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 outsider. Carlyle frequently mentions long rides and drives with his wife; he consulted her upon all his books; and he remembered Craigenputtock as the scene of perhaps ‘their happiest days.’ But composition meant for him a solitary agony. His devotion to his labours left her to complete solitude for many hours and days; and she retained a most painful impression, possibly even exaggerated in her later confessions, of her trial during the six years (less two winters at Edinburgh and London). It is not easy, however, to see how, under the conditions, a better scheme could have been devised. It enabled Carlyle, at least, to go through his apprenticeship, and he was now to emerge as a master of his craft.

Carlyle reached London on 19 May 1834, settled in his old lodgings, and began house-hunting. He found a small old-fashioned house at 5 (now numbered 24) Cheyne Row, Chelsea, at a rent of 35l. a year. Mrs. Carlyle followed and confirmed his choice. They settled in the house (which he occupied till his death) on 10 June 1834, and he began work in tolerable spirits upon the ‘French Revolution.’ Leigh Hunt was his neighbour, and Carlyle forgave his cockneyism and queer Bohemian mode of life for his vivacity and kindliness (see ‘Memoranda’ upon Leigh Hunt in Macmillan's Magazine for July 1862). Irving paid his last visit to them about a month before his death (6 Dec. 1834). A final explanation had taken place between him and the Carlyles on their previous visit to London, revealing hopeless alienation upon religious questions. The old personal attachment survived, and in a touching article in ‘Fraser's Magazine’ (January 1835) Carlyle says that but for Irving he would never have known ‘what the communion of man with man meant,’ and thought him on the whole the best man he had ever found or hoped to find. Both Carlyles were now almost completely separated from Mrs. Montagu, and rather resented a letter written by her to Mrs. Carlyle upon Irving's death. Younger friends, however, were beginning to gather round Carlyle. Mrs. Carlyle reports that he is becoming a ‘tolerably social character,’ and losing the Craigenputtock gloom. Charles Buller visited him and took him to radical meetings, where the popular wrath gave him a grim satisfaction. Carlyle was a thorough radical in so far as the word implies a profound dissatisfaction with the existing order. He shared, or represented, an extreme form of the discontent which accumulated during the first quarter of the century against the existing institutions. He welcomed the Reform Bill agitation as the first movement towards the destruction of the old order. He looked forward, indeed, to a reconstruction of principles and institutions which was entirely opposed to the views of the Mills and their associates. Yet he held that the ‘whigs were amateurs, the radicals guild brethren’ (, ii. 90). Though limited in their philosophy, they were genuine as far as they went. Mill's respect and sympathy had touched him, and he was prepared to form some temporary alliance with the set of ‘philosophical radicals.’ He saw something of them, and calls Mill and one or two of his set the ‘reasonablest people we have;’ though disgusted by their views in regard to ‘marriage and the like’ (ib. 459). Mrs. Carlyle was at first ‘greatly taken with’ Mrs. Taylor, whose relations with Mill were now beginning and causing some anxiety to his friends and family. J. S. Mill was contemplating the ‘London Review,’ having become dissatisfied with the ‘Westminster.’ Carlyle had been told (January 1834) that W. J. Fox was to edit the new venture. He seems, however, to have had some hopes of being made editor himself, and was disappointed on finding that the other arrangement was to be carried out. It appears from Mill's ‘Autobiography’ (p. 199) that Molesworth, who provided the funds, had stipulated that Mill himself should be the real, if not the ostensible, editor; and this probably put a stop to any thought of Carlyle.

Carlyle now set to work upon the ‘French Revolution,’ suggested by Mill's correspondence, and for which Mill sent him ‘barrowfuls’ of books. His position was precarious, and he notes (February 1835) that it is now ‘some twenty-three months since I have earned one penny by the craft of literature.’ Emerson had invited him to take up lecturing in America, and for some time Carlyle occasionally leaned to this scheme. His brother John entreated him to accept a share of his earnings. Carlyle refused, though in the most affectionate terms, and at times reproaching himself for denying John the pleasure. At last he had finished his first volume, and lent the only copy to Mill. On 6 March 1835 Mill came to his house with Mrs. Taylor to make the confession that the manuscript had been accidentally destroyed. Mill awkwardly stayed for two hours. When he left, Carlyle's first words to his wife were that they must try to conceal from Mill the full extent of the injury. Five months' labour was wasted, and it was equally serious that the enthusiasm to which Carlyle always wrought himself up was gone and could hardly be recovered. He felt as if he had staked and lost his last throw. Mill was anxious to make up at least the pecuniary loss, and Carlyle ultimately accepted