of Spenser' to be restored on Wordsworth's authority; and now, all that you will miss will be Flicker and Flicker's Wife,'' The Thimble,' 'Breathe, dear harmonist,' and 1 believe, 'The Child that was fed with Manna.' Another volume will clear off all your Anthologic Morning-Postian Epistolary Miscellanies; but pray don't put 'Christabel' therein; don't let that sweet maid come forth attended with Lady Holland's mob at her heels. Let there be a separate volume of Tales, Choice Tales, 'Ancient Mariners,' &c. "C. LAMB."

addressed

TO MR. WORDSWORTH.

Cripplegate. You will make seasonable inquiries, for a watch mayn't come your way again in a hurry. I have been repeatedly after Tobin, and now hear that he is in the country, not to return till middle of June. I will take care and see him with the earliest. But cannot you write pathetically to him, enforcing a speedy mission of your books for literary purposes? He is too good a retainer to Literature, to let her interests suffer through his default. And why, in the name of Beelzebub, are your books to travel from Barnard's Inn to the Temple, and thence circuitously to Cripplegate, when their business is to take a short cut down Holbornhill, up Snow do., on to Wood-street, &c. ? The following is the fragment of a letter The former mode seems a sad superstitious (part being lost), on the re-appearance of subdivision of labour. Well! the 'Man of the Lyrical Ballads, in two volumes, and Ross' is to stand; Longman begs for it; the printer stands with a wet sheet in one hand, and a useless Pica in the other, in tears, pleading for it; I relent. Besides, it was a Salutation poem, and has the mark of the beast 'Tobacco' upon it. Thus much I have done; I have swept off the lines about widows and orphans in second edition, which (if you remember) you most awkwardly and illogically caused to be inserted between two Ifs, to the great breach and disunion of said Ifs, which now meet again (as in first edition), like two clever lawyers arguing a case. Another reason for subtracting the pathos was, that the Man of Ross' is too familiar, to need telling what he did, especially in worse lines than Pope told it, and it now stands simply as 'Reflections at an Inn about a known Character,' and sucking an old story into an accommodation with present feelings. Here is no breaking spears with Pope, but a new, independent, and really a very pretty poem. In fact 'tis as I used to admire it in the first volume, and I have even dared to restore

'If 'neath this roof thy wine-cheer'd moments pass,' for

'Beneath this roof if thy cheer'd moments pass.'

1

"Thanks for your letter and present. I had already borrowed your second volume. What most please me are, 'The Song of Lucy;' Simon's sickly daughter, in 'The Sexton' made me cry. Next to these are the description of the continuous echoes in the story of 'Joanna's Laugh,' where the mountains, and all the scenery absolutely seem alive; and that fine Shakspearian character of the 'happy man,' in the 'Brothers,'

that creeps about the fields,
Following his fancies by the hour, to bring
Tears down his cheek, or solitary smiles
Into his face, until the setting sun
Write Fool upon his forehead !'

I will mention one more-the delicate and
curious feeling in the wish for the
Cumberland Beggar,' that he may have
about him the melody of birds, altho' he
hear them not. Here the mind knowingly
passes a fiction upon herself, first substituting
her own feelings for the Beggar's, and in the
same breath detecting the fallacy, will not
part with the wish. The 'Poet's Epitaph'
is disfigured, to my taste, by the common
satire upon parsons and lawyers in the
beginning, and the coarse epithet of 'pin-
point,' in the sixth stanza. All the rest is
eminently good, and your own.
I will just

'Cheer'd' is a sad general word, 'wine-cheer'd' I'm sure you'd give me, if I had a speakingtrumpet to sound to you 300 miles. But I am your factotum, and that save in this instance, which is a single case, and I can't add that it appears to me a fault in the get at you, shall be next to a fac-nihil-at 'Beggar,' that the instructions conveyed in most, a fac-simile. I have ordered 'Imitation it are too direct, and like a lecture: they

don't slide into the mind of the reader while remarks, because I am hurt and vexed that he is imagining no such matter. An intelli- you should think it necessary, with a prose gent reader finds a sort of insult in being apology, to open the eyes of dead men that told, 'I will teach you how to think upon cannot see. this subject.' This fault, if I am right, is "To sum up a general opinion of the second in a ten-thousandth worse degree to be found volume, I do not feel any one poem in it so in Sterne, and many many novelists and forcibly as the 'Ancient Marinere,' the 'Mad modern poets, who continually put a sign- Mother,' and the 'Lines at Tintern Abbey' post up to show where you are to feel. They in the first." set out with assuming their readers to be stupid; very different from 'Robinson Crusoe,' 'The Vicar of Wakefield,' 'Roderick Random,' and other beautiful, bare narratives. There is implied an unwritten compact between author and reader; "I will tell you a story, and I suppose you will understand it.' Modern novels, 'St. Leons' and the like, are full of such flowers as these 'Let not my reader suppose,' 'Imagine, if you can, modest!' &c. I will here have done with praise and blame. I have written so much, only that you may not think I have passed over your book without observation.

I am sorry that Coleridge has christened his 'Ancient Marinere' 'a Poet's Reverie;' it is as bad as Bottom the Weaver's declaration that he is not a lion, but only the scenical representation of a lion. What new idea is gained by this title but one subversive of all credit—which the tale should force upon us, -of its truth!

For me, I was never so affected with any human tale. After first reading it, I was totally possessed with it for many days. I dislike all the miraculous part of it, but the feelings of the man under the operation of such scenery, dragged me along like Tom Pipes's magic whistle. I totally differ from your idea that the 'Marinere' should have had a character and profession. This is a beauty in 'Gulliver's Travels,' where the mind is kept in a placid state of little wonderments; but the 'Ancient Marinere' undergoes such trials as overwhelm and bury all individuality or memory of what he was like the state of a man in a bad dream, one terrible peculiarity of which is, that all consciousness of personality is gone. Your other observation is, I think as well, a little unfounded: the Marinere,' from being conversant in supernatural events, has acquired a supernatural and strange cast of phrase, eye, appearance, &c., which frighten the 'wedding-guest.' You will excuse my

The following letter was addressed, on 28th September, 1805, when Lamb was bidding his generous farewell to Tobacco, to Wordsworth, then living in noble poverty with his sister in a cottage by Grasmere. which is as sacred to some of his old admirers as even Shakspeare's House.

TO MR. WORDSWORTH.

"My dear Wordsworth (or Dorothy rather, for to you appertains the biggest part of this answer by right), I will not again deserve reproach by so long a silence. I have kept deluding myself with the idea that Mary would write to you, but she is so lazy (or I believe the true state of the case, so diffident), that it must revert to me as usual: though she writes a pretty good style, and has some notion of the force of words, she is not always so certain of the true orthography of them; and that, and a poor handwriting (in this age of female calligraphy), often deters her, where no other reason does.*

"We have neither of us been very well for some weeks past. I am very nervous, and she most so at those times when I am; so that a merry friend, adverting to the noble consolation we were able to afford each other, denominated us, not unaptly, GumBoil and Tooth-Ache, for they used to say that a gum-boil is a great relief to a toothache.

"We have been two tiny excursions this summer for three or four days each, to a place near Harrow, and to Egham, where Cooper's Hill is: and that is the total history of our rustications this year.. Alas! how poor a round to Skiddaw and Helvellyn, and Borrowdale, and the magnificent sesquipedalia of the year 1802. Poor old Molly! to have lost her pride, that 'last infirmity of This is mere banter; Miss Lamb wrote a very good hand.

TO MR. HAZLITT.

noble minds,' and her cow. Fate need not scarcely conscious of his own literary powers, have set her wits to such an old Molly. I was striving hard to become a painter. At am heartily sorry for her. Remember us the period of the following letter (which is lovingly to her; and in particular remember dated 15th March, 1806) Hazlitt was residing us to Mrs. Clarkson in the most kind manner. with his father, an Unitarian minister, at "I hope, by 'southwards,' you mean that Wem. she will be at or near London, for she is a great favourite of both of us, and we feel for her health as much as possible for any one to do. She is one of the friendliest, comfortablest women we know, and made our little stay at your cottage one of the pleasantest times we ever past. We were quite strangers to her. Mr. C. is with you too; our kindest separate remembrances to him. As to our special affairs, I am looking about me. I have done nothing since the beginning of last year, when I lost my newspaper job, and having had a long idleness, I must do something, or we shall get very poor. Sometimes I think of a farce, but hitherto all schemes have gone off; an idle brag or two of an evening, vapouring out of a pipe, and going off in the morning; but now I have bid farewell to my 'sweet enemy,' Tobacco, as you will see in my next page,* I shall perhaps set nobly to work. Hang work!

"I wish that all the year were holiday; I am sure that indolence-indefeasible indolence is the true state of man, and business the invention of the old Teazer, whose interference doomed Adam to an apron and set him a hoeing. Pen and ink, and clerks and desks, were the refinements of this old torturer some thousand years after, under pretence of 'Commerce allying distant shores, Promoting and diffusing knowledge, good,' &c. &c. Yours truly,

CHAPTER V.

"C. LAMB."

LETTERS TO HAZLITT, ETC.
[1805 to 1810.]

ABOUT the year 1805 Lamb was introduced to one, whose society through life was one of his chief pleasures-the great critic and thinker, William Hazlitt--who, at that time,

The "Farewell to Tobacco" was transcribed on the

"Dear H.-I am a little surprised at no letter from you. This day week, to wit, Saturday, the 8th of March, 1806, I book'd off by the Wem coach, Bull and Mouth Inn, directed to you, at the Rev. Mr. Hazlitt's, Wem, Shropshire, a parcel containing, besides a book, &c., a rare print, which I take to be a Titian; begging the said W. H. to acknowledge the receipt thereof; which he not having done, I conclude the said parcel to be lying at the inn, and may be lost; for which reason, lest you may be a Wales-hunting at this instant, I have authorised any of your family, whosoever first gets this, to open it, that so precious a parcel may not moulder away for want of looking after. What do you in Shropshire when so many fine pictures are a-going a-going every day in London? Monday I visit the Marquis of Lansdowne's, in Berkeley Square. Catalogue 2s. 6d. Leonardos in plenty. Some other day this week, I go to see Sir Wm. Young's, in Stratford Place. Hulse's, of Blackheath, are also to be sold this month, and in May, the first private collection in Europe, Welbore Ellis Agar's. And there are you perverting Nature in lying landscapes, filched from old rusty Titians, such as I can scrape up here to send you, with an additament from Shropshire nature thrown in to make the whole look unnatural. I am afraid of your mouth watering when I tell you that Manning and I got into Angerstein's on Wednesday. Mon Dieu! Such Claudes! Four Claudes bought for more than 10,000l. (those who talk of Wilson being equal to Claude are either mainly ignorant or stupid); one of these was perfectly miraculous. What colours short of bona fide sunbeams it could be painted in, I am not earthly colourman enough to say; but I did not think it had been in the possibility of things. Then, a music-piece by Titian-a thousand-pound picture-five figures standing behind a piano, the sixth

next page; but the actual sacrifice was not completed playing; none of the heads, as M. observed,

ill some years after.

indicating great men, or affecting it, but so

sweetly disposed; all leaning separate ways, The following is Lamb's account of the but so easy, like a flock of some divine same calamity, addressed shepherd; the colouring, like the economy of the picture, so sweet and harmonious-as good as Shakspeare's 'Twelfth Night,'almost, that is. It will give you a love of let her write. order, and cure you of restless, fidgetty passions for a week after-more musical

than the music which it would, but cannot, last night, and failed. I had many fears; yet in a manner does, show. I have no room the subject was not substantial enough. for the rest. Let me say, Angerstein sits in John Bull must have solider fare than a a room-his study (only that and the library letter. We are pretty stout about it; have are shown), when he writes a common letter, as I am doing, surrounded with twenty pictures worth 60,000l. What a luxury! Apicius and Heliogabalus, hide your diminished heads!

"Mary is by no means unwell, but I made some of those aids, and gives a pleasant her let me write."

never quite overcame, and which afforded fantastic letter, in the nature of a hoax, a striking contrast to the boldness of his having puzzled his father, who expected him published thoughts. at Wem, caused some inquiries of Lamb respecting the painter's retreat, to which he thus replied in a letter to

TO MR. WORDSWORTH.

"1806.

"Mary is just stuck fast in 'All's Well that Ends Well.' She complains of having to set forth so many female characters in boys' clothes. She begins to think Shakspeare must have wanted-Imagination. I, to encourage her, for she often faints in the prosecution of her great work, flatter her with telling her how well such a play and such a play is done. But she is stuck fast, and I have been obliged to promise to assist her. To do this, it will be necessary to leave off tobacco. But I had some thoughts of doing that before, for I sometimes think it does not agree with me. W. Hazlitt is in town. I took him to see a very pretty girl, professedly, where there were two young girls-the very head and sum of the girlery was two young girls-they neither laughed, nor sneered, nor giggled, nor whispered-but they were young girls-and he sat and frowned blacker and blacker, indignant that there should be such a thing as youth and beauty, till he tore me away before supper, in perfect misery, and owned he could not bear young girls; they drove him mad. So I took him home to my old nurse, where he recovered perfect tranquillity. Independent of this, and as I am not a young girl myself, he is a great acquisition to us. He is, rather imprudently I think, printing a political pamphlet on his own account, and will have to pay for the paper, &c. The first duty of an author, I take it, is never to pay anything. But non cuivis contigit adire Corinthum. The managers, I thank my stars, have settled that question for me.

"Yours truly, C. LAMB."

THE REV. MR. HAZLITT.

66 Temple, 18th February, 1808. "Sir, I am truly concerned that any mistake of mine should have caused you uneasiness, but I hope we have got a clue to William's absence, which may clear up all apprehensions. The people where he lodges in town have received direction from him to forward some linen to a place called Winterslow, in the county of Wilts (not far from Salisbury), where the lady lives whose cottage, pictured upon a card, if you opened my letter you have doubtless seen, and though we have had no explanation of the mystery since, we shrewdly suspect that at the time of writing that letter which has given you all this trouble, a certain son of yours (who is both painter and author) was at her elbow, and did assist in framing that very cartoon which was sent to amuse and mislead us in town, as to the real place of his destination.

"And some words at the back of the said cartoon, which we had not marked so narrowly before, by the similarity of the handwriting to William's, do very much confirm the suspicion. If our theory be right, they have had the pleasure of their jest, and I am afraid you have paid for it in anxiety.

"But I hope your uneasiness will now be removed, and you will pardon a suspense occasioned by Love, who does so many worse mischiefs every day.

"The letter to the people where William lodges says, moreover, that he shall be in town in a fortnight.

"My sister joins in respects to you and Mrs. Hazlitt, and in our kindest remembrances and wishes for the restoration of Peggy's health.

"I am, Sir, your humble servant,

"C. LAMB."

Hazlitt, coming to reside in town, became a frequent guest of Lamb's, and a brilliant ornament of the parties which Lamb now began to collect on Wednesday evenings. Не seems, in the beginning of 1808, to have sought solitude in a little inn on Salisbury Mr. and Mrs. Hazlitt afterwards took up Plain, to which he became deeply attached, their temporary abode at Winterslow, to and which he has associated with some of which place Miss Lamb addressed the his profoundest meditations; and some following letter, containing interesting details