January 1835-June 1836

The Collected Letters, Volume 8


TC TO JOHN STUART MILL; 25 February 1836; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18360225-TC-JSM-01; CL 8:311-312.


Chelsea, Thursday Night [25 February 1836]—

My Dear Mill,

I can, as you conjecture, do nothing with the Litchfield Editorship; least of all at present.

Does Fonblanque know Craik,1 late of the Printing Machine?2 Since once that I heard you speak of Craik, I have happened to fall in with him; and fancy you would rate his value higher then your estimate at that time seemed to go.3 He is a man limited; but honest, and singularly healthy, and even robust, within his limits. He cannot be brilliant, but he can be decided, clear, and even emphatic. I should think him a believer with his whole heart in such policy as this present Russel-Melbourne, and open to all manner of farther light. The man is good-tempered, courageous; can take a handsome lift of anything. If I mistake not, such an offer would be excellent news to him at present: I have not heard of him for months; which means I fear that he is in straits and uncertainty.

I have been thinking of the London and Westminister Review. Why cannot you, to give all readers, a spice of an entirely new ingredient got among you, print—the Diamond Necklace? The Epicier4 was as a kind of introduction to such things. It might stand at the close of No. I; and then before No. II, I were done with my Second Volume; and could rest till I wrote you a good swinging Mirabeau!5— Why these two things have got together so indissolubly in my head, I cannot say. If it be not that I want to march in the front with you in this new campaign, and cannot ot[herwise ap]pear in the first action? I should add too [that Fra]ser has been hinting to me lately about that P[iece] (poor man, blown about by many winds); and can plead a kind of conditional promise,—which I should be too happy to escape from in this way, and so to have already DONE my last work in that Cesspool of his. Heaven counsel us all!

I hope to meet you in that Kentish village the day after tomorrow. Till then!—

T. Carlyle.