The "Farewell to Tobacco" was shortly after transmitted to Mr. and Miss Wordsworth with the following: TO MR. AND MISS WORDSWORTH. which is as much as you can expect from a friend's wife, whom you got acquainted with a bachelor. Some things too about Monkey,* which can't so well be written: how it set up for a fine lady, and thought it had got "Sept. 28th, 1805. lovers, and was obliged to be convinced of its "I wish you may think this a handsome age from the parish register, where it was farewell to my 'Friendly Traitress.' Tobacco proved to be only twelve; and an edict has been my evening comfort and my morning issued, that it should not give itself airs yet curse for these five years; and you know these four years; and how it got leave to be how difficult it is from refraining to pick called Miss, by grace: these, and such like one's lips even, when it has become a habit. hows, were in my head to tell you, but who This poem is the only one which I have can write? Also how Manning is come to finished since so long as when I wrote town in spectacles, and studies physic; is 'Hester Savory.' I have had it in my head melancholy, and seems to have something in to do it these two years, but tobacco stood in his head, which he don't impart. Then, how its own light when it gave me headaches that I am going to leave off smoking. O la! your prevented my singing its praises. Now you Leonardos of Oxford made my mouth water. have got it, you have got all my store, for II was hurried through the gallery, and they have absolutely not another line. No more escaped me. What do I say? I was a Goth has Mary. We have nobody about us that then, and should not have noticed them. I cares for poetry, and who will rear grapes had not settled my notions of beauty;-I when he shall be the sole eater? Perhaps if have now for ever!—the small head, the you encourage us to show you what we may long eye,-that sort of peering curve,-the write, we may do something now and then wicked Italian mischief; the stick-at-nothing, before we absolutely forget the quantity of Herodias' daughter-kind of grace. You unan English line for want of practice. The derstand me? But you disappoint me, in 'Tobacco,' being a little in the way of passing over in absolute silence the Blenheim Withers (whom Southey so much likes), Leonardo. Didn't you see it? Excuse a perhaps you will somehow convey it to him lover's curiosity. I have seen no pictures of with my kind remembrances. Then, every- note since, except Mr. Dawe's gallery. It is body will have seen it that I wish to see it, curious to see how differently two great men I having sent it to Malta. treat the same subject, yet both excellent in their way. For instance, Milton and Mr. Dawe. Mr. D. has chosen to illustrate the story of Samson exactly in the point of view in which Milton has been most happy: "I remain, dear W. and D., yours truly, "C. LAMB." The following letter to Hazlitt bears date the interview between the Jewish hero, 18th Nov. 1805: TO MR. HAZLITT. blind and captive, and Dalilah. Milton has imagined his locks grown again, strong as horse-hair or porcupine's bristles; doubtless shaggy and black, as being hairs which, of a nation armed, contained the strength.' I don't remember he says black; but could Milton imagine them to be yellow? Do you? Mr. Dawe, with striking originality of conception, has crowned him with a thin yellow wig, in colour precisely like Dyson's; "Dear Hazlitt,-I was very glad to hear from you, and that your journey was so picturesque. We miss you, as we foretold we should. One or two things have happened, which are beneath the dignity of epistolary communication, but which, seated about our fireside at night, (the winter hands of pork have begun,) gesture and emphasis might in curl and quantity, resembling Mrs. P-'s; have talked into some importance. Some- his limbs rather stout,-about such a man thing about -'s wife; for instance, how as my brother or Rickman,-but no Atlas nor Hercules, nor yet so long as Dubois, the tall she is, and that she visits pranked up like a Queen of the May, with green streamers: a good-natured woman though, * The daughter of a friend, whom Lamb exceedingly liked from a child, and always called by this epithet. C. LAMB." clown of Sadler's Wells. This was judicious, and franks. Luck to Ned Search and the taking the spirit of the story rather than new art of colouring. Monkey sends her the fact; for doubtless God could communi- love; and Mary especially. cate national salvation to the trust of flax "Yours truly, and tow as well as hemp and cordage, and could draw down a temple with a golden tress as soon as with all the cables of the British navy. Lamb introduced Hazlitt to Godwin; and we find him early in the following year thus writing respecting the offer of Hazlitt's work to Johnson, and his literary pursuits. TO MR. HAZLITT. "Jan. 15th, 1806. "Wasn't you sorry for Lord Nelson? I have followed him in fancy ever since I saw him walking in Pall Mall, (I was prejudiced against him before,) looking just as a hero should look; and I have been very much cut about it indeed. He was the only pre- "Dear Hazlitt,-Godwin went to Johnson's tence of a great man we had. Nobody is yesterday about your business. Johnson left of any name at all. His secretary died would not come down, or give any answer, by his side. I imagined him, a Mr. Scott, to but has promised to open the manuscript, be the man you met at Hume's; but I learnt and to give you an answer in one month. from Mrs. Hume that it is not the same. I Godwin will punctually go again (Wednesday met Mrs. H. one day and agreed to go on is Johnson's open day) yesterday four weeks the Sunday to tea, but the rain prevented us, next: i. e. in one lunar month from this and the distance. I have been to apologise, time. Till when, Johnson positively declines and we are to dine there the first fine giving any answer. I wish you joy on ending Sunday! Strange perverseness. I never your Search. Mrs. H. was naming somewent while you stayed here, and now I go to thing about a 'Life of Fawcett,' to be by find you. What other news is there, Mary? you undertaken : the great Fawcett, as she What puns have I made in the last fort- explained to Manning, when he asked, ' What night? You never remember them. You Fawcett?' He innocently thought Fawcett have no relish of the comic. 'Oh! tell the Player. But Fawcett the divine is known Hazlitt not to forget to send the American to many people, albeit unknown to the Farmer. I dare say it is not so good as he Chinese inquirer. I should think, if you fancies; but a book's a book.' I have not liked it, and Johnson declined it, that Phillips heard from Wordsworth or from Malta since. is the man. He is perpetually bringing out Charles Kemble, it seems, enters into pos- biographies, Richardson, Wilks, Foot, Lee session to-morrow. We sup at 109, Russell- Lewis, without number: little trim things street, this evening. I wish your friend in two easy volumes, price 12s. the two, made would not drink. It's a blemish in the up of letters to and from, scraps, posthumous greatest characters. You send me a modern trifles, anecdotes, and about forty pages of quotation poetical. How do you like this in hard biography; you might dish up a Fawan old play? Vittoria Corombona, a spunky cettiad in three months and ask 601. or 80%. Italian lady, a Leonardo one, nick-named for it. I dare say that Phillips would catch the White Devil, being on her trial for at it. I wrote you the other day in a great murder, &c.—and questioned about seducing hurry. Did you get it? This is merely a a duke from his wife and the state, makes letter of business at Godwin's request. Lord Nelson is quiet at last. His ghost only keeps a slight fluttering in odes and elegies in newspapers, and impromptus, which could not be got ready before the funeral. answer: 'Condemn you me for that the Duke did love me? "N. B. I shall expect a line from you, if but a bare line, whenever you write to Russell-street, and a letter often when you do not. I pay no postage. But I will have consideration for you until Parliament time "As for news, is coming to town on Monday (if no kind angel intervene) to surrender himself to prison. He hopes to get the rules of the Fleet. On the same, or nearly the same day, F-, my other quondam co-friend and drinker, will go to Newgate, and his wife and four children, I suppose, to Gallery. Don't your mouth water to be here? T' other night Loftus called, whom we have not seen since you went before. We meditate a stroll next Wednesday, fastday. He happened to light upon Mr. Holcroft, wife, and daughter, their first visit at our house. Your brother called last night. We keep up our intimacy. He is going to begin a large Madonna and child from Mrs. H. and baby. I fear he goes astray after ignes fatui. He is a clever man. By-the-by I saw a miniature of his as far excelling any in his show cupboard (that of your sister not excepted) as that show cupboard excels the show things you see in windows-an old woman-hang her name—but most superlative; he has it to clean-I'll ask him the name-but the best miniature I ever saw. But for oil pictures !-what has he to do with Madonnas?—if the Virgin Mary were alive and visitable, he would not hazard himself in a Covent-Garden-pit-door-crowd to see her. It an't his style of beauty, is it? But he will go on painting things he ought not to paint, and not painting things he ought to paint. Manning not gone to China, but talks of going this spring. God forbid. Coleridge not heard of. I am going to leave off smoke. In the meantime I am so smoky with last night's ten pipes, that I must leave off. Mary begs her kind remembrances. Pray write to us. This is no letter, but I supposed you grew anxious about Johnson. "N. B. Have taken a room at three shillings a-week, to be in between five and eight at night, to avoid my nocturnal alias knocketernal visitors. The first-fruits of my retirement has been a farce which goes to manager to-morrow. Wish my ticket luck. God bless you and do write.-Yours, fumosissimus, "C. LAMB." "Dear H.-Godwin has just been here in his way from Johnson's. Johnson has had a fire in his house; this happened about five weeks ago; it was in the day-time, so it did not burn the house down, but it did so much damage that the house must come down, to be repaired. His nephew that we met on Hampstead Hill put it out. Well, this fire has put him so back, that he craves one more month before he gives you an answer. I will certainly goad Godwin (if necessary) to go again this very day four weeks; but I am confident he will want no goading. Three or The farce referred to in the foregoing four most capital auctions of pictures adver- letter is the delightful jeu-d'esprit, " MR. H.,” tised in May, Wellbore Ellis Agar's, the first destined to only one night's stage existence, private collection in England, so Holcroft but to become "good jest for ever." It must says. In March, Sir George Young's in be confessed that it has not substance enough Stratford-place (where Cosway lives), and a for a dramatic piece in two acts—a piece Mr. Hulse's at Blackheath, both very capital which must present a show of real interest— collections, and have been announced for involve its pair of young lovers in actual some months. Also the Marquis of Lans- perplexities—and terminate in the seriousdowne's pictures in March; and though infe- ness of marriage! It would be rare sport rior to mention, lastly, the Tructhsessian in Milton's "Limbo of Vanity," but is too 66 'I am, sir, your obedient servant, [Dated] '66, Gower Street, 'Wednesday, June 11, 1806.' "On the following Sunday Mr. Tobin comes. The scent of a manager's letter brought him. He would have gone further airy for the ponderous sentimentalism of a few days, as the same is not in my hands, the modern school of farce. As Swift, in but with the proprietors. Gulliver," brings everything to the standard of size, so in this farce everything is reduced to an alphabetical standard. Humour is sent to school to learn its letters; or, rather, letters are made instinct with the most delicate humour. It is the apotheosis of the alphabet, and teaches the value of a good name without the least hint of moral purpose. This mere pleasantry—this refining on sounds and letters-this verbal banter, and watery collision of the pale reflexions of words, could not succeed on a stage which had fell upon pieces, different sorts of pieces; Our conversation naturally begun to require interest, moral or immoral, what is the best way of offering a piece, how to be interwoven with the web of all its far the caprice of managers is an obstacle in actions; which no longer rejoiced in the riot the way of a piece, how to judge of the of animal spirits and careless gaiety; which merits of a piece, how long a piece may no longer permitted wit to take the sting remain in the hands of the managers before from evil, as well as the load from care; but it is acted; and my piece, and your piece, infected even its prince of rakes, Charles and my poor brother's piece-my poor Surface, with a cant of sentiment which brother was all his life endeavouring to get a piece accepted. makes us turn for relief to the more honest hypocrite his brother. Mr. H. "could never do;" but its composition was pleasant, and its acceptance gave Lamb some of the happiest moments he ever spent. Thus he announces it to Wordsworth, in reply to a letter communicating to him that the poet was a father. TO MR. WORDSWORTH. "Dear Wordsworth,-We are pleased, you may be sure, with the good news of Mrs. W Hope all is well over by this time. 'A fine boy!-have you any more, -one more and a girl-poor copies of me!' vide MR. H., a farce which the proprietors have done me the honour; but I will set down Mr. Wroughton's own words. N. B. The ensuing letter was sent in answer to one which I wrote, begging to know if my piece had any chance, as I might make alterations, &c. I, writing on Monday, there comes this letter on the Wednesday. Attend! any day on such a business. I read the letter to him. He deems it authentic and peremptory. "I think this will be as good a pattern for orders as I can think on. A little thin flowery border, round, neat, not gaudy, and the Drury-lane Apollo, with the harp at the top. Or shall I have no Apollo ?—simply [Copy of a Letter from Mr. R. Wroughton.] nothing? Or perhaps the comic muse? "The same form, only I think without the Apollo, will serve for the pit and galleries. I think it will be best to write my name at full length; but then if I give away a great many, that will be tedious. Perhaps Ch. Lamb will do. "BOXES, now I think on it, I'll have in 1 C. L." The interval between the completion of the farce, "and its first acting," though full of bright hopes of dramatic success, was not all a phantom. The following two letters to Mr. Rickman, now one of the Clerks of the House of Commons, show Lamb's unwearied kindness. TO MR. RICKMAN. capitals. The rest, in a neat Italian hand. doing your commission will prove we do not Or better, perhaps Borts, in old English quite forget you. characters, like Madoc or Thalaba? "A-propos of Spenser (you will find him mentioned a page or two before, near enough for an a-propos), I was discoursing on poetry (as one's apt to deceive one's self, and when a person is willing to talk of what one likes, to believe that he also likes the same, as lovers do) with a young gentleman of my office, who is deep read in Anacreon Moore, Lord Strangford, and the principal modern poets, and I happened to mention Epithalamiums, and that I could show him a very fine one of Spenser's. At the mention of this, my gentleman, who is a very fine gentleman, pricked up his ears and expressed great pleasure, and begged that I would give him leave to copy it he did not care how long it was (for I objected the length), he should be very happy to see anything by him. Then pausing, and looking sad, he ejaculated 'POOR SPENCER!' I begged to know the reason of his ejaculation, thinking that time had by this time softened down any calamities which the bard might have endured. 'Why, poor fellow!' said he, he has lost his wife!' 'Lost his wife!' said I, 'who are you talking of?' 'Why, Spencer!' said he; 'I've read the "Monody" he wrote on the occasion, and a very pretty thing it is.' This led to an explanation (it could be delayed no longer), that the sound Spenser, which, when poetry is talked of, generally excites an image of an old bard in a ruff, and sometimes with it dim notions of Sir P. Sydney, and perhaps Lord Burleigh, had raised in my gentleman a quite contrary image of the Honourable William Spencer, who has translated some things from the German very prettily, which are published with Lady Di. Beauclerk's designs. Nothing like defining of terms when we talk. What blunders might I have fallen into of quite inapplicable criticism, but for this timely explanation. "Dear Rickman,-You do not happen to have any place at your disposal which would suit a decayed Literatus? I do not much expect that you have, or that you will go much out of the way to serve the object, when you hear it is F. But the case is, by a mistaking of his turn, as they call it, he is reduced, I am afraid, to extremities, and would be extremely glad of a place in an office. Now it does sometimes happen, that just as a man wants a place, a place wants him; and though this is a lottery to which none but G. B. would choose to trust his all, there is no harm just to call in at Despair's office for a friend, and see if his number is come up (B.'s further case I enclose by way of episode). Now, if you should happen, or anybody you know, to want a hand, here is a young man of solid but not brilliant genius, who would turn his hand to the making out dockets, penning a manifesto, or scoring a tally, not the worse (I hope) for knowing Latin and Greek, and having in youth conversed with the philosophers. But from these follies I believe he is thoroughly awakened, and would bind himself by a terrible oath never to imagine himself an extraordinary genius again. "Yours, &c. TO MR. RICKMAN. C. LAMB." March, 1806. "N.B. At the beginning of Edm. Spenser, "Dear Rickman,-I send you some papers (to prevent mistakes,) I have copied from my about a salt-water soap, for which the own copy, and primarily from a book of inventor is desirous of getting a parliaChalmers' on Shakspeare, a sonnet of Spen-mentary reward, like Dr. Jenner. Whether ser's never printed among his poems. It is such a project be feasible, I mainly doubt, curious, as being manly, and rather Miltonic, taking for granted the equal utility. I should and as a sonnet of Spenser's with nothing suppose the usual way of paying such proin it about love or knighthood. I have no jectors is by patents and contracts. The room for remembrances; but I hope our patent, you see, he has got. A contract he |