done, or nearly so ; the rents are all some fifty per cent too high ; yet the present race of Farmers must continue : so until the agricul- tural capital [tools of agricultural industry) is all consumed (in feeding pointers and the like) and the present race of Farmers ruined out, there is little hope of improvement. The Scotsbrig people are straitened enough too ; so it is but ebb tide with us all : nevertheless we are still a "one and all," and will struggle briskly on, and encourage one another. For me Alick's removing will be a mournful deso- lating sort of thing : but I really think that for himself it will be a benefit. . . . As for myself, matters have brightened up in some small degree, and I am at work again, Bowring wrote by return of post a very frank warm-looking Note, wishing to have the "Nibe- lungen Article " directly : 1 have been cobbling at it for five days incessantly, and sent it down with Alick to-day. I rather hope that Bowring and I may yet get on a little : he seems a very honest man.^ . . . LXIII. — To Dr. Carlyle, London. Craigenputi'OCK, i^th March 1831. My dear Jack — ... I said in the News- paper of yesterday Mit Alick nock nichts 1 The greater, part of the remainder of this letter is in Froude's Life, ii. 141. i83i TO DR. CARLYLE J9S entschieden; which is true but not the whole truth. It did become decided last week that he was not to remain here : the place is let (for £1^0^^ to some repeatedly-bankrupt Drover of these parts ; and the brave Polwarth marches, — let us hope, to a more genial region. I could growl deep enough over all this, and how the toil and tumult of years goes for nothing ; but is not the principle Sic vos non vobis universal in the life of men, and of the deeper application the better they are ? What a brave heart has to do in this case is not whining and repining but looking round for some fresh arena. . . . Something I have no doubt, at the worst, we shall contrive : neither do I altogether regret the four struggling years Alick has spent here ; he has learnt much, and leaves the place a better man, whether a richer or not, than he came. I add only that Robert Clow,^ one of the worthiest persons of his sort now alive, has decided on coming to live with him, be it here or there : the creature called the " Laird " it seems is not to be lived with ; and poor Rob will work for Alick at anything, and so live with some mortal that will look kindly on him. Poor Rob ! His little edifice too has crumbled into ashes, and his simple heart was wounded to the quick, like ours, when that grave opened ! But we will turn the leaf. . . . As for ourselves, in the middle of all these 1 Thirty pounds a year less than the former rent. 2 Alick Carlyle's brother-in-law, who had been engaged to their sister Margaret. 196 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 fluctuations, we sit still, and keep an outlook on the firm headlands, praying too for an occasional glimpse of the eternal Stars. After Whitsunday we shall find ourselves here literally unter vier Augen, alone among the whinstone deserts ; within fifteen miks not one creature that we can so much as speak to ; for the Stroquhan people too are all wrecked (commercially), and are to remove to Moffat. With the " incoming Tenant,"^ who poor fellow, is but another of the great sect of Drudges, for whose fate I mourn daily, we expect to have few difficulties : our servant is an excellent creature ; our premises are all railed in and distinct ; there will be nothing to do, as I said to Jane, but clap a lock on every door, and buy a pair of pistols. The poor man, it is prob- able, will be very ready to oblige us, for hire. I once thought of re-engaging Elliott, and trying that Burble [Barbouiller) again ; but have fallen upon a far grander scheme. Listen, Jack ; for what I have got to say will not fail to interest you. Through the summer it is quite easy- living here as we are ; and against winter, I purpose, having saved every penny that can be earned, coming along, with my Wifekin under my arm, to — London ! Yes, I compute that before the long days are done, I shall have realised two things : finished my prodigal son Teufelsdreck, and got Fifty pounds into my pocket. With this sum, under the guidance of Heaven, we will visit the great Beehive and 1 Alick Carlyle's successor at Craigenputtock. 1 83 1 TO DR. CARLYLE 197 Waspnest, and (till it run done) see what is to be seen. Do thou, O Doil, take serious thought in the interim how any independent lodgment may be effected with that mite of cash, in what way such mite may be spun out farthest. Thou knowest me and my ways. I have decided on living on mine own bottom (Grundund Boden) for I can be a guest, beyond two days or so, with no mortal known to me, without mutual grief. Therefore, I say, let us try. I will do my best ; and surely we shall have space to find a Pub- lisher for Devilsdreck, and look round also, spying all outlooks whether there is absolutely Nothing in God's creation that will unite with me, in the way of work and well-doing. Nay,^ I have half a mind (but this in deepest secrecy) to start when I come there, if the ground pro- mise well, and deliver a Dozen of Lectures, in my own Annandale accent, with my own God- created brain and heart, to such audience as will gather round me, on some section or aspect of this strange Life in this strange Era ; on which my soul, like Eliphaz the Temanite's, is getting fuller and fuller. Does there seem to thee any propriety in a man that has organs of speech and even some semblance of understanding and sincerity, sitting forever, mute as milestone, while Quacks of every colour are quacking as with lungs of brass ? True, I have no Pulpit : but as I once said, cannot any man make him a pulpit, simply by inverting the nearest Tub ? 1 The remainder of this paragraph is printed (with one or two serious errors) in Froude's Life, ii. 143. 198 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 And \yhat are your Whigs, and Lord Advocates, and Lord Chancellors, and the whole host of unspeakably gabbling Parliamenteers and Pulpit- eers and Pamphleteers, — if a man suspect that "there is fire enough in his belly to burn up" the entire creation of such ! These all build on Mechanism : one spark of Dynamism, of Inspi- ration, were it in the poorest soul, is stronger than they all. As for the Whig Ministry, with whom Jeffrey might appear to connect me, I partly see two things : first that they will have nothing in any shape to do with me, did I show them the virtue of a Paul, nay, the more virtue the less chance, for virtue is Freewill to choose the Good, not Tool-usefulness to forge at the Expedient : secondly that they, the Whigs, ex- cept perhaps Brougham and his Implements, will not endure ; the latter indeed I should wonder little to see one day a second Cromwell •} he is the cunningest and the strongest man now in England, as I construe him, and with no better principle than a Napoleon has ; a feeling of Virtue, a worship and self-devotion to Power. God be thanked that I had nothing to do with his University and its Committees! — So that Providence seems saying to me : Thou wilt never find Pulpit, were it but a Rhetoric Chair, provided for thee : invert thy Tub, and speak, if thou have aught to say! — Keep all this invio- lably secret, dear Jack : and know in the mean- while so much, that if I can raise fifty pounds, at 1 Cromwell was as yet no hero to Carlyle, who still held the opinion regarding him which was then current. 1 83 1 TO DR. CARLYLE 199 the right season, to London I will certainly come. Thus I see a busy summer before me, and therefore no unhappy one. Teufelsdreck, I hege und pflege, iiight and day ; and hope also to put forth an " Article " or two before then. Teufelsdreck is not the right thing yet, but there is a kind of life in it, and I will finish it. . . . For this time A Dios I — Your Brother, T. Carlyle. Also mention, if you can, when Croker's Boswell's Life of Johnson comes out. I have a great mind to write something on Samuel, of considerable length, if not for Macvey,^ then for another. . . . LXIV. — To Dr. Carlyle, London. Craigenputtock, \']th March 1831. . . . With regard to yourself, dear Jack, I had much to say, were there room ; many applauses to give you for your manful battle, and en- couragements to persevere manfully. I see your scribbling situation, and how perverse, almost hopeless it is : neither indeed can I greatly lament that it has so proved ; you had always some such whim in you, and to follow it out farther would but have been to lose more time. I reckon, my dear Brother, that you have thrown off various follies, and are fast acquiring a new and far deeper sort of wisdom. Thank God for it, there is no other sort of 1 See ante, p. 149 «. 200 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLVLE 1831 good in this world ! Your attitude seems to me manful, your outlook and efforts the most judicious you could adopt. Subsistence with the exercise of the noble Art you have acquired : such is your aim ; in which, by persisting in it, you must and will prosper. As for your plan of an assistant Surgeonship in some Regiment,. I may say freely that if such a thing be come-at-able, it ought to be taken. You are also quite right about ploughing rather than taking to a mere messroom life. Consider earnestly, inquire on all hands about the means of getting into some such desirable situation, whether in the Army or elsewhere, make up your project into a plan ; and I will cheerfully call upon the Advo- cate to help you ; and I mistake much if he will not be ready to do all for you that we could ask him. He shows a quite special promptitude and even gladness in doing any- thing of that kind for me. Neither would I have you quit Literature, which is with you another name for Wisdom, for Art, almost for Religion. Hold fast your talent that way as the most precious of your possessions : but understand ever henceforth that " Periodical writing" is the death even of this. It strikes me, as I have often said, that there is a deeper quality in you, both intellec- tual and moral, than has yet quite disclosed itself; that you may write usefully and well : but not in this way. Let your mind grow to clearness, your ideas take root and grow till they fill your whole soul : in the meanwhile. 1 83 1 TO DR. CARLYLE 201 stand on the basis of your Art, which next to moral Teaching and Heahng, with which it has indeed no small connection, is simply the most like a divine Art of any that man can exercise. Let quacks continue to quack ; warum nicht ? and do you in preference take Honesty with bread and water, or even with- out it. God, as you say, will not leave those that have Faith in Him : we may not have Pleasure, we do not need it, but Good we shall not fail to have. I say in spite of all Dandiacal Philosophers and Outer - House Sages, this is, was and forever will be True : Dieu me Va donni, le Diable ne me I'otera pas ! So fear nothing, my dear Jack ; neither be downcast ; what have you to be ashamed of ? Struggle toughly while life is in you : it is a good cause ; the very struggle if wise is success. I further quite agree in your kicking that fairy-tale Medical History to the Devil. If you do know or get to know anything of Medical History, you will publish it by and by in quite other environment, on quite other footing. Try that New Monthly; it is an honest shift : but neither if this fail, lose heart. Above all, turn and study that project of get- ting 2i. fixed medical place, were it the lowest, in honesty. I would cure men on any terms, if I had the art of curing ; nay, rather than let such a faculty sleep in me, I would cure beasts. You are right too in making departure from London one of your last shifts. But finally, dear Jack, know that it is a resource : and so. 202 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 when your last five-pounds is broken in upon, turn your face hitherward, to a Brother's house and heart, who would rather see you true and wise than chancellor and emperor. — Also do not let it get into your wise head that you cause in any the smallest measure our present " difficulties " — about which, when rightly busy, I hardly care sixpence. We cannot in the least understand how you are guilty. Jane greets you well, and agrees with me that you are improving.^ And so God bless you, dear Brother, and ever keep you ! T. Carlyle. LXV. — To Dr. Carlyle, London. Craigenputtock, Monday, iStk April 1831. . . . Consider, think, my dear Brother ; let no false show deceive you ; act not till you feel your feet firm on the rock : then act what you see to be best. I can nowise pre- scribe for you, such a dimness still hangs over your whole environment : but I bid you, and entreat you, consider calmly, and let practical Truth not shadowy fallacious Hope compute the account for you ; above all, do not shrink from a little present pain at the cost of a future far greater. A man that feels he is right can suffer and encounter all, he is stronger than King's hosts ; a man that doubts he is not right has properly speaking no strength whatever. Act wisely, my dear Jack, 1 Mrs. Carlyle has written over this word " very mutch ! " 1 83 1 TO DR. CARLYLE 203 and through good fortune or through bad, through worst, I will ever love you and be proud of you. — Your patience under my Letter is worthy of all praise. From Jeffrey, whom I entreated if possible to find some employment for you, or otherwise really to help you, I hear as yet nothing. Indeed, ever since his arrival in London, his Letters, exclusively addressed to Jane, have had a very tumultuous frothy whirlpoolish character:-! fear the St. Stephen's scene will do him no good ; gyrating so rapidly round the Chancellor's finger, a pretty little gem may acquire centrifugal velocity in excess, and fly away or in pieces. You need not doubt his wish to help you, his readiness, to great lengths, if he saw the means. I pray that it may be for good ;. pray with my whole soul. You are of unspeakable value to me ; for I have always hoped, and of late with more and more cer- tainty, that you would be yourself, and Brother to me in all senses. God guide you, my dear Brother, and turn everything for the best! — You may judge whether I long to hear 01 you. Had I known Badams's address, I would have written him my sympathies in these trying days. Do whatever lies in your ability : we have both a good right ; you only the privi- lege. I am greatly flattered and comforted that he so trusts in you. Assure him of my unabated regards and gratitude ; he did more for me than he is aware of; helped to illumi- 204 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 nate the dark Unbelief of my heart, which is infinitely worse than even bodily sickness. Say to him that I have a friendship for him, and understand (what the most have quite forgotten) something of the meaning of that word. Fraser has consulted you (I suppose) about the scheme of Goethe's Seal. It is almost shocking to trouble you in these times with any extraneous business : yet you will have to oversee this (in a quiet way) lest the good Fraser again become "unfortunate."^ I think we shall do. Nay in any case we can buy a Seal, and have our device cut on it, and send it, we three. I know it will be a real luxury for you to join ; and if you have no money to subscribe with (as is too likely) you will let me treat you to that little happiness. At this hour, I believe our stock of ready cash amounts only to the trifling sum of seven shillings ; however there is more fast becoming due, no debt press- ing (or even existing except mere trifles) ; and here one can hold out long with a very slender furnishing. Never mind then : die Zeit bringt Rosen. . . . God ever bless you, dear Brother ! T. Carlyle. LXVI. — To Dr. Carlyle, London. Craigenputtock, ith May 1831. My dear Brother — I last night received a 1 A phrase of Dr. Carlyle's, " With the best intentions always unfortunate." — M. C. 1 83 1 TO DR. CARLYLE 205 Letter from the Advocate on your business chiefly ; and as I approve of the principles he sets forth there, I think it will be well to tran- scribe it for you, though I wrote at great length only two Posts ago. Perhaps it will materially alter the immediate figure of your proceedings. Attend, therefore, and perpend. After some preliminary flourishes about his " splendid defeat " in the Edinburgh Election, our Chief Magistrate proceeds thus : — " I feel, however, that I ought to have found or made leisure to answer your last letter. I honour your feelings and dp not dissent generally from your principles : but I am not satisfied that you have made out a case for their application. If a man have really no chance, or no tolerably probable chance of succeeding, so far at least as to' be in- dependent of future assistance, in the experiment he now requires aid to pursue, it may be wrong in him to ask that aid, and foolish or even pernicious to give it. But surely there are many cases in which the most valuable and im- portant of all aid may be given to carry on such an experi- ment. Before deciding on your Brother's case, therefore, I wished, and I wish still to know a little more particularly the grounds on which he thinks it probable that, in one or two years more, he may be enabled to establish himself on a footing of independence; and this, with your leave, I would much rather learn from his information than from yours. I intended therefore to have had an interview with him, and to have investigated the grounds of his scheme of life, with some rigour and cold-bloodedness, though I trust not without indulgence, and to have decided accordingly ; certainly not in scorn of your high-minded remonstrances, but probably with some mitigation of their severity, and some larger trust in fortune and providence than you may think it allowable to indulge. Our sudden Dissolution, and the tumultuary movements which preceded and followed it, 2o6 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 and which have cast me back here, have prevented this. So that as I can for the moment do nothing farther in the business, I have only to entreat that you also would forbear to do anything in the mean time ; and allow your Brother and me to settle our little matters in a calm business-like manner when I return to London in Spring. '^ It may be very wrong for a person in his situation to insist on waiting on the brink of the pool' till an angel shall stir the waters : but is it therefore right that a man of education, because his prospects are not very good during his first years of waiting for employment in a profession, should therefore substantially renounce that profession, and set himself down to eat potatoes and read German at Craigenputtock or elsewhere ? I have no disposition to throw away money (especially after having been forced to spend so much, so very unprofitably) without a fair prospect of doing good with it. But I scarcely know any use of it which is likely to do so much good as that which enables an able and industrious man to surmount the obstacles that beset his early career, and to float him over the shoals and bars that obstruct his course into the fair way and flowing tide of the world. Trust me, then, my dear proud friend, in this matter, and do -not fear that I will either wilfully or thoughtlessly, do anything either to injure or degrade your Brother. I will have the fear of your philosophy before my eyes, and have little apprehension of ultimately giving you pain by my decision. " And so you are writing a Book, and why will you not tell me,^' etc. etc. From which Letter, my dear Brother, the tone of which is as you see altogether kind and reasonable, a new light rises for me over the aspect of your fortunes ; and I can now, what I could not on Thursday, give you something ^ Carlyle notes : " .? Doubtless, Summer, when Parliament reassembles." 1 83 1 TO DR. CARLYLE 207 like an advice. Your own feelings are too sound to be fretted with anything that has hitherto passed oh this matter ; but you will see the Advocate as he is, a man truly desirous of doing a good action, and who would think his money (even in a mercantile point of view) well laidout in purchasing such a pleasure. His sentiment towards yourself you will see to be paternal, and look at his proposal with quite unprejudiced eye. For me too, what you perhaps reckon my Pride, were true Pride, savage, Satanic, and utterly damnable, if it offered any opposition to such a project, where my own Brother and his future happiness may be concerned. My " Pride " says not a word or whisper against it : I will write to the Advocate that I heartily thank him for his determination to aid you as he shall see to be kindest towards you; and what I have already said, that if he can save my Brother for me, I will forever call him my benefactor. And now my advice were decidedly that you continued in London by the best and easiest method you had, at least till Jeffrey and you have come to an understanding and decision. Consider your situation with unprejudiced fear- less mind ; listening no moment to the syren melodies of Hope, which are only melodies of Sloth ; but taking cold Prudence and Calcula- tion with you at every step. Nimm Dich zusammen ; as I said (in that perhaps lost Letter) feel your feet upon the rock, before you rest ; not upon the quicksand, where resting will but engulf you deeper. — In your calcula- 2o8 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 tions too I would have you throw out Literature altogether : indeed I rather believe it were for your good, if you quite burnt your Magazine Pen, and devoted yourself exclusively and wholly to Medicine and nothing but Medicine. Magazine work is below street sweeping as a trade ; even I who have no other am deter- mined to try by all methods whether it is not possible to abandon it. — It will be the middle of June before you can see Jeffrey ; and as I calculate at the very worst before you ought to quit London. I hope you can make some shift till then ; at all events it will not make your debt much worse, and I think you ought to try it. The great thing will be to have a good solid story to tell when the day comes ; I do not mean a plausible story and scheme, but a true one ; if you are after all not to succeed in London, and this is only to stave off the evil day a little, I should emphatically warn you against it. Some other wiser project should be formed and assistance asked in that. Thrice and four times I would repeat Nimni Dich zusammen, Nimm Dich in Acht I We are all thrown into real sadness to-day by poor Larry. The poor old toilworn stout- hearted Nag' is dead ! I confess, it is almost half like a human servant's death. Alick whom I have not yet seen, will be sad enough ; for I imagine it is mere hard work that has killed "Larry : such riding to and fro about that Mill, then quite incessant harrowing for extra hours, etc. etc. ; till about a week ago the beast grew 1 83 1 TO DR. CARLYLE 209 sick with swelled throat and so on ; then seemed to grow better, but on Friday relapsed worse than ever ; I advised Alick last night to send off to Dumfries for Castor-oil to him (and the Boy was to take your Newspaper, which by a secret scratch promised this Letter that now arrives along with it) ; but alas poor Larry died before midnight ; and now is not. Fright- ful, frightful is Death even in a brute, and pitiable and black ! I am positively very sad and wae. — Your affectionate Brother, T. Carlyle. I have made an important improvement in the Device of the Seal. Instead of a plain Ring round the Star, we will have a Serpent-of-Eter- nity (its tail in its mouth, universally understood as the emblem of Eternity), and on the body of it, the words engraved. It can be made larger than the Ring could — and then a Star travelling through Eternity Ohne Hast, etc. : this seems to me almost a really beautiful emblem. . . . LXVIL— To Dr. Carlyle, London. Craigenputtock, 6th June 18 3.1. My dear Brother — It must be frankly ad- mitted that your last Letter is no dud, but a real Letter, distinct, considerate, full to the very brim. So should all Letters be, in such a case as ours ; do what we may, now that it is so long since we have talked together, there must much remain obscure. My blessings on a./ull Letter ! It has so friendly a look : were the news it p 2IO LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 183 1 brings never so bad, you have at worst real affectionate sorrow ; without mixture of selfish irritation, — as if you were reading your sen- tence of death in the form of a riddle. Do often likewise, if you love me. There remains a considerable arrear of news here, which I must now bring up, briefly. It appears, in my dislike of " vain repetitions," I have gone too far, and never once stated that Alick was to stay, and look after his crop, here. He is now tenant of our Peat-house ; which "with his own hand" (as Irving marked the Presentation Copies) he has brushed up into a very tolerable cottage, with two windows, plastered brace,^ wooden-floor, ceiling ; wherein he calculates on passing the summer well enough ''for lodgings." Poor Alick ! Though fortunate beyond expectation in the Roup^ of his stock and so forth, he finds himself to have lost up- wards of ;^300 since he came hither, that is, at the rate of some ;^8o a year, beyond his whole labour bodily and spiritual ! We all think it extremely fortunate that he has now finally- done with farming Craigenputtock ; for which enterprise he is evidently not adapted. There is still something like ;^400 left him, with which he will be enabled to stock Dairlaw Hills, or some other farm, next year (as we hope), and try the trade again where he understands it better. He busies himself in the meantime scrubbing up his mansion, gathering ^^a;/.y, and so oh : I think, he has got more wit since he 1 Chimney-piece. 2 gale by auction. i83i TO BR. CARLYLE 211 came hither, which indeed is beyond all other getting. He has a considerable ingenuity and activity of character ; great warmth and even mercy of heart, with all his " dibble of a temper" ; will surely learn more precision of calculation ; and (with better times also) do better. His Wife Jenny seems to answer him exactly, is very fond of him ; with her and children she may bring, he will feel a man among men, and shift his way, I hope, not unsuccessfully. — By way of postscript I must add here that his losses in stock are not yet done : poor "Jolly" (the Nag Drumwhirn) died two days ago, of inflammation of the lungs. Harry is the only soniped. we now have ; and grazes with two cows in our field, a universal favourite. Jemmy was up at the Roup (Monday before Whitsunday), and brought all manner of hand- some tidings from Scotsbrig ; where indeed Jane and I had been, as we prophesied to you, some ten days before, and found everything better than we expected. Mary ^ was settled in her cottage (close to the Scotsbrig door). . . . Our Mother was kind and spirited as usual ; consulted much about you; looked back, also with warm but not miserable tears : she was as well as I have seen her for a long time. Our Father also was stirring about, exceedingly em- phatic; but they seemed to have more the way of him. Jean and Jenny have rushed up into womanhood. Such be the changes " fleeting 1 His sister, now married to James Austin, son of the farmer of Carstammon. 212 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 Time procureth."^ However, all the premises were whitened, cheerful ; and the good people seemed as happy in them, as perhaps the lot of this Earth often allows. Oi you I still told our Mother there was no ultimate fear : me too she seemed willing to part with for London or else- where, seeing there was little more good for me here. As to ourselves, we live the stillest of lives ; except that once at Scotsbrig, I have not been from home since January. The place has grown positively a beauty since you first saw it ; I would desire nothing better could I fly away with the whole pre- mises, and set them down somewhere about Highgate or Pimlico ; and there find work. So still, so pure, are the air, the foliage, the herbage, and everything round us, one might (if Arcadianly given) almost fancy that the yellow butter-cups were Asphodel, and the whole scene a portion of Hades — some outskirt of the Elysian portion. We have a dry warm summer, and the very perfection of solitude, — which, however, is nowise synonymous with Rest. I am dressed again in gray (stuff), and wear your hair-cap, which Jane has retrimmed, and now admires. — What is more to the pur- pose, I am daily busy with Teufelsdreck, which I calculate on finishing early next month. But, 1 " To see the changes of this age That fleeting time procureth." See " Leader Haughs and Yarrow," a ballad which Carlyle always liked. — M. C. 1 83 1 TO DR. CARLYLE 213 like James Brown, " I write dreadfully slow." It will be one of the strangest volumes ever offered to the English world, whether worth anything is another question. At all events, I determine to finish it, and bring it up to London in my pocket during this very Session of Parlia- ment (if I can) ; and there look round me also, whether there is any habitation fit for me. To spend no other winter, at least not the next, in Craigenputtock is what we have resolved on : z/'my honest industry will support me anywhere else. I must move, in fact ; for I am getting quite entangled. The loss of time here (in a pecuniary point of view) is incalculable : thus Napier, though it is said he hears my Paper well spoken of, has never either paid me, or sent the smallest notice about q^new undertaking. In London, I should strive to ascertain if I could not be my own Editor. Two or three sufficient Mystics (such will ere long be in Britain) might do wonders. . . . Hundreds of other things I had to say, my dear Brother, from this side of the house ; but must turn now for a moment to yours. What can I advise you ? Almost nothing. It is infinitely easier to discover that all your schemes are question- able, than to set you on any hopeful one. It appears to me that you have no heartiness in the business of medicine, and would incline to give it up. I lament this (if it be so) ; for I again declare that to me it seems among the noblest of all human employments : but unless it so seem to you, that of course says nothing. 214 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 Tell me, however, have you any other outlook ? I think not : for with regard to Literature, surely your own Experience has loudly enough declared that by it you cannot live. Flatter not yourself about the disadvantage of " writing from hand to mouth " : did not Irving once tell you that, except by Periodicals, money could not be got at all ? Here am I writing most deliberately for the last six months ; and I know not in the least whether I shall ever gain the price of my paper. Neither, I think, can you write any truly good Medical Book, till you yourself have tried Medicine. In short, my dear Brother, it would almost give me pleasure to hear that you had quite thrown up writing — for the next five years. At all events, in this I am perfectly decided : You ought to borrow no sixpence upon anything like Litera- ture. I feel this deeply and . clearly. Your sole chance that I can see is to form some rational plan of getting employment in your Profession (or anything else, if you dislike that), such a plan as will convince Jeffrey that you have a clear chance of success from it (so far as that you can live), by aid of any reason- able sum, — which sum to borrow from him. You speak of large sums necessary in the country ? How is this ? I have known men set up in the country with ;^50 ; and £200, I think, were no bad beginning in many places. But above all, my dear Brother, make up your mind to something (for you are quite miserable till then), and stick firmly by it. God grant 1 83 1 TO DR. CARLYLE 215 you light, and courage and patience ! Do not think me intolerant : I feel for you through my whole heart, and pity you and mourn for you. Make a bold effort and a bold sacrifice, and you must get through it. Write soon and fully. God be with you, my dear Brother, now and always ! — Your affectionate, T. Carlyle. LXVIII. — To Dr. Carlyle, London. Craigenputtock, "jthjuly 1831. My dear Jack — I received your kind and satisfactory Letter ; and am now (in the most hurried manner, for I really have no time but what I steal) about to send you a two-pence worth of news in return. The Advocate writes me last night, that you are "very reasonable and practicable " ; and seems to have good hopes himself, of a reasonable and practicable sort; only "we must have patience." I will tha;nk him from my heart, to-night on the cover of this.^ Help towards work I would solicit from any reasonable man : mere pecuniary help (for its own sake) is a thing one should always be in the highest degree cautious of accepting. Few are worthy to give it ; still fewer capable of worthily receiving it : such is the way of the time we live in. Were it attainable, I would very greatly prefer seeing you settled to practice, under any 1 The letter being sent under cover to Jeffrey. What follows of it is inaccurately given in Froude's Life, ii. 155. 2i6 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 tolerable auspices, to travelling as a Doctor : though this too were much preferable to your present condition. One who has no situation ought thankfully to accept any, whether travelling or stationary. I have, some con- siderable trust that the Advocate, who is a practical man, and whose benevolent disposi- tions you do not exaggerate, will be able to give you something like a lift. Meanwhile, relax not your own efforts for a moment : think, project, investigate : you are like a soul struggling towards birth; the skilfullest Ac- coucheur (pardon the horrible figure) can but help the process. Here too the Ccesarean operation, as I have seen, is oftenest fatal to the foetus. In short. Jack, there lie the rudi- ments of a most sufficient Man and Doctor in thee ; but wise Will must first body them forth. Oh I know the thrice-cursed state you are in : hopeless, grim, death-defying thoughts ; a world shut against you by inexpugnable walls. Rough it out, toil it out ; other way of making a man have I never seen : one day, you will see it all to have been needed, and your highest, properly your only blessing. — Write me that other "practical Letter," when you "have done something." Write me deliberately, consider- ately : you will find it an excellent exercise for yourself too. . . . 1831 TO DR. CARLYLE LXIX. — To Dr. Carlyle, London.^ Craigenputtock, \2thjuly 1 83 1. My dear Brother — I wrote last Thursday under cover to the Lord Advocate, which Letter perhaps you have before this received : however not knowing the right address, I was obHged to address the M.P. "at London," so that some delay may have occurred. Alick and I were down at the Kirk on Sunday (I went, for the first time these many months, because of the Irish Collection), and there your Letter was lying ; which demands a quite in- stantaneous reply. I regretted greatly that no 'device of mine could take effect sooner than to-night (for Harry is still unrideable) : but as if it had been some relief, I made ready another Letter for your behoof (of which anon) that very night, and have had it lying here, sealed, ever since. It was a Letter to Bo wring, re- questing him to pay the Nibelungen Article forthwith into your hands : I did this as courteously as possible, and imagine he will not fail. However, a day or two may elapse ; and in the meanwhile you have nothing. Had I been at Dumfries, I would have got a Bank of England Note f but there is none such here : we have not even a better than this of one pound (though' I tried to borrow a five, in 1 This letter is printed (broken up, and some sentences of it stated to be from a letter addressed to Mrs. Carlyle senior) in Froude's Life, ii. 153, 155, 157. 2 In general only procurable from bankers in Scotland. 2i8 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 vain) : so you must receive it as our poor non-plus-ultra. Take it to William Hamilton in Cheapside ; say your Brother was sending - you money, etc., and requested that he would give you a sovereign for this. If Bo wring do not send before it is done, I think you may call on him. I suppose there will be three sheets, and their pay is only ten guineas.^ Take off it what you have need of till I come. Write also a word on the Paper to say how it is, and you are. I have had you little out of my head since Sunday last. Shocking as your situation is, however, we all here agree that it is more hopeful than we have ever yet had clear argument to think it. Thank God you have done no wrong : your conscience is free, and you yourself are there. We all reckon that your conduct in that matter of Jeffrey's ;^20^ was entitled to be called heroic. Sooner or later, my dear Brother, it must have come to this, namely, that your own miscellaneous industry could not support you in London, and that you ceased to borrow : better we say. now than later. Bear up, front it bravely : there are friendly eyes upon you, and hearts praying for you. Were we once together, it will be peremptorily necessary to consider how the land lies, and what is to be done. In all situations (out of Tophet) there 1 Per sheet. The other magazines paid Carlyle sixteen guineas. 2 Which sum Jeffrey had kindly pressed upon Dr. Carlyle, who accepted it, but carried it back the following day. r83i TO DR. CARLYLE 219 is a Duty, and our highest blessedness lies in doing it. — I know not whether Jeffrey may be able to do anything for you ; he speaks to me rather more hopefully than he seems to have done to you : I can have no doubt of his wish, but some of his ability. Could you fix on any- thing as possible and feasible yourself, and have only to ask his furtherance, he would give it gladly. — He represents himself as on the out- look for me too : for I told him I was thinking of London ; felt ready to work at any honest thing whatsoever ; did not see that Literature could support an honest man otherwise than a la Diogenes ; in which fashion too I meant to experiment, if nothing else could be found, which however, through all channels of investi- gation, I was minded to try. He wrote back asking what manner of Clerkship in Excise Offices, at the Board of Longitude, etc. etc., I detested least : I answered that I liked them all ; if he heard of any, to let me know instantly. I do not expect that he will be able to accom- plish anything for me. I must even get through life without a trade, always in poverty, as far better men have done. Our want is the want of Faith. Jesus of Nazareth was not poor though he had not where to lay his head. Socrates was rich enough. — I have a deep,, irrevocable, all-comprehending Ernulphus Curse to read upon — Gigmanity ; that is the Baal Worship of this time. I shall study to be with you about the begin- ning of August. I have written, as you sug- 220 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 gested, to Napier for a note to Longman ; also for payment of what he owes me. I am struggling forward with Dreck, sick enough, but not in bad heart. I think the world will nowise be enraptured with this (medicinal) Devil's Dung; that the critical republic will cackle vituperatively or perhaps maintain total silence : a la bonne heure ! It was the best I had in me ; what God had given me, what the Devil shall not take away. I am very glad the Seal is about done, and in a way that satisfies you. ... I think I must scribble some Letter to go with it, and send it off to [William] Fraser to get copied and signed. If I can manage so, it shall be sent off on Sunday next — under Frank. ... I should have written to our Mother to-night, but cannot, I am so far back with my " Chapter on Symbols." I am at the 13 2d page : there may be some 1 70 ; but much of it is half written. — Be of good cheer, my dear Brother ! Behave wisely and continue to trust in God. No doubt. He sent you hither, to work out His will : it is man's mission ; and blessedness, could he but rightly walk in it. Write to me ; trust in me. — Ever your Brother, T. Carlyle. LXX. — To his Mother, Scotsbrig. Craigenputtock, i^thjuly ( Tuesday night) [ 1 8 3 1 ] . My dear Mother — Will you be content with the shortest Letter I ever wrote you ? 1 83 1 TO HIS MOTHER 221 For, literally, I have not, these some weeks, had any half minute of deliberate time. My Book is drawing to a close, and I must be off" to London by the end of the month (Jack says) — of which month there are now eleven days remaining ! Thus you see how I am hurried ; and work what is in me, and almost more. Nevertheless it shall go hard but I will see you before I go. I hope the writing will be pretty well over by perhaps the middle of next week ; after which I will set about harnessing the old Gig, and drive off — if I am done ; and can get a horse, for Harry will not ride yet, for blister-wounds.^ You may partially expect me then next week : if I cannot come, I will write on Wednesday. But be sure that it will be close on the verge of an absolute impossibility (which I do not anticipate), if I do not come sometime before setting out. On Wednesday next, then, you will get a Letter ; or get none — which you will like better. — Jane talks of coming with me ; wishing to see " all of me that she can." Meanwhile, dear Mother, understand that we are all on foot, in the old way; no broken hearts or bones among us. Alick is busy with his potatoes — ploughing (the second time): I heard him gee-hoe-ing in his cattle, not long ago. Jenny labours within doors, and without as it may chance : is always cheerful-looking, but (to usward) highly incommunicative. Jane is complaining somewhat of her old 1 Had nearly died of the epidemic which attacked all the horses at Craigenputtock. 222 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 ailments : the summer weather never agrees well with her. Jack is to take Lodgings for me and him in London. He has had an interview with Jeffrey, and seems to have behaved well, even nobly. He is not without money for his wants : and is to wait till I see him before he resolve on what is to be done. I rather conjecture this training he is getting in London will teach him more than he has ever learnt elsewhere. I have great confidence in him : neither is he now without help. Jeffrey thinks well of him, and that employment may be got: but "we must have patience!" How are jK^M all 1 Yourself, my Father, and all the Branches ? It is In vain to ask ; for there is none to answer me, but the Echo. I will hope and pray for the best ; and hasten down to see. Here then I end. — I forgot to say that I was not at all in a bad way of health : very high in the humour, and defiant both of the Devil and the world. I think I have looked into the worst that is in them both ; and, through God's grace, no longer fear it. Our misery is even as you say, when God hides Himself; there is no other misery. Good-night, my dear Mother ! May He, through whom, and in whom we all are, ever guide us all ; and grant us this only : Submission to Him, which is the beginning and end of good ! Amen ! — Your affectionate Son, T. Carlyle. 1 83 1 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 223 LXXI. — To Alexander Carlyle, Craigenputtock. 6 WoBURN Buildings, Tavistock Square, London, iZth August 1831. My dear Alick — I write you a-, syllable or two merely to say that I still think of you ; for doubtless the body of my news is already known to you through Jane. I trust my Mother also knows all about me. Your crop seems to have been very hand- somely sold : so let us hope you may get all your Craigenputtock affairs cleared off better than once seemed probable. I have but a few moments, and must send you what little tidings I have about Jack. His position here is much as I fancied it : very questionable, yet not without possibilities of ultimate success even here. . . . By my instigation he wrote off to Birming- ham (where one of the chief Doctors is thought to be dying) : an answer has now come, not very inviting ; and just as we are meditating what to do next, there arises a quite new pros- pect. Namely, a certain Dr. Baron of Glou- cester, of whom I know a very little, to whom the Advocate had been speaking of Jack, is applied to by the Countess of Clare (an Irish lady of rank and wealth) for a Travelling Physician to go to Italy for a year. He men- tions Jack, who is accordingly summoned to the West End of this "Noble City"; finds her Ladyship ; talks to her (as he thinks, acceptably) ; and is then informed that " she has 224 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 been speaking to another medical gentleman, and will write if she do not engage with him in a day or two ! " I think we shall actually hear something of her : but as yet nothing has come. For my own share, I do not greatly covet this situation : except that it brings some money to a moneyless man, it is distinctly disadvantageous. . . . Irving is decided that he should continue here, and try it to the uttermost ; never was surer of any man's success, etc. etc., so talks William Hamilton also ; indeed I incline to that view myself, had the man any course open for him. You can tell my Mother that Irving further (who should be a judge) speaks highly of Jack's religious character ; and appears every way to think very well of him. . . . Enough now : farewell, my dear Brother, for the present, and God bless you ! — Ever yours, T. Carlyle. LXXII.^To his Wife, Craigenputtock. London, Wednesday night, 2/^fk August 1831. Dearest Love — What a blessing are these franks of the Duke's ! I can sit down at any moment and scribble to you, were it nothing but complaints, and thousand times repeated expressions of fondness : by this means is some image of a union face to face still kept up ; we are less lonely in separation ; I bear everything more easily, enjoy everything doubly, when I think I can tell it all to her. But why, my own Jeannie, dost thou not do 1 831 TO HIS WIFE 225 the like by me ? Alas ! ne Letter has come for now almost a week : I half- ran over to Jer- myn Street-^ this morning, making sure of a Letter, which I had directed to be left for me that I might have it so many hours sooner ; and alas there was " nothing for you, Carlyle " ! Surely I know, it is no blame of yours : some stagnation at the Kirk,^ nothing worse : yet I cannot express what disappointment the delay gives, what foolish hypochondriacal notions, it conjures up. O what would I do had anything befallen my Own ! Write to me, Dearest : let nothing but absolute impossibility prevent thee : twice a week, that was the arrangement ; ever till we meet again. I had meant to have written largely, but am all taken aback and out of order. The foolish creature Heraud^ called five hours ago and more, just when I was going to begin ; and he is not yet half an hour gone. May the Devil reward him, say you, and say I. However, I do what is possible, and spend the few minutes that remain before supper (^c^ Gott, what a supper without a Goody !) in writing against to-morrow. Besides, William Fraser with his stupid dinner yesterday (at seven o'clock, and in a tavern!) has almost killed me, — figuratively speaking: for 1 Jefftey was living in Jermyn Street. 2 No one going to church at Dunscore who might carry a letter for the post. 3 Carlyle describes Heraud in a letter to Emerson, in 1840, as escaping ^^assassination, I calculate, chiefly by being the cheerfulest, best-natured little creature extant." He was for a time editor of Fraser' s Magazine. Q 226 LETTERS OF THOMAS .CARLYLE" 1831 I woke to-day at four, and have had the vapours and the headaches all day. And, then, Badams is at Death's door, out at En- field ; and his poor Wife vehemently calls on John and me to come and help her : and out of charity what can I do but go over to-morrow at eleven ? Thus everywhere is poor Goody shorn of her just rights, and nothing remains but the will for the act. My Manuscript is returned, as I expected: Rees^ says, " notwithstanding the high ability," etc. etc., they decline the article. This was on Tuesday morning : an hour afterwards I had it over at Jeffrey's, who I daresay has never looked on it : but what other could I do ? I asked him to " prophesy ", when he would likely be done with it ; he said " this week " : so if he keep his promise, you may perhaps hear some- thing next Letter. Nothing very favourable, I doubt : however, fear not, my Darling ! I have cast out fear : I feel that there is work for me here ; and one way or the other I shall have strength given me to do it. Stand by me. Darling, like my own Jane ; like the descendant of John Knox, and the daughter of John Welsh, and the wife of Thomas Carlyle : what can daunt me ? When I measure minds with these people here, I feel as if I could syf&&p them into infinite space, with their errors and their base- nesses, and make roorri for myself to do some- thing better. But wiik thee, with thee, O not without thee ! 1 A partner in the publishing firm of Longmans. 1831 TO HIS WIFE ■ 227 Meanwhile, I have set William Fraser to work on other quarters of the Trade ; chiefly to reconnoitre, for, though unspeakaWy willing, he can do nothing more; and to-morrow,, at half-past ten, he is to report progress. He talks of grand possibilities: but I believe in nothing. "Blessed are they which do not hope, for they shall not be disappointed." And yet, is there not some- thing better in us than lying Hope, namely, a Irue Hope? Forward, ^exv, getrosten Muthes ! . . . Irving, whom I see almost daily (for we are near, and he calls), is bent upon having me remodel Fraser s Magazine, sweep it clean, and become Editor of it : and in spite of all my negations insists on sounding the poor Youth,^ an honest ignoramus of his congregation, who is like to lose ;^2000 by it, if mercy prevent not. Davon wird nichts. . . . The materials of any good among the Litterateurs of this city lie scantily dispersed : such a scandalous set of dogs out of Tophet I should be puzzled where to meet with. The more need of an honest one, were it but by way of variety. Of Jeffrey I may repeat that I can get little good : he really has. no leisure to think of any- thing but his politics ; so that I never get the smallest private talk with him. Indeed, how can he help me ? Where, then, lies our help. Dearest ? Be God thanked, with our- selves ! . . . Of Jack I have great news. He is actually engaged as Travelling Physician to the Countess , 1 Mr. James Fraser, the proprietor of it. 228 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 of Clare, at a salary of 300 guineas (all expenses paid) ; and commences his engagement on the first of October ! It was settled yesterday- morning ; I must write my Mother to explain it, and comfort her ; for she will have a thousand apprehensions. As to myself, I am both glad and wae : everybody here seems to think it a piece of very good fortune, and the only reason- able outlook our Doctor has or ever had for settling in London. Dr. Holland began in that way, and now makes (they say) ;^ 10,000 a year. Whether Jack will ever be rich I know not and care not : but I really conceive that with a fair beginning he will make a good Phy- sician ; and after all kicking and flinging become a respectable man. And now for Jeannie herself. I am very anxious to hear your voice on the London Jour- ney scheme. Would it be any enjoyment to you, or the contrary? The costs of it in other respects I can partly compute : not in this. Be candid with me, Dearest ; we can manage the business : why not speak out, and say I should like it so and so. — Our Lodgings here have various qualities : fresh air, honest landlordship, especially cheapness. Though we pay 26s. for the mere rooms, yet our whole expenses (for John and me) do not exceed two guineas ; less almost than it used to cost myself. The reason is, we have an honest maid-servant, who keeps an eye on overchargers, above all, does not overcharge herself. With you here, there were much improvement possible ; for my Jeannie 1 83 1 TO HIS WIFE 229 carries Order and Gracefulness with her : neither, I think, would you find it very uncom- fortable ; unless the noises afflicted you (they begin about seven, and end not till eleven at night). . . . Speak then, Lovekin ; speak with thy prophetic voice ! Will it do, or how should it be, — if I be kept here say a month still, as is quite possible ? Ach Gott ! a whole month from my Own. And would you stand better in your loneliness ? Worse, if possible. O my own Dearest Jeannie, my own Wife, God bless thee, and keep thee for me ! I never knew how I loved thee till now. Yes, one day I shall tell thee, thou hast borne me through all, and stood ever by my side, as a true Life-com- panion and helper in this otherwise so despic- able world. But I am a fool ; and talk what I should only feel, and act upon. Know thus much of a truth : thou art dearer to me than aught else ; forever dearer to me than the light to my eyes. And be proud of it ; as the Wife of a " Genius " should, when she is a Wife to him. Lastly, write, write, O write abundantly, were it the merest prattle, it is better to me than all eloquence. And so God bless thee ! And take my kiss, and Lebewohl, and expect to hear from me again on Wednesday, and think of me every hour and moment of thy life, and be a good lassie, and I will be good to thee, and thy own, and we shall be, if not happy, blessed, which is better. Amen ! . . . Fare- well, my own Jeannie ! — Forever thy own Hus- band, T. Carlyle. 230 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 LXXIII. — To his Wife, Craigenputtock. London, ■iist August 1831, Wednesday night. Dearest Wife — Late as it is I must have a little word of talk with thee before I sleep. Frank and all is ready ; and perhaps to-morrow there may not be so much composure. — The Newspaper coming in your hand this morning quickened my motions over to Jermyn Street : I had not . gone thither to breakfast ; chiefly because I was very bilious and dispirited ; partly also because the youth Glen was here with some work for me. However, in spite of rain-puddles (which smutted all my white trousers) I was on the spot before noon; and found on entering, the Letter of Letters waiting me. My words were few ; neither were the answers copious, for there seemed to have been some devilry going on : so, after asking for a frank, I rose and took myself away. . . . On the whole, were it not for the franks (which are an immense blessing) I might as well discon- tinue my attendance at Jermyn Street, where positively there is no good to be got, not so much as a serious word. The man is really, I suppose, very busy ; further I take his friend- ship for me, as I have all along done, to be perhaps three parts palabra, and one part half- sentiment, half-goodwill. Poor Duke ! I will always love him : nevertheless there are two things I vehemently desire : first that I had 1 83 1 TO HIS WIFE 231 £(iO to pay him ; ^ secondly that I had my Wife's picture out of his hands, which I cannot but think are nowise worthy to hold it. Let me remember also that the pressure of such a situation as mine can be known to him only theoretically ; further that as nothing is to be done what could be said is perhaps of infinitely small moment. Be not unthankful, therefore ; be not intolerant ! In any case, I rushed forth with my Letter, and read it in the hurlyburly ; with many feel- ings : gladness, sorrow, love, indignation and defiance. . . . Considering that such are your views of an abandonment of the Dunscore Tartarus and a trial of the London Terra Incognita, — I say at once : let [it] be considered as resolved on that we are to pass the winter here! And so do you now turn all your thoughts on the arrangements that must be made ; and by what means poor Puttock may be found standing- for us in the best possible repair, at the next spring season ; when, as I conjecture, the wearied Dyspeptical Philosopher may be once more glad to return thither for a little while. Do not have the thing dismantled in any way : the very thought of it is often worth much to me here. O my little Darling! what a world of wild work for thee : but thou hast a talent for work. — Further- more, as to the time of your setting out hither, be that left wholly to your own wish and con- 1 For money lent by Jeffrey to Dr. Carlyle in September 830. 232 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 venience. This place is habitable even now, though for three- oi us; and poor Jack will vacate it by the first of October. I said, last time, that the Town would be empty and stag- nant till perhaps the middle of that month; that perhaps we might visit the Bullers, from whom, however, I have yet no further news : and in these facts, does the whole matter lie as plain to my dear Prophetess as to myself; let her therefore decide upon everything. O that I saw her (as one day through God's mercy I shall) leaping out of the Coach in this wild hurlyburly into her Husband's arms ! Yes, Dearest, I think I will kiss thee before the whole world, and call thee mine audibly, mine forever and ever. Study, then, how it is all to be, and when ; and say wherein I must help thee. There are, I think, some £2,2> lyi^^g here, sixteen of the Scotch Notes and quite useless for this market : say whether I must send some of these, and how many. Or shall I write to Naso to pay you the Taylor-' at Dumfries? Consider of everything, and com- mand me as thy billeted Sodger. — And now, good-night, my own heart's Wife ! I will kiss thee a million of times for thy bonny new gown, for thy bonny face and heart ; and be all to thee, in this world and in all worlds, that weak man can be. So fear nothing, Love ; trust in me and in God : though forsaken of all, have we not in the worst case one another ? 1 i.e. Naso (Napier) to pay you for the Article on Taylor's Historic Survey of German Poetry. 1 83 1 TO HIS WIFE 233 Jack comes up with news that Goethe has written a Letter (containing simply two stanzas of Poetry about the Seal) to William Fraser ; sealing it, very beautifully, with the Ohne Hast, etc. So the good old man has got his Gift in due season, and rejoices over it.-' Thus far is well.- — Let me mention also that the thing which Glen brought this morning was the Proof-sheets of Reinecke Fuchs^ well printed (45 pages), which I have been partially correcting to-day, and am but half through. — More good news to-morrow. Meanwhile, "Supper, Sir!" (alas, not of por- ridge, for I can realise none here, but of brown bread and milk) ; so that I must go. Sound sleep, my poor lonely Princess among thy Hills: sound sleep, and dreams — of me ! Good-night, Darling ! God keep thee always. — Thursday morning. I am on foot again ; have breakfasted, and will have a word with my Lady before attacking these Proof-sheets, and so make sure of at least one little pleasure for the day. I am generally in such haste that I cannot even reperuse what I have written : tant mieux ; it is the more like speech. — Take now some narrative of my life since Monday. . . . On Tuesday, I called on Bowring with a 1 Seal sent him from Fifteen English Friends. — -See Cor- respondence ietween Goethe and Carlyle, pp. 291-298. 2 This article, reprinted as Early German Literature (Mis- cellanies, iii. 215), appeared in the Foreign Quarterly, No. 16. 234 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 view to Fonblanque ; ^ found him out of Town, but to be back again probably on Thursday- morning ; which opportunity you see I have not embraced, the weather being wet, and a better pleasure and duty awaiting me at home. Returning I took to read Schiller s Life (the Goethe one) ; was ere long interrupted by Irving ; to whom I expounded frankly my theological views, which he received with kindness, yet with thoughtfully puckered face ; seeing it diverge so from his own thaumaturgic theory. From the "work of the Spirit" I have been pretty well relieved of late. Irving and I are to walk out to Coleridge's this even- ing after tea. — Of Dilke's tea (Dilke^ is the name) I have little to say, except that the man is very tolerant, hospitable ; not without a sense for the good, but with little power to follow it, and defy the evil. That is the temper in which I find many here : they deplore the prevalence of dishonesty, quackery and stupidity ; many do it (like Dilke) with apparent heartiness and sorrow : but to believe that it can be resisted, that it will and shall be resisted, herein poor Teufelsdreck is well-nigh singular. . . . They have two or three fine Italian pictures, and a certain Ktmstgefuhl : are better considerably than the average of mortals. Touching the Cunninghams and the wild Irish Dandy and tamed English Driveller that formed the re- 1 Albany Fonblanque, editor of the Examiner and one of the cleverest political writers of the day. 2 Editor and proprietor of the AthencBum. 1 83 1 TO HIS WIFE 235 mainder of our party, there is nothing to be said. — At home I found a confused Note from Empson,^ urging me to call on Mrs. Austin^ (who " would give the world to see me ") and arrange about John Mill (the Spirit of the Age man), that is, about a meeting with him. My Wednesday's adventures are partially before Goody's eye already. After reading her Letter on the muddy pavements of Piccadilly or its neighbourhood, I turned northwards, gornigen Muthes, to that same Mrs. Austin's residence ; which proved to lie some four miles off in a pleasant rural spot, about a mile from this. The Lady was in, but "so sick she could see no one hardly " ; bestirred herself, however, at sight of my card, and after some toilette preparations blessed my bodily eyesight. I am not sure but I have here found a sort of friend for Goody through winter ; at least so I thought, and even partially said. Mrs. Austin ... is the most enthusiastic of German Mystics I have ever met with : an exceedingly vivid person, not without insight, but enthusiastic, as it were astonished, rapt to ecstasy with the German Apocalypse ; and as she says herself verdeutscht. But I must give you some notion (according to laudable wont) of her visual aspect. Conceive Kate Gilchrist beaten out into symmetrical length (the middle size), with a pair of clearest, 1 Jeffrey's son-in-law. ^ At this time living at Hampstead, author (a year or two later) of Characteristics of Goethe, and for many years a well- known literary lady. 236 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 warm blue eyes (almost hectically intense), con- siderable mouth, and moustache on the upper lip, compared with which thine cannot name itself (mole and all) in the same week : an eagerness, a warmth in her whole manner and look, which has in it something feverish ; as indeed her ill-health seemed to disappear at sight of me, and her face became tinged with a pure flush, which I liked not the look of, it was too consumptive. She would have talked with me till yet, but I was iia no mood for prattle ; so after settling that I was to take tea there (or hot water, if the weed be green) on Friday night, when Mill and Empson should be summoned, — I took myself away. She had informed me that a Letter despatched towards me, without my address, was at that time wandering over London : a Letter grounded on some mistake, by the servant, of ^'s mumbling, whereby she thought / had called. Said Letter actually came last night ; delivered by a young man Coke from Norwich, whom I kept to tea. This poor young man I find is partially a disciple of mine, and talks of a small "suffering remnant" more by the title of "us." He is very modest, distinct, earnest-looking, honest-looking. The "Signs of the Times" we had settled to be by you, Sir ! Taylor of Norwich had become an old sensualist ; was grieved a little at some parts of his Review,^ which he imputed, good easy man, to Sir Walter Scott. This Coke has some small ^ Carlyle's Review of Taylor's Survey of German Poetry. 1 83 1 TO HIS WIFE 237 office in the British Museum, whither he invites me (himself invited to come back hither) to see the more secret sort of curi- osities. Almost the only comfort I have had since I came to London is the sight of these poor Disciplekins, whom with Mrs. Irving I might as well call, "Children in the Laart" : for they have evidently believed in me, and are ready for more light, could they or I procure such. To investigate their quality, numbers and aims will be my best work through the winter. Men united are strong ; single, the strongest is weak. Nay what if Goody too, as I said, should now more resolutely unfold her- self, and show other talents than that for silence, whereof she has many and rare ? I long to see how the Scottish sense of my little Dame will comport itself amid the copious outpour- ings of a Mrs. Austin ; perhaps as a habitable castle amid boundless shifting quicksands. Nay Mrs. Austin writes ; why should not Mrs. Carlyle, whose endowment I suspect is con- siderably greater ? I promised that you would agree in condoling over the lot of women : " Oh ! I should so like ! " — for in truth the rude hand of Time has not yet sufficiently de- molished the bloom of that beautiful enthu-si- as-m. Nous verrons ! Thus, Dearest, hast thou a picture of what I do or am trying to do. And now I must off : for the day wears apace ; and the Proofsheets are clamorous. I feel loth to conclude, as if it were again bidding you farewell. We shall 238 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 meet soon ; and not on Paper but in Reality : there lies our comfort. So go, my little Love, and set thy clear little head to work ; and make the best arrange- ments thou canst. I advise thee, as yet, in nothing : write what is the aspect of things ; and where doubt is I too will consider. . . . Thanks, Deary, for thy news from Scots- brig and messages thither : thou must go down, once more, and bring liie all the news ; nay, I forgot, the starting-place itself is Annan. O that it were all over ; and the Screamikin here by me ; and a little, a very little Rest vouch- safed, us !-r-The Book as you see I need not torment , myself so much with pressing for- ward ; we shall be here to see it through — "or publish it on our own account, my Love." — Darling ! — Yet I wish it were out ; for now is the time for it. By the bye, is it worth while to mention that Dilke showed me some- thing in Blackwood by Wilson about — my speech at Dumfries!-' Gracious powers, is the world distract 1 . . . A Dios ! my Dearest: think of me, and ever love me. — Thy own, T. Carlyle. LXXIV.^To his Wife, Craigenputtock. London, Zth September 1831. My Dearest — There is no frank to be had to-day, though I tried for one : King William, 1 At a public dinner to Allan Cunningham. 1 83 1 TO HIS WIFE 239 poor fellow, is getting crowned, and the Duke ^ is "in the Abbey" — happily of Westminister.^ So thou must just pay for it ; seeing I will not disappoint thee. Further I must study to be more concise than usual, and restrict myself to the needful. A half sheet, written last night on the usual principle, must go to waste, or lie waiting for a gratis conveyance. ■ The history of Dreck still sticks simply where it was. . . . That the poor Book is worth some- thing I feel more and more convinced ; that it will ever bring us any money seems less and less likely : thank God that we have been able to write it, and to write xt gratis! For the rest, the hurry with the publishing of it need not now be so furi- ous, when we have to wait on other grounds here. On the whole, that Tuesday was but a black day for me. True, in the morning I had some good friendly conversation with Empson and Mill at breakfast, of whom some good will come for us, I think : but after quitting Empson's chambers all went wrong with me. Murray first to be walked to through miles of rain and mud, then to be waited for, then finally not in : after- wards news for me at the Duke's that two Letters had been there for me, and were there no longer. Unlucky enough ! yet I strove to wait for the "Twopenny" with as much patience as I could; and bolted from my chair, at his well-known knock, thinking it was all right : alas, he handed 1 i.e. Jeffrey. ^ Not of Holyrood (once a sanctuary for debtors) ; A laird in the Abbey is an old Scotch cant name for a bankrupt. — M. C. 240 LETTERS, OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 me in one letter, and that from Goethe ! Where was Goody's ? Patience ! I said, it will be here by the last delivery sometime between this and ten at night. Thou knowest what it is to wait: and alas it was waiting in vain ; I turned bed- wards heavy of heart and quite feverish : blaming the poor Duke (unjustly, considering all his hurries) for not putting both the Letters under one cover. But neither yet were my misfor- tunes done. Winding up my watch, as gently as usual, something in it gave way ; it was evidently broken ! Alas, alas ! and so I went to bed, and for noises and inward agitations, and (gracious Heaven !) for bugs (I need not now conceal it longer) no sleep was to be had till two or three in the morning. It was my miserablest day since I left thee. However, I came to resolu- tions, and endeavoured to trample it all under foot, and stand above it. Happily Wednesday morning of itself brought deliverance. My first visit was from the Two- penny of the prior evening, with apologies for last night's mistake, and, infinitely better, with Goody's Epistle ! All was forgotten when I saw it : almost did I throw down my razor, or cut my chin, so eager was I to have done with shaving ; or to do two impossible simultaneities, to read and shave. Delightful, spiritlike, kind Scream- ikin ! And yet it was painful to me to take such pleasure ; for I saw in it all the inevitable materials of a most wretched headache for the poor one herself. Festina lente, my Dearest ; there is time enough to see London, and what i83i TO HIS WIFE 241 good and evil there lies in it for us : do not shatter thy poor nerves in pieces, for thou hast much to go through, and wilt need all thy strength. ... As to Goethe's Letter/ it con- tains merely a copy of the two stanzas he sent to Fraser, on the one leaf; and then, on the. third page, an announcement that the Parcel came all safe, and he had begun to read in it {erfreulich); further that the Seal was evidently very gratifying ; also that he had gone into " a consideration of the shades {Schattenrisse) ^ and thereby an incredible Approximation of the Absent." Good old man ! But I will now keep the Letter here, till I can get kisses for reading it! — This morning I went for a frank, and half incidentally saw the coronation procession, which seventy or eighty thousand woodenheads besides were looking at. It only detained me some five or ten minutes. Mourn not, Goody, that thou wert absent : it was not worth a walk to Stumpy' (even without the Gate, which I hope is broken) on a dry day. Quantities of caps and feathers, and then at last the royal carriage all made of glass and gilding, more like a huge glass Lantern than anything I ever saw ; and there the poor old King and poor ugly Queen, dimly seen sitting like two foolish wax-dolls (which they were) letting themselves be trailed, in their lantern go-cart. What took ^ See Correspondence between Goethe and Carlyle, p. 295. ^ Silhouettes of Carlyle. — See Id., p. 258. ^ A little cottage, now demolished, which stood near the outer gate of Craigenputtock. — M. C. R 242 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 me I know not : but I burst into the heartiest fit of laughter I have had for some time : and perhaps one ought rather to have cried ; for it was the ghost of the Past perhaps taking final leave of a world, where as body or as ghost it has now walked for some three thousand years ! Poor King ! they will be consecrating him and clothing him even now in that old Abbey ; and what avails it to him or to me or to any man or woman ! Ex nihilo nihil fit. And so here I end my History. The grand question now is : When, and How will Goody come ? One thing becomes apparent to me, that without fretting herself into a fever, she should lose no time. . . . Here, as I doubt, there is no tolerable living (for a permanency) without a house of your own : and of that, no rational hope offers itself at this juncture (eight months' hardest toil, you see, will hardly be accepted "without fee or reward") — nay the utmost that even Irving prophesies is that "in a year or two " I might fall into something. We will hope nothing, and fear nothing. For the present season we are passably secure ; and shall accomplish somewhat by living here : neither after that will our united head and heart, by God's blessing, fail to help us for- ward in the way wherein we should go. Come then, Dearest, to my arms ; and I will guard thee from all evil, and thou me ; from the only real evil, that of losing our inward light. The outward is but a Golgotha at best, which that other has to make alive : let 1 83 1 TO HIS WIFE 243 US feel ourselves above it, and bid it do its worst. Now as to the things fit for being brought hither, it is pity that I have obtained no better knowledge about the expense of carriage, and I see now that corresponding either with Liver- pool or Edinburgh will needlessly protract matters. Perhaps (if you have not actually written) the best thing will be to make up your Barrel, and bring it to Liverpool, co-Ute que coUte, with such light as we have : your Uncle will get it forwarded by the cheapest, which must be far cheaper that 2d. a lb. Doubtless certainty were better, could it be had, but if it cannot ? Besides meal, and a ham, and butter, think generally that whatever is scarce in any town is far scarcer here : also consider the nature of a Lodging-house ; where many little things (jelly- glasses, butter-knife, for example) are not come- at-able, and yet were good to have. Dear Goody, I will leave it all to thy own prophetic judgment ; for truly I have now lost all talent for housekeeping, and depend wholly on thee. Warm clothes in abundance bring for thyself and me (the disfrock will perhaps be my best dressing-gown, but do thou judge) ; stockings, the black trousers ; I think I have shirts enough ; another night-shirt will be good. Nothing, of that sort can be had so easily here. With Books I think at this moment I will not trouble thee. Bring me the Blads (blotting-paper Boards) ; thy Desk (wilt thou lend it me some- times ?) : unhappily my dear old Table cannot 244 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 be brought. By thy own " talent for silence," I think we shall sit here on separate sides of the fire, all forenoon, and I will write, and thou call to see it, as of old. — This is all very dim, dear Wifekin, but I have it no clearer as yet. Do thy best, and I will praise thee for it. What wouldst thou have more ? Prophesy too when I am to look for thee ? Which of these Letters will be the last ! O my Darling, thou art half of me ; and I am a poor half without thee. . . . And now "■must I go?" God ever bless thee. Dearest Wife ! Thy own, T. C. Write a little line to my Mother, to say that she is to see us again in Spring ; that in the mean- while all goes tolerably on ; that I will write soon, at great length, when I get time and a frank. Do this. Darling, as if I were doing it. And now again, Dearest, I must kiss thee, and go. Get some sleep, for Heaven's sake do, and dream of . . . . LXXV. — To his Wife, Craigenputtock.^ London, Wednesday, i/^tk September 1831. Dearest — I have lit my candle, and mounted up hither in the Autumnal dusk ; minded, as usual, to take Occasion by the forelock. The folding window is partially open, but the cur- tains are drawn, and I sit behind the cheek'^ that my light may not blow. Hundreds of noisy urchins are sporting on the street ; from 1 A small part of this letter is in Froude's Life, ii. 199. 2 Side. 1 83 1 TO HIS WIFE 245 the New Road comes that old unresting hum of carriage-wheels and quadrupeds and bipeds : if I look out I see upwards the beautiful top of St. Pancras Steeple against the sky ; downwards a flagged snug little street mostly of shops ; among which figures "the Cheapest Shop in the world for Combs and Brushes " — alas ! with its windows closed, and inwardly a mere vacuum of Bankruptcy. Many a half-laugh, half-greet has that poor " Cheapest Shop in the world " caused me : here too was a little ad- venture, great as the finding of America, for its adventurer ; with resolute daring, the poor little fellow bent him to the emprize ; took the Devil also into partnership, and tried puffing : but it would not do ; day after day the prospect grew darker, till it ended in utter midnight, and now, as we perceive, he has bankraped and gone out of sight ! ^ Stands it not like a little Siste Viator, as a warning to us also ? May the gods avert the omen ! At all events, the Devil shall not be of our firm : neither will we wait till midnight, but retire at sunset. So fear nothing. However it is not of my local environment but of myself and history that Goody is curious to hear. Listen then, Goodykin, and thou shalt learn Biographical facts unparalleled in import- ance since the times of P. P. Clerk of this 1 " To ' bankrape^ is to ' bankrupt' (used as a verb passive). ' And then he bankrapit, and gaed out 0' sicht : ' a phrase of my Father's in the httle sketches of Annandale biography he would sometimes give me." — T. C. in Letters and Memorials, i. 4. 246 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE . 1831 Parish.^ — And yet why should I mock even over myself and my doings ? To one true heart they are infinitely important ; in them- selves therefore as great as Moscow Retreats and Battles of Austerlitz ; or very little smaller, for the whole Planet is extremely small. My Josephine I reckon is the greater of the two. . . . Tuesday morning my first work was to write off to the Longmans for a copy of that Hope's Book ;^ to which application I have yet had no manner of answer. . . . The poor Author is dead : he sent to his Publisher (Murray), some little time before his death, solemnly taking leave of him, and entrusting that Work to his friendly care. It is full of heterodoxy and scepticism. Whether it will do for a conduit to any of my meditations I doubt : but should like to know. Naso evidently wants me to write : so either on this or something I ere long will. It is my far best course for the time. By and by, I think, there will a new seed arise to do the world ser- vice in quite another fashion : nay I can partly see it already sprouting. . . . — That same morning I saw the noble Lady ^ for a moment ; 1 P. P. Clerk of this Parish, the feigned author of Arbuth- not's well-known satire burlesquing Bishop Burnett's History of His Own Time. ^ An Essay on the Origin and Prospects of Man, by Thomas Hope (3 vols. 8vo), which Napier had recommended Carlyle to review. " The perhaps absurdest book written in our century by a thinking man," forgotten now except as having furnished a text for the " striking paper " Characteristics. 5 Mrs. Montagu. 1 83 1 TO HIS WIFE 247 learned that her Daughter was recovering ; and got the Museum Letter from her, wherewith in few minutes more I had procured a ticket for myself, and was reading on my own basis. It is a quite capital Library : you shall go too, if you have " any talent." The sights in the place one can see without ticket. At night John Mill came in, and sat talking with me till near eleven : a fine, clear enthusiast, who will one day come to something. Yet to nothing Poetical, I think : his fancy is not rich ; furthermore he cannot laugh with any compass. You will like Mill. Glen^ is a man of greatly more natural material ; but hitherto he is like a blind Cyclops, ill edu- cated, yet capable of good education : he may perhaps reap great profit from us ; as at least he is well-disposed to do. Three days ago he left me six cigars, and went off to the North : he will perhaps be at Craigenputtock ! I said within two weeks he would find you there, and 1 Carlyle wrote to his Mother, 25th D'ecember 1831 : "One of the most interesting sights we see is that of some young men struggling to escape from the general baseness : one of the strangest of them is a certain W. Glen, a friend of Jack's, born near Craigenputtock, but last from Glasgow, and now struggling forward here to be an Advocate. He has neither father nor mother, nor kith nor kin, but one young Brother, a Clerk in Glasgow. He is almost distracted with the perplexities that have encumbered him ; a man of really wonderful gifts, which he can no way turn to use. Perhaps I can do him some good : at all events he is unspeakably grateful, and looks up to me almost as his Prophet. Last night he was near kissing me!" Glen afterwards became insane, and was boarded at a farm near Craigenputtock. The Carlyles were very kind to him ; Carlyle read Homer with him, and taught him geometry. He died some seven or eight years after this time. 248 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 might ride over from Kirkpatrick (where he is to visit). . . . Rejoicing in my Goody and her love and tidings of departure, I set out with a frank in my pocket to make another clutch at Murray. The Dog was standing on the floor when I entered, and could not escape me ! He is the slipperiest, lamest, most confused unbusinesslike man I have seen. Nevertheless poor Dreck was in few minutes settled, or put on the way of settlement : I got a line to his printer (miles off ! it is Clowes, who used to do the Foreign Review) ; found him ; expounded to him ; and finally about two in the afternoon saw Dreck on the way to the Printing Office, and can hope to get the first page of him to-morrow ! Perhaps a week may elapse (per- haps less, so exceedingly irregular is Murray) before we be fairly under steady way : after which a month or so will roll it all off my hands, and Dreck will lie in Sheets till his hour come. Murray speaks of the " beginning of the year" for Publication : he is the best judge of that, and will lose no time when the accounts are running on against him. For the present, as he alto- gether piteously waileth, not a Book, not a volume of any sort can he sell ; it is all dead, and done, and gone to the Devil, — as it ought to be. I am even glad that I have got the poor Book sent to press on these terms : Irving, and many others, have lost considerable moneys by their Books ! So stands it with the sect named "Literary Men" in this best of all possible ei-as. Happy that we have still a kail 1831 TO HIS WIFE 249 garden, fertile in potherbs, and a whinstone castle that resists the weather, let Bookselling go as it will ! Depend on it, Jeannie, that is no small blessing even now : one's heart might almost fail him, if he stood otherwise [than] we do. Poor Puttock ! Castle of many chagrins ; peatbog Castle, where the Devil never slumbers nor sleeps ! very touching art thou to me when I look on thy image here, and fancy my Goody within thee. The Frankfort picture of Craigenputtock, and Teufelsdreck written there, under the eye of the Flower of Haddington ! Be kind to the poor House, and charge Betty to take care of it. I shall always look upon it with a mixture of love, horror, and amazement ; a quite supernatural abode, more like Hades than the Earth. Yet God be thanked : " my whinstone house my Castle is ; I have my own Four Walls." Perhaps few living Authors have their position so curiously fortified and adjusted. Properly speaking the History has now reached down to the present hour, and must ter- minate here. . . . Of the Bullers, of the Austins nothing. All the world "is out of Town."— Bring the flesh-brush (it is in the drawer of our dress- ing closet) ; and the poor tin mull^ of tooth- powder. I love that tin mull more than I could a golden one ; I assure thee far more : it was bought for three half-pence, in the West Bow, by Goody ! Poor Goody, dear Goody ! Ottilie's Semainiere'^ might be of some nse here, were 1 Box. 2 A. gift from Ottilie von Goethe. — See Correspondence between Goethe and Carfyle, p. 149. 250 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLVLE 1831 you not afraid of spoiling it — which perhaps you ought to be. The Hatbrush you will remember. I think of nothing more. — Neither will I add any more. I daresay you are reading my Letter about this very time : at Craigenputtock or Templand ? I cannot ascertain ; but know that you are glad of it somewhere, and thinking of me. Think always of me, and remember that properly you are part of me, are /. God bless thee, Darling ! Good night ; and dream that I am kind to thee, happy or not. Thursday morning. Dearest, on considera- tion I find nothing better that I can do than finish out my Letter, and so give you what you deserve, the top of the morning. I had thoughts of pilgriming down to the Strand first, in search of Hope's Book : but it lies at such a distance, and will cut me up for the day ; besides it lies partly on the road to DrecMs Printer, with whom I shall require one or more personal discussions before we get fairly afloat, and Dreck, whatever it may do, is not come yet. Perhaps, indeed, the Longmans, though that is not very likely, may send up the Volumes, or at least, as I requested, instruct me where they are best to be come at. On the whole, I say always, take thy way O World, and I will take mine ; do whatsoever seemeth good unto thee, and I also will do .the like. At present it is my sovereign will to write to Goody ; in the course of a little while it is further my purpose to com- mence periodical writing (that I may live there- by), which commencement no Longman ox 1 83 1 TO HIS WIFE 251 Shortman or any other man or body of men shall finally succeed in obstructing. So let them look to it ; for the edict is published De par le roi / I mention first to avoid dubieties, that Jack has got his Bill ;^ much to his joy, I should think. ... I had some particles of business to touch upon (as for example the bringing of my worthy shaving-jug) ; and innumerable trivialities to utter trustfully to my kind Goody's heart : but here enters the Doctor Fuseli (Painter Fuseli'-s nephew, whom I suppose you heard of before) ; he brings a ticket to go and see the Mint, at 1 1^ o'clock, and will take no excuse but a busi- ness one : so why should I not go ? The Printer has failed of his hour ; let him now wait for me. And cannot Goody go with us ? Ach nein ! not till she come : which, however, shall be soon. Adieu, then, Darling ! I shall be back before Post time ; and add a word. J^our d clock. After three hours and a half of toilsome journeying, we return, having seen the Mint. The Keeper was a friend of Badams's, knew us when named, and was very civil. It is a strange thing, more especially the stamping part of it. You too shall see it all if you like. Fuseli who is the most copious of talkers, sat with us till we had dinner, in which under the name of lunch, he participated. . . . Heaven grant that poor Goody take no feverish fits or other ailments till she get beside me! You have really been leading a most 1 Forty pounds, lent him by his brother Alick. 252 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 183 1 unreasonable life, out of one ailment into another ; enough to make any one sick. Do sleep, if it be possible. Why such hurry ? There is plenty of time coming ; long nights of winter, and what Time brings us in them. . . . Edward Irving is not returned yet. He is graver than usual ; yet has still the old faculty of laughter. On the whole, a true, sufficient kind of man ; very anxious to have me stay here ; where "in two years or so," I should not fail to find some appointment. What I lament is that such a mind should not be in the van, but wilfully standing in the rear bringing up the tagrag-and-bobtail, however well he do it. " Miracles " are the commonest things in the world here : Irving said to Glen : " When I work miracles." He and I have never fastened upon that topic yet ; but by and by he shall hear my whole mind on it, for he deserves such confidence. . . . But I have a little note to write for Jane,^ and not another moment to spare, were my paper far larger. Good by'e, my Dearest ! Heaven send thee safe to me, and soon. Take every care of thyself, Wifekin : there is more than thy own that thou carriest with thee. A thousand kisses ; and Farewells, which will soon be Welcomes ! — Ever thy own Good, T. Carlyle. 1 His sister. i83i TO HIS MOTHER 253 LXXVI. — To his Mother, Scotsbrig. London, i<)th September 1831. My dear Mother — Jane, who I hope and believe has been a dihgent correspondent to you of late, told me in her last Letter not to write to-day, that she might not have the pain of expecting with the risk of expecting in vain. I had previously been of mind to have a Letter waiting for her at Ecclefechan ; fancying, as 1 still partly do, that she must be at Scotsbrig when this arrives : however, I will now address the whole to you, so that if she be not there, we may still find ourselves in the right. The little Note, which I put in along with this for my good Wifie, is not of any special moment : if she have left you, it can lie safely till we come back to seek it, — which period, I trust, is not at any very great distance. Let us hope also that we shall come back with no evil tidings, and not to hear any ! These are strange wanderings and shiftings we have in this world ; where indeed, as was long ago written, there is "no continuing city " to be looked for. At this very hour, as I calcu- late, my Jane and my "little Jane" will be journeying (I hope under some sort of escort) towards Scotsbrig, to be there against tea-time ; Jack is down below making ready for a Journey to Italy (getting his Italian lesson even now) ; Alick is somewhere between Craigenputtock and Scotsbrig, or at one or the other ; the rest are perhaps thatching ricks, or perhaps there 254 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 are several still to build, this fine day : and here am I, sitting towards the summit of this monstrous brick wilderness (for this is among the highest points of it) uttering a sort of " gathering cry " to remind us all of one another ! Happily the great Father is near us all, unless we wilfully withdraw from Him.^ Jane will have told you how languidly everything proceeds here with me; how the "■people are all out of town"; everything stag- nating because of this Reform Bill ; the book- trade in particular nearly altogether at a stand- still ; and lastly, how I, as the best thing I could do, have been obliged to give my poor Book away (that is the first edition of it ; whether there will ever be a second is to try for), and am even glad to see it printed on these terms. ^ This is not very flattering news of the en- couragement for men of my craft : nevertheless I study to say with as much cheerfulness as I can, Be it so / The Giver of all Good has enabled me to write the thing ; and also to do without any pay for it : the pay would have wasted away, and " flitted out of the bit," ^ as other pay does ; but if there stand any Truth recorded there, it will not " flit." Nay, if there be even no Truth (as where is the man that can say with confidence. The inspiration of the Almighty has given me understanding), yet it 1 The three following paragraphs are printed, less incorrectly than usual, hut with unnoted omissions, in Froude's Life, ii. 201. 2 Even this scheme failed. ^ Flitted away from the place. i83i TO HIS MOTHER 255 was the nearest approach to such that I could make, and so, in God's name, let it take its fortune in the world, and sink or swim, as the All-disposer orders. True remains forever the maxim : In all thy ways acknowledge Him. I am earnestly expecting Jane ; that some sort of establishment may be formed here, where we can spend the Winter with more regularity and composure than I have hitherto enjoyed. This Lodging does not look to me as if it would do ; but I form no positive scheme till she come and look at it. Some comfortable enough place can be had for about the same money : there we can look about us over this whirlpool ; superintend the printing of our " bit Book"; and I, in the meantime, shall most probably write some considerable essay for the Edinburgh Review; that so, when we return, ■mall may not be altogether out of shaft, but capable of being wedged in again, and lustily beaten with. Of any permanent appointment here I as yet see (with my own eyes) not the slightest outlook : neither indeed is my heart set on such ; for I feel that the King's Palace with all it holds would in good truth do little for me ; and the Prayer I ever endeavour to make is : Shew me my Duty, and enable me to do it. If my Duty be to endure a life of Poverty, and what "light afflictions" attend on it, this also will not terrify me. However I have some friends here, and reckon that there must be various capabilities in such a scene : all these I will endeavour to see better before I leave it. 256 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 Meanwhile I am not without my comforts : one of the greatest of which is to -have found various well-disposed men, most of them young men, who even feel a sort of scholarship to- wards me. My poor performances in the writing way are better known here than I ex- pected : clearly enough also there is want of instruction and light in this mirk midnight of human affairs, such want as probably for eighteen hundred years there has not been : if / have any light to give, then let me give it ; if none then what is to be done but seek for it, and hold my peace till I find it ? For the rest be not afraid, dear Mother, that I am not well "taken care of." I have the inestimable possession (for inestimable it truly is) to have a Wife that faithfully loves me, and faitTifully loves what is Right so far as she can see it : assure yourself she will take good care of me ; such care as was never taken by any but you. She is also a gleg, little, managing, orderly creature, beyond almost any other : doubt not she will sweep and garnish our little cell, and we shall sit as warm there as any pair can expect or require. The great duty for you therefore is to forward her on her way : if she is with you when this comes, help her swiftly and smoothly forward by the frsi steamboat, and let her hasten to me with your blessing. Per- haps about this day week I shall have her here So soon as we get into lodgings and see our- selves in any measure settled I will write to you again ; and regularly through the winter ; once i83i TO HIS MOTHER 257 in the month at seldomest, oftener if there be any occurrence of moment. What I want much to impress upon you, at the same time, is the great necessity of your also writing to me. I sent a little Note to Jane,^ stipulating that she was to fill me a sheet monthly, with such help as she could get, or with her own hand if she could get none : I beg of you to insist upon this, if it be practicable ; however, my writing shall not depend on hers ; for I know how she is situated, and how short the deed must fall of the will. Once a month nevertheless I think she may manage ; and I know that if she under- take she will perform. From Alick I expect to learn all that passes at Craigenputtock : if Jamie were not a man among ten thousand, he also would take up the pen for me ; tell him that he must and shall, it is a true shame for him other- wise. There is little room here to tell you about any one save myself; Jack is now, his Italian master being gone, writing to my Father, as I understand, an account of all his goings, which I hope will prove satisfactory. I can still say that I think him much improved ; grown in- deed, in several respects, into a man; and that I look forward to much good for him. He seems to me to have in him the elements of a valuable Physician, which next to a Teacher or Priest, who is a Physician of the Soul, I reckon the highest character in this world : what you will prize still higher, he seems to have some Rever- 1 His sister. 2S8 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 ence of the Highest in him, and has been look- ing into his eternal interests with much more seriousness than I had seen him do before. Let us hope good of poor Doil, and that all these aberrations and endurances, of which he has had his share, may turn to his great profit. His Countess still pleases him well, he has a pleasant prospect before him for the present, and some distinct outlook into the future. My Leddy and I are talking of some trip into Cornwall, to see the Bullers for a week or two, till the Town get busy again : but this is very problematic, and will depend some little on the Letter I get from them ; which, having written again, I now expect this week. At all events we shall go out to Badams's for a few days ; it is only twelve miles off, and they are honestly desirous to see us. Edward Irving I meet with very often. He is kinder, stiller than usual ; a very good man, and not at all what I can name an unwise one, though surely but ill-informed, with such a crowd of crack- brained zealots and "silly women" about him, shrieking out at his prayer -meetings, and clavering^ downright jargon, which they name Gift of the Holy Ghost, and Speaking with Tongues ! I must now, my dear Mother, bid you again good day. Fear not that I shall forget to write : it is among my best duties, and best pleasures. Remember me in kindest love to all of them from my Father down to Jenny. God bless ^ Prating noisily and foolishly. 1 83 1 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 259 you all, and be ever near you! — Your affec- tionate Son, T. Carlyle. LXXVII. — To Alexander Carlyle, Craigenputtock. 4 Ampton Street, Mecklenburg Square, London, \t,th October 1831. My dear Brother — . . . You are already aware that Jane arrived safe here ; that we have got into new Lodgings, which I may now mention are very quiet and comfort- able. My health continues much what it used to be at Craigenputtock, tolerable enough : the only real ground of complaint is, that I can yet get' on with no work. My whole affairs are so scattered hither and thither, the whole environment is so strange : however, I must gird myself up resolutely, and begin, " new bode new play." ^ I have two or three Essays on the anvil for Napier's Review ; and will be through them one way or another. My poor Book, as you have perhaps heard, cannot be printed at present ; for this plain reason, all Bookselling is at an end, till once this Reform Bill of theirs be passed. So, after duly vexatious trial, I have locked up my Manu- script here beside me ; and mean to let it lie at least till next month before making any further attempt. So influential even on me are the follies of the noodle Legislators, with their pro- 1 New stake, new play. 26o LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 rogations and their stuff", — all which, it is to be hoped, will one day find their true place and value. Meanwhile we have plenty of people to see and study: the Montagus, the Irvings, Badamses, Jeffreys ; as well as sundry new acquaintances, the number of which must con- siderably enlarge as the Town gets peopled again in November. . . . Of place or promotion, I think, there is little chance for me in London, or anywhere : how- ever, I am still disposed to believe that I ought to lift up my voice among this benighted mul- titude, in the way of lecturing or otherwise ; and may very probably do if, if no better may be, had I ascertained the ground a little better. — A Letter has come this moment inviting me to dine next wefek with the Editor of the Examiner, whom I am rather ambitious to know. I will tell you about him, if he be worth telling about. . . . Now, however, I nestle down out of in- finite Space, into one little corner thereof; and try to picture for myself some image of your being at the solitary Craig. I hope you and Jenny and your little Jane Welsh ^ are all thriv- ing there ; and doing whatsoever you feel to be worthy and best, which is the only true blessed- ness. O my dear Brother, keep a watch over your footsteps : man walks on the very brink of unfathomable abysses always ; if he swerve but a little to the right hand or left, he sinks and is 1 Alick Carlyle's wife and infant daughter. i83i TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 261 swallowed for ever ! The good God has hitherto preserved us all in some measure : let us while we live front the world as honest men and as wise, be the rest how it may. . . . One thing I must long for : to see you once more fixed with a home and employment ; now that you have a family, it is doubly important for you, and may be doubly profitable. I trust the little Daughter whom Heaven has sent you may form the beginning of a new Epoch in your life. There is much good in you, and about you : do you faithfully study to bring it out purer and purer. Be humble and meek ; we are all too proud, and Pride truly is of the Devil. — I shall be very anxious to know what you do with Dairlaw Hills : the neighbourhood to Scotsbrig is a great recommendation : farming truly is a bad trade ; but which trade is better ? A man must fight through it. . . . LXXVIII. — To Dr. Carlyle, Turin. 4 Ampton Street, Mecklenburg Square, London, iist October 1831. My dear Brother — . . . Napier writes that he "trusts to me for a striking Paper in the December Number" — and yesterday I was at length favoured with a copy of Hope from the Longmans : so that certainly I must at length bestir myself; but how or on what subject I shall write has nowise become clear to me. Scribbling (Notes upon MuUner, etc.) is what I have practised every 262 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 day since you left us ; but hitherto am quite out of sorts for writing; all hampered and hemmed in, not in the least at home, I know the disease of old, and know also the remedy. Doubtless, if I stay here, there is much to be done : I am even seriously turning over the scheme of lecturing; and think I could do it and with profit were my lips once unsealed. The gross groping ignorance in which I descry many, almost all, seems to invite and demand me. We shall look at the arena first, and then measure ourselves with it. — As to Teufelsdreck, I may conclude this first section of his history in few words. Murray, on my renewed demand some days after your departure, forwarded me the Manuscript with a polite enough note, and a " Criticism " from some altogether immortal "master of German Literature," to me quite unknown ; which Criticism (a miserable, Dan- diacal quodlibet, in the usual vein) did not authorise the Publication in these times. Whereupon, inspecting the Paper to ascertain that it was all there, we (my good Lady and I) wrapped all up, and laid it by under lock and key, to wait patiently for better times, or if so were ordered, to the end of times : and then despatching a very cordial - looking note to Murray, wound up the whole matter, not with- out composure of soul. Now that the Reform Bill is all to begin again, it may for aught I know be months before the Trade experience any revival ; thus Dreck may perhaps be con- sidered as postponed sine die : with which 1 83 1 TO DR. CARLYLE ■2.(12, result also I am perfectly contented. What I have written I have written : the reading of it is another party's concern. — In the economical point of view, I know not whether this other small occurrence be worth mentioning : that Montagu (whom we see sometimes quite over- flowing with "blessings") kept rather annoying me with urgencies that I would "apply to the Lord Advocate for the Registratorship in one of the Six new Bankruptcy Courts " ; whereupon at last I did transmit one of the noble Lady's Notes on that subject to his Advocateship, and further formally called upon Montagu to testify by Letter (if his conscience permitted) that I was fitted for the station. Since which time I have at least been rid of the Montagu importunities (for the matter has never once been hinted at) ; Jeffrey engaged to speak of it, but seemed to think with myself that there was hardly any hope in it ; and so there it rests, in all human probability nothing rhore than a miserable " chimera," — with which, however, as I have done all that depended on myself, and did indeed care very little for success in it, I give myself no manner of uneasiness. . . . [Mill] and I were, last night, for the first time, at Fonblanque's ; dining there. Fonblanque lives far away in the Edge ware Road ; and is still lame with his Gig-fall. He has a delightful Housekin, with offices, etc. ... He himself standing on crutches, all braced round with straps (of what seemed cloth-listing) received me very handsomely : a long, thin flail of a man, with 264 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 wintry zealous -looking eyes ; lank, thin hair, wide, small-chinned mouth, baggy, wrinkly care- accustomed face ; greatly the air of a Radical. I observed that he had a high forehead, and low crown ; as in Milliner's head. We had a pleasant, discursive sitting ; about Scotch scenery, Buonaparte, Cobbett, Immorality, and the Tax on Tobacco. I volunteered to call again (for he can call nowhere), which was warmly welcomed. Nothing great will ever come of the man ; no genial relation will ever spring up between us : yet he is worth being known, and honoured in his way ; jeder an seiner S telle. Mill promises me two other friends : small deer, as I dread ; yet will I see them gladly, being niemals menschenscheu, as was Schmelzle's case too. On the whole, this London is the most twilight intellectual city you could meet with : a meaner, more utterly despicable view of man and his interests than stands pictured even in the better heads you could nowhere fall in with. . . . — Your faithful Brother, T. Carlyle. LXXIX. — To his Mother, Scotsbrig. 4 Ampton Street, Mecklenburg Square, London, Thursday, xoth November 1831, My dear Mother — . . . There is no doubt but these are threatening times, full of risk and distress : a country agitated with political discontent, with economical embarrass- ment ; the lower orders, straitened by want, exasperated by disappointment, all ready for i83i TO HIS MOTHER 265 any kind of change, whether by revolt or otherwise ; nowhere any Wisdom, any Faith- fulness to give them counsel ; and now while the dark Winter is setting in, a pestilential malady arrived on our coasts, to carry off doubtless many into the land of Silence ! Truly may we say, God's judgments are abroad on the Earth : it behoves us all, and each of us for himself to think deeply of it, and so far as strength is given us, with our whole heart, to "consider our ways and be wise." Nevertheless there is always this strong tower of Defence, that it is of God's ordering ; that not a hair of our head, of the very meanest head, can fall to the ground without His com- mand ; and the Faith, which is the beginning and the end of Knowledge, teaches us that He commands all things well. The greater too ought to be our thankfulness, that we, as a household and kindred, are all spared ; and still called only to sympathise with these miseries, not to share in them. Such thoughts, often or rather always more or less distinctly present in my mind, arm me as with triple steel against all the mad vicissitudes of this mad Existence ; which I look upon rather as a heavy Dream, wherefrom, when the Night is past, we shall awaken to a fair Morning ! God is great ; God also is good : this is the sum-total of all the Wisdom I could ever learn. . . . 266 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 183 1 LXXX. — To Dr. Carlyle, Florence. London, i^th Novetnber 1831. My dear Brother — ... I fully agree with you that Employment would be the best of all medicines for : neither is Employment, or can it be in a world existing by Labour, impos- sible to find, whether for Peasantess or Princess. Unfortunately, however, it is often very difificult to find : thus Swing burns ricks, thus Byron writes Satanic Poetry. What man wants is always that the Highest in his nature be set at the top, and actively reign there. Did seem imbued with a religious feeling, were it only in the "lean and narrow" style of , the road to wholesome Activity (such as Beneficence, Self-culture, conscientious creation of the Good), and thereby to peace of mind, were easier ; for there you have a vehicle, though now a some- what crazy one. In any case, she has a moral nature, wherein lies the root of weal or woe : this could you but awaken and aliment with fit food, you were her lasting highest benefactor. Perhaps in German Literature (as Literature is now our only symbol of the Highest, and German our only Literature) there may lie some hope. . . . By no means neglect to keep a journal : you will understand everything the better as well as remember it the better. It is not every one that can see Florence ; go at evening to the top of Fiesole, wander in Val d'Arno, or among the 1 83 1 TO DR. CARLYLE 267 autumnal leaves of Vallombrosa ; or gaze on the Medici Gallery and the Moses of Michel Angelo and the Perseus of friend Benvenuto. Tell me a little about all this ; but chiefly of your humane relations, of yourself and your Be- finden and Umgebung, for "it is man only that interests man," much more brother that interests brother. I will send on your Letters to Scots- brig, unless you wish otherwise : any secret thing you can put in some foreign language by your "gift of tongues." I was much instructed by your sketches of Saint-Simonism ; concerning which I do not differ far from you in opinion or prediction. It is an upholstery aggregation, not a Pro- methean creation ; therefore cannot live long : yet -the very attempt to rebuild the old dilapidated Temple, were it only with deals and canvas, is significant. . . , I have been endeavouring with some zeal to get a piece of writing done (on the " Philosophy of this Era ") ; but find my hand quite dreadfully out, and must still almost despair of getting honourably through it. I find myself to a strange extent the servant of Habits ; wherein lies a Poverty, yet also a Wealth, for the chief price of anything is its pretium, affectionis. I will not give in ; once for all will not : that is the only course. AcA Gott! this is a thorny miry path one has to travel ; and so dark, so intricate ! Nevertheless, forward ! forward ! I am still meditating some sort of lecture-work : but as yet it lies at a great distance ; my tongue 268 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 is Still tacked: could one but "cut it with a six- pence," as they do to speaking Birds, and so give me utterance ! — Meanwhile I continue to look about me, and meet here and there with hopeful things. Chiefly among the young : the elder are hide-bound, and have ceased to grow or be green. Glen, as you heard, is returned ; and bids fair (in spite of the Montagu prog- nostication) to be a favourite with the Leddy here : I have appointed John Mill to meet him next Wednesday night, and shall see what relation springs up between them. I have also lent him Teufelsdreck to read ; which wonder- ful Book I am again cautiously bestirring myself to get printed, for the " season " has begun, and in rather brisker style than was anticipated. By and by I shall take more decisive steps. — Buller also has come to town ; in him too I have some hope. Mill I continue to like : I met with a fresh lot of youths last week by his intervention : one Taylor ^ (of the Colonial Office) was the centre of the group, and is to see me again ; the rest were Hyde Villiers (a Member), his Brother, and one Elliot, all Diplomatists; wholly pleasant young men, — by whom the world will not be made or unmade. We had a gay breakfast however (from Taylor, in Grosvenor Street), and I did not regret my walk. . . . 1 See Autobiography of Henry Taylor for his mention of Carlyle (i. 325), and for an account of some of these men (i. 73-80). See also Carlyle's Reminiscences, ii. 278, for a description of Henry Taylor. 1 83 1 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 269 LXXXI. — To Alexander Carlyle, Craigenputtock. 4 Ampton Street, Mecklenburg Square, London, 2^tk November iZ^i. My dear Alick — Your Letter arrived here duly, and was received and read with the heartiest welcome ; as by persons long shut out from all tidings, and greatly in want of such. I would have written sooner in answer, had there been anything practical to tell that seemed worth postage : but the old Newspaper every Wednesday would indicate that we were " in the old way," which is the main business of a Letter; and I still waited for franks, for more time, etc. etc., and did not "put pen to paper this night." It is an evil habit ; do not you imitate me in it : the Letter of a Brother is always worth its post- age, so long as one has money left. To-day, however, there is an actual frank to Templand forthcoming (for Jeffrey, who at present lives in the country, called this forenoon) : so you will get this even cheaper. I suspend my Review scribbling, for a far more pleasant kind ; and send you a hasty word before going to sleep. ... I think it every way desirable that you should soon be settled. Your late way of life has been trying for you in many ways : but now were you once set agoing there Is a much fairer chance ; you will be altogether free ; and as a Husband and Father feel new obligation to do your best and wisest. Let us be of good 270 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 courage : this ever remains true, nothing but ourselves can finally beat us ; it is not want of good Fortune, want of Happiness, but want of Wisdom that man has to dread. God keep us all, and guide us all ! A toilsome stern life has been appointed the most of us ; let us not falter or fall asleep by the way, but struggle forward, be the road thorny or smooth. You must have grown very still and even dead at Craigenputtock by this day of the year : often I fancy the sepulchral silence of the spot ; it comes strangely into my thoughts in this soul- and-body-deafening tumult of the "noble city." News we hope you have" none (for there good news seldom arrive) ; but that little Jane Welsh is still brisk and noisy, her mother in motion and well ; and you working, or profitably resting, and like " a constitutional king," nowise like a military despot, beneficently ruling over both. By the way, I could not but sympathise with the little creature, in her looking at you with recognition, but evidently with fear. Poor little foreigner ! this is a very strange country it has arrived in, and it knows not what devilry may be abroad, or who means kindly, who unkindly. Be thankful for the mysterious little Present ; and regard it as the message of God to you, and the pledge of new blessings and new duties. ... I wrote on the Newspaper a request that you would pay Betty her wages ; which I daresay you have done or will do. I hope also you have settled with the smith, in some way 1831 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 271 that satisfies your own convictions : Currie's debt for the cart-shaft had been often in my head, and I am glad that you paid it. I re- member also that I owed Hiddlestane some three shillings or so for raking the seed into the front green : if you have any opportunity, you might pay him : we will settle about all these matters when you produce your list of outlays in spring. Jane finally bids me mention that she directed Betty to raise^ the four beds of carrots, and send the produce of two of them over to Templand for Harry : ^ if Betty have not done this, will you "take that trouble " by your first convenience ? This, I think, is all I have to remind you of about the Moorlands ; from whose stern solitude I may now turn to more populous regions. . . . As for ourselves we are struggling on here without notable adventure of any kind. Our lodging and way of life continues quite passable ; far better than one could hope. . . . The " Cholera Pestilence " [does not] give us much terror : we will fly from it, if it come into our neighbourhood, and grow perilous ; but other- wise, as I often say, " What is the good of Fear ? The whole solar system were it to fall together about our ears could kill us only once!' — People ' are all quiet as yet ; in great anxieties about their Reform Bill ; and not unlikely, as I cal- culate, to get into some convulsions, one day, before^ all be done : but for the present there are no symptoms of it, neither is it I chiefly that 1 Dig. 2 Mi-s. Carlyle's pony, wintered at Templand. 272 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 need apprehend such a thing : so long as they leave me the head standing on my shoulders, my main possessions in this world are left uninjured. God knows what will be the end of all this ; the end will not be seen in our day. Nothing has been done yet about the Book, except speaking a little from afar. However, the publishing season is now begun, and I mean soon to make a new trial. I shall still be disap- pointed, if I do not bring it home to you printed: it will only be that I could not get a printer. Meanwhile, I am not altogether idle : we see plenty of people, and get some slight knowledge of their ways (though this is very difficult to come at). . . . Perhaps my best plan will be to spend the summer in writing out my " Notes" at Puttock, and then come hither next winter, and speak aloud "in defiance of all men and things. — For the present I am busy enough with a Paper (of no great length) for the Edin- burgh Review ; which straitens me greatly ; my hand is quite out, and "this is no my ain house," where I can work as I was wont, in any sense. However, after struggling and floundering enough, I am at last getting on ; and hope to be through in some three weeks. O that I were ! ... Of Irving I have got little good for the last two months ; have not had so much as a sight for these three weeks : he does not come hither, and to go to him, and find the "Holy Ghost" raging about him like Bedlam is no inviting journey. Poor Irving ! 1 83 1 TO Alexander carlyle 273 I am in real anxiety about him : it is thought that he will soon lose his Church (the sane part of his people being quite shocked) ; and actually runs a risk himself of ending in the Madhouse ! God prevent it ! One is struck with a painful mixture of grief, scorn,, and indignation to think of the end he seems hastening towards, and the company he has chosen. — But now, dear Alick, I must draw bridle, for obvious reasons. In- deed, it is far in the night : I could not afford to wait till to-morrow, having a daily task to do, which of itself will perhaps exceed my ability. So good night, my dear Brother ! May nothing worse than poor little Jane Welsh Carlyle ever break your sleep. Also do not, like Selkirk, forget to speak. Write to me soon, very soon. Jane sends her kindest wishes to both of you. All good be ever with you all! Your Brother, T. Carlyle. LXXXII. — To Alexander Carlyle, Craigenputtock. 4 Ampton Street, London, 4M December 1831. . . . With regard to that Money, about which you so vex yourself, let me beg of you once for all to consider it, what it was from the first, as a thing finally settled, and on which nothing more is to be said. The half of the sum you have, or the whole of it, or twice as much, would do nothing permanent for me ; and to you it is of importance, as a beginning of Life : therefore. 274 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 my dear Brother, let me hear nothing more of it ; but set yourself agoing with it, and suffer me to enjoy peaceably the small comfort, that here for once I have contributed to do my Brother a little good. We will settle up all little matters in Spring ; then mark the amount on some paper document, and so have finally done with it. . . . I have little to tell you of myself; but that little happily not evil. I am but in a dwamish,^ weakly way here (so far as spiritual health goes), quite out of sorts for writing ; and have had a most miserable, feckless ^ kind of struggle to get under way with writing. People come in upon me, and all that ; then I have no privacy, as I was wont at Puttock, there to lash myself into a heat : here I must even hobble along sprained as I am. However I persevere, through good weather and through bad. The thing I am writing is a sort of second Signs of the Times ; I expect it will perhaps be in the next Number of the Edin- burgh : and I hope to have done with it, this day two weeks, when one gladdish man there will be in this city. I shall meddle with nothing more till I have a better workshop. As to Lecturing, the encouragement is small I find, and nothing could be prudently ventured in that way as yet : none but quacks have ever been known to lecture here ; so the whole thing has an unpromising aspect to all I speak of it with. In other respects my outlooks are 1 Sickly. 2 Spiritless. 1 83 1 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 275 exactly what they were : into Vacuity, into Nothingness. However, I am not without some Faith ; some Faith in myself (be God ever thanked for it !) ; neither does it seem as if this world could be quite dead for me, but I have a thing or two to do here. I believe I could speak too ; and shall perhaps one day actually try it ; but not till I see what the meaning of it is. — I am again among the Booksellers with my Manuscript : but have yet got nothing fixed ; not even my first refusal. You shall hear about it when anything occurs. These are ungainly times ; and must be worse, for the like of me, before they can be better. Forward ! Forward ! Not the quantity of Pleasure we have had, but the quantity of Victory we have gained, of Labour we have overcome : that is the happiness of Life. Let us on, then, in God's name ! — I am close on the end of my sheet, dear Brother, and had in- numerable things to say. Would I had a frank; but there is none within my reach. — Jane has not been very strong, with colds and what not ; but is now better ; and ever assiduous, clear and faithful, a very precious little Wifie ; any other woman might have gone mad beside me. She likes London, and all my bits of friends, though some of them are not of the greatest sort of characters ; and this City, espe- cially in these months, is damp, raw-frosty and reeky beyond measure. Your very nostrils are filled with soot. — Give our truest wishes to Jenny; be glad and thankful and cheerful 276 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 towards the little stranger ; and all good and happy ! — Ever your affectionate Brother, T. Carlyle. . . . Some wretches are "burking"^ poor stragglers here : three miscreants are to be hanged for that crime to-morrow morning. This is my birth -night; my thirty - sixth ! May the worst of our days be over ; at all events the foolishest ! LXXXIII. — To Miss Jane Carlyle, Seotsbrig. London, 7.1th December 1831. My dear Jane — I borrowed a frank for you yesterday, expecting to have a little moment of time, when I might thank you for your punctual and so highly welcome Letters ; and send a word or two in the shape of tidings, which at Seotsbrig, I know, are never superfluous. It now turns out that I have very little time : however, I will make the most of it. Your last letter gave us both very great pleasure : it brought gratifying tidings of the welfare of those ever dear to us ; it was also most sensibly and well put together ; wholly a thing creditable to you. Continue to keep your eyes open : what else has one any hope in, but to think as earnestly as we have power; and then having thought, and ascertained how matters lie, and what they mean, to do, with our whole might, and quickly, whatsoever our hand 1 See ante, p. 138.' Burke's crime added a word to the language. i83i TO MISS JANE CARLYLE 277 findeth to do. Properly, as I often say, there is no loss in this world, but even that same so frequent in it, the loss of head. An individual without understanding, wandering about with- out light to his path, is a truly hopeless figure ; other miserable mortal there is, strictly speak- ing, none. I expect great things of you, as I have often hinted : nothing less than this, that you will prove wise and true ; and in what sphere soever you find yourself, act honourably the part assigned you there. This is the highest blessedness ; found by few in these sad days ; and yet, if we consider it, there is now or at any period no other possible for us. Be kind to our Mother and Father ; be obedient, loving : bear with their infirmities, even when they seem unreasonable : are we not all here simply to "bear one another's burdens"? And whose burdens should we more cheerfully bear than those of our Parents, to whom we owe all that we have, all that we are ? Your course is, what mine and every other reasonable creature's is : wherever you find Disorder, Disarrange- ment (be it external, of mere bodily things, or internal, as improper conduct, unreasonable feel- ings of the mind), to gird yourself forthwith, in all faithfulness and honest zeal, to remedy such Disarrangement, by superior Arrangement springing from yourself. The worse that men or things behave to you, do you behave the better to them ; this is the grand rule, the sum and substance of all others. I know the task is hard, very hard for flesh and blood : neverthe- 278 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1831 less great also is your reward. Let us think always, as the Poet Milton said, that "we are ever in our great Taskmaster's eye."— I must send you some sketches of our situa- tion here ; though there is nothing very new since I wrote so largely, by the side of Jack's Letter from Rome. My own health continues good : I have finished off my Edinburgh Review Paper, and despatched it a week ago, within the appointed time : whether the Editor will dare to print it I cannot say ; for it speaks out in plain English upon some things ; neither, indeed, should I mightily care, for when I have once told the truth, my part with it is done, and if the world will not listen, the world will just do the other way. The business of writing comes rather awkward to me here : at the same time, now when my hand is in, I do not wish to let it go out again ; and so mean to begin to-morrow once more to the trade, and try a sort of sketch upon Dr. Johnson. With this I shall require less pains ; perhaps a matter of three weeks will see me through it. Mean- while great plenty of other work comes flowing in upon me ; I shall certainly bring home enough to serve me through the summer, let me work as I may. Two or three Magazines more are chirping to me with open arms ; even offering to raise their prices ! Nay, a certain learned Doctor of this city ^ offers me a kind of outlet for my old History of German Litei'a- 1 Dr. Lardner, editor of the Cabinet Cyclopadia, in which the History was to appear. The scheme fell through. i83i TO MISS JANE CARLYLE 279 ture (which went all awry the year before last) ; and I am not without hope of getting things arranged so that I may close with him. I am doing what I can that way ; and shall soon see through it. Whether the Book (the already written one) will get printed is still very uncertain : I have partly resolved not to take under ;^ioo for it; and at present every- thing is kept stagnant by their Reform Bill : indeed the whole business of Literature is a sort of Bedlam -broke -loose, and must soon alter, or utterly disappear ; it takes a man with eyes in his head to walk through the middle of it and kick the dirt aside from sticking on him. My good Wifie has not been so well as I could wish. She made such a hand of herself, galloping and waking and feverishly fretting before she left Scotland that now she neces- sarily suffers for it. Her strength is smaller than usual ; she does not lie in bed, is not even dispirited ; but always in a sickly sort of way. I trust however she is now past the worst ; I will take better care of her another time. She is at this moment lying at my back (I mean with her feet behind my back) on the sofa : she dare not promise to write you a word to-day (the time too is so near, and so uncertain for people coming in), but will if she can. We see abundance of things and persons, as usual ; more and not fewer than are good for us. To- night I am to go and have tea with the Austins (Mrs. Austin was here the other day) ; the Goody is quite out of case for going in such an even- 28o LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 ing as it looks to be : one of those horrible frosty fogs ; as dark, now at two o'clock, as if it were twilight ; smoke everywhere without doors and within, your very nostrils full of soot — wholly a London day ! . . . I grieve, my dear Sister, that the sheet is at an end (and the time with it) when I might have run on to such lengths. I must wait for another season. Tell Jenny that I owe her too a little Note for her contribution to the first Letter : tell " Mister Cairlill "^ that I owe him none. Jane said he had promised to write : but has he ever done it ? — I sent off a little Note for Alick, which he will get on Wednes- day : I hope his new farm will do well, above all, that he himself will. Write to me' very soon, with all manner of minuteness. The Newspaper has come these two weeks on the Saturday, which gives me the most abundant time to read it. If you should belate your- selves any day, do not mind much, — I can still get a glimpse of it on Monday. — And so for the present, dear Crow, I bid thee farewell ! — Ever your Brother, T. Carlyle. LXXXIV.— To Dr. Carlyle, Rome. 4 Ampton Street, London, \oth January 1832. My dear Brother — I am not without anxieties on your account ; for I cannot but recollect that you volunteered, in your letter from Rome, to write " every three weeks," and 1 His brother James. 1 832 TO DR. CARLYLE 281 now I think it is almost five, and still no second comes to hand. These last ten days, accord- ingly, I have rather taken to " watch the Post- man " ; which you know is none of the most pleasant employments. However, I strive to banish apprehensions, and often say to myself, Why should any evil have befallen even now f Many risks have been happily run since you became a Traveller : I will hope that here also there is nothing but some trifling delay caused by irregularity of Posts, or the like, and boding no mischief. At all events, I will wait no longer for your letter ; but write as matters stand, that I may not drive you into the same embarrassment. Two letters of mine are still unacknowledged : one to Florence {Paste Restante, Firenze) ; an- other to Rome, despatched some day or two after yours announcing your arrival in that city had reached me. As I can speculate little about your proceedings, and only hope and pray that all may be well, I will here (in my smallest type) give you what light I can about my own, as if that were the only topic this world afforded : the best for you I well know it to be. Not long ago we had a Letter from Scotsbrig (though I think it was before my last communi- cation with you), indicating that all went well. I have written, at large, twice since then, and look for a specific detail ere long. Meanwhile, the Courier, which now goes to Scotsbrig first, 2Lrvdi finally to Craigenputtock, brings us weekly a token of their existence, and last time had " all right " scratched on it in Jane's hand. I sup- 282 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 pose Alick to be vigorously bestirring, himself for his new Farm ; I have written two Notes to him, but yet have no answer : the Scotsbrig people had been able without difficulty to "meet him: "^ all seemed to be proceeding in the usual fashion. May God be thanked for it ! Mrs. Welsh also wrote to us lately : she is in a situa- tion full of discomforts and difficulty ; her Father so failed and helpless, herself so sickly and sad : however, she struggles through courageously, and not without effect does her best. This I think is all the Scottish news we have that can interest you. For ourselves here, we are not in the most vigorous state, yet nowise entitled to complain. Jane, as was natural after such a tumult as she came through in her passage hither, has had but a weakly time of it, now and then quite disabled : Dr. Irving's medicaments too gave her no satis- faction ; so she took the matter into her own hand ; for the last four or five weeks has been living dietetically like a very Kitchener,^ and is now growing decidedly better. She walks out every day, all wrapped in furs, cloaks and what not, lifted out of the mud-sea on " French clogs " ; is quite resolute in her own way, and quietly perseverant, and indeed she begins to bloom up again, and look like her former self She sees little company except what comes here ; but that is enough. ... It is a climate, this of London, against which all manner of 1 The landlord on rent-day. — M. C. 2 Dr. Kitchener, of Peptic Precepts, Cook's Oracle, etc. 1832 TO DR. CARLYLE 283 objections might be made, its two great ele- ments being unhappily reek and g-lar:^ we have had "real London fogs" too, the liveliest image of Pandemonium, torch-bearing spectres shout- ing through the glbom, an atmosphere that you might "dig with shovels." Then rains, and dmap chill vapours, and frosts against which, in these gigmanic-fashioned rooms, there is no protection. But what is there in climate that by much vituperating you can alter ? It is one of Heaven's ordinances, to be received silently, even thankfully : is not all weather so much Time that has been lent us ? No Cholera, or other epidemic yet attacks us ; nor except with very cowardly people is such greatly appre- hended : that Cholera will arrive seems likely, but what then ? Except the name, there are other far more frightful maladies which we look on with indifference, — Typhus-fever, for example. At Sunderland, it seems nearly burnt out ; also at Newcastle : two weeks ago it ap- peared at Haddington, where there have been between twenty and thirty cases, and several deaths (to us not known) ; it has not reached Edinburgh, but of course is dreaded there, where already there seems to be a Fever, much more fatal in its character, though being only common death, little heed is paid it. Did you see in the Newspaper that poor Dr. Becker had died of cholera at Berlin ? Alas, it is even so ; another friend is taken from us ! Hegel also is dead of the same malady (the Philo- 1 Smoke and mud. 284 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 sopher Hegel) : both these events are now of old date, though perhaps still unknown to you. Nor is my catalogue of mortality yet full : I went to call on Charles Duller the day before yesterday, and he confounded me by mention- ing that his uncle Strachey was dead and buried ! It had been a most sudden call : on a Tuesday night (exactly this day fortnight) poor Strachey came home complaining ; the disease, treated by unskilful Doctors, proved to be inflammation of the liver, which soon became inflammation of the lungs also, and on the next Tuesday Night, it was all over. Mrs. Strachey, it is said, bears it courageously : I design to write, and were I once in travelling order, to go and see her. I believe her to be a genuine woman, a schone Seek such as there are few ; and pity her much in her new lonely state. You spoke of writing : have you ever done it ? I know not that she now cares much for me ; but that does not alter my care for her : we have never met since you were there. With respect to my personal occupations and outlooks, I will soon give you some light. I have corrected the Proof-sheets of the Article "Characteristics" for Napier, who receives it with respect, yet finds it "inscrutable" on a first perusal : my own fear was that it might be too scrutable ; for it indicates decisively enough that Society (in my view) is utterly condemned to destruction, and even now be- ginning its long travail-throes of Newbirth. I believe it will be published in a day or two : if 1832 TO DR. CARLYLE 285 I can find any opportunity (of which I yet hear nothing), you shall have it sent you. Mean- while I have various other things on the anvil : first a Paper on Johnson, probably for Eraser, though that is no good vehicle : I have spent two weeks in merely reading Croker's five volumes,^ and do not yet see my way : I design to be short and rather superficial. One has no right vehicle : you must throw your ware into one of those dog's-meat carts, such as travel the public streets, and get it sold there, be it carrion or not. Each age has its capabilities; these are the capabilities of ours. Perhaps they will mend ; at all events, let us use them with our whole wisdom, our whole might. Then I have some trashy thing (I yet know not what) to put to- gether for Bulwer ; ^ whom I have not yet seen, but who writes, in sickness, cravingly. Coch- rane' also engages for the old Black' sche*' rate of wages, and wishes me to do him something on Diderot, which I have partly undertaken. Farther, there are one or two bits of pieces which I have in view for Napier : but these will probably lie till I see him. Lastly, I must tell you of something much more extensive than all the rest : no less than the History of Ger- man Literature. At William Gray's, I met a little Templar, named Hayward ° (Editor of a 1 Croker's BoswelVs Life of Johnson. 2 Then editing the New Monthly Magazine. 3 Editor of the Foreign Quarterly Review. * Black, Young and Young's (publishers of the Quarterly). 5 Mr. Abraham Hayward, whose Memoirs have been lately (1887) published. 286 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 Periodical work, " The Jurist," or some such thing), who took very much to me then and since ; on his own motion, went to Lardner of the Cycloptzdia, and made arrangements about the History of German Literature (concern- ing which I felt indifferent enough); and now, after two interviews between Lardner and me, I think it is nearly settled that I am to have such a thing ready, against next November. I am to have two volumes (and ;^30o) to incor- porate all that I have already published in Reviews (Black grants me his permission in the handsomest way) ; and to produce 1 70 pages of new matter, binding up the whole into a Zur Geschichte, to which I can put my name. Lardner, I understand, is a sure ready- money man ; offers to get me Books, etc.: so I think the business will come to a bearing ; in- deed it had -come to one apparently last time we met (a week ago), only nothing has yet been written about it : I have not even sent him my list of " Books wanted," having been too busy and catarrhal to think maturely of it. There will be much labour here ; but also a kind of remuneration : moreover, I shall thereby get my hands washed of German, and my whole say about it honourably said. It is our present purpose to get on with everything belonging to London with all de- spatch ; to take the Steamboat for Edinburgh about the month of March ; arrange what is arrangeable with Napier, perhaps also with Tait (whose projected " Liberal Periodical " 1832 TO DR. CARLYLE 287 gives no further note of being) ; and then fix ourselves once more at Puttock for the sum- mer ; and be ready to start anywhither (if hope offer) with the ensuing winter, and set the Printers in motion. We both reckon it an ail- too hazardous enterprise that of taking up house here ; and lodgings, even of the best as we have them here, are full of annoyances and drawbacks. Besides there is nothing in London at present but stagnation and apprehension, and Radical Reform : the Bill will not pass yet for months, and .then — what better shall we be ? — With Teufelsdreck I believe I can do nothing : I took it back from Dilke last Saturday, who could give me no light but a sort of dull London fog, or darkness visible (though I find him a kindly and not altogether obtuse man) ; and now it lies in the hands of Charles Buller, who seemed anxious to see it. My chief comfort is in the effect it appears to produce on young unbestimmt people like him : Glen was even asking for a third perusal of it. The whole matter is none of the weightiest : yet also is it not wholly a Lie that Lucubration of Dreck's ; it can rest for twelvemonths and will not worm- eat. British Literature is a mud-ocean, and boundless "mother of dead dogs": neverthe- less here too there is stilting (with clean boots), and steering towards true landmarks or false. God give us more and more insight into our Duty ; ever new strength to perform it ! I have no other prayer. — Of preferment, in any shape, except that of being maintained alive for writing 288 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 my best indifferent Prose, there is not the faintest symptom : indeed I scarcely care twopence about it : once get your footing in Eternity, all " Time- vestures " are but a cobweb, and the Chancellor's jupe like any other beggar's blanket. The day is at hand when it will be asked us, not. What pleasure and prog hadst thou in that world ? but, What work didst thou accomplish there ? Thus, dear Brother, have I given you the minutest possible description of our whereabout ; you can see in some measure what we are doing, and like to do. You may perhaps get two Letters out of London yet ; or perhaps some- thing new may turn up in the interim, and detain us longer. Either way, I am content enough. I do not rue my journey to London ; but already feel my mind much stimulated, and as it were filled with new matter to elaborate. It will be very useful for me to come back from time to time : though I think I have hardly found a single man that has given me a new idea, and I have on the whole been called to talk far oftener than listen, yet the very view of such a huge phenomenon as London life works deeply on you, and will have its fruit. — ... Of Mill (who maintains his place here), the Bullers, the Examiner^ (whom I mean to see soon), Jeffrey (who comes skipping over twice a week), etc. etc., I shall say nothing this time ; for our space is done. Accept this scrawl in good part, my dear Brother ; and soon send me another as long and as strictly biographic. ^ Fonblanque. i832 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 289 I will hope for all good news of you : be wise, be resolute ; there is nothing outward that one has to dread. . . . Keep your Journal, think often of me, or rather always : and may God be ever with you, and with us all ! Amen ! — Your affectionate Brother, T. Carlyle. LXXXV. — To Alexander Carlyle, Craigenputtock. 4 Ampton Street, Gray's Inn Road, London, Saturday, 14th January 1832. My dear Alick — . . . Several weeks ago I sent you a little Note for the Dumfries Post Office : this I think you must have got, though no answer has yet reached me. The present will be the third Letter for which you are now in my debt. I am getting very desirous to hear from you ; what you are doing and for- bearing ; how you get on with the preparatives for Catlinns, what you think of it, and of your outlooks generally ; how we are likely to find you when we return in Spring. Often does the picture of that lone mansion in the Dun- score wold come before me here ; it has a strange almost unearthly character, as it comes before me standing in the lone Night in the wintry moor, with the tumult of London raging around me, who was once your fellow-hermit, and am soon to be a yet more solitary hermit. I am wae to think that this, like all other earthly arrangements, is now drawing to its u 290 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 close ; we shall wander no more along the Glaisters Hill : it is the ugliest of hills, and none of us saw cheerfulness on the face of it, or anything but toil and vexation ; nevertheless now when it is all past, how can we be other than sad ? Alas, we ourselves are quickly passing ; a little while, and no place that now knows us shall know us any more at all for- ever! Let us strive to obtain a "continuing City"; for such, by God's goodness, there yet is ; appointed for the just man ; who (in some to us wholly mysterious way, yet surely as aught is sure) "shall dwell forever with God." Were it not for some faith in this, I see not how one could endure the tossing and toils of the World : but with this, while it holds steady before us, the very sorrows of our present dream of life, for it is but a dream, are bless- ings for us. Let us never lament then ; let us stand to it like brave men ; expecting no reward in this world, wishing for none ; feeling that to serve our heavenly Taskmaster is itself the richest of all rewards. . . . Our plans here are getting a little more fixed : I can now give you some faint fore- shadow of them. I pride myself that I have never gone half a foot out of my road in search of what are called "prospects": it is yet and has always been clear to me that I was one whom Promotion was least of all likely to visit. Thank Heaven I know my trade : it is to write truth while I can be kept alive by so doing, and to die writing it when I can no longer be 1832 TO HIS MOTHER 291 kept alive. So feeling, I look upon all mortals with the friendliest humour ; let Kings and Chancellors fight their own battles, and all speed to them : let the Devil go his way, and I will go mine. Therefore aftfer settling my Author-business in London, I will not stay an hour, "waiting at the pool," as some advise me. . . . On the whole the world stands related to me very much as I could wish it. I find my- self respected by all whose judgment I respect ; feared and wondered at by a much greater number ; despised, at least openly, by no one. With incessant long-continued exertion, there is much possible for me ; I may become a Preacher of the Truth, and so deliver my message in this Earth, the highest that can be entrusted to man. — I write all this, because I know well, you love me, and heartily, as a Brother and Scholar, wish me good speed. . . . T. Carlyle. LXXXVI. — To his Mother, Scotsbrig. 4 Ampton Street, Mecklenburg Square, London, i2d January'^ 1832. My dear Mother — It is not very long since I wrote to you ; yet I make no doubt you are wearying to hear from me again ; as indeed I am to write again, for there are few things that give me greater pleasure. A letter from Jack having arrived, I have now a decided call made on me ; and snatch a few minutes as I can get them to fulfil it. You have no notion 1 The day of his father's death. 292 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 how hard it is even to command minutes here, such streams of visitors and other interruptions come upon one : for example, since I wrote the first sentence of this, there have been no fewer than six persons, simultaneously and suc- cessively, breaking in on my privacy, and I have had to talk almost as much as would make a volume. First, Glen and some insignificant etceteras; then John Mill with Detrosier (the Manchester Lecturer to the Working Classes, whom you may have seen mentioned in the Examiner), and, much stranger, an actual Saint - Simonian Frenchman, arrived as a missionary here ! ^ I have since taken my dinner ; and now sit writing before tea, after which we have another engagement : to go and hear the famous Mr. Owen ^ (of whom also the Newspapers are full enough) preach in his "Institution" for the perfection of Society, or for something else equally noble, which I forget. So you see partly how I am situated, and will take the wish for the deed. My worthy and kind Correspondent " little Jean" has been rather stingy with me of late ; though I must speak in regret rather than in blame ; for were she to dry up on me, what should I do ? Remind her only how very long it is since I had a Letter, and how gratifying a Letter from her always is. I am not in any great anxiety, for I struggle always to hope the best : indeed Alick wrote to me last week, bringing down the good news, at least want of 1 Gustave D'Eichthal. ^ Robert Owen of Lanark. 1 832 TO HIS MOTHER 293 ill news, to a recent date : neither will I now let myself believe that anything bad has be- fallen ; but think always that some soon coming day will bring me direct confirmation. Alick said that you, my dear Mother, were fully as strong as usual ; that the rest were all well ; only that my Father was again afflicted with his old complaint of cold. . I pray you take all charge of him ; let himself too avoid all ex- posure to these winter damps : he should get himself warmer clothing, above all sufficient shoes, or well-lined clogs ; and not stir out at all, except he cannot help it, especially when the sun is not shining. This advice applies also to you ; only that I know you are yourself much more of a doctor than he is. We are struggling along here in the old way, and now see better what we are going to do, and when we are to move. Jane has been sickly almost ever since the winter began ; but by rigorous adherence to regimen is now fairly recovering, and already much stronger than she was. The weather here has been more un- comfortable, and the place altogether more full of annoyances, than one could almost anywhere else experience : reek and glar and fogs damp and dry, these are the grand elements man lives in on the streets of London. Were it not that the city is full of people whom it is pleasant and prdfitable to converse with, this is nowise the habitation I would choose for myself You are ill-lodged, in brick houses, thin as shells, with the floors all twisted, and every article 294 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 indicating its showiness and its weakness. You are ill-fed, unless you can live upon beef ; your milk is of the bluest, your water of the muddiest ; your eggs rotten, your potatoes watery, and exactly about ten times the price they are in Annandale, namely one penny per pound ! You are ill-bedded and ill-clothed unless you prefer show to substance ; all these things are agairist you. Nevertheless there is a great charm in being here ; at the fountain-head and centre of British activity, in the busiest and quickest- moving spot that this whole Earth contains. I find myself greatly enriched with thoughts since I came hither ; and by no means disposed to repent of my journey. Nor am I without encouragements, such as I need, for holding on my way : in all open minds, I find ready access ; and sometimes even grateful invitation : all people, good and bad, think of me not very much otherwise than I want them to think. Let us fight the good fight, then ! In due time we shall prevail if we faint not. I esteem it a great blessing that I was born, that I am a denizen of God's Universe ; and surely the greatest of all earthly blessings that I was born of parents who were religious, who from the first studied to open my eyes to the Highest, and train me up in the ways wherein I should go. My motto is always : Reverence God, and fear nothing ; nothing either of man or devil ! — . . . We have settled that we are to leave this in March ; though the precise day and date, the 1 832 TO HIS MOTHER 295 manner of our journey, whether we are coming round by Edinburgh y^rj^f, etc. etc., all remains unfixed. So that we shall (God willing) see you all with the first fine weather of Spring ! Let us trust and hope that it will be in peace and cheer- fulness ; in thankfulness to the Giver of all Good, by whom such blessing is vouchsafed us ! I am not going to trouble you with any public news ; you see enough of that in the Newspaper ; and as for my own ideas on the matter I reserve them till we can speak face to face when I return. It seems as if it would be months yet before their Reform Bill were passed, and in the meanwhile all business is crippled. . . . The poor people are all quiet, though very miserable many of them : it is almost positively painful to walk these streets, and see so many cold and hungry and naked and ignorant beings, and have so little power to help them. — Poor Hogg the Ettrick Shep- herd is walking about here ; dining everywhere, everywhere laughed at; being indeed the veriest gomeril} He appears in public with a gray Scotch plaid, the like of which was never seen here before : it is supposed to be a trick of his Bookseller (a hungry shark, on the verge of bankruptcy) who wishes to attract notice from the Cockney population, and thereby raise the wind a little. He drank whisky punch at that dinner I was at ; and clattered the arrantest good-natured janners? — Jeffrey often comes here, running over in great haste ; and is brisk 1 Good-natured fool. ^ j(j]g aj,(j incoherent talk. 296 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 and busy as a bee. — . . . The Bullers are here, both parents and sons, all in the friend- liest relation to me. I dined there lately, and am very soon going back : the two boys are promising fellows, and may one day be heard of in the world. Charles is almost the most intelligent young man I converse with here. I must now go, my dear Mother, and let you go. It will give you great comfort to find that Jack is so well : his Letter is unluckily quite too full of Roman antiquities, about which no one of us cares a penny piece ; however it brings nothing but good news so far. . . . You must give my brotherly affection to all the young ones ; tell them that I vote with you as to this truth : that the only blessing in the world is that of good behaviour, which lies in the power of every one. They must love one another : " Little children love one another," this was the departing farewell precept of the Friend of Men. Tell my Father that I love and honour him. Take care of him, dear Mother, and of yourself, that I may find you both well. God ever bless you all ! — I remain, my dear Mother, your affectionate Son, T. Carlyle. The Newspaper comes quite prettily every Saturday about Noon. Punctuality is a great virtue. 1832 TO HIS MOTHER 297 LXXXVIL— To his Mother, Scotsbrig.^ London, 2 \th January 1832. My dearest Mother — I was downstairs this morning when I heard the Postman's knock, and thought it might be a Letter from Scotsbrig : hastening up I found Jane with the Letter open, and in tears. The next moment gave me the stern tidings. I had written to you yesterday, a light hopeful Letter, which I could now wish you might not read, in these days of darkness : probably you will receive it just along with this ; the first red seal so soon to be again ex- changed for a black one. I had a certain mis- giving, not seeing Jane's customary " all well " ; ^ and I thought, but did not write (for I strive usually to banish vague fears) " the pitcher goes often to the well, but it is broken at last." I did not know that this very evil had already overtaken us. As yet I am in no condition to write much : the stroke, all unexpected though not undreaded, as yet painfully crushes my heart together ; I have yet hardly had a little relief from tears. And yet it will be a solace to me to speak out with you, to repeat along with you that great saying, which, could we lay it rightly to heart, includes all that man can say : " It is God that 1 This letter is printed in Froude's Life, ii. 248. It is reprinted here (with the correct date) in order that the record of so important an event in Carlyle's hfe as the death of his father should not be omitted from this epistolary autobiography. " The two strokes on the newspaper. 298 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 has done it ; God support us all ! " ^ Yes, my dear Mother, it is God that has done it ; and our part is reverent submission to His Will, and trustful prayer to Him for strength to bear us through every trial. I could have wished, as I had too confidently hoped, that God had ordered it otherwise : but what are our wishes and wills ? I trusted that I might have had other glad meetings and pleasant communings with my honoured and honour- worthy Father in this world : but it was not so appointed ; we shall meet no more, till we meet in that other Sphere, where God's Presence more immediately is ; the nature of which we know not, only we know that it is of God's appointing, and therefore altogether good. Nay already, had we but faith, our Father is not parted from us, but only withdrawn from our bodily eyes : the Dead and the Living, as I often repeat to myself, are alike with God : He, fearful and wonderful, yet good and in- finitely gracious, encircles alike both them that we see, and them that we cannot see. Whoso trusteth in Him has obtained the victory over Death : the King of Terrors is no longer terrible. Yes, my dear Mother and Brothers and Sisters, let us see also how mercy has been mingled with our calamity. Death was for a long time ever present to our Father's thought ; daily and hourly he seemed meditating on his 1 Words which his mother had written in a postscript to the letter from his sister. 1 832, TO HIS MOTHER 299 latter end : the end too appears to have been mild as it was speedy ; he parted, as gently as the most do, from this vale of tears ; and Oh ! in his final agony, he was enabled to call, with his strong voice and strong heart, on the God that had made him to have mercy on him. Which prayer, doubt not one of you, the All- merciful heard, and in such wise as infinite mercy might, gave answer to. And what is the Death of one dear to us, as I have often thought, but the setting out on a journey an hour before us, which journey we have all to travel : what is the longest earthly Life to the Eternity, the Endless, the Beginningless, which encircles it .■' The oldest man and the newborn babe are but divided from each other by a single hair's-breadth. For myself I have long continually meclitated on Death, till, by God's grace, it has grown transparent for me, and holy and great rather than terrific ; till I see that " Death, what mortals call Death, is pro- perly the beginning of Life." — One other com- fort we have, to take the bitterness out of our tears : this greatest of all comforts, and properly the only one : that our Father was not called away till he had done his work, and done it faithfully. Yes, my beloved friends, we can with a holy pride look at our Father, there where he lies low, and say that his Task was well and manfully performed ; the strength that God had given him he put forth in the ways of honesty and welldoing ; no eye will ever see a hollow deceitful work that he did : the world 300 LETTERS- OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 wants one true man, since he was taken away. When we consider his Life, through what hard- ships and obstructions he struggled, and what he became and what he' did, there is room for gratitude that God so bore him on. Oh, what were it now to us that he had been a king ; now when the question is not : What wages hadst thou for thy work ? But : How was thy work done ? My dear Brothers and Sisters, sorrow not, I entreat you ; sorrow is profitless and sin- ful ; but rheditate deeply every one of you on this. None of us but started in Life with far greater advantages than our dear Father had : we will not weep for him ; but we will go and do as he has done. Could I write my Books, as he built his Houses, and walk my way so manfully through this shadow-world, and leave it with so little blame, it were more than all my hopes. Neither are you, my beloved Mother, to let your heart be heavy. Faithfully you toiled by his side, bearing and forbearing as you both could : all that was sinful and of the Earth has passed away ; all that was true and holy remains forever, and the Parted shall meet together again with God. Amen ! So be it ! We your children, whom you have faithfully cared for, soul and body, and brought up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, we gather round you in this solemn hour, and say, be of comfort ! Well done, hitherto ; persevere and it shall be well ! We promise here before God,' and the awful yet merciful work of God's Hand, that we will continue to love and honour 1832 TO HIS MOTHER 301 you, as sinful children can ; and now do you pray for us all, and let us all pray in such language as we have for one another; so shall this sore division and parting be the means of a closer union. O let us all and every one know that though this world is full of briars and we are wounded at every step as we go, and one by one must take farewell, and weep bitterly, yet " there remaineth a rest for the people of God." Yes, for the people of God there remaineth a Rest, that Rest which in this world they could nowhere find. And now again I say do not grieve any one of you beyond what nature forces and you cannot help. Pray to God, if any of you have a voice and utterance ; all of you pray always in secret and silence, if faithful, ye shall be heard openly. I cannot be with you to speak ; but read in the Scripture, as I would have done. Read, I especially ask, in Matthew's Gospel that Passion and Death and Farewell blessing and command of "Jesus of Nazareth"; and see if you can understand and feel what is the " divine depth of Sorrow " ; and how even by suffering and sin man is lifted up to God, and in great darkness there shines a light. If you cannot read it aloud in common, then do each of you take his Bible in private and read it for himself Our business is not to lament, but to improve the lamentable, and make it also peaceably work 'together for greater good. I could have wished much to lay my honoured Father's head in the grave : yet 302 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 it could have done no one good save myself only, and I shall not ask for it. Indeed, when I remember, that right would have belonged to John of Cockermouth,-' — to whom offer in all heartiness my brotherly love. I will be with you in spirit, if not in person : I have given orders that no one is to be ad- mitted here till after the funeral on Friday : I mean to spend these hours in solemn medita- tion and self-examination, and thoughts of the Eternal ; such seasons of grief are sent us even for that end : God knocks at our heart, the question [is] Will we open or not ? — I shall think every night of the Candle burning in that sheeted room, where our dear Sister also lately lay. O God be gracious to us ; and bring us all one day together in Himself! After Friday, I return, as you too must, to my worldly work ; for that also is work appointed us by the heavenly Taskmaster. — I will write to John to- night or to-morrow. Let me hear from you again so soon as you have composure. I shall hasten all the more homewards for this. For the present I bid God ever bless you all ! Pray for me, my dear Mother ; and let us all seek consolation there. — I am ever your affectionate, T. Carlyle. Most probably you are not in want of money : if you are, I have some ten pounds or more which I can spare here, and you have only to send for. 1 His father's eldest son, Carlyle's -half-brother. 1832 TO HIS MOTHER 303 LXXXVIIL— To his Mother, Scotsbrig. 4 Ampton Street [London], \%th February 1832. My dear Mother — . . . Jane's kind, calm Letter gave us great satisfaction : it was wholly in the spirit, and represented you all as wholly in the spirit which I wished and expected. Our sufferings here are not unmixed with mercy : nay, as faith teaches us, they are all mercies in disguise. My mind also is peaceable ; and if sad, not, I trust, sad after an unholy fashion. Let us not mourn as creatures that h^d no Hope. We are creatures that had an All- Good Creator ; and this Earth we live in is named the " Place of Hope." For myself Death has long been the hourly companion of my thoughts : I can look upon this earthly world as, in very deed, smoke and shadow ; and Eternity the only substance, the only truth. Thus is " Death, what mortals call Death, properly the beginning of Life." How any reasonable being can exist here below otherwise than thus, might justly seem a mystery. — I am also much gratified to learn that Jamie makes worship among you : nothing can be more becoming and needful than in all our ways and days -works to address ourselves, as the beginning of every other effort, to Him who has given us our whole Force ; by whom our whole efforts are overruled, in whom we live, move, and have our being. Tell Jamie that I take this as a good token of him ; and will hope 304 LETTERS ^OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 all that is good and just and wise from his future conduct. Thank him for his kind and honest little Postscript; which I will answer, by the first opportunity ; would fain answer now. He must write me again, at any rate. Finally, my dear Mother, take care of yourself ; that we may find you well, when it shall please God to bring us together again. . . . What day we are to look forward to for setting out cannot yet be anywise fixed. I am in the middle of Johnson, which I wish to finish before setting out ; it will take me at least twelve days yet, pretty hard work. Then I have to settle about many other little things : Napier indeed wrote to me (to - day) about .■..another little Article for the Edinburgh Review to b'e*ready "aboutVhe middle of March" ; but Sthis I rather think I shall try to write in Dum- Triesshire,- — say to finish it at Scotsbrig! On the whole, nothing can be fixed : only you may take this fact : Jane is about writing to her Mother to engage a servant she (Mrs. Welsh) was speaking of, to be ready by the first of April; we mean also to stay some while with you, before looking at Dunscore. This fact also is certain : we are neither of us disposed to lose any time ; so the harder I work, the sooner I shall get into free air, and to the sight of dear Friends ! — We were both of us very thankful that you had despatched Betty Smeal to keep the house of Puttock : it makes us quite easy on that score ; and Betty can be figured there as bolting and barring, and burning fires, and keep- 1832 TO HIS MOTHER 305 ing everything as it should be.— We cannot yet make out what Alick is specially doing ; for he has never written : probably he is too busy with beginning his new enterprise ; at all events I should like to know where he is, were it only for sending the Paper to him. By the way, it did not come this morning ; but I reckon, that means nothing. We have Cholera at last in this city, as you will see : such has been my expectation ever since I first heard of the disease. The people affected hitherto are few in number (perhaps not above the usual number of deaths) and far off this quarter of the city. I myself feel no alarm, nor does Jane : when they told me that day, "Cholera is here! Cholera is here!" — I answered : " When was Death not here ? " — Far would it be from me to expose myself without strict necessity ; I would even fly were the danger considered in any measure pressing, and did one know whither to fly (but which place is safe, or even much safer than another ?). At the same time, equally far should I wish to be from pusillanimous terror — as if in the midst of the pestilence, as in the midst of health, I were not in God's hand. — The truth is, this "Cholera" is little else, if one look at it, than an opening of men's eyes to behold what their usual blindness prevents them from observing : that their Life hangs by a single hair ; that Death is great, and forever close at their hand. By a singular arrangement, too, this Disease seems to attack almost exclusively, not so X 3o6 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 much the poor, as the improvident, drunken and worthless : punishment follows hard on sin. They are passing Acts of Parliament about it, for having the Poor clothed and fed, by assess- ment, where it is not done voluntarily. This is very right. If the Disease spread and become threatening, you shall instantly hear ; and, in this case, may see us sooner than you expect, for we have nothing to detain us here, at any risk. But for the present, there seems none that we can calculate : so be not uneasy, dear Mother ; commit us to God's good keeping, as we, I hope, endeavour to do ourselves ; and fear nothing. Jane has a headache to-day ; but considers herself, on the whole, and indeed evidently is, in an improving way, "decidedly better than she was." She has had but a sickly time of it here, yet has not been unhappy, " there is such excellent company." She has seen no " sights " hardly ; and cares little or nothing about such. Good talk is what she delights in, and I too ; and here, amid the mass of Stupidity and Falsehood, there is actually some reasonable conversation to be come at. She has met with some valuable people ; and I believe has improved herself in more ways than one. Mrs. Austin and she are very fond of each other ; Jane is going up to her, on Thursday, " to have a whole day of it : " I also think Mrs. Austin a very worthy solid -minded womant. — ... Of work, as I told you, I have plenty and to spare. This Johnson is meant for [James] Fraser (an honest, ignorant, simpleton of a 1832 TO HIS MOTHER 307 creature, knowing little but that one and one make two) : but if it do not suit his Magazine, I have other use for it. I must also tell you another thing : Fraser came to me the other morning, and, by Jane's help, got me to "stand for my Picture,"^ to be published in his Magazine ! I suppose it will not be out for several months : however, you need not be impatient ; for I do not think it at all like me, except in the coat and boots, and hair of the head. Goethe's Picture is to appear in the next Number (of that dud Magazine) ; and I have been requested (just as I was beginning this Letter) to write a little Notice to accompany it ; which perhaps I should consent to do.^ — The " Characteristics " has been well received ; approved seemingly by every one whose ap- proval was wanted : I am on all hands en- couraged to proceed. Forward ! Forward ! Meeting Irving the other day on the street, he appointed me to come and take tea with him. The "inspired-tongue" work, I think, is getting a little dulled ; at least I heard "or saw nothing of it going on, that night ; only Irving still full, of its importance, and his Wife (a melancholic half- hollow sort of person, not wholly to my mind) still fuller. Irving had read the " Characteristics," with quite high 1 The well-known drawing by Maclise, now in the Forster Collection, South Kensington Museum. 2 This brief paper, " Goethe's Portrait," appeared in Eraser's Magazine, No. 26. It is reprinted in the Mis- cellanies, iii. 379 ; the portrait " proved a total failure, and involuntary caricature." 3o8 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 estimation of the talent, etc. etc. : nevertheless he seemed to think I was going a very wrong road to work, and should consider myself, and take into the " Tongues." He was nobly tolerant in heart ; but in head quite bewildered, almost imbecile. He put into my hands, as "the deepest view he had ever seen," a Paper (in his Prophetic Magazine The Morning Watch) written by a namesake of mine in Edinburgh ; or rather not by him, " for it was given him " — by the Spirit ! This deepest view I glanced into, and found to be simply the insanest Babble, without top bottom or centre, that ever was emitted even from Bed- lam itself. — Poor Irving ! It is still said they are taking steps to cast him out of his Church : what next he is to bring out upon the world I cannot prophesy. A good true-hearted man he will continue; the truer, the more he suffers from the world : but he has once for all sur- rounded himself with Delirium and with the Delirious ; and so stands quite exiled from all general usefulness. Nevertheless if he be spared alive, he is nowise done yet ; but has other outbreakings in store. . . . And now, dear Mother, take our united filial love ; and let us all be joined to- gether more and more in true affection, and in well-doing above all, which is the only bond and basis of affection between reasonable beings. Let us live in thankfulness towards the good Disposer of events, faithfully striving to serve Him, as He gives us strength : then what is 1832 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 309 there that can make us afraid ? — Be very care- ful of your health, for the sake of us all. God bless and keep every one of you ! — Your affec- tionate Son, T. Carlyle. LXXXIX.— To Alexander Carlyle, at Scotsbrig. Templand, Saturday night [i4t/i Apn'l 1832]. My dear Alick — Your little Mare carried us up very handsomely, and with wonderful spirit (especially the last half of the journey) con- sidering how she has been worked of late. We gave ourselves and her rather a long rest at Dumfries; and got here all safe and sound, about eight o'clock. I have nothing but a miserable squirt of a crow-pen to write with ; so must make the fewest words possible serve. ... At Dumfries, besides Jack's, there was another Letter (from Fraser, the Magazine man) bringing the mournful tidings that Goethe was no more. Alas ! alas ! I feel as if I had a second time lost a Father : he was to me a kind of spiritual Father. The world holds not his like within it. But it is appointed for «// " once to die." . . . Where I am to lodge or how to move for the next week, I cannot yet with any certainty predict ; probably I shall be here most part of it ; possibly we may have taken up quarters by the end of it at our own fireside : at all events, it is not unlikely that I may contrive to see you there when you come up 3IO LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 for the pigs : if the Sunday is good weather, it might perhaps be permitted me to ride over on such an errand. But it is all, as you see, unfixed, fluctuating : one thing only you can look upon as certain ; that after Monday morning I am to be figured sitting at my work. Either here or elsewhere I will have a private apartment, and set to : so have I decided it. In some two weeks, I shall be done with this little job : then I am my own master again, and mean to make a sally into Annandale, and see you all with more deliberation. Perhaps in some three weeks ; if Harry, get any sort of mettle into him. There is much to be said and considered about the new state our whole Brotherhood is thrown into, now that our Head is gone. Meanwhile, let us all strive, by God's grace, to do our parts, each for himself, bearing and forbearing, they that are strong helping them that are weak. O let us all be gentle, obedient, loving to our Mother ; now that she is left wholly to our charge ! " Honour thy Father and thy Mother:" doubly honour thy Mother when she alone remains. . . . Bid our dear Mother take care of her- self : if you have any time, write me a single line to say whether she is better again ; for we left her complaining. Tell her that she is to hold fast her trust in the Great Father, and no evil will befal her or hers. . . . And so, dear Brother, and dear Friends all, take my affectionate good -night. With special love to my Mother (who must 1832 TO DR. CARLYLE 3" finish Johnson), I remain always, yours heartily, T. Carlyle. XC. — To Dr. Carlyle, Naples.^ Craigenputtock, Dumfries, 7,id May 1832. My dear Brother — I was very thankful to hear of your continued welfare at Naples, by the Letter of the 30th April, which our Neighbours here brought us up from Dunscore on Sunday evening. I take Tuesday, the very next op- portunity of answering it. — There is, as usual, a huge mass of Postage concerns to rectify in the first place ; for our correspondence, un- happily, flies out not with one thread meeting another thread, but with a whole ravelled fringe of threads meeting (or missing) another ravelled fringe. Let us be thankful, as you say, that there is any post. As to your Letters they seem all to have come. ... So far well : but with my Letters to you again, it is quite un^^ ; and I must again write you a long empty way- bill, with the sad doubt whether one item of it may yet have come to hand.^ . . . Also the 1 Part of this letter is given in Froude's Life, ii. 270, with many errors, e.g. " Nature's cornucopia " for " Fortune's cornu- copia," "make us all happy and honourable " for "make us all helpful and honourable," "houses with some;^28 " for "houses worth some ;^28," "our pastoral establishment" for "our Puttock establishment." 2 Here follows an account of letters and packages sent. At least one letter mentioned, written " some three weeks ago," is absent from this series of letters, and partly explains the hiatus here in the correspondence between Carlyle and his brother John. 312 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 cream of all the news I sent was simply " nothing singular ; much about our usual way, thank you." Happily this is still the essence of what I write : could I but shoot it through space, and reassure your heart from its anxieties ! We are well pleased with your sketches of Naples, with its noisy, empty inmates ; its Lazzaroni by profession, or only by practice without profession : there is much to be seen, thought of, and remembered in such a scene. Something it is to stand with your own actual feet on a spot distinguished in some particular beyond all others on our Planet. We are also contented with the appearance of your domestic position ; and would fain see further into it, and form a more coherent picture of it. Your noble Patient seems to suffer more than we anticipated. . . . Therein, as in so many other cases, must the Patient minister unto her- self. He whom Experience has not taught innumerable hard lessons will be wretched at the bottom of Fortune's Cornucopia ; and some are so dull at taking up ! On the whole, the higher classes of modern Europe, especially of actual England, are true objects of compassion. Be thou compassionate, patiently faithful : leave no means untried, work for thy wages and it will be well with thee. — Those Herzensergies- sungen eines Einsamen which the late Letters abound in, are not singular to me ; the spirit that dwells in them is such as I can heartily approve of It is an earnest mind seeking some i832 TO DR. CARLYLE 313 place of rest for itself, struggling to get its foot off the quicksand and fixed on the rock. The only thing I regret or fear is that there should be so much occupation of the mind upon itself Turn outward; attempt not (the impossibility) to " know thyself," but solely to know "what thou canst work at." This 'last is a possible knowledge for every creature, and the only profitable one : neither is there any way of attaining it, except trial, the attempt to work. Attempt honestly, the result even if unsuccessful will be infinitely instructive. I can see too, my dear Brother, that you have a great want in your present otherwise so prosperous condition : you have not anything like enough to do. I daresay many a poor riding Apothecary with five times your labour and the fifth part of your income is happier. Nevertheless stand to it tightly ; every time brings its duty. If your Lady require your services another year, you will have as much money as will set you up handsomely wherever you like to try, and then all things He before you : meanwhile are you not enjoying the inexpressible deliverance of paying off your debts, and inwardly resolving that no earthly influence will ever again lead you into such bondage ? It is in this way, if in no other, that " your present state connects itself with your future " ; a most favourable and essential connection. For the rest, as I have said some hundreds of times, it seems to me the most insignificant consideration of all, whether you set yourself down to exercise that noble 314 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 faculty of Healing, in London or elsewhere, among the higher ranks, or among the lower : among God's immortal creatures, groaning under the fardels of a weary life, it will not fail to be ; and if honest, your Doctorship must in any and all situations be a martyrdom; not a working for wages, which latter exist only for the bond Drudge, not for the free Doer. Think of all this, as you are wont ; but think of it rather with a practical intent : all speculation is beginningless and endless. Do not let your- self into Griibeln, even in your present state of partial inaction. I well, infinitely too well, know what Griibeln is : a wretched sink of Darkness, Pain, a paralytic Fascination ; cove;r it up ; that is to say, neglect it for some outward piece of Action ; go resolutely forward, you will not heed the precipices that gape on the right hand of you, and on the left. In Naples, for example, is there not much that you can do f I speak not of sight-seeing : doubtless you have been or will be at Virgil's Tomb, their Dog-Grotto, Vesuvius, Herculaneum, and what not; and have your eyes open, and your pen going : but there is much more than all this to be seen. There are men at Naples, and their way of Life, their practice in all things, medical, moral, legislative, artistic, economic. Is there no " Count Manso " now, living in your Parthenope ? Alas, I fear, none ! Nevertheless you actually should not be so solitary : scrape a talking acquaintance with any one, rather than with none. Some foolish A b bate, or Signor, or even Cicerone might tell 1832 TO DR. CARLYLE 31S you about many things. See to form some practical notion and theorem of the matter ; and do not come home (as Alick's mad serving-man said) "with my finger in my mouth, and two men both alike gleg {klug) waiting for me." Salvator Rosa's haunts are close by you : also you must not fail to bring me some authentic intelligence of the wondrous Masaniello ; gather whatsoever you can of him ; the village where he dwelt and fished is not far from you. Finally, dear Brother, "be alive" (as my Shrewsbury Coachman told a Methodist Par- son) : be alive ; all is included in that. We will hope to meet you at your return, a man filled with new knowledge, useful and orna- mental ; and ready then to begin his Mastership with manly effect, his Apprenticeship being honourably concluded. — I remark only further that your anxiety to send that money is an ex- cellent omen in my eyes : I will take good care of the cash when it comes to hand, and dispose of it punctually ; and think, it is the first fruits of a Brother's Endeavour, which is henceforth to go on prospering ; of which the securing his own Freedom and civic Independence is to be but a small though a fundamental and prelim- inary result. And so God keep you, and me ; and make us all helpful and honourable to one another, and " not ashamed to live " (as a Voice we have often heard ^ was wont to pray), " nor afraid to die." Amen. I sent you all the Scotsbrig news in my last 1 His father's.— M. C. 3i6 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 Letter. I have been there since ; only last week, and found them all struggling along, much as of old. Our dear Mother holds out well ; is in fair health ; not more dispirited than almost any one would be under her bereavement ; and peaceful, with a high trust in the great Guide of all. We expect her here in about a week, with Alick, who is bringing me up the Cart, with some sort of Horse he was to buy for me. I was over at his Farm too (which is named Catlinns) ; a mile from the junction of Corrie and Milk towards Lockerbie : it is a large mass of a rough farm, with some consider- able space of good land in it ; somewhat bare, and the houses, etc., in bad order: but is thought to be cheap, by judges. He is toiling at it very hard, looks lean, bqt otherwise hearty ; diligent and prudent. Jenny has given him a queer lively little girl, which he is very fond of. — We settled everything at Scotsbrig ; the Departed had left it all ready for settlement. Your name or mine (as I had myself requested) is not mentioned in the Will : it was all between my Mother and the other Five. Each had to claim some perhaps ^120 (each of the five; our Mother has the Houses worth some £2% yearly, during life) . . . Your Letter had given them all great pleasure ; their affection is as true as steel. Of ourselves here there is not much new to be said. Jane seemed to grow very greatly better whenever she set foot on her native heath ; is now not so well again, yet better than in London. I have written two things : a short 1832 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 317 Funeral Orahon on Goethe; it is for Bulwer's Magazine of June (the New Monthly), and pleases the Lady much better than me : then a paper on certain Corn Law Rhymes for Napier, of some twenty-five pages ; still lying here, but to go off forthwith. I am now beginning a far more extensive Essay on Goethe for the Foreign Quarterly Review. I am apt to be rather stupid; but do the best I can. Venerable, dear Goethe ! But we will not speak a word here. — Our Puttock Establishment is much like what it was : duller a little since Alick went ; but also quieter. Our new Neighbours have nothing to do with us ; except little kind offices of busi- ness ; articulate speech I hear little ; no wiser man than William Corson^ visits me. My sole comfort and remedy is Work ! Work ! Rather an unnatural state ; but not to be altered for the present. With many blessings too : a kind, true-hearted Wife, with whom a true man may share any fortune ; fresh air, food and raiment fit for one. The place is even a beautiful place, in its kind ; and may serve for a workshop, as well as another. Let us work, then ; and be thankful. . . . Now excuse my dulness, dear John ; love me always ; and may God bless you! T. Carlyle. XCI. — To Alexander Carlyle, Catlinns. Craigenputtock, Friday, 2gth June 1832. My dear Alick — . . . Your note with the } Of Nether Craigenputtock. 3i8 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 Scotsbrig enclosure got hither that same night : greatly to our satisfaction, to learn that all was well with you. With us too, as Peter -^ will ex- plain, Craigenputtock " stands where it did ; " with little change— except that there is a con- siderable Peat-stack now happily added to its other edifices. The fuel is good stuff, and was well got in. Jane is complaining still ; yet undoubtedly in the way of mending. I myself, as you understand,- have been the busiest man sincfe we parted, writing what I could : am now in the very heart of it ; and think other ten days will show me daylight on the farther side ; at all events two weeks : so that, say in three weeks, you are most likely to see me in Annandale again. If Jane come with me, we will make for Catlinns first. — I have the old still existence, which you know so well here ; am quite quiet with it, and happy enough while I am busy. If little good, neither does much evil come to ruffle our solitude : let us be thankful. This is my workshop, where there is room for my tool-bench to stand, and,- let me work a little : the Earth can yield no man any more than this same thing, better or worse in some small degree. . . . The gray mare gives complete satisfaction : a most gentle Beast ; comes to be caught when you go for it ; refuses no kind of work, will soon be a quite superior rider, agrees with its grass, and troubles no one. So that your 1 Peter Austin, of the neighbouring farm, Carstammon. i832 TO HIS MOTHER 319 journey for me to Longtown was not labour in vain, but will often come gratefully to re- membrance. . . . Send me up a "scrape of a pen " by Peter : how you are (little Jean in- cluded), how you are doing. I could have you a few larch-sticks ready directly, if you could come for them. God bless you, dear Brother ! — Ever your affectionate, T. Carlyle. XCII. — To his Mother, Scotsbrig. Craigenputtock, Tuesday night, Zistjuly 1832. My dear Mother — I meant at anyrate to write you a line to-night, and here comes, on Sabbath from Church, a brave Letter from John, which will make the package better worth car- riage. Our good Doctor is well, and has now heard of our welfare : it is altogether ■ a very comfortable Letter. I have written him a long Answer to-day ; wherein I failed not to men- tion hipw many kind things you wished to say to him, and that he must imagine them all. . . . I got up handsomely enough that day ; came upon Ben Nelson on Dodbeck Brae, and scratched^ two or three miles with him (for he was on a pony that would not lead), then said good-bye, with appointment to meet again in Town ; as accordingly we did, and had a long talk together. He told me of Waugh : how old Peg, his aunt, had died, and left him ^50 ; wherewith 'w^t does the possessed person do but- go off-to. Benson's and the King's Arms ^ Screeched, shouted. 320 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 with It, and sit there till he has eaten and drunk the last sixpence of it : then back to unpeeled potatoes and repose ! Bray a fool in a mortar, he will not depart from his folly. . . . Jane was sitting waiting for me, or rather running out half-distracted to meet me : she bids me say she rued right sore not coming on with me, and will surely do so next time. She is still in the way of improvement ; proceeding, slowly. We ride, and drive, and drink trefoil (threefold) and other bitters, and do the best we can. The weather is very sultry and thirsty ; rain would do us good, as well as the grass. Jane goes to Dumfries in the Gig to-morrow with the Boy ; a-shopping, and will take this along with her. . . . The peats are all home ; a most effectual- looking stack : ninety cart-loads to front the winter with. We have got hay too ; Rowan- tree came and offered me what I wanted at 6d. a stone ; I sent Peter Austin down to inspect the weighing for me, and now the loft is quite choke-full : 1 80 stones of Rowantree's, and per- haps 50 that were left of Alick's. The horses seem very willing to eat it. . . . As to my work, it wears but a sluggish look yet : I have been translating and. revising some German things for the Magazine, and am now done ; a larger task must forthwith be entered on. I must not come back to you, till this be finished : when I cannot positively say ; you shall hear from me how I get on. Would it be quite impossible that some of you should 1 832 TO HIS MOTHER 321 come up hither and see us before shearing- time : say Jane, my valued Correspondent ; would nobody take her work for a week ; she engaging to do the like for that body some other time ? You said once, you would come when the rasps ^ were ready : now here they are, and the blackbirds eating them all. In any case, tell Jane to order me a Leghorn (coarse) broad-brimmed Hat from the Grahames, to be got ready with all despatch : the measure of my Hat, outside^ is just two feet aiid one half-inch, no more and no less : my shape (of a flattish brim, slightly turned up behind) the people already know. Tell her also to write to me with all minuteness very soon. I am taking it for granted that my dear Mother, and the rest of them, are in the usual way : but need from time to time to be assured of it. M'Diarmid, who clatters everlastingly,^ about cholera, declared last week that it was near you ; as indeed it may soon be near us all. It will go its course, and keep [the path] ap- pointed it, and do the work marked out for it : why flutter and fluster ourselves ? Did our great Creator and sure Redeemer send us the cholera ; or did some other send it ? I think it is a folly even to speak of the subject, unless there is some new light to be thrown on it ; such as "the able Editor" has not to throw. I enclose you, on a [little card] a small stave by Goethe, which occurred in the thing I was translating. 1 Raspberries. 2 In the Dumfries Courier, of which he was editor. Y 322 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 Alas, dear Mother, the Paper is done, and I hardly begun. But indeed I know not when I should end. I must now out for my gloaming- shot'' on the Glaisters Hill side. — May God keep you all ! I forget no day to think of you, X.O pray for you in my way. Be good and faithful, "loving one another," as it is com- manded. Good-night! T. Carlyle. XCIII. — To Alexander Carlyle, Catlinns. Craigenputtock, i2tk August 1832. My dear Brother — I am just in the bustle of setting out to avoid the dirty " Gunner- bodies ;"^ and having many things to prepare and adjust, cannot write you more than a line. We had determined on a drive to Kirkchrist ; ' Jane to go with me, if she could : I wrote the people to that effect ; and now Jane not being able to go with me, I must go myself, — most reluctantly, now when it has come to the point ! Indeed, I think I would willingly give a couple of guineas, had I liberty to stay quietly at home, and follow my affairs. These wretched Devil's- servants of Gunners ! However, I shall try to get round them another year. Meanwhile, this journey, as in spite of all my reluctance I in- wardly feel, will do me good. . . . I have not been idle, at least not at ease, since we parted ; yet the quantity of work done is very 1 Twilight-interval, an idle time before the candles aie lit. 2 Come for the grouse-shooting, and " felt to be a nuisance " by the Carlyles. — See Reminiscences, i. 84. 3 To see his old friends the Churches, late of Hitchill. 1832 To ALEXANDER CARLYLE 323 small. I have packed off two little (mostly translated) pieces for Magazine Fraser ; this is all I have yet got quit of. Another thing or two are on the anvil ; but in a very rough state. I must not look Annandale in the face till I have done at least one of them. You will hear before then. I have now and then enough ado to keep myself stiffly at work : as you know well, how- ever, there is no other course for one in this lone Desert ; where if a man did not work, he might so easily run mad. When vapours of solitude, and longings after the cheerful face of my fellow- man are gathering round me, I dash them off, and the first lusty swing of Industry scatters them away, as cock-crowing does spectres of the Night. Let not a living man complain ! His little Life is given him for the sake of an Eter- nity : let him stand to it honestly ; all else is quite unimportant to him. This time fifty years, as I have often said to myself, the question will not be, Wert thou joyful or sorrowful ? but, Wert thou true or wert thou false } Was thy little task faithfully done, or faithlessly ? So we will move along ; and fear no man, and no devil — but the one within us, which also we will to the last war with. I believe myself to be getting really by some hardly perceptible degree stronger in health both inward and outward : perhaps, one day, I may triumph over long disease, and be myself again ! Still I know, healthy or sick, conquering or con- quered, the son of Adam has no blessedness to look for but honest toil (which will never be joy- 324 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE _ 1832 ous but grievous) : let him toil at the thing beside him, and bless Heaven that he has hands and a head ! . . . T. Carlyle. XCIV. — To his Mother, Scotsbrig. Craigenputtock, Tuesday, 2isi August 1832. My dear Mother — Alick would tell you, and the last Newspaper would tell you to ex- pect a word from me to-night. I will tell you that I am well, that we are both well, and this is nearly my whole message. I have sat these two days, in the solitary moors, reading here (at a French Book, which is my task) from nine in the morning till ten at night, with hardly inter- mission for my meals and my pipes : so that my head is quite filled with foreign matters, and I could almost forget that beyond these Heaths there is a wide Earth, and I myself am not out of the world, but still in it. You will be thank- ful, I know, for any sort of stuff I can write you. There is the last Edinburgh Review with my Paper on the Corn-Law Rhymes in it ; which you are to read but not detain ; for the first sight of it properly belongs to Alick, and the Parcel was forgotten by accident when the Boy went down with the Horse. Let Alick have it, I pray you, by the first opportunity (along with that little Note) ; if you want to see more of it, he will send it back, and you can take pennyworths.^ The last Number of ■^ Take it by bits, at your leisure. i832 TO HIS MOTHER 325 Erasers Magazine is come to hand ; you can return it along with the Review, by Notman, when you are satisfied : other little things I might send in the Book way ; but this, as I judge, is no reading time with you, but a time for plying sickles, and weary limbs. My dear Mother, every time I hear that you are well, I hear it as an unexpected bless- ing ; and live in a continual kind of apprehen- sion. Let the good Jean take pen again, and tell me all how the matter stands ; what you are doing, how you are, and every one is. These foolish fears one should strive to banish ; they are unprofitable, perhaps sinful : but a natural cowardice and faint- hear tedness is in one. I daresay, the truth is you are all reaping corn ; and busy and moderately well : had one only a glass to see you all at work by, now and then ! But it is needless wishing ; one would be for a trumpet next, to hear you by, and speak with you by. I set off, as Alick may have informed you, on Monday morning gone a week, to be out of the road of Gunners and such like : the Gunners, as I found, actually came, and would have staid had I been there. However, I have now set about letting the Game of the place, and so shall be troubled with it no more. For the rest, I had a pleasant sort of tour (among the Churches of Kirkchrist, Jeffray^ of Girthon, etc.) ; and returned on Thursday evening no worse for my excursion. People were all very 1 An old college friend, minister of Girthon. 326 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 kind ; the country was all beautiful to behold ; I saw various persons familiar to me very long ago (at College and elsewhere), whose whiskers were now getting gray, whom I could not look upon without interest. I will tell you about it all when we meet. I passed Lochinbreck Well, too, and drank a tumbler of their arsenic water : finally, I was very glad to see the Wife running out to meet me, in her green veil (for midges), and welcome me to my own solitude again. . . . Except two little trifles for Fraser, not printed yet, I have done as good as nothing since I saw you ! I have not been idle either ; but somehow it has kithed ill.^ I have now begun a long thing (on a Frenchman called Diderot), and must not stir, if I can help it, till it be done. Alas ! I have still upwards of twenty large volumes (one per day) to read, before I can put pen to paper! However, it must be done ; and so shall be done, if I keep my health. You will hear from me again before that : nay, if it threaten to detain me too long, I will run and leave it for three days after all. If I go to Edinburgh in winter, both this and another long piece ought to be done first : I must struggle what I can. Jeffrey is not paid yet ; ^ but can now be paid any day, and leave me a handsome enough sum over. Napier I believe owes me more. I am in debt 1 There is little to show for it. 2 Probably the money lent by Jeflfirey to Dr. Carlyle. — See ante, pp. 231, 315. 1 832 TO HIS MOTHER 327 to no Being — but to you, and the Great Lender and Giver ; to the rest I pay as well as borrow : what more would I have ? The Paper on Goethe, I see, is published in London last week; it will be here before very long ; after which I will send Scotsbrig a reading of it. I reckon it but little worth, either at Scotsbrig or elsewhere. . . . I still read in the Bible. Did you ever hear oi John Welsh's Sermons ? It is the brave old John Welsh of CoUieston, son-in-law to Knox. I saw the Book at Jeffray's of Girthon, who said they were among the best sermons he had ever read. I think, for the sake of relation- ship and ancestry,' we should seek them out : in Edinburgh I will make a trial ; and perhaps find some far earlier and better copy than Jeffray's. But, at length, dear Mother, good-night ! Bid Jean write, — write with minuteness and despatch. I asked about her getting hither : but, alas, I suppose it is over now till after Harvest ; we will see to it then. My Brotherly love to Jamie and Jenny and all the rest of them. Tell them all to be good and true ; there is no other benefit a man with all his cunning can extract from Life. Life is short, Eternity is long ! Wise and good was he who commanded, saying, " Little children, love one another." — Good-night, my dear Mother ; may God ever be with you ! — Your affectionate Son, T. Carlyle. 1 See Reininiscences, i. 133. 328 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 XCV. — To Alexander Carlyle, Catlinns. Craigenputtock, ()th September 1832. My dear Brother — I have got into a small perplexity here, in which I need your assist- ance. It relates to the gray mare. Last Wednesday afternoon, Jane and I thought of having a little drive in the Gig, and got yoked and seated accordingly, with the Beast all brushed and corned, whose behaviour on the last occasion, as on all previous ones, had given us no reason for distrust ; least of all on the score of temper. Nevertheless, at the first crack of the whip what does the brute do but whirl round upon the Green, and attempt rearing ; to the infinite terror of the Leddy, who forthwith dismounted, declaring she would venture no step farther ! I reassured her ; led and then drove, still with some uneasiness, to the outer gate ; where, having discovered that the choke-band was tighter than it should be, and slackened it, Jane was persuaded to get in again, and away we drove without further sign of obstruction. All went well as possible, till we got to M 'Knight's,^ whose wife and children were busy disloading his cart (about five in the afternoon) : the Beast made a kind of volunteer halt there, but easily enough went off again ; and then about ten steps farther, we met one of the shoemaker's children trailing a child's cart, at which our quadruped took 1 John M'Knight, the Glenessland carrier. 1832 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 329 offence, and shied considerably, yet got past without splutter, and then — simply set to work and kicked and plunged as if Satan were in her, till her harness is all in tatters, and, as she still cannot get away, lies down ; whereupon I (who had sat doing or saying very little) step out with my reins, seize the bridle, get Jane out, get the foolish brute free of her straps, — and our gigging has reached an untimely end ! The suddenness and then the quietness and calm deliberation of the business were matter of astonishment: one minute we are driving prosperously along, in three minutes more we 2iTe. gigless. M' Knight's wife kept disloading her cart all the while, as if it had been nothing out of the common run. The poor woman is very stupid, and indeed in the family way at present. John, however, arrived before all was over, and helped us what he could. We borrowed an old saddle from him, and walked off; leaving the gig- wreck in his warehouse : at Sundaywell I set the poor Leddy on this old saddle, and leading the mare myself in all quietness arrived home in quite other equip- ment than we had departed. The Boy took Harry and a pair of Cart-ropes, and had the Clutch^ home at dusk : it was far less injured than you would have thought ; nothing broken but the leather - mass and two leather straps that fasten on the splinter-hat (swing-tree bar) which the traces hook upon ; and the under wood- work (I mean the continuation of the 1 Old gig. 330 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 shaft, nearly above the axle-tree on the left side) rather bruised and twisted than broken. This the Vulcan has already mended, quite effectually, without difficulty. As for the har- ness it is done utterly ; flying in dozens of pieces : you never witnessed such a piece of work as I had to get it thrummed together in any way, so that it would drive as far as the smithy ; a saddle-crw^per fixed on it ; one trace lengthened and a new eye cut, the other short- ened to the utmost (to make both equal) : spliced bridle, etc. etc. : the most Irish-looking vehicle perhaps ever seen in these parts. The question now remains : What is to be done ? As for the harness, all things considered, I ought not perhaps to be sorry that it is finished : we seldom went out without something in it breaking ; and nobody knows how long one might have gone on cobbling and stitching, always throwing new money away. A quite fresh harness can be got (a Saddler at Thorn- hill anxiously showed me one, . nay two) for little more than five pounds ; and it will be best that we are obliged to get a new one. I have no skill at all in these matters ; and will not deal with the Thornhill man, till you and I have investigated Dumfries together, and found nothing better there. Harry will draw us at any rate through winter ; with the present tackle, one may bring the vehicle down to get new tackle, and that is all we can expect of it. With regard to the Mare, I must now leave i832 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 331 you to act for me, and judge for me. Jane has declared that she will drive with her no more ; and indeed I think it were very unwise, unless with quite other security than any skill of mine. We must sell her then, I suppose, if anything like the value is to be had for her. The old money would please me sufficiently ; or indeed any money you think her worth. I may men- tion, however, my own persuasion is that the Beast, after all, is thoroughly what is called quiet; that it was my poor driving that mainly caused the accident ; had I given her an effectual yerk with the whip when she first began kicking, or rather offering to kick, it had been all right. No shadow of vice in the creature have I ever seen before or since. — Unfortunately, as you see, she is in poorish condition for sale ; one of the hind feet too has got the hair peeled, which perhaps could not grow in time. The Rood Fair ^ is in two weeks. I have no food here to fatten any quadruped ; but Jamie, I think, has plenty of clover, and you must take him into counsel. Indeed, he was once talking about keeping her, or some like her; for her work till grass-time again ; so here is another possi- bility for us. My persuasion is that any handy man could make this mare do anything he liked without difficulty : and perhaps had she got a winter of carting and ploughing and other sobering, she might be easier to deal with next summer. Manage as you see best. I 1 An annual fair held at Dumfries the end of Septem- ber. — M. C. 332 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 think the horse a good one and very cheap : however, I have no reluctance to part with her. I do not think she will ever ride very handsomely with me; she is flail -legged, skittish a little, and does not seem to thrive here (she has had oats and grass and very little work) ; she does nothing well but the jog-trot, and about forty yards of cantering ; her jjj/NEWs are quite loose under you. Larry was quite another at her age. I believe I must renounce the thought of a riding horse ; at all events, your little black mare would ride as well as she yet does, and for all else would content me infinitely better. Again, I say, decide for me and act for me. I think there never was such a long-winded deluge of a Narrative poured out by me, as this same, on so small occasion ! I am excessively stupid to-night, and in haste too. So, my dear Brother, you must just interpret what I mean by your own acuteness of wit. Send the ^oyo^ early on Tuesday morning ; he has things to get at Dumfries. Of course you can send no positive word what is to be done with the mare, till you have seen Jamie and consulted with him, and considered with yourself : but tell me when you can meet me at Dumfries to buy new Harness, and whether the Rood Fair is the only day shortly you could come on, and whether that would do for the purpose. I like such gather- ings very ill. Moreover, do not by any means leave your harvesting for that errand : we are in no pressing haste. — And so I conclude this 1832 rO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 333 confused interminable story of The Gig De- molished, or Pride gets a Fall. I am tolerably well (and so is Jane); my reading is done within two days, and then I have five stern weeks of writing. Wish me good- speed ! I must and will be through it. We shall meet before then, I hope. — I often think of you here, in these solitudes ; and how the places that once knew you, now know you no more, and I am left alone on the Moor. Cour- age ! Let us stand to our tasks, and give the rest to the winds. We shall meet often yet, in spite of all ; and often hear each that the other is behaving like a brave man. I know no other welfare in this Earth. — Jean writes us that your house is roofed again ; we rejoice to fancy you free from rain-drops ; and fronting the Winter with better shelter. Catlinns will have a new, face when I come, — which will be, I trust, when this " Article " is over. — You would see John's Letter ; you would get the Review and the Printed Piece on Goethe. I can lend you other things of the Magazine kind : but suppose you to be far too busy for reading as yet. Tell me how goes your harvest ; when you hope to be done ; how you are all. — You will soon see our dear Mother ; tell her of our welfare, and that she will before long hear of us again. Thank Jean for her two letters ; say the Hat does excellently ; no news I can get is so valuable to me as that our Mother and all of you are well. Love one another. One day we shall not all be well any longer. Our kindest 334 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 wishes to little Janekin and her Mother. The " new creature " will be a great solace to you ; receive her and retain her as "sent from God." — Remember me and my Leddy to our Mother and my good Letter-writing Jean, and every other one of them, and say we shall both be down ere long, were my Article but done. — God be with you, dear Brother! — Ever your affectionate, T. Carlyle. XCVI. — To Alexander Carlyle, Catlinns. Craigenputtock, Tuesday, i&th September 1832. My dear Alick — . . . The Limbs of the Law summoned me down to Dumfries, on Sat^ urday last to " serve as Juryman ;" I went ; and answered to my namej about half- past ten o'clock : this was all the duty I had to do. The case was a Sheriff's one ; of a wretched sagtail chimney-sweep, who had stolen an Ass, value twenty shillings, in the Parish of Ewes : they sentenced him to imprisonment ; after which the fifty or sixty men who had been obliged to throw by their work and mount their horses on his account, were dismissed, and went their way. I contrived, however, to get my little bits of business done ; and so, being very much pressed by work here, was obliged to resolve on not losing another day, even though I had the prospect of meeting you there. The rather as I now find that we can do a while without new Harness. I got an awl and i832 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 335 threads up from Dumfries by the Boy, and have made the most surprising job of it ; you would not know that anything had happened. Then, as we are to be away in winter, and so forth, it seemed to me the new Harness might spoil : besides, what is true, there is no super- fluity of money going just now. I have paid the Advocate (last Saturday), and have still a few pounds over, and more due ; but it will all be wanted, and more, too, that I have yet to earn for Edinburgh and its expenses. So we will let the Harness lie : if you have any chance, pray inform yourself at the Saddler's what such a thing can be had for ; it will be to purchase by and by, if we keep the Clatch running ; which, while resident here, I see not how we can help doing. Jemmy and you, I daresay, will be at the Rood Fair : can you not come up hither at night, and see what we are doing, and rest yourselves till Saturday ? I fear, not ; and yet it is per- haps possible, if you are through the corn, and the Potatoes not begun yet. We shall see. . . . We know not yet when we go to Edinburgh ; I have still much work to do ; it cannot be till a month or so after Martinmas. We have hired the old servant, whom you gave a ride to last Whitsunday : she can ride, yoke, etc. ; so that we think of dismissing Robert, for whom there will be no work. Now on this latter point I had a message to you from Jane, and partly from myself : it is to see whether Jamie needs a Boy of that kind through winter, for I think 336 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 he had one last winter, and that this might suit him. He is expert enough with horses, rather a good carter I think ; willing to work, but totally unable to get through with almost any work, unless there be some co-mmander near him, when he will stretch himself really hand- somely enough. He performs pretty well (not exorbitantly) with the spoon, is not ever in the least troublesome : but the thing that interests us above all things in him is the natural sense the poor creature manifests ; his love of know- ledge in all sorts ; and what is of infinitely greater moment even than this, his innocence and veracity. We have never detected him telling the smallest falsehood, or so much as prevaricating. I could like well to fancy the poor creature in good hands, where he would see and hear honest sensible things said and done ; and be stirred up and sharpened, even by roughish usage to put himself forth into exertion. He is very desirous, it seems, to learn husbandry work ; and could easily learn it, had he a tight stirring master. Tell the Scotsbrig people about all this ; and see whether they say anything. We shall likely send him down to the Fair at any rate, and he will see some of you at Beck's.^ I have taken up all your sheet with this small charitable matter, which is of a sort one ought not to neglect. — There are four Numbers of Eraser for you, and a Life of Mary Woll- 1 A coachmaker's, in whose stable the horse was lodged when at Dumfries. — M. C. 1832 TO JAMES CARLYLE 337 stonecraft (once a famous woman) : I think they will serve you till we come down. — Alas, I have a long dour job before me first ; but I am toiling at it, and it cannot last me long. Tell my dear Mother that I am as impatient to come as she can be to have me ; that I will set off the very day I am at liberty ; lastly, that I think surely in four weeks from this date we may hope to see you. It was cleverly done to slate your house with your "own hand" (as Edward Irving used to sign his name), and get it over before Tirl- trees ^ season. You will have a very tolerable place of it, heartsome in summer, stormtight in winter ; I hope and believe it will not disap- point your honest calculations in other respects. Courage, my dear Brother ! The willing arm will yet find work, and wages for it : " There is aye life for a living body." We are all born to hard labour ; and might easily have been born to worse. — I have filled up all your sheet with "mere nothings;" and must now desist, and wrap up. God be with you always ! Ever your affectionate, T. Carlyle. XCVII. — To James Carlyle at Dumfries. Craigenputtock, Tuesday night, i^tk September 1832. My dear Jamie — If Alick saw you, he would be speaking something of this Boy. Since then we have altered our figure a little. The poor honest slut of a Boy would very 1 See ante, p. 173. Z 338 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1832 gladly have gone to Scotsbrig, if he went any- whither ; but looked so inexpressibly wae to go away at all, that we could not but resolve to leave him in peace. If he is worth his victuals to you, when we set out for Edinburgh, or at any time till we return, you shall have him : if not, he "will go home ; and get to the school a while." So it is settled. I hope you are come ^ to get me rid of that Mare, and will prosper some way. I believe her well worth the money you gave for her ; but care not if I never see her face again. Catlinns ^ and you will, I know, make the most of the market, and do for me far better than I could for myself. We are in great " wishfulness " to know what is going on at Scotsbrig and at Catlinns ; whether your Harvest is done, and well done, etc. etc. Will you come up, and tell us : either, or both of you ? Otherwise send word with the Boy. At worst, I will come by and by, and see. The Boy has a Basket of wares, and mes- sages to do, then leave to look about him till four d clock. Forward him at that hour, if he come in your way. — My best Blessing with you both ! — Your affectionate Brother (very busy), T. Carlyle. 1 Up to Dumfries. 2 jjjg brother Alick. 1832 TO MR. JOHN AITKEN 339 XCVIII. — To Mr. John Aitken, Dumfries.^ Craigenputtock, idth October 1832. My dear Uncle — Judge if I am anxious to hear from you ! Except the silence of the Newspapers, I have no evidence that you are still spared. The Disease,^ I see, has been in your street ; in Shaw's ; in Jamie Aitken's ; it has killed your friend Thomson : who knows what further was its appointed work ! You I strive to figure in the meanwhile, as looking at it, in the universal terror, with some calmness, as knowing and practically believing that your days, and the days of those dear to you, were now, as before and always, in the hand of God only ; from whom it is vain to fly ; towards whom lies the only refuge of man. Death's thousand doors have ever stood open ; this indeed is a wide one, yet it leads no farther than they all lead. Our Boy was in the town a fortnight ago (for I believe, by experience, the infectious in- fluence to be trifling, and- quite inscrutable to man ; therefore go and send whithersoever I 1 This letter is reprinted from the Dumfries Standard, 9th February 1881. 2 Cholera, which , was exceptionally severe at Dumfries, owing, it is supposed, to its unwholesome " Closes " (a sur- vival from old Border warfare times, when houses had been crowded near the castle for safety) ; but chiefly to its water supply, taken in carts from the river which served also as the only conduit for the drainage of the town. The population was then 10,000; between the 15th September and 27th November over 500 persons died, — 340 lie buried in one grave. — Macdowalts History of Dtcmfries. 340 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1833 have business, in spite of cholera) ; but I had forgot that he would not naturally see Shaw or some of you, and gave him no letter ; so got no tidings. He will call on you to-morrow ;- and in any case bring a verbal message. If you are too hurried to write in time for him, send a letter next day "to the care of Mrs. Welsh, Templand, Thornhill " : tell me only that you are all spared alive ! We are for Annandale, after Thornhill, and may possibly enough return by Dumfries. I do not participate in the panic. We were close beside cholera for many weeks in London : " every ball has its billet." I hear the Disease is fast abating. It is likely enough to come and go among us ; to take up its dwelling with us among our other maladies. The sooner we grow to compose ourselves beside it, the wiser for us. A man who has reconciled himself to die need not go distracted at the manner of his death. God make us all ready ; and be His time ours ! — No more to-night. — Ever your affectionate, T. Carlyle. XCIX. — To Dr. Carlyle, Rome. 18 Carlton Street, Stockbridge, Edinburgh, ith January 1833. My dear Brother — ... It was but last night that we got our household transported hither, by the Thornhill coach ; and as neither Jane nor I slept much, Jane not at all (thanks to the Watchman's care about the hour), I am 1 833 TO DR. CARLYLE 341 not in very bright spirits at present : however, I have a vacant forty minutes, and will begin to do a duty, which is always one's best resource. I have yet seen but little of Edinburgh beyond a few of the cloth-making, shop-keeping sort: I am to go and dine with old uncle Bradfute^ (at a precise moment) ; will therefore reserve all Edinburgh things till the end of my Letter, which will not be accomplished till to-morrow. — I have been once at Scotsbrig since I wrote you (if not twice, for I am dim about my last date) ; I set off exactly this day gone a week, through a world of frost-mist and sno^-slush, being almost superstitiously determined to see my Mother once more before we went. She was sitting at tea (in the low end-room), and stood silent with amazement to see me there all swimming with slobber^ (for she had de- spaired of me two days before) ; but soon got me stript of travelling gear, and otherwise lovingly attended to ; and then we sat talking the whole night ; for the rest of them were all gone to Brand's of Craighouse to a New-year's Party.^ She looks older, our dear Mother, within these two years ; yet her health is still wonderfully tolerable : her spirits, as we can all understand, have been much weighed down, so that her old cheerfulness is gone, perhaps for long ; nevertheless the faith she has sus- 1 A relation of Mrs. Carlyle, a partner in the firm of Bell and Bradfute, booksellers, in Edinburgh. 2 Slush, liquid mud. 2 The Brands were relations of the Carlyles. — See Remini- scences, i. 40. 342 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1833 tains her from despondency, and the love we all endeavour to show her is most lovingly re- sponded to. She depends much on me, as the eldest ; and I feel it as a sacred duty to divide my last fraction of earthly substance or faculty in her cause. One of her very first questions is always : " Hast thou heard onything fra the Doctor ? " She speculates greatly about your home-coming ; and says if it be the Almighty's good pleasure she shall yet live to meet you. A Letter from you to herself, not so much filled with expressions of feeling, as with minute de- tails about your way of life, purposes, Befinden und Hoffen, would gratify her much. She often speaks of you with more joy perhaps, not with more love than formerly ; and now and then makes us laugh by some such phrase as " when the Doctor was sucking ! " The rest were all in their usual heart. . . . This is not properly a noisy place but the reverse ; in a little while we shall learn the train of things, to endure or to avoid, and so do well enough. It is an excellent Floor of its sort ; two really dashing Rooms, with three Bedrooms, Kitchen and all etceteras, for £0^ a month. We have engaged it for three months, that is till the beginning of April. You re- member 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 stretches to the left. Now Carlton Street is the first street at 1833 TO DR. CARLYLE 343 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, where are such trees that a rookery has established itself in them. So much for our whereabout, which I know you will take pleasure in figuring. The question : what we expect or intend here .■* is also not very ill to answer. I expect little ; to see some Books, some People ; to live for twelve weeks, with eyes and ears open ; and wait das Weitere. In some days too I shall have my writing-desk in order, and compose somewhat ; were it only to pay expenses. I have long been very remiss in the matter of writing ; indeed have not had so long an in- terval of reading and idling for above twelve months. But my head is not vacant ; neither has that past time been wholly barren, — though nearly enough so. I know not what I shall write first ; perhaps something for Fraser (who pays best, and is the sweetest to deal with) ; , but you shall hear. Naso I saw yesterday walking along the streets, but kept clear of him — for a day or two. He has but one fault but that one is a thumper : he seems very scarce .of money ! He only paid that Paper Characteristics, after twice being dunned, some three weeks ago, and then rather sparingly I thought. Another Paper he still owes me ; but will and must pay it. Cochrane^ is keeping the Diderot I conjecture for his next Number ; 1 Editor of the Foreign Quarterly Review. 344 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1833 that will be some four months hence. That is all of my Scriptory Economics I had to tell you.^ By Heaven's grace, I nowise want merchants (of a sort) for my ware ; and can still, even in these days, live. So long as that is granted, what more is there to ask ? All Gigmanity is of the Devil, devilish : let us rather be thankful if we are shut out even from the temptation thereto. It is not want of money or money's worth that I could ever complain of; nay often too it seems to me as if I did best when no praise was given me ; and I stood alone be- tween the two Eternities, with my feet on the rock : but what I mourn over is the too fre- quent obscuration of Faith within me ; the kind of exile I must live in from all classes of articu- late - speaking men ; the dimness that reigns over all ray practical sphere, the etc. etc., for there is no end to man's complaining. One thing I have as good as ascertained, that Craigenputtock cannot forever be my place of abode ; that it is, at present, and actually, one of the worst abodes for me in the whole wide world. One day I will quit it ; either quietly, or like a muirbreak^ — for I feel well there are things in me to be told which may cause the ears that hear them to tingle ! A lies ■mit Mass und Regel ! As yet I decide on nothing ; will nowise desert the whinstone stronghold till I better see some road from it. 1 Part of the remainder of this letter is in Froude's Life, ii. 327. ^ Burst of waters from a lake. i833 TO DR. CARLYLE 34S I could live again in Edinburgh ; perhaps still more willingly in London, had I means ; my good Wife is ready for all things : so we wait what the days bring forth/ Perhaps your place and mode of settlement might do something to determine us ; we shall see how it turns. Meanwhile clear enough it is that /, in these very present days, ought to — write something true for the Periodicals ! I said I had no Edinburgh news : I have yet seen only the houses and pavements. The whole place impresses me as something village- like ; after the roaring Life-floods of London, it looks all little, secluded, almost quiescent. But again it is very clean, and orderly in compari- son ; on the whole, a desirable place. One thing village-like is the number of known faces I have met on the streets ; all old friends, grown a little grayer in the whiskers. I encoun- tered Brewster yesterday ; in a canvassing for the Natural Philosophy Professorship, vacant by the death of Leslie. There seems great doubt whether he will get it. The Tory Town- Council driven desperate and distracted by the figure of the time are bent, as their last act, to make a signal job of this ; and put in a certain Forbes, age about twenty-three, never till this moment heard of by any man.^ This seems to be the main article of Bookshop gossip for the 1 Froude leaves out, without omission marks, what follows here, as far as to "against the evil" on p. 347. 2 James David Forbes ; afterwards much and well " heard of." He held the Professorship till i860. 346 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1833 time. The elections are over : Jeffrey and one Abercromby (a Liberal Whig) defeated the Tory wholly, and were chaired with great glory and renown. Jeffrey does not know yet that we are here ; otherwise he would be through, for it is but a stone-cast. They had an election contest at Dumfries too ; a monstrous-looking joiner's shed which they called a hustings stood erected at the west end of the mid-steeple, and there the people were perorating, one day when I happened to be down. Sharpe prevailed over Hannay ; pot over kettle : a shallower mortal never travelled so far in such a trade. But so it must be: they that took suck as they had never wanted. BuUer is returned for Liskeard. The Whigs prevail everywhere : only some five or siKperfect Radicals, among whom Cobbett for Oldham. The Tories may drink hemlock when they please, for they are extinguished not to be re-illumed. As for me, I take no hand in it, speak no word in it, whatsoever ; for the whole struggle is poor and small ; in thought, I am the deepest Radical alive in this Island, but allow it to rest there, having other to do. There will be infinite floods of contentious jargon emitted were the poor men got together ; and so they will "carry on till Loansdeal coom,"^ and then^. I suppose you see The Times 1 Till (Lord) Lonsdale come : " Old Cumberland woman, listening as the Newspaper was read, full of battling, warring and tumult all over the world, exclaimed at last : ' Aye, they'll carry on till Lonsdale coom, and he'll soon settle them aw !'" — Note of Carlyle's in Letters and Memorials, i. 91. 1833 TO DR. CARLYLE 347 Still, and know all these things as well as We see by the Newspapers that Lady Clare and Mr. Burrel are still at Rome, at least were lately : you must tell me all your move- ments and intentions. Your difficulties and disquietudes hide from me no less ; such I know you have, for you are on this Earth : ubi homines sunt injurice sunt. Let us be thankful each of us that he is rich enough to have a Brother ; one whose fidelity and love will never fail, let the contentious flesh introduce what superficial Discords it may. I say we should be thankful for such a possession ; and try to draw from it what good it will yield, taking deliber- ately precaution against the evil. Perhaps the Future will be kinder to us both : but is not the Present kind, full of work to do ? Write me all things, my dear Brother, and fear not that you shall ever want my sympathy. Keep diligent in business, fervent in spirit, serving God : that is the sum of all wisdom. — My Paper is near done; I feel sure I have forgotten much. No news from Irving or of him : the Tongue concern is quite out in this quarter : my poor lost Friend ! Lost to me, to the world and to himself . . . And now, alas, dear Jack, I am done also, and must close. Jane (whom I have gone to ask) sends you " no word but her kind love," which is better than nothing. Write soon. God bless you, dear John. — Ever your true Brother, T. Carlyle. 348 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1833 C. — To his Mother, Scotsbrig. 18 Carlton Street [Edinburgh], I"] th January 1833. My dear Mother — ... In my particular craft there seems to be nothing or very little astir ; all people are either selling Penny Magazines, or lying on their oars. I get no good of any Editor or Publisher I have yet seen ; come into no closer terms with them ; I suppose they rather think me a dangerous sort of fellow : happily too I need not disturb myself a jot about one of them ; having work enough elsewhere if I had three hands to work with. The truth is they are all at a kind of stand, poor fellows ; and know not clearly on what side to turn them. We see abundance of people ;. most of them, unhappily, are but unprofitable sights, yet at worst harmless, and good compared to none. Jeffrey is here very often ; talking like a pen-gun ^ (of very light calibre), always brisk and in good humour : he looks a great deal stronger than he did in London, is a little delighted with his Election ; and ready again to go and have himself half- killed — for nothing ! Such is men's lot. . . . 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. His learn- ing is great, his talent considerable ; we have 1 Pop-gun. 1 833 TO HIS MOTHER 349 long talks and walks together. He is the descendant of that " Robert Hamilton of Preston" (rather "a foolish man," as Sir William calls him) who commanded the Cam- eronians at Bothwell Brig. So much for my society here. I wish I could say that I had fairly begun work, and was once in the ' middle of some hearty piece of writing, all on fire about it : but, alas, such is not yet my case ; I am still only preparing and threatening to write. I go almost daily to the Advocates' Library, rum- maging among Books, and searching out a variety of things : by and by, I shall get buckled to the gear, and certainly do something notable, — one would think ! In the mean- time you can fancy us sufficiently : break- fasting about nine; reading, or innocently though still more idly employed receiving visitors till one or two ; about which hour I generally go out to walk ; then home to dine at four; after which the night is very generally our own, and we spend it in some sort of study till eleven, and" then, if all have gone right, are sound asleep by twelve. This is the history of our day. . . . But now here is the end. Give our kind love to all, let all be assured of our continual love. And so God bless you and guard you, my dear Mother ! — I am ever, your affectionate Son, T. Carlyle. 350 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1833 CI. — To Alexander Carlyle, Catlinns. 18 Carlton Street, Stockbridge, Edinburgh, 27 ik January 1833. My dear Brother — I sympathise truly with the painful incident that has befallen you. Your little Son has been lent you but a short while ; has but, as it were, opened his eyes on this strange Chaos of Time, and then as if affrighted, shrunk back into Eternity, hiding himself from the sin and woe in which we that are left on Earth must still struggle. There is something infinitely touching in a history so brief and yet so tragic ; something infinitely mysterious too ; but indeed the longest life is scarcely longer than the shortest if we think of the Eternity that encircles both ; and so it is all mysterious, all awful and likewise holy ; and our sole wisdom is to bow down before our inscrutable Author, and say heartily in all things, God's will be done. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away ; blessed be the name of the Lord ! — I have many times pictured to myself that stern awakening you got: "I dinna hear the bairn breathing!" Yet surely, as you observe, it was a blessed mercy that you found the event to have hap- pened, as it were by the will of Providence alone ; and without mischance on your part, which would have rendered the affliction doubly severe. In all our griefs, it is truly said, there is something of mercy mingled. And so we will bid the little Wayfarer, whose journey was i833 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 35' SO short, Farewell : he is but gone whither we too are hastening to follow. — This winter I can figure you out in your country home, a little less lonely than the last : your household is more stirring, and you are in a neighbourhood where one likes better to fancy you. I trust piously still that the change was for your good. Continue to be diligent and prudent, and you have nothing evil to apprehend. The times and the country we live in press heavy on us all : but a certain hope of improvement is still reasonable ; nay, far better than any hope, a perfect assurance that if our Task be well done (which is always in our own power) all else will be well with us. So let the evil of the day be sufficient for the day : what the future may offer we will try to be ready for. Time and chance, as Solomon long since declared, happen unto all. It is pleasant for me to consider you as now once more in a Neighbourhood : I need not counsel you to study " as much as in you lies " to live in peace, in goodwill and sym- pathy with all men, more especially with those nearest you, whom you have most to 4o with. It is this mainly of having persons one takes interest in around one's house that makes a House into the far more precious thing, a Home. In all mortals one finds flaws ; nay in ones self more than in any other ; therefore let us pity and pardon ; even the poor creature that wrongs us was sore driven to his shifts, or he would not have wronged us ; he too 352 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1833 is pitiable and pardonable. . . . Next time you write I hope you will farther have to telL me that your financial reckonings have not dis- appointed you ; but that the Rent is actually all ready, if not paid; and so the Catlinns speculation looking as we all wish it. We will pray always, May the worst of our days be past! In fine I will ask only one thing: that you would mend that Bridge (down at the old Mill) : assuredly some one will get a mischief by it, if you do not ; at present I cannot think of it without a kind of horror. Mind this, now, and take warning in time. I have been living here in a curious un- satisfactory half-awake state : the transition is so singular from bare solitary moors, with only myself for company, to crowded streets and the converse of men. ... I am carrying on a sort of occupation ; but not with so much energy as I could desire ; still only with the assurance that I shall grow energetic. The people (of whom we see abundance) are all kind and courteous as heart could reasonably wish : nevertheless I feel myself singularly a stranger among them ; their notions are not mine ; the things they are running the race for are no prizes to me. In Politics, especially as here manifested, I take no pleasure at all ; the Tories, now happily driven into holes and corners, are quite out of date ; all the rest is Whiggery and Reform -Bill -for -ever, a most sandblind, feeble sort of concern ; a few Radi- i833 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 353 cals of the Henry Hunt^ sort are a still more pitiable set. The men stare at me when I give voiqe ; I listen when they have the word, " with a sigh or a smile." One great benefit I have, and can enjoy without - drawback : abundance of Books. I am almost daily in the Advocates' Library, ransacking many things ; my appetite sharpened by long abstin- ence. On the whole we do well . . . ; and one way or other, generally to profit, the mind is kept full. Edinburgh affects me quite peculiarly after London : it looks all so orderly, so quiet, so little. I incline often to wish we had never left it ; yet properly I cherish no regret for what is gone ; that too had its worth, its in- fluence on me for good, and lay among the things I had to do. I feel however, more and more plainly that Craigenputtock will absol- utely never prove a. wholesome abode for me; that I must try to get away from it, the sooner the better ; however, there is evidently no immediate prospect of such a thing, and in any case, we will do nothing rashly. I privately think sometimes we should not settle upon anything till Jack come home ; of which I am very glad that there is now a prospect. Dr. Irving, Keeper of the Advocates' Library, of whom you have heard me speak, has been talking lately very often about a Professorship at Glasgow, which will soon be vacant, the present incumbent being very old : this, as a 1 A noted political agitator and charlatan who died soon after this time. 2 A 354 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1833 thing that will be in the Lord Advocate's gift, our worthy Doctor thinks were the very thing for me. I bite at it with no eagerness ; yet have hinted it to Jeffrey, and will npt neglect it if it come in my way. We shall see. My own private impression is that I shall never get any Promotion in this world ; and happy shall I be if Providence enable me only to stand my own friend. That is (or would be) all the prayer I offer to Heaven. — In Literature all is as dull here as it could possibly be ; my old Manuscript is lying by me quiet ; there is no likelihood of its being printed this winter, for I have not the cash just ready, and it is a thing that can wait. I do not think of vexing my soul with Booksellers about it or any other thing again, — so long as I can help it. — But alas, dear Alick, my sheet is done. Our Mother has a Letter too, which she will read you, where will be found a little more news. By the way, may I trust that Jamie and you have come to some final measures about those Ecclefechan Houses^ and their management; and so relieving our good Mother from anxiety on that score. I know you will do what in you lies, it is well the part of us all. Jane sends her best wishes to her Namesake and every one of you. Let us find you all well and thriving in the month of April ! Write to me soon and explain all your hopes and cares to me. Bless God that in a too un- friendly world we are not without Friends. 1 The property of his mother. i833 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 355 — Ever, my dear Brother, your affection- ate, T. Carlyle. CII. — To Alexander Carlyle, Catlinns. Edinburgh, 4 Great King Street, 26th March 1833. My dear Alick — I am making up a Parcel to go this day, by the Dumfries Bookseller, to Scotsbrig ; and will not neglect, as the very first thing I set about, to answer your kind and acceptable Letter, which we have now had in hand since Saturday morning gone a week. You will not expect much sense of me ; for I have many Letters to write, little time, and many interruptions. Mrs. Welsh, and her Niece from Liverpool (a very pleasant young damsel) have been here for about a week ; our servant Nancy has plotted^ the skin off her foot, and goes hirpling^ along in most lame style, so that for the time, it is but a confused kind of house. We removed into it out of the old one at Stockbridge. . . . It gave us great satisfaction to hear from you so good an account of everything at Scotsbrig and Catlinns ; and to see . that for the present at least your labour does not prove in vain. It is saying much as things now go in this distracted country. Millions (a frightful word but a true one !) millions of mortals are toiling this day, in our British Isles, without prospect of rest, save in speedy death, to whom 1 Scalded. 2 Limping. 356 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1833 for their utmost toiling, food and shelter are too high a blessing. When one reads of the Lan- cashire Factories and little children labouring for sixteen hours a day, inhaling at every breath a quantity of zottoxy fuzz, falling asleep over their wheels, and roused again by the lash of thongs over their backs, or the slap of " billy-rollers " over their little crowns ; and then again of Irish Whitefeet, driven out of their potato -patches and mud-hovels, and obliged to take the hill- side as broken men, — one pauses with a kind of amazed horror, to ask if this be Earth, the place of Hope, or Tophet, where hope never comes ! A good practical inference too, every one of us may draw from it : to be thankful that with him it is not yet so, to be content under many griefs, and patiently struggle on towards a better day ; which, even in this world, cannot fail to dawn for the afflicted children of men. One grand remedy against the worst still lies partly open : America and its forests, where you have only the wild beasts to strive against !^ I understand there never was such emigration from these parts, at least from Edinburgh, as this year. People of all sorts are going : labourers, shopkeepers, even Writers to the Signet, and country Lairds. They are very right ; they will be all the better, and the country all the better for the want of them. — But, in the meanwhile, do you, my dear Brother, go on tilling the Dryfesdale clod, while 1 Alexander Carlyle did, in 1843, emigrate to America, settling on a farm of his own, near Brantford, Canada West, where he died in 1876. i833 TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE 357 it will yield you anything : surely it is probable, the Government, before matters come to the utmost press, will apply itself in earnest to Emi- gration, as the sole remedy for all that most immediately presses on us. Let us "possess our souls in patience, and await what can betide." . . . Edinburgh continues one of the dullest and poorest and on the whole paltriest of places for me. I cannot remember that I have heard one sentence with true meaning in it uttered since I came hither ! The very power of Thought seems to have forsaken this Athenian City ; at least, a more entirely shallow, barren, unfruitful and trivial set of persons than those I meet with never that I remember came across my " bodily vision." One has no right to be angry with them : poor fellows, far from it ! Yet does it remain evident that " Carlyle is wasting his con- siderable talent on impossibilities, and can never do any good." Time will show : for the present, poor man, he is quite fixed to try. At any rate there are some good Books here, that one can borrow and read ; kindly-disposed human creat- ures too, who, though they cannot without a shudder see one spit in the Devil's face so, yet wish one well, almost love one. The best is that I have been rather busy writing, and have finished a long sort of thing for Eraser's Maga- zine, to be called Cagliostro : it is very wild, but not untrue, so may do its part. Write away my man ! that is thy only chance : these poor persons, demean them as they may, "can do tU 358 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1833 neither ill nd good."}^ We have liberty to stay here till near Whitsunday ; but shall not likely continue far beyond the end of April : in May we can hope to see you at Catlinns. Except house-rent it seems hardly more expensive here than at Puttock, so much have things fallen in price ; or perhaps, mainly, so much has house- wife cunning risen ! We have not so comfort- able a roomy life as there ; but all else is far superior. — What we are to make of ourselves next winter, if we be spared so long, is not clear yet ; but will become so. . . . Jane doeis.not seem to improve of late : however, she has far more entertainment here. She is out at this moment, or would send her little namesake and you her love. And so God bless you all ! — Your affec- tionate Brother, T. Carlyle. cm. — ^To Dr. Carlyle, Paris. Templand, Thornhill, 17th May 1833. My dear Brother — If you arrive as you anticipated, at Paris on the 20th, this Letter again will be too late. A consummation which I have striven honestly to prevent Abut, as you see, and shall hear, without efifet^ Excuse this limited size of paper too ; for kt preseht I am i'n the transition-state, and divided from ,my tools. On Tuesday morning gone a week, 6\ir places were all secured in the Thornhill Coach, the baggage happily despatched the w^k 1 " Can do thee neither ill nor good." For the origin of this phrase, " become proverbial " with him see Carlyle's note in Letters and Memorials, i. 278. i833 TO DR. CARLYLE 359 before : but by the foolishest misunderstanding we found on reaching the North Bridge at half-past six, that the Coach was gone-^x!a.r&& minutes ago ! There was nothing for it but wearisomely waiting two days longer ; to which painful side of the alternative we reconciled ourselves the best way possible ; lying literally hidden, unknown to all our friends except two ; scarcely stirring out except at nightfall, and then very much with the feeling of revenants. I bathed twice in the Forth ; read a Life of Paul Jones, pieces of Sir George M'Kenzie, and meditated about enough of things. One incident that most of all reconciled me to the disappointment was the arrival (some two hours after our return) of your Florence Letter, which otherwise we must have waited for, and run the risk of losing, for it had already been at Dumfries, and might not, without hesitation, have been sent back. I determined to write forthwith ; yet not till I had seen the Scotsbrig people, and could tell you a positive tale. Well, on Thursday we did all happily get off, and, after a stifling stew of nine dusty hours, were set down at Glendinning's,^ all alive, but Jane utterly sick, hardly able to move hither in any fashion, and seized, as it soon appeared, with this universal Influenza, which has held her in confinement,, generally in bed, ever since. We sent the maid over to Craigenputtock, but no one else has yet been over there. It was Monday morning (for Mrs. Welsh too had 1 Inn at Thornhill. 36o LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1833 taken the Influenza) before I could get off for Scotsbrig ; writing there I found impossible (for want of time, and even of paper) : and it was only yesternight that I returned. Happily, however, after this tedious preamble, I am enabled to inform you that all is quite well in Annandale, that all in Nithsdale is improving and hopeful ; and so in the end your heart is set at rest. The Monday when I set off with Harry and the Gig was a quite beautiful day, and every- thing that occurred was of a kind to render thanks for. After the meekest of drives, down J^ water and the rest of them, Catlinns House, whitewashed and hospitable, rose on me over White-ween Hass '^ about three o'clock ; and in few minutes more Alick, hastening home from his potato ground, had his tea-table covered for me, and question and answer was in full pro- gress. ... At Scotsbrig they had heard my wheels in time ; my Mother was running out to meet me as of old ; I could thank God that here too I found everything w^ll. Our Mother seems better rather than worse in bodily health ; seems patient, contented, even cheerful. The rest of them seem to go on quite tolerably ; all in good agreement, in good heart, and proper behaviour. . . . And now here once more are we, stranded again on the wold (where we hope to be next Monday) with intent to pass another summer 1 Probably the local pronunciation of Whitewoolen-hass, a hill close by Catlinns. — M. C. i833 TO DR. CARLYLE ' 361 there. We are not out of funds ; we are free from debt, have liberty to live and let live. A Paper on Diderot was printed about a month ago ; character not known. Fraser has just sent me Proofs of a Cagliostro, one of the most distorted bad things (nottobey«/j-^) I ever wrote ; probably the last in that style. These two, worth near ;!f 100, the payment of which I reckon sure, form my present disposable capital. My chief project for the summer is to cut Teu- felsdreck into slips, and have it printed in Fraser s Magazine : I have not proposed it to him yet, and must go warily to work in that, for I have spoiled such things already by want of diplomacy. It will be worth almost ;^200 to me that way, and I shall get rid of it, which other- wise there is little hope of to any purpose or without great loss ; the Book-trade being still dead, — and as I reckon forever. I have much reading too, much thinking ; prospects of more society than last year : so we shall wait in a kind of rest. "Halte still und se/i Dick um : " that is every way my posture at present. Outwardly and inwardly a kind of closing of the First Act goes on with me ; the Second as yet quite un- opened. The world is fast changing, the ways and wants and duties of the world ; I myself am also, or ought to be, changing : there must be a readjustment. . . . Jane thankfully and not without hope accepts your offer of Physicianship ; I myself am of opinion that you will do her good. She is much weakened with this Influenza, and may 362 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1833 not have her strength again for weeks. A cough too still lingers, loth to leave. — I fancy this will be in Paris by Whitsunday. May it find you safe, waiting to receive it. We shall soon hear from you in reply, and then the next news, if all prosper, is that you are in England ! — . . And for the present, God bless you, dear Brother ! — Ever yours, T. Carlyle. CIV. — ^To his Mother, Scotsbrig, Craigenputtock, Tuesday night, 22d May 1833. . . . We got here on Monday, as I had cal- culated ; Jane still weak enough, but glad like me to get to any " bit hadding of her ain fr' a' that." She was rather sick during the drive ; but got fresher afterwards. We found every- thing about the house in complete order ; Nancy had been diligent ; and Peggy Austin had kept out the damp with great success ; indeed Jane says we never were drier, and not the smallest thing has gone wrong. Peter too has the Garden all trimmed up as neatly as ever it was : so far as they go nothing could be more perfect than their performance. We have seen none of them yet ; but are certainly bound to thank them heartily, " besides payment." 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 ! That men should plant and fence and laboriously rear shelter in this wilderness ; and then a hash of 1 83 3 TO HIS MOTHER 363 hashes come and in one hour consume the fruit of twenty years' industry ! However, it is need- less to speak anything about it. One comfort- ing circumstance is that it was rather a bad Planting ; though here again unluckily, it lies close to us, in daily view : it is the one at the north end of the " heathery park ;" between the Glaisters Hillside and the road ; on your left hand, as you set out from Stumpy to come hither. Joseph [M 'Adam] was in a great y?^ about it, we learn ; he also writes to Mrs. Welsh that he will "come good for it." Good ior it ! Can he make these black scrags into green trees again ? I have not seen him yet ; but will. — On the whole, I disturb myself comparatively little : what good shall I ever get of these woods at any rate ? Be not careful over much. . . . We should like you very well, just now ; and have even need of you. Jane is still very feeble (she had a wretched ill-turn of headache, etc., this very evening, not an hour ago) ; and there is no nurse but myself. I feel confident that she is getting strong again ; but it may be weeks before she is as well even as she was. . . . Continue to watch over your children, my dear Mother; and let us all continue to love and honour you. — Ever your affectionate, T. Carlyle. Jane had several little things to send : but, poor lassie, she is in bed ; and I will not let her rise to seek them. Tell the other Jane to write— directly unless you are coming. 364 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1833 CV. — To Mr. Eraser, Publisher, London. Craigenputtock, i^th May 1833. My dear Sir — On the Proofsheet of Cagli- ostro I marked an announcement that you would hear from me soon. I write to-day in more confusion than is desirable ; but rather so than lose another half-week. Most probably you recollect the Manuscript Book I had with me in London ; and how during that Reform hurly-burly, which unluckily still continues and is like to continue, I failed to make any bargain about it. The Manuscript still lies in my drawer ; and now after long deliberation I have determined to slit it up into strips, and send it forth in the Periodical way ; for which in any case it was perhaps better adapted. The pains I took with the composi- tion of it, truly, were greater than even I might have thought necessary, had this been foreseen : but what then ? Care of that sort is never alto- gether thrown away ; far better too much than too little. I reckon that it will be easy for the Magazine Printer to save me some thirty or fot-ty complete copies, as he prints it ; these can then be bound up and distributed among my Friends likely to profit thereby ; and in the end of all we can reprint it into a Book proper, if that seem good. Your Magazine is the first I think of for this object ; and I must have got a distinct negative from you before I go any farther. Listen to me, then, and judge. 1 83 3 TO MR. FRASER . 36S The Book is at present named "Thoughts on Clothes ; or Life and Opinions of Herr D. Teufelsdrockh, D. U. J.'V but perhaps we might see right to alter the title a little ; for the rest, some brief Introduction could fit it handsomely enough into its new destination : it is already divided into three " Books," and farther into very short " Chapters," capable in all ways of subdivision. Nay some tell me, what perhaps is true, that taking a few chapters at a time is really the profitablest way of read- ing it. There may be in all some Eight sheets of Eraser. It is put together in the fashion of a kind of Didactic Novel ; but indeed properly^ like nothing yet extant : I used to characterise it briefly as a kind of " Satirical Extravaganza on Things in General " ; it contains more of my opinions on Art, Politics, Religion, Heaven, Earth and Air, than all the things I have yet written. The Creed promulgated on all these things, as you niay judge, is mine, and firmly believed: for the rest, the main Actor in the business (" Editor of these Sheets," as he often calls himself) assumes a kind of Conservative (though Anti-quack) character ; and would suit Eraser perhaps better than any other Magazine. The ultimate result, however, I need hardly premise, is a deep religious speculative -radi- calism (so I call it for want of a better name), ^ " Now called Sartor Resartus," says Carlyle in his Note- book, September 1833. The hero of it, instead of, as hitherto, Teufelsdreck, " I mean to call Teufelsdrockh," he had told his brother John, in a letter of loth February 1833. 366 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1833 with which you are already well enough acquainted in me. There are only five persons that have yet read this Manuscript : of whom two have ex- pressed themselves (I mean convinced me that they are) considerably interested and gratified ; two quite struck, " overwhelmed with astonish- ment and new hope " (this is the result I aimed at for souls worthy of hope) ; and one in secret discontented and displeased. William Fraser is a sixth reader, or rather half-reader ; for I think he had only got half-way or so ; and I never learned his opinion. With him, if you like, at this stage of the business you can con- sult freely about it. My own conjecture is that Teufelsdrockh, whenever published, will astonish most that read it, be wholly understood by very few ; but to the astonishment of some will add touches of (almost the deepest) spiritual interest, with others quite the opposite feeling. I think I can practically prophesy that for some six or eight months (for it must be published without interruption), it would be apt at least to keep the eyes of the Public on you. Such is all the description I can give you, in these limits : now what say you to it ? Let me hear as soon as you can ; for the time seems come to set these little bits of Doctrine forth ; and, as I said, till your finale arrive, I can do nothing. Would you like to see the Manuscript yourself? It can come, and return, by Coach for a few shillings, if you think of that : it will of course want the Introduction, and various other 1833 TO HIS MOTHER 367 " O. Y.'s "^ that will perhaps be useful. I need not remind you that about showing it to any third party (as I have learned by experience) there is a certain delicacy to be observed : I shall like to hear from you first. Write to me, therefore, with the same openness as I have done to you ; we shall then soon see how it lies between us. . . . My Brother, I keep hoping, will one day ere long walk in upon you : he ought to be at Paris by this time, on his way homeward. . . . The airs are fresh here, the trees of the greenest ; and my cabbages flourish as briskly as Dio- clesian's. If you send any Books, etc., by Waugh, pray charge him strictly ; his Clerk (as our Proverb says) " is not to ride the water on." And now, in great haste, adieu ! Believe me always, my dear sir, most faithfully yours, T. Carlyle. CVI. — To his Mother, Scotsbrig. Craigenputtock, Tuesday, 2ith/une 1833. . . '. The Eraser's Magazine does contain a kind of Likeness ;^ liker than I expected. Jane specially claims the Number as hers ; has got her name on it ; and insists much that said title be respected. I partly expect from Fraser another copy or two of the Picture ; and shall not fail directly to send you one of them as 1 Notes by " Oliver Yorke." 2 Of himself, by Maclise, see ante, p. 307. 368 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1833 yours. The opposite Page will edify you very little ; in fact, it is hardly intelligible (not at all so except to persons of the craft), but compli- mentary enough, and for so foolish a business may be considered as better than a wiser thing. The writer is one Dr. Maginn, a mad rattling Irishman ; of whom perhaps you may have heard me speak. He wishes me well in his way ; which indeed is very far from mine. So let us be thankful for all mercies. . . . Since my return ^ I have mended and new -stuffed the Clatch, which really looks very gate -going ;^ I have read a little, dreamed a little ; and that is literally all that I have done. Fraser I believe is to have my Manu- script Book ; which will therefore require a very little sorting : but on the whole I prefer resting for a while ; at least as long as an uneasy conscience will let me. Absolute Idle- ness is a thing which, were it never so good, one cannot carry on long here. . . - CVII. — To Dr. Carlyle, London. Craigenputtock, ■z^th August 1833. My dear Brother^ — All the pains I had taken were well rewarded on Sunday evening, when your Letter came. It has solaced me here, and will give no less solacement to those 1 From a visit to Scotsbrig. 2 Respectable, road-worthy. 8 Since the last letter to him, Dr. Carlyle had returned to England, and made a short visit at Scotsbrig and Craigen- puttock, before again going to the Continent as physician to Lady Clare. 1 833 TO DR. CARLYLE 369 that love you elsewhere : I will send it off, as you conjecture, to Scotsbrig, to-morrow. We can now know that you are safe so far, and send our wishes after you with new clearness. My Mother said : " We'll no be sae ill, if we had the first Letter frae him." On Friday or Saturday (the former, as I calculate) a like comfort must be provided for you in return. Your steamboat, that agitated day, had scarcely cleared the Pier-head, when I was stripping and bathing ; my head and my heart, like your own, all full of painful obstruction and .confusion. It was half an hour before we set sail again, and near two o'clock before we reached the Annan shore.'' We could see your vessel storming along with you, already far to the west ; and not we only, but all your other Friends each from his several hillside had seen it and watched it, and 1 From Bowness, whither Carlyle had accompanied his brother in the boat. After mentioning his brother's departure, Carlyle writes in his Note-book, " John is a good man ; with far more talent than even yet he has unfolded fully, though already he begins to show himself as a skilful Physician, likely I imagine to prove useful and also acceptable. He has a boundless affectionateness ; this is his great quaHty, manifest- ing itself too at times in strange ways, as in humorous frolicking (even with pigs and horses, if there is no other Hying thing to frolic with), in the trustfuUest abandonment to all kinds of innocently foolish talk and sport, throughout, as a genuine inexhaustible fund of bonhommie, — the soul of all manner of useful sympathies and activities, of a character natural, at once worthy and amiable. How different from me ; how much happier and better ! We all love him, and have good reason. May the Unseen Powers, that mercifully look on mankind, bring him safe back to us ! " 2 B 370 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1833 could tell at what hour it had vanished behind St. Bees. . . . If it be God's merciful will, we shall yet all live to see your steamboat come foaming up the Solway, and bringing you safe back to us. I saw it once so from the Land- heads Brae ; and should be thankful for the feeling as long as J live. Next morning betimes Jamie and I were mounted for Catlinns, and breakfasted with a numerous hay-making party ; conjecturing that you might be already in the Mersey ; treating this and all things in the tone of Hope. I soon set forth, and plodded wearisomely through . the moors to Templand, where I arrived before dinner, with such a jaded, road-worn, woe- worn sort of feeling as you can conceive. The Sunday proved too wet for Dunscore, I went to Close- burn,^ and there heard Corson, uttering the wonderfullest jumble of affectations, imitations, wind and froth : not till next evening did we reach home, and find ourselves once more thoroughly alone. The sorrowfuUest blank had occurred here ; for me, I could not but feel so harried, so bereaved ; the half of my world was gone. . . . This, dear Brother, is our history since you left us. Nothing has occurred here, ex- cept the arrival, on Friday last, of a Piano- tuner, who for the small charge of 5s. 6d. has rehabilitated the Piano, and. brought me again the luxury of sweet sounds. We carried the poor instrument into the Dining-room, to 1 The Parish Church. i833 TO DR. CARLYLE 37 1 avoid the coming frosts, and there nightly I can have my tunes : it stands where the half-table did, against the wall right opposite the window ; the sofa is moved into its place, and the half- table into the sofa's, in the Drawing-room. Let me add also (for you love all these things) that Napoleon,' as too large for his station, has been moved into this Library of mine, under his Kinsman Byron, and your little Italian vase, with Goethe's medals in it and other etceteras, now stands in his place. The only other arrival was, on Sunday at dinner - time, that of the American Emerson, Gustave d'Eichthal's man ; the most amiable creature in the world, who spent an apparently very happy four-and-twenty hours with us, and then went his way to Words- worth's Lakes, to Liverpool, and home to Mas- sachusetts on Sunday next. We regretted that you had not seen him, as he that he had not found you in Rome. Of d'Eichthal he could tell me nothing, except that they parted a few weeks ago where you left them, the one for Florence and England, the other for Naples : indeed it appeared they had in reality met only once or twice. If you fall in with d'Eichthal, it will perhaps be friendly if you rather press yourself on him ; I figure him to be somewhat shrouded up within his own sorrow and regret, and understand his family are anxious to have his mind by all means diverted and cheerfully aroused. Tell him that he has much affectionate esteem from me ; that if he will come and see 1 A small copy in bronze of the Place Vendome statue. — M. C. 372 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1833 US here, we will give him the most cordial welcome. I suppose you will see his friends in Paris at any rate ; and be able there to tell me something more definite about him. . . . I cannot but see too that your mood of mind is the right one for you : nay, at bottom, as you often urged, were the right one for me also : your earnest counsels for Tolerance will not fail of their effect on me ; such are at all times whole- some mementoes, and forever true on their own side, and I know not why I should so often have taken them up at your hands under the argumentative aspect. Perhaps it was like a patient wincing under a bitter drug, which yet when over had its salutary tendencies. . . . God guide and keep you, dear Brother ! Amen ! T. Carlyle. One Major Irving of Gribton came here the other day, and took the shooting -of Puttock for ;^5 rent (of his own fixing), and even insisted on paying the notes down on the spot ! I gave them to the Dame for pin money civil services : \h&Jirst help this place ever brought us. . . . CVIIL— To Dr. Carlyle, Milan.^ Craigenputtock, 1st October 1833. My dear Brother — All your Letters came punctually to hand ; the last one from Calais on the Sunday, as you hoped ; greatly to our solacement, and to our Mother's, to whom this like the others was without delay transmitted. ' Part of this letter is in Froude's Life, ii. 369-371. 1 83 3 ; TO DR. CARLYLE 373 ... I reckoned favourably of your company, from the little glimpses you gave us into it : there is, to all appearance, goodness enough in it to ensure moderate peace, and let. the diverse elements there brought together work with moderate harmony. Discords too will come, discords are nowhere wanting and can be no- where wanting in this Earth ; but these, as you know, are properly but " unregulated concords," and I think will prove no deeper or greater than are essential for the music. You are all kindly people, trustful and deserving trust'; of few travelling or resting Parties can so much be said. As for you, continue to remember always that even in regulating those same "unregulated concords" does, in all situations, the wise man's task and happiness lie. With regard to Craigenputtock and ourselves there has nothing of the smallest moment happened since you heard last : no news either here or at Scotsbrig ; which means at least no bad news. We have had visitors enough ; too many sometimes. On that Wednesday night before you left London, William Graham ^ made his appearance ; the white horse glimmered on me through the trees as I stood pruning among them, and next moment the honest man and I were exchanging our somewhat boisterous salutations. He staid till Friday, amid rather bad weather, and rather wearisome conversa- tioh (for he has become altogether rustic in his 1 " Who might in his way be called a friend, , . . so long as his life lasted." — See Reminiscences, ii. 78-84. 374 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1833 ideas), yet with much honest feeling on all sides ; and then on Friday, he and I rode over together to Templand, and spent the night (tolerably enough) there ; and parted next day at Auldgarth. . . . Some days after this Jane went off with her Mother and Helen ^ to Moffat, leaving me here in per- haps the most perfect seclusion any European man was suffering or enjoying. I made a point not to be idle ; and spent those ten days better than I have done many : was glad enough nevertheless to seek my little companion home again from Templand ; who for her share seemed no less glad to get back to me. Moffat was " detestable " enough : she had found the Andersons there, however, and could report handsomely of them. . . . The next visitor we got was poor Glen's Brother Archy ; one night late, his rap sounded strange through the house ; he had come to Dunscore by the Glasgow Coach. A most amiable, sensible creature we found him, one of the best youths I have seen for long. What a blessing, in the mournful state of his household, now all resting on his shoulders alone. We talked greatly about his poor Brother ; strove to sift out his true posi- tion in all respects ; in conclusion we canie upon this project : to have Glen boarded and lodged with Peter Austin . . . ; we shall then have the poor fellow close by, can endeavour to put him on some employment and amuse- ment, and try if any influence of ours can assist ^ Her cousin, from Liverpool. 1833 TO DR. CARLYLE 375 him. . . . If he come here I will set him to read Homer with me, or something of that kind, and see him as often as I can.^ Alas, what wreck of young hopes there is in this Earth ! Archy Glen was not gone, with his sad errand when, with a whole bevy of biped and quadruped attendants, arrived William Gray and Wife. A couple not very unlike the Badamses. . . . If you ask now, What in suffering and wit- nessing all these little matters I have performed and accomplished for myself ? the answer might look rather meagre. I have not yet put pen to paper. The new chapter of my History as yet lies ail-too confused ; I look round on innumer- able fluctuating masses ; can begin to build no edifice from them. However, my mind is not empty, which is the most intolerable state. I think occasionally with energy ; I read a good deal ; I wait, not without hope. What other can I do ? Looking back over the last seven years, I wonder at myself; looking forward, were there not a fund of tragical Indifference in me, I could lose head. The economical outlook is so complex, the spiritual no less. Alas, the 1 -" Glen and I are nearly through the second Book [of Homer]. Nothing I have read for long years so interests and nourishes me : I am quite surprised at the interest I take in it. All the Antiquity I have ever known becomes alive in my head : there is a whole Gallery of Apelleses and Phidiases that I not only look upon but make. Never before had I any so distinct glimpse of antique Art ; those Pompeii Engravings of yours, and all of the sort I have seen, first get their signi- ficance." — Letter to Dr. Carlyle, 25th February 1834. 376 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1833 thing I want to do is precisely the thing I can- not do. My mind would so fain deliver itself adequately of that " Divine Idea of the World " ; and only in quite /^adequate approximations is such deliverance possible. I want to write what Teufelsdrockh calls the story of the Time-Hat ; to show forth to the men of these days that they also live in the Age of Miracle ! We shall see. Meanwhile, one of the subjects that engages me most is the French Revolution, which indeed for us is still the subject of subjects. My chief errand to Paris were freer inquiry into this : one day, if this mood continue, I may have something of my own to say on it. But to stick nearer home : I have as good as engaged with myself not to go even to Scotsbrig till I have written something. With which view partly, on Saturday last, I determined on two things I could write about (there are twenty others, if one had any vehicle) : the first a History of the Diam,ond Necklace ; the next an Essay on the St. Simonians. I even wrote off to Cochrane, as diplomatically as I could, to ask whether they would suit him. Be his answer what it may, I think I shall fasten upon that Necklace business (to prove myself in the Nar- rative style), and commence it (sending for Books from Edinburgh) in some few days. At this then you can figure me as occupied. For the rest, I have Books enough : your great Parcel came about a fortnight ago ; some of the Scotsbrig volumes a little crushed on the back ; otherwise uninjured : I sent these latter 1 833 TO DR. CARLYLE 377 forward to their place ; and have already read what Mill sent for me. Finally, yesterday, no further gone, I drove over to Barjarg^ (in the middle of thick small rain) to get the Keys' of the Barjarg Library ; which accordingly, after negotiation enough, I found most handsomely left for me by the Hunters ; so that I could seize the Catalogue and some half-dozen volumes and hasten off with them, to return at discretion ! It is really a very great favour ; there are vari- ous important works there ; reading which I am far better than at any University. For the first time in my life I have free access to some kind of Book-collection ; I a Book-man. One way and other, we look forward to a cheerfullish kind of winter here. . . . Your sister-in-law seems to me and to herself very considerably improved since you first prescribed for her ; Moffat did her con- siderable mischief; nevertheless she is getting into heart again, into good looks, and anticipates the winter with more spirit than usual. She gives me a little tune or two many a night ; and so we sit as still as we can. . . . Mill tells us in person that he is going to Paris and cannot see us this year. ... I set him on investigating Paris for us ; will prob- ably write him again, for books to be bought, before he go. I find Mill one of the piurest, worthiest men of this country ; but, as you say, 1 About eight miles from Craigenputtock, where was, and still is, a fine library which the Owner, Mr. Hunter Arundell, had kindly placed (in September 1833) at Carlyle's service. 378 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1833 much too exclusively logical. I think he will mend : but his character is naturally not large, rather high and solid. ... I will try for Fea's Winckelmann this week at Edinburgh ; yet with no great hope of getting it : the only representative I found of the work last winter was a poor French one with few plates or perhaps none. For you it is naturally the most appropriate study of all ; there where you sit in the very scene of it. Study to profit by your place whatever be the produce of it, all places (even Craigenputtock) produce something. I wish I might get Fea, for then I should read it with you : I almost need company to carry me through it. In my own heterodox heart there is yearly grow- ing up the strangest crabbed one-sided per- suasion, that all Art is but a reminiscence now, that for us in these days Prophecy (well understood) not Poetry is the thing wanted ; how can we sing and paint when we do not yet believe and see? There is some considerable truth in this ; how much I have not yet fixed. Now what under such point of view is all existing Art and study of Art ? What was the great Goethe himself ? The greatest of contemporary men ; who however is not to have any follower, and should not have any. In the Conversations Lexikon I find sundry curious things ; but sadly huddled together, in the way carriers pack, to take up least room : there is a notice about me, almost every word of which is more or less wrong. . . . 1 834 TO DR. CARLYLE 379 I asked Jane whether she had anything to say : she " would read the Letter and then see." I leave the margins ; and will not yet (till bed- time) take final farewell. — Ever yours, T. C. When you write tell us the biographic doings of your travelling party ; dramatically, especially, lyrically. Little touches in all these kinds will bring us far nearer you than all " general views " could. Explain all with copiousness, frankness. Above all be autobiographic as you see I^am. Jane says there is nothing that can be added to this so minute Letter ; nothing but her sisterly love ! . . . CIX.— To Dr. Carlyle, Rome.i Craigenputtock, list January 1834. My dear Brother — It is exactly four weeks since I wrote to you ; and three since I received your last Letter : perhaps it had been more in the order of time to wait till next Tuesday ;^ but as I may be busier then, and had rather be too soon than too late, I set about it now while nothing hinders me. As I con- jecture, there are few occurrences in your Roman month that bring more pleasure than news from home : let me be careful then to furnish you as regularly as I can. On Wednesday gone a fortnight (two weeks ^ Part of this letter is in Froude's Life^ ii. 391, 408. ^ i.e. In time for Wednesday, the marlcet day at Dumfries, when there were opportunities of sending and receiving letters. 38o LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1834 since, all but a day) I drove down to Dumfries, by appointment, to fetch up our Mother. . . . Jamie's marriage is still understood to be fixed upon. . . . He presses my Mother to retain the two upper rooms at Scotsbrig, and live if not with him, yet under the same roof with him. An arrangement which none of us approves of, except perhaps as a bad best. A month or two must now decide. Our Mother says, she knows who will provide her a home while she shall need one ; and so remains quite quiet and patient. I spoke of building her a house here ; and she was gratified at the offer : but my own uncertainty of continuance, the foreign neigh- bourhood, and its loneliness and dulness, render this a hazardous speculation. We shall struggle to do the best possible. . . . Glen is just gone to Peter Austin's since I began this paragraph ; Jane accompanying him. We were to have both gone down with him last night, and (with Tea) warmed the house for him : but it was a deluge of rain, and none of us stirred out. Archy Glen has sent down a carpet and bed-mattress, with various etceteras ; and now it is really quite a respectable little apartment ; where the poor fellow may wait what Providence has decided for him. We can yet form no fixed prophecy about him ; our experience of such things is so limited. He has two states : one a most quiet, almost lan- guid state, like a kind of collapse ; with an ap- pearance of consciousness that delusion is in him, an apprehension to commit himself by 1 834 • TO DR. CARLYLE 381 Speaking ; his answers are perfectly sane, even judicious and intelligent; but he originates nothing, or next to nothing ; sits silent or reads in an inattentive wandering manner. His second state is one of much more energy, when his crotchets get the force of beliefs in him ; and he will utter, and even maintain them, though with a singular tolerance of contradiction, and with arguments of such a sort for feebleness as you never heard man utter. Mostly however, with me, even in these states, he draws back again ; says he cannot discuss such things at, present till he " get sentience." These varieties I have found depend altogether almost on the state of the digestive organs. It is here that you could be of the best service ; but I with my utmost care can do too little. . . . But now, my dear Brother, I have a very mournful piece of news for you ; though hardly an unexpected one. On Saturday came a Letter from Tom Holcroft ; wherein quite in- cidently, as if speaking of a thing known, he mentions that poor Badams died in September ! How this affected and affects me you may figure. A deep Tragedy, transacted before one's eyes, you might say in one's very house- hold circle ; for Badams was among the men I loved most in the world. Poor fellow ! With such endowments too, with such worth ; but the spirit of the world, its. distractions and its persecutions were too hard for him. ... It is all over now. I have written to Holcroft to tell me at least where he lies buried ; whether 382 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1834 his Father and Mother still live. Jane speaks of trying if a Letter will find ■ Bessy Barnet ■* (whom we love for his sake and her own), and whether, if she stand desolate and destitute, she could not in some way be attached to us. . . . Environed as I have been ever since you last heard of me, I could naturally do no work, only wait for a better time. The house within this half hour is clear for the first time these five weeks. . . . Jame,s Fraser writes me that Teufelsdrockh meets with the most unqualified disapproval ; which is all extremely proper. His payment arrives, which is still more proper. On the whole, dear Jack, it is a contending world, and he that is born into it must fight for his place or lose it. If we are under the right flag, let the world do its worst, and heartily welcome ! I will now go and walk till Dinner, the weather is not fair, is not absolutely wet. — God bless thee, dear Brother! Auf ewig. T. Carlyle. ... I did drink your health, though not on New Year's Day (for that was the day I went for my Mother, and so got no dinner) ; but next day here, mindful of my duty. Have you begun to any study of Artistics ? Or do you find it a pursuit too unproductive for you .'' My own impression is that the Cant in it is great ; but also that there ^ See Reminiscences, ii. 146. 1 834 TO MRS. AITKEN 383 is a Reality in it, though of smaller magni- tude.^ ... Jane sends this message, when I ask if she has aught to say : " My kindest affection to him ; that I have a headache, and that every- thing is said." — What trust can you put in woman 1 She engaged to write, and see ! — — I go to Glen's to-night yet and smoke a pipe with him. He was very wae. — Adieu ! I do end here. ex. — To Mrs. AiTKEN,^ Dumfries. Craigenputtock, i%th February 1834. My dear Jean — I will with great pleasure lend you • any Book I have ; on one condition, which I doubt not you would prescribe to your- selves, that they be kept free from dirt and damage. Nothing is more gratifying than to afford so useful an accommodation so easily, to any one that will employ it ; much more to a Brother and a Sister. On the_ other hand few things vex. a methodical character more than thumb-marks when the volume returns : spot of grease, above all, seems to deserve death with- out benefit of clergy ! I have sent you to-day : Holcroft's Memoirs^ 3 vols. ; Mackintosh's England, i vol. ; Mar- maduke Maxwell, i vol. ; Young (for Sundays too), I vol. ; Two Magazines : of the latter ^ Cf. remarks on the modern gospel of Art, in the Life of Sterling, p. 213. 2 His sister Jean, married, in November 1833, to Mr. James Aitken of Dumfries. 384 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1834 kind there are whole barrowfuls here ; but it may be questioned whether they will profit you much. — When you want more, let me know. On the whole I am very glad that you and James take to reading in leisure hours : leisure, of which every mortal has some, cannot in any other way that I know of be so profitably employed. If one do not read, wherefore can he read ? We are going on here in the common way ; nothing new except the favourable change of the weather. I have many Books about me, many Thoughts in me : if not happy, may hope to grow happier} If Alick come to-morrow, you can give him that Letterkin ; if not, you can commit it to the Lockerbie Carrier (whose name I forget), or to any other conveyance you think better. Mary tells me our Mother is well ; but there seems to be no kind of settlement made yet, or capable of being made, which I regret, but do not yet see means of mending. I know not exactly when I shall be down ; but probably it will not be very long. — Com- mend me to James. — I am, ever your Brother, T. Carlyle. CXI.^ — To Mrs. AlTKEN, Dumfries. Craigenputtock, 25/)% February 1834. ... I have a piece of news that will surprise you, and not so agreeably. Nay perhaps you 1 Jeffrey's occasional form of salutation was, "Are you happy.?"— M. C. i834 TO DR. CARLYLE 38S have it already (if M'Diarmid' have put in the Advertisement, that our House is to let), and are already surprised at it. We are speaking quite seriously and practically about setting off for London at Whitsunday ! I did not mention it to Alick last Wednesday ; because it was not till last Thursday that we started it ourselves. As yet none knows of it but our two selves, — and M'Diarmid, who has if not inserted, got orders to insert the Advertisement. We have long had it in the wind ; we are quite buried alive here, and must try to rise of ourselves. Tell nobody of it (at least not Rob ^) unless the News- paper have already made it public. — Unless there come something in the Letter way to- morrow I think I must go down about Friday or Saturday and tell our Mother. You shall see me by the road, and hear all about it. God bless you, dear Sister! Commend me to the Goodman. — Ever yours, T. C. CXII. — To Dr. Carlyle, Rome. Craigenputtock, 7.Tth March 1834. My dear Brother — There is no bigger sheet in the house, except monstrosities of scrolling-sheets, and to procure another, as you know, will detain us some two weeks. My hand shall be cabin'd, crib'd, confin'd to the very uttermost : you shall have my news, and my blessing with them, still. We had a kind of 1 See ante, p. 146 n. 2 Probably the man who brought the letter. 2 C 386 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1834 hope of hearing from you yesterday, which was Wednesday ; but it yielded nothing ; so, as we are for Thornhill to-morrow, I will not wait another week. My last despatch to you was dated some four, or more likely five weeks ago ;. either of which is far enough back. . . . Time passes here in so noiseless, unproductive a way, one has no natural feeling of its course ; each day being the express image of last (and most of them, like Macadam's Dutch crockery-image, " clean toom "^), you are apt to lump large masses of them together, and wonder how they went. — For me, if you received my last Letter, there will be nothing of great moment to add to it : where- fore, as I have been at Scotsbrig since, I will begin with that. It was yesterday gone three weeks that I yoked my clutch again, after wait- ing out all the winter deluges, and looked abroad again into the living world, not without a kind of gladness and almost surprise to find that there still was a living world. At Dumfries whole bags of letters lay waiting me : about our London Expedition from Mrs. Austin and Mill, about the finer sensibilities of the heart from Mrs. Montagu ; an inarticulate shriek from poor Mrs. Badams, as late announcement of her loss, long rambling speculations on the same sad subject from Tom Holcroft, whereby nothing I think was learned except that the mortal body of our poor Friend lay in Paddington Church- yard, and that while alive he had been wont to step over from Bartlett's Buildings and drink in 1 Altogether empty. 1 834 TO DR. CARLYLE 387 Fearon's shop some large measure of brandy every day : alas, the whole of it is a Tragedy all too heart-oppressing ; such as has often been, such as we also were appointed to witness ! Hastily glancing over these Documents, and hastily despatching them home, I dined on " three light-boiled eggs with salt" (a favourite travelling dinner of mine) at Jean's, whom I found well and doing well ; and again taking the road was at Alick's about sunset. He was mending a stone-dyke near yon old ruinous mill of his, and the " Brig of Danger" ; he joy- fully answered my hail, led me over, and up the brae, to a clean house, two clean rosy children, and a blazing coal fire. I learned from him the particulars of an occurrence I had been apprised of quite un- expectedly at Dumfries by a funeral-letter : the death of our poor old Aunt Fanny.^ She had been buried the day before. The end of her Life was like the course of it ; resolute, indomitable : and as soft almost as the fall- ing asleep of a tired labourer, his day's work being done. She was out (among the cows, overseeing something done to them), though weak as weak could be, the very day before : that night (or rather next morning) about two o'clock, she bade Will, who was watching with her, go to bed and leave her, for he was nothing but disturbing her ; Will obeyed, but rose again about four, and went to look : his Mother had been up, had lighted her pipe, had smoked it, and ^ His father's eldest sister. — See. Reminiscences, i. 32. 388 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1834 laid it, with the candle first carefully extinguished, on the back-bar of the bed ; and fallen asleep — to awake no more ! She was the last of a race : one generation we have seen pass away ; we ourselves are the next, also rapidly passing. . . . But to collect my scattered threads and go on knitting : you are to fancy that Alick has rolled me down, like Jehu, with lamps burning, to the astonishment of the country, and the joyful sur- prise of Scotsbrig, part of which was even to bed. Our Mother came rushing out of Mary's : one thinks of all these things with joy yet with sadness. Of all things there are only so many times ; one time is the last. Various plans were agitated for our Mother's Whitsunday settlement, with much vague specu- lation, out of which it was not easy to frame any practical result. All things that could be thought of offered objections : it was only a choice of the bad best. Our Mother herself was quiet, yet sad as was natural, and recoiled from the prospect of change, which nevertheless by the adventurousness of the younger ones had become inevitable. ... It was judged better, since both Jamie and she so objected to a change, that she for this year should continue under the Scotsbrig roof, occupying the two upstairs rooms as her own house, with Jenny, who, however, meant to pass most of the summer in Dumfries, improving herself in sewing and the like. . . . Poor Mother ! I was very sad to see all the old scaffolding of her life falling asunder about her ; and I doubt not, all of us very heartily vowed 1 834 TO DR. CARLYLE 389 that nothing we could do should be wanting to repair what she loses. . . . Our departure for London naturally grieved her much, but she bears up as well as possible ; admits willingly that we are doing no good here, and must go. I drove her up to Catlinns that morning I re- turned ; and left her there ; Alick escorting me ' with his " black mare " through Lochmaben, when again the " must " interfered, and we went thoughtfully each his way. This then is the Scotsbrig business, which mainly concerned us at present. With our Craigenputtock doings I must be much briefer. The house has been twice advertised to let ; but no tenant offers, or indeed is rightly ex- pected : Mrs. Austin writes in the most cheer- ful way about undertaking to get us a house. . . . We have further determined now not to "burn our ships," in the way of sale by auction which would involve us in much trouble with uncertain issue, but to use them in the way at worst "of firewood," laid up here, or sold as chance opportunities may occur.^ The disposal of the House and etceteras lies still dubious ; but perhaps something may be made of it. Let me mention too, that we heard last night, for the second time, from Bessy Barnet : she is with the old Badamses at Warwick ; will go and serve us anywhere under the heavenly sun; "wages are the last of her thoughts," kindness and to be with those she likes are 1 The kitchen table of the Carlyles still stands in its place at Craigenputtock. — M. C. 390 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1834 the whole matter. Poor Bessy ! So you see we are provided with a servant, on whose fidelity at least we can rely. As to London generally, my thoughts are of the dimmest, earnest, huge character. To go thither seems inevitable," palpably necessary ; yet, contrasted with these six years of rockbound seclusion, seems almost like a rising from the grave.* Like an issuing from the Bastille at least : and then the question is. Whether we shall not, like that old man, request with tears to be taken back ! On the whole, I hope ; and my little Dame (whom I often call 'Spairkin, Despairkin) declares naively that "she is not a coward for all that she is desperate." For- ward then and try ! As to " fame " and all that, I can honestly say I regard it not: my wish and hope is that I may live, not dis- honestly, nor in vain ; and it is my confidence too. Soon, soon does a high Eternity swallow up all the littleness of Time, were it joyful, were it painful. Curiously enough, the Rhetoric Chair at Edinburgh, just about this time, has fallen vacant : but I make no whisper of pre- tention to it ; Jeffrey as good as assured me he could do nothing for me, beforehand, and we hear and shall likely hear nothing further from him. They will give it to Thomas Campbell, or let it lie vacant : at bottom, I believe this better for me. And so I go on reading and studying here, and for exercise digging up and trimming the garden flower-borders, though I shall not see them blow. Glen, whom, in spite of all i834 TO MR. HENRY INGLIS 39i contradictory appearances, I consider as im- proving, looks at Homer nightly with me ; we are nearly through the Fourth Book, and my delight is still great. Glen is very perfunctory in his scholarship, vague and inaccurate here as in all things ; knows much Greek, but knows it very ill. I have got Heyne's Homer now and Voss's Translation, etc., and really make some- thing of the business, or try to do it. Voss's is the best translation I ever in my life looked into : it is poetical even, yet closer than Clarke's school one. I have also a heap of Annual Registers (very interesting) from Liverpool, and abundance of Books from Barjarg. — O this dirty little sheet ! It has quite lamed my fingers, writing so small ; and lamed my thought too : besides I have been interrupted by a woodman coming to clear and prune the woods. Next time better ! God bless you, dear Brother ! Farewell, and love me, and come safe back to me ! T. Carlyle. CXIII. — To Mr. Henry Inglis, Edinburgh. Craigenputtock, lith April 1834. My dear Sir — -Your Books return to you to-day, which have lain here finished these two weeks, waiting for an opportunity that seemed safe. I hope you will receive them uninjured ; you certainly receive them with many just thanks, for they were most kindly sent, as many others have been, and afforded me great 392 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1834 entertainment, as well as a fair modicum of profit too. Heyne -is a huge quarry ; in which, however, though under chaotic quarry-Hke ar- rangement, all manner of needful materials lie : I have dug hither and thither through him, and found several things. BlackweW^ one may call a flare of trumpet-music, in the bravura style too common in his time and since ; sweet enough, but meaningless, or nearly so. The best of all, to his bulk, is Payne Knight,^ a sound, methodical, compact man, worthy of all acceptation. Let me add only of the brave Voss, that if you at any time want a Trans- lation of Homer, you will find Voss's not only the best of that old Singer, but perhaps the best ever executed of any Singer, under such circumstances ; a really effectual work, which one rejoices to look into, true, genuine to the heart in every line. And so here ends for the present my intercourse with Homer: I have read several Books of his Rhapsody as with spectacles, and diligently surveyed all the rest ; and leave it with increased knowledge, and love it better than any other Book, I think, except the Bible alone. It is not the richest intrinsi- cally perhaps, but the richest-oldest, and stands in such an environment as no other. Here, too, I believe, my kind Friend, ends your Book-dealings with Craigenputtock, for 1 Dr. Thomas Blackwell's Enquiry into the Life and Writings of Homer, published in 1735, '^ now seldom read. Bentley said, he forgot it before he finished reading it. 2 Prolegomena in Hotnerum, 1820. 1834 TO MR. HENRY INGLIS 393 all things have an end ! Never more, it is like, will you send me Books hither ; this scene of your activity terminates now, and truly, in retiring, you have a right to say Plaudite, or rather Plaude, for it is I that am interested in it, which, thinking of all your attentiveness, I can well assure you that I heartily do. Pro- bably the Newspaper I sent last might indicate to you that we were bound for London. It is even so : we go there at Whitsunday ; to what fates the Upper Powers have provided us, for hitherto it is as dark and vague as you could fancy. One must take the flood, and swim in it with a stout heart and an open eye. The whole aspect of Existence has long ceased to give me any transcendent terror ; I know it of old to be hoUowness and foam and theatrical sham, yet with an Eternity lying beyond it, looking through it, which is true. Considering all this, what manner of men ought ye to be, — whether your forks be of silver, or ye have no forks at all ? The life of an Author, which is now mine without remedy, is externally, and too often internally, among the most difficult and painfullest given to man ; nevertheless, to this also, with all its heights and depths, one must address himself : pray for me only. That I do not become a Scoundrel ; — in the highest garret, I have no other prayer. Our address, I imagine, will be 4 Holland Street, Kensington ; but till after to-morrow this is not quite certain : however, I will take care to send you some token : some special 394 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1834 written notice, if we are not to anchor there. A Dumfries Newspaper or some such thing may serve to affirm, if that is all that is wanted.; for I am like to be very much hurried. We count too that we shall see you from time to time ; oftener there than we should do here. I would not have you forget me : when I look up towards Edinburgh now, there is almost nothing else that it gives me much pain to part from. My much-respected Motherland has given me much, much of priceless value, but of men that I love, no great overplus. And now, my Friend, quitting your end of the Island, my last and continued advice is. Stand by the Truth, though the Arch-Devil hindered you ! A man has no other footing in this world, but what is mere pasteboard, which vanishing in reek, he sinks to endless depths. Another precept, which perhaps I myself need more than you, is, Not to hate, only to pity and avoid those that follow Lies. Patience ! Patience ! whosoever is not against us is for us. The noisiest of Gigmen, is not his Gig-spring already breaking ? Alas ! it inevitably breaks ; and he — whither goes he ? Out of thy way at anyrate. And so, Jog on, jog on the footpath way. And merrily hent the stile-a ; A merry heart goes all the day, Your sad one tires in a mile-a. You see in what a state my Pen is ; other- wise I had much more of this sort to dilate on. Better as it is ! 1 834 TO HIS WIFE 395 Did I tell you that your friend Teufelsdrockh is publishing his lucubrations in a London Magazine ? The Public seems to receive him with fixed > Little wonder ! I hope to forward you a complete copy, so soon as the business is done ; perhaps some two months hence. . . . With friendliest wishes and hopes, I bid you farewell. May God bless you always ! T. Carlyle. CXIV. — To his Wife, Craigenputtock. 4 Ampton Street, Gray's Inn Road, London, lyih May 1834. Dearest Heart — Here am I once more seated on the sofa, by this old rickety table, where you have so often sat looking over on me : I have had my frank since yesterday, with Sister Jean's address on it, who will not let the sheet loiter in Dumfries ; I give you the top of the morning, and will write down my whole confused experiences for you with as little confusion as I yet can. What a time it seems since we were parted, though by the calendar it counts only some nine days ! Oh, my Love, if I were to write all the loving things I have thought of thee, whole quires would not hold it. Blessed be the Heavens, I have thee to wife ; my own, while existence is granted us ; we are not yet parted forever, but only, by God's grace, for some few days longer. As I have quantities of the most perplexed 1 Word illegible. 396 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1834 matters to write of, and all things yet stand at sixes and sevens with me, I will take the old- established order of time, and endeavour to sketch you the whole of it that seems sketchable. You remember the Friday, what a bright day it was. . . . Fancy that I spent the day, as one might in a Solway steamboat of but moderate arrangements (for having declined Dinner at two o'clock, there was nothing after- wards to be had but the miserablest Tea, at seven : this I mention for your own guidance) ; that as the Night sank, the gleam of Liverpool arose far over the waters, and the red Light of " The Rock," and other Lights floating and fixed, amid which steering with address, yet not without bellowings and swearings, we came rushing up to the Clarence Dock about two in the morning, and were informed we could not enter, but might land over planks. . . . But figure me now mounted at noontide of Monday, on your old Umpire Coach (for it has changed its hour), and bowling off towards London at one stretch. Figure us rushing down the steep street of Lichfield, and along my old familiar ways in Warwickshire about midnight ; and the dirtiest little chill drizzle beginning, from which on the Coach-box with the breeze on the right cheek I had no means of guarding myself; though your Uncle, good man, had a bran-new umbrella waiting for me at the Liverpool starting-place, having failed to get back my own from Porcus M'Minn, who had staggered off with it the night before. i834 TO HIS WIFE 397 Alas, the drizzle continued, and became a rain, and I sat nodding there, and starting awake again at the threshold of most comfortless sleep, till about eight in the morning three cups of scalding coffee brought some motion back into my fingers. Particulars to be often recapitu- lated when we sit by the fire together ! Not till two o'clock did I see the huge monstrosity of a London, through the Arch at Holloway, again amid rain, and enter it with a kind of defiance. In few minutes, from "the Angel of Islington," I was here, and the glad Mrs. Page recognising me, and the whole house welcoming me, safe so far from my perils. Our old rooms had been vacant for about a week. . . . All hands here express the truest joy at hope of seeing you again. ... I feel comparatively at home ; and so, in respect of lodgings am as fortunate as you could wish. That same Tuesday evening I strode off to Bayswater, and was welcomed^ (what think you of that ?) with a most graceful little kiss. Alas ! in the course of five minutes' speech, I learned that my whole hurry had been useless, that I might have staid with you perfectly as well ; that our whole Scotch notion of London . houseletting was erroneous from top to bottom. Heard poor man, heard poor wife ever any- thing so provoking ? Whitsunday is no day at all in London :^ they have four term-days in the year. . . . But now in Kensington Gardens (no delved garden,- but the beautifullest im- 1 By Mrs. Austin. ^ For the renting of houses. 398 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1834 mensity of a Park, with water-pieces and grass- pieces, and sky-high clumps of frondent beeches, where you shall often walk), there starts from a side-seat a black figure, and clutches my hand in both his: it is poor Edward Irving P O what a feeling ! The poor friend looks like death rather than life ; pale and yet flushed, a flaccid, boiled appearance ; and one short peal of his old Annandale laugh went through me with the wofullest tone. . . . [Wednesday was spent in house-hunting without result.] Next morning, or Thursday, ... I soon got out with Hunt in wide quest of houses. Chelsea lies low close by the side of the river ; has an ancient, here and there dilapidated look ; the houses apparently a tenth cheaper ; some market articles, especially coals, said likewise to be cheaper. I liked it little. . . . Hunt gave me dinner, a pipe even and glass of ale; was the blithest, helpfullest, most loquacious of men ; yet his talk only fatigued me mostly ; there was much, much of it ; full of airiness indeed, yet with little but scepticising quibbles, crotchets, fancies, and even Cockney wit, which I was all too earnest to relish. He sent his kind regards to Craigenputtock, and left me on my way to Edwardes Square. . . . Next morning, Friday, I set out westward, and took Duller by the way [house-hunting again, again without success]. . . . Mill did not come till nine o'clock, and then with a strange gaunt- 1 See Reminiscences, ii. 212, for a fuller account of this accidental meeting. 1 834 TO HIS MOTHER 399 looking "disciple," and so all three sat talking till near one o'clock. You have thus, dear Wife, my whole history since we parted. Was ever anything more confused ? . . . Thus, dear Goodykin, have I filled you two of the longest sheets you ever read. Dinner is just here, and I dare not begin another. O my wee Wifiekin, how art thou, in these tumults ? Alick promised me that he would as far as man could take the burden off you, screen from all toils, of which in spite of him enough would reach you. Take care, take every care. Tell Alick that if he send thee well to me, I will never forget him, — as indeed I never will any way. And now do you ever think of me ? Not you, you little wretch ! But oh me, I am too serious for jesting ; yet not sad. I feel very fearless in this business ; " though des- perate not cowardly." Be of good cheer ; it is for my Dearest's good too. And so God bless and keep thee ! T. Carlyle. CXV. — To his Mother, Scotsbrig. 4 Ampton Street, Gray's Inn Road, London, i Tlh May {Saturday) [i 834]. My dear Mother — I am arrived safely here, and living in my old quarters. I got in on Tuesday, having suffered no damage ; had good weather all the way, but the last twelve hours, when it rained, but could not wet me. I have great cause of thankfulness : friends are 400 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1834 all kind to me ; I seem to meet nothing but friends. . . . Many times, my dear Mother, has your image come over me ; but I let it not be with sadness. Nay, what will you think if I often hummed " Fairest Phillis " ^ on the coach-roof, and actually, when I first saw the great, smoky, immeasurable London, sung to myself with a kind of real defiance, and the right tune, " There's seven foresters in yon forest, and them I want to see ! " You shall have plenty of news from me were we settled, a frank every two or at furthest every three weeks ; the newspaper weekly : and remember I am very punctual. Finally, my dear Mother, commit me in your prayers to God, by whose will I desire to live and to die. With whom are we not all present ? My health is good, rather better even. — You must learn to write ; you must try to write, let me rather say, and you can already do it. — There is no fair chance here for reading : but I will write plainer the next time. . . . Send me a Newspaper directed hither. May 1 Carlyle would sometimes, in his late years, repeat this old song, the first and last verses of which are : — ' ' Haste, haste, fairest Phillis, To the greeenwood let's away, To pull the pale primrose : 'Tis the first of the May. ' ' Then all you pretty, fair maids, To the greenwood do not go. Till the Priest joins yoiir hands, Let your answer be No." — M. C. i834 TO DR. CARLYLE \o\ God's blessing be with you, my dear Mother, and with you all ! — Ever your affectionate, T. Carlyle. You shall very soon hear more of me. CXVI.— To Dr. Carlyle, Naples. 4 Ampton Street, Gray's^ Inn Road, London, \Zth May 1834. My dear Brother — Doubtless you are thinking long to hear from me, as I have done these two weeks to write to you. I pitied but could not help you. I hope you yourself have Heiterkeit, and do not torment your mind with vain fears on our account. Be of good cheer : all is well with us. Here also, at length, is another broad and long sheet of that " foreign Post " of theirs, with pen and ink, and the length of a whole still Sunday before me : to have a table that would stand on its feet were another completion of comfort ; which, however, for the present, I must dispense with. My brave true-hearted Jack shall hear to all lengths how it goes with us. Your last Letter but one arrived only a day after my last was despatched. The last was found lying at Dumfries now nearly a fortnight ago ; and in the very best time ; for our dear Mother was beginning, to call exceedingly often at the Post-office, and no reasoning could have saved her from considerable anxiety, had it lasted long. She had been at Craigenputtock, for a fortnight, on her ''last visit" there. I took her down on the Friday as far as Alick's, 2 D 402 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE i834 who would not let us go farther ; then next day forward to Annan to show her Mary, who had actually removed thither into a temporary house a week before ; from which, the same evening, up to Scotsbrig. Passing through Ecclefechan we "called,"^ as usual; but poor Postie had nothing for us. However, on the Monday fol- lowing, as I returned through Dumfries, there lay, in very deed, the long, most kind, most brotherly letter ; which I could read to Jean on the spot, and send our Mother hint of by a Newspaper, with hope of seeing itself in the course of that week. Jean went on with me to Puttock, and staid there talking and sewing shirts, till the Thursday. when I was to bring her so far down on my road — to London. For you must know, our Holland Street, and all other Austinian house-speculations had, after the most provoking vicissitudes of hope and even of assurance, come suddenly to nought ; whereby, as Whitsunday was so near, it became for us self-evident that I must off in person to do the work, lest it altogether miswent for year and day. Poor Jane was to be left with the Furni- ture herself; Alick undertook to come for a week and take the burden off her, which I believe he is now at Craigenputtock struggling with his best effort to do. And so I, wetted with poor Mrs. Welsh's tears (whom Jane seemed anxious to see done with her visit, as she then nearly was), lumbered off in my Clatch, in rainy weather, to seek new habitations. 1 i.e. At the post-office for letters. 1 834 TO DR. CARLYLE 403 Alas, five minutes after arriving here, I found that my whole hurry had been superfluous ; that Whitsunday is no day at all in London,^ or this very Sunday ; and houses are to be had at any season, and most plentifully of all some two weeks hence ! However, intrinsically there is little ill done : I shall have a House ready, I hope, for the poor tired Wife, and as our Goods, having a quick path all marked out for them, will not linger, we shall all the sooner have it over. Let me first, meanwhile, wind up Scot- tish matters ; then tell you, as far as I can, what London has brought forth. With regard to our dear Mother, I bid you comfort yourself with the assurance, then, th^t she is really moderately well; better, 'I* '^an say, than you are likely tofancy her. . . . She adjusts herself with the old heroism to new circumstances ; agrees that I must come hither,- parts from me with the stillest face, more touching than if it had been all beteared. I said to Alick, as we drove up the Purdamstown brae ^ that morning that I thought if I had had all the Mothers I ever saw to choose from I would have chosen my own. She is to have Harry, and can ride very well on him ; will go down awhile to sea-bathing at Mary's ; up to Durrifries ; to Catlinns ; and spend the summer tolerably enough. For winter I left her the task of spinning me a plaid dressing-gown, with which if she get too soon done, she may spin another for you. She has Books ; above all, 1 See ante, p. 397. ^ close to Scotsbrig. 404 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1834 her Book : she trusts in God, and " shall not be put to shame." I am to write once in the three weeks ; you also are pressingly charged to keep writing ; your Letters to me I shall get forwarded in Franks. I told her, there would be railways too (which is a fact) which, in few years, would bring us to Liverpool in ten hours. If I once again saw you safe here, in September come a year, we would come home together, and once again provide her with some happy days. — To show you several things I will men- tion a fact : while at Craigenputtock, I made her train me to two song-tunes, and we often sang them together, and tried them often again in coming down to Annandale ; nay, one of them, I actually found myself humming with a strange cheerfully-pathetic feeling when I first came in sight (through that Arch on the road) of huge smoky Babylon : " For there's seven foresters in yon forest, and them / want to see, see, and them, etc. ! I wrote her a little Note yesterday, and told her this.^^ — As for Jamie, you can fancy him providing for a love-mar- riage, which is to take place shortly. He is no ill-conditioned fellow; very far from it; and with a great natural talent, had he given it any culture. We will heartily wish him joy, and hope well of him. — Jean seems also to be doing very well, to be happy in Dumfries, interested in it, and able to give a good account of what she sees there. I think she loves her husband, '^ A part of the preceding portion of this paragraph is in Froude's Life, ii. 416. 1 834 TO DR. CARLYLE 405 and will help him to be an honest man, which, with very good faculty in all ways, he is truly anxious to be. She wept at parting, when I had eaten my last Dumfries meal with them : I bade them ever remember that it was but a short, short time we had to be tumbled about here, and that all Eternity depended on our way of spending that. And so I left poor Jean ; guter Hoffnung {\}s\&y say) in the German sense ; and I with good hope of her in the universal sense. — My good Alick stood waiting for me at the end of Shillahill Bridge with his black mare, thinking my horse would be weak. It is one of those apparitions I shall never forget. He whirled me, like an arrow, direct down to Highlaw, Breconhill, Ecclefechan, and Scotsbrig, through old scenes unvisited for years : we were within cry of Mainhill (for the new road now goes by the horse-loch almost) ; it stood there still, and we had never more aught to do with it. Alick still votes for Annan, and I fancy will probably accomplish it : he has gained hitherto at Catlinns ; but has no assurance that in a wet year he will not greatly lose : the proprietors also will not afford him the palpably needfullest encouragement ; he will do well to cast it from him. — At Annan, I told you, Mary already was : her husband has had constantly some work from the very first day, and shapes fairly for doing well enough. He is a blithe man, strong, steady. . . . Poor Mary had her two children as clean as new shillings, and the whole little 4o6 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1834 housekin swept and cleared, and the neatest breakfast laid out for us all that morning I went off. It had been appointed so : I went in the " new steamboat from Annan " (which is also to carry our Furniture) ; Alick and Jamie, with Ben Nelson, etc., were down with me at the shore ; and before noon, at the Waterfoot I had waved my hat to my two Brothers, and gone on my way. — Of Jenny I think I told you all last time ; I got her Chambers's two volumes of Songs bound into one, for a most acceptable parting-gift, and so left my little "Prudence." Your Iliad and Odyssey I also got bound then, and have appropriated them for the present. — Alas, how my Paper" wanes ! I must merely huddle up the rest. . . . With respect to London, where we are now arrived,^ I must spare you many de- tails : understand in general that I walk myself daily into lameness and utter lassi- tude (taking all advantage of omnibii too) in search of houses, but still find none, or hardly any: see only that I shall find some. My present view is fixed on two points : one in Edwardes Square, a little quiet green place, far west in Kensington ; the second, which as yet I like distinctly better, a detached new-[brick] cottage in Gloucester Terrace, Brompton ; built on the very model of Craigenputtock, only wider, without adjoined kitchen (servant' s-room being kitchen), and lower in the upper story ; a 1 i.e. After having described Liverpool, etc. 1 834 , TO DR. CARLYLE 407 solid -looking, clean- yellow house, in the middle of a garden with an Omnibus road in front, and perhaps [half a] mile to Hyde Park : rent, I think, £4.0. That is my outlook to- morrow. Bayswater I like best of all, especially for the glorious Kensington Gardens ; Chelsea is cheapest of all, but I like it not, and also shall be better not too near the Hunts, who over- whelm me with kindness, but will never do good with me. In Kensington or Brompton you are to figure me then ; certainly almost, in some western suburb : Bessy Barnet is warned to be here in twelve days, when our Goods arrive ; Jane follows instantly, and so with good heart we begin the world. As you must write to me instantaneously, it will be better to direct to [James] Fraser, 215 Regent Street: but I ex- pect to hear of you before that also, by Scots- brig. Our mother took lessons in writing from me ; and really can write quite tolerably, though slowly. In point of employment here I have yet made no accurate calculations : Literature seems done, or nearly so ; all enterprises languish ; Tait has given up his Magazine (or joined it with a certain Johnstone's); Cochrane,^ who really proves no bad fellow, and received me very kindly, I suspect to be in lowest water for money, and not to occupy me mainly on that ground. Fraser s Magazine is here, and a lot of Books for you from Mrs. Badams : but the man ^ himself I have not seen. Nothing seems to thrive but Penny 1 See ante, p. 343 n. 2 Fraser. 4o8 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1834 Journals: ai"e we at the End, then? Mean- while be gratified to know that these things and twenty times as many cannot dispirit me. I feel in general that I have wit enough in my head to live ; and look upon many things with the cheerfijllest "still defiance" I have known for long. A scoundrel, by God Almighty's grace, no man shall ever see me : the' rest is leather and prunella. I find friends too, kind friends ; will survey my element, will understand it, then see whether I can swim there. Here is a professed Teacher, there are- innumerable Ignorants : doubtless there is a way of bringing them together. Rejoice also that whether by such walking or by the humour I am in, or by what, my health feels especially good since I arrived. Who knows but I shall one day be healthy I So Courage! Andar con Dios! . . . T. Carlyle. CXVII. — To his Wife, Liverpool. Ampton Street, sot/t May {Friday) 1834. God be thanked, my own Dearest, here is word from you again ! It is long- since I have been so happy as when I found your Letter yesterday, as I came into dinner. The last one, which I had longed and languished four days for, left me in the absurd predicament of neither accurately knowing your motions, nor even understanding how to address a Letter to you. I had prepared a Frank for my mother at i834 TO HIS WIFE . 4o9 Scotsbrig, as the only thing possible ; but now that is superfluous for your part of it : you have done as I hoped and calculated you would do if it lay In your power ; like a dear Child you are hastening to me ; in few days I shall hold you in this bosom, and now once more "it is all right." Could I have spoken I would have said, Do not hasten if your health is to suffer, much as, on all accounts, I long to see you. However, you have heeded none of these hindrances : at this hour I fancy you on the Solway Brine, with one sure hope in your heart, all too overclouded otherwise. God bless you for it ; and bring you safe to my heart! But O, my little Lassie, take care of yourself ; rest, if rest be possible, when you get to land. I see not how I can forgive myself if you suffer mischief by haste to obey me. But we will hope and pray, it may still not be so. . . . As to Craigenputtock, take my thanks for your cleverness, adroitness and despatch : I find all quite wonderfully well settled ; there is hardly one thing I think of which I would have voted otherwise. ... Is Chico^ actually with you ? Thou little fool ! Yet dear even in thy follies. . . . But the question is. When is my Goody com- ing? When! Warn me, my little Darling. If you go by Birmingham (which except for Bessy, quite easily managed otherwise, there is not the slightest need of your doing), your Uncle must choose you a good Coach thither ; from Bir- 1 The canary-bird. 4IO LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1834 mingham to London I believe they are all good. Would you not like to sleep ? or do you feel as if you could not sleep ? Decide thy own way, my pretty one. Only tell me pointedly which way you come, and at what hour : I would not miss you for a sovereign. You will jump out round my neck i* — For shame ! . . . O Dearest, Best, when wilt thou come ? — Jeffrey is gone two days ago : I saw him again, at Mrs. Austin's, where he was taking leave. His manner to me tremulous and shy; mine kinder and graver than ever. Peace be with him ! — By the bye it is reported here that his Majesty is gone mad ; and the "present excellent Ministry" in this alarming state. Ekeu ! Eheu ! — . . . Dearest, it is close on five ! Thousand thanks for your kind sentiment of staying at home. That is it, my little brave one. We will be true to Heaven and one another, and fear nothing. — Now when will it be that I hear ? Monday ? Tuesday ? God guide thee home to me, my Own ! I fear I have forgotten many things ; but the interruptions have been numer- ous ; my hurry greater than I looked for. — Ever thy own, heart and soul, T. Carlyle. My kindest regards to Uncle and Aunt and all in kind Maryland Street. Ask Helen to come and see us here : I did. — . . . 1 834 TO HIS MOTHER 4" CXVIII. — To his Mother, Scotsbrig. 5 Great Cheyne Row, Chelsea, London, Thursday, \%th June 1834. My dear Mother — I promised you that the first frank ,1 filled from our new House should be for you ; and here I am, in the middle of a most miscellaneous collection of operative men and women, accomplishing that promise. It is not only the first Letter I have written, . but the first time I have put pen to paper. However, I have for the present (while the Bell-hangers are absent) a room to myself ; I have my oXAfirm writing-table, firm as a rock; my old inkbottle and penholder ; and the quiet- est outlook, through an open window, into green fields and trees ; I have feven my old Highland bonnet on: so I will tell you the completest story I can, with moderate composure after all. Jane gave me, in a Letter from Liverpool, a sad tale of your parting at Annan, and how you stood waving your handkerchief to her, in front of a great crowd of people, to make amends for your tears, and keep up her heart. All that is past, and too sad to dwell on. Carlyle of Waterbeck^ was abundantly civil to the poor Traveller ; as • indeed all people had been and continued to be helpful and civil : so finally, on, I think, the Wednesday afternoon, as I returned to Fred- erick Street from Mrs. Austin's (where they had kept me to dinner), I was met by the chirling of a little Canary-bird (the same as 1 A relation of the Carlyles. — M. C. 412 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1834 I hear even now, from the under-story), and in the next room, safe in bed, and already well- rested, lay my little Wife, " actually " engaged in drinking tea! She was well, she assured me, and all was well. Let us be thankful ; and trust that the rest, too, will be well ! With our renewed house-huntings, and how- we dashed up and down for three or four days, in all manner of conveyances, where such were to be had cheap, and on our legs where not, — I need not detain you here. We saw various Houses ; but the Chelsea House (though our Dame did not think so at first, but thought and thinks doubly so afterwards) seemed nearly ^wzce as good as any other we could get at the money : so on Saturday afternoon we finally fixed ; and moved hither, according to appointment, on Tuesday forenoon. Bessy Barnet had joined us from Birmingham the night before ; and we came all down in a Hackney Coach, loaded with luggage, and CMco (the Canary-bird) sing- ing on Bessy's knee. Jane says the little atom put great heart into, her frequently through the journey : Ae sang aloud, wherever he might be ; praising, in his way, the Maker that gave him Life and Food and fine weather. How much more should we ! . . . The House, which we have now in- habited (in the Gillhd ^ style) for two days and nights, is certainly by many degrees the suitablest I could find far or near. . . . We lie safe down in a little bend of the river, 1 Make-shift. 1 834 TO HIS MOTHER 413 away from all the great roads ; have air and quiet hardly inferior to Craigenputtock, an outlook from the back - windows into mere leafy regions, with here and there a red high - peaked old roof looking through ; and see nothing of London, except by day the summits of St. Paul's Cathedral and West- minster Abbey, and by night the gleam of the great Babylon affronting the peaceful skies. Yet in half an hour (for it is under two niiles to Piccadilly) we can be, with a pair ' of stout legs, in the most crowded part of the whole habitable Earth ; and, even without legs, every quarter of an hour, from sun to sun, a Coach will take you for sixpence from your own threshold, and set you down there again for another. We are seuth-west from the smoke ; so during great part of the year we shall have no more to do with it than you. Nay even, in East winds, we are ne.3x five miles from the old, manufacturing part of London, and the smoke is all but gone before it reaches us. — As for the House itself, it is probably the best we ever lived in : a right old strong roomy brick house, built near one hundred and [thirty] years ago, and likely to see three races of their modern fashionables fall before it come down : it has all been put in perfect re- pair, and has closets aijd conveniences without end. Our furniture suits it too ; being all of a /strong weighty sort, ... In addition to the many properties of our House, I should have . mentioned a little Garden behind ; where all is 414 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1834 as yet barren or weedy, except a cherry-tree with almost ripe cherries on it, and two miser- able rose-bushes : however, I have got a new set of Garden-tools (for six shillings), and will soon give it at least a clean face. It is of ad- mirable comfort to me, in the smoking way: I can wander about in dressing-gown and straw hat in it, as of old, and take my pipe in peace. I think, were the Railways done, you must see it all with your own eyes, my dear Mother ; that were the shortest way. Of Bessy Barnet I dare not yet say much : we have seen so little of her ; and that little seems so very favourable. She is by far the orderliest, cleverest worker we ever had in the house (hardlyeven excepting Grace Macdonald), and has manners and an appearance of character totally beyond the servant class : if she go on as we hope, and as she has begun, it will be our duty and pleasure to treat her not as a servant but as a friend. On this side too, therefore, we have as yet great reason to be thankful. You see all things painted here in the colours of Hope : there is no doubt but by and by we shall have them (House, Place, Servant and all) painted in the dingier colours of Reality : nevertheless I think and calculate there will still be much more than Tolerability to boast of: much which, with grateful hearts, we should thank the Giver for, and above all study to improve by welldoing, which is the acceptablest sort of thanks. — I write all to you ; because I know there is not any\!^vix^ (down to 1 834 ' TO HIS MOTHER 415 our very water-barrel) that you do not feel a motherly interest in for our sake. The Literary craft is bad, though hardly so bad as I expected. I find I shall get my Book (on the French Revolution) printed without cost ; but probably nothing more. In tbe mean- time I have some Magazine things in my eye, of a slight kind, to work at, and keep " mall in shaft " by ; and then if my Book were well written, and out, I shall have a better name to start Lecturing, etc., with ; and so, on the whole, we sAall make it out, by God's help, better or worse. If to "His glory and my own eternal good," all else will be as dust on the balance, and an exceeding little thing. " They cannot hinder thee of God's Providence : " that is the beautiful part of it. For the rest, my Friends here continue all very kind, and do more for me than I had any right to expect, or even to wish ; I who profess to depend on no friend, but only on God and myself Hunt who lives close by, is not only the kindest but the politest of men ; has never yet been near us (which we reckon very civil), but will always be delighted when I go and rouse Aim for a walk ; and indeed a sprightly sensible talker he is, and very pleasant com- pany for a stroll. Jane greatly preferred his "poetical Tinkerdom" to any of the unpoetical Gigmandoms (even Mrs. Austin's) which I showed her. The Hunts, I think, will not trouble us, and indeed be a pleasure so far as they go. 4i6 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1834 And now, my dear Mother, here surely is enough about London and me for once. As for you and Scotsbrig, I begin to feel exceed- ingly disheartened about my prospects of news thence. Not one scrape of a pen have I yet realised from any of you ; not so much as a Newspaper : the very Courier has not come, I think, for three weeks. You really must not treat me so ; nay I know it is not you, dear Mother : but do you, if none else will, get the Courier Newspaper yourself, and in your own hand, as you can, write our address upon it : that, ^'xihtwo strokes^ (if happily you can still send them) will be a great comfort to me. But, indeed, I do wrong to accuse the rest of negli- gence ; for surely there is some mistake in it : they are too much occupied otherwise, or per- haps had not rightly understood how to direct to me. Give my love to them all ; and not re- proaches but entreaties. . . . my dear Mother ! how much there was to say, which there is now no time for ! May the Almighty Father of us all bless you, and guide all your footsteps ! Through Time and through Eternity. — Blessings with you all ! Ever your affectionate, T. Carlyle. [Postscript by Mrs. Carlyle.] Is not all this very satisfactory, my dear Mother, and have we not great cause of 1 " By a certain pair of strokes [on the Newspapers], un- meaning to the uninitiated, we inform one another that all is well." — From Letter to Dr. Carlyle, 22d July 1834. i834 TO DR. CARLYLE 417 thankfulness ? I declare to you I could not have made myself a better house if I had had money at command ; and for my servant, I expect she will be sister to me as well as servant. — No fear but we shall get a living, and my Husband will be healthier and happier than he has been for long years.^ — I will write you a long letter "with my own hand" when I am a little settled, at present I am so busy fettling up things ! but Bessy is equal to all, and Eliza Miles is come to help me besides. Everybody is kind to me — and has-been kind to me. I shall ever remember you all with grati- tude as well as love. God be with you every one. — Your affectionate, Jane. CXIX. — To Dr. Carlyle, Naples. Cheyne Row, Chelsea, London, iTth June 1834. My dear Br.other ^ . . . You can fancy what weary lonesome wanderings I had, through the dusty suburbs, and along the burning streets, under a fierce May sun with East wind; "seeking through the nation for some habitation " ! At length Jane sent ^ me comfortable tidings of innumerable difficulties overcome ; and finally (in, I think, the fourth week) arrived herself; with the Furniture all close following her, in one of 'Pickford's Track- boats. I carried her to certaifi of the hopeful- lest-looking Houses I had fallen in with, and a toilsome time we anew had : however, it was not long ; for, on the second inspection, this, 2 E 4i8 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYEE 1834 old Chelsea mansion pleased very decidedly far better than any other we could see ; and, the people also whom it belongs to proving reason- able, we soon struck a bargain, and in three days more (precisely this day week) a Hackney Coach, loaded to the roof and beyond it with luggage and live -passengers, tumbled us all down here about eleven in the morning. By " all " I mean my Dame and myself ; Bessy Barnet, who had come the night before [ and — little Chico, the Canary-bird, who, multum jactatus, did nevertheless arrive living and well from Puttock, and even sang violently all the way by sea or land, nay struck up his lilt in the very London streets wherever he could see green leaves and feel the free air.^ There then we sat- on three trunks; I, however, with a match-box, soon lit a cigar, as Bessy did a fire ; and thus with a kind of cheerful solemnity we took possession by " raising reek," and even dined in an extempore fashioti, on a box -lid covered with some accidental towel. At two o'clock the Pickfords did arrive ; and then began the hurly-burly ; which even yet has but grown quieter, will not grow quiet, for a fort- night to come. However, two rooms and two bedrooms are now in a partially civilised state ; the broken Furniture is mostly mended ; I have my old writing-table again {^&x&) firm as Atlas ; a large wainscoted drawing-room (which is to 1 See Reminiscences, i. 10 1 ; the strong grasp of Carlyle's njemory on the events of the past is strikingly illustrated by a comparison of the passages. 1 834 TO DR. CARLYLE 419 be my study) with the "red carpet" tightly spread on it ; my Books all safe in Presses ; the Belisarius Picture ^ right in front of me over the mantel-piece (most suitable to its new wain- scot lodging), and my beloved Segretario Am- bulante^ right behind, with the two old Italian Engravings, and others that I value less, dis- persed around ; and so, opposite the middle of my three windows, with little but huge Scotch elm-trees looking in on me, and in the distance an ivied House, and a sunshiny sky bursting out from genial rain, I sit here already very much at home, and impart to my dear and true Brother a thankfulness which he is sure to share in. We have indeed much reason to be thankful every way. With the House we are all highly pleased, and, I think, the better, the longer we know it hitherto. I know not if you ever were at Chelsea, especially at Old Chelsea, of which this is portion. It stretches from Battersea Bridge (a queer old wooden structure, where they charge you a halfpenny) along the bank 1 A French print of Belisarius begging alms. The print was valued only because the face of a young Roman soldier in it reminded Mrs. Carlyle of her father, Dr. Welsh. — M. C. 2 Brought by Dr. Carlyle from Italy. A little common coloured lithograph of a ragged old man, seated behind a board on trestles (a quill in his hand, another behind his ear and a third in his inkbottle), plying his trade, the writing of letters at dictation for illiterate passers-by. Carlyle says, in a letter of the 1 8th November 1833, "He is a delightful fellow ; shows you Literature in its simplest quite steadfast condition, below which it cannot sink." Carlyle always liked the little picture, which to the last hung in his bedroom at Chelsea. — M. C. 420 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1834 of the River, westward a little way ; and east- ward (which is our side) some quarter of a mile, forming a " Cheyne Walk " (pronounced Chainie walk) of really grand old brick mansions, dating perhaps from Charles II.'s time (" Don Saltero's Coffeehouse " of the Tatler is still fresh and brisk among them), with flagged pavement ; carriage-way between two rows of stubborn- looking high old pollarded trees ; and then the River with its varied small craft, fast-moving or safe -moored, and the wholesome smell (among the breezes) of sea tar. Cheyne Row (or Great Cheyne Row, when we wish to be grand) runs up at right angles from this, has some twenty Houses of the same fashion ; Upper Cheyne Row (where Hunt lives) turn- ing again at right angles, some stone-cast from this door. Frontwards we have the outlook I have described already (or if we shove out our head, the River is disclosed some hundred paces to the left) ; backwards, from the ground floor, our own gardenkin (which I with new garden -tools am actually re -trimming every morning), and, from all the other floors, nothing but leafy clumps, and green fields, and red high-peaked roofs glimmering through them : a most clear, pleasant prospect, in these fresh westerly airs ! Of London nothing visible but Westminster Abbey and the topmost dome of St. Paul's ; other faint ghosts of spires (one other at least) disclose themselves, as the smoke-cloud shifts ; but I have not yet made out what they are. At night we are pure and 1 834 TO DR. CARLYLE 421 silent, almost as at Puttock ; and the gas-light shimmer of the great Babylon hangs stretched from side to side of our horizon. • To Bucking- ham Gate it is thirty-two minutes of my walk- ing (Allan Cunningham's door about half way) ; nearly the very same to Hyde-Park Corner, to which latter point we have omnibuses every quarter of an hour (they say) that carry you to the Whitehorse Cellar, or even to Coventry Street, for sixpence ; calling for you at the very threshold. Nothing was ever so discrepant in my experience as the Craigenputtock-silence of this House and then the world -hubbub of London and its people into which a few minutes bring you : I feel as if a day spent between the two must be the epitome of a month. . . . The rent is £2>S '< which really seems ;^io cheaper than such a House could be had for in Dum- fries or Annan. The secret is our old friend, " Gigmanity " : Chelsea is unfashionable ; it is also reputed unhealthy. The former quality we rather like (for our neighbours still are all polite-living people) ; the latter we do not in the faintest degree believe in, remembering that Chelsea was once considered the " London Montpelier," and knowing that in these matters now as formerly the Cockneys "know no- thing," only rush in masses blindly and sheep- wise. Our worst fault is the want of a good free rustic walk, like Kensington Gardens, which are above a mile off : however, we have the "College" or Hospital Grounds, with their withered old Pensioners ; we have open car- 422 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1834 riage-ways, and lanes, and really a very pretty route to Piccadilly (different from the omnibus route) through the new Grosvenor edifices, Eaton Square, Belgrave Place, etc. : I have also walked to Westminster Hall by Vauxhall Bridge -end, Millbank, etc. ; but the road is squalid, confiised, dusty and detestable, and happily need not be returned to. To conclude, we are here on literary classical ground, as Hunt is continually ready to declare and un- fold : not a stone-cast from this House Smollett wrote his Count Fathom (the house is ruined and we happily do not see it) ; hardly another stone-cast off, old More entertained Erasmus : to say nothing of Bolingbroke St. John, of Paradise Row and the Count de Grainmont, for in truth we care almost nothing for them. On the whole we are exceedingly content so far ; and have reason to be so. I add only that our furniture came with wonderfully little breakage, and for less than ;^20, Annan in- cluded ; that Jane sold all her odd things to Nanny Macqueen on really fair terms ; and that we find new furniture of all sorts exceed- ingly cheap here, and have already got what we need, or nearly so, for less than our own old good, brought us on the spot. . . . There is now a word to be said on Economics, and the Commissariat Department. Bookselling is still at its lowest ebb ; yet on the whole better than I expected to find it. Eraser is the only craftsman I have yet seen : he talks still of loss by his Magazine ; and 1 834 TO DR. CARLYLE 423 I think will not willingly employ me much, were I never so ready, at the old rate of writing. He seems a well-intentioned creature ; I can really pity him in the place he occupies. I went yesterday with a project of a series of Articles on French Revolution matters ; chiefly to be translated from Mdmoires : but he could not take them, at my rate, or indeed at almost any rate ; for he spoke of ^10 a sheet as quite a ransom. He has got my name (such as it is), and can do better without me. However, he will cheerfully print (for " half-profits," that is, zero) a projected Book of mine on the French Revolution ; to which accordingly, if no new thing occur, I shall prob- ably very soon with all my heart address myself, in full purpose to do my best, and put my name to it. The Diamond Necklace Paper his Boy got from me, by appointment, this morning ; to be examined whether it will make a Book : as an Article I shall perhaps hardly think of giving it to him. For, you are to understand, that Radical Review of Mill's, after seeming to be quite abandoned, has now a far fairer chance of getting started : a Sir W. Molesworth, a young man whom I have seen at Buller's and liked, offers to furnish all the money himself (and can do it, being very rich), and to take no further hand in it, once a Manager that will please Mill is found for it. Mill is to be here to-morrow evening : I think, I .must appoint some meeting with Molesworth, and give him my whole views of it, and ex- 424 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1834 press my readiness to take a most hearty hold of it ; having the prospect of right companions ; none yet but Mill and Buller, and such as we may further approve of and add. It seems likely something may come of this. In any other case, Periodical Authorship, like all other forms of it, seems done in the economical sense : I think of quite abandoning it ; of writing my Book ; and then, with such name as it may give me, starting some new course, or courses, to make honest wages by. A poor Fanny Wright (whom we are to hear to-night in Freemasons' Hall) goes lecturing over the whole world : before sight, I will engage to lecture twice as well ; being, as Glen once said, with great violence, to me, " the more gigantic spirit of the two." On the whole, I fear nothing. There are funds here already to keep us going above a year, independently of all incomings : before that we may have seen into much, tried much, and succeeded in somewhat. "God's providence they cannot hinder thee of" : that is the thing I always repeat to myself, or know without repeating. . . . God bless you, dear Brother! Vale mei meinor. T. Carlyle. CXX. — To his Mother, Scotsbrig. 5 Cheyne Row, Chelsea, London, bth July 1834. ... I have got a heap of Books about me and am actually employing myself daily 1 834 TO MRS. AITKEN 425 in preparation of that Book of my own ! It is on the French Revolution, which seems far the eligiblesf for my first : there is an appetite for it ; there are plenty of Documents and materials ; Mill himself laid me out the other day a whole barrowful, and insisted on my getting them over all at once. They are not come yet, but are coming — by the "Carrier," for we have Carriers between district and district of this huge city, ^ome with horses, some with asses, some for aught I know with dogs — the lightest draught -cattle in use here. — I am determined to do my very best, and shall, like Cowthwaite, " maM an a'f-f-f-u struggle."^ Do you prophesy well of me ? I hope you do. Of your wishes for me there could be no improve- ment. . . . CXXI. — To Mrs. Aitken, Dumfries. 5 Cheyne Row, Chelsea, London, bth July 1834. My dear Jean — :Your Letter, which was the first I had received from any of my Friends in Scotland, proved one of the welcomest I ever got. The Postman's two knocks (for all Post- men give two smart thumps, which are known here and elsewhere as the " Postman's Knock ") brought me it and the Newspaper, and delivered me from a multitude of vague imaginations. Newspapers indeed had come the week before, and persuaded me that nothing material was wrong : however, it was still the best that could 1 Cowthwaite, an Annandale neighbour, doubtless a stutterer. 426 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE i&34 happen to have it all confirmed in black-on-white. Tell James that, in spite of his critical penetra- tion, the Letter ''could go," and did go, and was welcomed as few are. Whatever you may think, it is not a "ten minutes " matter with me, the filling of a frank that will carry an ounce of thin writing paper : it is a decided business which breaks the head of a Day for me ; which breakage, however, I am generally well disposed to execute. Do you also take a large, even a /o;z^-shaped sheet, a clear-pointed pen, and in the smallest hand you can master, repay it me. By no means must I want Dumfriesshire news, especially news about my Mother. The tax-loaded Post-office is still the most invaluable of Establishments ; and the ancient men, that invented Writing, and made the voice of man triumphant over Space and Time, were deservedly accounted next to gods. I would have you in particular, do your en- - deavour by assiduous practice (there is no other method) to perfect yourself in that divine art, the uses of which no man can calculate : in time, as I predict, you will acquire very con- siderable excellence. As for good composition, it is mainly the result of good thinking, and improves with that, if careful observation as you read attends it : the Penmanship is a secondary matter, and has only three points of perfection, or at most four, that I know of ; in all of which one may advance indefinitely by exertions of one's own : that it be straight across the paper, that it be distinct, that it be rapid, — to which if 1834 TO MRS. AITKEN 427 you like, add that it be close, or much of it in a given space. " These are good advices " ? They are not mine, but the Apostle Butter- worth's ! ^ I did not design answering you so soon by a week or ten days ; as I said in Alick's Letter : but there has come a sheet from Naples, which I was beginning to be very impatient for, and I would not keep it back an instant from my Mother, whose impatience probably is still greater. She has already got hint of it in the last Examiner, and also that it is coming by you on Wednesday : so I take occasion by the fore- lock, and hope I shall not miss the day again, as I fear was done in the Catlinns case, after all my exertions : as for you, make up the Parcel again, instantly for Jardine^ and Scotsbrig, or there will be no forgiveness for you. As you have doubtless seen or will see the copious despatches I have sent to Annandale about our Household Establishment, wherein nothing from the very watering-pan and mari- gold flowers upwards is forgotten, I need not dilate farther on that topic. We have at length all but got the last stragglers of the upholsterer squadron handsomely conducted out of doors, with far less damage than might have been apprehended ; and sit quietly in a Dwelling-place really much beyond what could have been anti- cipated ; where, if Providence but grant us grace not to be wanting to ourselves, the rest may pass quite uncriticised. We have not yet 1 Of spelling book celebrity in those Says. ^ xhe canier. 428 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1834 ceased to admire the union of quietness, and freshness of air, and the outlook into green trees (Plum trees, Walnuts, even Mulberries, they say), with the close neighbourhood of the noisiest Babylon that ever raged and fumed (with coal smoke) on the face of this Planet. I can alternate between the one. and the other in half an hour ! The London streets themselves are a quite peculiar object, and I daresay of almost inexhaustible significance. There is such a torrent of vehicles and faces : the slow-rolling, all-defying waggon, like a mountain in motion, the dejected Hackney-coach, that " has seen better days," but goes along as with a tough uncomplaining patience, the gay equipage with its light bounding air, and flunkies of colour hanging behind it ; the distracted Cab (a thing like a Cradle set aslant on its foot-end, where you sit open in front but free from rain), which always some blackguard drives, with the fury of Jehu ; the huge Omnibus (a painted Corn-kist, of twenty feet long, set on four wheels : no, it can- not be twenty feet !) which runs along all streets from all points of the compass, as a sixpenny or shilling stage-coach towards " The Bank " (of England) ; Butchers' and Brewers' and Bakers' Drays : all these, with wheelbarrows, trucks {hurlies), dogcarts, and a nameless flood of other sma' trash, hold on unweariedly their ever- vexed chaotic way. And then of foot-pass- engers ! From the King to the Beggar ; all in haste, all with a look of care and endeavour ; and as if there were really " Deevil a thing but 1 834 TO MRS. AIT KEN 429 one man oppressing another." To wander along and read all this : it is reading one of the strangest everlasting iWzc/^^^r Columns the eye ever opened on. A Newspaper Column oi living Letters (as I often say), that was printed in Eternity, and is here published only for a little while in Time, and will soon be recalled and taken out of circulation again ! For the rest, we live exceedingly quiet here ; as yet visited by few, and happily by almost none that is not worth being visited by. At any time, in half an hour, I can have company enough of the sort going; and scarcely above once or twice in the week is my Day taken from me by any intrusion. I am getting rather stiffly to work again ; and once well at work, can defy the whole Powers of Darkness, and say in my heart (as Tom Ker the mason did to Denbie and " the Marquis " or some military minion of his) : "Ye will go your lengths, Gentlemen; my name's Tom Ker." By and by, if all go right, you shall see some book of mine with my name (not of " Tom Ker ") on it, and the best I can do. Pray that it be honestly done, let its recep- tion be what it will. Of "amusements," beyond mere strolling, I take little thought. By acquaintance with Newspaper people (such as Hunt), I fancy we might procure free admission to the Theatres, even to the Opera, almost every night : but, alas, what would it avail ? I actually went, one idle night before Jane came, to Covent Garden ; found it a very mystery of stupidity and a,bomi- 430 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1834 nation ; and so tiresome that I came away long before the end, and declare that the dullest sermon I ever heard was cheery in comparison. The night before last, looking out from our (back) Bedroom window, at midnight, I saw the many-coloured rockets rising from Vauxhall Gardens, and thought with myself: " Very well,- gentlemen, if you have ' guinea admission ' to spare for it ; only, thank Heaven, I am not within a measured mile of you ! " — There are a few good, even noble people here too ; there must be a few ; if there were not, the whole concern would take fire : of these I even know some, and hope to know more. But now, my dear Sister, you have enough of London : let me turn a little northward. I am much obliged by your description of Mother's settlement ; I can form a very tolerable notion of her arrangement in the two well-known rooms, and find it the most natural that could be made.^ I hope, however, the Clock is now got safely hoisted up : surely, among so many stout hands, any task of that kind could not be difficult. However, where a Honeymoon is in progress one must thole,^ one must thole. I also like very well to hear of your Jamie's boarding with our Mother, while he is at his work in the neighbourhood ; I follow him across the fresh fields, early in the morning, to the Hd ^ and heartily wish him a useful day. 1 Her son James having recently brought a bride home to Scotsbrig. 2 Endure, have patience. ^ Kirkconnell Hall. 1 834 jrO MRS. AITKEN , 43 1 There is no other way of making a pleasant day, that I could ever hear of. That he finds employment in his honest vocation is a great blessing, for which I trust you are thankful. Tell him to follow his vocation honestly, not as a man-pleaser, or one working for the eye of man only, but as one forever under another Eye that never slumbers or sleeps, that sees in secret, and will reward openly. I hope and believe that this is his course, that he will perse- vere in it, let the wind of accident blowjfair or foul ; and so I can prophesy all manner of good for him. . . . There is much loud thunder to-day, and a copious deluge of rain ; of all which we hope to reap the benefit to-morrow ; for the air was growing foully uncomfortable, and oppressive too ; a sour east-wind, amid the sultriest brick- kiln heat, with dusts enough and vapours as we have them on these streets and ways. A day's rain washes everything above ground and be- neath it ; next morning we can " snuff the caller air," for it is there to snuff. . . . This is a far larger Letter than yours, Dame ; and deserves two in return for it ; think of that, and of what you are to do in consequence. . . . That Scotsbrig residence, I think with you and have always thought, can hardly be permanently comfortable for our Mother ; if it serve well for one year, that is all I hope of it : then other outlooks may have opened. In the meanwhile, Toleration, "the Act of mutual Toleration " ! One can live 432 LETTERS OF THOMAS CARLYLE 1834 without it nowhere on this Earth's surface. — Remember me kindly to dear little Prudence.^ Tell her to mind her seam, and be considerate and wise, and grow daily wiser ; and it will go better and better with her. — Jane, whose health seems better than of old and still improving, sends her love to all of you. . . . And so fare- well, my dear Sister. Be true and loving ! — Ever your affectionate, T. Carlyle. CXXII. — To his Mother, Scotsbrig. 5 Cheyne Row, Chelsea, London, London " amusements," 429. Preliminary perplexities as to writing The French Revolution, 442, 462 : finds it a tough struggle ; going to be a very queer book, 483-495 : MS. of first volume destroyed, 498-509 : is re-writing, 500-511, 542: com- pletes it, 548. Delighted by a letter from his mother, 447, 450. Sartor has met with no recog- nition in'these parts, but Emer- son sends me the most cheering letter of thanks, 434 ; Hunt spends evenings with ; Chelsea College ; London street tumult a kind of marching music to me ; company not deficient ; Allan Cunningham, Hunt, Mill ; Lon- don-born men seem fractions of a man ; I sometimes long greatly for the old Irving of fifteen yeare ago, nay, the poor actual gift-of-tongues Irving has seemed desirable to me, 435- 439 ; dines with Mr. and Mrs. INDEX 589 Taylor ; no hope in the Socinians ; reads in Mill's face that he has given the editorship of the Lon- don Review to Fox ; Mill offers to print the Diamond Necklace; disappointment on disappoint- ment simplifies one's course ; Heraud, too, has a periodical ; heartily obliged to Emerson and to Father O'Shea ; tout va hien ici, le pain manque ; utter poverty should it even come has no terrors for me ; ad- mitted to see poor Irving, too likely he will die ; Jane takes well with Chelsea, 439-446; Hunt a very boy for clear inno- cence, 452 ; sees the burning of the Houses of Parliament ; nothing can exceed the oblig- ingness of Mill, 455 - 458. "Friends of the species" and their singular creed ; sees Allan Cunningham and his wife, George Rennie, Eastlake, Cockerell, the Austins, and Hay ward; "the happiness of commonplace," 464 - 466 ; I shall swim in the water, did I once know the currents, 472. To his mother : Jane introduced to Mrs. Somerville; description of Buller's "Radical meeting"; my French Revolution will keep me all winter, but if the people read it, or it be worth reading, we won't complain: I see you at Scotsbrig; with kind thoughts to your children, and assurance that they send you the like, 469-472 ; a new hat and a "rifle-green" coat ; my poor Dame has a burnt foot and sits prisoner, but is getting better, 474; so motion- less over the task - sheet the world is almost foreign to me. 487 ; homoeopathy a delusion, 488, 504 ; in a new sort of health; in my mind, feel quite young yet and growing as when I was eighteen ; daily life, 489- 491 ; in America the sky's bounty is not whisked away as by art magic into hands that have not toiled for it ; meets Southey ; Henry Taylor's laugh reminds me of poor Irving ; meeting with Wordsworth, 496- 512; the Globe, all that has any fun in it is by BuUer, 514; the " Literary World " defied — in the name of God ; forwards "this good Emerson's letter"; "the Poor, I think, will get up and tell you how improved their condition is" ; doubts of his own book, and books in general ; will try to get something to do in the "National Education" which the Parliament is busy upon ; invitation to lecture in America ; illness of Charles Austin, 523-527 ; John Sterling, a new young figure risen on us : a whole retinue of curious persons belong to him ; the elder Sterling; "Mr.Duim,whorefused a bishopric"; meets O'Connell; the Americans order "50 or 100 copies " of Sartor, only three to be had ; commis- sions to Dr. Carlyle in Paris : maps, Vernet's Caricatures, Qa- ira for the piano, etc., 527-546 ; his mother visits Mrs. Welsh, 536, 551 ; sees the King in Hyde Park, 539 ; a letter from George Ripley ; Jane getting Italian lessons ; ill - off about servants, 542-552. No trip to Munich, having promised to see ray mother yearly, must to Scotland, 549; 59° INDEX Mrs. Welsh here, happy enough to be beside her child again ; hot weather has withered us all up ; Jane broke down into the most violent series of headaches ; different forms of distraction amongst servants ; better to have a small apartment and sweep and arrange it for myself ; miserable arrangement as to master and servant, 551, 552. To his wife (from Annan, 1835) : present bad equipment for writing, and reasons for delay ; describes journey and visit to her uncle at Liverpool : my mother well and cheerful ; have heard much about Templand ; a rocking of cradles and a quackling and lullabying in all these houses ; the presents and playthings joyfully wel- comed ; approves of Alick's resolve to emigrate ; all so sad, spectralheie, yet like healing oil to be let alone, and see greenness round me. I do hope you are a little quieter, stronger; know at any rate for some comfort that I have all but hired you a servant. Is Harry (her pony) to be sold ? Kiss your mother, and say that means m^ love. Love me, my dear lassie, and fear God, and I swear by Him there shall nothing go ill with us, 555- 564. Asks Harry Inglis's help for a young orphan cousin, 567. Sterling proves by far the loveablest man I have met for many a year ; article on, in the North American Review, 573. 574 ; death of Alick's child Margaret, 575. That vil- lage of Ecclefechan gave me the strangest unearthly feeling. Hades itself were slight change to me from this fearful and wonderful mystery of a world ; admires old Mirabeau's saying, " // a HUME totites les for- mules" ; am calm but energetic, 578-580 Carson, Dr., 557 Catholic question, 146, 147 Cervantes, See Von Quixote Chalmers, Dr., professor at St. Andrews, 83, 87 ; his resigna- tion, 96 Characteristics, 246 note; accepted by Napier, 284 ; Carlyle's own opinion of, 284 Chelsea, description of, 419-422 ; literary associations of, 422 ; Car- lyle's removal to : his house, 412- 414, 417-421 Chico, the canaiy-bird, 409, 411, 412, 418 Cholera, 265 ; Carlyle does not fear, 271, 283, 340; at Had- dington, 283, 305 ; at Dumfries, 339 Clare, Countess of, Dr. Carlyle travelling physician to, 223, 227; mentioned, 312, 347, 487, 547 Clerk, Robert, his strange death, '55 Clow, Robert, 195 note; his liking for Sartor Resartus, 495 Cobbett, William, 85 note; re- turned for Oldham, 346 Cochrane, 343, 376, 407 Cockerell, Mr., 466 Coleridge, S. T., 234 ; death and character, 435 Cook, Dr., candidate for the St. Andrews Professorship, 89, 96, 109 Coke, Mr., a disciple of Carlyle, 236, 237 Corn Law Rhymes, article by Carlyle, 317, 324 INDEX 591 Cornelius, artist, 91 Coronation of William IV., Car- lyle sees the procession, 241, 242 Cousin, Victor, the London Pro- fessorship and, 76 ; mentioned also, 90, 140 Craigcrook, 47 note; dinner at, 57 Craigenputtock, Carlyle proposes to live at : his wife fond of the project, 25-31 ; Mrs. Welsh helps about negotiations, 33-41 ; Alexander Carlyle removes to, 43 : will be a stronghold, 58 ; furnishing, 69 ; visitation of smoke, 86, 156 ; Carlyle re- moves to, no; daily life at, 113, 128; new farm-house at, 119; Jeffrey visits, 1 24, 1 66, 170; hills gleaming with burning heath, 141 ; Alexander Car- lyle's ill fortune at, 161, 210 : decides to leave, 193, 194; en- graved at Weimar, 168, 175 ; stillness and beauty of, 129, 212; almost ghastly solitude of, 173, 249, 270, 289, 323 ; winter at, 177, 185; "castle of many chagrins," 249 ; the Carlyles return for the summer of 1832, 311; Mrs. Carlyle's better health at, 316; shooting let, 372, 445 ; preparations for final removal from, 389 Craik, G. L., 553 Cromwell, allusion to, 198 Cruthers and Johnson, Carlyle's article, 166 note Culture, the only blessing to strive for, 53 Cunningham, Allan, a public din- ner to, at Dumfries, 238 tiote ; residence, 421; calls from, 439, 466 ; characterised, 478 Cunningham, Dr. Peter, men- tioned, 544 ; his book on New South Wales, 519 Dante, a class of damned souls, the "respectable people " of this generation, 553 Death, thoughts on, loi, 105, 106 ; the cup goes round, and who so cunning as to pass it by, 131 ; frightful even in a brute, 209 ; grown transparent, 299 Demonology, Dr. Carlyle's article on, 182 De Quincey, 97, 133, 147 Detrosier, 292 Diamond Necklace, 376, 423 ; Mill offers to print at his expense, 440, 442 Diderot,. 285, 326, 343, 361 Diet, hints to Dr. Carlyle for an article on, 181 Dilke, C. W., his philosophy, 234 ; mentioned, 287 Dilletantism, 144 Disorder, man's duty is to remedy, 277 Dixon, Frank, 92 Dobie, "the preacher," 126 note Don Quixote, 129; "few lan- guages equal to Spanish, and few lips so melodious as those of Cervantes," 134 "Don Saltero's Coflfee- house," 420 ' Dow, minister of Irongray, 504 Duncan, Rev. Henry, 56 Dunn, Rev. Mr., "refused a bishop- rick," 531 ; visits from, 543, SS3> 573 ; his conversation, 579 Dynamism, 198 Eastlake, Sir Charles, 466 Edinburgh, Carlyle settles at, i ; literary society in, 97 ; fatal epidemic at, 283 ; compared 592 INDEX with London, 345, 353 ; power of thought has forsaken, 357 Edinburgh Review, Carlyle's articles in, 60, 61, 79, 82; State of German Literature, 76, 79 > maltreatment of article onBurm, 123, 137; Napier editor of, 149]; salary fair, vehicle respectable, 180; Characteristics, 260, 272, 274, 278, 284, 343 Editors v. authors, 124 note Education, German, study of, recommended, 99 Eichthal, Baron d', invites Dr. Carlyle to Munich, 54 note, 68 ; his hospitality, 84 ; mentioned, 91, III Eichthal, Gustave d', calls on Carlyle, 292 ; Emerson and : message to, 371 ; mentioned, 532 Elections, 346, 477 Emerson, visits Carlyle, 371 ; cheering letters from, 434, 523 ; on Sartor, 443 ; wishes Carlyle to lecture in America, 526 Emigration, prevalence of, 356 ; becoming inevitable, 534 Empson, Mr., mentioned, 235, 236; breakfast with, 239 Examiner, newspaper, preferred by Carlyle, 153; Fonblanque, editor, 234, 260, 288 ; irregu- larity in publication, 458, 491, S°3 Factory children. Overworked, 356 " Fairest Phillis," 400 note Farming, done or nearly so, 194; a bad trade, 261, 492 ; in America it were something, 492 Faust, 189, 192 Fenwick, Miss, 496, 5 1 1 Fichte, reading, 53; "Fichte's mongrel," 67 Fonblanque, A., 234 note, 260; described, 263, 288, 496 Forbes, David James, 345 note Foreign Quarterly Review, article on Werner for, 66 ; articles on Goethe in, 112, 120, 317; Reinecke Fuchs in, 233 ; Diderot in, 343 ; alluded to, 361 Foreign Review, mentioned. III, 175; Life of Heyne in, 120; German Playwrights for, 131; Voltaire and Novalis written for, 139 ; Jean Paul in, 167 Fox, editor of \!d& London Review, 440 ; mentioned, 464 ; editor of the Repository, 496 Eraser, James (of Eraser's Maga- zine), letter of Carlyle to, 364- 367 ; report on reception of Sartor Resartus, 382 ; pays for it, 442 ; declines to reprint it, 523 ; arrangement with, as to publishing French Revolution, 423 ; characterised, 159, 306, 423 ; mentioned also, 167, 463, 496 Fraser, William (editor of Foreign Review), article on Schiller sen\. to, 167 ; his connection with Eraser's Magazine, 159 note, i67i 17s note, 366; negotiates for the Goethe seal, 204, 220 ; Carlyle dines with, 225 ; mentioned also, 227, 233, 241 Eraser's Magazine, its origin, 17S note ; Irving wishes Carlyle to become editor of, 227 ; Sartor Resartus to be printed in, 361, 364 : its reception in, 382 ; portrait of Carlyle in, 367,- 407 French Revolution, History of the. See under Carlyle, Thomas Froude, Mr. J. A., his Life of Car- lyle, its inaccuracies noted, 4, 22, 25, 197, 215, 217, 2S4, INDEX 593 297. 3". 345, 436; "gey ill to deal wi'," as cited by, 33 Galloway, Mr., 80 German Literature, State of, in the Edinburgh Review, 76, 79 German Literature, A History of, Carlyle writing, 157, 165; diffi- culties as to publishing, 165, 171, 191 ; Dr. Lardnerand, 278 }iote, 286 German Playwrights, Carlyle's article, 131; an "unmystical paper," 134 German Romance, Specimens of, publication of, 7 - 1 S ; reviews of, 23 Germany, education in, 99 ; Car- lyle an honorary member of the Gesellschaft fiir auslandische Literatur, 176 "Gey ill to deal wi'," Mr. Froude's inaccurate rendering of the phrase, 33 note Gleig, Mr., writes to Carlyle about ^ Life of Goethe, 159, 162 Glen, Archibald, 374, 375, 380 Glen, W. , mentioned, 230 ; charac- terised, 247 note, 268 ; boards near Craigenputtock, 375-380 ; reads Homer with Carlyle, 375, 390, S°3 Goethe, letter to Carlyle from, 47 ; reply to, 53 ; request for a testimonial from, 89-94, 109; sends medals for Sir Walter Scott, 95, ll6 ; Carlyle's earlier articles on, 112, 120; biography by Carlyle proposed, 159, 162 ; letters and gifts to Carlyle from, 166-176, 240, 241 ; ornamental seal for, 204, 209, 220 : acknow- ledgment of it from, 253 ; por- trait of, in Preiser's Magazine, 307 note; death of, 309 ; Puneral Oration and Essay on, 317, 2 327; alluded to, 189, 192, 321, 378, 466 Graham, William, of Burnswark, 40, 100, 125; visit from, 373 ; message to, 540 Grahame, Mary, her rye -straw bonnet, 85 note Gray, William, 375 Greave, Alison, 68, 75, 102 Greaves, Mr., 162 Grierson, John, death of, 131 iwte " Griine Gans," original of the, in Sartor Resartus, 555 note Haddington, cholera at, 283 Hamilton, Captain T., 97 note Hamilton, Sir William, pleasant evening with, 97 ; a genuine man, 348 Hay ward. A., friendly offices to Carlyle, 285 note, 466 Hazlitt, 171 Hegel, death of, 283 Heraud, Mr., 225 note, 441 Heyne, C. G., Carlyle's article on, 112, 120, 134; translation of Homer by, 391, 392 Hoddam Hill, 30 Hogg, James, in London society, 295 Homer, 375; translations of, com- pared, 391 Homoeopathic medicine, adelusion, 488 ; its fame in London, 504 Hope, Thomas, his book on Man fumishesatextforC^arflf/'m.f/««, 246, 261 Hunt, Henry, 353 note Hunt, Leigh, his iM'd Byron and Some of his Contemfm-aries, 116; goes house-hunting with Carlyle, 398, 407 ; " kindest of men," 415; relations with Car- lyle, 435; " clear innocence " of, " one of the cleverest men I ever spoke with," 452-457, 544; 594 INDEX income of, 463; "a friend of the species," 465 ; mentioned also, 484 Hunt, Messrs., publishers, 25, 27, 32 Hyde Park, description of, 538 Inglis, H. , quoted, 114; visit from, 130; letters to, 132, 141, 149, 391, 564 ; his interest requested for a relative of. Car- lyle's, 567 Irving, Dr. David, 88, 282, 353 Irving, Edward, letter to Carlyle from, 47 ; testimonial to him from, 56, 88 ; extravagancies noted in procedures and creed of, 92. II4> 234, 252, 258, . 272 ; praises Dr. Carlyle, 224 ; characterised, 183, 258, 308, 347 ; Carlyle's affection and longing for, 439 : his last in- terviews with, 398, 443, 444; is thought to be dying, 444, 4SS Jameson, Mrs., 466 Jeffray, Rev. Mr., 325, 327 Jeffrey, Francis, Carlyle introduced to : interview with, invited to the Law Courts by, asked to " Germanise the public" in the Edinburgh Review by, 22, 23, 46: his liking for, 47-53: as to professorships asks advice of, 57-72 : his claims urged by, 76- 88 : a visit with his wife to, 115 : "offers me in the coolest and lightest manner the use of his purse " : " writes often and half loves, half hates me with the utmost sincerity " ; proposed visit from, 120-122; displeases Carlyle by hacking his article on Burns ; visits Craigenputtock ; admonitions to his host from ; a meeting with, at Dumfries, 148; visits Craigenputtock again, is well liked there ; his generosity to HazUtt ; tries to find a pub- lisher for the German Literary History, 1 70 -173; becomes Lord Advocate ; elected to parlia- ment; in London, "his letters exclusively addressed to Jane have a very tumultuous, frothy, whirlpoolish character " ; pos- sible disastrous effect of St. Stephen's on a pretty little gem ; kindness of, to Dr. Carlyle, 200- 219 : lends money to him, 231, 326, 335 : a letter from, 205, 206 ; proposes to find a govern- ment clerkship for Carlyle, 2 19 ; Carlyle takes MS. of Sartor to ; is too busy for private talk ; friendship with Carlyle waning : let me remember also that the pressure of such a situation as mine can be known to him (Jeffrey) only theoretically, 226- 23 1 ; calls on the Carlyles, 269, 288, 295 : they meet him in Edinburgh, 348 ; Carlyle hints as to a professorship in the gift of, 353 ; an accidental meeting with, 410, 513 ; calls at Chelsea, 518 Johnson, Carlyle's article, 199, 278, 285, 304, 306 Johnstone, James, 10 ; a letter from Carlyle to, 75, 503 Jones, Paul, 359 Keevil, Richard, 17, 21, 26 Kensington Garden, 397 " Kirk and a mill," 94 Kleinstddierei, 149 Knight, Payne, 392 Laing, Dr., 59 Lamartine, 140 INDEX 595 Landalls, quoted, 44 Lardner, Dr., proposes to publish the History of German Litera- ture, 278 note, 286 Larry, death of the horse, 208 Leslie, Prof., 88 ; death of, 345 Lessing, 135 Life, Carlyle's philosophy of, 16, 61, 67 ; the truth lies beyond, ipi ; life beyond death, 105 ; pity is for the living, 106 ; man is Born unto toil, III, 113; Carlyle's views on, 142-145, 163, 200-203, 290, 294 ; sicvos non vobis universal in, 19S ; to be accounted for, 288 ; given for work, 323 Lockhart, 116. 5«^ Burns London, the litterateurs of, 227 ; a twilight intellectual city, 264 ; the tumult of, 270 ; fog, 280, 283 ; great charm there, 294 ; Carlyle settles in Chelsea, 412- 419 ; streets full of interest, 428,429,438,481,511 Lpndon Review started by Mill and Molesworth, 423, 433 ; editorship given to Fox, 440, 496, 554; united with the West- minster, 580 Luther, Carlyle's article on, 1 49 ; "life of, to be "my best book," 162 ; his hymn translated, 173 Macaulay, T. B., iio MaccuUoch, Prof., 67 M'Diarmid, Mr., 146, 321 Maclise, portrait of Carlyle by, 307. 367 Macqueen, Nanny, 36, 422, 445 Magazines, writing for, the death of literature, 200 ; below street- sweeping, 208 Maginn, Dr., 368 Man of Feeling, 80 Marriage opposed by "friends of the species," 465 Melbourne ministry, 524 Mercury, The, 96 Mill, J. S. , Carlyle's first meeting with, 235-264; MS. of Sartor Resartus lent to, 268, 288 ; one of the purest and worthiest of men, 377 ; London Review, 423, 433 ; a London-born man, 438, 439 ; offers to print The Diamond Necklace at his own expense, 440 ; lends Carlyle books, 458-463 ; Carlyle's fears for, 464 ; loss of the MS. first volume of The French Revolution, 498-509 Mint, visit to the, 251 Milton quoted, 278, 454 Mirabeau, 463, 579 Mitchell, Mr. Robert, 6, 67 Moir, Mr. George, 93, 97 Molesworth, Sir Wm., 423, 495, 506 Montagu, Mr. Basil, 121, 260, 263, 268 Mont^;u, Mrs. Basil, 47, ^46, 260 Morning Watch, 308 Miillner, Notes on, by Carlyle, 261, 264 Murray, Mr. John, 239 ; accepts MS. of Sartor Resartus, 248 ; returnsit, 262 Napier, Mr. Macvey, letter from Carlyle to, on an editor's privileges, 1 24 note ; editor of the Edinbur^ Review, 149 ; Carlyle's intercourse with, in regard to articles for the Re- mew, 178- 191, 213-232, 259- 286, 304, 317; his one fault, 343. See also Fdiniurgh Review Napier, " Peninsular," 531 Naples, Dr. Carlyle's sketches of. 596 INDEX 312; what to do and see at, 314 Napoleon's snuff-box, 42 Nelson, Ben., 129 note, 560 New Monthly Magazine, 285 note, 317 Nibelungen Lied, article on, 164, 191, 194 ; payment for it given to Dr. Carlyle, 217 Nicol, Principal, 88 North American Review, on Sartor Resartus, 574 Novalis, article, 131, 139 O'CONNELL, Carlyle meets, 528, 531 ; the dining man of the recess, 555 Orderliness, characteristic of Car- lyle, 68 note " Ornament to society," 126 note O'Shea, Father, 443 Owen, Robert, 292 Painting and music, artes perditce, 90 Paris, the wonders of, 140 ; Palais Royal, 140 ; commissions for Dr. Carlyle in, 532, 546 Parliament Houses, the buirning of the, 455. 4S7 Peel, Sir Robert, 525 Pepoli, Count, 553 Poor, the, is their condition im- proving? 524 Procter, B. W., 22 ; mentioned also, 88 Prophecy, not poetry, the want of the age, 378 QuiN, Dr., 504 Radical meeting, a, 470 Radical Review. See London Re- view Rebellion, a barren matter, 486 Reform Bill, general stagnation caused by, 254-279; anxiety about, 271 ; delayed, 295 Reinecke Fachs, article on, 233 Rennie, Mr. George, bust of Thor- waldsen by, 445, 466 Rhetoric, Professorship of, at Lon- don, 56 ; at Edinburgh, 390 Richardson, Mrs., 102, 148 Richter, J. P. F., 7; article for Edinburgh Review on, 46-53 ; Schmelzle's Journey, 93 ; Qatn- paner Thai, 97 ; second article on, 149, 167; poverty of, 193; Richter and Wordsworth, 505, 506 Ripley, Mr. George, Carlyle re- ceives a letter from, 542 Ritchie; Dr., quoted, 43 Robinson, Mr. H. Crabb, 43 St. Andrews University, Car- lyle applies for a Professorship in, 83 - 89 ; not to be counted OH) 93> 96 ; I^r- Cook as good as appointed, 109 Saint-Simon, 178 St. Simonians, a parcel from, 168 ; Goethe warns Carlyle gainst, 176; Carlyle translates the Nouveau Christianisme, 1 78 ; an upholstery aggregation, 267 ; mentioned also, 376 Sartor Resartus, first mentioned, 172, 173; to be two articles, '74) '75; '0 be enlarged, 183; it must out ; to be taken to London; both dross and metal in it, 191, 192; not right yet, 199; Carlyle's opinion of, 175- 220 ; drawing to a close ; refused by Longmans, 226; left with Jeffrey; the sentiment of it not shared in London ; another effort to publish, 227-239 ; accepted by Murray ; publication hindered by the Reform Bill ; returned INDEX 597 by Murray, and locked away ; renewed hopes for, 248-279; Teufelsdreck changed to Teufels- drbckh, 365 note; Carlyle's letter to Fraser describing the work, 364-367; appears in Fraser; meets with unqualified dis- approval, 382, 395 ; printing completed; the paymentfor, 434- 442 ; Fraserwillnot printin book form, 523 ; Sterling's letter on, 528, 531 ; order from America for copies, 531 Schelling, 53, 68, 90 ; message to, SS4 Schiller, article on, 167 Schlegel, 68, 77 Scott, Sir Walter, Carlyle neglects an offer of introduction to, 23 ; medals for, from Goethe, 95 ; mentioned, 67, 116, 236 " Segretario ambulante," 419 note Sharpe, General, needs increase of wisdom, 26 note; "our ain Hoddara, sir ! " 513 note "Sherra' muir," 469 note Signs of the Times, printing of, 149; alluded to. 166. 236, 168 Skinner, Captain, 9'S ^ Smeal, Betty, 304 Socinians, 440 Somerville, Mrs. , characterised, 468 Sorbonne, a forsaken crow-nest of theology, 140 Southey, R., Carlyle's description of, 496,-504 Specimens of German Romance. See German Romance Sterling, John, Carlyle's first ac- quaintance with, 528; criticism ofSartor Resartus hy, 528, 531 ; a retinue of curious persons belonging to, 530, 535"; settles inBayswater, 543; the loveablest man, 573 ; mentioned also, 564 Stewart, Dugald, his admiration for Cousin, 76, 90 ; death of, 121 Strachey, Mrs., Carlyle's great re- gard for, 162; a. " schone Seele": death of her husband, 284 Tait, publishes German Romance : pays for it, 4, 1 5, 43 ; bis maga- zine, 286 : gives it up, 467 Tait, Wull, sudden death of, u8 Tasso, Carlyle's proposed article on, 66 Taylor, Henry, 268 ; introduces Carlyle to Southey and to Words- worth, 504, 512; characterised, 544 Taylor, Mrs. (afterwards Mrs. Mill), 435, 439. 440 Taylor, William, his Survey of German Poetry, reviewed by Carlyle, 178-180, 232; grieved at some parts of the review, 236 Templand, residence of Mrs. Welsh, SI Teufelsdreck. See Sartor. Resartus "There was a piper had a cow," verses, 439 Thomson, Rev. Andrew, 82 "Thornton, Cyril," 97 Thorwaldsen, 445 Vauxhall Gardens, 430 Vernet, Charles, 546 Villiers, Hyde, and Charles, 268 Villemain, 140 Voltaire, Carlyle blamed for con- demning, 23; article on, 131, 139; portrait wanted, 140 Voss, his translation of Homer the best, 391, 392 Waugh, Bailie, 133 note Waugh, Dr., 560 Weimar, projected visit to, 162 598 INDEX Wellington, Duke of, Carlyle's opinion of, 469, 471, 481 ; de- - scribed : the Waterloo dinner, 538 Welsh, Miss Jeannie, 41 note; last illness and death of, 101-106 Welsh, Dr. (Mrs. 'Carlyle's father), 226. Welsh, John, son-in-law of Knox, 327 Welsh, Mrs. (Mrs. Carlyle's mother), visit to the Carlyles at Edinburgh, 37, 45, 355 ; a letter from Carlyle to, 37-40 ; gives a cloak to Carlyle's mother, 150, 154; both nurse and doctor,. 156 ; her patience, 159 ; an im- promptu visit to, 169, 170 ; her troubles, 282; farewell visit to Craigenputtock, 402 ; Carlyle's mother visits, SSij visits Chel- sea, 5SI Werner, Zacharias, article, 66 Westminster Review, 191, 194 > united with Mill's London. Review, 580 William IV., coronation of, 238, 241 ; his rumoured insanity, 410 ; should walk over to Hanover, 519; appearance de- scribed, 539 Wilson, Professor, testimonial from, 88 ; characterised, 67, 93 ; on Carlyle's speech at a dinner, 238 WoUstonecraft, Mary, 336 Wordsworth, Carlyle meets, 505, S12 Wotton Reinfred, Carlyle's novel, 20-46; "an angel of a hero," 48, 89 ; goes wholly to the fire, 45 note YORSTOUN, Mrs.-, loi THE END Printed by R. & R. Clark, Edinburgh MttibKy. MAUMILLA"N~& CO/S PUBLICATIONS. EARLY LETTERS OF THOMAS CABLYLE, 1814-1826. Edited by CHARLES ELIOT NORTON. With Two Portraits. Crown 8vo. ^2-25. The Times says: — "With the evidence before us as set forth in these volumes we should say that Mr. Norton proves his points." The Saturday Revieiv says: — "It cannot be doubted that the greater part of the letters contained in the present collection were eminently well worth publishqig, and that they throw much light of a wholesome kind upon some years of Carlylts life which have hitherto not been sufficiently elucidated. There is always something in every letter which one would be more or less sorry to have lost if it had not been retained. . . . Nearly all the letters given are new." The Standard says : — " Altogether one rises from a perusal of these letters with a feeling that they have, as far as possible, served the purpose of their publication. ... 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REMINISCENCES BY THOMAS CARLYLE. Edited by CHABLES ELIOT NORTON. Crown 8vo. $2 '50. The Saturday Review says : — "It is true that Mr. Norton's volumes are something more than a mere reprint, and that they are distinguished by some additions and omissions from those of 1881, although their contents are substantially the same. The manuscripts left by Carlyle are arranged in a different order, there is an excellent index, and maps have been supplied not only of Dumfriesshire, but of the Western side of Scotland from Gretna Green to the Grampians." The Westminster Review says : — "The contents of the volumes are so well known that it is scarcely necessary to mention them. They are of permanent value and interest. Seldom has a finer tribute been paid to a father's memory than that which is contained in the monograph of the famous man of letters upon the Scotch stone-mason and small farmer to whom he owed his existence. 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Globe 8vo. 1 1 -50. Contents :— Tennyson's Poems.— Wordsworth's Poems.— Poetry and Criticism — Carlyle's Life of Sterling.— " Esmond. "—" Westward Ho I "-Wilson's " Noctes Ambrosianse." — Comte's " Positive Philosophy," etc. MACMILLAN AND CO., LONDON.