will cost you threepence,1 which your aunt Mary will pay you, & then she will owe me ninepence, from the old shilling she lost, as she says, in the sawpit. My sister joins me in remembces to you all. "C. LAMB. “I hope your sweetheart's name is WHITE. Else it will spoil all. May be 'tis Black. Then we must alter it. And may your fortunes BLACKEN with your name." The following is Lamb's letter of acknowledgment to the author of the "Pleasures of Memory," for an early copy of the second illustrated edition of his Poems, 1833, of a share in the publication of which Mr. Moxon was "justly vain." The artistic allusions are to Stothard; the poet's own kindnesses need no explanation to those who have been enabled by circumstances to become acquainted with the generous course of his life. TO MR. ROGERS. "Dec. 1833. "My dear Sir,-Your book, by the unremitting punctuality of your publisher, has reached me thus early. I have not opened it, nor will till to-morrow, when I promise myself a thorough reading of it. The 'Pleasures of Memory' was the first school-present I made to Mrs. Moxon; it has those nice woodcuts, and I believe she keeps it still. Believe me, that all the kindness you have shown to the husband of that excellent person seems done unto myself. I have tried my hand at a sonnet in the 'Times.' But the turn I gave it, though I hoped it would not displease you, I thought might not be equally agreeable to your artist. I met that dear old man at poor Henry's with you, and again at Cary's; and it was sublime to see him sit, deaf, and enjoy 1 [The postage from Edmonton.] 2 2 [Henry Rogers, brother of the poet. Compare letters to Moxon of May 12, 1830, and August, 1831.] all that was going on in mirth with the company. He reposed upon the many graceful, many fantastic images he had created; with them he dined and took wine. I have ventured at an antagonist copy of verses in the 'Athenæum to him, in which he is as everything, and you as nothing. He is no lawyer who cannot take two sides. But I am jealous of the combination of the sister arts. Let them sparkle apart. What injury (short of the theatres) did not Boydell's Shakspeare Gallery do me with Shakspeare? to have Opie's Shakspeare, Northcote's Shakspeare, lightheaded Fuseli's Shakspeare, heavy-headed Romney's Shakspeare, wooden-headed West's Shakspeare (though he did the best in Lear), deaf-headed Reynolds's Shakspeare, instead of my and everybody's Shakspeare; to be tied down to an authentic face of Juliet! to have Imogen's portrait ! to confine the illimitable! I like you and Stothard (you best), but out upon this half-faced fellowship!' Sir, when I have read the book, I may trouble you, through Moxon, with some faint criticisms. It is not the flatteringest compliment in a letter to an author to say, you have not read his book yet. But the devil of a reader he must be, who prances through it in five minutes; and no longer have I received the parcel. It was a little tantalising to me to receive a letter from Landor, Gebir Landor, from Florence, to say he was just sitting down to read my 'Elia,' just received: but the letter was to go out before the reading. There are calamities in authorship which only authors know. I am going to call on Moxon on Monday, if the throng of carriages in Dover-street, on the morn of publication, do not barricade me out. 6 “With many thanks and most respectful remembrances to your sister, "Yours, "C. LAMB. "Have you seen Coleridge's happy exemplification in English of the Ovidian Elegiac metre? "In the Hexameter rises the fountain's silvery current, "My sister is papering up the book, careful soul ! He had not lost his thoughtful consideration for literary friends, and remembered that Forster was at work on Edmund Kean when he met someone in the course of his rambles about Edmonton, who had known Kean, and gave the name of an acquaintance who knew that great actor yet better than himself. TO MR. MOXON. "[Edmonton], Jan. 28, 1834. “I met with a man at my half-way house, who told me many anecdotes of Kean's younger life. He knew him thoroughly. His name is Wyatt, living near the Bell, Edmonton. Also he referred me to West, a publican opposite St. George's Church, Southwark, who knew him more intimately. Is it worth Forster's while to enquire after them? "C. L. "E. Moxon, Esq., "Dover Street, "Piccadilly." CHAPTER XXI. LETTERS TO MISS FRYER, WORDSWORTH, CARY, ETC.—DEATH OF COLERIDGE-LAST LETTERS THE MEETING AT TALFOURD'S BETWEEN LAMB AND SOME OF HIS SURVIVING ASSOCIATES. L [1834.] AMB and his sister were now, for the last year of their united lives, always together. What his feelings were in this companionship, when his beloved associate was deprived of reason, will be seen in the following most affecting letter to an old schoolfellow and very dear friend of Mrs. Moxon's-long since dead-who took an earnest interest in their welfare. TO MISS MARIA FRYER. "Feb. 14, 1834. "Dear Miss Fryer,-Your letter found me just returned from keeping my birthday (pretty innocent!) at Doverstreet. I see them pretty often. I have since had letters of business to write, or should have replied earlier. In one word, be less uneasy about me; I bear my privations very well; I am not in the depths of desolation, as heretofore. Your admonitions are not lost upon me. Your kindness has sunk into my heart. Have faith in me! It is no new thing for me to be left to my sister. When she is not violent, her rambling chat is better to me than the sense and sanity of this world. Her heart is obscured, not buried; it breaks out occasionally; and one can discern a strong mind struggling with the billows that have gone over it. I could be nowhere happier than under the same roof with her. Her memory is unnaturally strong; and from ages past, if we may so call the earliest records of our poor life, she fetches thousands of names and things that never would have dawned upon me again, and thousands from the ten years she lived before me. What took place from early girlhood to her coming of age principally lives again (every important thing and every trifle) in her brain with the vividness of real presence. For twelve hours incessantly she will pour out without intermission all her past life, forgetting nothing, pouring out name after name to the Waldens as a dream; sense and nonsense; truths and errors huddled together; a medley between inspiration and possession. What things we are! I know you will bear with me, talking of these things. It seems to ease me; for I have nobody to tell these things to now. Emma, I see, has got a harp! and is learning to play. She has framed her three Walton pictures, and pretty they look. That is a book you should read; such sweet religion in itnext to Woolman's! though the subject be baits and hooks, and worms, and fishes. She has my copy at present to do two more from. 66 Very, very tired, I began this epistle, having been epistolising all the morning, and very kindly would I end it, could I find adequate expressions to your kindness. We did set our minds on seeing you in spring. One of us will indubitably. But I am not skilled in almanac learning, to know when spring precisely begins and ends. Pardon my blots; I am glad you like your book. I wish it had been half as worthy of your acceptance as John Woolman.' But 'tis a good-natured book." , 1 A few days afterwards Lamb's passionate desire to help a most deserving friend broke out in the following earnest little letter, which possesses the additional interest of being the last addressed to Wordsworth. TO MR. WORDSWORTH. "Church Street, Edmonton. "Feb. 22, 1834. A "Dear Wordsworth,-I write from a house of mourning. The oldest and best friends I have left are in trouble. branch of them (and they of the best stock of God's crea 1 [See the letter of Jan. 5, 1797. old acquaintance.] "Woolman's Journal" was a very |