CARLYLE HOUSE, CHELSEA 
with the piano-practice on the other side. Mrs. Carlyle’s diplomacy, 
however, was not altogether without effect, and there were lucid 
intervals; but in 1853 the “‘ cocks were springing up more and 
more—till it seemed as if the universe were growing into one 
huge poultry yard.” After this, her feminine tact prevailing, 
matters mended, and the poultry were all removed, ‘‘ to the last 
feather,” on a certain Saturday afternoon. Even after this, on 
more than one occasion Mrs. Carlyle was recalled home from 
a visit, to settle the cock-crowing question that at length reached a 
climax. 
In his desperation Mr. Carlyle had had some thoughts of buying 
the lease of next door, and turning out the tenants, human and 
feathered, neck and crop; but instead of measures quite so drastic 
and expensive, a soundless room was built at the top of the house 
costing one hundred and seventy pounds, the roof being, as it were, 
lifted over it. Comparative quiet was thus obtained, but the room, 
which must have been very cold in winter, was found to be too hot 
in summer, and during that season Carlyle formed the habit of 
descending to the garden, where he generally worked very com- 
fortably under the shade of a sort of tent, his books and papers 
being on a butler’s tray beside him; but on one occasion he 
caught cold, ‘ sitting in the sweep of the wind under the awning.” 
The cock-crowing nuisance reasserted itself in 1865, and caused 
Mrs. Carlyle to lie awake at night devising means to meet it. 
The neighbours fortunately were more amenable than those of 
earlier days, and they were not unwilling to oblige, particularly as 
by this time Carlyle had become famous. So the offending chan- 
ticleer was shut up in a cellar, and the hens were to evacuate the 
garden premises at Christmas—on hearing which, Carlyle clasped 
his wife in his arms and called her “ his guardian angel.” 
I have enlarged upon the topic of the fowls, because they were 
a garden grievance, but I have only touched upon the annoyances 
caused by the street-organ and piano nuisances, since, strictly 
speaking, they have no place in this book ; suffice to say, that the 
young lady next door was so obliging as to postpone her practising 
until after two in the afternoon, and that Carlyle was duly grateful. 
If we look back through the nebule of half a century to that 
little house in Chelsea, we see that certain personages detach 
themselves3from the quiet surroundings of the dwelling and the 
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