THOMAS CARLYLE. 371 



spend the winter in Cheyne Eow with all its associations 

 was more than he could be expected to bear. But what 

 was to be done? A loving answer to this question 

 came to him in his hour of need. The first Lady 

 Ashburton had been Carlyle's friend, and the second, 

 with a more fervent nature, was no less so. She had 

 taken at Mentone a beautiful villa, the Villa Madonna, 

 and thither she pressed Carlyle to come. I saw him 

 frequently at this mournful time, and talked much 

 with him about his plans. The Mentone scheme he 

 deemed at first clearly impracticable; but the more it 

 was thought over, the mere evident it became that it 

 was the only really practicable course open to him. 

 As the gloom of December set in, the necessity of get- 

 ting him away from London became more and more 

 apparent. Counting the days at my disposal, I found 

 that it was within my power to convey him to Mentone, 

 deposit him there, and return in time for my personal 

 duties in the Eoyal Institution. Lectures would begin, 

 but men were there whose friendship had never failed 

 me, and on whom I could rely that all things would be 

 well conducted during my absence. Seeing the pos- 

 sibility, my action was prompt. I offered to take 

 charge of him, cutting short hesitation and discussion 

 by pointing to the inexorable march of time. Over the 

 packing of his pipes we had a wrangle. It was clearly 

 evident that his mode of packing would bring the 

 " churchwardens " to grief, and I emphatically told him 

 so. But he would have his way. He knew how to 

 pack pipes, and would be answerable for their safety. 

 Out of fifty thus packed at Cheyne Eow, three only 

 reached Mentone unbroken. I afterwards enjoyed the 

 triumph of sending him fifty without a single fracture. 

 But I anticipate. Eime was in the air, sucking the 

 vital warmth out of every living thing when we started 



