Title:
Letter from J[eanne] C. C[arr] to John Muir, [1873] Feb 3.
Creator:
J[eanne] C. C[arr]
Publisher:
University of the Pacific Library Holt-Atherton Special Collections. Please contact this institution directly to obtain copies
of the images or permission to publish or use them beyond educational purposes.
Contributor:
John Muir
Date:
[1873] Feb 3
2008
Type:
Text
Format:
Image/jpeg2000
Identifier:
muir02_1062-md-1
Source:
Original letter dimensions: 33 x 21.5 cm.
Language:
eng
Coverage:
Oakland, [Calif]
Rights:
Copyright status unknown
Some letters written to John Muir may be protected by the U.S. Copyright Law (Title 17, U.S.C.). Transmission or reproduction
of materials protected by copyright beyond that allowed by fair use requires the written permission of the copyright owners.
Responsibility for any use rests exclusively with the user.
Transcription:
Oakland, Feb. 3, 1873 . See illegible Journal Dear John: I enclose a letter from that dear old man. Dr. Stebbins, --
perhaps you already have its counterpart. I have been having such perfect days at Berkeley, coming home exhausted in body
but clarified in spirit. One night coming thus I found more of you than ever before, and have you around with me constantly
since, as I am planting my pine orchard, especially. On the highest point of the grounds, but not the driest, I have put as
tenderly and carefully as ever I put my babies into their cradles, the little groups of Abies, Picia, etc., in all thirty
species of cone trees. I hear you pitying me, but I don't care. I know the souls in abodes which I catch a glimpse of from
my hilltop who will call my work blessed when they catch the piney smells, and watch the lovely growth of these. It is a pleasure,
this making of soul bread for those who cannot make it for themselves, shared with Our Father who scattered it so abundantly
throughout his world Your big thick letter blessing had to be exchanged with McChesney for his slice and with Mrs. Moore
for hers, and now that I have it back again I will go over it crumb by crumb. Suppose it had been so. and a great sob from
the valley pines had reached me and a call had come from the soft-voiced one to find you, missing and always to be missed.
If alone I had found you I would have covered you with rocks and granite-loving flowers and ferns, and Nature would have been
all sweet and kindly as before. But if also I should have tracked you bruised and bleeding, broken limbed -- unable to defend
yourself from creatures that had tortured you, all that agony written about the place, then I should have understood many
of Ruskin's pages better than you do, better than I do. There is a great deal of morbidness in Ruskin's writings, the traces
of terrible anguish, which he has seen reflected in the tortured rocks. God has been so loving, so gentle to thee, my bairn,
you cannot realize that other side, the terrors of wrath under which in natural and spiritual things some souls abide. I think
I told you once that such have an awful attraction for me. To persuade and draw them to my heaven, I try to understand their
hells. But, glad that none are bereaved of you, dear, as I. never shall be, glad in the riches which I see unfolded in your
spirit and in all the benedictions of sky and mountain that fall into it, I must go into the world which waits for your words
and bring its message. It says, Work and Write. The last Silliman's Journal has your living glaciers bodily. I think it a
great compliment. I am going to stop writing to you that I may write of you. The big letter, under some head, must go to the
many. Some cunning work has come to me -- and I am going to write up the Rural Homes of Cal. to be illustrated with photos.
Far enough it will be from that bit of description of your 'little bed room.' Do I see you, do I hear you? It pours a flood,
wetting my pine children through and through, and you are in that nasty black place under the roof a hearing it. You had better
be here, and when the sky is washed you would not smell the smoke. I do wish you here. Irwin is married and housekeeping.
Nothing could be more suitable. Will'st say a word of congratulation? We all love you, and I am, J. C. C. Jeanne C. Carr
year 1872 supplied as this is evidently one of the letters answered in Muir's letter to Mrs. Carr of March 16 (1872) information
illegible 455