contributed to the September number his "Recollections of a Late Royal
Academician," George Dawe (see Vol. I. of this edition), under the
general title "Peter's Net." Daniels may have been Thomas or William
Daniell, both landscape painters. Westall may have been Richard Westall,
the historical painter, or William Westall, the topographical painter.
H. Rogers was Henry Rogers, brother of the poet.
"The _Athenaeum_ has been hoaxed." The exquisite poetry was FitzGerald's
"Meadows in Spring" (see next letter).]
LETTER 535
CHARLES LAMB TO EDWARD MOXON
[P.M. Aug. 5, 1831.]
Send, or bring me, Hone's No. for August.
Hunt is a fool, and his critics----The anecdotes of E. and of G.D. are
substantially true. What does Elia (or Peter) care for dates?
That _is_ the poem I mean. I do not know who wrote it, but is in Hone's
book as far back as April.
Tis a poem I envy--_that_ & Montgomery's Last Man (nothing else of his).
I envy the writers, because I feel I could have done something like it.
S---- is a coxcomb. W---- is a ---- & a great Poet. L.
[Hone was now editing his _Year Book_. Under the date April 30 had
appeared Edward FitzGerald's poem, "The Meadows in Spring," with the
following introduction:--
These verses are in the old style; rather homely in expression; but I
honestly profess to stick more to the simplicity of the old poets than
the moderns, and to love the philosophical good humor of our old writers
more than the sickly melancholy of the Byronian wits. If my verses be
not good, they are good humored, and that is something.
The editor of _The Athenaeum_, in reprinting the poem, suggested
delicately that it was by Lamb. There is no such poem by James
Montgomery as "The Last Man." Campbell wrote a "Last Man," and so did
Hood, but I agree with Canon Ainger that what Lamb meant was
Montgomery's "Common Lot." I give the two poems in the Appendix as
illustrations of what Lamb envied.
"Hunt is a fool." In _The Tatler_ for August 1 Leigh Hunt had quoted
much of Lamb's essay on Elliston. I do not, however, find any adverse
criticism.
"E. and G.D." Lamb had written in the August number of _The Englishman's
Magazine_ his "Reminiscences of Elliston." Lamb's article on George Dawe
did not appear till the September number, but perhaps Moxon already had
the copy.]
LETTER 536
CHARLES LAMB TO EDWARD MOXON
[P.M. Sept. 5, 1831.]
Dear M., Your Letter's contents pleased me. I am only afraid of taxing
you, yet I want a stimulus, or I think I should drag sadly. I shall keep
the monies in trust till I see you fairly over the next 1 January. Then
I shall look upon 'em as earned. Colburn shall be written to. No part of
yours gave me more pleasure (no, not the £,10, tho' you may grin) than
that you will revisit old Enfield, which I hope will be always a
pleasant idea to you.
Yours very faithfully
C.L.
[The letter's contents was presumably payment for Lamb's contribution to
_The Englishman's Magazine_.]
LETTER 537
CHARLES LAMB TO WILLIAM HAZLITT, JR.
[P.M. Sept. 13, 1831.]
Dear Wm--We have a sick house, Mrs. Westw'ds daughter in a fever, &
Grandaughter in the meazles, & it is better to see no company just now,
but in a week or two we shall be very glad to see you; come at a hazard
then, on a week day if you can, because Sundays are stuffd up with
friends on both parts of this great ill-mix'd family. Your second
letter, dated 3d Sept'r, came not till Sund'y & we staid at home in
even'g in expectation of seeing you. I have turned & twisted what you
ask'd me to do in my head, & am obliged to say I can not undertake
it--but as a composition for declining it, will you accept some verses
which I meditate to be addrest to you on your father, & prefixable to
your Life? Write me word that I may have 'em ready against I see you
some 10 days hence, when I calculate the House will be uninfected. Send
your mother's address.
If you are likely to be again at Cheshunt before that time, on second
thoughts, drop in here, & consult--
Yours,
C.L.
Not a line is yet written--so say, if I shall do 'em.
[This is the only letter extant to the younger Hazlitt, who was then
nearly twenty. William Hazlitt, the essayist, had died September 18,
1830. Lamb was at his bedside. The memoir of him, by his son, was
prefixed to the _Literary Remains_ in 1836, but no verses by Lamb
accompanied it. When this letter was last sold at Sotheby's in June,
1902, a copy of verses was attached beginning--
There lives at Winterslow a man of such
Rare talents and deep learning ...
in the handwriting of William Hazlitt. They bear more traces of being
Mary Lamb's work than her brother's.]
LETTER 538
CHARLES LAMB TO EDWARD MOXON
[P.M. October 24, 1831.]
To address an abdicated monarch is a nice point of breeding. To give him
his lost titles is to mock him; to withhold 'em is to wound him. But his
Minister who falls with him may be gracefully sympathetic. I do honestly
feel for your diminution of honors, and regret even the pleasing cares
which are part and parcel of greatness. Your magnanimous submission, and
the cheerful tone of your renunciation, in a Letter which, without
flattery, would have made an "ARTICLE," and which, rarely as I keep
letters, shall be preserved, comfort me a little. Will it please, or
plague you, to say that when your Parcel came I damned it, for my pen
was warming in my hand at a ludicrous description of a Landscape of an
R.A., which I calculated upon sending you to morrow, the last day you
gave me. Now any one calling in, or a letter coming, puts an end to my
writing for the day. Little did I think that the mandate had gone out,
so destructive to my occupation, so relieving to the apprehensions of
the whole body of R.A.'s. So you see I had not quitted the ship while a
plank was remaining.
To drop metaphors, I am sure you have done wisely. The
very spirit of your epistle speaks that you have a weight off
your mind. I have one on mine. The cash in hand, which,
as * * * * * * less truly says, burns in my pocket. I feel queer
at returning it (who does not?). You feel awkward at re-taking
it (who ought not?) Is there no middle way of adjusting this
fine embarrassment? I think I have hit upon a medium to
skin the sore place over, if not quite to heal it. You hinted
that there might be something under £10 by and by accruing
to me _Devil's Money_. You are sanguine--say £7: 10s.--that
I entirely renounce and abjure all future interest in, I insist
upon it, and "by Him I will not name" I won't touch a penny
of it. That will split your Loss one half--and leave me conscientious
possessor of what I hold. Less than your assent to this, no proposal
will I accept of.
The Rev. Mr.------, whose name you have left illegible (is it
_Sea-gull_?) never sent me any book on Christ's Hospit. by which I could
dream that I was indebted to him for a dedication. Did G.D. send his
penny tract to me to convert me to Unitarianism? Dear blundering soul!
why I am as old a one-Goddite as himself. Or did he think his cheap
publication would bring over the Methodists over the way here? However
I'll give it to the pew-opener (in whom I have a little interest,) to
hand over to the Clerk, whose wife she sometimes drinks tea with, for
him to lay before the Deacon, who exchanges the civility of the hat with
him, for him to transmit to the Minister, who shakes hand with him out
of Chapel, and he, in all odds, will ---- with it.
I wish very much to see you. I leave it to you to come how you will. We
shall be very glad (we need not repeat) to see your sister, or sisters,
with you--but for you individually I will just hint that a dropping in
to Tea unlook'd for about 5, stopping bread-n-cheese and gin-and-water,
is worth a thousand Sundays. I am naturally miserable on a Sunday, but a
week day evening and Supper is like old times. Set out _now_, and give
no time to deliberation--
_P.S_.--The 2d vol. of Elia is delightful(-ly bound, I mean) and quite
cheap. Why, man, 'tis a Unique--
If I write much more I shall expand into an article, which I cannot
afford to let you have so cheap.
By the by, to shew the perverseness of human will--while I thought I
_must_ furnish one of those accursed things monthly, it seemed a Labour
above Hercules's "Twelve" in a year, which were evidently Monthly
Contributions. Now I am emancipated, I feel as if I had a thousand
Essays swelling within me. False feelings both.
I have lost Mr. Aitken's Town address--do you know it? Is he there?
Your ex-Lampoonist, or Lamb-punnist--from Enfield, Oct. 24, or "last day
but one for receiving articles that can be inserted."
[Moxon, finding _The Englishman's Magazine_ unsuccessful, gave it up
suddenly after the October number, the third under his direction. His
letter to Lamb on the subject is not now forthcoming. The ludicrous
description of a landscape by an R.A. is, I imagine, that of the garden
of the Hesperides in the _Elia_ essay on the "Barrenness of the
Imaginative Faculty in the Production of Modern Art" (see Vol. II.).
Probably Turner's "Garden of the Hesperides" in the National Gallery.
By "Devil's Money" Lamb means money due for _Satan in
Search of a Wife_. I do not identify * * * * * *.
"The Rev. Mr. ----." I have not identified this gentleman.
"G.D.... penny tract." I have not found Dyer's tract.
"Mr. Aitken." John Aitken, editor of _Constable's Miscellany_, whom
Moxon would have known at Hurst & Co.'s.]
LETTER 539
CHARLES LAMB TO EDWARD MOXON
[P.M. Dec. 15, 1831.]
Dear M. +S. I know, has an aversion, amounting almost to horror, of H.
He _would not_ lend his name. The other I might wring a guinea from, but
he is _very properly_ shy of his guineas. It would be improper in me to
apply to him, and impertinent to the other. I hope this will satisfy
you, but don't give my reason to H.'s friend, simply, say I decline it.
I am very much obliged to you for thinking of Gary. Put me down seven
shillings (wasn't it?) in your books, and I set you down for more in my
good ones. One Copy will go down to immortality _now_, the more lasting
as the less its leaves are disturbed. This Letter will cost you 3d.--but
I did not like to be silent on the above +.
Nothing with my name will sell, a blast is upon it. Do not think of such
a thing, unless ever you become rich enough to speculate.
Being praised, and being bought, are different things to a Book. Fancy
books sell from fashion, not from the number of their real likers. Do
not come at so long intervals. Here we are sure to be.
[S. and H. I do not identify--perhaps Southey and Hunt. Hunt's need of
guineas was chronic. The reference to Gary is not very clear. Lamb seems
to suggest that he is giving Gary a copy of a book that Gary will not
read, but will preserve.
"Nothing with my name." Moxon may perhaps have just suggested publishing
a second series of _Elia_.]
LETTER 540
CHARLES LAMB TO JOSEPH HUME'S DAUGHTERS
[No date. 1832.]
Many thanks for the wrap-rascal, but how delicate the insinuating in,
into the pocket, of that 3-1/2d., in paper too! Who was it? Amelia,
Caroline, Julia, Augusta, or "Scots who have"?
As a set-off to the very handsome present, which I shall lay out in a
pot of ale certainly to _her_ health, I have paid sixpence for the mend
of two button-holes of the coat now return'd. She shall not have to say,
"I don't care a button for her."
Adieu, très aimables!
Buttons 6d.
Gift 3-1/2
Due from ---- 2-1/2
which pray accept ... from your foolish coatforgetting
C.L.
[Joseph Hume we have met. Mr. Hazlitt writes: "Amelia Hume became Mrs.
Bennett, Julia Mrs. Todhunter. The latter personally informed me in 1888
that her Aunt Augusta perfectly recollected all the circumstances [of
the present note]. The incident seems to have taken place at the
residence of Mr. Hume, in Percy Street, Bloomsbury, and it was Amelia
who found the three-pence-halfpenny in the coat which Lamb left behind
him, and who repaired the button-holes. The sister who is described as
'Scots wha ha'e' was Louisa Hume; it was a favourite song with her."
Mrs. Todhunter supplied the date, 1832.]
LETTER 541
CHARLES LAMB TO CHARLES WENTWORTH DILKE
[P.M. March 5, 1832.]
D'r Sir, My friend Aders, a German merchant, German born, has opend to
the public at the Suffolk St. Gallery his glorious Collection of old
Dutch and German Pictures. Pray see them. You have only to name my name,
and have a ticket--if you have not received one already. You will
possibly notice 'em, and might lug in the inclosed, which I wrote for
Hone's Year Book, and has appear'd only there, when the Pictures were at
home in Euston Sq. The fault of this matchless set of pictures is, _the
admitting a few Italian pictures with 'em_, which I would turn out to
make the Collection unique and pure. Those old Albert Durers have not
had their fame. I have tried to illustrate 'em. If you print my verses,
a Copy, please, for me.
[The first letter to Charles Wentworth Dilke (1789-1864), a friend of
Keats, Hunt and Hood, editor of Dodsley and at this time editor of _The
Athenaeum_. Lamb's verses ran thus:--
TO C. ADERS, ESQ.
_On his Collection of Paintings by the old German Masters_
Friendliest of men, Aders, I never come
Within the precincts of this sacred Room,
But I am struck with a religious fear,
Which says "Let no profane eye enter here."
With imagery from Heav'n the walls are clothed,
Making the things of Time seem vile and loathed.
Spare Saints, whose bodies seem sustain'd by Love
With Martyrs old in meek procession move.
Here kneels a weeping Magdalen, less bright
To human sense for her blurr'd cheeks; in sight
Of eyes, new-touch'd by Heaven, more winning fair
Than when her beauty was her only care.
A Hermit here strange mysteries doth unlock
In desart sole, his knees worn by the rock.
There Angel harps are sounding, while below
Palm-bearing Virgins in white order go.
Madonnas, varied with so chaste design.
While all are different, each seems genuine,
And hers the only Jesus: hard outline,
And rigid form, by Dürer's hand subdued
To matchless grace, and sacro-sanctitude;
Dürer, who makes thy slighted Germany
Vie with the praise of paint-proud Italy.
Whoever enter'st here, no more presume
To name a Parlour, or a Drawing Room;
But, bending lowly to each, holy Story,
Make this thy Chapel, and thine Oratory.]
LETTER 542
CHARLES LAMB TO S.T. COLERIDGE
April 14th, 1832.
My dear Coleridge,--Not an unkind thought has passed in my brain about
you. But I have been wofully neglectful of you, so that I do not deserve
to announce to you, that if I do not hear from you before then, I will
set out on Wednesday morning to take you by the hand. I would do it this
moment, but an unexpected visit might flurry you. I shall take silence
for acquiescence, and come. I am glad you could write so long a letter.
Old loves to, and hope of kind looks from, the Gilmans, when I come.
Yours _semper idem_ C.L.
If you ever thought an offence, much more wrote it, against me, it must
have been in the times of Noah; and the great waters swept it away.
Mary's most kind love, and maybe a wrong prophet of your bodings!--here
she is crying for mere love over your letter. I wring out less, but not
sincerer, showers.
My direction is simply, Enfield.
[Mr. Dykes Campbell's comment upon this note is that it was written to
remove some mistaken sick-man's fancy.]
LETTER 543
CHARLES LAMB TO JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES
[No date. ? April, 1832.]
Dear Kn.--I will not see London again without seeing your pleasant Play.
In meanwhile, pray, send three or four orders to a Lady who can't afford
to pay: Miss James, No. 1 Grove Road, Lisson Grove, Paddington, a day or
two before--and come and see us some _Evening_ with my hitherto
uncorrupted and honest bookseller
Moxon. C. LAMB.
[I have dated this April, 1832, because it may refer to Knowles' play
"The Hunchback," produced April 5, 1832. It might also possibly refer to
"The Wife" of a year later, but I think not.]
LETTER 544
CHARLES LAMB TO JOHN FORSTER
[? Late April, 1832.]
One day in my life
Do come. C.L.
I have placed poor Mary at Edmonton--
I shall be very glad to see the Hunch Back and Straitback the 1st Even'g
they can come. I am very poorly indeed. I have been cruelly thrown out.
Come and don't let me drink too much. I drank more yesterday than I ever
did any one day in my life.
C.L.
Do come.
Cannot your Sister come and take a half bed--or a whole one? Which,
alas, we have to spare.
[Mary Lamb would have been taken to Walden House, Edmonton, where mental
patients were received. A year later the Lambs moved there altogether.
The Hunchback would be Knowles; the Straitback I do not recognise.
John Forster (1812-1876), whom we now meet for the first time, one of
Lamb's last new friends, was the author, later, of _Lives of the
Statesmen of the Commonwealth_ and the Lives also of Goldsmith and of
Landor and Dickens, whose close friend he was. His _Life of Pym_, which
was in Vol. II. of the _Statesman_, did not appear until 1837, but I
assume that he had ridden the hobby for some years.]
LETTER 545
CHARLES LAMB TO EDWARD MOXON (?)
[P.M. June 1, 1832.]
I am a little more than half alive--
I was more than half dead--
the Ladies are very agreeable--
I flatter myself I am less than disagreeable--
Convey this to Mr. Forster--
Whom, with you, I shall just be able to see some 10 days
hence and believe me ever yours C.L.
I take Forster's name to be John,
But you know whom I mean,
the Pym-praiser
not pimp-raiser.
[This letter possibly is not to Moxon at all, as the wrapper (on which
is the postmark) may belong to another letter.]
LETTER 546
CHARLES LAMB TO THOMAS ALLSOP
July 2, 1832.
AT midsummer or soon after (I will let you know the previous day), I
will take a day with you in the purlieus of my old haunts. No offence
has been taken, any more than meant. My house is full at present, but
empty of its chief pride. She is dead to me for many months. But when I
see you, then I will say, Come and see me. With undiminished friendship
to you both,
Your faithful but queer C.L.
How you frighted me! Never write again, "Coleridge is dead," at the end
of a line, and tamely come in with "to his friends" at the beginning of
another. Love is quicker, and fear from love, than the transition ocular
from Line to Line.
LETTER 547
CHARLES LAMB TO WALTER WILSON
[Dated at end: Aug., 1832.]
My dear Wilson, I cannot let my old friend Mrs. Hazlitt (Sister in Law
to poor Wm. Hazlitt) leave Enfield, without endeavouring to introduce
her to you, and to Mrs. Wilson. Her daughter has a School in your
neighbourhood, and for her talents and by [for] her merits I can
_answer_. If it lies in your power to be useful to them in any way, the
obligation to your old office-fellow will be great. I have not forgotten
Mrs. Wilson's Album, and if you, or she, will be the means of procuring
but one pupil for Miss Hazlitt, I will rub up my poor poetic faculty to
the best. But you and she will one day, I hope, bring the Album with you
to Enfield-- Poor Mary is ill, or would send her love--
Yours very Truly
C. LAMB.
News.--Collet is dead, Du Puy is dead. I am _not_.--Hone! is turned
Believer in Irving and his unknown Tongues.
In the name of dear Defoe which alone might be a Bond of Union between
us, Adieu!
[Mrs. Hazlitt was the wife of John Hazlitt, the miniature painter, who
died in 1837. I have been unable to trace her daughter's history.
Collet I do not recognise. Probably an old fellow-clerk at the India
House, as was Du Puy. It is true that Hone was converted by Irving, and
became himself a preacher.]
LETTER 548
CHARLES LAMB TO HENRY CRABB ROBINSON
[No date. ? Early October, 1832.]
For Lander's kindness I have just esteem. I shall tip him a Letter, when
you tell me how to address him.
Give Emma's kindest regrets that I could not entice her good friend,
your Nephew, here.
Her warmest love to the Bury Robinsons--our all three to
H. Crab. C.L.
[Mr. Macdonald's transcript adds: "Accompanying copy of Lander's verses
to Emma Isola, and others, contributed to Miss Wordsworth's Album, and
poem written at Wast-water. C.L."
The Bury Robinsons were Crabb Robinson's brother and other relatives,
whom Miss Isola had met when at Fornham.]
LETTER 549
CHARLES LAMB TO WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR
[No date. October, 1832.]
Dear Sir, pray accept a little volume. 'Tis a legacy from Elia, you'll
see. Silver and Gold had he none, but such as he had, left he you. I do
not know how to thank you for attending to my request about the Album. I
thought you would never remember it. Are not you proud and thankful,
Emma?
Yes, _very, both_-- EMMA ISOLA.
Many things I had to say to you, which there was not time for. _One_ why
should I forget? 'tis for Rose Aylmer, which has a charm I cannot
explain. I lived upon it for weeks.--
Next I forgot to tell you I knew all your Welch annoyancers, the
measureless Beethams. I knew a quarter of a mile of them. 17 brothers
and 16 sisters, as they appear to me in memory. There was one of them
that used to fix his long legs on my fender, and tell a story of a
shark, every night, endless, immortal. How have I grudged the salt sea
ravener not having had his gorge of him!
The shortest of the daughters measured 5 foot eleven without her shoes.
Well, some day we may confer about them. But they were tall. Surely I
have discover'd the longitude--
Sir, If you can spare a moment, I should be happy to hear from you--that
rogue Robinson detained your verses, till I call'd for them. Don't
entrust a bit of prose to the rogue, but believe me
Your obliged C.L.
My Sister sends her kind regards.
[Crabb Robinson took Landor to see Lamb on September 28, 1832. The
following passage in Forster's _Life of Landor_ describes the visit and
explains this letter:--
The hour he passed with Lamb was one of unalloyed enjoyment. A letter
from Crabb Robinson before he came over had filled him with affection
for that most lovable of men, who had not an infirmity to which his
sweetness of nature did not give something of kinship to a virtue. "I
have just seen Charles and Mary Lamb," Crabb Robinson had written (20th
October, 1831), "living in absolute solitude at Enfield. I find your
poems lying open before Lamb. Both tipsy and sober he is ever muttering
_Rose Aylmer_. But it is not those lines only that have a curious
fascination for him. He is always turning to _Gebir_ for things that
haunt him in the same way." Their first and last hour was now passed
together, and before they parted they were old friends. I visited Lamb
myself (with Barry Cornwall) the following month, and remember the
boyish delight with which he read to us the verses which Landor has
written in the album of Emma Isola. He had just received them through
Robinson, and had lost little time in making rich return by sending
Landor his Last Essays of Elia.
These were Landor's verses:--
TO EMMA ISOLA
Etrurian domes, Pelasgian walls,
Live fountains, with their nymphs around
Terraced and citron-scented halls,
Skies smiling upon sacred ground--
The giant Alps, averse to France,
Point with impatient pride to those,
Calling the Briton to advance,
Amid eternal rocks and snows--
I dare not bid him stay behind,
I dare not tell him where to see
The fairest form, the purest mind,
Ausonia! that e'er sprang from thee,
and this is "Rose Aylmer";--
Ah what avails the sceptred race!
Ah what the form divine!
What every virtue, every grace!
Rose Aylmer, all were thine.
Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes
May weep, but never see,
A night of memories and of sighs
I consecrate to thee.
Of the measureless Bethams Lamb wrote in similar terms, but more fully,
in an article in the _New Times_ in 1825, entitled "Many Friends" (see
Vol. I.).
On April 9, 1834, Landor wrote to Lady Blessington:--
I do not think that you ever knew Charles Lamb, who is lately dead.
Robinson took me to see him.
"Once, and once only, have I seen thy face,
Elia! once only has thy tripping tongue
Run o'er my heart, yet never has been left
Impression on it stronger or more sweet.
Cordial old man! what youth was in thy years,
What wisdom in thy levity, what soul
In every utterance of thy purest breast!
Of all that ever wore man's form,'tis thee
I first would spring to at the gate of Heaven."
I say _tripping_ tongue, for Charles Lamb stammered and spoke hurriedly.
He did not think it worth while to put on a fine new coat to come down
and see me in, as poor Coleridge did, but met me as if I had been a
friend of twenty years' standing; indeed, he told me I had been so, and
shewed me some things I had written much longer ago, and had utterly
forgotten. The world will never see again two such delightful volumes as
"The Essays of Elia;" no man living is capable of writing the worst
twenty pages of them. The Continent has Zadig and Gil Bias, we have Elia
and Sir Roger de Coverly.