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Speght, prefixed to the black letter folio of Chaucer_, 1598.
Yours in haste (salt fish waiting), C. LAMB.
[Haydon's picture was his "Alexander and Bucephalus." The two Bucks, he tells us in his _Diary_, were the Duke of Devonshire and Mr. Agar Ellis.
Haydon did not take up the Chaucer subject.]
LETTER 410
CHARLES LAMB TO WILLIAM HONE [No date. April, 1827.]
Dear H. Never come to our house and not come in. I was quite vex'd.
Yours truly. C.L.
There is in Blackwood this month an article MOST AFFECTING indeed called Le Revenant, and would do more towards abolishing Capital Punishments than 400000 Romillies or Montagues. I beg you read it and see if you can extract any of it. _The Trial scene in particular_.
[Written on the fourteenth instalment of the Garrick Play extracts. The article was in _Blackwood_ for April, 1827. Hone took Lamb's advice, and the extract from it will be found in the _Table Book_, Vol. I., col.
455.
Lamb was peculiarly interested in the subject of survival after hanging.
He wrote an early _Reflector_ essay, "On the Inconveniences of Being Hanged," on the subject, and it is the pivot of his farce "The p.a.w.nbroker's Daughter."
"Romillies or Montagues." Two prominent advocates for the abolition of capital punishment were Sir Samuel Romilly (who died in 1818) and Basil Montagu.]
LETTER 411
CHARLES LAMB TO THOMAS HOOD
[No date. May, 1827.]
Dearest Hood,--Your news has spoil'd us a merry meeting. Miss Kelly and we were coming, but your letter elicited a flood of tears from Mary, and I saw she was not fit for a party. G.o.d bless you and the mother (or should be mother) of your sweet girl that should have been. I have won s.e.xpence of Moxon by the _s.e.x_ of the dear gone one.
Yours most truly and hers,
[C.L.]
[This note refers to one of the Hoods' children, which was still-born.
It was upon this occasion that Lamb wrote the beautiful lines "On an Infant Dying as soon as Born" (see Vol. IV.).]
LETTER 412
CHARLES LAMB TO BERNARD BARTON
[No date. (1827.)]
My dear B.B.--A gentleman I never saw before brought me your welcome present--imagine a sc.r.a.ping, fiddling, fidgetting, pet.i.t-maitre of a dancing school advancing into my plain parlour with a coupee and a sideling bow, and presenting the book as if he had been handing a gla.s.s of lemonade to a young miss--imagine this, and contrast it with the serious nature of the book presented! Then task your imagination, reversing this picture, to conceive of quite an opposite messenger, a lean, straitlocked, wheyfaced methodist, for such was he in reality who brought it, the Genius (it seems) of the Wesleyan Magazine. Certes, friend B., thy Widow's tale is too horrible, spite of the lenitives of Religion, to embody in verse: I hold prose to be the appropriate expositor of such atrocities! No offence, but it is a cordial that makes the heart sick. Still thy skill in compounding it I not deny. I turn to what gave me less mingled pleasure. I find markd with pencil these pages in thy pretty book, and fear I have been penurious.
page 52, 53 capital.
page 59 6th stanza exquisite simile.
page 61 11th stanza equally good.
page 108 3d stanza, I long to see van Balen.
page 111 a downright good sonnet. _Dixi_.
page 153 Lines at the bottom.
So you see, I read, hear, and _mark_, if I don't learn--In short this little volume is no discredit to any of your former, and betrays none of the Senility you fear about. Apropos of Van Balen, an artist who painted me lately had painted a Blackamoor praying, and not filling his canvas, stuff'd in his little girl aside of Blacky, gaping at him unmeaningly; and then didn't know what to call it. Now for a picture to be promoted to the Exhibition (Suffolk Street) as HISTORICAL, a subject is requisite. What does me? I but christen it the "Young Catechist" and furbishd it with Dialogue following, which dubb'd it an Historical Painting. Nothing to a friend at need.
While this tawny Ethiop prayeth, Painter, who is She that stayeth By, with skin of whitest l.u.s.tre; Sunny locks, a shining cl.u.s.ter; Saintlike seeming to direct him To the Power that must protect him?
Is she of the heav'nborn Three, Meek Hope, strong Faith, sweet Charity?
Or some Cherub?
They you mention Far transcend my weak invention.
'Tis a simple Christian child, Missionary young and mild, From her store of script'ral knowledge (Bible-taught without a college) Which by reading she could gather, Teaches him to say OUR FATHER To the common Parent, who Colour not respects nor hue.
White and Black in him have part, Who looks not to the skin, but heart.--
When I'd done it, the Artist (who had clapt in Miss merely as a fill-s.p.a.ce) swore I exprest his full meaning, and the damosel bridled up into a Missionary's vanity. I like verses to explain Pictures: seldom Pictures to ill.u.s.trate Poems. Your wood cut is a rueful Lignum Mortis.
By the by, is the widow likely to marry again?
I am giving the fruit of my Old Play reading at the Museum to Hone, who sets forth a Portion weekly in the Table Book. Do you see it? How is Mitford?--
I'll just hint that the Pitcher, the Chord and the Bowl are a little too often repeated (_pa.s.sim_) in your Book, and that on page 17 last line but 4 _him_ is put for _he_, but the poor widow I take it had small leisure for grammatical niceties. Don't you see there's _He, myself_, and _him_; why not both _him_? likewise _imperviously_ is cruelly spelt _imperiously_. These are trifles, and I honestly like your [book,] and you for giving it, tho' I really am ashamed of so many presents.
I can think of no news, therefore I will end with mine and Mary's kindest remembrances to you and yours. C.L.
[It has been customary to date this letter December, 1827, but I think that must be too late. Lamb would never have waited till then to tell Barton that he was contributing the Garrick Plays to Hone's _Table Book_, especially as the last instalment was printed in that month.
Barton's new volume was _A Widow's Tale and Other Poems_, 1827. The t.i.tle poem tells how a missionary and his wife were wrecked, and how after three nights and days of horror she was saved. The woodcut on the t.i.tle-page of Barton's book represented the widow supporting her dead or dying husband in the midst of the storm.
This is the "exquisite simile" on page 59, from "A Grandsire's Tale":--
Though some might deem her pensive, if not sad, Yet those who knew her better, best could tell How calmly happy, and how meekly glad Her quiet heart in its own depths did dwell: Like to the waters of some crystal well, In which the stars of heaven at noon are seen.
Fancy might deem on her young spirit fell Glimpses of light more glorious and serene Than that of life's brief day, so heavenly was her mien.
This was the "downright good sonnet":--
TO A GRANDMOTHER
"Old age is dark and unlovely."--Ossian.
O say not so! A bright old age is thine; Calm as the gentle light of summer eves, Ere twilight dim her dusky mantle weaves; Because to thee is given, in strength's decline, A heart that does not thanklessly repine At aught of which the hand of G.o.d bereaves, Yet all He sends with grat.i.tude receives;-- May such a quiet, thankful close be mine.