where Southey was then residing, and where they spent a fortnight as the poet's guests. After Coleridge's departure for Germany, in 1798, a correspondence began between Lamb and Southey, which continued through that and part of the following year;-Southey retrospective before its time, and tinging all Southey as early as the year 1795; but no things with a strange solemnity; hints of intimacy ensued until he accompanied Lloyd that craving after immediate appliances in the summer of 1797 to the little village of which might give impulse to a harassed Burton, near Christchurch, in Hampshire, frame, and confidence to struggling fancy, and of that escape from the pressure of agony into fantastic mirth, which in after life made Lamb a problem to a stranger, while they endeared him a thousand-fold to those who really knew him. While the fulness of the religious sentiments, and the communicates to Lamb his Eclogues, which scriptural cast of the language, still partake of his early manhood, the visit of the narrator of the tale to the churchyard where his parents lie buried, after his nerves had been strung for the endeavour by wine at the village inn, and the half-frantic jollity of his old heart-broken friend (the lover of the tale), whom he met there, with the exquisite benignity of thought breathing through the whole, prophesy the delightful peculiarities and genial frailties of an after day. The reflections he makes on the eulogistic character of all the inscriptions, are drawn from his own childhood; for when a very little boy, walking with his sister in a churchyard, he suddenly asked her, "Mary, where do the naughty people lie?" he was then preparing for the press, and Lamb repaying the confidence by submitting the products of his own leisure hours to his genial critic. If Southey did not, in all respects, compensate Lamb for the absence of his earlier friend, he excited in him a more entire and active intellectual sympathy; as the character of Southey's mind bore more resemblance to his own than that of Coleridge. In purity of thought; in the love of the minutest vestige of antiquity; in a certain primness of style bounding in the rich humour which threatened to overflow it; they were nearly akin: both alike reverenced childhood, and both had preserved its best attributes unspotted from the world. If Lamb bowed to the genius of Coleridge with a fonder reverence, he felt more at home with Southey; and although he did not pour out the inmost secrets of his soul in his letters to him as to Coleridge, he gave more scope to the "first sprightly runnings" of his humorous fancy. Here is the first of his freaks : TO MR. SOUTHEY. "Rosamund Gray" remained unreviewed till August, 1800, when it received the following notice in "The Monthly Review's" catalogue, the manufacturer of which was probably more tolerant of heterodox composition in prose than verse:-"In the perusal of this pathetic and interesting story, the reader who has a mind capable of enjoying rational and moral sentiment will feel much gratification. Mr. Lamb has here proved himself skilful in touching the nicest "My tailor has brought me home a new feelings of the heart, and in affording great coat lapelled, with a velvet collar. He pleasure to the imagination, by exhibiting assures me everybody wears velvet collars events and situations which, in the hands of now. Some are born fashionable, some a writer less conversant with the springs and achieve fashion, and others, like your humble energies of the moral sense, would make a servant, have fashion thrust upon them. very 'sorry figure.'" While we acknowledge The rogue has been making inroads hitherto this scanty praise as a redeeming trait in the by modest degrees, foisting upon me an long series of critical absurdities, we cannot additional button, recommending gaiters, but help observing how curiously misplaced all to come upon me thus in a full tide of luxury, the laudatory epithets are; the sentiment neither becomes him as a tailor or the ninth being profound and true, but not "rational," of a man. My meek gentleman was robbed and the "springs and energies of the moral the other day, coming with his wife and sense" being substituted for a weakness family in a one-horse shay from Hampstead; which had a power of its own! the villains rifled him of four guineas, some Lamb was introduced by Coleridge to shillings and half-pence, and a hundle of customers' measures, which they swore were but I have forgot what church), attesting bank notes. They did not shoot him, and The following letter-yet richer in funbears date Saturday, July 28th, 1798. In order to make its allusions intelligible, it is only necessary to mention that Southey was then contemplating a calendar illustrative of the remarkable days of the year. TO MR. SOUTHEY. "July 28th, 1798. that enormous legend of as many children as days in the year. I marvel her impudence did not grasp at a leap-year. Three-hundred and sixty-five dedications, and all in a family you might spit in spirit, on the oneness of Macænas' patronage! "Samuel Taylor Coleridge, to the eternal regret of his native Devonshire, emigrates to Westphalia-Poor Lamb (these were his last words) if he wants any knowledge, he may apply to me,'-in ordinary cases I thanked him, I have an 'Encyclopedia' at hand, but on such an occasion as going over to a German university, I could not refrain from sending him the following propositions, to be by him defended or oppugned (or both) at Leipsic or Gottingen. THESES QUÆDAM THEOLOGICÆ. I. "Whether God loves a lying angel better than a true man?' II. "Whether the archangel Uriel could knowingly affirm an untruth, and whether, if he could, he would?' III. "Whether honesty be an angelic virtue, or not rather belonging to that class of qualities which the schoolmen term "virtutes minus splendida, et hominis et terræ nimis participes ? "' IV. "Whether the seraphim ardentes do not manifest their goodness by the way of vision and theory? and whether practice be not a sub-celestial, and merely human virtue?' "I am ashamed that I have not thanked you before this for the 'Joan of Arc,' but I did not know your address, and it did not occur to me to write through Cottle. The poem delighted me, and the notes amused me, but methinks she of Neufchatel, in the print, holds her sword too 'like a dancer.' I sent your notice to Phillips, particularly requesting an immediate insertion, but I suppose it came too late. I am sometimes curious to know what progress you make in that same 'Calendar:' whether you insert the nine worthies and Whittington? what you do or how you can manage when two Saints meet and quarrel for precedency? Martlemas, and Candlemas, and Christmas, are glorious themes for a writer like you, antiquity-bitten, smit with the love of boars' heads and rosemary; but how you can ennoble the 1st of April I know not. By the way I had a thing to say, but a certain false modesty has hitherto prevented me: perhaps I can best communicate my wish by a hint,—my birth-day is on the 10th of February, New Style, but if it interferes with any remarkable event, why rather than my country should lose her fame, I care not if I put my nativity back eleven days. Fine family patronage for "Whether the beatific vision be anything your 'Calendar,' if that old lady of prolific more or less than a perpetual representment memory were living, who lies (or lyes) in to each individual angel of his own present some church in London (saints forgive me, attainments, and future capabilities, some "Whether the higher order of seraphim illuminati ever sneer ? ' VI. "Whether pure intelligences can love, or whether they can love anything besides pure intellect?' VII. thing in the manner of mortal looking- accept of her bed, which she offered him, and glasses?' VIII. "Whether an “immortal and amenable soul” may not come to be damned at last, and the man never suspect it beforehand?' "Samuel Taylor hath not deigned an answer; was it impertinent of me to avail myself of that offered source of knowledge? "Wishing Madoc may be born into the world with as splendid promise as the second birth, or purification, of the Maid of Neufchatel,-I remain yours sincerely, "C. LAMB. "I hope Edith is better; my kindest remembrances to her. You have a good deal of trifling to forgive in this letter." The two next letters to Southey illustrate strikingly the restless kindness and exquisite spirit of allowance in Lamb's nature; the first an earnest pleading for a poor fellow whose distress actually haunted him; the second an affecting allusion to the real goodness of a wild untoward school-mate, and fine self-reproval-in this instance how unmerited! TO MR. SOUTHEY. offered herself to sleep in the kitchen; and that, in consequence of that severe cold, he is labouring under a bilious disorder, besides a depression of spirits, which incapacitates him from exertion when he most needs it. For God's sake, Southey, if it does not go against you to ask favours, do it now; ask it as for me; but do not do a violence to your feelings, because he does not know of this application, and will suffer no disappointment. What I meant to say was this,there are in the India House what are called extra clerks, not on the establishment, like me, but employed in extra business, by-jobs; these get about 50%. a year, or rather more, but never rise; a director can put in at any time a young man in this office, and it is by no means considered so great a favour as making an established clerk. He would think himself as rich as an emperor if he could get such a certain situation, and be relieved from those disquietudes which, I do fear, may one day bring back his distemper. "You know John May better than I do, but I know enough to believe that he is a good man; he did make me that offer I have mentioned, but you will perceive that such an offer cannot authorise me in applying for another person. But I cannot help writing to you on the subject, for the young man is perpetually before my eyes, and I shall feel it a crime not to strain all my petty interest to do him service, though I put my own delicacy to the question by so doing. I have made one other unsuccessful attempt already; at all events I will thank you to write, for I am tormented with anxiety. "C. LAMB." "DEAR SOUTHEY, "Dear Southey,-Your friend John May has formerly made kind offers to Lloyd of serving me in the India House, by the interest of his friend Sir Francis Baring. It is not likely that I shall ever put his goodness to the test on my own account, for my prospects are very comfortable. But I know a man, a young man, whom he could serve through the same channel, and, I think, would be disposed to serve if he were acquainted with his case. This poor fellow (whom I know "Poor Sam. Le Grice! I am afraid the just enough of to vouch for his strict integrity world, and the camp, and the university, have and worth) has lost two or three employments spoilt him among them. 'Tis certain he had from illness, which he cannot regain; he at one time a strong capacity of turning out vas once insane, and, from the distressful something better. I knew him, and that not wcertainty of his livelihood, has reason to long since, when he had a most warm heart. apprehend a return of that malady. He has I am ashamed of the indifference I have been for some time dependent on a woman sometimes felt towards him. I think the whose lodger he formerly was, but who can devil is in one's heart. I am under obligations ill afford to maintain him; and I know that to that man for the warmest friendship, and on Christmas night last he actually walked heartiest sympathy, even for an agony of about the streets all night, rather than sympathy exprest both by word, and deed, and tears for me, when I was in my greatest distress. But I have forgot that! as, I fear, he has nigh forgot the awful scenes which were before his eyes when he served the office of a comforter to me. No service was too mean or troublesome for him to perform. I can't think what but the devil, 'that old spider,' could have suck'd my heart so dry of its sense of all gratitude. If he does come in your way, Southey, fail not to tell him that I retain a most affectionate remembrance of his old friendliness, and an earnest wish to resume our intercourse. In this I am serious. I cannot recommend him to your society, because I am afraid whether he be quite worthy of it. But I have no right to dismiss him from my regard. He was at one time, and in the worst of times, my own familiar friend, and great comfort to me then. I have known him to play at cards with my father, meal-times excepted, literally all day long, in long days too, to save me from being teased by the old man, when I was not able to bear it. TO MR. SOUTHEY. "I just send you a few rhymes from my A forest-liver play, the only rhymes in it. giving an account of his amusements. 'What sports have you in the forest? To see the sun to bed, and see him rise, To view the graceful deer come trooping by, To mark the structure of a plant or tree; "I love to anticipate charges of unorigin"God bless him for it, and God bless you, ality: the first line is almost Shakspeare's :Southey. "C. L." Lamb now began to write the tragedy of John Woodvil. His admiration of the dramatists of Elizabeth's age was yet young, and had some of the indiscretion of an early love; but there was nothing affected in the antique cast of his language, or the frequent roughness of his verse. His delicate sense of beauty had found a congenial organ in the style which he tasted with rapture; and criticism gave him little encouragement to adapt it to the frigid insipidities of the time. "My tragedy," says he in the first letter to Southey, which alludes to the play, "will be a medley (or I intend it to be a medley) of laughter and tears, prose and verse; and, in some places, rhyme; songs, wit, pathos, humour; and, if possible, sublimity ;-at least, 'tis not a fault in my intention if it does not comprehend most of these discordant atoms-Heaven send they dance not the dance of death!" In another letter he there introduces the delicious rhymed passage in the "Forest Scene," which Godwin, having accidentally seen quoted, took for a choice fragment of an old dramatist, and went to Lamb to assist him in finding the author. To have my love to bed and to arise.' "I think there is a sweetness in the versification not unlike some rhymes in that! exquisite play, and the last line but three is yours: 'An eye That met the gaze, or turn'd it knew not why.' Rosamund's Epistle. "I shall anticipate all my play, and have nothing to show you. An idea for Leviathan -Commentators on Job have been puzzled to find out a meaning for Leviathan,—'tis a whale, say some; a crocodile, say others. In my simple conjecture, Leviathan is neither more nor less than the Lord Mayor of London for the time being." He seems also to have sent about this time the solemnly fantastic poem of the "Witch," as the following passage relates to one of its conceits: TO MR. SOUTHEY. "Your recipe for a Turk's poison is invaluable, and truly Marlowish. Lloyd objects to 'shutting up the womb of his purse' in my curse, (which, for a Chris- the cheap merriment, the welcomings, and tian witch in a Christian country, is not too the secret envyings of the maidens-then mild, I hope,) do you object? I think there dropping all this, recur to her present lot. is a strangeness in the idea, as well as I do not know that I can suggest anything 'shaking the poor like snakes from his door,' else, or that I have suggested anything new which suits the speaker. Witches illustrate, or material. I shall be very glad to see some as fine ladies do, from their own familiar more poetry, though, I fear, your trouble in objects, and snakes and shutting up of transcribing will be greater than the service wombs are in their way. I don't know that my remarks may do them. this last charge has been before brought "C. LAMB. against 'em, nor either the sour milk or the mandrake babe; but I affirm these be things a witch would do if she could." Here is a specimen of Lamb's criticism on Southey's poetical communications : TO MR. SOUTHEY. "I have read your Eclogue repeatedly, and cannot call it bald, or without interest; the cast of it, and the design, are completely original, and may set people upon thinking: it is as poetical as the subject requires, which asks no poetry; but it is defective in pathos. The woman's own story is the tamest part of it-I should like you to remould that-it too much resembles the young maid's history, both had been in service. Even the omission would not injure the poem; after the words 'growing wants,' you might, not unconnectedly, introduce 'look at that little chub' down to 'welcome one.' And, decidedly, I would have you end it somehow thus, 'Give them at least this evening a good meal. [Gives her money. Now, fare thee well; hereafter you have taught me To give sad meaning to the village-bells,' &c. "Yours affectionately, "I cut my letter short because I am called off to business." "Dear Southey,-I thank you heartily for the Eclogue; it pleases me mightily, being so full of picture-work and circumstances. I find no fault in it, unless perhaps that Joanna's ruin is a catastrophe too trite: and this is not the first or second time you have clothed your indignation, in verse, in a tale of ruined innocence. The old lady, spinning in the sun, I hope would not disdain to claim some kindred with old Margaret. I could almost wish you to vary some circumstances in the conclusion. A gentleman seducer has so often been described in prose and verse; what if you had accomplished Joanna's ruin by the clumsy arts and rustic gifts of some country-fellow? I am thinking, I believe, of the song, 'An old woman clothed in grey, Whose daughter was charming and young, And she was deluded away By Roger's false flattering tongue.' which would leave a stronger impression, (as well as more pleasingly recall the beginning of the Eclogue,) than the present commonplace reference to a better world, which the woman 'must have heard at church.' Ι should like you too a good deal to enlarge A Roger-Lothario would be a novel character, the most striking part, as it might have been, I think you might paint him very well. You of the poem-'Is it idleness?' &c., that may think this a very silly suggestion, and affords a good field for dwelling on sickness, so, indeed, it is; but, in good truth, nothing and inabilities, and old age. And you might else but the first words of that foolish ballad also a good deal enrich the piece with a put me upon scribbling my 'Rosamund.' picture of a country wedding: the woman But I thank you heartily for the poem. Not might very well, in a transient fit of oblivion, having anything of my own to send you in dwell upon the ceremony and circumstances return-though, to tell truth, I am at work of her own nuptials six years ago, the upon something, which, if I were to cut away anugness of the bridegroom, the feastings, and garble, perhaps I might send you an D |