'Unmeaning joy around appears, "It is ill with me when I begin to look which way the wind sits. Ten years ago, I literally did not know the point from the broad end of the vane, which it was that indicated the quarter. I hope these ill winds have blown over you as they do through me. "Šo A. K. keeps a school; she teaches nothing wrong, I'll answer for 't. I have a Dutch print of a school-mistress; little old-fashioned Fleminglings, with only one face among them. She a princess of a school-mistress, wielding a rod for form more than use; the scene, an old monastic chapel, with a Madonna over her head, looking just as serious, as thoughtful, as pure, as gentle as herself. 'Tis a type of thy friend. "Yours with kindest wishes to your daughter and friend,' in which Mary joins, "C. LAMB." CHAPTER X. CORRESPONDENCE WITH HAZLITT, COLERIDGE, BARTON, MOXON, HONE, ALLSOP, HAYDON, AND NOVELLO. TH [1826-7.] HE letters which we now give belong to the summer and latter half of 1826, and the earlier half of the following year. In the first there is an agreeable little reminiscence of the old evenings at Mitre Court Buildings. 6 TO WILLIAM HAZLITT.1 [1826.] "Dear H.,-Lest you sha come to-morrow, I write to say that Mary is ill again. The last thing she read was the Thursday Nights,' which seem'd to give her unmix'd delight, & she was sorry for what she said to you that night. The Article2 is a treasure to us for ever. Stoddart sent over the magazR to know if it were yours, and says it is better than Hogarth's 'Mod. Midn. Conversation,' with several other most kind mentions of it: he signs his note An old Mitre Courtian. 66 Saturday." [Endorsed :] "W. Hazlitt, Esq.," [In a second hand :] "10, Southampton Buildings." "C. LAMB. About this time a little sketch was taken of Lamb by his friend, Mr. Brook Pulham, of the India House, and [Now first printed.] 2[" On Persons one would wish to have Seen," in the " New Monthly Magazine" for 1826. I have already mentioned that the Lambs, on their removal, in 1817, from the Temple to Russell Street, Covent Garden, changed their reception night from Wednesday to Thursday.] published. It is certainly not flattering; but there is a touch of Lamb's character in it. He sent one of the prints to Coleridge with the following note, which seems to have been written while he was still unaware of the name of the artist. TO MR. COLERIDGE. "June 1st, 1826. "Dear Coleridge,-If I know myself, nobody more detests the display of personal vanity which is implied in the act of sitting for one's picture than myself. But the fact is, that the likeness which accompanies this letter was stolen from my person at one of my unguarded moments by some too partial artist, and my friends are pleased to think that he has not much flattered me. Whatever its merits may be, you, who have so great an interest in the original, will have a satisfaction in tracing the features of one that has so long esteemed you. There are times when in a friend's absence these graphic representations of him almost seem to bring back the man himself. The painter, whoever he was, seems to have taken me in one of those disengaged moments, if I may so term them, when the native character is so much more honestly displayed than can be possible in the restraints of an enforced sitting attitude. Perhaps it rather describes me as a thinking man than a man in the act of thought. Whatever its pretensions, I know it will be dear to you, towards whom I should wish my thoughts to flow in a sort of an undress rather than in the more studied graces of diction. "I am, dear Coleridge, yours sincerely, "C. LAMB." A letter to Mr. Coleridge, one of the masters of Eton, and afterwards Vicar of Mapledurham, near Reading (a living in the gift of the College), thanking him for a service which he had performed, is the only one addressed to a member of the family otherwise than Coleridge himself. Mr. J. B. Bloxam, writing to a former possessor of the original, says: "Your letter of Charles Lamb is very interesting to me. Samuel Anthony Bloxam was my uncle. He was residing at Windsor in 1827-8, where I paid him a visit at the house of the masters. His son Frederick was then on the foundation at Eton, probably through Mr. Coleridge, at Lamb's request. "Both he and Lamb were educated at Christ's Hospital, and very probably contemporaries. His daughter is a Sister of Mercy, or whatever they call it, at St. Thomas's, Oxford." TO THE REV. EDWARD COLERIDGE. "Dear Sir,—It was not till to-day that I learned the extent of your kindness to my friend's child. I never meant to ask a favour of that magnitude. I begged a civility merely, not an important benefit. But you have done it, and S. T. C., who is about writing to you, will tell you better than I can how I feel upon the occasion. It is an alleviation to any uneasy sense of obligation, which will sometimes be uppermost, to reflect that you could not have served a more worthy creature than I believe Samuel Bloxam to be. That must be my poor comfort. "I remain, "Your faithful beadsman, "In less honest phrase, tho' less homely. "CH. LAMB. "Colebrooke Cottage, 19th July, 1826." [Endorsed :] "The Rev. Edward Coleridge, Eton College, Berks." Barton must have looked forward with immense zest to the letters, which his un-Quakerish friend showered so unstintingly upon him during all these years. The post was invested with a new charm. The next which we have is unusually rich in literary gossip, and introduces Mr. Mitford busily engaged in those studies which he loved, and with which his memory is honourably connected, although he was not only, as Lamb gently hints, a careless corrector of the press, but a negligent editor. TO BERNARD BARTON. 66 1826. "Dear B. B.,-The Busy Bee, as Hood, after Dr. Watts, apostrophises thee, and well dost thou deserve it for thy labours in the Muses' gardens, wandering over parterres of Think-on-mes and Forget-me-nots, to a total impossibility of forgetting thee,-thy letter was acceptable, thy scruples may be dismissed, thou art rectus in curia: not a word more to be said-verbum sapienti, and so forth: the matter is decided with a white stone classically, mark me, and the apparitions vanish'd which haunted me, only the cramp, Caliban's distemper, clawing me in the calvish part of my nature, makes me ever and anon roar bullishly, squeak cowardishly, and limp cripple-ishly. Do I write quakerly and simply, 'tis my most Master Mathews-like intention to do it. See Ben Johnson.-I think you told me your acquaintance with the Drama was confin'd to Shakspeare and Miss Baillie: some read only Milton and Croly. The gap is as from an ananas to a turnip. I have fighting in my head the plots, characters, situations, and sentiments of 400 old plays (bran-new to me) which I have been digesting at the Museum; and my appetite sharpens to twice as many more, which I mean to course over this winter. scarce avoid dialogue fashion in this letter. I soliloquise my meditations, and habitually speak dramatic blank verse without meaning it. Do you see Mitford? He will tell you something of my labours. Tell him I am sorry to have missed seeing him, to have talked over those old Treasures. I am still more sorry for his missing Pots. But I shall be sure of the earliest intelligence of the Lost Tribes. His Sacred Specimens are a thankful addition to my shelves. Marry, I could wish he had been more careful of corrigenda. I have discover'd certain which have slipt his errata. I put 'em in the next page, as perhaps thou canst transmit them to him. For what purpose, but to grieve him (which yet I should be sorry to do); but then it shows my learning, and the excuse is complimentary, as it implies their correction in a future edition. His own things in the book are magnificent, and as an old Christ's Hospitaller I was particularly refresh'd with his eulogy on our Edward.1 Many of the choice ex1 [Edward VI., founder of the Blue Coat School.] I can |