appearance would have been, has revived some old images; Phillips (not
the Colonel), with his few hairs bristling up at the charge of a revoke,
which he declares impossible; the old Captain's significant nod over the
right shoulder (was it not?); Mrs. Burney's determined questioning of
the score, after the game was absolutely gone to the devil, the plain
but hospitable cold boiled-beef suppers at sideboard; all which fancies,
redolent of middle age and strengthful spirits, come across us ever and
anon in this vale of deliberate senectitude, ycleped Enfield.
You imagine a deep gulf between you and us; and there is a pitiable
hiatus in _kind_ between St. James's Park and this extremity of
Middlesex. But the mere distance in turnpike roads is a trifle. The roof
of a coach swings you down in an hour or two. We have a sure hot joint
on a Sunday, and when had we better? I suppose you know that ill health
has obliged us to give up housekeeping; but we have an asylum at the
very next door--only twenty-four inches further from town, which is not
material in a country expedition--where a _table d'hôte_ is kept for us,
without trouble on our parts, and we adjourn after dinner, when one of
the old world (old friends) drops casually down among us. Come and find
us out, and seal our judicious change with your approbation, whenever
the whim bites, or the sun prompts. No need of announcement, for we are
sure to be at home.
I keep putting off the subject of my answer. In truth I am not in
spirits at present to see Mr. Murray on such a business; but pray offer
him my acknowledgments and an assurance that I should like at least one
of his propositions, as I have so much additional matter for the
SPECIMENS, as might make two volumes in all, or ONE (new edition)
omitting such better known authors as Beaumont and Fletcher, Jonson, &c.
But we are both in trouble at present. A very dear young friend of ours,
who passed her Christmas holidays here, has been taken dangerously ill
with a fever, from which she is very precariously recovering, and I
expect a summons to fetch her when she is well enough to bear the
journey from Bury. It is Emma Isola, with whom we got acquainted at our
first visit to your sister at Cambridge, and she has been an occasional
inmate with us--and of late years much more frequently--ever since.
While she is in this danger, and till she is out of it and here in a
probable way to recovery, I feel that I have no spirits for an
engagement of any kind. It has been a terrible shock to us; therefore I
beg that you will make my handsomest excuses to Mr. Murray.
Our very kindest loves to Mrs. A. and the younger A.'s.
Your unforgotten,
C. LAMB.
["Phillips." This would be Edward Phillips, who, I think, succeeded
Rickman as secretary to Abbot (afterwards Lord Colchester), the Speaker.
Colonel Erasmus Phillips we have also met. The Captain was Captain
Burney.
Mr. Murray's propositions. I presume that Murray had, through Ayrton,
suggested either the republication of the _Dramatic Specimens_, 1808, in
one volume, or in two volumes, with the Garrick Extracts added. The plan
came to nothing. Moxon published them in the two volume style in 1835.
Murray had refused Lamb's "Works" some twelve years before. For the
_Dramatic Specimens_ see Vol. IV. of my large edition.]
LETTER 507
CHARLES LAMB TO MRS. WILLIAMS
[Dated at end: March 22 (1830).]
Dear Madam,--Once more I have to return you thanks for a very kind
letter. It has gladdened us very much to hear that we may have hope to
see our young friend so soon, and through your kind nursing so well
recovered. I sincerely hope that your own health and spirits will not
have been shaken: you have had a sore trial indeed, and greatly do we
feel indebted to you for all which you have undergone. If I hear nothing
from you in the mean time, I shall secure myself a place in the
Cornwallis Coach for Monday. It will not be at all necessary that I
shall be met at Bury, as I can well find my way to the Rectory, and I
beg that you will not inconvenience yourselves by such attention.
Accordingly as I find Miss Isola able to bear the journey, I intend to
take the care of her by the same stage or by chaises perhaps, dividing
the journey; but exactly as you shall judge fit. It is our misfortune
that long journeys do not agree with my sister, who would else have
taken this care upon herself, perhaps more properly. It is quite out of
the question to rob you of the services of any of your domestics. I
cannot think of it. But if in your opinion a female attendant would be
requisite on the journey, and if you or Mr. Williams would feel _more
comfortable_ by her being in charge of two, I will most gladly engage
one of her nurses or any young person near you, that you can recommend;
for my object is to remove her in the way that shall be most
satisfactory to yourselves.
On the subject of the young people that you are interesting yourselves
about, I will have the pleasure to talk to you, when I shall see you. I
live almost out of the world and out of the sphere of being useful; but
no pains of mine shall be spared, if but a prospect opens of doing a
service. Could I do all I wish, and I indeed have grown helpless to
myself and others, it must not satisfy the arrears of obligation I owe
to Mr. Williams and yourself for all your kindness.
I beg you will turn in your mind and consider in what most comfortable
way Miss Isola can leave your house, and I will implicitly follow your
suggestions. What you have done for her can never be effaced from our
memories, and I would have you part with her in the way that would best
satisfy yourselves.
I am afraid of impertinently extending my letter, else I feel I have not
said half what I would say. So, dear madam, till I have the pleasure of
seeing you both, of whose kindness I have heard so much before, I
respectfully take my leave with our kindest love to your poor patient
and most sincere regards for the health and happiness of Mr. Williams
and yourself.
May God bless you. CH. LAMB.
Enfield, Monday, 22 March.
LETTER 508
CHARLES LAMB TO MRS. WILLIAMS
Enfield, 2 Apr., 1830.
Dear Madam
I have great pleasure in letting you know that Miss Isola has suffered
very little from fatigue on her long journey. I am ashamed to say that I
came home rather the more tired of the two. But I am a very unpractised
traveller. She has had two tolerable nights' sleeps since, and is
decidedly not worse than when we left you. I remembered the Magnesia
according to your directions, and promise that she shall be kept very
quiet, never forgetting that she is still an invalid. We found my Sister
very well in health, only a little impatient to see her; and, after a
few hysterical tears for gladness, all was comfortable again. We arrived
here from Epping between five and six. The incidents of our journey were
trifling, but you bade me tell them. We had then in the coach a rather
talkative Gentleman, but very civil, all the way, and took up a servant
maid at Stamford, going to a sick mistress. To the _latter_, a
participation in the hospitalities of your nice rusks and sandwiches
proved agreeable, as it did to my companion, who took merely a sip of
the weakest wine and water with them. The _former_ engaged me in a
discourse for full twenty miles on the probable advantages of Steam
Carriages, which being merely problematical, I bore my part in with some
credit, in spite of my totally un-engineer-like faculties. But when
somewhere about Stanstead he put an unfortunate question to me as to the
"probability of its turning out a good turnip season;" and when I, who
am still less of an agriculturist than a steam-philosopher, not knowing
a turnip from a potato ground, innocently made answer that I believed it
depended very much upon boiled legs of mutton, my unlucky reply set Miss
Isola a laughing to a degree that disturbed her tranquility for the only
moment in our journey. I am afraid my credit sank very low with my other
fellow-traveller, who had thought he had met with a _well-informed
passenger_, which is an accident so desirable in a Stage Coach. We were
rather less communicative, but still friendly, the rest of the way. How
I employed myself between Epping and Enfield the poor verses in the
front of my paper may inform you which you may please to Christen an
Acrostic in a Cross Road, and which I wish were worthier of the Lady
they refer to. But I trust you will plead my pardon to her on a subject
so delicate as a Lady's good _name_. Your candour must acknowledge that
they are written _strait_. And now dear Madam, I have left myself hardly
space to express my sense of the friendly reception I found at Fornham.
Mr. Williams will tell you that we had the pleasure of a slight meeting
with him on the road, where I could almost have told him, but that it
seemed ungracious, that such had been your hospitality, that I scarcely
missed the good Master of the Family at Fornham, though heartily I
should [have] rejoiced to have made a little longer acquaintance with
him. I will say nothing of our deeper obligations to both of you,
because I think we agreed at Fornham, that gratitude may be over-exacted
on the part of the obliging, and over-expressed on the part of the
obliged, person. My Sister and Miss Isola join in respects to Mr.
Williams and yourself, and I beg to be remembered kindly to the Miss
Hammonds and the two gentlemen whom I had the good fortune to meet at
your house. I have not forgotten the Election in which you are
interesting yourself, and the little that I can, I will do immediately.
Miss Isola will have the pleasure of writing to you next week, and we
shall hope, at your leisure, to hear of your own health, etc. I am, Dear
Madam, with great respect,
your obliged
CHARLES LAMB.
[_Added in Miss Isola's hand:_] I must just add a line to beg you will
let us hear from you, my dear Mrs. Williams. I have just received the
forwarded letter. Fornham we have talked about constantly, and I felt
quite strange at this home the first day. I will attend to all you said,
my dear Madam.
[I do not know which of Lamb's acrostics was the one in question.
Possibly this, on Mrs. Williams' youngest daughter, Louisa Clare
Williams:--
Least Daughter, but not least beloved, of _Grace_!
O frown not on a stranger, who from place
Unknown and distant these few lines hath penn'd.
I but report what thy Instructress Friend
So oft hath told us of thy gentle heart.
A pupil most affectionate thou art,
Careful to learn what elder years impart.
_Louisa_--_Clare_--by which name shall I call thee?
A prettier pair of names sure ne'er was found,
Resembling thy own sweetness in sweet sound.
Ever calm peace and innocence befal thee!
See Vol. IV. of this edition.]
LETTER 509
CHARLES LAMB TO MRS. WILLIAMS
Enfield, Good Friday [April 9, 1830].
P.S.--I am the worst folder-up of a letter in the world, except certain
Hottentots, in the land of Caffre, who never fold up their letters at
all, writing very badly upon skins, &c.
Dear Madam,--I do assure you that your verses gratified me very much,
and my sister is quite _proud_ of them. For the first time in my life I
congratulated myself upon the shortness and meanness of my name. Had it
been Schwartzenberg or Esterhazy, it would have put you to some puzzle.
I am afraid I shall sicken you of acrostics; but this last was written
_to order_. I beg you to have inserted in your county paper something
like this advertisement. "To the nobility, gentry, and others, about
Bury.--C. Lamb respectfully informs his friends and the public in
general, that he is leaving off business in the acrostic line, as he is
going into an entirely new line. Rebuses and charades done as usual, and
upon the old terms. Also, Epitaphs to suit the memory of any person
deceased." I thought I had adroitly escaped the rather unpliable name of
"Williams," curtailing your poor daughters to their proper surnames; but
it seems you would not let me off so easily. If these trifles amuse you,
I am paid. Tho really 'tis an operation too much like--"A, apple-pye; B,
bit it." To make amends, I request leave to lend you the "Excursion,"
and to recommend, in particular, the "Churchyard Stories," in the
seventh book, I think. They will strengthen the tone of your mind after
its weak diet on acrostics. Miss Isola is writing, and will tell you
that we are going on very comfortably. Her sister is just come. She
blames my last verses, as being more written on _Mr._ Williams than on
yourself; but how should I have parted whom a Superior Power has brought
together? I beg you will jointly accept of our best respects, and pardon
your obsequious if not troublesome Correspondent, C.L.
[Mr. Cecil Turner, a grandson of Mrs. Williams, tells me that her
acrostic on Lamb ran thus:--
TO CHARLES LAMB
_Answer to Acrostics on the Names of Two Friends_
Charmed with the lines thy hand has sent,
Honour I feel the compliment,
Amongst thy products that have won the ear,
Ranged in thy verse two friends most dear.
Lay not thy winning pen away,
Each line thou writest we bid thee stay,
Still ask to charm us with another lay.
Long liked, long lived by public Fame
A friend to misery, whate'er its claim.
Marvel I must if e'er we find
Bestowed by heaven a kindlier mind.
The two friends were probably Edward Hogg and Cecilia Catherine Lawton,
on whose names Lamb wrote acrostics (see Vol. IV.).
This was Lamb's effort:--
Go little Poem, and present
Respectful terms of compliment;
A gentle lady bids thee speak!
Courteous is she, tho' thou be weak--
Evoke from Heaven as thick as manna
Joy after joy on Grace Joanna:
On Fornham's Glebe and Pasture land
A blessing pray. Long, long may stand,
Not touched by Time, the Rectory blithe;
No grudging churl dispute his Tithe;
At Easter be the offerings due
With cheerful spirit paid; each pew
In decent order filled; no noise
Loud intervene to drown the voice,
Learning, or wisdom of the Teacher;
Impressive be the Sacred Preacher,
And strict his notes on holy page;
May young and old from age to age
Salute, and still point out, "The good man's Parsonage!"]
LETTER 510
CHARLES LAMB TO JAMES GILLMAN
[? Early Spring, 1830.]
Dear Gillman,--Pray do you, or S.T.C., immediately write to say you have
received back the golden works of the dear, fine, silly old angel, which
I part from, bleeding, and to say how the Winter has used you all.
It is our intention soon, weather permitting, to come over for a day at
Highgate; for beds we will trust to the Gate-House, should you be full:
tell me if we may come casually, for in this change of climate there is
no naming a day for walking. With best loves to Mrs. Gillman, &c.
Yours, mopish, but in health,
C. LAMB.
I shall be uneasy till I hear of Fuller's safe arrival.
[See letter to Gillman above. The "dear, fine, silly old angel" was
Thomas Fuller.]
LETTER 511
CHARLES LAMB TO JACOB VALE ASBURY
[? April, 1830.]
Dear Sir--Some draughts and boluses have been brought here which we
conjecture were meant for the young lady whom you saw this morning,
though they are labelled for
MISS ISOLA LAMB.
No such person is known on the Chase Side, and she is fearful of taking
medicines which may have been made up for another patient. She begs me
to say that she was born an _Isola_ and christened _Emma_. Moreover that
she is Italian by birth, and that her ancestors were from Isola Bella
(Fair Island) in the kingdom of Naples. She has never changed her name
and rather mournfully adds that she has no prospect at present of doing
so. She is literally I. SOLA, or single, at present. Therefore she begs
that the obnoxious monosyllable may be omitted on future Phials,--an
innocent syllable enough, you'll say, but she has no claim to it. It is
the bitterest pill of the seven you have sent her. When a lady loses her
good _name_, what is to become of her? Well she must swallow it as well
as she can, but begs the dose may not be repeated.
Yours faithfully,
CHARLES LAMB (not Isola).
[Asbury was a doctor at Enfield. I append another letter to him, without
date:--]
LETTER 512
CHARLES LAMB TO JACOB VALE ASBURY
Dear Sir, It is an observation of a wise man that "moderation is best in
all things." I cannot agree with him "in liquor." There is a smoothness
and oiliness in wine that makes it go down by a natural channel, which I
am positive was made for that descending. Else, why does not wine choke
us? could Nature have made that sloping lane, not to facilitate the
down-going? She does nothing in vain. You know that better than I. You
know how often she has helped you at a dead lift, and how much better
entitled she is to a fee than yourself sometimes, when you carry off the
credit. Still there is something due to manners and customs, and I
should apologise to you and Mrs. Asbury for being absolutely carried
home upon a man's shoulders thro' Silver Street, up Parson's Lane, by
the Chapels (which might have taught me better), and then to be
deposited like a dead log at Gaffar Westwood's, who it seems does not
"insure" against intoxication. Not that the mode of conveyance is
objectionable. On the contrary, it is more easy than a one-horse chaise.
Ariel in the "Tempest" says
"On a Bat's back do I fly,
After sunset merrily."
Now I take it that Ariel must sometimes have stayed out late of nights.
Indeed, he pretends that "where the bee sucks, there lurks he," as much
as to say that his suction is as innocent as that little innocent (but
damnably stinging when he is provok'd) winged creature. But I take it,
that Ariel was fond of metheglin, of which the Bees are notorious
Brewers. But then you will say: What a shocking sight to see a
middle-aged gentleman-and-a-half riding upon a Gentleman's back up
Parson's Lane at midnight. Exactly the time for that sort of conveyance,
when nobody can see him, nobody but Heaven and his own conscience; now
Heaven makes fools, and don't expect much from her own creation; and as
for conscience, She and I have long since come to a compromise. I have
given up false modesty, and she allows me to abate a little of the true.
I like to be liked, but I don't care about being respected. I don't
respect myself. But, as I was saying, I thought he would have let me
down just as we got to Lieutenant Barker's Coal-shed (or emporium) but
by a cunning jerk I eased myself, and righted my posture. I protest, I
thought myself in a palanquin, and never felt myself so grandly carried.
It was a slave under me. There was I, all but my reason. And what is
reason? and what is the loss of it? and how often in a day do we do
without it, just as well? Reason is only counting, two and two makes
four. And if on my passage home, I thought it made five, what matter?
Two and two will just make four, as it always did, before I took the
finishing glass that did my business. My sister has begged me to write
an apology to Mrs. A. and you for disgracing your party; now it does
seem to me, that I rather honoured your party, for every one that was
not drunk (and one or two of the ladies, I am sure, were not) must have
been set off greatly in the contrast to me. I was the scapegoat. The
soberer they seemed. By the way is magnesia good on these occasions?
_iii_ pol: med: sum: ante noct: in rub: can:. I am no licentiate, but
know enough of simples to beg you to send me a draught after this model.
But still you'll say (or the men and maids at your house will say) that
it is not a seemly sight for an old gentleman to go home pick-a-back.
Well, may be it is not. But I have never studied grace. I take it to be
a mere superficial accomplishment. I regard more the internal
acquisitions. The great object after supper is to get home, and whether
that is obtained in a horizontal posture or perpendicular (as foolish
men and apes affect for dignity) I think is little to the purpose. The
end is always greater than the means. Here I am, able to compose a
sensible rational apology, and what signifies how I got here? I have
just sense enough to remember I was very happy last night, and to thank
our kind host and hostess, and that's sense enough, I hope.
CHARLES LAMB.
N.B.--What is good for a desperate head-ache? Why, Patience, and a
determination not to mind being miserable all day long. And that I have
made my mind up to.
So, here goes. It is better than not being alive at all, which I might
have been, had your man toppled me down at Lieut. Barker's Coal-shed. My
sister sends her sober compliments to Mrs. A. She is not much the worse.
Yours truly,
C. LAMB.
["Ariel." In two other of his letters, Lamb confesses similarly to a
similar escapade. And in his _Elia_ essay "Rejoicings on the New Year's
Coming of Age," he sends Ash Wednesday home in the same manner.
Lieut. John Barker, R.N., was a local character, a coal merchant and a
man with a grievance. He had thirteen children, some of whose names
probably greatly amused Lamb--John Thomas, William Charles, Frederick
Alexander, Marius Collins, Caius Marcius, Marcus Aurelius Antonius,
Coriolanus Aurelius, Horatius Tertius Decimus, Elizabeth Mary,
Concordia, Lousia Clarissa, Caroline Maria Quiroja and Volumnia
Hortensia.]
LETTER 513
CHARLES LAMB TO MRS. WILLIAMS
Enfield, Tuesday [April 21, 1830].
Dear Madam,--I have ventured upon some lines, which combine my old
acrostic talent (which you first found out) with my new profession of
epitaph-monger. As you did not please to say, when you would die, I have
left a blank space for the date. May kind heaven be a long time in
filling it up. At least you cannot say that these lines are not about
you, though not much to the purpose. We were very sorry to hear that you
have not been very well, and hope that a little excursion may revive
you. Miss Isola is thankful for her added day; but I verily think she
longs to see her young friends once more, and will regret less than ever
the end of her holydays. She cannot be going on more quietly than she is
doing here, and you will perceive amendment.
I hope all her little commissions will all be brought home to your
satisfaction. When she returns, we purpose seeing her to Epping on her
journey. We have had our proportion of fine weather and some pleasant
walks, and she is stronger, her appetite good, but less wolfish than at
first, which we hold a good sign. I hope Mr. Wing will approve of its
abatement. She desires her very kindest respects to Mr. Williams and
yourself, and wishes to rejoin you. My sister and myself join in
respect, and pray tell Mr. Donne, with our compliments, that we shall be
disappointed, if we do not see him. This letter being very neatly
written, I am very unwilling that Emma should club any of her
disproportionate scrawl to deface it.
Your obliged servant,
C. LAMB.
[Addressed to "Mrs. Williams, W.B. Donne, Esq., Matteshall, East
Dereham, Norfolk."
Mr. Wing was probably Miss Isola's doctor. Mr. Donne was William Bodham
Donne (1807-1882), the friend of Edward FitzGerald, and Examiner of
Plays.
This was Lamb's acrostic-epitaph on Mrs. Williams:--
Grace Joanna here doth lie:
Reader, wonder not that I
Ante-date her hour of rest.
Can I thwart her wish exprest,
Ev'n unseemly though the laugh
Jesting with an Epitaph?
On her bones the turf lie lightly,
And her rise again be brightly!
No dark stain be found upon her--
No, there will not, on mine honour--
Answer that at least I can.
Would that I, thrice happy man,
In as spotless garb might rise,
Light as she will climb the skies,
Leaving the dull earth behind,
In a car more swift than wind.
All her errors, all her failings,
(Many they were not) and ailings,
Sleep secure from Envy's railings.
Here should come an undated note from Lamb to Basil Montagu, in which
Lamb asks for help for Hone in his Coffee-House. "If you can help a
worthy man you will have _two worthy men_ obliged to you." Hone, having
fallen upon bad times, Lamb helped in the scheme to establish him in the
Grasshopper Coffee-House, at 13 Gracechurch Street (see next letter).]
LETTER 514
CHARLES LAMB TO ROBERT SOUTHEY
May 10, 1830.