The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1884-10-25
THOMAS CARLYLE IN LONDON.
"reminiscences of Noted Men and Women
Gladstone Not of Much Account.

series of Carlyle biographical literature The
new volumes are called Thomas Carlyle: The
History of His Life in London, 1884 1881, and
are written and edited, as the previous
volumes, by Mr., James Anthony Froude Mr..
Froude devotes the first, or, rather, the intro
ductory, chapter Of the first volume to defense
of his position in connection with the publication
of the letters and diaries of Carlyle and an
other chapter, part of one, toward the end of
the second volume, to an explanation of his
course in publishing the letters of Mrs Carlyle.
Carlyle always bitterly opposed TO having
any life of himself written, for he said; '1he
world has no business with my life The world
would never know my life if it should write and
read hundred biographies of me-" How
ever, he made up his mind that,
whether he wished 1t or not, some
would write biography Of MIN after he
was dead, and, with the wisdom of the philoso-
pher, he concluded that he had better select his
| biographcr himself and put the materials in his
hands, with certain instructions which he wished
| followed. A history of the life OF Carlyle, writ
| ten on the principles of hero worship, with all
the characteristics of the man left out, with ali
the faults CLOSED over, and his virtues sung with
| resoundlng praise, would no doubt have won
much more public admiration applause for
Mr.. Froude than the truth as he has told it, but
| Mr. Froude knew that would despise
such biography more thoroughly than Carlyle
| himself, and for this reason he has given the
world the story of the man as he was in every
| day life, not only as his friends knew him, but
| as his wife knew him. He has given the other
| and nober side of his character too and
who reads this series of books carefully and
thoughtfuy will feel that he debt of
gratitude to Mr. Froude. To have been reticent
| he argues, would have implied that there was
| something to hide and taking Carlyle all in all,
| there never was a man whose conduct in life
hat hoo tha 1ifrbt Nxh1 nIlH
be thrown upon it. In the grave matters
of the law, he walked for eighty
five years, unblemished by a single
moral spot. There mo sins Of youth to be
apologized for In nothing did he ever deviate
for moment from the strictest line of integ-
rity He had his own way to make in life, and
| where he had chosen his profession he had to de-
pend on popularity for the bread which he
to eat; but although more than once he was in
sight of starvation, he would never do less than
| his very best. He never wrote an idle word, he
never wrote nor spoke any single sentence
which he did not with his whole heart believe to
be true"
1t would seem that one should find all the vir
| tues, both large and small, i'll great men, but
one does not. The greater the man the more
| petty faults he seems to have Carlyle was
about as uncomfortable a husband ever
given to Il wife, but, the other hand, Mrs
| Carlyle was not the most easy going person in
the world, and she did not always soothe the irri
! tated nerves of her philosopher husband. That
! she tried to make him comfortable in his home
her own diary and his also prove. But man who
would came into his house after it had been en-
tirely renovated and put in order for his coming.
and before he had spoken word in commenda
ton of any of the little luxuries about the place.
complain that the windows ratified in their
frames was not the easiest man to please.
In the summer of 1884 Carlyle left Craigiu-
| puttock, and its solitary moors, and removed to
Cheyne row, London. 1t was his IL ton to
make a last experiment in literature .s a pro
fession, before he sought another employment
perhaps IN another country. He had about
| Sl,OOO IN money for present needs but the flu
ture was wholly unprovlded for. He had visited
in London before, and had been so we'll received
that he felt encouraged to come there and try
his luck. The only opening that was offered him
was one in which he might have distinguished
| himself had he accepted it, but which was so
| foreign to his tastes that he refused it at once
This was position on the editorial staff of the
| London Times, but the restrictions of an editori-
al writer would have been impossible for Car
| lyle to comply with; so he put aside all
| thought of journalism, and devoted the first
years of his life in London to writing his histo-
ry of the French revolution He was thirty-nine
years old, and in the prime of his intellectual
strength. On the LIST of January. 1885, he
begins his diary On the 18th of February is the
| entry: Nevertheless, it is now some three and
twenty months since / have earned one penny
by the craft of literature. Emerson wrote him.
| inviting him to come to America to lecture, but
| the prospect of an ocean voyage did not look in
viting to him, and, as he had still some money
first winter in that city was passing away, and
his prospects were blank. The society in which
he moved gave him pleasure, and the only
recreation he had was in his work
The first volume of The French Revolution"
was finished, and he was not dissatisfied with it,
but at this time a catastrophe overlook him
which is world famous, and which, for the mo
ment, fairly broke his spirit, but, Mr.. Froude
adds 'for the moment only John Mill
then Caryle's closest and most valued friend
and he was ardently interested in the growth of
the new book He borrowed the manuscript as
it was thrown off that he might make notes for
suggestions, either for Carlyle to read
or the material for early re
view. The completed first volume was in
| his hands for this purpose when one evening
the 9th of March, 1885, AS Carlyle was sitting
with his wife after working all day like a
niger" a rap heard at the door, a hurried
step came up the stairs, and Mill entered
deadly pale, and at first unable to speak
why, Mill" said Carlyle, what ais We, mani
What is it," Staggering and supported by Car
lyle's arm, Mill gasped out to Mrs Carlyle to go
down and speak to some one who in a car
rage in the street. Both she and Carlyle
thought that thing that they both feared must
have happened, and that Mill had come to an
nounce it and to take leave of them. So genu-
| inc was their alarm that the truth, when it
| came out, was relief Carlyle led his friend
| to seat, 1.-The very picture of desperation"
| He then told in broken sentences that the manu-
| script, left out in too careless manner, after
| it had been read was, Except four or five bits
| of leaves, irrevocably annihilated' That was
| all, nothing worse, but it was ugly news enough.
land the uglier the more the meaning of it was
realized" Not only We're the fruits on months
of hard labor gone, but tho spirit i'll which he
had worked seemed to have failed too. When
Mill left the house. Carlyle turned to his wife,
so she told Mr.. Froude, and said: well, Mill,
poor fellow, is terribly cut up. We must en-
deavor to hide from him how very serious this
matter is to us" Knowing that the Carlyles
were poor, and that the loss of the manuscript
was money out of their pocket, Mill wrote Car
lyle letter. inclosing a check for f200, which
smallest sum which he thought he could offer
Carlyle returned it, but he was near getting
in financial straits, he accepted half of the
| amount IN which Mill nm oily cnnSan+a5