only following at unresembling distance, Sterne and greater Cervantes. Besides these, I know of no other examples of breaking down the partition between us and our 'poor earth-born companions.' It is sometimes revolting to be put in a track of feeling by other people, not one's own immediate thoughts, else I would persuade you, if I could (I am in earnest), to commence a series of these animal poems, which might have a tendency to rescue some poor creatures from the antipathy of mankind. Some thoughts come across me ;-for instance-to a rat, to a toad, to a cockchafer, to a mole-people bake moles alive by a slow oven-fire to cure consumption rats are, indeed, the most despised and contemptible parts of God's earth. I killed a rat the other day by punching him to pieces, and feel a weight of blood upon me to this hour. Toads you know are made to fly, and tumble down and crush all to pieces. Cockchafers are old sport; then again to a worm, with an apostrophe to anglers, those patient tyrants, meek inflictors of pangs intolerable, cool devils; to an owl; to all snakes, with an apology for their poison; to a cat in boots or bladders. Your own fancy, if it takes a fancy to these hints, will suggest many more. A series of such poems, suppose them accompanied with plates descriptive of animal torments, cooks roasting lobsters, fishmongers crimping skates, &c., &c. would take excessively. I will willingly enter into a partnership in the plan with you: I think my heart and soul would go with it too-at least, give it a thought. My plan is but this minute come into my head; but it strikes me instantaneously as something new, good, and useful, full of pleasure, and full of moral. If old Quarles and Wither could live again, we would invite them into our firm. Burns hath done his part." In the summer Lamb revisited the scenes in Hertfordshire, where, in his grandmother's time, he had spent so many happy holidays. In the following letter, he just hints at feelings which, many years after, he so beautifully developed in those essays of 'Elia,''Blakesmoor,' and 'Mackery End.' TO MR. SOUTHEY. "Oct. 31st, 1799. "Dear Southey,—I have but just got your letter, being returned from Herts, where I have passed a few red-letter days with much pleasure. I would describe the county to, you, as you have done by Devonshire, but alas! I am a poor pen at that same. I could tell you of an old house with a tapestry bedroom, the 'Judgment of Solomon' composing one pannel, and 'Acteon spying Diana naked' the other. I could tell of an old marble hall, with Hogarth's prints, and the Roman Caesars in marble hung round. I could tell of a wilderness, and of a village church, and where the bones of my honoured grandam lie; but there are feelings which refuse to be translated, sulky aborigines, which will not be naturalised in another soil. Of this nature are old family faces, and scenes of infancy. "I have given your address, and the books you want, to the Arch's; they will send them as soon as they can get them, but they do not seem quite familiar to their names. I shall have nothing to communicate, I fear, to the Anthology. You shall have some fragments of my play, if you desire them, but I think I had rather print it whole. Have you seen it, or shall I lend you a copy? I want your opinion of it. remembrance to you, conveyed in some letter again. I did not mean a pun,—your man's to Lloyd. face, you will be apt to say, I know your "Will it be agreeable to you, if I occasion-wicked will to pun. I cannot now write to ally recruit your memory of me, which must else soon fade, if you consider the brief intercourse we have had. I am not likely to prove a troublesome correspondent. My scribbling days are past. I shall have no sentiments to communicate, but as they spring up from some living and worthy occasion. "I look forward with great pleasure to the performance of your promise, that we should meet in London early in the ensuing year. The century must needs commence auspiciously for me, that brings with it Manning's friendship, as an earnest of its after gifts. “I should have written before, but for a troublesome inflammation in one of my eyes, brought on by night travelling with the coach windows sometimes up. Lloyd and you too, so you must convey as much interesting intelligence as this may contain or be thought to contain, to him and Sophia, with my dearest love and remembrances. "By the by, I think you and Sophia both incorrect with regard to the title of the play.* Allowing your objection (which is not necessary, as pride may be, and is in real life often, cured by misfortunes not directly originating from its own acts, as Jeremy Taylor will tell you a naughty desire is sometimes sent to cure it. I know you read these practical divines)-but allowing your objection, does not the betraying of his father's secret directly spring from pride ?—from the pride of wine and a full heart, and a proud overstepping of the ordinary rules of morality, and contempt of the prejudices of mankind, which are not to bind superior souls-‘as trust in the matter of secrets all ties of blood, &c. &c., keeping of promises, the feeble mind's. religion, binding our morning knowledge to the performance of what last night's ignorance spake'-does he not prate, that 'Great Spirits' must do more than die for their friend-does not the pride of wine incite him to display "Dear Manning,-Having suspended my some evidence of friendship, which its own correspondence a decent interval, as knowing irregularity shall make great? This I know, that even good things may be taken to satiety, that I meant his punishment not alone to be a wish cannot but recur to learn whether a cure for his daily and habitual pride, but you be still well and happy. Do all things continue in the state I left them in Cambridge? "What more I have to say shall be reserved for a letter to Lloyd. I must not prove tedious to you in my first outset, lest I should affright you by my ill-judged loquacity. "I am, yours most sincerely, TO MR. MANNING. "C. LAMB." "Dec. 28th, 1799. the direct consequence and appropriate punishment of a particular act of pride. "If you do not understand it so, it is my fault in not explaining my meaning. "I have not seen Coleridge since, and scarcely expect to see him,-perhaps he has been at Cambridge. "Need I turn over to blot a fresh clean half-sheet? merely to say, what I hope you are sure of without my repeating it, that I would have you consider me, dear Manning, Do your night parties still flourish? and do you continue to bewilder your company, with your thousand faces, running down through all the keys of idiotism (like Lloyd over his perpetual harpsichord), from the smile and the glimmer of half-sense and quarter-sense, to the grin and hanging lip of Betty Foy's own Johnny? And does the face-dissolving curfew sound at twelve? How unlike the great originals were your petty terrors in the postscript, not fearful enough to make a fairy shudder, or a Lilliputian fine lady, eight months full of child, miscarry. Yet one of them, which had more beast than the rest, I thought faintly resembled one of your brutifications. But, seriously, I long to see your own honest Manning-face "Pride's Cure." "Your sincere friend, "C. LAMB." Early in the following year (1800), Lamb, with his sister, removed to Chapel-street, Pentonville. In the summer he visited Coleridge, at Stowey, and spent a few *It had been proposed to entitle John Woodvil yet? I was looking out for John Thelwall all the way from Bridgewater, and had I met him, I think it would have moved almost me to tears. You will oblige me too by sending me my great-coat, which I left behind in the oblivious state the mind is thrown into at parting is it not ridiculous that I sometimes envy that great-coat lingering so cunningly behind!—at present I have none-so send it me by a Stowey waggon, if there be such a thing, directing for C. L., No. 45, Chapel-street, Pentonville, near London. But above all, that Inscription! delightful holidays in his society and that when I was present with you seemed scarce of Wordsworth, who then resided in the to indent my notice, now presses painfully neighbourhood. This was the first oppor- on my remembrance. Is the Patriot come tunity Lamb had enjoyed of seeing much of yet? Are Wordsworth and his sister gone the poet, who was destined to exercise a beneficial and lasting influence on the literature and moral sense of the opening century. At this time Lamb was scarcely prepared to sympathise with the naked simplicity of the "Lyrical Ballads," which Wordsworth was preparing for the press. The "rich conceits" of the writers of Elizabeth's reign had been blended with his first love of poetry, and he could not at once acknowledge the serene beauty of a style, in which language was only the stainless mirror of thought, and which sought no aid either from the grandeur of artificial life or the pomp of words. In it will recall to me the tones of all your after days he was among the most earnest of voices—and with them many a remembered this great poet's admirers, and rejoiced as he kindness to one who could and can repay found the scoffers who sneered at his bold you all only by the silence of a grateful experiment gradually owning his power. How heart. I could not talk much, while I was he felt when the little golden opportunity of with you, but my silence was not sullenness, conversation with Wordsworth and Cole- nor I hope from any bad motive; but, in ridge had passed will appear from the truth, disuse has made me awkward at it. following letter, which seems to have been I know I behaved myself, particularly at addressed to Coleridge shortly after his Tom Poole's, and at Cruikshank's, most like return to London. a sulky child; but company and converse are strange to me. It was kind in you all to endure me as you did. 6 TO MR. COLERIDGE. "I am scarcely yet so reconciled to the loss of you, or so subsided into my wonted uniformity of feeling, as to sit calmly down to think of you and write to you. But I reason myself into the belief that those few and pleasant holidays shall not have been spent in vain. I feel improvement in the recollection of many a casual conversation. The names of Tom Poole, of Wordsworth and his good sister, with thine and Sarah's, are become familiar in my mouth as household words.' You would make me very happy, if you think W. has no objection, by transcribing for me that inscription of his. I have some scattered sentences ever floating on my memory, teasing me that I cannot remember more of it. You may believe I will make no improper use of it. Believe me I can think now of many subjects on which I had planned gaining information from you; but I forgot my treasure's worth' while I possessed it. Your leg is now become to me a matter of much more importance and many a little thing, which "Are you and your dear Sarah-to me also very dear, because very kind-agreed yet about the management of little Hartley? and how go on the little rogue's teeth? I will see White to-morrow, and he shall send you information on that matter; but as perhaps I can do it as well after talking with him, I will keep this letter open. "My love and thanks to you and all of you. "C. L." "Wednesday Evening." Coleridge shortly after came to town, to make arrangements for his contributions to the daily press. The following note is addressed to him when in London. TO MR. COLERIDGE. "Jan. 2nd, 1800. "Dear Coleridge,-Now I write, I cannot miss this opportunity of acknowledging the obligations myself, and the readers in general of that luminous paper, the 'Morning Post,' are under to you for the very novel and exquisite manner in which you combined "Pray pardon me, if my letters do not political with grammatical science, in your come very thick. I am so taken up with one yesterday's dissertation on Mr. Wyndham's thing or other, that I cannot pick out (I will unhappy composition. It must have been not say time, but) fitting times to write to the death-blow to that ministry. I expect you. My dear love to Lloyd and Sophia, and Pitt and Grenville to resign. More especially pray split this thin letter into three parts, and the delicate and Cottrellian grace with which present them with the two biggest in my name. you officiated, with a ferula for a white wand, They are my oldest friends; but, ever as gentleman usher to the word 'also,' which the new friend driveth out the old, as the it seems did not know its place. ballad sings! God bless you all three! I would hear from Ll. if I could. "I expect Manning of Cambridge in town to-night-will you fulfil your promise of meeting him at my house? He is a man of a thousand. Give me a line to say what day, whether Saturday, Sunday, Monday, &c., and if Sarah and the Philosopher can come. I am afraid if I did not at intervals call upon you, I should never see you. But I forget, the affairs of the nation engross your time and your mind. "Farewell, "C. L." "March 17th, 1800. "C. L." "Flour has just fallen nine shillings a sack! we shall be all too rich. "Tell Charles I have seen his mamma, and have almost fallen in love with her, since I mayn't with Olivia. She is so fine and graceful, a complete matron-lady-quaker. She has given me two little books. Olivia grows a charming girl-full of feeling, and thinner than she was; but I have not time to fall in love. She keeps in fine health!" Coleridge, during this visit, recommended "Dear Manning,-I am living in a con- Lamb to Mr. Daniel Stuart, then editor of tinuous feast. Coleridge has been with me the "Morning Post," as a writer of light now for nigh three weeks, and the more I see articles, by which he might add something of him in the quotidian undress and relax- to an income, then barely sufficient for the ation of his mind, the more cause I see to decent support of himself and his sister. It love him, and believe him a very good man, would seem from his next letter to Manning, and all those foolish impressions to the that he had made an offer to try his hand at contrary fly off like morning slumbers. He some personal squibs, which, ultimately, was is engaged in translations, which I hope will not accepted. Manning need not have keep him this month to come. He is uncom-feared that there would have been a particle monly kind and friendly to me. He ferrets of malice in them! Lamb afterwards became me day and night to do something. He tends me, amidst all his own worrying and heartoppressing occupations, as a gardener tends his young tulip. Marry come up; what a pretty similitude, and how like your humble servant! He has lugged me to the brink of engaging to a newspaper, and has suggested to me for a first plan, the forgery of a supposed manuscript of Burton the anatomist of melancholy. I have even written the introductory letter; and, if I can pick up a few guineas this way, I feel they will be most refreshing, bread being so dear. If I go on with it, I will apprise you of it, as you may like to see my things! and the tulip of all flowers, loves to be admired most. a correspondent to the paper, and has recorded his experience of the misery of toiling after pleasantries in one of the "Essays of Elia," entitled "Newspapers thirty-five years ago." TO MR. MANNING. "C. L.'s moral sense presents her compliments to Doctor Manning, is very thankful for his medical advice, but is happy to add that her disorder has died of itself. "Dr. Manning, Coleridge has left us, to go into the north, on a visit to his God, Wordsworth. With him have flown all my splendid prospects of engagement with the 'Morning Post,' all my visionary guineas, the deceitful wages of unborn scandal. In truth, I wonder property, properly my own. "Stuart has got these, with an introductory letter; but, not hearing from him, I have ceased from my labours, but I write to him to-day to get a final answer. I am afraid they won't do for a paper. Burton is a scarce gentleman, not much known, else I had done 'em pretty well. "I have also hit off a few lines in the name of Burton, being a 'Conceit of Diabolic Possession.' Burton was a man often assailed by deepest melancholy, and at other times much given to laughing, and jesting, as is the way with melancholy men. I will send them you they were almost extempore, and no great things; but you will indulge them. Robert Lloyd is come to town. Priscilla meditates going to see Pizarro at Drury Lane to-night, (from her uncle's) under cover of coming to dine with me.. heu! tempora! heu! mores!-I have barely time to finish, as I expect her and Robin every minute.Yours as usual, "C. L." The following is an extract from a letter addressed about this time to Manning, who had taken a view of a personal matter relating to a common friend of both, directly contrary to that of Lamb. TO MR. MANNING. "Dear Manning,-Rest you merry in your opinion! Opinion is a species of property; and though I am always desirous to share and Some day, Manning, when we meet, substituting Corydon and fair Amaryllis, for we will discuss together this question of moral feeling, 'In what cases, and how far sincerity is a virtue?' I do not mean Truth, a good Olivia-like creature, God bless her, who, meaning no offence, is always ready to give an answer when she is asked why she did so and so; but a certain forward-talking half-brother of hers, Sincerity, that amphibious gentleman, who is so ready to perk up his obnoxious sentiments unasked into your notice, as Midas would his ears into your face uncalled for. But I despair of doing anything by a letter in the way of explaining or coming to explanations. A good wish, or a pun, or a piece of secret history, may be well enough that way conveyed; nay, it has been known, that intelligence of a turkey hath been conveyed by that medium, without much ambiguity. Godwin I am a good deal pleased with. He is a very well-behaved, decent man, nothing very brilliant about him, or imposing, as you may suppose; quite another guess sort of gentleman from what your Anti-jacobin Christians imagine him. I was well pleased to find he has neither horns nor claws; quite a tame creature, I assure you. A middle-sized man, both in stature and in understanding; whereas, from his noisy fame, you would expect to find a Briareus Centimanus, or a Tityus tall enough to pull Jupiter from his heavens. 66 'Pray, is it a part of your sincerity to show my letters to Lloyd ? for, really, gentlemen ought to explain their virtues upon a first acquaintance, to prevent mistakes. "God bless you, Manning. Take my trifling as trifling; and believe me, seriously and deeply,-Your well-wisher and friend, "C. L." The following letter was addressed to Coleridge shortly after he had left London on a visit to Wordsworth, who in the meantime had settled on the borders of Grasmere. TO MR. COLERIDGE. "Aug. 6th, 1800. "Dear Coleridge,-I have taken to-day, with my friend to a certain extent, I shall and delivered to L. & Co., Imprimis: your ever like to keep some tenets, and some books, viz., three ponderous German diction |