I[t] will be one piece of exertion, and you will go right ever after,
for you will have just the time you had before, to bring it out ever
after by the Friday.
You don't know the difference in getting a thing early. Your
correspondents are your authors. You don't know how an author frets to
know the world has got his contribution, when he finds it not on his
breakfast table.
ONCE in this case is EVER without a grain of trouble afterw'ds.
I won't like you or speak to you if you don't try it once.
Yours, on that condition,
C. LAMB.
[This letter is dated by Mr. Hazlitt conjecturally 1826, but I think it
more probably October, 1827, as the extracts (passages from Crowne's
"Thyestes") contributed by Lamb to Hone's _Table Book_ were printed late
in 1827.
In Lamb's next note to Hone he says how glad he was to receive the
_Table Book_ early on Friday: the result of the fable.]
LETTER 437
CHARLES LAMB TO THOMAS HOOD
[No date. ? 1827.]
Dear H.,--Emma has a favour, besides a bed, to ask of Mrs. Hood. Your
parcel was gratifying. We have all been pleased with Mrs. Leslie; I
speak it most sincerely. There is much manly sense with a feminine
expression, which is my definition of ladies' writing.
[_Mrs. Leslie and Her Grandchildren_, 1827, was the title of a book for
children by Mrs. Reynolds, mother of John Hamilton Reynolds and Mrs.
Hood, and wife of the Writing Master at Christ's Hospital.]
LETTER 438
CHARLES LAMB TO BERNARD BARTON
[No date. Late 1827.]
My dear B.B.--You will understand my silence when I tell you that my
sister, on the very eve of entering into a new house we have taken at
Enfield, was surprised with an attack of one of her sad long illnesses,
which deprive me of her society, tho' not of her domestication, for
eight or nine weeks together. I see her, but it does her no good. But
for this, we have the snuggest, most comfortable house, with every thing
most compact and desirable. Colebrook is a wilderness. The Books,
prints, etc., are come here, and the New River came down with us. The
familiar Prints, the Bust, the Milton, seem scarce to have changed their
rooms. One of her last observations was "how frightfully like this room
is to our room in Islington"--our up-stairs room, she meant. How I hope
you will come some better day, and judge of it! We have tried quiet here
for four months, and I will answer for the comfort of it enduring.
On emptying my bookshelves I found an Ulysses, which I will send to A.K.
when I go to town, for her acceptance-- unless the Book be out of print.
One likes to have one copy of every thing one does. I neglected to keep
one of "Poetry for Children," the joint production of Mary and me, and
it is not to be had for love or money. It had in the title-page "by the
author of Mrs. Lester's School." Know you any one that has it, and would
exchange it?
Strolling to Waltham Cross the other day, I hit off these lines. It is
one of the Crosses which Edw'd 1st caused to be built for his wife at
every town where her corpse rested between Northamptonsh'r and London.
A stately Cross each sad spot doth attest,
Whereat the corpse of Elinor did rest,
From Herdby fetch'd--her Spouse so honour'd her--
To sleep with royal dust at Westminster.
And, if less pompous obsequies were thine,
Duke Brunswick's daughter, princely Caroline,
Grudge not, great ghost, nor count thy funeral losses:
Thou in thy life-time had'st thy share of crosses.
My dear B.B.--My head akes with this little excursion. Pray accept 2
sides for 3 for once.
And believe me
Yours sadly C.L.
Chace side Enfield.
["An Ulysses"--Lamb's book for children, _The Adventures of Ulysses_,
1808.
_The Poetry for Children_. The known copies of the first edition of this
work can be counted on the fingers.
"A stately Cross..." These verses were printed in the _Englishman's
Magazine_ in September, 1831. Lamb's sympathies were wholly with
Caroline of Brunswick, as his epigrams in _The Champion_ show (see Vol.
IV. of this edition).]
LETTER 439
CHARLES LAMB TO BERNARD BARTON
[P.M. December 4, 1827.]
My dear B.B.--I have scarce spirits to write, yet am harass'd with not
writing. Nine weeks are completed, and Mary does not get any better. It
is perfectly exhausting. Enfield and every thing is very gloomy. But for
long experience, I should fear her ever getting well.
I feel most thankful for the spinsterly attentions of your sister. Thank
the kind "knitter in the sun."
What nonsense seems verse, when one is seriously out of hope and
spirits! I mean that at this time I have some nonsense to write, pain of
incivility. Would to the fifth heaven no coxcombess had invented Albums.
I have not had a Bijoux, nor the slightest notice from Pickering about
omitting 4 out of 5 of my things. The best thing is never to hear of
such a thing as a bookseller again, or to think there are publishers:
second hand Stationers and Old Book Stalls for me. Authorship should be
an idea of the Past.
Old Kings, old Bishops, are venerable. All present is hollow.
I cannot make a Letter. I have no straw, not a pennyworth of chaff, only
this may stop your kind importunity to know about us.
Here is a comfortable house, but no tenants. One does not make a
household.
Do not think I am quite in despair, but in addition to hope protracted,
I have a stupifying cold and obstructing headache, and the sun is dead.
I will not fail to apprise you of the revival of a Beam.
Meantime accept this, rather than think I have forgotten you all.
Best rememb
& Yours and theirs truly, C.L.
LETTER 440
CHARLES LAMB TO LEIGH HUNT
[No date. December, 1827.]
Dear H.,--I am here almost in the eleventh week of the longest illness
my sister ever had, and no symptoms of amendment. Some had begun, but
relapsed with a change of nurse. If she ever gets well, you will like my
house, and I shall be happy to show you Enfield country.
As to my head, it is perfectly at your or any one's service; either
M[e]yers' or Hazlitt's, which last (done fifteen or twenty years since)
White, of the Accountant's office, India House, has; he lives in Kentish
Town: I forget where, but is to be found in Leadenhall daily. Take your
choice. I should be proud to hang up as an alehouse sign even; or,
rather, I care not about my head or anything, but how we are to get well
again, for I am tired out.
God bless you and yours from the worst calamity.--Yours truly, C.L.
Kindest remembrances to Mrs. Hunt. H.'s is in a queer dress. M.'s would
be preferable _ad populum_.
[Leigh Hunt had asked Lamb for his portrait to accompany his _Lord Byron
and Some of His Contemporaries_. Lamb had been painted by Hazlitt in
1804, and by Henry Meyer, full size, in May, 1826, as well as by others.
Hunt chose Meyer's picture, which was beautifully engraved, for his
book, in the large paper edition. The original is now in the India
Office; a reproduction serves as the frontispiece to this volume. The
Hazlitt portrait, representing Lamb in the garb of a Venetian senator,
is now in the National Portrait Gallery; a reproduction serves as the
frontispiece to Vol. I. of this edition.]
LETTER 441
CHARLES LAMB TO WILLIAM HONE
[P.M. Dec. 15, 1827.]
My dear Hone, I read the sad accident with a careless eye, the newspaper
giving a wrong name to the poor Sufferer, but learn'd the truth from
Clarke. God send him ease, and you comfort in your thick misfortunes. I
am in a sorry state. Tis the eleventh week of the illness, and I cannot
get her well. To add to the calamity, Miss James is obliged to leave us
in a day or two. We had an Enfield Nurse for seven weeks, and just as
she seem'd mending, _she_ was call'd away. Miss J.'s coming seem'd to
put her back, and now she is going. I do not compare my sufferings to
yours, but you see the world is full of troubles. I wish I could say a
word to comfort you. You must cling to all that is left. I fear to ask
you whether the Book is to be discontinued. What a pity, when it must
have delighted so many! Let me hear about you and it, and believe me
with deepest fellow feeling
Your friend C. LAMB. Friday eveng.
[Hone's son Alfred, who had met with an accident, was a sculptor. The
_Table Book_ was to close with the year.]
LETTER 442
CHARLES LAMB TO THOMAS ALLSOP
[No date. ? Middle Dec., 1827.]
My dear Allsop--Thanks for the Birds. Your announcement puzzles me sadly
as nothing came. I send you back a word in your letter, which I can
positively make nothing [of] and therefore return to you as useless. It
means to refer to the birds, but gives me no information. They are at
the fire, however.
My sister's illness is the most obstinate she ever had. It will not go
away, and I am afraid Miss James will not be able to stay above a day or
two longer. I am desperate to think of it sometimes. 'Tis eleven weeks!
The day is sad as my prospects.
With kindest love to Mrs. A. and the children,
Yours, C.L.
No Atlas this week. Poor Hone's good boy Alfred has fractured his skull,
another son is returned "dead" from the Navy office, & his Book is going
to be given up, not having answered. What a world of troubles this is!
[The _Atlas_ was the paper which Allsop sent to Lamb every week.]
LETTER 443
CHARLES LAMB TO THOMAS ALLSOP
[December 20, 1827.]
My dear Allsop--I have writ to say to you that I hope to have a
comfortable Xmas-day with Mary, and I can not bring myself to go from
home at present. Your kind offer, and the kind consent of the young Lady
to come, we feel as we should do; pray accept all of you our kindest
thanks: at present I think a visitor (good & excellent as we remember
her to be) might a little put us out of our way. Emma is with us, and
our small house just holds us, without obliging Mary to sleep with
Becky, &c.
We are going on extremely comfortably, & shall soon be in
capacity of seeing our friends. Much weakness is left still.
With thanks and old rememb'rs, Yours, C.L.
LETTER 444
CHARLES LAMB TO EDWARD MOXON
[P.M. Dec. 22, 1827.]
My dear Moxon, I am at length able to tell you that we are all doing
well, and shall be able soon to see our friends as usual. If you will
venture a winter walk to Enfield tomorrow week (Sunday 3Oth) you will
find us much as usual; we intend a delicious quiet Christmas day, dull
and friendless, for we have not spirits for festivities. Pray
communicate the good news to the Hoods, and say I hope he is better. I
should be thankful for any of the books you mention, but I am so
apprehensive of their miscarriage by the stage,--at all events I want
none just now. Pray call and see Mrs. Lovekin, I heard she was ill; say
we shall be glad to see them some fine day after a week or so.
May I beg you to call upon Miss James, and say that we are quite well,
and that Mary hopes she will excuse her writing herself yet; she knows
that it is rather troublesome to her to write. We have rec'd her letter.
Farewell, till we meet.
Yours truly,
C. LAMB.
Enfield.
LETTER 445
CHARLES LAMB TO BERNARD BARTON
[No date. End of 1827.]
My dear B.--We are all pretty well again and comfortable, and I take a
first opportunity of sending the Adventures of Ulysses, hoping that
among us--Homer, Chapman, and _C'o_.--we shall afford you some pleasure.
I fear, it is out of print, if not, A.K. will accept it, with wishes it
were bigger; if another copy is not to be had, it reverts to me and my
heirs _for ever_. With it I send a trumpery book; to which, without my
knowledge, the Editor of the Bijoux has contributed Lucy's verses: I am
asham'd to ask her acceptance of the trash accompanying it. Adieu to
Albums--for a great while, I said when I came here, and had not been
fixed two days but my Landlord's daughter (not at the Pot house)
requested me to write in her female friend's, and in her own; if I go to
[blank space: something seems to be missing] thou art there also, O all
pervading ALBUM! All over the Leeward Islands, in Newfoundland, and the
Back Settlements, I understand there is no other reading. They haunt me.
I die of Albo-phobia!
["A trumpery book." I have not found it. Writing in the _Englishman's
Magazine_ in 1831, in a review of his own _Album Verses_, Lamb amplifies
his sentiments on albums (see Vol. I.).]
LETTER 446
CHARLES LAMB TO THOMAS ALLSOP
[January 9, 1828.]
Dear Allsop--I have been very poorly and nervous lately, but am
recovering sleep, &c. I do not invite or make engagements for particular
days; but I need not say how pleasant your dropping in _any_ Sunday
morn'g would be. Perhaps Jameson would accompany you. Pray beg him to
keep an accurate record of the warning I sent by him to old Pan, for I
dread lest he should at the 12 months' end deny the warning. The house
is his daughter's, but we took it through him, and have paid the rent to
his receipts for his daughter's. Consult J. if he thinks the warning
sufficient. I am very nervous, or have been, about the house; lost my
sleep, & expected to be ill; but slumbered gloriously last night golden
slumbers. I shall not relapse. You fright me with your inserted slips in
the most welcome Atlas. They begin to charge double for it, & call it
two sheets. How can I confute them by opening it, when a note of yours
might slip out, & we get in a hobble? When you write, write real
letters. Mary's best love & mine to Mrs. A.
Yours ever, C. LAMB.
[I cannot explain the business part of this letter.]
LETTER 447
CHARLES LAMB TO EDWARD MOXON
[P.M. (? January, Sunday) 1828.]
Dear Moxon I have to thank you for despatching so much business for me.
I am uneasy respecting the enclosed receipts which you sent me and are
dated Jan. 1827. Pray get them chang'd by Mr. Henshall to 182_8_. I have
been in a very nervous way since I saw you. Pray excuse me to the Hoods
for not answering his very pleasant letter. I am very poorly. The
"Keepsake" I hope is return'd. I sent it back by Mrs. Hazlitt on
Thursday. 'Twas blotted outside when it came. The rest I think are mine.
My heart bleeds about poor Hone, that such an agreeable book, and a Book
there seem'd no reason should not go on for ever, should be given up,
and a thing substituted which in its Nature cannot last. Don't send me
any more "Companions," for it only vexes me about the Table Book. This
is not weather to hope to see any body _to day_, but without any
particular invitations, pray consider that we are _at any time_ most
glad to see you, You (with Hunt's "Lord Byron" or Hazlitt's "Napoleon"
in your hand) or You simply with your switch &c. The night was damnable
and the morning is not too bless-able. If you get my dates changed, I
will not trouble you with business for some time. Best of all rememb'ces
to the Hoods, with a malicious congratulation on their friend Rice's
advancem't.
Yours truly C. LAMB.
[Hone's _Table Book_ ceased with 1827: it was succeeded by a reprint, in
monthly parts, of Strutt's _Sports and Pastimes_.
_The Companion_ would be the periodical started by Leigh Hunt in 1828.
"Hazlitt's 'Napoleon.'" Of this work the first two volumes appeared in
1828, and the next two in 1830.
"Their friend Rice's advancement." I cannot say to what this would
refer. Rice was Edward Rice.]
LETTER 448
CHARLES LAMB TO EDWARD MOXON
[P.M. Feb. 18, 1828.]
Dear M. I had rather thought to have seen you yesterday,
or I should have written to thank you for your attentions
in the Book way &c. Hone's address is, _22_ Belvidere Place,
Southwark. 'Tis near the Obelisk. I can only say we shall
be most glad to see you, when weather suits, and that it will
be a joyful surprisal to see the Hoods. I should write to
them, but am poorly and nervous. Emma is very proud of
her Valentine. Mary does not immediately want Books,
having a damn'd consignment of Novels in MS. from Malta:
which I wish the Mediterranean had in its guts. Believe me
yours truly C.L.
Monday.
[Emma's valentine probably came from Moxon, who, I feel sure, in spite
of Lamb's utterance in a previous letter, had not yet told his love, if
it had really budded.
"Novels in MS."--Lady Stoddart's, we may suppose (see letter above).]
LETTER 449
CHARLES LAMB TO CHARLES COWDEN CLARKE
Enfield, 25 Feb. [1828].
My dear Clarke,--You have been accumulating on me such a heap of
pleasant obligations that I feel uneasy in writing as to a Benefactor.
Your smaller contributions, the little weekly rills, are refreshments in
the Desart, but your large books were feasts. I hope Mrs. Hazlitt, to
whom I encharged it, has taken Hunt's Lord B. to the Novellos. His
picture of Literary Lordship is as pleasant as a disagreeable subject
can be made, his own poor man's Education at dear Christ's is as good
and hearty as the subject. Hazlitt's speculative episodes are capital; I
skip the Battles. But how did I deserve to have the Book? The
_Companion_ has too much of Madam Pasta. Theatricals have ceased to be
popular attractions. His walk home after the Play is as good as the best
of the old Indicators. The watchmen are emboxed in a niche of fame, save
the skaiting one that must be still fugitive. I wish I could send a
scrap for good will. But I have been most seriously unwell and nervous a
long long time. I have scarce mustered courage to begin this short note,
but conscience duns me.
I had a pleasant letter from your sister, greatly over-acknowledging my
poor sonnet. I think I should have replied to it, but tell her I think
so. Alas for sonnetting, 'tis as the nerves are; all the summer I was
dawdling among green lanes, and verses came as thick as fancies. I am
sunk winterly below prose and zero.
But I trust the vital principle is only as under snow. That I shall yet
laugh again.
I suppose the great change of place affects me, but I could not have
lived in Town, I could not bear company.
I see Novello flourishes in the Del Capo line, and dedications are not
forgotten. I read the _Atlas_. When I pitched on the Ded'n I looked for
the Broom of "_Cowden_ knows" to be harmonized, but 'twas summat of
Rossini's.
I want to hear about Hone, does he stand above water, how is his son? I
have delay'd writing to him, till it seems impossible. Break the ice for
me.
The wet ground here is intolerable, the sky above clear and delusive,
but under foot quagmires from night showers, and I am cold-footed and
moisture-abhorring as a cat; nevertheless I yesterday tramped to Waltham
Cross; perhaps the poor bit of exertion necessary to scribble this was
owing to that unusual bracing.
If I get out, I shall get stout, and then something will out --I mean
for the _Companion_--you see I rhyme insensibly.
Traditions are rife here of one Clarke a schoolmaster, and a runaway
pickle named Holmes, but much obscurity hangs over it. Is it possible
they can be any relations?
'Tis worth the research, when you can find a sunny day, with ground
firm, &c. Master Sexton is intelligent, and for half-a-crown he'll pick
you up a Father.
In truth we shall be most glad to see any of the Novellian circle,
middle of the week such as can come, or Sunday, as can't. But Spring
will burgeon out quickly, and then, we'll talk more.
You'd like to see the improvements on the Chase, the new Cross in the
market-place, the Chandler's shop from whence the rods were fetch'd.
They are raised a farthing since the spread of Education. But perhaps
you don't care to be reminded of the Holofernes' days, and nothing
remains of the old laudable profession, but the clear, firm,
impossible-to-be-mistaken schoolmaster text hand with which is
subscribed the ever-welcome name of Chas. Cowden C. Let me crowd in
both our loves to all. C.L.
Let me never be forgotten to include in my rememb'ces my good friend and
whilom correspondent Master Stephen.
How, especially, is Victoria?
I try to remember all I used to meet at Shacklewell. The little
household, cake-producing, wine-bringing out Emma--the old servant, that
didn't stay, and ought to have staid, and was always very dirty and
friendly, and Miss H., the counter-tenor with a fine voice, whose sister
married Thurtell. They all live in my mind's eye, and Mr. N.'s and
Holmes's walks with us half back after supper. Troja fuit!
["_The Companion_." Leigh Hunt's paper lasted only for seven months.
Madame Pasta, of whom too much was written, was Giudetta Pasta
(1798-1865), a singer of unusual compass, for whom Bellini wrote "La
Somnambula."
The following is the account of the Sliding Watchman in the essay,
"Walks Home by Night in Bad Weather. Watchmen":--
But the oddest of all was the _Sliding_ Watchman. Think of walking
up a street in the depth of a frosty winter, with long ice in the
gutters, and sleet over head, and then figure to yourself a sort of
bale of a man in white, coming towards you with a lantern in one
hand, and an umbrella over his head. It was the oddest mixture of
luxury and hardship, of juvenility and old age! But this looked
agreeable. Animal spirits carry everything before them; and our
invincible friend seemed a watchman for Rabelais. Time was run at
and butted by him like a goat. The slide seemed to bear him half
through the night at once; he slipped from out of his box and his
common-places at one rush of a merry thought, and seemed to say,
"Everything's in imagination;--here goes the whole weight of my
office."
"Your sister"--Mrs. Isabella Jane Towers, author of _The Children's
Fireside_, 1828, and other books for children, to whom Lamb had sent a
sonnet (see Vol. IV.).
"Novello... dedications... I read the _Atlas_." In _The Atlas_ for
February 17 was reviewed _Select Airs from Spohr's celebrated Opera of
Faust, arranged as duetts for the Pianoforte and inscribed to his friend
Charles Cowden Clarke by Vincent Novello_. Holmes was musical critic for
_The Atlas_.
"One Clarke a schoolmaster." See note to the letter to Clarke in the
summer of 1821.
"Holofernes' days"--Holofernes, the schoolmaster, in "Love's Labour's
Lost." Cowden Clarke had assisted his father.
"Master Stephen." I do not identify Stephen.
"Victoria"--Mary Victoria Novello, afterwards Mrs. Charles Cowden
Clarke.
"At Shacklewell"--the Novellos' old home. They now lived in Bedford
Street, Covent Garden.
"Whose sister married Thurtell." Thurtell, the murderer of Mr. Weare, I
suppose.
In the Boston Bibliophile edition there is also a brief note to Clarke.]
LETTER 450
CHARLES LAMB TO HENRY CRABB ROBINSON
[P.M. Feb. 26, 1828.]
My dear Robinson, It will be a very painful thing to us indeed, if you
give up coming to see us, as we fear, on account of the nearness of the
poor Lady you inquire after. It is true that on the occasion she
mentions, which was on her return from last seeing her daughter, she was
very heated and feverish, but there seems to be a great amendment in her
since, and she has within a day or two passed a quiet evening with us.
At the same time I dare not advise any thing one way or another
respecting her daughter coming to live with her. I entirely disclaim the
least opinion about it. If we named any thing before her, it was
erroneously, on the notion that _she_ was the obstacle to the plan which
had been suggested of placing her daughter in a Private Family, _which
seem'd your wish_. But I have quite done with the subject. If we can be
of any amusement to the poor Lady, without self disturbance, we will.
But come and see us after Circuit, as if she were not. You have no more
affect'te friends than C. AND M. LAMB.
["The poor Lady" was, I imagine, the widow of Antony Robinson.]
LETTER 451
CHARLES LAMB TO EDWARD MOXON
March 19th, 1828.
My dear M.--It is my firm determination to have nothing to do with
"Forget-me-Nots"--pray excuse me as civilly as you can to Mr. Hurst. I
will take care to refuse any other applications. The things which
Pickering has, if to be had again, I have promised absolutely, you know,
to poor Hood, from whom I had a melancholy epistle yesterday; besides
that, Emma has decided objections to her own and her friend's Album
verses being published; but if she gets over that, they are decidedly
Hood's.
Till we meet, farewell. Loves to Dash. C.L.
[Moxon seems to have asked Lamb for a contribution for one of Hurst's
annuals, probably the _Keepsake_.
Hood was to edit _The Gem_ for 1829.
"Dash."--Moxon seems to have been the present master of the dog.
Here should come a letter from Lamb to Edward Irving, introducing Hone,
who in later life became devout and preached at the Weigh House Chapel
in Eastcheap.]
LETTER 452
CHARLES LAMB TO BERNARD BARTON
[P.M. April 21, 1828.]