The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb Volume VI Part 59

Yours heartily, C.L.

Our joint kindest Loves to A.K. and your Daughter.

[Barton's new book was _A New Year's Eve and other Poems_, 1828, dedicated to Charles Richard Sumner, Bishop of Winchester. This volume contains Barton's "Fireside Quatrains to Charles Lamb" (quoted in Vol.

IV.) and also the following "Sonnet to a Nameless Friend," whom I take to be Lamb:--

SONNET TO A NAMELESS FRIEND

In each successive tome that bears _my_ name Hast thou, though veiled _thy own_ from public eyes, Won from my muse that willing sacrifice Which worth and talents such as thine should claim: And I should close my minstrel task with shame, Could I forget the indissoluble ties Which every grateful thought of thee supplies To one who deems thy friendship more than fame.

Accept then, thus imperfectly, once more, The homage of thy poet and thy friend; And should thy partial praise my lays commend, Versed as thou art in all the gentle lore Of English poesy's exhaustless store, Whom I most love they never can offend.

Martin's frontispiece represented Christ walking on the water. Lamb recalls his remarks in a previous letter about this painter, who though he never became Royal Architect was the originator of the present Thames Embankment. Macaulay, in his essay on Southey's edition of the _Pilgrim's Progress_, in the _Edinburgh_ for December, 1831, makes some very similar remarks about Martin and the way in which he would probably paint Lear.

In the poem "Lady Rachel Russell; or, A Roman Hero and an English Heroine Compared," Barton compared the act of Curtius, who leaped into the gulf in the Forum, with Lady Russell standing beside her lord.

Chalon was the painter of a portrait of Thomas Clarkson.

The "Battle of Gibeon" is a poem inspired by Martin's picture of Joshua; the last stanza runs thus:--

Made known by marvels awfully sublime!

Yet far more glorious in the Christian's sight Than these stern terrors of the olden time, The gentler splendours of that peaceful night, When opening clouds displayed, in vision bright, The heavenly host to Bethlehem's shepherd train, Shedding around them more than cloudless light!

"Glory to G.o.d on high!" their opening strain, Its chorus, "Peace on Earth!" its theme Messiah's reign!

"In the Lobster." Referring to that part of a lobster which is called Eve.

"The Elephant." Some mildly humorous verses "To an Elephant."

"As Sh. says of religion"--Shakespeare, I a.s.sume, in "Hamlet," III., 4, 47, 48:--

And sweet Religion makes A rhapsody of words.

I quote in the Appendix the poem which Lamb liked best. Barton had written a poem called "Syr Heron." This is Lord Thurlow's sonnet, of which Lamb was very fond. He quoted it in a note to his _Elia_ essay on the sonnets of Sidney in the _London Magazine_, and copied it into his alb.u.m:--

TO A BIRD, THAT HAUNTED THE WATERS OF LACKEN, IN THE WINTER

O melancholy Bird, a winter's day, Thou standest by the margin of the pool, And, taught by G.o.d, dost thy whole being school To Patience, which all evil can allay.

G.o.d has appointed thee the fish thy prey; And giv'n thyself a lesson to the fool Unthrifty, to submit to moral rule, And his unthinking course by thee to weigh.

There need not schools, nor the professor's chair, Though these be good, true wisdom to impart: He, who has not enough, for these, to spare, Of time, or gold, may yet amend his heart, And teach his soul, by brooks, and rivers fair: Nature is always wise in every part.

"Fludyer" was a poem to Sir Charles Fludyer on the devastation effected on his marine villa at Felixstowe by the encroachments of the sea. The answer to the enigma, Mrs. FitzGerald (Lucy Barton) told Canon Ainger, was not money but an auctioneer's hammer.

Here should come a letter from Lamb to Louisa Holcroft, dated December 5, 1828. Louisa Holcroft was a daughter of Thomas Holcroft, Lamb's friend, whose widow married Kenney. A good letter with some excellent nonsense about measles in it.]

LETTER 468

CHARLES LAMB TO CHARLES COWDEN CLARKE

[December, 1828.]

My dear three C.'s--The way from Southgate to Colney Hatch thro' the unfrequentedest Blackberry paths that ever concealed their coy bunches from a truant Citizen, we have accidentally fallen upon--the giant Tree by Cheshunt we have missed, but keep your chart to go by, unless you will be our conduct--at present I am disabled from further flights than just to skirt round Clay Hill, with a peep at the fine back woods, by strained tendons, got by skipping a skipping-rope at 53--heu mihi non sum qualis. But do you know, now you come to talk of walks, a ramble of four hours or so--there and back--to the willow and lavender plantations at the south corner of Northaw Church by a well dedicated to Saint Claridge, with the clumps of finest moss rising hillock fashion, which I counted to the number of two hundred and sixty, and are called "Claridge's covers"--the tradition being that that saint entertained so many angels or hermits there, upon occasion of blessing the waters? The legends have set down the fruits spread upon that occasion, and in the Black Book of St. Albans some are named which are not supposed to have been introduced into this island till a century later. But waiving the miracle, a sweeter spot is not in ten counties round; you are knee deep in clover, that is to say, if you are not above a middling man's height; from this paradise, making a day of it, you go to see the ruins of an old convent at March Hall, where some of the painted gla.s.s is yet whole and fresh.

If you do not know this, you do not know the capabilities of this country, you may be said to be a stranger to Enfield. I found it out one morning in October, and so delighted was I that I did not get home before dark, well a-paid.

I shall long to show you the clump meadows, as they are called; we might do that, without reaching March Hall. When the days are longer, we might take both, and come home by Forest Cross, so skirt over Pennington and the cheerful little village of Churchley to Forty Hill.

But these are dreams till summer; meanwhile we should be most glad to see you for a lesser excursion--say, Sunday next, you and _another_, or if more, best on a weekday with a notice, but o' Sundays, as far as a leg of mutton goes, most welcome. We can squeeze out a bed. Edmonton coaches run every hour, and my pen has run out its quarter. Heartily farewell.

[Much of the "Lamb country" touched upon in this letter is now built on.

In my large edition I give a map of Lamb's favourite walking region.

"The giant Tree by Cheshunt" is Goff's Oak.

"The Black Book of St. Albans." The Black Books exposed abuses in the church.]

LETTER 469

CHARLES LAMB TO T.N. TALFOURD

[No date. End of 1828.]

Dear Talfourd,--You could not have told me of a more friendly thing than you have been doing. I am proud of my namesake. I shall take care never to do any dirty action, pick pockets, or anyhow get myself hanged, for fear of reflecting ignominy upon your young Chrisom. I have now a motive to be good. I shall not _omnis moriar_;--my name borne down the black gulf of oblivion.

I shall survive in eleven letters, five more than Caesar. Possibly I shall come to be knighted, or more: Sir C.L. Talfourd, Bart.!

Yet hath it an authorish tw.a.n.g with it, which will wear out my name for poetry. Give him a smile from me till I see him. If you do not drop down before, some day in the _week after next_ I will come and take one night's lodging with you, if convenient, before you go hence. You shall name it. We are in town to-morrow _speciali gratia_, but by no arrangement can get up near you.

Believe us both, with greatest regards, yours and Mrs. Talfourd's.

CHARLES LAMB-PHILO-TALFOURD

I come as near it as I can.

[This may be incorrectly dated, but I place it here because in that to Hood of December 17, summarised above, Lamb speaks of his G.o.dson at Brighton.

Talfourd (who himself dates this letter 1829) had named his latest child Charles Lamb Talfourd. The boy lived only until 1835. I quote in the Appendix the verses which Talfourd wrote on his death. Another of Lamb's name children, Charles Lamb Kenney, grew to man's estate and became a ready writer.]

LETTER 470

CHARLES LAMB TO GEORGE DYER