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 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 CHARLES LAMB
 
 N.B. — The Frontispiece to this Volume is a 
 facsimile of Lamb's poem of " The Three 
 Graves " from an origijial mamiscript in the 
 possession of the Publisher.
 
 ^' ^^, e^j., wu^^ ^,^
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 BY 
 BERTRAM DOBELL 
 
 His office than the reaper's may be meaner, 
 But still some praise is due unto the gleaner 
 
 LONDON 
 PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR 
 
 77 CHARING CROSS ROAD, W.C. 
 NEW YORK: CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS- 
 
 1903
 
 Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co. 
 At the Ballantyne Press
 
 TO 
 
 E, V. LUCAS, ESQ. 
 
 Editor of 
 THE WORKS OF CHARLES AND MARY LAMB 
 
 A pleasant and a grateful task is thine. 
 
 Filling thy days with self 'rewarding toil. 
 And nights with dreams wherein two spirits shine 
 
 Scarce freer noiv than then from earthly soil. 
 Happy arc they thy loving care to gain, 
 
 Happy art thou whom fortune so has blest: 
 They would have loved thy cordial heart and brain. 
 
 And kinship to themselves in thee confessed. 
 
 Unlovely traits that cannot daylight bear 
 
 Too oft deep search in seeming goodness shows: 
 
 But thou mayst fearless seek, since only fair 
 
 Artions and thoughts thy delvings can disclose: 
 
 From every shadow of dishonour free, 
 
 Clear is their fame, and clear shall ever be.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 " Among prose writers the very greatest name 
 since Montaigne's is that of Charles Lamb. 
 It is not that these are so much better than all 
 others, but that in their own field of work they 
 are always at their best. Therefore to collect 
 every prose scrap of the most original, the most 
 whimsical, and the most quintessential of 
 English prose writers is to confer a boon upon 
 English readers. For there is not a single 
 newspaper paragraph by him in which the 
 reader may not expect to come upon some 
 delightful Lambism, rich with a flavour of 
 ' self-pleasing quaintness,' to be found nowhere 
 else." — The Athenceum, Jan, 12, 1878, 
 
 It was my intention to preface the following 
 work by offering some remarks which might 
 have been considered as an apology for one 
 of its leading features ; but when I was about 
 to sit down to the task, I chanced upon the 
 passage which I have just quoted. It says, in 
 
 vii
 
 PREFACE 
 
 substance, nearly all that I had intended to 
 say upon that point ; and it is better perhaps 
 that I should allow it to be said by another 
 than by myself. 
 
 It is, of course, quite possible to disagree 
 with the writer quoted as to Lamb's rank in 
 English literature, — for there are a good 
 many persons whom nature has not fitted to 
 become devoted Elians. These will certainly 
 demur — not indeed to the bracketing together 
 of Montaigne and Lamb — but to the exalta- 
 tion of the latter above all other prose writers. 
 That is a claim which Lamb certainly would 
 not have made for himself, and which it is not 
 necessary even for his most ardent admirers 
 to make for him. As Lamb said with regard 
 to Clarkson, " We shotild be modest for a 
 modest man, as he is for himself." But few, 
 I think, will disagree with the assertion that 
 to collect every scrap of Lamb's prose is to 
 confer a boon upon English readers. To 
 this I would add that it is surely no less a 
 service to collect every fact relating to him 
 or his works which may now be recover- 
 able. It is these two objects which I have 
 kept in view throughout these pages. When 
 I began my task I did not dream of being able 
 
 viii
 
 PREFACE 
 
 to make any considerable additions to Lamb's 
 writings, or to our knowledge of him — and I 
 was really surprised to find that so many 
 gleanings had been left for me to gather up. 
 Whether my readers will share the gratifi- 
 cation which I feel at the outcome of my 
 labours I cannot tell. But whatever errors 
 I may have committed, and however severely 
 they may be judged, I cannot conceive that I 
 shall ever regret the time and the labour 
 which I have bestowed upon my task. 
 Nothing indeed but the charm — made up of 
 "sweetness and light," humour, pathos and 
 quaintness — which Elia casts over all who 
 are fitted to appreciate him, could have 
 induced me to spend so many hours and days 
 in the researches which have resulted in the 
 present volume. 
 
 It may perhaps be urged against me that I 
 have bestowed more attention than they 
 deserve upon matters of trifling importance. 
 I do not expect, however, that this charge 
 will be brought against me by any true 
 Elians. "Would any one complain of the 
 triviality of the minutest of the facts I have 
 recorded if they related to Shakespeare 
 instead of Lamb? The question, of course 
 
 ix
 
 PREFACE 
 
 answers itself ; but I dare say I shall be told 
 that Lamb is not Shakespeare, Quite so ; 
 but I venture to say that there are many 
 people who are no less interested in a new 
 fact about Lamb than they would be in a new 
 one about Shakespeare. "With all his genius, 
 there is nothing to hinder us from obtaining, 
 if we desire to do so, a full comprehension 
 of the character, and a complete appreciation 
 of the writings, of Charles Lamb. That, it i 
 hardly needful to add, is not the case with 
 Shakespeare. The eye may penetrate the 
 clear waters of a river, but not the depths of 
 the ocean. 
 
 It may be less easy for me to defend 
 myself from another charge which may be 
 brought against me, I have certainly intro- 
 duced some matters, which, however inter- 
 esting in themselves, can scarcely claim to 
 come within the scope of my proper theme, 
 yet I am hardly disposed to apologise for 
 their insertion. They deal, at any rate, with 
 subjects and persons in which and whom 
 Lamb was himself interested. To tell the 
 truth, however, I must confess that I have 
 inserted them rather because it pleased me 
 to do so than for any more valid reason. I 
 
 X
 
 PREFACE 
 
 found them in the course of my Elian 
 researches, and thought it a pity not to make 
 use of them. In the places whence I have 
 taken them they were practically entombed : 
 I hope some of my readers will think with 
 me that they were worth disinterring. 
 
 It is by a rather curious chance that the 
 present volume has come into existence. 
 About two years since I came into possession 
 of the remaining manuscripts of one of Lamb's 
 closest friends — Thomas Manning. As soon 
 as I had examined them I determined to make 
 them the basis of a work relating to 
 Lamb and Manning, and the Lloyds — for 
 the collection, besides a large number of 
 letters from and to Manning included also 
 many epistles of Charles and Robert Lloyd. 
 Before undertaking this task, it seemed 
 necessary to acquaint myself as thoroughly 
 as possible with the literature relating to 
 Lamb and his friends. I had long had in my 
 possession, waiting its turn to be examined, 
 a set of the " LondonMagazine " — and to this I 
 now applied myself. I soon perceived that 
 there was much matter to be gleaned from 
 its pages, which none of Lamb's editors had 
 made use of ; and when I had finished my 
 
 xi
 
 PREFACE 
 
 study of it I found I had nearly enough 
 material for a book, without drawing upon 
 the Manning manuscripts. Other material, 
 much of which only came into my hands 
 while the book was passing through the press, 
 began to accumulate in a rather remarkable 
 way ; and I finally decided that it was best, 
 on the whole, to use this matter before deal- 
 ing with the Manning papers. From the 
 latter, however, I hope soon to compile a 
 second volume. 
 
 I must not conclude without acknowledg- 
 ing my great obligations to my friends, Mr. 
 E. V. Lucas and Mr. G. Thorn Drury. I am 
 indebted to both of them for many valuable 
 suggestions ; and their counsel has enabled 
 me to avoid many errors which I might 
 otherwise have committed. If in some cases 
 I have preferred my own judgment to theirs 
 it has always been with a good deal of hesi- 
 tation. I say this, because it would be unjust 
 to allow it to be thought that they are in any 
 degree responsible for errors or mistakes 
 attributable to myself alone. 
 
 I have also to thank very sincerely Mr. A. 
 Forbes Sieveking, who has kindly allowed 
 me to make use as a cover-decoration of the 
 
 xii
 
 PREFACE 
 
 bust of Charles Lamb by the late A. L. Vago, 
 which he commissioned that artist to execute. 
 I think it will be acknowledged — so far at 
 least as we are now able to judge — that the 
 sculptor has very happily caught the likeness 
 and the expression of his subject. 
 
 Another gentleman to whom I am indebted 
 is Mr. W. C. Hazlitt, who gave me assistance 
 on various points relating to his grandfather 
 and T. G. "W^ainewright. 
 
 There is one small mistake in the book 
 which I may as well set right here. In the 
 chapter entitled " More about "Wainewright 
 and Lamb," I have stated that none of 
 "Wainewright 's biographers seem to have 
 known of the existence of his Bonmot book- 
 let. I have since found that this is an error. 
 The author of the account of "Wainewright 
 in the volume entitled "Twelve Bad Men" 
 mentions the booklet, and makes some 
 extracts from it. 
 
 XIU
 
 M^ 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 I 
 
 LAMB AND THE ** LONDON MAGAZINE'* 
 
 Lamb's genius best displayed in his contributions to 
 the** London Magazine'' — Its proprietors and con- 
 tributors his personal friends — Brief account of the 
 origin and history of the magazine — Account of John 
 Scott, its first editor — His ability as an organiser and 
 director — His unfortunate fate — The magazine be- 
 comes the property of Messrs.Taylor and Hessey, who- 
 make Thomas Hood its sub-editor — Hood's account 
 of his connection with the magazine, and of its 
 leading contributors — Lamb's friendship for him — 
 Notes relating to the chief contributors to the maga- 
 zine; J. H. Reynolds, Allan Cunningham, Thomas 
 deQuincey,John Clare, T. G. "Wainewright, Thomas 
 Carlyle, and others — Hood's story relating (probably) 
 to Carlyle — Lamb's opinion of Goethe — Failing for- 
 tunes of the ** London Magazine" — its causes — 
 Various complimentary references to Lamb in the 
 magazine by Scott, "Wainewright, etc, — Lamb's 
 genius discerned and acknowledged by most of the 
 critics and authors of his own time, but little appre- 
 ciated by the reading public — Slow growth of his-
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 reputation and popularity — Thomas Griffiths Wainc- 
 wright, his enigmatic character — Not the frivolous 
 pretender he is usually represented — Various articles 
 in the "London Magazine " which are now first 
 assigned to him — ** Janus Weatherbound'' — Extracts 
 from that article relating to himself,John Clare, and 
 Lamb — His sympathetic and discerning tribute to the 
 character and genius of the latter — The earliest and one 
 of the best sketches which we possess of Lamb's per- 
 sonality — Eliadefunct,a mystification gotup by Lamb 
 and Waine wright in the " London Magazine " — Short 
 account of John Hamilton Reynolds — His "Literary 
 Police Office, Bow Street" — His burlesque notices 
 of Wordsworth and Lamb . . . Pp. 1-54 
 
 11 
 
 HORACE SMITH'S IMITATION OF LAMB 
 
 Smith's paper in the "London Magazine" entitled 
 "Death — Posthumous Memorials — Children" sug- 
 gested by Lamb's " New Year's Eve," and evidently 
 written in imitation of his style — Smith more suc- 
 cessful in catching the manner of his model than 
 Lamb's other imitators — Reprint of the essay 
 
 Pp. 55-73 
 
 III 
 
 SOME NEWLY DISCOVERED CONTRI- 
 BUTIONS BY LAMB TO THE 
 "LONDON MAGAZINE" 
 
 My search for articles in the "London Magazine" by, 
 or relating to, Charles Lamb — Unexpected results — 
 Difficulty of deciding on internal evidence what is 
 
 xvi
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 or is not Lamb's — His connection with the magazine- 
 commenced with the eighth number, in which 
 appeared his ** R ecollections of the South Sea House,**" 
 and a review of Bernard Barton's poems, which is 
 now first attributed to his pen — Reprint of the review 
 —Letter on the Quakers— Extract from a poem by Luke 
 Booker— ** Verses to Longman, Hurst Rees, Orme 
 and Brown on their publication of Wordsworth's 
 'Excursion' in Octavo," now first ascribed to Lamb 
 — A remarkable discovery — "The Confessions oF 
 H. F. V. H. Delamore, Esq.," now first ascribed to 
 Lamb— The "Confessions" founded on a real inci' 
 dent in his life — Lamb on one occasion put in the 
 stocks I — His " Reflections in the Pillory " probably 
 suggested by this experience — "Dramatic Fragment" 
 by Lamb, reprinted from the "London Magazine"' 
 —"The Miscellany" started in the "London Maga- 
 zine" as a place of refuge for "small ingenious con' 
 tributions" — Lamb a contributor to it — "Scraps of 
 Criticism " now first ascribed to him — Remarks oa 
 passages in Gray's "Elegy" and "The Bard," and 
 on a passage in Shakespeare's " Richard IIL" — Other 
 extracts from "The Miscellany " which areapparently 
 by Lamb— "The Choice of a Grave "—" Wilks "— 
 "Obituary"— Note on " Milton "—Quotations from 
 Lamb's letters relating to the " London Magazine "" 
 and his connection with it — His growing dissatisfac- 
 tion with the manner in which it was being con- 
 ducted — Its decline in merit and circulation — It 
 passes into the hands of other proprietors, and is 
 finally discontinued in 1829 — Lamb's connection 
 with it supposed to have ceased in 1825 — Reasons for 
 thinking this may not have been the case — Two 
 papers published in the magazine in 1826, which i£ 
 
 xvii
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 mot Lamb^s, are very remarkable imitations of his 
 style — Reprints of these articles — ** A Hint to Whist 
 Players " and ** An Appeal from the Shades ** — The 
 question discussed as to whether these papers were 
 the work of Lamb or of an imitator — Evidence derived 
 from a letter of Lamb's to Rickman which seems to 
 show that the ** Appeal from the Shades " was really 
 written by Lamb — Another article in the magazine 
 which may be Lamb's — Reprint of ** The Sorrows of 
 * * * * *"— Sonnet on "The Ass "-The sonnet 
 evidently suggested by Coleridge's poem, addressed 
 '^ To a young Ass " .... Pp. 74-164 
 
 IV 
 
 -SOME POETICAL TRIBUTES TO LAMB FROM 
 THE "LONDON MAGAZINE" 
 
 Poems by Sir Charles Abraham Elton, B. W. Procter, 
 Bernard Barton, and another, all reprinted from the 
 ** London Magazine " .... Pp. 165-186 
 
 SOME FURTHER GLEANINGS FROM THE 
 "LONDON MAGAZINE" 
 
 Various selections from the "London Magazine," which 
 do not all relate to Lamb — " Address spoken by Miss 
 Kelly at the English Opera House " — Possibly by 
 Lamb, but more probably by John Hamilton 
 Reynolds — Notice of the death of Keats, reprinted 
 Irom the "London Magazine "—" Note to Elia on 
 the 'Passage in the Tempest,'" which Lamb had 
 xviii
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 undertaken to explain— William Hazlitt's connection 
 with the "London Magazine "—Some articles by 
 him in the magazine which have not hitherto been 
 ascribed to him— His review of "Peveril of the Peak ** 
 —His venomous attack on Sir Walter Scott's personal 
 character— He did justice to Scott's genius in spite of 
 his intense dislike of him— Hazlitt's personal and 
 literary characteristics— His attack on Coleridge and 
 Lamb's comment on it— Hazlitt's article on Scott the 
 cause of much trouble to the proprietors of the 
 "London Magazine" — A writer in "Blackwood's 
 Magazine "makes a virulent attack upon them on 
 account of its insertion — Taylor's reply to the attack 
 — The temporary estrangement between Lamb and 
 Hazlitt some time between 1814 and 1823— One of 
 the causes of this estrangement now first suggested 
 — Hazlitt suspects Lamb of plagiarising from him — 
 The Philadelphia edition of the second series of the 
 Essays of Elia — Essays contained in it which are not 
 by Lamb, but by Allan Cunningham and B. W, 
 Procter— Quotations from these articles— Motto by 
 Elia to "The Bride of Modernltaly"— Many poems 
 and prose articles in the "London Magazine" by 
 Thomas Hood, which have not hitherto been 
 ascribed to him— His "Ode to Master Izaak Walton " 
 
 Pp. 187-226 
 
 VI 
 
 MORE ABOUT WAINEWRIGHT AND LAMB 
 
 Waincwright a more voluminous writer than has 
 hitherto been supposed — His "Egomet Bonmot" 
 booklet — Its revelations of his personal and literary 
 peculiarities — Quotations from it — The clues which it 
 
 xix
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 furnishes to his various contributions to the periodi- 
 cals of the times — Lists of his (supposed) contributions 
 to "Blackwood's Magazine" and to ** Northouse's 
 London Magazine" — Lamb'sallusiontoWaincwright 
 in his essay on "The Decay of Beggars in the 
 Metropolis" — Curious reference to Lamb by Wainc* 
 wright— Was Lamb the chaunter of ** Diddle, diddle 
 dumpkins"? — The question discussed in a manner 
 befitting its importance — Egotism and vanity not 
 always identical qualities — Wainewright, though 
 an egotist, not blind to his defects, as a merely vain 
 person would be — The two "London Magazines,** 
 Baldwin's and Northouse's — Wainewright a contri- 
 butor to both, and probably the author of papers in 
 the latter which bear the signatures of " Sam Quiz *' 
 and "Paul Clutterfauck"— Parodies by "Sam Quiz" 
 of Coleridge, Wordsworth, Colman, &c. — " The 
 Literary Ovation, or the Row in an Uproar," by 
 Paul Clutterbuck — Its curious references to Lamb 
 and Hazlitt— Hazlitt's "Pindaric" on himself — 
 " Songe to Fancy, by good Master Webster," sung 
 by Lamb — The merits of the magazines of the time 
 compared — Remarks on " The Literary Ovation " — 
 Hazlitt on Wainewright (note) . . Pp, 227-293 
 
 VII 
 
 GLEANINGS FROM "THE MONTHLY 
 REPOSITORY" 
 
 Some articles relating to Lamb in "The Monthly 
 Repository" for 1835, which have been hitherto 
 overlooked — " An Evening with Charles Lamb and 
 Coleridge'* — "Morning, Noon,°and Night,** a poem 
 
 XX
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 by "S. Y^** author of the foregoing article— "Musical 
 Commentaries and Correspondence of the late 
 Charles Lamb ** — A letter from Lamb to Hazlitt — 
 Review of Lamb's ** Rosamund Gray, &cc" — Cha' 
 racter of Charles Lamb by Coleridge — Lamb's letter 
 to Hazlitt on the birth of his son , Pp. 294-328 
 
 VIII 
 GLEANINGS FROM VARIOUS SOURCES 
 
 A precursor of Lamb's "Tales from Shakespeare" — 
 "The Enchanted Mirror" — "The Adventures of 
 Telemachus " — " Mr. H "—A notice of its perform- 
 ance, &c.— Lamb's letters to Manning— "Stories 
 after Nature" by C. Wells— Daisy Pie— Lamb a 
 yearner after mountain scenery and a country life I 
 — Extracts from an article and a poem on Lamb in 
 the "Oxford University Magazine "—Remarks upon 
 them— Sonnet on Lamb by Sir Egerton Brydges — 
 Another Sonnet on Lamb — Verses on Lamb from 
 " Temple Bar " Pp. 329-360 
 
 IX 
 
 LIST OF LAMB'S CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE 
 "LONDON MAGAZINE" 
 
 Pp. 361-364 
 INDEX Pp. 365-371 
 
 XXI
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 LAMB AND THE " LONDON 
 MAGAZINE " 
 
 It was in the Lottdon Magazine that the genius 
 of Charles Lamb displayed itself to the best 
 advantage. It is not too much to say that 
 but for its establishment (or rather re-estab- 
 lishment, for it was, when started in 1820, a 
 revival of an old and long-popular magazine) 
 we should have wanted much of his best and 
 most characteristic work. Its proprietors — 
 or, at least, the proprietors into whose hands it 
 passed in 1821 — became his personal friends, 
 as did also nearly all the writers engaged 
 
 1 A
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 upon it. These latter were, perhaps, as 
 brilliant a band of contributors as were ever 
 engaged upon the staff of a magazine. All, 
 or nearly all, of them were inspired with 
 a feeling of admiration for Lamb's genius, 
 and with warm personal affection for him, 
 so that he was stimulated to do his best by 
 the knowledge that he was sure of apprecia- 
 tion and applause from them, whatever 
 might be his fate with the outer public. A 
 brief account, therefore, of the fortunes of 
 the magazine, and of Lamb's connection with 
 it, will not, I hope, be deemed superfluous. 
 It is a gratification to me — a gratification 
 which will, I hope, be shared by the reader 
 — that my researches have revealed a consi- 
 derable number of hitherto unknown writings 
 by Lamb, which I shall have the pleasure 
 of now making known. 
 
 The first number of the revived London 
 Magazine appeared in January 1820. Its 
 original proprietors were apparently Messrs. 
 Baldwin, Cradock, and Joy, who were then 
 • publishers of considerable repute. Their 
 leading idea appears to have been to render 
 their new periodical a representative London, 
 oi' English, magazine, as Blackwood's Magazine 
 
 2
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 represented Edinburgh, or Scotland, "Whether 
 the publishers were also the projectors of 
 the periodical, or whether its first editor, 
 John Scott, proposed it to them, I have been 
 unable to discover. It is certain, however, 
 that it owed almost everything to its first 
 editor, whether he was or was not the 
 projector of it. Successful editors are as 
 much born, and not made, as poets ; and 
 Scott, judging from his pioneer work on the 
 Loudon Magazine, was one of the ablest of 
 them. Had he not been cut off so pre- 
 maturely it can hardly be doubted that the 
 magazine would have attained as permanent 
 a success as Blackwood's or any other 
 periodical of the time, A brief memoir of 
 Scott, therefore, will not be out of place. 
 
 John Scott was born at Aberdeen in 1783, 
 He was educated at the Marischal College, 
 in that town, where Byron was his school- 
 fellow. Very early in life he came to 
 London, and obtained a place in the A)(/"ar 
 Office ; but he soon abandoned official life 
 in favour of literature and journalism. After 
 two or three experiments in editorship, he 
 was engaged by John Drakard as editor of 
 the Stamford News. 
 
 3
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 On January 10, 1813, the first number of 
 Drakard's News, which he edited from its 
 commencement, appeared. In the following 
 year its title was changed to The Champion. 
 Lamb's acquaintance with Scott seems to 
 have commenced in the latter year. In Dr. 
 Birkbeck Hill's " Talks about Autographs," 
 there is a letter from Lamb to Scott, which 
 shows that the former was then contributing 
 to the paper. His contributions, however, 
 do not appear to have been of a notable or 
 characteristic kind. The only one of them 
 of any importance which can now be identi- 
 fied is the essay " On the Melancholy of 
 Tailors." He warns Scott in the letter I 
 have mentioned that he will have occasion- 
 ally to wink at " briskets or veiny pieces," 
 i.e., articles of inferior quality. Great 
 journalists are not much more plentiful 
 than great poets ; and it is no discredit 
 to Lamb that he made only an indifferent 
 one. The paper changed hands in 1816 ; 
 and about two or three years afterwards it 
 became the property of John Thelwall, a 
 friend of Lamb and Coleridge, and a well- 
 known radical orator and writer. 
 
 Under Thelwall's editorship Lamb contri- 
 
 4
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 buted to the paper some smartly written 
 satirical verses, chiefly directed against the 
 Prince Regent ; and a few epigrams, most of 
 which were included in a selection of pieces 
 from the paper, which was published by 
 Thelwall in 1822 under the title of " Poetical 
 Recreations of the Champion." 
 
 Between 1814 and 1819 Scott travelled a 
 good deal on the Continent. As a result he 
 published in 1815 "A Visit to Paris in 1814," 
 and in 1816 " Paris Revisited in 1815 by 
 way of Brussels, including a walk over the 
 field of Battle at "Waterloo." Thackeray 
 described these books as " famous good 
 reading " ; and they elicited high praise 
 from "Wordsworth and other good judges. 
 He made collections for the writing of 
 various other books of travel, which his 
 labours on the London Magazine interrupted. 
 As an editor he was, I think, superior to any 
 of his contemporaries. Talfourd describes 
 him as "a critic of remarkable candour, 
 eloquence, and discrimination," nor is his 
 praise a whit too extravagant. He made 
 none of the foolish mistakes which were 
 made by such men as Jeffreys, Gifford, and 
 Lockhart. "When other editors were deriding 
 
 5
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 "Wordsworth he had the courage to proclaim 
 his belief that he was the greatest poet of 
 the time — an opinion which, considering the 
 then overwhelming popularity of Byron, 
 was certainly not a common one. And 
 yet he saw, as plainly as those who could 
 see nothing else, what were "Wordsworth's 
 deficiencies. His article upon him in the 
 London Magazine for March 1820, antici- 
 pated, in essentials, almost all that later 
 critics have said about the author of 
 " Lyrical Ballads." 
 
 Among the eminent writers whom Scott 
 enlisted in the service of the London Magazine 
 were Allan Cunningham, B. "W. Procter, 
 C. A. Elton, Rev. H. F. Gary, \(^illiam 
 Hazlitt, Horace Smith, Thomas De Quincey, 
 and Thomas Griffiths "Wainewright. The 
 editor had not only discernment enough to 
 recognise the great abilities of these writers, 
 but also the art of so directing their talents 
 as to turn them to the most profitable account 
 in the interests of the magazine. I do not 
 think that any one who looks over the early 
 volumes of the London will dispute the truth 
 of this observation. It was most unfortunate 
 that just when Scott's labours upon the 
 
 6
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 magazine were beginning to bear fruit in its 
 increasing popularity, an unkind fate arrested 
 his career for ever. 
 
 In the latter part of 1820, and in the number 
 of the London Magazine for January 1821, 
 Scott, in consequence of some provocation 
 which he had received from the writers in 
 Blackwood' s Magazine, published a series of 
 articles in which he attacked with extreme 
 severity the publishers and conductors of 
 that periodical. He called it the Mohock 
 Magazine, a title which stuck to it for some 
 time afterwards. His articles are models 
 of powerful argument and caustic invective- 
 Scott, however, made one mistake. He 
 attempted to fasten the responsibility for 
 some specially objectionable articles upon 
 certain individuals, among whom were 
 Professor Wilson and J. G. Lockhart. 
 The latter, whom Scott had attacked 
 as being partly or wholly responsible 
 for the editorial conduct of Blackwood' s 
 Magazine, sent him a challenge through a 
 friend of his, Mr. Christie. Scott refused to 
 accept the challenge, unless Lockhart con- 
 sented to disavow his responsibility as editor 
 of the magazine, or writer of the offensive 
 
 7
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 articles. This Lockhart refused to do ; and 
 it seemed as though the matter was likely to 
 come to an end with no more serious conse- 
 quences than the exchange of a good many 
 hard words. But Mr, Christie, as Scott 
 thought, had exceeded his duties as a second 
 by taking an active part against him in the 
 quarrel ; and he therefore challenged him. 
 In the result Scott and Christie met at Chalk 
 Farm at nine o'clock on the night of 
 February 16, 1821, Christie, it is said, went 
 out resolved not to injure his adversary ; but, 
 owing to the uncertain light, unfortunately 
 wounded him mortally.* Scott died on 
 February 27, leaving a widow and two 
 young children. So fell, a sacrifice to a 
 
 * The reader may perhaps think that the above 
 account of the duel is not so clear as it might be. 
 It would require, however, more space than I can 
 devote to it to give a wholly satisfactory account of 
 the affair, which from first to last was mismanaged 
 and muddled. As Lockhart eventually denied that 
 he was responsible for the offensive articles which 
 Scott imputed to him, or for the editorial conduct of 
 Blackwood's Magazine, there seems to have been no 
 good reason why he should not have given Scott 
 an assurance to that effect, when the latter would 
 either have apologised to him, or would have con- 
 sented to meet him. It is due to Mr. Christie to 
 
 8
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 foolish custom, a writer from whom, judg- 
 ing from what he had already achieved, 
 much might have been expected, and some- 
 thing perhaps that his countrymen would not 
 have allowed to fall into oblivion. 
 
 It will be convenient here to give a short 
 account of the fortunes of the London Maga- 
 zine after the death of its first editor. Scott, 
 as we have seen, edited only the first fourteen 
 numbers of it. The impulse and the direc- 
 tion, however, which he had given it lasted 
 for some time after his decease, though the 
 want of his resourceful mind and masterful 
 hand became more and more evident with 
 each volume. The original proprietors, 
 Messrs. Baldwin, Cradock, and Joy, seem to 
 
 say that his conduct — according to the then prevalent 
 code of honour — was entirely correct. He fired in 
 the air at the first exchange of shots, and only aimed 
 at Scott in the second encounter in self-defence. 
 The seconds, Messrs. Traill and Patmore, should 
 have interfered after the first exchange of shots and 
 stopped the duel. 
 
 Mr. Andrew Lang, in his " Life of Lockhart," 
 gives a long account of the affair, in which he has 
 obviously striven, though not perhaps with entire 
 success, to hold the balance evenly between the two 
 parties.— Sfe " Life and Letters of John Gibson 
 Lockhart," pp. 250-282. 
 
 9
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 have despaired of obtaining another com- 
 petent editor, and therefore disposed of their 
 interest in the magazine to Messrs. Taylor 
 and Hessey, whose names, as publishers, 
 first appeared on the issue for August 1821. 
 These gentlemen have a very honourable 
 record, inasmuch as they were the original 
 publishers of Keats's " Endymion," and of his 
 last volume of poems ; as also of several of 
 Hazlitt's works, DeQuincey's " OpiumEater," 
 the first series of Lamb's " Elia," &:c. Taylor 
 was a man of some literary talent, and one 
 of the many persons who fancied that they 
 had discovered the author of the Letters of 
 Junius. He was the first writer who put 
 forward the claims of Sir Philip Francis to 
 the dubious honour of having written the 
 famous Letters ; and he was also the author 
 of various pamphlets on financial subjects. 
 So far as the London was edited at all 
 Taylor seems henceforward to have edited 
 it, though the chief part of the labour of 
 dealing with contributors, selecting articles, 
 and generally of guiding its course, fell upon 
 its sub-editor, Thomas Hood. In his " Liter- 
 ary Reminiscences," Hood has given us a 
 most interesting account of his connection 
 
 10
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 with the magazine. It was the death of 
 Scott which caused him to desert engraving, 
 which had hitherto been his profession, for 
 literature. The new proprietors of the 
 London Magazine, he says, were his friends ; 
 they sent for him, and installed him as a sort 
 of sub-editor of their periodical. What 
 followed had best be told i in Hood's own 
 words : 
 
 To judge by my zeal and delight in my new 
 pursuit, the bowl had at last found its natural 
 bias. Not content with taking articles, like 
 candidates for holy orders — with rejecting 
 articles like the Belgians — I dreamt articles, 
 thought articles, wrote articles, which were all 
 inserted by the editor, of course with the con- 
 currence of his deputy. The more irksome 
 parts of authorship, such as the correction of 
 the press, were to me labours of love. I re- 
 ceived a revise from Mr. Baldwin's Mr. Parker 
 as if it had been a proof of his regard ; forgave 
 him all his slips, and really thought that 
 printers' devils were not so black as they are 
 painted. But my top-gallant glory was in 
 " our contributors." How I used to look for- 
 ward to Elia ! and backward for Hazlitt, and 
 all round for Edward Herbert, and how I used 
 to look up to Allan Cunningham ! For at that 
 
 11
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 time the Loyidon had a goodly list of writers — 
 a rare company. It is now defunct, and per- 
 haps no ex-periodical might so appropriately 
 be aprostrophised with the Irish funereal 
 question — " Arrah, honey, why did you die ? " 
 Had you not an editor, and elegant prose 
 writers, and beautiful poets, and broths of boys 
 for criticism and classics, and wits and humour- 
 ists — Eha, Gary, Procter, Cunningham, Bow- 
 ring, Barton, HazHtt, Elton, Hartley Coleridge, 
 Talfourd, Soane, Horace Smith, Reynolds, 
 Poole, Clare, Thomas Benyon, with a power 
 besides. Hadn't you " Lions' Heads, with Tra- 
 ditional Tales ? " Hadn't you an Opium Eater, 
 and a Dwarf, and a Giant, and a Learned 
 Lamb, and a Green Man ? Had not you a 
 regular Drama, and a Musical Report, and a 
 Report of Agriculture, and an Obituary, and a 
 Price Current, and a current price of only half- 
 a-crown ? Arrah, why did you die ? "Why, 
 somehow the contributors fell away, the con- 
 cern went into other hands — worst of all a 
 new editor tried to put the Belles Lettres in 
 Utilitarian envelopes ; whereupon the circula- 
 tion of the Miscellany, like that of poor Le 
 Fevre, got slower, slower, slower — and slower 
 still — and then stopped for ever ! It was a 
 sorry scattering of those old Londoners ! Some 
 went out of the country : one (Clare) went into 
 it. Lamb retreated to Colebrook, Mr, Gary 
 
 12
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 presented himself to the British Museum, 
 Reynolds and Barry [Cornwall] took to en- 
 grossing when they should pen a stanza, and 
 Thomas Benyon gave up literature. 
 
 It is with mingled feelings of pride, pleasure, 
 and pain, that I revert to those old times when 
 the writers whom I had long known and ad- 
 mired in spirit were present to me in the flesh 
 — when I had the delight of listening to their 
 wit and wisdom from their own lips, of gazing 
 on their faces, and grasping their right hands. 
 Familiar faces rise before me, familiar voices 
 ring in my ears, and alas ! amongst them are 
 shapes that I must never see, sounds that I 
 can never hear, again. Before my departure 
 from England, I was one of the few who saw 
 the grave close over the remains of one whom 
 to know as a friend was to love as a relation.* 
 Never did a better soul go to a better world ! 
 Never perhaps (giving the lie direct to the 
 commoner imputation of envy, malice, and 
 hatred amongst the brotherhood) never did an 
 author descend — to quote his favourite Sir T. 
 Browne — into " the land of the mole and the 
 pismire" so hung with golden opinions, and 
 honoured and regretted with such sincere 
 eulogies and elegies, by his contemporaries. 
 To him, the first of these, my reminiscences, is 
 
 * Hood is here, of course, referring to Charles 
 Lamb. 
 
 13
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 eminently due, for I lost in him not only a dear 
 and kind friend, but an invaluable critic ; one 
 whom, were such literary adoptions in modem 
 use, I might well name, as Cotton called Wal- 
 ton, my "father." To borrow the earnest 
 language of old Jean Bertaut, as Englished by 
 Mr, Cary : 
 
 Thou, chiefly, noble spirit, for whose loss 
 
 Just grief and mourning all our hearts engross, 
 
 Who seeing me devoted to the Nine, 
 
 Didst hope some fruitage from those buds of mine; 
 
 Thou didst excite me after thee t' ascend 
 
 The Muses' sacred hill; nor only lend 
 
 Example, but inspirit me to reach 
 
 The far-off summit by thy friendly speech. 
 
 * * « * 
 
 May gracious Heaven, O Honour of our age 
 Make the conclusion answer thy presage. 
 Nor let it only for vain fortune stand 
 That I have seen thy visage — touch'd thy hand ! 
 
 A few notes are perhaps necessary to make 
 some of the allusions in the above extract 
 intelligible to the readers of to-day, Edward 
 Herbert was the pen-name under which the 
 contributions of John Hamilton Reynolds 
 appeared. The Giant was Allan Cunning- 
 ham and the Dwarf Thomas De Quincey, the 
 former being of unusually tall stature, and 
 the latter exceptionally short. The Green 
 
 14
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Man was John Clare, the peasant poet, who 
 was usually dressed in green, and who made 
 a very odd rustic figure in that attire. 
 Poole was John Poole, a busy magazinist 
 and dramatist in his time, but now only 
 dimly remembered as the author of " Paul 
 Pry," a comedy in which Liston found the 
 happiest opportunity for the display of his 
 peculiar humour, and in which Mr. J. L. 
 Toole has frequently appeared within living 
 memory. "The Lion's Head" was the 
 department of the magazine in which the 
 editor chatted with his readers, and answered 
 his correspondents. This was managed, 
 after Scott's death, by Thomas Hood, and 
 very amusing he made it. " Traditional 
 Tales " was the heading of a series of stories 
 which Allan Cunningham contributed to the 
 magazine. As to Thomas Benyon I must 
 own that I am unable to give any information 
 about him ; nor can I trace any of his con- 
 tributions to the London Magazine. No 
 doubt they appeared under some nom de 
 guerre. 
 
 It is rather curious that Hood makes no 
 mention of four or five rather prominent 
 contributors to the London. Perhaps it is no 
 
 15
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 wonder that he omits to mention the notorious 
 Thomas Griffiths "W^ainewright, or " Janus 
 "Weathercock " ; but it is not so easy to 
 account for the omission of three others who 
 were pretty frequent writers in the magazine. 
 These were Richard Ayton, an essayist, who 
 deserves to be better remembered than he now 
 is ; Peter George Patmore, the father of Coven- 
 try Patmore, and a writer of much versatility 
 as journalist, magazinist (if that term is allow- 
 able), and novelist ; and George Darley, a 
 poet, dramatist, and critic, whose writings, 
 if ever collected, as they deserve to be, would 
 show how unjustly fate often deals out her 
 awards. 
 
 Hood also omits to mention another writer 
 who was destined to achieve a fame greater 
 than that of all but one or two of the con- 
 tributors to the magazine. This was Thomas 
 Carlyle, whose " Life of Schiller " appeared 
 first in the London Magazine, and who, if I 
 am not mistaken, contributed other articles 
 to its pages. But Carlyle, I suspect, was no 
 favourite either with Lamb or Hood, who 
 were no more likely to admire his jeremiads 
 than he was to appreciate the vein of light 
 and careless merriment which laid both of 
 
 16
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 them open, in the eyes of serious-minded 
 people, to the accusation of being wanting in 
 depth of feeling and earnestness of thought. 
 I do not think it has ever been noticed before 
 that there is a passage in Hood's " Literary 
 Reminiscences " which, I believe, refers to 
 Carlyle, and which, if it does, fully accounts 
 for the bitter and virulent remarks about 
 Lamb, which have perhaps done more to 
 alienate the sympathies of sensitive readers 
 from the Chelsea Jeremiah than all the rest 
 of his offences against good feeling and good 
 taste. 
 
 Lamb, whilst he willingly lent a crutch to 
 halting Humility, took a delight in tripping up 
 the heels of Pretension. Anybody might trot 
 out his Hobby ; but he allowed nobody to ride 
 the High Horse, If it was a High German one, 
 like those ridden by the Devil and Doctor 
 Faustus, he would chant : 
 
 " Geuty, Geuty 
 Is a great Beauty," 
 
 till the rider moderated his gallop. He hated 
 anything like Cock-of-the-"W"alk-ism ; and set his 
 face and his wit against all Ultraism, Trans- 
 cendentalism, Sentimentalism, Conventional 
 Mannerism, and above all. Separatism, ^ In 
 
 17 B
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 opposition to the Exclusives, he was emphati- 
 cally an Inclusive. 
 
 Lamb, who had no knowledge of the 
 German language, had a very poor opinion 
 of Goethe, and particularly of his " Faust," 
 perhaps because there was then no translation 
 of the poem which was not a " traduction," 
 with the exception of the fragments which 
 Shelley had rendered into English. "Writing 
 to Harrison Ainsworth on December 9, 1823, 
 Lamb says : 
 
 I thoroughly agree with you as to "The 
 German Faust," as far as I can do justice to 
 it from an English translation, 'Tis a dis- 
 agreeable canting tale of seduction, which has 
 nothing to do with the spirit of Faustus — 
 Curiosity. Was the dark secret to be explored 
 to end in the seducing of a weak girl, which 
 might have been accomplished by earthly 
 agency ? "When Mario w gives his Faustus a 
 mistress, he flies him at Helen, flower of 
 Greece, to be sure, and not at Miss Betsy, or 
 Miss Sally Thoughtless. 
 
 With these opinions it is easy to understand 
 that Lamb must have listened to Carlyle's 
 disquisitions upon Goethe and other German 
 
 18
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 authors with a good deal of impatience, and 
 that he was even guilty of breaking in upon 
 them with the irreverent chaunt which Hood 
 describes. 
 
 It is hard for me to refrain from quoting 
 much more from Hood, and particularly 
 from giving in full his description of a typical 
 meeting of the contributors to the London ai 
 the hospitable dinner-table of the publishers. 
 Hood is but little read nowadays, so that 
 were I to quote all that part of the " Literary 
 Reminiscences " which relates to Lamb and 
 the London Magazine, it would be new to 
 three-fourths of my readers ; but " Hood's 
 Own " is a very accessible book, and there- 
 fore I refrain. 
 
 The London seems at first to have pros- 
 pered under Messrs. Taylor and Hessey's 
 management ; but after a year or two the 
 want of a capable editor, and the other 
 causes which Hood enumerates, began to 
 tell upon its fortunes. It still contained 
 many excellent articles, and it was difficult 
 to say exactly what was wanting in it ; but 
 every one felt that there was a falling-off in 
 its attractiveness. Under Scott's manage- 
 ment the talents of the contributors were 
 
 19
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 so used as to advance the general good of 
 the magazine, whereas under the new man- 
 agement each contributor appeared to be 
 striving only for himself. So may a very 
 talented company of actors, each individually 
 excellent, but careless of the general effect, 
 give a much less satisfactory representation 
 of a play than an inferior company which 
 has been schooled by a competent stage- 
 manager to work together so as to produce 
 a smooth and harmonious performance. 
 
 It does not seem that Lamb, though 
 he was already known to Scott as a con- 
 tributor to the Champion, was enlisted from 
 the first among the contributors to the 
 London Magazine. At all events I cannot 
 discover any article from his pen in the 
 first seven numbers.* There are, however, 
 two or three allusions to him in the first 
 volume which are worth a passing notice. 
 The first occurs on page 85. The writer — 
 apparently the editor — in reviewing Procter's 
 
 * It has been said that Lamb first became a con- 
 tributor to the London on Hazlitt's recommendation of 
 him to the editor. I do not think, however, that this 
 can have been the case, inasmuch as Lamb had 
 become known long before to Scott, and (as we shall 
 see) was thoroughly appreciated by him. 
 
 20
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 *' Sicilian Story " speculates as to what real 
 personality is hidden behind the pseudonym 
 of " Barry Cornwall." He is not, the writer 
 decides, either Leigh Hunt or Southey — 
 
 Nor is Mr. Cornwall Mr. Lamb. We have 
 heard it said that he is. If so we are block- 
 heads. It appears to us that he has much of 
 Mr. Lamb's feeling, and love of simplicity and 
 pathos, and familiarity with the gentle and 
 sorrowful things of the world ; — but he has not 
 Mr. Lamb's imagination or depth, nor has he 
 quite so extensive a sympathy with humanity. 
 He wants the " something far more deeply 
 interfused " which we find in Mr. Lamb's 
 pieces. 
 
 The next allusion to Lamb appears in one 
 of "Wainewright's " Janus "Weathercock " 
 articles. On page 406, after describing an 
 engraving by Julio Bonasoni, he says, in a 
 note : 
 
 "We think we know one bard, an ardent 
 admirer of nature, animate and inanimate, yet 
 no lover of underbred, colloquial, city vulgar- 
 isms ; in short, a gemdne descendant from the 
 EUzabeth stock, who will thank us for intro- 
 ducing this elegant stranger to him (if, indeed, 
 they are not already acquainted). Should our 
 
 21
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 choice gain the mede of his approbation, we 
 should not heed a jot the blind gabbling of 
 a million of cold matter-of-fact critics, or soi- 
 disant artists. . . . 
 
 In the same article the writer quotes some 
 lines from Lamb's translation of Thecla's 
 song "The clouds were blackening," &c. 
 
 It was in the number for August 1820, 
 that Lamb's first contribution to the magazine 
 appeared. This was " Recollections of the 
 South Sea House," a brilliant beginning to 
 the series of essays which appeared above 
 the signature of " Elia," which was then 
 used for the first time. In the appendix to 
 the present volume I give a list of all Lamb's 
 known contributions to the London Magazine^ 
 and therefore it is unnecessary to dwell upon 
 them here. All that I need say now is that 
 some contribution or contributions from his 
 pen appeared in nearly every number of the 
 London Magazine from August 1820 to May 
 1825, with the exception of 1824, during 
 which he contributed only three articles. 
 
 On page 277, of Vol. II., there is an 
 article on the German writer, Lichtenberg's, 
 descriptions of Hogarth's works. In the 
 course of it there is a passage in which the 
 
 22
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 peculiar qualities of Lamb as a critic and 
 essayist are so well and justly appreciated 
 that it deserves quotation even now. It is 
 possible that Lamb's genius may have since 
 found more eloquent panegyrists ; but it is 
 certain that it has found none who have 
 praised it with greater insight and discern- 
 ment. I think that the following extract 
 will bear out my assertion : 
 
 The Germans boast that no Englishman has 
 done so much as their countryman to honour 
 the English artist : they are not aware of Mr, 
 Lamb's exquisite essays, which are altogether 
 of a far purer and deeper sympathy, with 
 Hogarth's spirit than Lichtenberg's oddities. 
 Mr, Lamb has too much real feeling, and it is 
 of too true a stamp to be ever what can be 
 called ivhiinsical ! No writer ever yet united 
 tears and smiles in such gentle, harmonious, 
 delightful companionship — but this is always 
 done by him easily and naturally, without the 
 aid of affected contrasts or forced transitions. 
 His is precisely the hand wanted to touch the 
 works of Hogarth, On canvas and on copper 
 they do everything for themselves ; but in print 
 the representation, perhaps, gains something 
 which is needful to it, by being seen reflected 
 in the delicate yet sparkling medium of such a 
 
 23
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 sensibility as we have been describing. Mr, 
 Lamb, as Hogarth's commentator, interferes 
 with nothing, alters nothing, strains nothing of 
 the original : — he takes no exceptions, offers no 
 amendments ; but, in transfusing into words, 
 giving " a name " to the graphical descriptions, 
 the softening and elevating influence of his 
 manner seems requisite to render the transfer 
 as honourable as it ought to be to the genius of 
 the immortal artist. 
 
 Lichtenberg had not Mr. Lamb's delicacy of 
 mind and soundness of judgment. He is 
 quaint and odd as well as susceptible and 
 witty. His feeling of the various pieces is often 
 truly deep and felicitous ; but it is not always a 
 safe guide. He has, however, done much more 
 on Hogarth, in point of quantity, than Mr. 
 Lamb ; and this country has reason to be proud 
 of what he has done, and gratefully to acknow- 
 ledge it. 
 
 The next allusion to Lamb is found on 
 page 317 of the same volume. It occurs in 
 the course of an article on Keats which was 
 probably from the editor's pen. The writer 
 finds fault with the poet's handling of the 
 story of " Isabella, or the Pot of Basil," 
 comparing it unfavourably with the original 
 story, as told by Boccaccio. Keats, says the 
 
 24
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 critic, has substituted for Boccaccio's faithful 
 presentation of the case as between the 
 brothers and their sister and her lover 
 " a boisterous rhapsody, which interrupts 
 the harmony of the sorrowful tale — repels 
 sympathy by the introduction of carica- 
 ture." 
 
 His device is a clumsy one : Boccaccio's 
 delicate and true. That most beautiful Paper 
 (by a correspondent, of course) in our last 
 number, on the ledger-men of the South Sea 
 House, is an elegant reproof of such short- 
 sighted views of character ; such idle hostilities 
 against the realities of life. How free from 
 intolerance of every sort must the spirit be that 
 conceived that paper : — or took off so fair and 
 clear an impression from facts ! It would not 
 be prone to find suggestion of invective in the 
 sound of Sabbath bells, as Mr. Keats has done 
 in a former work. The author of " Endymion " 
 and " Hyperion " must delight in that Paper : — 
 And to give another example of what we mean, 
 he must surely feel the gentle poetical beauty 
 which is infused into the starlight tale of Rosa- 
 mund Gray, through its vein of "natural piety." 
 "WTiat would that tale be without the Grand- 
 mother's Bible ? How eclipsed would be the 
 gleaming light of such a character as Rosa- 
 
 25
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 mund's, in a remodelled state of society, where 
 it should be the fashion for wives to be con- 
 sidered as dainties at a pic-nic party, each man 
 bringing his own with him, — but ready to give 
 and take with those about him." 
 
 Perhaps it is worth while to pause here in 
 order to remark that while Lamb's genius 
 met with full and ready recognition from 
 nearly all his brother authors and from most 
 of the critics of the time — differing in this 
 respect from "Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats, 
 and others — it is singular that he was so 
 little popular with the public at large during 
 his life-time. "While editions without number 
 of Byron's works were pouring from the 
 press, the sale of Lamb's writings was 
 extremely slow and unremunerative. Except- 
 ing some of the children's books which he 
 and his sister wrote or compiled for Godwin, 
 I do not think that any of his works 
 reached a second edition during his life-time, 
 though Lowndes and Martin assert (wrongly, 
 I believe) that the first series of " Elia " went 
 into a second edition in 1833. " Rosamund 
 Gray," it seems, was a moderate success ; 
 " John "Woodvil " was printed at the author's 
 expense, and he appears to have lost con- 
 
 26
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 siderably by it ; and the "'Works" published 
 in 1818 can hardly have enriched either 
 author or publisher. Surely there was no 
 excuse for the public neglect of the Elia 
 essays, even if we allow that the other works 
 I have named were not fitted to attract a 
 large number of readers. I believe it is 
 true that there was, at least up to the middle 
 of the last century, a larger sale for Lamb's 
 works in the United States than in England — 
 surely a fact rather discreditable to his 
 countrymen. Not till the second half of the 
 nineteenth century was well advanced did 
 editions of his works begin to multiply. 
 Now no publisher is satisfied until he has 
 included one at least of Lamb's books 
 upon his list ; and soon it seems likely 
 that he will be as often reprinted as 
 Shakespeare himself. This is well, of 
 course ; but one cannot help regretting 
 that some share of his present popularity 
 did not make itself manifest during his 
 lifetime. 
 
 Of all the contributors to the London 
 Magazine, the one who alludes most fre- 
 quently, and perhaps most admiringly and 
 affectionately, to Lamb is (strange to say) 
 
 27
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 that enigmatical being, Thomas Griffiths 
 "Wainewright, cleverest of coxcombs and 
 prince of poisoners ! It was a strange irony 
 of fate which brought together, in what must 
 at 'one time have been a close intimacy, the 
 man who, of all men, had in him the greatest 
 and deepest spring of humanity, and the one 
 whose actions were to prove that he was the 
 most inhuman and remorseless of criminals. 
 There is nothing stranger recorded in the 
 history of mankind than the fact that this 
 Napoleon of turpitude was able to impose 
 himself upon the not undiscerning Charles 
 Lamb — and not him alone — as a gay, kind- 
 hearted, and even lovable being. Is it 
 possible that he was then really what he 
 seemed to be ; and that it was only in 
 later years when he was involved in debt 
 and difficulties that his character underwent 
 so sinister a change ? * 
 
 Naturally enough, it has proved difficult 
 for those who have written of " Janus 
 'Weathercock," to do justice to his real 
 talents. Detestation of the poisoner has 
 
 * Did Stevenson derive the idea of his Dr. Jekyll 
 and Mr. Hyde from Wainewright ? Probably not— 
 but he might very well have done so. 
 
 28
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 blinded the critics to his claims as an author. 
 Usually he is dismissed as a trifler and a 
 mere dabbler in art and literature. Had he 
 been no more than this he could never have 
 persuaded Lamb, John Scott, and other good 
 judges, into a belief in him as a fine critic of 
 art, music, and literature. That he did not 
 reach a very high level of achievement is 
 true — for that was impossible for him, and 
 must be impossible for any one whose first 
 object is to shine in the world of fashion and 
 society — yet he was certainly not the frivolous 
 pretender that he has been represented. It 
 must be admitted, however, that some of his 
 articles almost justify the worst opinion of 
 him, for they are full of egotism, pre- 
 tence, and affectation. Yet there was an 
 intellect of real power at work behind 
 the mask of frivolity which he chose 
 to assume. His judgments on matters of 
 art are generally sound ; and his taste in 
 poetry was far better than that of most of his 
 contemporaries.* He did not, it is true, 
 escape the influence of his time ; and he 
 
 * It is observable, however, that many of his refer- 
 ences to the poets are such as might have been derived 
 from, or suggested by, his conversations with Charles 
 
 29
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 failed, in company with most of his con- 
 temporaries, to appreciate the genius of 
 Beethoven, while he valued Fuseli as a 
 painter far above his deserts. 
 
 Mr. W. C. Hazlitt, in 1880, collected the 
 "Essays and Criticisms" of "Wainewright, 
 and prefixed to the volume the fullest account 
 we have of the author's life. The collection 
 includes the papersfrom the London Magazine 
 which bear the signatures of " Janus "Weather- 
 cock" and "Cornelius van Vinkbooms," and 
 also two papers which are signed " Egomet 
 Bonmot." There are other articles in the 
 magazine however, which, in my opinion, may 
 be pretty confidently ascribed to "Wainewright. 
 Of these the most remarkable is " The Memoir 
 of a Hypochondriac," which appeared in the 
 numbers of the magazine for September and 
 October, 1822. If this be his — and the 
 internal evidence which I find in it is to me 
 conclusive — it proves that his literary powers 
 were of much higher quality than would be 
 thought by those who judge him only by his 
 "Weathercock and "Vinkbooms papers. It is 
 
 Lamb. For instance, herefers frequently to Chapman's 
 Homeric translations, styling the poet in one place, 
 " Mr. Lamb's fine old favourite." 
 
 30
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 an essay of much autobiographical interest, 
 and it aids us (in part, at least) towards a 
 comprehension of the strange personality of 
 its author, made up as it was of so many 
 apparently incompatible elements , His mind , 
 it is plain, hovered sometimes on the borders 
 of insanity, and was at all times subject to 
 abnormal impulses and distempered fancies. 
 The essay was suggested by De Quincey's 
 " Confessions of an English Opium Eater," 
 to which, as a parallel and a supplement, it 
 should be appended. Parts of it indeed 
 might well have been written by De Quincey 
 himself, and would certainly not have been 
 thought unworthy of him. 
 
 Other articles which I attribute to the 
 pen of Wainewright (though with less con- 
 fidence) are : "On Riding on Horseback : " 
 two articles with the signature of "Mazeppa" 
 in the numbers of the London for January 
 and March 1821 ; and " Letters from a 
 Roue : " two articles in the numbers for 
 April and June 1821. 
 
 Perhaps the best of the " 'NlC^eathercock " 
 articles is that entitled " Janus 'Weather- 
 bound ; or, the Weathercock steadfast for 
 lack of oil." This appears to have been his 
 
 31
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 last contribution to the London Magazine, 
 and is somewhat in the nature of a valedic- 
 tory epistle. In it he tells the history of his 
 own connection with the magazine, and 
 describes for us the characters of his col- 
 leagues and fellow contributors. This essay 
 is less disfigured than usual by its author's 
 characteristic defects ; or, at least, its matter 
 is so interesting that we willingly pardon its 
 faults of manner. From this article, inasmuch 
 as Lamb figures largely in it, I propose to 
 quote rather freely. 
 
 As a boy, \(/"ainewright tells us, he was 
 placed frequently in literary society ; but 
 his giddy, flighty disposition prevented him 
 from deriving any advantage from it. After- 
 wards he entered the army, where he was 
 seduced from his love of art by the frivolous 
 conversation and conduct of his brother 
 officers. He remained, however, only a 
 short time in the army ; and when he left 
 it the pure influence of art once more affected 
 him. 
 
 The writings of Wordsworth did much to- 
 wards calming the confusing whirl necessarily 
 incident to sudden mutations. I wept over them 
 
 32
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 tears of happiness and gratitude ; * yet my 
 natural impatience, and I may term it fierceness, 
 was not altogether thereby subdued — rather 
 condensed and guided against more fit objects, 
 meanness, sordid worldliness, hardness, and 
 real vulgarity in whatsoever rank it grew ; at 
 least, in such degree as I was capable of dis- 
 tinguishing them. But this serene state was 
 broken, like a vessel of clay, by acute disease, 
 succeeded by a relaxation of the muscles and 
 nerves which depressed me 
 
 low 
 
 As through the abysses of a joyless heart 
 The heaviest plummet of despair could go, — 
 
 hypochondriasis ! ever shuddering on the 
 horrible abyss of mere insanity ! But two 
 excellent secondary agents, a kind and skilful 
 physician, and a most delicately affectionate 
 and unwearied (though young! and fragile) 
 nurse, brought me at length out of those dead 
 
 * Knowing what we now know about Wainewright it 
 seems almost incredible that he could have been 
 affected by the reading of Wordsworth's poems in 
 the manner that he represents. Yet such is the 
 complexity of human nature that it would probably 
 be an error to dismiss the statement as mere cant or 
 hypocrisy. A good many criminals have exhibited the 
 union of apparently incompatible qualities which 
 characterised Wainewright. 
 
 33 c
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 black waters, nearly exhausted with so sore a 
 struggle. Steady pursuit was debarred me, 
 and varied amusement deemed essential to my 
 complete revivication. At this time the Lojidon 
 Magazine was on the stocks ; and its late 
 lamented editor, taking notice of my enthusiasm 
 for art, and pitying my estate, requested me to 
 put down on paper some of the expressions of 
 feeling whereto I was from time to time excited 
 by the mighty works of Michel, Raffaelo, Cor- 
 reggio, and Rembrandt. With some modifica- 
 tions as to plan, I cheerfully prepared to obey 
 him ; not that I had any hope of carrying such 
 attempt beyond two pages of MS. — but it was 
 a new thing. It struck me as something that I, 
 who had never authorised ■&. line, save in Orderly 
 and Guard Reports (and letters for money, of 
 course) should be considered competent to 
 appear in a new, double-good magazine ! ! I 
 actually laughed outright, to the consternation 
 of my cat and dog, who wondered, I beheve, 
 what a plague ailed me, A reaction com- 
 menced, and I put so much gaiety and spirit 
 into my First Contribution^ that S[cott] was 
 obliged to cut sheer away every alternate sen- 
 tence (that at least was the agreeable turn he 
 gave to the cursed excision). However, out 
 some of it came ; I was amazed — that's weak — 
 I was astonished — astounded — confounded. I 
 said with John Woodvil : " It were a life of 
 
 34
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 gods to dwell in such an element " : to see, and 
 hear, and write brave things : 
 
 These high and gusty relishes of life 
 Have no allayings of mortality.* 
 
 I read it, I don't know how oft — and I declare 
 to you, I thought it the prettiest reading I had 
 ever read ! "Why should I, anonymous, flinch ? 
 By my Hahdom ! I think so still ! ! " 
 
 The editor was so well pleased with 
 "Wainewright's first contribution that he 
 encouraged him to continue writing for the 
 magazine, until, " becoming aware that his 
 friendly purpose had taken its full effect on 
 my mind and body, he began to rap me on 
 the head, as one sees a cat deal with an 
 elderly kitten which retaineth its lacteal 
 propensities over due season." 
 
 Afterwards, shortly before his painful end 
 at a wretched inn on a squalid bed — Poor 
 fellow ! at this moment I feel, fresh as yester- 
 day, round my neck the heart-breaking, feeble, 
 kindly clasp of his fever- wasted arm — his faint 
 whisper of entire trust in my friendship (though 
 but short) — the voice dropping back again — the 
 look — one stronger clasp ! May the peace 
 which rested over his last moments remain with 
 
 * John Woodvil, Act III. Sc. I. 
 35
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 him for ever ! That I steadfastly confide in 
 such consummation, this reverence to his name 
 will prove ; were it not for that I cotild not 
 have uttered an allusion. 
 
 I must finish my involuntarily interrupted 
 sentence. Afterwards there was some talk of a 
 regular re-engagement, with an increase of five 
 guineas per sheet ; on what account I could 
 never exactly discover (not that I tried much, 
 to be sure — it was too gracilely pleasant for the 
 harsh touch of scrutiny). Elia, the whimsical, 
 the pregnant, " the abundant joke-giving" Elia, 
 and our Mr, Drama, the real, old, original Mr, 
 Drama ! * par nohile frairuni, spoke flatteringly 
 of Janus — shall I breathe it ? — as of one not 
 absolutely inefficient, not the worst of Periodical 
 scribblers. 
 
 Passing over the next two or three pages, 
 which are amusing enough in their egotistical 
 way, but which need not now detain us, 
 we come to the main subject of the article — 
 namely, the author's impressions and charac- 
 terisations of the writers in the London Maga- 
 zine. He describes, in the spirit of a modem 
 interviewer, the distinguishing characteristics 
 
 * William Hazlitt. Wainewright calls him the 
 "original Mr. Drama" because he wrote the dra- 
 matic notices in the first two volumes only. 
 
 36
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 of the various contributors, and does it with 
 very considerable skill and insight. The 
 following passages, in which he gives us 
 pen-sketches of John Clare and of Lamb, 
 show him at his best as a writer and critic, 
 and prove that, with all his faults (and they 
 were numerous enough), he was something 
 more than a mere coxcomb : 
 
 And first then for John Clare ; for first doth 
 he stand in the sixth volume. "Princely 
 Clare," as Elia would call thee, some three 
 hours after the cloth was drawn. Alas ! good 
 Clare, never again shalt thou and he engage in 
 those high combats, those wit-fights ! Never 
 shall his companionable draught cause thee 
 an after-look of anxiety into the tankard ! — no 
 more shall he, pleasantly-malicious, make thy 
 ears tingle and thy cheeks glow with the sound 
 of that perplexing constrainment, that con- 
 ventional gagging-bill, that Grammar, till in the 
 bitterness of thy heart thou cursedst Lindley 
 Murray by all the stars ! Not once again shall 
 thy sweetly-simple Doric phrase and accent 
 beget the odious pun. Thou mayest imbibe thy 
 ale in peace, and defy Priscian unchecked, — for 
 Priscian's champion is gone ! — Elia is gone ! 
 Little didst thou think that evening would be 
 the last, when thou and I, and two or three 
 
 37
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 more, Messer Brunetto,* Dugdale Redivivus, 
 
 T ,t that anthery Cicero, parted with the 
 
 humanity-loving Eha beneath the chaste beams 
 
 of the watery moon, warmed with his hearty 
 
 cheer — the fragrant steam of his great plants 
 
 — his savoury conversation, and the genuine 
 
 good-nature of his cousin Bridget} gilding all. 
 
 There was something solemn in the manner of 
 
 our clasping palms, — it was first " hands round," 
 
 then " hands across," That same party shall 
 
 never meet again ! But pardon, gracious 
 
 Spirit ! that I thus but parenthetically memorise 
 
 thee : yet a few more lines shall flow to thy 
 
 most embalmed remembrance. Rest then awhile. 
 
 One word at parting, John Clare ! and if 
 
 a strange one, as a stranger give it welcome ! 
 
 I have known jovial nights, felt deeply the 
 
 virtues of the grape and the barleycorn ; I 
 
 have co-operated in " the sweet wicked 
 
 catches "§ 'bout the chimes at twelve, yet I 
 
 say to thee visit London seldom, shutting close 
 
 thy ears in the abounding company of empty 
 
 scoffers : ever holding it in thy inmost soul that 
 
 love and perfect trust, not doubt, is the germ of 
 
 true poetry. Thy hand, friend Clare ! others 
 
 may speak thee fairer, but none wish thee 
 
 solider welfare than Janus. 
 
 ***** 
 
 * Rev. H. F. Gary.— Ed. t Talfourd.— Ed. 
 
 X Mary Lamb.— Ed. § John Woodvil, Act III. Sc. I. 
 
 38
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 But Elia's ghost is impatient. 
 
 Yet what can I say of thee more than all 
 know ? that thou hadst the gaiety of a boy 
 with the knowledge of a man ; as gentle a 
 heart as ever sent tears to the eyes. Marry ! 
 the black bile would sometimes slip over his 
 tongue's tip ; then would he spit it out, and 
 look more sweetly for the riddance. How 
 wittily would he mistake your meaning, and 
 put in a conceit most seasonably out of season ! 
 His talk, without affectation, was compressed, 
 like his beloved EHzabethans, even unto 
 obscurity; like grains of fine gold, his sentences 
 would beat out into whole sheets. I say 
 " without affectation," for he was not the blind- 
 brained man to censure in others his own vice. 
 Truly " without affectation," for nothing rubbed 
 him the wrong way so much as pretence ; then 
 the sparks flew about ! Yet though he would 
 strip and whip soundly such beggars in velvet 
 rags, the thong never flew in the face of a wise 
 moderation to do her any hurt.* He had small 
 mercy on spurious fame ; and a caustic obser- 
 vation on ih.Q. fashion for men of ge7ims {vulgaLrly 
 so termed) was a standing dish. He contended 
 that several of our minor talents, who now 
 emulate Byron, Coleridge, and the old Drama- 
 tists, had, fifty years ago, rested contented 
 
 * Somewhere in Fuller. 
 39
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 satellites to old Sylvanus Urban — tranquil 
 imitators of Johnson and Goldsmith. One of 
 these flaunting, arrogant, ephemera was par- 
 ticularly odious to him * (in one species of his 
 scribbling he resembleth a gilt chimney-sweeper, 
 in another a blow-fly ; — this is my remark). 
 Sometimes would he defame, " after a sort," his 
 printed (not painted) mistresses : 
 
 As perplexed lovers use 
 At a need, when in despair 
 To paint forth their fairest fair, 
 Or in part but to express 
 That exceeding comeliness 
 Which their fancies doth so strike, 
 They borrow language of dislike. 
 * ■«■ * * 
 
 ... no other way they know 
 A contentment to express, 
 Borders so upon excess, 
 That they do not rightly wot 
 Whether it be pain or not. 
 
 " Farewell to Tobacco." 
 
 Sir Thomas Browne was a " bosom cronie " of 
 his — so was Burton, and old Fuller. In his 
 amorous vein he dallied with that peerless 
 Duchess of many- folio odour ; t and with the 
 hey-day comedies of Beaumont and Fletcher 
 he induced light dreams. He would deliver 
 critical touches on these, like one inspired ; but 
 
 * Thomas Moore, I think. — Ed. 
 t The Duchess of Newcastle. — Ed. 
 40
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 it was good to let him choose his own game ; if 
 another began, even on the acknowledged pets, 
 he was liable to interrupt or rather append, in 
 a mode difficult to define, whether as misappre- 
 
 hensive or mischievous. One night, at C 's, 
 
 the above dramatic partners were the temporary- 
 subject of chat. Mr, * * * commended the 
 passion and haughty style of a tragedy (I don't 
 know which of them), but was instantly taken 
 up by Eha, who told him : " That was nothing 
 — the lyrics were the high things — the lyrics ! " 
 — and so having stricken * * * with some 
 amaze — he concluded with a brief intense 
 eulogy on the " Little Thief ! " 
 
 He had likewise two perversities — a dislike 
 to all German literature, by which language he 
 was, I believe, scrupulously intact : the other 
 w^as a most vehement assertion of equality 
 between Harrington and Fairfax as translators. 
 Venial aberrations ! — I know of no others. 
 
 His death was somewhat sudden ; yet he 
 was not without wormy forebodings. Some of 
 them he expressed, as you may recollect, Dear 
 Proprietor ! at your hospitable table, the — of 
 
 last , I accompanied him home at rather 
 
 an early hour in the morning, and being benig- 
 nantly invited to enter, I entered. His smoking 
 materials were ready on the table. I cannot 
 smoke, and therefore during the exhaustion of 
 a pipe, I soothed my nerves with a single 
 
 41
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 tumbler of * * * and water. He recurred 
 several times to his sensation of approaching 
 death, not gloomily— but as of a retirement from 
 business, a pleasant journey to a sunnier 
 climate. The serene solemnity of his voice 
 overcame me ; the tears poured thick from 
 their well-heads ; I tried to rally myself and 
 him : but my throat swelled and stopped my 
 words. 
 
 His pipe had gone out ; he held it to the 
 flame of the candle, but in vain. 
 
 It was empty ! His mind had been wander- 
 ing. He smiled placidly, and knocked out the 
 ashes. " Even so silently," said he, " may my 
 fiery spark steal from its vehicle of ashes and 
 clay ! " 
 
 I felt oppressed. Many things had con- 
 tributed lately to break and daunt my once 
 elastic spirits. I rose to go : he shook me by 
 the hand, neither of us spoke : with that I went 
 my way — and I saw him no more. 
 
 How much is lost to this miserable world, 
 which knew him not while it possessed him ! 
 I knew him — I, who am left to weep, — Eheu ! 
 Eliam! Vale! 
 
 "We have, fortunately, many delineations 
 of Ella as he appeared to his friends and 
 contemporaries ; yet I am not sure that 
 more than one or two of them surpass the 
 
 42
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 one just quoted in lively colouring and truth 
 of drawing. It should be remembered that 
 "Wainewright was the first who attempted 
 the task of sketching Elia from the life, so 
 that whatever merit his work possesses is 
 entirely his own. He seized upon all the 
 essential traits in his subject ; so that he left 
 little to be done by those who came after 
 him but to fill in the details, and supply the 
 minor lights and shadows. He did, in fact, 
 all (or nearly all) that could be done at that 
 time, when it was not yet possible to tell the 
 whole truth about Lamb and his sister. 
 What would we not give for such a picture 
 of Spenser, Shakespeare, or even Milton ? 
 That "Wainewright (strange as it seems) had 
 a real and sincere admiration and even 
 affection for his friend can hardly be 
 doubted ; and it was this that enabled him, 
 with such apparently careless and rapid 
 strokes, to set him so vividly before the 
 mind's-eye of the reader. 
 
 It is probable that the reader will have 
 been puzzled by the allusions in the passages 
 just quoted to the " wormy forebodings " and 
 death of Elia. I do not think that any 
 biographer or editor of Lamb has yet given 
 
 43
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 a complete account of the rather curious 
 piece of mystification to which these allusions 
 refer ; and I will therefore tell the story 
 here. 
 
 Readers of Mr. ^Xi^. C. Hazlitt's " Lamb and 
 Hazlitt " will remember that he gives in 
 that work an account of a certain hoax 
 which was got up between Lamb, his friend 
 Joseph Hume, and "Vl^^illiam Hazlitt, and 
 which depended upon setting about a report 
 of the death of the latter, in order that some 
 amusement might be extracted from the 
 resulting circumstances. The jest, it must 
 be owned, was a rather thin one ; and it was 
 not productive of any very amusing conse- 
 quences. It seems, however, to have sug- 
 gested to Lamb or "Wainewright, or to both 
 in concert, that a similar mystification might 
 be attempted in the London Magazine, with 
 Lamb himself this time as the deceased hero 
 of the hoax. Accordingly in the number of 
 the magazine for January 1823, the following 
 paragraph appeared among the notices to 
 correspondents which were given under the 
 heading of " The Lion's Head " : 
 
 Elia is dead ! — at least, so a Friend says ; 
 but if he be dead, we have seen him in one of 
 
 44
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 those hours "when he Is wont to walk" ; and 
 his ghostship has promised us very material 
 assistance in our future Numbers, We were 
 greatly tempted to put the Irish question to him 
 of — "Why did you die?" — but as we know 
 how very unusual a thing it is for a gentleman 
 to give his reasons for such a step, we resisted 
 the temptation, Mercy on us ! — we hope we 
 are wrong, — but we have our shadowy sus- 
 picious, that Elia, poor gentleman ! has not 
 been honestly dealt by, Mercutio was killed 
 by one Will Shakespeare, a poacher, though 
 his death was laid to other hands ; — and Sir 
 Roger de Coverley, (a gentleman more near our 
 own time), perished under very mysterious 
 circumstances. We could lay our finger upon 
 the very man we suspect as being guilty of 
 Elia's death ! Elia's ghost, however, cannot 
 sleep in its grave, for it has been constantly 
 with us since his death, and vows it must still 
 write for its peace of mind. Indeed, the first 
 paper in our present Number is one of '\\.s grave 
 consolations. 
 
 In the next paragraph to the above the 
 jest was still further developed : 
 
 The winter must be very hard, — as it was 
 expected to be, — for honest Master Janus 
 Weathercock has, in the present Number, 
 
 45
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 " composed his decent head and breathed his 
 last." But we are acquainted with his tricks — 
 and well know how subject he is to wilful 
 trances and violent wakings. The newspapers 
 told us the other day of a person who could 
 counterfeit death to such a nicety as to deceive 
 even an undertaker : — now our Readers must 
 not be surprised to find Janus get up, after 
 his laying-out, and go about his ordinary 
 concerns. Depend upon it, Readers, he re- 
 sembles the Spectator's sleeper at the Cock 
 and Bottle — and is no more dead than we 
 are ! 
 
 The sub-editor of the London Magazine, at 
 the time these paragraphs appeared, was 
 Thomas Hood, and he, doubtless, was the 
 author of them. Of course it is evident from 
 them that the announcements of Elia's and 
 of Janus's decease were not intended to be 
 taken seriously, and were in fact no more 
 than playful mystifications. The jest, how- 
 ever, was kept up not only in the article by 
 Wainewright, from which I have quoted, but 
 also in Lamb's contributions to the same 
 number of the magazine, namely, " Rejoicings 
 upon the New Year's coming of Age," and 
 " A Character of the late Elia," which 
 
 46
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 were signed " Elia's Ghost" and " Phil- 
 Elia."* 
 
 In the next number of the magazine the 
 following editorial notice appeared : 
 
 The Author of the Essays of Elia has 
 promised " A Series of Critical and Miscel- 
 laneous Papers," the first of which will appear 
 in our next Number, This intelligence will 
 raise the spirit of Leila, who, since the death of 
 Elia, has written a most feeling letter to his 
 " Shade," from the shades below. 
 
 In the number for March 1823, we have 
 Elia's own disavowal of his death. Perhaps 
 some literal-minded persons had been misled 
 by the announcement which had appeared 
 in the January number, and it was thought 
 necessary to undeceive them. But, after 
 Lamb's usual fashion, the disclaimer itself was 
 not free from an element of mystification : 
 
 Eha is not dead ! We thought as much — and 
 even hinted our thought in the number for 
 
 * It can hardly be doubted, I think, that both these 
 articles are by Lamb, though he affected, as we shall 
 see later on, to disclaim them. Mr. W. C. Hazlitt, in 
 his edition of Wainewright's " Essays and Criticisms," 
 included " A Character of the late Elia," because he 
 thought that in the latter part, it bore some resem- 
 blance to Janus's style. I cannot, however, find any 
 such resemblance myself. 
 
 47
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 January, The following letter declaring Elia's 
 existence is in his o'wti handwriting, and was 
 left by his own hand. We never saw a man so ex- 
 tremely alive, as he was, to the injury done him : 
 " Elia returns his thanks to the facetious 
 Janus Weathercock, who, during his late 
 unavoidable excursion to the Isles of Sark, 
 Guernsey, and Jersey, took advantage of his 
 absence to plot a sham account of his death ; 
 and to impose upon the town a posthumous 
 Essay, signed by his Ghost — which, how like it 
 is to any of the undoubted Essays of the 
 Author, may be seen by comparing it with his 
 volume just published. One or two former 
 papers, with his signature, which are not 
 reprinted in the volume, he has reason to 
 beheve, were pleasant forgeries by the same 
 ingenious hand." 
 
 That Lamb was merely jesting in attri- 
 buting his " Rejoicings on the New Year's 
 coming of age " and " one or two former 
 papers " to Wainewright is sufficiently 
 evident. The only signed essays by 
 Lamb which appeared before January 
 1823, in the London Magazine, and which 
 were not reprinted in the first series of Elia, 
 were " Detached Thoughts on Books 
 and Reading," and the reprinted " Con- 
 
 48
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 fessions of a Drunkard." Is it necessary to 
 add that these could not possibly have been 
 written by "Wainewright ? 
 
 "With the last-quoted paragraph the mysti- 
 fication which I have recounted came to an 
 end. Clearly it was only intended in the 
 first instance as a sort of indirect advertise- 
 ment for the first series of the Elia essays, 
 which was then on the eve of publication.* 
 Its interest for readers of the present day 
 lies in its illustration of the odd and fantastic 
 humour which formed so large a part in the 
 character of Lamb : and in the proof which 
 it affords of the intimacy which then existed 
 between him and "Wainewright. 
 
 There are other paragraphs in " The 
 Lion's Head " which refer to Lamb ; but as 
 these have been reprinted in some editions 
 of his works I need not reproduce them here. 
 The following note, however, which appeared 
 in the number for November, 1823, is perhaps 
 worth quoting : 
 
 * In a letter to John Taylor, dated Dec. 7, 1822, 
 Lamb says: "There will be a sort of Preface [to 
 the first series of Elia] in the next magazine, but 
 not proper for the volume." The '* sort of Preface " 
 was, of course, " A Character of the late Elia." 
 
 49 D
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Elia requests us to say that he is not the 
 Lion some of his Correspondents take him 
 for. 
 
 This means, no doubt, that some of the 
 Correspondents of the magazine had addressed 
 Lamb under the impression that he was the 
 writer of the editorial notices which appeared 
 under the heading of " The Lion's Head." 
 
 One of the most frequent, and certainly one 
 of the cleverest, contributors to the London 
 Magazine was John Hamilton Reynolds, 
 whose father was the head writing-master at 
 Christ's Hospital, and whose sister married 
 Thomas Hood. He is known now only in a 
 dim sort of way as the friend of Keats, and 
 as the author of " The Garden of Florence," 
 and of that queer piece of humour and self- 
 pourtrayal, " The Fancy." He was, however, 
 a remarkably gifted writer ; and, had he 
 possessed greater strength of character and 
 steadiness of purpose, would now be reckoned 
 as not the least of that brilliant band of 
 authors by whom the early years of the 
 nineteenth century were glorified. Even as 
 it is it would be quite possible to select from 
 his numerous writings a considerable volume 
 of poems and essays such as would shew that 
 
 50
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 he is worthy of a better fate than the almost 
 entire forgetfulness which is now his lot. 
 
 Though Reynolds must have been well 
 known to Lamb, his name does not often 
 occur in the letters or other writings of Elia. 
 The only reference to him that I recollect at 
 the moment is in a letter to "Wordsworth, in 
 which Lamb, without mentioning Reynolds' 
 name, alludes with some show of indignation 
 to the Parody of " Peter Bell," which the 
 latter had published, just before the issue 
 of the genuine work. This, however, was 
 in 1819, and at that time, it appears, Lamb 
 was not acquainted with the parodist. No 
 doubt their work on the London Magazine 
 brought them together ; but apparently they 
 were never on terms of much intimacy. 
 Yet it seems plain that Reynolds had 
 a good deal of admiration for Lamb ; and, 
 as his genins was somewhat imitative, he 
 occasionally copied his manner.* All this I 
 
 * Thomas Hood, in his " Literary Reminiscences," 
 gives a vivid picture of his brother-in-law's personal 
 and intellectual peculiarities : " That smart active 
 person opposite with a gamecock-looking head, and 
 the hair combed smooth, fighter-fashion, over his 
 forehead — with one finger hooked round a glass of 
 champagne, not that he requires it to inspirit him, for 
 
 51
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 mention as introductory to a quotation or 
 two from an article of Reynolds' which 
 appeared in the London Magazine for 
 February 1823. This article is called 
 " The Literary Police Office, Bow Street," 
 and consists of a burlesque report of pro- 
 ceedings against the leading authors of the 
 time for various literary offences. It is very 
 well and humorously done, with little or 
 nothing in it which ought to have given 
 offence to the writers thus put upon their 
 trial. Among those who figure in the 
 
 his wit bubbles up of itself— is our Edward Herbert, 
 the author of that true piece of biography, the ' Life 
 of Peter Corcoran.' He is • good with both hands,' 
 like that Nonpareil Randall, at a comic verse or a 
 serious stanza — smart at a repartee — sharp at a retort — 
 and not averse to a bit of mischief. 'Twas he who 
 gave the runaway ring at Wordsworth's Peter Bell. 
 Generally, his jests, set off by a happy manner, are 
 only ticklesome, but now and then they are sharp- 
 flavoured, — like the sharpness of the pine-apple." 
 When " Odes and Addresses to Great Men," by 
 Hood and Reynolds (the latter being the author of 
 the greater part of the volume), was first published, a 
 copy fell into the hands of Coleridge, who came to 
 the conclusion that it must be the work of Lamb, and 
 wrote a letter congratulating him upon it. This was 
 paying a great compliment to the real authors ; 
 though it seems rather surprising that such a mis- 
 take could be made by so good a critic as Coleridge. 
 
 52
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 article — or should I say in the dock ? — are 
 "Wordsworth, Byron, Southey, Coleridge, 
 Lamb, Moore, Rogers, and Scott. I quote 
 the report of the cases of Wordsworth and 
 Lamb, in order that the reader may have a 
 sufficiently good idea of the author's 
 humour : 
 
 "William Wordsworth, a pedlar by trade, that 
 hawks about shoe-laces and philosophy, was 
 put to the bar, charged with stealing a pony, 
 value 40jr,, from a Mrs, Foy, of "Westmoreland ; 
 but as no one was near him at the time, and as 
 he was beside himself, the charge could not be 
 brought home. Another charge, however, was 
 made against him for converting to his own use 
 a spade, with which Mr. "Wilkinson had tilled 
 his lands — but as Mr, Wilkinson was a gentle- 
 man of the Quaker persuasion, he would not 
 appear to swear, and William also escaped on 
 this charge. There were several readers of 
 William's books who were ready to swear, but 
 their oaths could not be taken. The prisoner 
 had several duplicates of little childish poems 
 and toys about him, which he said he had 
 obtained from his grandmother. But it appear- 
 ing that he had often imposed himself off as 
 that old lady, he was remanded to allow of 
 some inquiry. He conducted himself very 
 
 53
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 extravagantly while before the magistrates, so 
 as to give an idea that he was not quite right. 
 He called himself the first man — king of the 
 poets— and wanted to read passages from his 
 own works to prove it. The officers had much 
 difficulty in restraining him from getting out of 
 the dock to beat the magistrate's brains out 
 with a log of the Excursion. Jeffrey, the 
 officer, was obliged to pinion him. 
 
 Charles Lamb was brought up, charged with 
 the barbarous murder of the late Mr. Elia. He 
 was taken late in the evening, at a house of 
 resort for characters of his description, in Fleet 
 Street — and he had with him at the time of his 
 capture a crape mask — a phosphorus (or hock) 
 bottle — a dark lanthom — a skeleton key — a 
 centre-bit (out of the haunch) — and a large 
 clasp-knife (and fork). The evidence was 
 indisputable, and Mr. Lamb was committed. 
 There appears to have been no motive for this 
 horrible murder, unless the prisoner had an 
 eye to poor Mr. Elia's situation in the London 
 Magazine. The prisoner is a large gaunt- 
 looking fellow, with a queer eye, and a broad 
 overhanging brow. If no witness had come 
 forward, his looks would have appeared against 
 him. 
 
 54
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 II 
 
 HORACE SMITH'S IMITATION OF 
 LAMB 
 
 One of the most remarkable of the articles 
 relating to Lamb which were published in 
 the London Magazine appears in the third 
 volume (p. 250), and is entitled " Death — 
 Posthumous Memorials — Children." It was 
 suggested by the appearance in the January- 
 number of the same volume of Lamb's " New 
 Year's Eve." It forms an interesting pendant 
 to that essay, which it supplements and com- 
 pletes by exhibiting the brighter side of that 
 asp>ect of humanity which Lamb had painted 
 in colours somewhat too sombre and depres- 
 sing. It is plain that in writing it the author 
 imitated the style of Elia as closely as he 
 could ; and being perhaps the best (or one 
 of the two best) of English parodists, his 
 success was greater than that of any of the 
 
 55
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 other authors (including Hood, Patmore, and 
 Procter), who attempted the same feat. 
 "When I first read the essay I was half 
 inclined to think it must be by Lamb him- 
 self, notwithstanding the various eulogistic 
 references to Elia which seemed to forbid 
 that idea. On consideration, however, I 
 found various points in it which led me to 
 think that it was the work of an imitator ; 
 and on further thought it seemed most pro- 
 bable that that imitator must be Horace 
 Smith. So indeed it proved — for on refer- 
 ring to his "Gaieties and Gravities " (3 vols., 
 1825) I found it there. As published in the 
 book, however, the essay is considerably 
 altered, and all the references to Elia and 
 his " New Year's Eve " are omitted. As it 
 is practically inaccessible to modern readers 
 I do not think I need apologise for repro- 
 ducing the essay here in its original and 
 more interesting form. 
 
 DEATH— POSTHUMOUS MEMORIALS 
 —CHILDREN 
 
 How I could expatiate upon the quaint 
 lugubrious pleasantry, the social yet deep 
 
 56
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 philosophy of your friend Elia, as particularly 
 illustrated in his delightful paper upon New 
 Year's Eve ! — but the bandying of praises 
 among Correspondents has too uiagazinish a 
 look : — I have learnt his essay by heart. Is 
 it possible, said I to myself, when I first 
 devoured it, that such a man can really feel 
 such horrors at the thought of death, which 
 he describes with so much humorous solem- 
 nity ? But when I came to his conclusion, 
 wherein he talks of the fears, " just now 
 expressed, or affected,'' I had presently a 
 clue to his design. — Ha ! I exclaimed, thou 
 art the very Janus who hast always delighted 
 in antithetical presentments ; who lovest to 
 exhibit thy tragic face in its most doleful 
 gloom, that thou mayst incontinently turn 
 upon us the sunshine of thy comic smile. 
 Thou wouldst not paint the miseries endured 
 by a friendless boy at Christ's, without a 
 companion piece, pourtraying the enjoyments 
 of a more fortunate youngster. Thou wouldst 
 not pour forth the phials of thy wrath upon 
 the plant tobacco, without the redemption 
 of an eulogy upon its virtues, more eloquent 
 than Sir "W^alter Raleigh's : nor hast thou 
 now, as I trust, pronounced thy anathema 
 
 57
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 against the " foul ugly phantom," without 
 being prepared, in the same happy strain, 
 to chant a palinode. No, no. Death hath 
 not any such grisly concomitants, considered 
 either as a "thin, melancholy privation, or 
 more confounding positive.'" He is the sleep- 
 ing partner of life, and we give ourselves up 
 to him every night, without any compunc- 
 tious visitings : — we know not, when we 
 enter them, that the sheets of our bed shall 
 not prove our winding sheets, yet our hearts 
 quake not. We walk arm in arm with him 
 almost every hour, and when his gentle 
 hand draws the curtain around us, and 
 covers us up in our narrow bed, what is it 
 but to fall asleep, and to have a little longer 
 to wait for the daylight. — As I return to my 
 sequestered quiet cottage, after the bustle of 
 a day in London, and a glimpse at the 
 pageantry of the theatre ; so after the great 
 drama of life, shall we return to the tranquil 
 non-existence from which we started : — we 
 have had our turn, and must make room for 
 others. — 
 
 Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; 
 To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot ! 
 This sensible warm motion to become 
 58
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 A kneaded clod, and the dilated spirit 
 
 To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside 
 
 In thrilling regions of thick ribbed ice! — 
 
 Shakespeare, with his usual insight into 
 human nature, has put the cowardly speech, 
 of which this is the commencement, with all 
 its monstrous notions of the Deity, and its 
 abject and grovelling conclusion, into the 
 mouth of Claudio, a dastard, who would 
 purchase a pittance of life with his sister's 
 dishonour — "Well might she exclaim — 
 
 O you beast ! 
 
 O faithless coward ! O dishonest wretch ! 
 
 Yet there is some force in the earnestness 
 with which he urges the uncertain nature of 
 death. " We know what we are, but we 
 know not what we may be." — And yet, after 
 all, it is the love of what we are going/ro;//, 
 more than the fear of what we are going /o, 
 that makes us draw back our foot when the 
 grave opens beneath it. Three-fourths of 
 mankind, in their last moments, seem more 
 anxious to be recorded in this world than 
 favoured in the next ; and many masses 
 ostensibly ordered for the repose of the soul, 
 have really proceeded from a desire for 
 perpetuating some remembrance of the body. 
 
 59
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 No one likes to drop into the earth, like a 
 pebble into the ocean, and let the waves of 
 eternity close over him, without some record 
 or memorial. We wish to keep up some 
 connection with mortality, however slight ; 
 and we stretch back our shadowy arms from 
 the tomb, to snatch at a phantom. Hence 
 all our posthumous vanity, and monumental 
 earth-clinging — from the dateless pyramids, 
 down to the recent will of Mrs. Mary Hoggins 
 of St. Olave, Southwark, who bequeaths to 
 the parish ringers " a leg of mutton and 
 trimmings, for ever, for ringing a peal of 
 triple-bob-majors on the anniversary of her 
 birth." In commemorating its donor, the 
 leg of mutton cannot fail more egregiously 
 than the pyramids, which have entombed 
 the names, as well as the bodies of their 
 builders : — they've been so long reinenihered 
 they're forgot ; — or, if Cheops and Cephrenes 
 be indeed their founders, what have they 
 perpetuated? An empty word, a sound, 
 which we cannot incorporate in flesh and 
 blood ; no, nor even in bones and dust, for 
 Cambyses and Belzoni were both forestalled. 
 The monarch's sarcophagus was found empty, 
 while the bones of the sacred bull were still 
 
 60
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 whole and recognisable. "What a satire on 
 human ambition ! — Of the Mansoleitni, one of 
 the seven wonders of the world, not an atom 
 remains : — we know nothing of him, who for 
 so many centuries was its solitary tenant, 
 while the name of the Queen who built it is 
 familiar in our mouths, and will travel 
 securely down to futurity from her having 
 imparted it to a humble flower. "What a 
 triumph for nature ! — I always keep some of 
 these historical plants by me : — their hoar 
 leaves tell a more affecting tale, than that 
 inscribed by Apollo on the petals of the 
 hyacinth. 
 
 Ingenuity has been exhausted in varying 
 contrivances to defraud oblivion. Doggett 
 has clothed his memory in a waterman's 
 coat and badge ; while another actor serves 
 up the embalmed mummy of his name in a 
 twelfth cake, to be annually devoured in the 
 green-room. But the substance is soon lost 
 in the shadow, the symbol recalls no recol- 
 lection of the original ; nothing remains but 
 the name of a nonentity ; and what is this 
 worth ? — Bucephalus perpetuated his name, 
 as well as Alexander ; the incendiary of 
 Diana's temple eternised his, though it was 
 
 61
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 forbidden to be uttered, while that of its first 
 builder is lost. Vice, indeed, and folly have 
 better chances of immortality, than virtue 
 and wisdom ; for the former only are 
 registered in our Courts and Calends ; and 
 as blood and misery are the materials with 
 which history builds, one destroyer of man- 
 kind shall outlast fifty benefactors. The 
 Chinese have no annals, for they have had 
 no wars. Poor-spirited wretch that I am ! 
 no circumstances could have made me a hero, 
 for, with shame I confess it, I would rather 
 be a forgotten philosopher, than a remem- 
 bered tyrant. 
 
 Poets have a much more substantial exist- 
 ence after death. The non oinnis inoriar, 
 is not altogether a vain boast : their minds 
 actually survive ; we are conversant with 
 their thoughts, words, and actions ; we see 
 a whole and consistent character, disem- 
 bodied indeed, but still sufficiently vital to 
 become companionable, and to participate in 
 a species of communion between the living 
 and the dead. But alas ! how quickly 
 " comes the blind fury with the abhorred 
 shears," and cuts off, for us moderns at 
 least, even this precarious tenure. Only 
 
 62
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 four hundred and twenty years have elapsed 
 since the death of Chaucer, and his dialect 
 has become obsolete, even before his monu- 
 ment has quite decayed, — though that, too, is 
 in a forlorn plight, and I would cheerfully 
 subscribe towards its restoration, were it 
 only for his having beaten a Franciscan 
 Friar in Fleet Street. Gower, his contem- 
 porary, sleeps in St. Saviour's, Southwark, 
 with his three great works under his head, 
 where, and where only, their titles are still 
 read : nor will that be practicable much 
 longer ; for, though his tomb was repaired 
 only thirty years ago, it is again, from the 
 dampness of its situation, hurrying to obli- 
 vion. The most popular of the moderns 
 must soon become antiquated ; — itis the dead 
 languages only that live. But if the sons of 
 Parnassus cannot secure life for themselves, 
 they may help to banish the fear of death in 
 us ; and I agree with Elia, that those puling 
 apprehensions may be " clean washed away 
 by a wave of genuine Helicon," — but not that 
 this recipe is " your only Spa for these hypo- 
 chondriacs." 
 
 Elia declares himself to be a bachelor ; — I 
 mention it not in disparagement ; for it 
 
 63
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 appears to have been his misfortune, rather 
 than his fault. Had it been otherwise, he 
 might, perhaps, have had children, and 
 would have discovered that they alone can 
 perform the seemingly inconsistent office of 
 sweetening both life and death ; throwing a 
 charm over existence, and making " the foul 
 ugly phantom " approach, like the destroyer 
 of Hipparchus, with triumphant garlands 
 around his weapon. Children are the best 
 living possession and posthumous existence ; 
 and how delightful, as well as beneficial ! 
 "What a beautiful mystery is a child ! How 
 awful in its incomprehensibility ; — how en- 
 chanting an essence of human nature, with 
 all its virtues full blown, and its vices and 
 imperfections undeveloped. They come to 
 us fresh from the Creator's hand, and still 
 retain the full savour of their Divine origin ; 
 they are the offspring of heaven, and resemble 
 their parent. — How intensely characteristic 
 of the benignant Jesus was his exclamation, 
 Suffer little children to come unto me, for of 
 such is the kingdom of heaven ; and can we 
 conceive a happier heaven than the mind of 
 a child, into whose paradise regret for the 
 past, and dread for the future, those demons 
 
 64
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 by which manhood is haunted, have not yet 
 intruded ; where everything is an exquisite 
 enjoyment of presentness ; and the rolling 
 panorama of the world is beheld with all the 
 keen relish that faculties, in their highest 
 state of susceptibility for delightful impres- 
 sions, can derive from the raciness of 
 perpetual novelty. Christianity has adopted 
 one cordial and endearing emblem, which 
 gracefully succeeds to the winged Aurelia of 
 the ancients ; I mean the cherubs' heads, 
 engraved upon our tombs. I love to see 
 them fluttering about, as if they were 
 appointed to keep up the communication, 
 and were ready to convey intelligence from 
 one world to the other. As to the monu- 
 mental skull, it is an offensive hieroglyphic 
 of man ; and the sculptured bones are but 
 an unseemly type of the cross. Away with 
 them ! 
 
 Ah ! Elia ! hadst thou possessed " off- 
 spring of thine own to dally with," thou 
 wouldst never have made the melancholy 
 avowal that thou hast " almost ceased to 
 hope ! " Thou wouldst have found rejuvenes- 
 cence without Medea's cauldron, or Saint 
 Leon's forbidden compact, or the pregnant 
 
 65 E
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 elixir of the alchemists. There is a blossom- 
 ing of spring in the autumn of man's life, a 
 genuine second childhood, not feeble and 
 fatuous, but vigorous and buoyant, when all 
 the green associations of youth break out 
 upon us in full bloom from sympathy 
 with our offspring. Then is it that we 
 realise the delightful anticipation of the 
 song. 
 
 And when with envy Time transported, 
 Shall think to rob us of our joys, 
 
 You'll in your Girls again be courted, 
 While I go wooing in my Boys. 
 
 Children afford an excuse for business, as 
 well as a plea for pleasure. "When old 
 Chinnery, of Fenchurch Street, had realised 
 a hundred thousand pounds, he was advised 
 to retire from business, that he might enjoy 
 himself— and be miserable. " I must take 
 care of my children,'' was his reply ; so he 
 continued to do the only thing for which he 
 was fitted, and, after many more laborious 
 and prosperous seasons, died covered with 
 years and plums. At Vauxhall, last summer, 
 I met my grave and substantial neighbour, 
 Frampton, who, with an air of some confu- 
 sion at being detected in an enjoyment, 
 
 66
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 assured me he had not been there before for 
 many years, and only came then to give his 
 children a treat. Mine, I am sure, give me 
 a treat when they enable me to shake my 
 sides at Grimaldi's jokes, and laugh the 
 wrinkles out of my heart. Cares come with 
 them, too, it must be admitted ; but it is 
 better to have something to fear than nothing 
 to hope. A father has no icediiiin vitcv ; and 
 he loves his children the better, when he 
 considers them as the depositaries and con- 
 centrations of past anxieties. They exhilarate 
 his life, smooth his pillow of death, and give 
 even a domestic attraction to the grave, 
 wherein he joins those that have gone before 
 him, and waits for those that are to follow. 
 In fact, he hardly dies ; the living transcripts 
 of his face and figure are still moving upon 
 the earth ; his name survives, embodied in 
 another self ; his blood is still flowing through 
 human veins, and may continue its crimson 
 current till the great wheel shall stand 
 still. "What posthumous memorial so vital 
 as this ? 
 
 But children are often wayward and 
 mischievous, and it is not less painful than 
 necessary to correct them. — I cannot deny 
 
 67
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 it ; for unfortunately the proof is now before 
 me ; and as Elia has given us a glimpse of a 
 bachelor's study, with its huge folios, I will 
 present to him a little scene from a parent's 
 parlour, — There stands my daughter Rosalind 
 in disgrace ! Relying upon the almost 
 intuitive quickness of her mind, she has 
 contented herself with casting one hasty 
 glance upon her lesson, and, in school 
 language, has been turned back, not without 
 a smart reprimand for her idleness and 
 precipitation. She listens in tingling silence ; 
 and as she hangs down her head, her looks, 
 falling forward, enable me to discover every 
 articulation of the blue veins in her fair 
 temple. A deep blush suffuses her face, 
 while, with a mixed emotion of shame, and 
 of a proud consciousness that she does not 
 deserve the epithet dunce, which has been 
 applied to her, she is pressing her lips 
 together to prevent her crying, — But it is in 
 vain ; beneath the long lashes of her down- 
 cast eyes the tears are oozing out — they roll 
 slowly over her crimsoned cheek, and fall 
 upon the neglected book, one of whose leaves 
 she is perseveringly twiddling with her finger 
 and thumb. — In a farther corner of the room, 
 
 68
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 upon the stool of repentance, sits my noble, 
 warm-hearted boy, Alfred, whose interdicted 
 ball has for the second time broken me a 
 large pane of glass ; for which I have not 
 only vilipended him with angry looks and 
 scolding voice, but have forbidden the 
 intended visit to-morrow to his uncle. He 
 is sobbing aloud ; and through the tears, 
 which, refusing to be mopped up by the 
 backs of both his hands, have made a wet 
 patch in his pinafore, he steals at me now 
 and then an inquiring glance ; but, on observ- 
 ing the severity of my countenance, instantly 
 recalls his eyes. His is not the artifice of a 
 cunning or cowardly child, exaggerating its 
 distress to excite compassion ; nor the hate- 
 ful anger of a revengeful one ; nor the 
 passion of an irascible one ; but it is the 
 boiling over of an affectionate heart, ready 
 to break, because it is no longer in communion 
 with mine, and because he cannot give vent 
 to his love to-morrow, by pouting up his lips 
 to kiss his cousins. 
 
 All this presents a painful picture to a 
 father. — But is it nothing to anticipate the 
 hour of reconciliation, when, with sparkling 
 eyes, my children shall leap to my bosom ? 
 
 69
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Is it nothing to know from experience that 
 the tide of affection will gush more abund- 
 antly from this temporary interruption, and 
 that I shall again be able to exclaim with old 
 Dornton in the play — " who would not be a 
 
 father? " — Is it nothing that but I have 
 
 described this happy moment till I can wait 
 for its arrival no longer. God bless ye, my 
 darlings ; come to my arms at once ! — 
 
 While I have been wiping my children's 
 eyes and my own, one of those involuntary 
 thoughts which shoot across the brain like 
 meteors, led me to ask what might be the 
 future fate and fortune of those whom I was 
 embracing. Affecting speculation ! — Is it 
 possible that these vivacious beings, bounding 
 about in an intoxication of delight from the 
 mere luxury of existence, can become old 
 and querulous, and paralytic, and crawl 
 along upon crutches ? — Stale morality, to rake 
 in the grave for dusty mementoes of our 
 evanescency : to hold up a dead man's skull 
 before our eyes, as if we drank our wine out 
 of it, and wished to hob-a-nob, — or beat the 
 devil's tattoo upon our memories with a 
 skeleton's drumsticks ! If we wish to stamp 
 this moral upon our hearts, let us compare 
 
 70
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 man with himself ; let us contemplate the 
 death of the living ; of those who have 
 survived themselves, and become their own 
 tombs. Never did I feel so acutely the vanity 
 of life, as when, in a palsied and super- 
 annuated old woman, I was told I beheld 
 the celebrated beauty, upon whom Lord 
 Chesterfield had written the well known 
 
 song — 
 
 Fair Kitty, beautiful and young, 
 And wild as colts untamed— 
 
 But there is one pang, and an agonising 
 one it is, from which bachelors are happily 
 exempt. Heaven sometimes reclaims the 
 most beautiful of our angels for itself. "When 
 our children have just fastened themselves 
 to our hearts by a thousand ties, death, then, 
 indeed, " a foul ugly phantom," will stretch 
 forth his bony hand to wrench them from 
 us, and almost tear up our hearts by the 
 roots in the struggle ! This excruciating 
 disruption I have lately undergone, and I 
 still shudder when I think of it. Farewell, 
 
 my poor little ! — I knew I could not 
 
 pronounce her name ; but I find I cannot 
 even write it ; and yet (such is the different 
 construction of minds!) her mother, whose 
 
 71
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 distress was much more pungent than my 
 own, found a solace in cherishing and nursing 
 her memory, and could even bear to arrange 
 her sorrows in verse. I enclose you the lines : 
 it is needless to say, that they were never 
 meant for publication, and affect no merit 
 beyond the simple expression of the feelings 
 they were intended to alleviate. 
 
 And now, Mr. Editor, I feel, that for all 
 this nursery nonsense, some apology is due 
 to your bachelor readers, always, however, 
 excepting Elia, whose heart, whatever may 
 be his real state, is assuredly cordial and 
 parental. Assume an object, if you have it 
 not. Let your Benedictine perusers, there- 
 fore, and all the Herods of the London Maga- 
 zine, laud me for my moderation and brevity, 
 when they learn that I have been merely 
 writing to illustrate this position Pater- 
 nity is as garrulous as old age. God help me ! 
 I shall soon have both pleas to offer ; and yet, 
 " I bate no jot of heart or hope." — I have 
 run three-fourths of my race without any 
 diminution of happiness, and I will not 
 anticipate it for the future ; nothing shall 
 destroy my confidence in the benignant 
 provisions of nature. — To yourself. Sir, I 
 
 72
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 offer no extenuation of my prolixity : your 
 own heart will justify the overflowings of 
 mine ; for you are, I believe, like myself, 
 
 A Father * 
 
 I do not think I need draw the reader's 
 attention to the various points in which the 
 above essay resembles the manner and spirit 
 of Lamb. There are, it is true, a few 
 passages in which the writer fails to keep 
 up his imitation of his model ; but on the 
 whole he is singularly successful in echoing 
 Lamb's thoughts, and in copying his manner. 
 Like most of the writers who have been 
 gifted with a genius for parody, Horace 
 Smith when attempting originality was a 
 very mediocre writer — though he now and 
 then (as in his well-known verses entitled 
 " Address to the Mummy at Belzoni's Exhibi- 
 tion ") rose above his ordinary level. Few 
 of his original essays can compare in 
 excellence with "Death — Posthumous Memo- 
 rials — Children. ' ' 
 
 * The essay is followed in the magazine by 
 some verses headed " Lines on the Death of an 
 Infant," but these are so indifferent in quality that 
 it seems not worth while to reproduce them. 
 
 73
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 III 
 
 SOME NE\(rLY DISCOVERED CONTRI- 
 BUTIONS BY LAMB TO THE 
 "LONDON MAGAZINE" 
 
 "When I first began to examine the volumes 
 of the London Magazine in the hope of find- 
 ing some hitherto overlooked matter of 
 interest relating to Lamb it was with little 
 expectation of making any remarkable dis- 
 coveries. I naturally supposed that former 
 investigators had gone carefully over the 
 ground, and must have found whatever was 
 worth finding that had any^^relation to Elia. 
 It was therefore with no less surprise than 
 pleasure that I found that this was by no 
 means the case, and that very considerable 
 gleanings had been left for me to gather. 
 Former investigators seem to have contented 
 themselves with looking for such articles as 
 bore some obvious evidence of Lamb's 
 
 74
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 authorship : it does not seem to have 
 occurred to any of them to search through 
 the magazine for articles which might be 
 proved to be his from internal evidence. 
 The latter was the method upon which I 
 proceeded ; and I think the reader will 
 presently own that it proved to be a much 
 more fruitful one than might have been 
 expected. 
 
 The search for articles by Lamb which 
 bore no signature (or a misleading one) did 
 not prove an altogether easy task. Of course, 
 the first requisite for the work was a good 
 acquaintance with his acknowledged works, 
 and a feeling for his peculiar manner and 
 mannerisms.* 
 
 Another difficulty in the way was the fact 
 that Lamb had then (as he has now) a good 
 many admirers who imitated his style as 
 closely as they could. From this cause 
 several articles, which I at first thought 
 
 * Lest the last sentence should seem somewhat too 
 presumptuous let me say here that I make no claim 
 to any special power of deciding by evidence of style 
 what is or is not Lamb's. No doubt there are many 
 good Elians (if I may be allowed to coin the expres- 
 sion) who would have made the same discoveries if 
 they had started on the same path as myself. 
 
 75
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 might be his, had to be rejected on a further 
 and closer examination. As a final result I 
 found a fair number of pieces which I attri- 
 bute confidently to his pen, and others which 
 I believe are probably, but not certainly, his. 
 These I shall now proceed to make known 
 to the reader. 
 
 I have already stated that there is nothing 
 in the first seven numbers of the London 
 Magazine which can reasonably be attributed 
 to Lamb, His contributions began with 
 Number 8, in which the first of his Elia 
 essays (" Recollections of the South Sea 
 House ") appeared. In the same number 
 appeared the first of the articles which, on 
 internal evidence, I attribute to him. This 
 is a review of the poems of Bernard Barton. 
 I think there can be very little doubt as to 
 Lamb's authorship of this. The writer of 
 the article says of Barton and his poems, just 
 what, with our knowledge of Lamb's esteem 
 and friendship for the Quaker poet, we should 
 expect him to say. All that is said in praise 
 of the Quakers, and especially of female 
 Quakers, is, as we know, in accordance with 
 what he has said elsewhere about them. 
 Let the reader compare what is said about a 
 
 76
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Quaker beauty in the review with the follow- 
 ing passage from " A Quaker's Meeting " : 
 
 Every Quakeress is a lily; and when they 
 come up in bands to their "Whitsun-conferences, 
 whitening the easterly streets of the metropolis, 
 from all parts of the United Kingdom, they 
 show Kke troops of the Shining Ones, 
 
 May we not reasonably believe that this 
 passage, and that in the review, came from 
 the same hand ; and that both were inspired 
 by the remembrance of his affection for 
 the beautiful Quakeress, Hester Savory ? I 
 cannot help thinking so myself, whatever 
 conclusion others may come to. 
 
 [REVIEW)/ OF BARTON'S POEMS] 
 
 "We have felt a good deal interested in this 
 volume, in consequence of hearing that its 
 author is one of the Society of Friends ; but 
 certainly it cannot be said of him, that he sees 
 creation clothed in a drab-coloured suit. He 
 writes stanzas to ladies, verses to valleys, and 
 a lyrical address to the Gallic eagle ; — and all 
 this he does in as quick, free, and lively a 
 spirit, as any worldling poet that can be 
 
 77
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 named. The only peculiarity we can dis- 
 cover about the pieces, indicative of their 
 v^rriter's sect, is their extreme benevolence, 
 and spotless innocence. In these respects, 
 indeed, his muse may be said to possess a 
 lovely Quaker countenance, — such as we have 
 sometimes had the good fortune to see in 
 stage coaches, and have invariably fallen in 
 love with, whenever we have seen it. The 
 eye sparkling, but quiet in self-possession 
 and modesty; the delicate complexion re- 
 flecting health of body and mind ; the 
 regular features, ever undisturbed by way- 
 ward or lawless feelings : — such is a Quaker 
 beauty ; graceful in reserve, — holy as a nun, 
 yet performing, or ready to perform, her 
 proper part in society ; — a Venus in a poke- 
 bonnet, whose presence causes strangers to 
 feel the authority and power of virtue, and 
 to discipline their discourse, so as to pay 
 homage to purity ! We really wish that 
 Mr. Barton, who has so much better oppor- 
 tunities than we can boast of, to contemplate 
 the bewitching originals of this description, 
 would send us a poetical portrait of some 
 young and lovely friend, in whom the char- 
 acteristic features of the sect are intimately 
 
 78
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 united with the captivations of the charming 
 woman. We should be proud to see it 
 adorning the pages of the London Magazine, 
 with its fine Madonna, Bethlem aspect. "We 
 had rather have it in our cabinet collection 
 than any of Mrs. Mier's gallery — except 
 Lady Jersey, whose beauty, if she were but 
 a Quaker, would be altogether fatal. "We 
 have reason, therefore, to thank heaven 
 that she is contented to be the queen of 
 Almack's. 
 
 The volume before us, generally speaking, 
 is filled with the amiable effusions of a kind 
 and gifted mind, whose internal harmony is 
 in beautiful unison with the melody of ex- 
 ternal nature, and of virtue. More brilliant 
 compositions, more finished and powerful 
 poetry, we have often met with ; but we have 
 never met with any that afforded more un- 
 equivocal indication of genuine feeling, of 
 deep affection, of benevolence, sympathy, 
 taste, and integrity. The writer seems to 
 have an ear ever on the listen for the 
 accents of charity, patriotism, and religion, — 
 that he may catch their burthen, and prolong 
 their sound : wherever human anguish causes 
 the tear to start, there would he fain be to 
 
 79
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 soothe or alleviate : whatever has really 
 deserved well of fame, he is proud to cele- 
 brate : and the choicest and coyest charms 
 of nature have smitten his heart with indel- 
 ible impressions. 
 
 For these reasons the contents of his book 
 form a catalogue of the best, the most beau- 
 tiful, and the most touching subjects : all 
 that is most calculated to improve and 
 delight the mind, is there to be found, — in 
 short, we cannot conceive a more lively 
 reflection of a worthy character than this 
 collection of poems. 
 
 That the expression is always on a par 
 with the feeling we cannot say : the writer's 
 style, as it strikes us, is very unequal ; and, 
 in the simplicity of conscious sincerity, we 
 sometimes find him commonplace in phrase, 
 and careless in construction. It is very 
 easily to be seen that Mr. Barton is not a 
 professional writer : — we find very ordinary 
 lines often following very good ones, in his 
 compositions, in a way that declares him 
 disdainful of the labour necessary to avoid 
 this, and to give his powers fair play. Near 
 his most lively images are placed some of 
 the dullest ; and common prosing is too 
 
 80
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 frequently hard on the heels of passages of 
 genuine poetry. — We should, on the whole, 
 then, set him down as an amateur of distin- 
 guished talent, ready to celebrate any worthy 
 subject that offers itself ; one that ought to 
 be, and no doubt is, highly prized in the 
 circles, and amongst the acquaintance, 
 where, and to whom, he acts as laureate. 
 
 The first quotation we shall make from 
 Mr. Barton's volume will be a piece to which 
 we are led by hearty coincidence of senti- 
 ment with the author. It is addressed to 
 "Wordsworth " on the publication of his poem, 
 entitled Peter Bell." 
 
 Beautiful poet ! as thou art, 
 
 In spite of all that critics tell, 
 I thank thee, even from my heart, 
 
 For this, thy tale of "Peter Bell." 
 It is a story worthy one 
 Who thinks, feels, loves, as thou hast done. 
 
 It is a story worthy too 
 
 Of a more simple, primal age, 
 When feelings, natural, tender, true, 
 
 Hallow'd the poet's humblest page : 
 Ere trick'ry had usurp'd the place 
 Of unsophisticated grace. 
 
 I quarrel not with those who deem 
 
 Essential to poetic mood. 
 High-sounding phrase, and lofty theme, 
 
 And " ready arts to freeze the blood" ; 
 81 F
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Intent to dazzle, or appal ; 
 But nature still is best of all. 
 
 Continue still to cultivate, 
 
 In thy sequester'd solitude, 
 Those high conceptions which await 
 
 The musings of the wise and good; 
 Conceptions lofty, pure, and bright. 
 Which iill thy soul with heavenly light. 
 
 Betake thee to thy groves and fields, 
 Thy rocky vales, and mountains bare, 
 
 And give us all that nature yields 
 Of manners, feelings, habits there: 
 
 Please and instruct the present age, 
 
 And live in history's latest page. 
 
 The poem entitled " Recollections " opens, 
 we think, very beautifully : 
 
 All round was still and calm; the noon of night 
 
 Was fast approaching: up the unclouded sky 
 The glorious moon pursued her path of light, 
 
 And shed her silvery splendour far and nigh: 
 No sound, save of the night-wind's gentlest sigh. 
 
 Could reach the ear; and that so softly blew, 
 It scarely stirrd, in sweeping lightly by. 
 
 The acacia's airy foliage ; faintly too 
 It kiss'd the jasmine's stars which just below me grew. 
 
 Before me, scatter'd here and there, were trees 
 Whose massy outlme of reposing shade. 
 
 Unbroken by that faint and fitful breeze, 
 With the clear sky a lovely contrast made : 
 
 'Twas nature, in her chastest charms array'd ! 
 How could I then abruptly leave such scene ? 
 
 82
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 I could not ; for the beauties it display'd 
 To me were dearer than the dazzling sheen 
 Of noon's effulgent hour, or morning's sparkling mien. 
 
 Awhile in silent reverie I stood, 
 
 Pensively gazing on the objects round ; 
 And soon my mind, in contemplative mood, 
 
 Abundant theme for meditation found; 
 And far beyond the shadowy visible bound 
 
 Of my eye's glance did eager fancy fly; 
 Nor even Virtue on her flight then frown'd, 
 
 But mark'd her progress with approving eye. 
 For heav'n-ward was her course, her visions pure and 
 high. 
 
 They err, who calculate time's silent pace 
 
 By the mere lapse of minutes, or of hours ; 
 Not even thought his printless step can trace, 
 
 ^A^hich hastens onward, over thorns and flowers, 
 Nor cares for sun that shines, or storm thatlow'rs, 
 
 'Twere wiser far in us to count its flight 
 By the improvement of our mental powers, 
 
 And by the store of suffering, or delight, 
 Which cheers Life's fleeting day, or clouds Death's 
 coming night. 
 
 What we have said of the amiable turn of 
 the author's character, will be fully borne 
 out to the reader's mind by such pieces as 
 the following, — and there are several of the 
 same character in the collection. 
 
 THE MOTHER'S LAMENT. 
 
 Pale and cold is the cheek that my kisses oft press'd, 
 And quench'd is the beam of that bright sparkling 
 eye; 
 
 83
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 For the soul, which its innocent glances confess'd, 
 Has flown to its God and its Father on high. 
 
 No more shall the accents, whose tones were more 
 dear 
 
 Than the sweetest of sounds even music can make, 
 In notes full of tenderness fall on my ear; 
 
 If I catch them in dreams, all is still when I wake! 
 
 No more the gay smiles that those features display'd, 
 Shall transiently light up their own mirth in mine; 
 
 Yet, though these, and much more, be now cover'd in 
 shade, 
 I must not, I cannot, and dare not repine. 
 
 However enchantingly flattering and fair, 
 
 Were the hopes, that for thee, I had ventur'd to 
 build, 
 Can a frail, finite mortal presume to declare 
 
 That the future those hopes would have ever ful- 
 fill'd? 
 
 In the world thou hast left, there is much to allure 
 The most innocent spirit from virtue and peace: 
 
 Hadst thou liv'd, would thy own have been equally 
 pure, 
 And guileless, and happy, in age's increase ? 
 
 Temptation, or sooner or later, had found thee ; 
 
 Perhaps had seduc'd thee from pathways of light; 
 Till the dark clouds of vice, gath'ring gloomily round 
 thee. 
 
 Had enwrapt thee for ever in horror and night. 
 
 But now, in the loveliest bloom of the soul, 
 While thy heart yet was pangless, and true, and 
 unstain'd ; 
 Ere the world one vain wish by its witcheries stole, 
 What it could not confer, thou for ever hast gain'd! 
 
 84
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Like a dew-drop, kiss'd off by the sun's morning beam, 
 A brief, but a beauteous existence was given ; 
 
 Thy soul seem'd to come down to earth, in a dream, 
 And only to wake, when ascended to heaven ! 
 
 There is something infinitely touching and 
 fanciful in the following three verses, taken 
 from several addressed to " Sleep " : 
 
 With angel eye, and a brow that never 
 
 Had been other than meekly calm ; 
 And lips which a soft smile seems to sever, 
 
 Such as shed round a soothing charm ; 
 With a step more light than Zephyr's sigh, 
 Would I paint thee, in loveliness passing by. 
 
 Such could I fancy thee, roving far 
 
 Beneath the pale moon's glistening beam ; 
 
 Or the fainter light of heaven's fairest star. 
 Attended by many a shadowy dream : 
 
 These purer visions, in mercy given 
 
 To slumbering souls, when they dream of heaven ! 
 
 By an infant's couch I behold thee sit, 
 Its widow'd parent's earthly treasure; 
 
 And over its features, like sunshine, flit 
 
 Bright gleams of half unconscious pleasure: 
 
 Smiles of a spirit that knows no fears. 
 
 Such as belong not to after years. 
 
 In the piece addressed to a father, on the 
 death of his only child, we find the following 
 striking verse : 
 
 85
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 I grant that the stroke which has laid thy hopes low, 
 Is perhaps the severest that nature can know; 
 If hope but defery'd, may cause sickness of heart, 
 How dreadful to see it for ever depart ! 
 
 In conclusion we shall quote one entire 
 piece, doing equal credit to the head and 
 heart of the estimable writer. 
 
 STANZAS 
 Addressed to Percy Bysshe Shelley 
 
 Forests, and lakes, the majesty of mountains, 
 
 The dazzling glaciers, and the musical sound 
 Of waves and winds, or softer gush of fountains : 
 
 In sights and sounds like these thy soul has found 
 Sublime delight; but can the visible bound 
 
 Of this small globe be the sole nurse and mother 
 Of knowledge and of feeling ? Look around ! 
 
 Mark how one being differs from another; 
 Yet the worlds book is spread before each human 
 brother. 
 
 Was this world, then, the parent and the nurse 
 
 Of him whose mental eye outliv'd the sight 
 Of all its beauties ? — Him who sang the curse 
 
 Of that forbidden fruit, which did invite 
 Our first progenitors, whom that foul sprite. 
 
 In serpent-form, seduc'd from innocence. 
 By specious promises, that wrong and right, 
 
 Evil and good, when they had gather'd thence, 
 Should be distinctly seen, as by diviner sense .' 
 
 They pluck'd, and paid the awful penalty 
 Of disobedience : yet man will not learn 
 
 To be content with knowledge that is free 
 
 To all. There are, whose soaring spirits spurn 
 
 86
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 At humble lore, and, still insatiate, turn 
 
 From living fountains to forbidden springs ; 
 
 Whence having proudly quaff'd, their bosoms burn 
 With visions of unutterable things. 
 
 Which restless fancy's spell in shadowy glory brings- 
 
 Delicious the delirious bliss, while new; 
 
 Unreal phantoms of wise, good, and fair, 
 Hover around, in every vivid hue 
 
 Of glowing beauty; these dissolve in air, 
 And leave the barren spirit bleak and bare 
 
 As alpine summits : it remains to try 
 The hopeless task (of which themselves despair) 
 
 Of bringing back those feelings, now gone by, 
 By making their own dreams the code of all society. 
 
 " All fear, none aid them, and few comprehend " ; 
 
 And then comes disappointment, and the blight 
 Of hopes, that might have bless'd mankind, but end 
 
 In stoic apathy, or starless night : 
 And thus hath many a spirit, pure and bright. 
 
 Lost that effulgent and ethereal ray, 
 Which, had religion nourish'd it, still might 
 
 Have shone on, peerless, to that perfect day. 
 When death's veil shall be rent, and darkness dash'd. 
 away. 
 
 Ere it shall prove too late, thy steps retrace : 
 
 The heights thy muse has scal'd, can never be 
 Her loveliest, or her safest dwelling-place. 
 
 In the deep valley of humility. 
 The river of immortal life flows free 
 
 For thee— for all. Oh ! taste its limpid wave, 
 As it rolls murmuring by, and thou shalt see 
 
 Nothing in death the Christian dares not brave, 
 Whom faith in God has given a world beyond the 
 grave ! 
 
 87
 
 SIDE LIGHTS ON 
 
 In the December number of the magazine 
 there appeared a letter headed "The 
 Quakers," which purported to be written by 
 a member of the Society of Friends. It is a 
 letter of thanks for the review of Barton's 
 Poems, and for the reviewer's good opinion 
 of the Quaker community. The writer ends 
 by quoting a passage from a poem by Luke 
 Booker, entitled " The Hop Garden." I 
 quote a part of this because it coincides so 
 closely with some of Lamb's expressions 
 regarding the Quakers that it seems likely 
 he was acquainted with it : 
 
 One mode of dress contents them ; and but few 
 The colours of their choice, — the gaudy shunn'd 
 E'en by the gentle Sisterhood. In youth, 
 The rose's vivid hue their cheeks alone, 
 Wear, dimpling, — shaded by a bonnet plain. 
 White as the cygnet's bosom, — jetty black 
 As raven's wing, — or if a tint it bear, 
 'Tis what the harmless dove herself assumes. 
 — The hardier sex — an unloop'd hat, broad- 
 
 brimm'd, 
 Shelters from summer's heat and winter's cold: 
 That, from its station high ne'er deigns to 
 
 stoop — 
 Obsequious, nor to custom nor to king. 
 
 88
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Yet tho' precise and primitive in speech — 
 Restrain they not the smile, — the seemly jest — 
 Nor e'en the cordial laugh, which cynics grave 
 Falsely assert " bespeaks the vacant mind." 
 
 It is in the third volume of the London 
 Magazine that I have found what are perhaps 
 the most interesting of the hitherto unknown 
 writings of Lamb. The first of them is a set 
 of verses, which are, I think, almost certainly 
 from his pen. They may not seem so on a 
 first perusal ; but I think that on a little 
 reflection the reader will be pretty sure to 
 agree with my opinion. The verses are as 
 follows : 
 
 VERSES 
 
 To Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and 
 
 Brown, on their publication of 
 
 A)C"ordsworth's " Excursion " 
 
 in Octavo. 
 
 Aye ! this, as Cobbet says, is right ! — 
 Just as it should be ! — With delight, 
 
 For one, I give my bravo ! 
 And thank you for enabling me 
 Upon my humble shelf, to see 
 
 " The Excursion" — in Octavo ! 
 
 89
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Long have I grieved that such a mine 
 Of Poesy's true lore divine, 
 
 Rich veins of thought affording ; 
 Should be half inaccessible, 
 By means of that forbidding spell 
 
 Which lurks in quarto boarding. 
 
 'Tis not the cumbrous shape alone. 
 Though that, I candidly must own, 
 
 A tangible objection : 
 For books which one is only able 
 To read — by spreading on a table. 
 
 Seldom invite inspection. 
 
 Yet bulk I should not heed one pin, 
 In books that are worth looking in — 
 
 There is a much worse evil : 
 Twelve shillings, for a book like this, 
 E'en for poor bards, is not amiss, — 
 
 Two guineas is — the d— 1 ! 
 
 And never more so, than when set 
 Upon a tome one wants to get ; 
 
 Then — then indeed we feel it : — 
 Un pauvre diahle, tel que nioi. 
 Is tempted to infringe the law. 
 
 And, from pure taste, to steal it ! 
 
 But, such a speculation might 
 Be awkward ; so it is but right 
 
 90
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 To end such lawless thrillings, — 
 By publishing to all the town, 
 That Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 
 
 Now sell it for twelve shillings. 
 
 That these verses were written by Lamb 
 as a friendly advertisement of "Wordsworth's 
 poem is, I think, fairly certain. It was such 
 an act as his friendship and admiration for 
 "Wordsworth would naturally suggest to him : 
 and it is altogether in unison with the senti- 
 ments which he expresses in other places. 
 Thus, in the first letter which has been 
 preserved of his correspondence with Cole- 
 ridge, he says : " "When Southey becomes 
 as modest as his predecessor, Milton, and 
 publishes his Epics in duodecimo, I will 
 read 'em ; a guinea a book is somewhat 
 exorbitant, nor have I the opportunity of 
 borrowing the work." Here is plainly the 
 germ of the verses on the " Excursion " ; and 
 it is, I think, almost enough of itself to justify 
 their attribution to Lamb. The verses, I may 
 add, follow immediately on the Elia essay, 
 " Mrs. Battle's Opinions on Whist." On the 
 whole I think that though we are not entitled 
 to ascribe the lines positively to Lamb, the 
 
 91
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 balance of probabilities is at least in favour 
 of his authorship of them. 
 
 The next piece I shall print is the most 
 interesting and curious of all my discoveries. 
 That it is Lamb's, cannot, I think, be doubted 
 — that is by any one competent to judge. It 
 bears his sign-manual on every sentence, 
 almost, one might say, on every word. But 
 let the reader judge for himself : 
 
 THE CONFESSIONS OF H. F, V, H, 
 DELAMORE, ESQ, 
 
 Sackville Street, March 25, 1821. 
 
 Mr. Editor, — A correspondent in your last 
 Number,* blesses his stars, that he was never 
 yet in the pillory ; and, with a confidence 
 which the uncertainty of mortal accidents but 
 weakly justifies, goes on to predict that he 
 never shall be. Twelve years ago, had a 
 Sibyl prophesied to me, that I should live to 
 be set in a worse place, I should have struck 
 her for a lying beldam. There are degrada- 
 tions below that which he speaks of. 
 
 I come of a good stock, Mr, Editor, The 
 Delamores are a race singularly tenacious of 
 
 •^ Elia : — Chapter on Ears. 
 92
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 their honour ; men who, in the language of 
 Edmund Burke, feel a stain like a wound. 
 My grand uncle died of a fit of the sullens 
 for the disgrace of a public whipping at 
 Westminster. He had not then attained 
 his fourteenth year. Would I had died 
 young ! 
 
 For more than five centuries, the current 
 of our blood hath flowed unimpeachably. 
 And must it stagnate now? 
 
 Can a family be tainted backwards ? — can 
 posterity purchase disgrace for their pro- 
 genitors ? — or doth it derogate from the great 
 "Walter of our name, who received the sword 
 of knighthood in Cressy field, that one of his 
 descendants once sate ** *** ****** ? 
 
 Can an honour, fairly achieved in quinto 
 Edwardi Tertii, be reversed by a slip in 
 quinqttagcslmo Georgii Tertli f — how stands 
 the law? — what dictum doth the college 
 deliver ? — O Clarencieux ! O Norroy ! 
 
 Can a reputation, gained by hard watch- 
 ings on the cold ground, in a suit of mail, be 
 impeached by hard watchings on the cold 
 ground in other circumstances — was the 
 endurance equal ? — why is the guerdon so 
 disproportionate ? 
 
 93
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 A priest mediated the ransom of the too 
 valorous Reginald, of our house, captived in 
 Lord Talbot's battles. It was a clergyman, 
 who by his intercession abridged the period 
 of my durance. 
 
 Have you touched at my wrongs yet, Mr. 
 Editor? — or must I be explicit as to my 
 grievance ? 
 
 Hush, my heedless tongue. 
 
 Something bids me — " Delamore, be in- 
 genuous." 
 
 Once then, and only once 
 
 Star of my nativity, hide beneath a cloud, 
 while I reveal it ! 
 
 Ancestors of Delamore, lie low in your 
 wormy beds, that no posthumous hearing 
 catch a sound ! 
 
 Let no eye look over thee, while thou shalt 
 peruse it, reader ! 
 
 Once 
 
 these legs, with Kent in the play, though 
 for far less ennobling considerations, did 
 wear "cruel garters." 
 
 Yet I protest it was but for a thing of 
 nought — a fault of youth, and warmer blood 
 — a calendary inadvertence I may call it — 
 or rather a temporary obliviousness of the 
 
 94
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 day of the week — timing my Saturnalia 
 amiss. 
 
 Streets of Barnet, infamous for civil broils, 
 ye saw my shame ! — did not your Red Rose 
 rise again to dye my burning cheek ? 
 
 It was but for a pair of minutes, or so — 
 yet I feel, I feel, that the gentry of the 
 Delamores is extinguished for ever. — 
 
 Try to forget it, reader. — 
 (Signed) 
 Henry Francis Vere Harrington Delamore. 
 
 I do not think I need spend much pains in 
 demonstrating that this " Confession " is from 
 the pen of Lamb. I had only to become 
 acquainted with it, to be convinced as to its 
 authorship. "Whether it will approve itself 
 as Lamb's as readily to others as it did to 
 me I do not know ; but fortunately there is 
 evidence, apart from that of style, which is 
 sufficient, I think, to produce conviction in 
 the most sceptical. The " Confessions " 
 appeared in the number for April 1821 ; in 
 the next number of the magazine, the 
 following notice appeared in " The Lion's 
 Head " : 
 
 Spes may be assured that the fact related in 
 
 95
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 the paper in our last Number, signed " Dela- 
 more," and dated " Sackville Street," is genuine, 
 with the exception of the name and date. It is 
 the writer's own story. 
 
 quseque ipse miserrima vidi, 
 
 Et quorum pars magni fui. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 The four stars with which this notice is 
 signed, and which may stand either for 
 " Elia "or " Lamb," are used elsewhere in 
 the magazine as the signature to two of 
 Lamb's undoubted Poems (the Sonnet to 
 Barry Cornwall, and "The Ape"). But, 
 the reader may object, the writer of the 
 notice states that Delamore's " Confession " is 
 his own story ; and this means, if Lamb 
 really was the author, that he was once put 
 in the stocks ! This does not necessarily 
 follow — for, knowing Lamb's tendency to 
 mystification, we need only suppose it to be 
 one of his sportive hoaxes. In this case, 
 however, Lamb was quite serious. It is no 
 fiction, but a sober fact that he was once put 
 in the stocks ! I hope I shall not shock his 
 admirers too greatly by this disclosure. 
 Some of them may be inclined to think that 
 it is a fact that should have been concealed. 
 
 96
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 I am not of this opinion, or I certainly should 
 not now disclose it. Nor was Lamb himself, 
 it would appear, very desirous of concealing 
 it : or he would not thus have made material 
 for " copy " of it. He must have known 
 that some of his fellow contributors on the 
 magazine, if not some of its readers, would 
 become acquainted with the story of his 
 escapade, owing to the publication of the 
 Delamore ' ' Confessions. ' ' Nothing could well 
 be more characteristic of him than thus to 
 make a jest of what would have been a very 
 sore point to most people. I do not hesitate 
 to say that if any of Lamb's admirers are 
 disposed to think the worse of him on 
 account of this incident they are not worthy 
 to be enrolled in the ranks of true Elians. 
 
 When I first read the notice to Spes respect- 
 ing the Delamore " Confession," I was, of 
 course, somewhat puzzled by the assertion 
 that it was a part of the writer's own experi- 
 ence. But when I made my discovery 
 known to my friend, Mr. E. V. Lucas, he at 
 once informed me that there is evidence in 
 existence which proves that Lamb really 
 was, on one occasion, put in the stocks. 
 This evidence, so kindly communicated to 
 
 97 G
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 me, Mr. Lucas will doubtless make known 
 in his forthcoming Life of Lamb. Suffice it 
 now to say that Lamb's own account of the 
 matter is, no doubt, substantially true. His 
 offence was " but a thing of nought — a fault 
 of youth and warmer blood — a calendary 
 inadvertence ; "* and his punishment — which 
 lasted but for a pair of minutes or so — was 
 probably as much a jest on the part of those 
 who ordered it as was the untimely merri- 
 ment by which it was provoked. 
 
 Perhaps it is worth while to remark that 
 Lamb's " Reflections in the Pillory " was, in 
 all probability, suggested by the Delamore 
 " Confessions." The humour of the " Reflec- 
 tions," though superior, is certainly of the 
 same kind as that of the " Confessions " ; 
 and we have thus reason to be grateful to 
 the Bumbles to whom we are indirectly 
 indebted for two such characteristic examples 
 of Elian humour. 
 
 I have not found in the fourth volume of 
 the London Magazine any unknown articles 
 which can be safely attributed to Lamb. 
 But in the fifth volume, I have found, on 
 page 53, the following " Dramatic Fragment," 
 * The incident took place on a Sunday. 
 
 98
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 which will be new to most, though not to all, 
 lovers of Elia. 
 
 DRAMATIC FRAGMENT 
 
 Fie upon^t 
 All men are false, I think. The date of love 
 Is out, expired, its stories all groimi stale, 
 O' er-past, forgotten like an antique tale 
 Of Hero and Leander. 
 
 John Woodvil. 
 
 All are not false, I knew a youth who died 
 
 For grief, because his Love proved so, 
 
 And married with another. 
 
 I saw him on the wedding day, 
 
 For he was present in the church that day 
 
 In festive bravery deck'd. 
 
 As one that came to grace the ceremony. 
 
 I mark'd him when the ring was given. 
 
 His countenance never chang'd ; 
 
 And when the priest pronounced the marriage 
 
 blessing. 
 He put a silent prayer up for the bride, 
 For so his moving lips interpreted. 
 He came invited to the marriage feast 
 With the bride's friends, 
 And was the merriest of them all that day : 
 But they who knew him best call'd it feign'd 
 
 mirth : 
 
 99
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 And others said 
 
 He wore a smile like death upon his face. 
 
 His presence dash'd all the beholders' mirth, 
 
 And he went away in tears. 
 
 Whai followed then? 
 
 Oh ! then 
 
 He did not, as neglected suitors use, 
 
 Affect a life of solitude in shades, 
 
 But lived, 
 
 In free discourse and sweet society. 
 
 Among his friends who knew his gentle nature 
 
 best. 
 Yet ever when he smiled. 
 There was a mystery legible in his face, 
 That whoso saw him said he was a man 
 
 Not long for this world. 
 
 And true it was, for even then, 
 
 The silent love was feeding at his heart 
 
 Of which he died : 
 
 Nor ever spake word of reproach. 
 
 Only he wish'd in death that his remains 
 
 Might find a poor grave in some spot, not far, 
 
 From his mistress' family vault, " being the place 
 
 Where one day Anna should herself be laid." 
 
 * * * 
 
 This " Dramatic Fragment " originally 
 formed part of Lamb's " John "Woodvil ; " 
 but when that play was published, it was, 
 
 100
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 together with some other passages, omitted. 
 These omitted passages, however, were 
 published from the original manuscript, 
 by the late Mr. Dykes Campbell in the 
 Athenmim. The fragment has also been 
 printed by Mr. W. C. Hazlitt in his 
 " Charles and Mary Lamb." Nevertheless, 
 I think the reader will be pleased to see 
 the lines reprinted here in the form and 
 manner in which their author originally 
 published them. 
 
 In the sixth volume of the magazine a new 
 feature was started, under the heading of 
 " The Miscellany." This was introduced as 
 follows : 
 
 We propose to establish a place of refuge for 
 small ingenious productions. A short poem, 
 an original thought, a good jest, an interesting 
 fact, a new discovery (in science or art), anec- 
 dotes (whether in philosophy, biography, 
 natural history, or otherwise), shall all be 
 welcome. We only stipulate that they shall 
 be good. In a word, we mean to provide for 
 the younger children of the Wits and the 
 Muses, and others, who have been immemori- 
 ally disabled from sheltering their own off- 
 spring. The character of our Miscellany will 
 
 101
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 be brevity, — which is the soul of wit, as every 
 body knows. . . . 
 
 The series began with a note about Friar 
 Bacon, and a poem, neither of which need 
 now detain us. These are followed by some 
 " Scraps of Criticism," the authorship of 
 which, in my opinion, is sufficiently evident. 
 AlCere it not so, the Editor's reference to "the 
 fine Roman hand " of his contributor, would, 
 I think, be sufficient to identify him. The 
 " Scraps" are thus introduced : 
 
 Our next contributor calls his paper 
 " Scraps of Criticism." ^X/'e think that we 
 know " the fine Roman hand," — but let that 
 pass. It is enough, perhaps, (for our readers) 
 that the remarks are good. "Whether we 
 translate them from the Syriac or Chaldee, 
 or transcribe them from vellum or papy- 
 rus, is a question which we cannot now 
 explain. The two first "Scraps" refer to 
 Gray's Poems, and take novel (and, what is 
 better, just) exceptions to two passages which 
 they contain. — Johnson has been abused 
 more, perhaps, for undervaluing the merits 
 of Gray, than for any of his offences against 
 
 102
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 literature. For our own parts, we think that 
 he has been abused unjustly. "Were we to 
 cast a stone at him, it would be for his life 
 of Milton. But Gray has, of all poets in the 
 English language, the least right to complain. 
 His reputation is enormously too great for the 
 foundation upon which it rests. No doubt that 
 he had learning, and a pleasant way of com-> 
 municating his thoughts. But his language 
 is, beyond even that of his contemporaries, 
 artificial ; and his poems are not remarkable 
 either for original thought or even felicity of 
 expression. His " Elegy " is clearly the first 
 of his compositions : there is a tender vein 
 of melancholy running through it ; and the 
 reflections, generally speaking, if not very 
 profound, are graceful and pleasing. — The 
 " Scrap " upon the word " villain " is a very 
 material one ; inasmuch as it seems to be the 
 key, or leading word, to the character of 
 Richard, as it is seen on the stage. With 
 regard to " Howell's Letters," — certainly our 
 friend Howell has taken an odd pro and con 
 view of the same subject. Perhaps he had 
 one eye for the good, and one for the bad — 
 and saw with them alternately, Thu s " to wink 
 at a person's faults " is to shut the bad eye. 
 
 103
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 SCRAPS OF CRITICISM. 
 
 Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid 
 
 Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire; 
 
 Hands that the rod of empire might have sway'd, 
 Or waked to ecstacy the living lyre. 
 
 Gray's Elegy. 
 
 There has always appeared to me a vicious 
 mixture of the figurative with the real in this 
 admired passage. The first two lines may 
 barely pass, as not bad. But the hands laid 
 in the earth, must mean the identical five- 
 finger'd organs of the body ; aud how does 
 this consist with their occupation of swaying 
 rods, unless their owner had been a school- 
 master ; or waking lyres, unless he were 
 literally a harper by profession ? Hands that 
 " might have held the plough," would have 
 some sense, for that work is strictly manual ; 
 the others only emblematically or pictorially 
 so. Kings nowadays sway no rods, alias 
 sceptres, except on their coronation day ; 
 and poets necessarily strum upon the harp 
 or fiddle, as poets. 'NX/'hen we think upon 
 dead cold fingers, we may remember the 
 honest squeeze of friendship which they 
 returned heretofore ; we cannot but with 
 violence connect their living idea, as opposed 
 
 104
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 to death, with uses to which they must 
 become metaphorical {i.e., less real than dead 
 things themselves) before we can so with any 
 propriety apply them. 
 
 He saw, but, blasted with excess of light, 
 Closed his eyes in endless night. 
 
 Gray's Bard. 
 
 Nothing was ever more violently distorted, 
 than this material fact of Milton's blindness 
 having been occasioned by his intemperate 
 studies, and late hours, during his prosecu- 
 tion of the defence against Salmasius — 
 applied to the dazzling effects of too much 
 mental vision. His corporal sight was blasted 
 with corporal occupation ; his inward sight 
 was not impaired, but rather strengthened, 
 by his task. If his course of studies had 
 turned his brain, there would have been some 
 fitness in the expression. 
 
 And since I cannot, I will prove a villain, 
 And hate the idle pleasures of these days. 
 
 Soliloquy in Richard III. 
 
 The performers, whom I have seen in this 
 part, seem to mistake the import of the word 
 which I have marked with italics. Richard 
 
 105
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 does not mean, that because he is by shape 
 and temper unfitted for a comiicr, he is 
 therefore determined to prove, in our sense 
 of the word, a ivicked man. The word in 
 Shakespeare's time had not passed entirely 
 into the modern sense ; it was in its passage 
 certainly, and indifferently used as such ; 
 the beauty of a world of words in that age 
 was in their being less definite than they are 
 now, fixed, and petrified. Villain is here 
 undoubtedly used for a chtud, or cloivn, 
 opposed to a conrtier ; and the incipient 
 deterioration of the meaning gave the use of 
 it in this place great spirit and beauty. A 
 ivicked man does not necessarily hate contily 
 pleasures ; a clown is naturally opposed to 
 them. The mistake of this meaning has, I 
 think, led the players into that hard literal 
 conception with which they deliver this 
 passage, quite foreign, in my understanding, 
 to the bold gay-faced irony of the soliloquy. 
 Richard, upon the stage, looks round, as if 
 he were literally apprehensive of some dog 
 snapping at him ; and announces his deter- 
 mination of procuring a looking-glass, and 
 employing a tailor, as if he were prepared 
 to put both in practice before he should 
 
 106
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 get home — I apprehend " a world of figures 
 here." 
 
 Howell's Letters. " The treaty of the match 
 'twixt our Prince [afterwards Charles I.] and 
 the Lady Infanta, is now strongly a foot : she 
 is a very comely lady, rather of a Flemish 
 complexion than Spanish, fair haired, and 
 carrieth a most pure mixture of red and 
 white in her face. She is full and big-lipp'd; 
 which is held a beauty rather than a blemisJi, 
 or rather excess in the Austrian family, it being 
 a thing incident to most of that race ; she goes 
 now upon 16, and is of a tallness agreeable 
 to those years." This letter bears date, 
 Jan. 5, 1622. Turn we now to a letter 
 dated May 16, 1626. The wind was now 
 changed about, the Spanish match broken off, 
 and Charles had become the husband of 
 Henrietta. " I thank you for your late letter, 
 and the several good tidings sent me from 
 "Wales. In requital I can send you gallant 
 news, for we have now a most noble new 
 Queen of England, who in true beauty is 
 beyond the long-woo'd Infanta ; for she 
 was of a fading flaxen hair, big-lipp'd, and 
 
 107
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 somewhat heavy-eyed ; but this daughter of 
 
 France, this youngest branch of Bourbon 
 
 (being but in her cradle when the great 
 
 Henry, her father, was put out of the world) 
 
 is of a more lovely and lasting complexion, a 
 
 dark brown ; she hath eyes that sparkle like 
 
 stars ; and for her physiognomy, she may be 
 
 said to be a mirror of perfection." He hath 
 
 a rich account, in another letter, of Prince 
 
 Charles courting this same Infanta. " There 
 
 are Comedians once a week come to the 
 
 Palace (at Madrid) where, under a great 
 
 canopy, the Queen and the Infanta sit in the 
 
 middle, our prince and Don Carlos on the 
 
 Queen's right hand, the king and the little 
 
 cardinal on the Infanta's left hand, I have 
 
 seen the prince have his eyes immovably 
 
 fixed upon the Infanta half an hour together 
 
 in a thoughtful speculative posture, which sure 
 
 would needs be tedious, unless affection did 
 
 sweeten it." Again, of the Prince's final 
 
 departure from that court. " The king and 
 
 his two brothers accompanied his Highness 
 
 to the Escurial, some twenty miles off, and 
 
 would have brought him to the sea-side, but 
 
 that the Queen is big, and hath not many 
 
 days to go. "When the king and he parted, 
 
 108
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 there past wonderful great endearments and 
 embraces in divers postures between them a 
 long time ; and in that place there is a pillar 
 to be erected as a monument to posterity." 
 This scene of royal congees assuredly gave 
 rise to the popular, or reformed sign (as 
 Ben Jonson calls it), of The Salutation. In 
 the days of Popery, this sign had more solemn 
 import. 
 
 I do not think it is necessary to waste time 
 and ink in demonstrating that the " fine 
 Roman hand " which penned these " Scraps 
 of Criticism " was that of Lamb. If the 
 reader, after perusing them, does not agree 
 with me in my opinion, I can only say that 
 one or other of us must be — well, let me say, 
 wanting in critical insight. 
 
 In the number of the London Magazine for 
 January 1823, the second part of " The 
 Miscellany" appeared. From this I make 
 the following selection of pieces, which are, 
 I think, almost certainly by Lamb : 
 
 THE CHOICE OF A GRAVE. 
 
 In Fontenelle's " Dialogues of the Dead," 
 
 109
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Mary Stuart meets Rizzio, and by way of 
 reconciling him to the violence which he had 
 suffered, says to him : "I have honoured thy 
 memory so far as to place thee in the tombs of 
 the Kings of Scotland." "How," says the 
 musician, " my body entombed among the 
 Scottish Kings?" "Nothing more true," re- 
 plies the Queen. " And I," says Rizzio, " I 
 have been so little sensible of that good fortune 
 that, believe me, this is the first notice I ever 
 had of it." 
 
 I have no sympathy with that feeling, which 
 is nowadays so much in fashion, for picking out 
 snug spots to be buried in. What is the mean- 
 ing of such fancies ? No man thinks or says 
 that it will be agreeable to his dead body to be 
 resolved into dust under a willow, or with 
 flowers above it. No — it is, that while alive he 
 has pleasure in such anticipations for his cox- 
 comical clay. I do not understand it — there is 
 no qtiid pro quo in the business to my appre- 
 hension. It will not do to reason upon, of 
 course ; but I can't feel about it. I am to 
 blame, I dare say, but I can only laugh at such 
 under-ground whims. "A good place" in the 
 churchyard ! — the boxes ! — a front row ! but 
 why ? No, I cannot understand it : I cannot 
 feel particular on such a subject : any part for 
 me, as a plain man says of a partridge. 
 
 110
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 WILKS. 
 
 It is very pleasing to discover redeeming 
 points in characters that have been held up 
 to our detestation. The merest trifles are 
 enough, if they taste but of common humanity. 
 I have never thought very ill of "Wilks since 
 I discovered that he was exceedingly fond 
 of South-Down mutton. But better than 
 this: "My cherries," he says, "are the 
 prey of the blackbirds — and they are most 
 welcome." This is a little trait of character, 
 which, in my mind, covers a multitude of 
 sins. 
 
 OBITUARY. 
 
 Lately died at Strasburgh, in the thirty- 
 first year of his age, the celebrated Italian 
 philosopher Popolino. He had been em- 
 ployed on certain poisonous and other 
 pungent experiments, for the benefit of the 
 red Indians and the civilised inhabitants of 
 Antiqua Scotia. His preparations were 
 generally in the shape of a powder (for the 
 sake of its bearing land-carriage), and on 
 applying some of what he conceived to be 
 No. 37 to his nostrils, he fell down and 
 
 111
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 expired in a moment. The world will long 
 have cause to lament the premature decease 
 of this great philosopher and sage. A few 
 particulars of his early life have escaped ; 
 and as we believe that they are not generally 
 known in England, we shall lay them before 
 our readers. 
 
 Pietro Pinto Popolino was born in the 
 neighbourhood of Peschiera, in the north of 
 Italy, in the midst of the cold weather of 
 1791. His father claimed (and he insisted) 
 on being descended in a right line from the 
 famous Gasco Mendez, formerly one of the 
 self-elected Dukes of Trieste. "When very 
 young, scarcely exceeding the tender age of 
 eleven years, young Popolino, it is said, used 
 to sing the verses of Catullus in an extra- 
 ordinary way, and to accompany them 
 with his violin. It was confidently expected 
 that he would become a shining ornament in 
 the musical circles. One day, however, he 
 became acquainted with two travellers from 
 North Britain, who were regaling themselves 
 with a " haggis," or rather an oUa podrida, 
 (the landlord was a Spaniard,) and some 
 pickled herrings, in the " public " at 
 Peschiera. These gentlemen took great 
 
 112
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 quantities of snuff, which seemed to enable 
 them to argue with infinite vivacity. Young 
 Popolino begged a pinch, and sneezed. He 
 begged another, and sneezed again. This 
 seemed to him very extraordinary. Begging 
 a third pinch, he put it carefully in a small 
 piece of whity-brown paper, and took it 
 home, with a determination to ascertain 
 what its peculiar virtues were. This trifling 
 incident it was which turned this genius into 
 the road of practical philosophy. A few 
 years afterwards he came over to England, 
 and entered himself as a pupil of the cele- 
 brated Fribourg. He became the inventor of 
 " Canaster," of No. 37, of "The Floral Mix- 
 ture," and even made some improvements in 
 " high-dried." He was a great advocate for 
 the system of driving out one disease by 
 another ; and invented a poison (made of 
 the "Lamas" and the "Ticunas" — Indian 
 specifics) which, had it been adopted, 
 would have completely put the measles 
 to flight, and expatriated the hydrophobia. 
 He was the only person acquainted with the 
 virtues of Dr. Solomon's Balm of Gilead, and 
 Dr. Brodum's nervous cordial. He was the 
 inventor of Day and Martin's blacking, and 
 
 113 H
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 the Congreve rockets (he sold the patents to 
 the present proprietors). He was the first 
 man who perceived the connection between 
 the Aurora Borealis and the French Revo- 
 lution, He constructed the automaton chess- 
 player and the invisible girl, and gave the 
 first hint of lighting London with gas. He 
 was an excellent arithmetician, a sound 
 theologian, a good poet and whist-player, a 
 tender father of a family, and a virtuous 
 man. He has left a wife and seventeen 
 small children to lament his death, which 
 will be long felt, not only by them, but by the 
 whole scientific and literary world. He is 
 buried in the Protestant church at Stras- 
 burg, and a tomb, with an elegant inscrip- 
 tion, by Messrs, Mokriffchusky and Price, 
 (proprietors of the Russia oil,) has been 
 erected to his memory. 
 
 Gust, Vostermann, 
 ^*^ By the bye, Gasco Mendez, mentioned 
 in that very clever scene, "The Voyage, a 
 Dramaticle," (in your last number,) may be 
 related perhaps to Popolino's ancestor, 
 
 G,V. 
 
 I do not think there can be any doubt that 
 
 114
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 the first two of these pieces are by Lamb. 
 They are entirely in his manner, and their 
 matter is no less consistent with his peculiar 
 temperament and way of thinking. Let the 
 reader try to think of some other author as 
 having written these pieces, and I believe he 
 will acknowledge that he cannot imagine 
 them to have proceeded from any other pen 
 than Lamb's. "Were it possible to settle 
 by other evidence than that of style the 
 question of the authorship of " The Choice 
 of a Grave," I should !not hesitate to stake 
 my credit as a critic upon Lamb's author- 
 ship of it. 
 
 As regards the paragraph about ^X/"ilkes — 
 whose name Lamb (assuming him to be its 
 author) with customary inaccuracy spells 
 "NJCilks — I think its parentage can hardly be 
 a matter of dispute. As to the " Obituary," 
 I am willing to allow that Lamb's author- 
 ship of it is not so evident as it is in 
 the case of the other " Miscellany " pieces. 
 It is, as it seems to me, a kind of pre- 
 paratory exercise in that kind of burlesque 
 biography of which the most perfect example 
 is the "Biographical Memoir of Mr. Liston." 
 This " Obituary," like the Liston hoax, is 
 
 115
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 admirably calculated to deceive a prosaic or 
 literal-minded reader into supposing it to be 
 a serious memoir. The allusion to Dr. 
 Solomon's Balm of Gilead recalls to mind 
 Lamb's epigram, first published in the 
 Champion: 
 
 On a late Empiric of " Balmy Memory." 
 
 His namesake, bom of Jewish breeder. 
 Knew "from the Hyssop to the Cedar ; " 
 But he, unlike the Jewish leader. 
 Scarce knew the Hyssop from the Cedar, 
 
 I think that the reader, after a little con- 
 sideration, will agree with me that this 
 " Obituary " was probably written by Lamb : 
 and that it ought henceforth to take its place 
 among his writings beside the memoir of 
 Liston, 
 
 In the next number of the magazine I find 
 one other "Miscellany" piece which I 
 venture to attribute to Lamb — though not 
 with so much confidence as in the former 
 cases. It is as follows : 
 
 MILTON. 
 
 Milton takes his rank in English literature, 
 according to the station which has been 
 
 116
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 determined on by the critics. But he is not 
 read like Lord Byron, or Mr. Thomas 
 Moore. He is not popular; nor perhaps will 
 he ever be. He is known as the Author of 
 "Paradise Lost;" but his "Paradise Re- 
 gained," " severe and beautiful," is little 
 known. "Who knows his Arcades? or Sam- 
 son Agonistes? or half his minor poems? 
 We are persuaded that, however they may 
 be spoken of with respect, few persons take 
 the trouble to read them. Even Comus, the 
 child of his youth, his "florid son, young" 
 Comus — is not well known ; and for the 
 little renown he may possess, he is indebted 
 to the stage. The following lines (excepting 
 only the first four) are not printed in the 
 common editions of Milton ; nor are they 
 generally known to belong to that divine 
 'Masque" ; yet they are in the poet's highest 
 style. "We are happy to bring them before 
 such of our readers as are not possessed 
 of Mr. Todd's expensive edition of Milton. 
 
 The Spirit enters. 
 
 Before the starry threshold of Jove's court 
 My mansion is, where those immortal shapes 
 Of bright aerial spirits live insphered 
 In regions mild of calm and serene air, 
 
 117
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Amidst th' Hesperian gardens, on whose banks 
 
 Bedew'd with nectar and celestial songs, 
 
 Eternal roses grow, and hyacinth. 
 
 And fruits of golden rind, on whose fair tree 
 
 The scaly harness'd dragon ever keeps 
 
 His unenchanted eye : around the verge 
 
 And sacred limits of this blissful isle. 
 
 The jealous ocean, that old river, winds 
 
 His far-extended arms, till with steep fall 
 
 Half his waste flood the wild Atlantic fills, 
 
 And half the slow unfathom'd Stygian pool. 
 
 But soft, I was not sent to court your wonder 
 
 With distant worlds, and strange removed climes. 
 
 Yet thence I come, and oft from thence behold, &c. 
 
 Our readers will forgive us for having 
 modernised the spelling. It is the only 
 liberty that vre have taken with our great 
 author's magnificent passage. 
 
 I do not, of course, lay much stress upon 
 this piece, which is not remarkable except 
 as an instance of Lamb's well-known devo- 
 tion to the memory of the great poet — if we 
 conclude, as I think we may, that he was its 
 author. 
 
 "The Miscellany" does not seem to have 
 proved a successful feature of the Magazine. 
 It languished through two more numbers — 
 but in neither of these is there anything 
 
 118
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 remarkable, nor is there anything which can 
 be attributed to Lamb. 
 
 At this point it will be convenient to gather 
 together the chief passages in Lamb's letters 
 which refer to the London Magazine and his 
 connection with it. These will show that as 
 time went on he became less and less satisfied 
 with the manner in which it was conducted, 
 and that he felt keenly the dropping off of 
 the best of his fellow contributors. The 
 earliest mention of the London which I have 
 found occurs in a letter to John Taylor, the 
 publisher, dated July 21, 1821.* In this 
 Lamb says : 
 
 The Lo7idon Magazine is chiefly pleasant to 
 me, because some of my friends write in it, I 
 hope Hazlitt intends to go on with it, we cannot 
 spare Table Talk. For myself I feel almost 
 exhausted, but I will try my hand a little 
 longer, and shall not at all events be written 
 out of it by newspaper paragraphs. . . . This 
 last paper will be a choke-pear to some people, 
 but as you do not object to it, I can be under 
 little apprehension of your exerting your 
 Censorship too rigidly.t 
 
 * See Mr. W. C. Hazlitt's " The Lambs," p. 193 
 fThe "choke-pear" was the essay on "Jews, 
 Quakers, Scotchmen, and other Imperfect Sym- 
 
 119
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Nine days later he writes to the same 
 correspondent to thank him for sending him 
 some beautiful lines signed " Olen " (Sir 
 C, A. Elton,)* He then proceeds to tell the 
 story of his assumption of the name of his 
 fellow-clerk, Elia — but the passage is too 
 familiar to need reproduction here. 
 
 The next reference I have found occurs in 
 a letter to "Wordsworth, dated March 20, 
 1822, Lamb's essay " On some of the Old 
 Actors " had appeared in the February 
 number of the magazine, and Wordsworth 
 had evidently expressed his admiration of it. 
 Lamb says in reply : 
 
 You have gratified me with liking my meeting 
 with Dodd. For the Malvolio story — the thing 
 is become in verity a sad task, and I eke it out 
 with anything. If I could slip out of it I should 
 be happy, but our chief-reputed assistants have 
 forsaken us. The Opium-Eater crossed us 
 once with a dazzling path, and hath as sud- 
 denly left us darkling ; and, in short, I shall go 
 on from dull to worse, because I cannot resist 
 the booksellers' importunity — the old plea you 
 know of authors, but I believe on my part sincere. 
 
 pathies," which appeared in the August number 
 of the London Magazine. 
 
 * See " Epistle to Elia," in a later chapter. 
 
 120
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Nothing could well be more characteristic 
 of Lamb than his fear that this essay, so admir- 
 able for its critical insight, and so vivid in 
 its portraitures, was liable to the charge of 
 dulness. In it he was, I think, consciously 
 measuring himself against Colley Gibber, the 
 best of all stage historians ; and it is sufficient 
 praise for him — as it would be for any one 
 — that he did not fall short of his model. 
 The mention of Thomas de Quincey, is, I 
 believe, the only one that occurs in all Lamb's 
 published letters. Procter, in his Life of 
 Lamb, leads us to think that there was never 
 at any time, much intimacy between him and 
 the Opium-Eater, though the latter in his vari- 
 ous articles on Elia implies that there was. 
 
 The next reference to the London occurs 
 in a letter to Bernard Barton, dated March 5, 
 1823 : 
 
 Your poem, which I consider very affecting, 
 found me engaged about a humorous Paper for 
 the London, which I had called, "A letter to an 
 Old Gentleman whose education had been 
 neglected," — and when it was done Taylor and 
 Hessey would not print it, and it discouraged 
 me from doing anything else ; so I took up 
 Scott, where I had scribbled some petulant 
 
 121
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 remarks, and for a makeshift father'd them on 
 Ritson, It is obvious I could not make your 
 poem a part of them ; and as I did not know 
 whether I should be able to do to my mind 
 what you suggested, I thought it not fair to 
 keep back the verses for the chance. Mr. 
 Mitford's Sonnet I like very well, but as I also 
 have my reasons against interfering with the 
 Editorial arrangements of the London, I trans- 
 mitted it, (not in my own handwriting) to them, 
 who I doubt not will be glad to insert it. 
 What eventual benefit it can be to you (other- 
 wise than that a kind man's wish is a benefit) I 
 cannot conjecture. 
 
 It is not surprising, I think, that the pub- 
 lishers declined to print the " Letter to an 
 Old Gentleman," * for it is certainly one of 
 Lamb's least felicitous efforts. Who would 
 have guessed it to be his if he had not put 
 his name to it ? We value all Lamb's 
 writings in proportion as they are more or 
 less characteristic of their author, and for 
 this reason we could very well spare such 
 failures (or at least comparative failures) as 
 the one I have mentioned, " Reminiscences 
 of Juke Judkins," " The Last Peach," and a 
 
 * It was, however, eventually printed in the London 
 in the number for January 1825. 
 
 122
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 few others. Of some writers we want as 
 little as possible of themselves in their 
 writings — for a man may be a good author 
 and yet an uninteresting person* — of others, 
 as of Montaigne, Burton, and Lamb, we can 
 never have too much. 
 
 The poem of Barton's which is alluded to 
 in the above extract is called " A Poet's 
 Thanks." It was suggested apparently by 
 Mitford's Sonnet which was published in the 
 June number of the magazine. In the latter 
 Mitford condoles with Barton on his mis- 
 fortune in being condemned to gain his 
 livelihood as a banker's clerk, instead of 
 being free to follow his inclinations as a poet. 
 Foolishly enough the sonneteer compares 
 Barton's situation to that of Tasso in his 
 dungeon, the latter being of the two the more 
 favoured ! 
 
 Like Captive, my own Bard, art thou : yet he 
 Had thought, time, feeling, free to count his 
 
 chain, 
 While thine is heavier thraldom, double pain, 
 Prisoner at once and Slave. 
 
 Barton, it would seem, did not see the 
 
 * A good author — yes ! but hardly a great one. 
 
 123
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 absurdity of this comparison. The reader 
 will remember that it was apparently only 
 the earnest protest of Lamb that restrained 
 him from abandoning his clerkship in favour 
 of professional authorship. 
 
 "Writing again to Bernard Barton on May 3, 
 1823, Lamb says : — 
 
 I cannot but think that the London drags 
 heavily, I miss Janus, And oh, how it misses 
 Hazlitt ! Proctor too is affronted. 
 
 On September 2, he writes to the same 
 correspondent : — 
 
 The London, I fear, falls off. I Hnger among 
 its creaking rafters, like the last rat : it will 
 topple down if they don't get some buttresses. 
 They have pulled down three : Hazlitt, Proctor, 
 and their best stay, kind, light-hearted Waine- 
 wright, their Janus. The best is, neither of our 
 fortunes is concerned in it. 
 
 Kind, light-hearted "Wainewright ! One is 
 glad to think that Lamb died before the 
 disclosure of his friend's heartlessness and 
 depravity. Even so late as 1831 Lamb still 
 retained his faith in him, and recommended 
 Moxon to secure him as a contributor to the 
 Englishman s Magazine. It would not have 
 
 124
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 been the least of the many sorrows of Lamb's 
 later life if he had become acquainted with 
 the utter worthlessness of the man with whom 
 he had been so intimate and whom he 
 esteemed so highly. 
 
 In a letter dated January 23, 1824, he 
 apologises to Barton for having written him 
 a dismal epistle while suffering from illness, 
 and adds : 
 
 The fact is, I have been insuperably dull and 
 lethargic for many weeks, and cannot rise to 
 the vigour of a letter, much less an essay. The 
 London must do without me for a time, for 
 I have lost all interest about it ; and whether I 
 shall recover it again I know not. 
 
 On December 1, of the same year, writing 
 to the same correspondent, he says : — 
 
 Taylor and Hessey, finding their magazine 
 goes off very heavily at 2s. dd. are prudently 
 going to raise their price another shilling ; and 
 having already more authors than they want, 
 intend to increase the number of them. If they 
 set up against the Neiio Monthly they must 
 change their present hands. It is not tying the 
 dead carcase of a Review to a half- dead Maga- 
 zine will do their business. 
 
 125
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 In a letter to Leigh Hunt dated by Canon 
 Ainger " End of 1824," but which, I suspect, 
 should rather be dated "Early in 1825," 
 Lamb writes : — 
 
 They keep dragging me on, a poor worn 
 millhorse, in the eternal round of the damned 
 magazine ; but 'tis they are blind, not I. Col- 
 burn (where I recognise with delight the 
 gay W. Honeycomb renovated) hath the 
 ascendency.* 
 
 The "gay W. Honeycomb" allusion re- 
 fers to a series of Papers by Hunt, which 
 bore the general title of " The Family 
 Journal, by Harry Honeycomb." As the 
 series began in the number of the NeivMonthlv 
 Magazine for January 1825, it would seem to 
 fix the date of the letter at some time during 
 that month, or possibly somewhat later. 
 
 The following passages from a letter to 
 Miss Hutchinson, which is dated January 20, 
 
 * In the same letter Lamb asks about a book which 
 he had sent to Hunt, and enquires what has become 
 of it. " Peradventure the Cardinal Gonsalvi took a 
 fancy to it ; his Eminence has done my Nearness an 
 honour." I feel sure that for "Nearness," which is 
 meaningless, so far as I can see, we should read 
 " Meanness." 
 
 126
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 1825, are so well known that I would have 
 omitted them if I could have done so with- 
 out making a serious lacuna in this chapter. 
 I think, however, that few of my readers 
 will be unwilling to read again this very 
 characteristic passage : 
 
 You ask about the editor of the London ; I 
 know of none. This first specimen is flat and 
 pert enough to justify subscribers who grudge 
 t'other shilling. De Quincey's " Parody " was 
 submitted to him before printed, and had his 
 Probatiim. The "Horns" is in a poor taste, 
 resembling the most laboured papers in the 
 Spectator. I had signed it " Jack Homer " ; 
 but Taylor and Hessey said it would be 
 thought an offensive article unless I put my 
 known signature to it, and wrung from me my 
 slow consent. But did you read my " Memoir 
 of Listen?" — and did you guess whose it 
 was ? Of all the lies I ever put off, I value 
 this most. It is from top to toe, every para- 
 graph, Pure Invention, and has passed for 
 gospel ; has been republished in newspapers, 
 and in the penny playbills of the night as an 
 authentic account. I shall certainly go to the 
 naughty man some day for my fibbings. In the 
 next number I figure as a Theologian ! and 
 have attacked my late brethren, the Unitarians, 
 
 127
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 What Jack-Pudding tricks I shall play next, I 
 know not ; I am almost at the end of my 
 tether. 
 
 It is hardly necessary to say that De 
 Quincey's "Parody" refers to Lamb's 
 " Letter to an Old Gentleman whose educa- 
 tion has been neglected" ; or that the 
 "Horns" refers to "A Vision of Horns." 
 
 On February 10, 1825, Lamb writes 
 to Barton concerning the "Vision of 
 Horns " :— 
 
 I am vexed that ugly paper should have 
 offended. I kept it is as clear from objec- 
 tionable phrases as possible, and it was 
 Hessey's fault and my weakness that it did 
 not appear anonymous. No more of it, for 
 God's sake. ... I have caused great specu- 
 lation in the dramatic (not thy) world by a 
 lying " Life of Listen," all pure invention. The 
 town has swallowed it, and it is copied into 
 newspapers, playbills (etc.), as authentic. You 
 do not know the Droll, and possibly missed 
 reading it, (in our first number. New Series). 
 A life more improbable for him to have lived 
 could not be easily invented. But your rebuke, 
 coupled with " Dream on J. Bunyan," checks 
 me. I'd rather do more in my favourite way, 
 
 128
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 but feel dry. I must laugh sometimes, I ami 
 poor Hypocondriacus, and not Liston. The 
 number is all trash. What are T. and H, 
 about ? Why did poor Scott die ? There was 
 comfort in writing with such associates as w^ere 
 his little band of scribblers ; some gone away, 
 some affronted away, and I am left as the 
 solitary widow looking for w^atercresses. The 
 only clever hand they have is Darley, who has 
 written on the Dramatists under the name of 
 John Lacy. But his function seems suspended. 
 
 Writing to the same correspondent on 
 August 19, 1825, Lamb says : — 
 
 Taylor has dropped the London. It was 
 indeed a dead weight. It has got in the 
 Slough of Despond, I shuffle off my part of 
 the pack, and stand like Christian with ligh 
 and merry heart. It had got silly, indecorous, 
 pert, and everything that was bad. 
 
 In a letter to Southey, dated August 19, 
 1825, we have Lamb's last mention (except- 
 ing one or two passing references) of the 
 magazine : 
 
 The London Magazine has shifted its pub- 
 lishers once more, and I shall shift myself out 
 of it. It is fallen. 
 
 129 I
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Lamb's dissatisfaction with the manage- 
 ment and contents of the later volumes of 
 the magazine was certainly not without 
 reason. It cannot be denied that there was 
 a great falling off from the standard of the 
 earlier volumes. It was not possible to 
 supply the places of such contributors as 
 De Quincey, Hazlitt, Allan Cunningham, 
 Talfourd, Reynolds, and Gary with others of 
 equal ability, and consequently the maga- 
 zine steadily declined in character and circu- 
 lation. It did not, however, as Procter and 
 Canon Ainger have stated, come to an end 
 in 1825. The new publishers, of whom 
 Lamb speaks in the last extract I have 
 quoted, were Messrs. Hunt and Clarke, and 
 the new editor is said to have been Mr. 
 Henry Southern, who was also one of the 
 editors of the "Retrospective Review." 
 Hunt and Clarke continued to publish 
 the magazine until the end of 1827, 
 when it again changed hands. Three 
 or four volumes of this Third Series were 
 published ; but the magazine was finally 
 discontinued in 1829. The last series con- 
 tains very little matter of interest ; but it is 
 perhaps worth while to note that many of 
 
 130
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Winthrop Mackworth Praed's best poems 
 were first published in these final volumes. 
 The passage which I have quoted from 
 Lamb's letter to Southey seems to indicate 
 clearly enough that he had determined to 
 close his connection with the London. No 
 one hitherto seems to have thought it worth 
 while to examine the later volumes of the 
 magazine to see whether any more of his 
 work could be discovered in them. Indeed, 
 as I have said, most of Lamb's editors seem 
 to have been under the impression that the 
 London came to an end in 1825. It seemed 
 to me, however, worth while to go through 
 the later volumes of the magazine in search 
 of articles by Lamb, or which might have 
 some relation to him. As a result I have 
 found two pieces, which I do not indeed 
 venture to ascribe to him, but which are so 
 interesting in themselves and in their re- 
 lation to him that they are, in my opinion, 
 well worth reprinting. The first of these is 
 found in the number of the London for 
 January 1826, and is entitled "A Hint for 
 "Whist Players." This is, if nothing else, an 
 interesting sequel to "Mrs. Battle's Opinions 
 on "Whist." It is also, if an imitation, a 
 
 131
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 remarkably good one of Lamb's manner — 
 and, moreover, an imitation of him in his 
 most characteristic vein. I do not hesitate 
 to assert of this and of the next piece which 
 I shall print that they are, together with 
 the essay already referred to ("Death, — 
 Posthumous Memorials — Children"), the 
 best of all imitations of Lamb. They are, 
 in fact, the only successful imitations of 
 Lamb's style with which I am acquainted — 
 for Hood, Procter, and Patmore, whether 
 consciously or unconsciously imitating him, 
 quite failed to catch his spirit or manner, — 
 except perhaps in very brief and inter- 
 mittent passages. 
 
 A HINT TO WHIST PLAYERS. 
 
 "We, — (I and my constant partner, in love 
 and whist) — have had a long run latterly, 
 like the bankers, of ill luck. — Night after 
 night, — for the cards are of as regular 
 occurrence as our Hyson, — we have lost an 
 average half-dozen of rubbers, without the 
 set-off of one single point against the score. 
 
 Probably, it may be hinted here, that we 
 are no adepts, — and it would not become me 
 
 132
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 to speak in contradiction. — I confess will- 
 ingly, on my own behalf, that I am not 
 a Hoyle, — yet, such as we are, jointly, we 
 have overcome players of high repute. Not 
 unto ourselves, but to propitious Fortune we 
 attributed those victories — and now, under 
 our own reverses, we claim to complain, as 
 the "Dabs" did, of a partial dispensation. 
 
 I can put up with an occasional bad card- 
 hand, as Job-like as any one. A sorry, 
 solitary deuce of trumps, noiv and then, does 
 not put me beside my tenour. I can go 
 trumpless even once, twice, or thrice, with- 
 out an imprecation. — I can sort, without 
 pouting, some thirteen rabble-cards, and 
 endure, as heroically as Brightelmstone 
 tradesfolk, a temporary privation of king 
 and court favour. — It would be strange if 
 the losses and crosses I have suffered in 
 human dealings, had not taught me philo- 
 sophy to endure any reasonable proportion 
 of "Whist adversity. If I can reckon up 
 without fretting, the niggardly balances that 
 are made out to me by my bookseller, — I 
 may surely, without chafing, tell over a 
 beggarly account of pips. 
 
 My gentle ally — as her mild, placid 
 
 133
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 countenance might vouch for — exceeds me 
 in resignation. She is the last Whist player 
 in the world to be put out by a fair average 
 of mishaps — but the repeated frowns of 
 fortune — fickle, alas! no more, but against 
 us perversely constant, — have ruffled even 
 my meek partner. The acute mischance 
 may be got over, — but our confirmed ill 
 luck has become chronical. A temporary 
 foul breeze may be worn out patiently, — but 
 a trade wind in one's teeth, what mortal can 
 bear? 
 
 There is nothing mortifying, it may be 
 said, in being outshuffled by a pack of paste- 
 board, — that kings, queens, knaves, — two by 
 honours, or all the honours, fall to our 
 adversaries, — is the inevitable result of 
 position in the cards, — and disparages neither 
 skill nor desert of ours. They were ours, 
 they are theirs, and may be ours again. 
 That indeed is the pleasurable alternation in 
 games of see-saw and of chance. But to 
 rest always on the humble ground without 
 any turn in the air — to be invariably cut by 
 the better trumps — to be shunned by the 
 aces, and never visited by the kings — to be 
 sent to Coventry by all good cards — to thrive 
 
 134
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 never, and, never thriving, to be sneered at, 
 implicitly by the old scandalous adage, — oh, 
 'tis intolerable ! 
 
 "What antique sacrifices, or mysterious 
 ceremonious rites, to the filleted goddess have 
 we omitted ? "Will she never, never again 
 turn for us the tables, — as we have turned 
 often our unwieldy, unlucky chairs ? 
 
 I have not yet spoken of our worst 
 grievance : — there is a sore within a sore. 
 It is the grave, demure, hypocritical visages 
 of our conquerors, when they rise up, it may 
 be, from their tenth victory, — that gall us 
 more than our defeat. "With prim, serious 
 features, more worthy of a Quaker rite than 
 of Whist settlements, — they pick up, (the 
 buckram dowagers !) and pocket the trophy 
 coin. To judge from our faces, — 'tis a drawn 
 game, — a fourfold disappointment — but 
 ^X/'hist, as the world knows, is incapable of 
 such lame and impotent conclusions. " Two," 
 says Mrs. Battle, the eloquent encomiast of 
 "Whist, " two are exalted — two again are 
 mortified " — but it would puzzle a disciple 
 of Lavater to say which was which at the 
 close of our melancholy rubbers. As far as 
 physiognomy goes, the winners protest that 
 
 135
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 they would as lief have forgone the double 
 points, and the money. — They have not 
 achieved success, but had it thrust upon 
 them. — They repent, like Coriolanus, of their 
 conquest. — They begrudge themselves, — or 
 might be supposed to begrudge themselves, 
 their gains, — if it were not a joint object 
 with them to be as successful as sad, — They 
 are loath, — so their formal looks signify, — to 
 put us to the trial of a triumph — or they fear, 
 and half anticipate, the pigeon-like flutter of 
 the whole brood of pasteboard about their 
 wary ears. 
 
 If they mean thus — let them know that we 
 hate their sham insincere moderation — we 
 are offended by their uncourteous mistrust. 
 Do they think, forsooth, that we can afford 
 to lose so many shillings nightly — and of that 
 they never affect a doubt — but that we are 
 too poor in patience to put up with a simple 
 smile ? Is it less an offence to question our 
 good breeding and self-government, than to 
 hint a suspicion of our finances ? Is the 
 suppressed chuckle in their sleeves likely to 
 be less provoking than the fair frank laugh 
 against us ? — Do they flatter themselves, that 
 we perceived not, in the beginning, their ill- 
 
 136
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 concealed gigglings and titterings behind 
 their card-fans, for joy of the lucky distribu- 
 tion? — Did their lurking aces leap out 
 lingeringly, reluctantly, or eagerly upon our 
 untimely queens and kings? — Did they 
 chuckle or sigh, with over-mastering trumps, 
 to cut up the poor remnants of our hopeful 
 suits ? — It would be better if they clapped 
 their hands and crowed over us, — bragging 
 would be preferable to their mock-modesty. 
 "We scorn their untimely gravity — we resent 
 their insolent humility. Do they think we 
 are not competent to carry off ten times 
 their prosperity, or our own losses, with an 
 equal propriety ? — To be sure, say they, the 
 honours fell very much against you, or some 
 such impertinent condolence. Do we or 
 chance need their excuses ? do we writhe or 
 blaspheme under our reflections ? If at such 
 moments I do betray some tokens of impa- 
 tience — utter a few peevish pishes — it is 
 because their triumph of temper has 
 " triumphed over mine." 
 
 Is our skill, so notably inferior, to find 
 another explanation for their manners, that 
 our defeat is a joyless and matter-of-course 
 termination ! Their good fortune, which 
 
 137
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 made another result improbable, forbids 
 such an interpretation. Nevertheless, in 
 some rare instances aforetime, when chance 
 favoured us, they have been pleased to 
 express that no skill could compete with 
 such lucky cards as we held, or some speech 
 as tantamount to the assumption. 
 
 It is still possible, and for their modesty's 
 sake desirable, — that they are of those luke- 
 warm players, the aversion of Mrs, Battle, — 
 the half-and-half gamesters, " who have no 
 objection to take a hand if you want one to 
 make up a rubber ; who affirm that they 
 have no pleasure in winning ; that they like 
 to win one game and to lose another ; that 
 they can wile away an hour very agreeably 
 at a card-table, but are indifferent whether 
 they play or no," 
 
 There is no offence in that case, to any 
 one but themselves in their listless achieve- 
 ments. They only amuse themselves in a 
 melancholy manner, (as Froissart twits us,) 
 according to the custom of their breed. — But 
 I would rather play, (they must pardon me,) 
 against double dummies — or be beaten by 
 two wooden whist-dolls, cousins to the chess- 
 playing automaton. At any rate, since it is 
 
 138
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 all one to their faces and feeling, I would 
 rather that they lost, than wc, the money and 
 the rubbers, 'Tis my pleasant infirmity not 
 to be proof against the excitements and the 
 depressions of the game. A main good stroke 
 of chance or skill makes me chuckle : I love 
 to mutter a half earnest malediction on an 
 untimely ace. The odd trick makes me rub 
 my palms together. I like to win my battle, 
 and then to have an illumination. 
 
 After all, possibly, I have done the dear 
 dowagers an injustice. It is perchance, but 
 some formality-rule of the old buckram-age 
 that compels their features to that demure 
 fashion. The courtly Chesterfield, of sway 
 absolute in their school-time, denounces, I 
 recollect, the vulgarity of audible and hearty 
 laughter ; and at, or after a rubber of whist 
 he may somewhere have forbidden them to 
 smile. 'Tis a maxim, perhaps, in some old 
 Dilworth code of courtesy ; but it is an error 
 in whist-breeding and ought to be expunged. 
 There is a special proverb against it : 
 " Let those laugh that win." 
 
 Thomas Pam. 
 
 Perhaps there is something wanting in 
 
 139
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 this essay — an indefinable something which 
 one feels but can hardly describe — which 
 must prevent us from regarding it as a 
 genuine Elia. This is hardly the case, how- 
 ever, with the next essay which I shall 
 print. As I have said, I do not venture to 
 attribute it to Lamb ; but I own that I 
 should be glad if I could do so. I do not 
 hesitate to say that it is quite worthy of him. 
 It is quite in his best vein of sympathetic 
 tenderness and unstrained pathos. By 
 whomsoever written, it is — at least^ in my 
 opinion — an original and beautiful piece of 
 feeling and fancy. It gives me a great 
 deal of pleasure to rescue it from its 
 obscurity. 
 
 AN APPEAL FROM THE SHADES 
 
 Courteous Stranger, — I have a thing to 
 say ; a wrong to complain of between thy 
 fellows and mine ; but before our thoughts 
 mingle, let me prepare thee for what I am. 
 I have learned not to step too suddenly 
 before the curtain. My nature to human 
 prejudices is somewhat ghastly. By dreary 
 hints and periphrasis, I must lead thee, 
 
 140
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 like the guilty royal John, to my revela- 
 tion : — 
 
 If the midnight bell 
 
 Did with his iron tongue and brazen mouth 
 Sound One unto the drowsy race of night, — 
 If this same were a churchyard where we stand, — 
 
 then might I with less misgiving unfold 
 myself. Shrieks, groans, aguish fears, not 
 more chilling to thy spirit than to mine, are 
 the penalties of a rash disclosure. Hast 
 thou buried thy thoughts ever with the 
 buried, till the chamber seemed thronged 
 with supernatural presences ? Hast thou 
 been in a dream sometimes with those that 
 are gone to " the land of the moles and 
 pismires? " — 
 
 I am one of those. I occupy that mysteri- 
 ous parenthesis between the life past and to 
 come, which in mortal language goes by the 
 name of death. With this warning I may 
 now venture to disclose to thee my spectral 
 shape, blurred as it is by the Lethean fogs. 
 Is my paleness so very terrible, or is there 
 any thing so fearful as piteous in my un- 
 reflecting eyes ? Is there aught to shudder 
 at, beside the coldness in my innocent lean 
 hand ? What have I on my cheek or lips, 
 
 141
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 but the not unlovely languor of death, — an 
 expression akin to the pleasant expression of 
 sleep. I come with no rude foot-fall to 
 startle thee, — but the noiseless pace that 
 belongs to our quiet abodes. My voice is 
 only unearthly for that it hath lost all its 
 fretful notes and passionate harshnesses. 
 My garment is as the lily's. Does this snow- 
 white raiment make my visits, or not, the 
 more angel-like, — or must I be held loath- 
 some for want of a more worldly habiliment, 
 and some refuse clay ? 
 
 Is there any disgustful wormy circumstance 
 about me, — or do I not come purified rather 
 of my mortal slough ? 
 
 I have no gaping unseemly wound to scare 
 thee withal, — no horrible death-pang im- 
 printed on my visage, but with calm Christian 
 feature as I died, have come above only to 
 solace some old worldly hankerings and 
 regrets. The unforgotten earth has spells 
 potent as those of Endor's hag, that some- 
 times pluck us from our graves. The 
 summer's springing flowers, with their stir- 
 ring roots, tug at the buried heart. The 
 merry songs of birds — friendly, family voices 
 — the chime of village bells, and melodious 
 
 142
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 fall of waters, have echoes in the spiritual 
 ear — 
 
 True as the shell 
 
 To the old ocean's melancholy swell. 
 
 The old familiar faces and homely images 
 have their camera in the ghostly organ, 
 and awaken yearnings stronger than the 
 tomb. 
 
 Not often we come earthward in enmity. 
 Revenge and hatred, that domineer in hot 
 bloods, are quieter passions in our torpid 
 pulses. Not of ourselves, but at command 
 of divine justice, we arise from our turfy 
 pillows to dog the heels of the unconfessed 
 murderer ; seldomer still do we forsake our 
 peaceful city, to convey unwelcome omens to 
 the living ; — there are croaking ravens enough 
 for that office — to point out a miserly hoard 
 of gold, we rise never ! More kindly and 
 peaceful (though all the Neroes are amongst 
 us) are our midnight errands. There is no 
 nerve now, in the phantom arm, — for a 
 tyrant to drive a dagger, — or to snatch a 
 sceptre from the weakest hand of flesh. The 
 cruel, the unjust, and the crafty, remain 
 therefore in the sullenest shades below ; but 
 the gentle spirit of love is soothed by haunt- 
 
 143
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 ing the old home and its hearths. These 
 
 after-relishes of life — these holiday furloughs 
 
 the kind Death allows us, — and they serve 
 
 to sweeten some darker passages in our 
 
 coffin-dreams, — 
 
 ^ * ^ * * 
 
 Thou hast ceased to shiver at me, and it 
 eases my soul. There is but one man in the 
 breathing world, that ought to quake at my 
 apparition, for he knows how greedily his 
 damnable dishonest hand filched once out 
 of my needful portion, — and yet even he, by 
 a moment's manhood, need scarcely tremble 
 at my unsubstantial presence. "What avail 
 against his front my shadowy frowns, — nay 
 what availed it, when we met once in the 
 moonlight, that, stung by the proud look of 
 the stately traitor, I sprang up behind him, 
 on his tall white pacing horse, and strove to 
 strangle the triumphing Judas with my 
 ineffectual arms ? The pangs of that fruit- 
 less effort were all mine. My arch-enemy 
 suffered not even an atom's discomposure ; 
 but swept on with the same scornful feature 
 which I wept, or felt as if I wept, not to have 
 even subdued. Alas ! a wreath of thin wood- 
 smoke is a thing stronger than I ! 
 
 144
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 If then in malice or indignation we pale 
 vapourish spirits be thus powerless and 
 unhurtful, why should the unguilty living 
 start from us — the kindly familiars that come 
 to them in all love and gentleness ? It were a 
 grateful charity, methinks, not to startle us — 
 poor dream-bewildered sleepwalkers from 
 the nether world — but with tenderness to lead 
 us back into our churchyard beds. It were 
 a brave stretch of human hospitality to enter- 
 tain not the outcast flesh merely, but the 
 fleshless wanderer, more naked than the 
 naked, — from the Stygian coast forlorn. 
 Shall there be no refuge for the uttermost 
 destitution ? — Can the houseless have a claim 
 above the worldless ? 
 
 And yet, when my boon companions of 
 old times remember me in their cups, and 
 dedicate the solemn draught to my memory, 
 they would start with bristling horror from 
 their seats, to behold me sitting in my accus- 
 tomed chair. 
 
 "Would they not have me sensible of the 
 invocation? — Or is theirs but the cant of 
 sentiment, lavished upon vacancy ? "We have 
 no such cold manners even in our bleak 
 precinct. How would it become the cold 
 
 145 K
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 companionship, if when their angels de- 
 scended amongst us, there were no better 
 cheer for their welcome ? But we have cups 
 (such as we have) set ready for them all. 
 
 Tell them, I pray, there is something hollow 
 in this. In the body or out of the body 
 they must find a chirping welcome for me 
 still. 
 
 Tell them there is some echo of the former 
 mirth, some reflection of the old joys amongst 
 us — though somewhat dimmer, like the sun- 
 beam returned by the ghostlike moon. "We 
 are vital memories. The past and imperfect 
 tenses of life make up the present being of 
 the shades. To have lived once makes us 
 immortal, W^e exist on in dreams — not 
 inaccessible to spiritual pleasures and pains. 
 Alas ! our souls smart at our unnatural 
 repulses upon earth. "Where our hearts 
 were, — we feel dismal achings and throes, at 
 the death of human fellowship. 
 
 Oh my cheerful kindhearted friends, fellow 
 campaigners erst in the merry stirring world, 
 tremble not so wrongfully at a frail ghost's 
 intrusion. Shrink not so abhorringly from 
 his fond hand's impalpable grasp ! 'tis for me 
 to shrink, if shrinking must be, from the gross 
 
 146
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 mundane clay. 'Tis for me to groan, if 
 groaning must be, that I can bestow on you 
 nothing more hearty than my pale kind looks. 
 Fill up one welcome cup to the home-sick 
 exile that stealeth lovingly amongst you. 
 Soothe the naked phantasy a dream- while, 
 with his accustomed place. Let the amicable 
 phantom dally a season with the old images, 
 — and then, with your kind farewells and a 
 sigh and an alas ! commend him to a peace- 
 ful slumber on the Lethean shoie ! — 
 
 Oh my beloved babes ! my Margaret ! 
 wife and children of my love, — shudder no 
 more when my fond doting spirit haunts 
 amongst you ! why call me up so often with 
 sighs and tears, and all the sobbing conjura- 
 tions of grief and love, from the dark abyss. 
 "Why stuff out my vacant garments with my 
 form, and yet tremble at my apparition, but 
 a shade more real ? My soul yearns towards 
 you, — till strong affection tears me from the 
 tomb, but groans, sighs, and speechless 
 ecstacies, — or shrieks more startling to me 
 than cry of chanticleer, are obnoxious to my 
 presence. 'Tis no dream, then, that my 
 
 moans are heard on the wind ! — 
 
 ***** 
 
 147
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Patient stranger, farewell. I have made 
 thee my interpreter, and would thank thee, 
 — but I scent the forbidden morn, I may 
 not linger to see its first, faintest, cheerful 
 streak : 
 
 Fare thee well at once. 
 
 The glow-worm shows the matin to be near 
 And 'gins to pale his ineffectual fire, — 
 Adieu, adieu, adieu ! — remember me. 
 
 How shall we explain the mystery of this 
 essay ? Either it is Lamb's own — in which 
 case we have a second mystery to account 
 for, namely why he never claimed so fine 
 and characteristic a piece of work — or it was 
 written by one who had so steeped himself 
 in Lamb's ways of thought and expression 
 that it had become easier to him to express 
 himself in Elia's style than in his own. Is it 
 necessary for me to point out the many 
 passages in this " Appeal " which recall the 
 manner and even the words of Lamb to the 
 reader ? I think not — for if I began to do 
 so I should end by quoting nearly the whole 
 essay. I will refer the reader only to the 
 fourth paragraph, beginning " I have no 
 
 148
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 gaping unseemly wound " and ending "yearn- 
 ings stronger than the tomb." I do not think 
 that any one to whom Lamb's writings are 
 familiar can fail to recognise in this passage 
 at least a wonderful echo of the voice of 
 Elia. 
 
 Having decided — as I think we must — that 
 "An Appeal from the Shades" is the work 
 of an imitator, we must needs speculate as 
 to who could imitate so successfully so 
 difficult a model. The first name that 
 suggests itself is that of Horace Smith, since 
 he had already (as we have seen) imitated 
 Lamb with a considerable measure of success. 
 I should indeed rather confidently ascribe 
 it to him, were there not a difficulty in the 
 way. Smith, who had been a very frequent 
 contributor to the early volumes of the 
 London, appears, like so many others of the 
 original writers in it, to have ceased to con- 
 tribute to it some time before 1825, He had 
 become instead a contributor to the rival 
 New Monthly Magazine. In the number of 
 the London for May 1825, Smith's " Gaieties 
 and Gravities " was noticed in so contemp- 
 tuous a style that it can hardly be supposed 
 that he would again contribute to a magazine 
 
 149
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 which had reviewed him so mercilessly.* 
 For this reason it would seem very unlikely 
 that he could have been the author of the 
 " Appeal." It is much more unlikely, 
 judging from his feeble attempt to imitate 
 Lamb in his " Rejected Articles," that 
 Patmore could have been its author. Neither 
 could Procter, who had long ceased to 
 contribute to the London. There remains 
 Thomas Hood, who might conceivably have 
 written it — though I do not think that he did 
 write it. It is certainly not an essay that 
 Hood would have cared to lose the credit of, 
 had he been its author. In default, therefore, 
 of further evidence, I fear that the author- 
 ship of the "Appeal," and of "A Hint to 
 "Whist Players " — both of which, I feel toler- 
 ably certain, were from the same pen — must 
 remain unknown. 
 
 The foregoing remarks, the reader will 
 observe, were written while I had no idea 
 that there was any evidence, beyond that of 
 style and sentiment, for attributing the 
 "Appeal" to Lamb. It was, therefore, with 
 
 * The writer of the review, oddly enough, selected 
 for special censure some of the articles in the book 
 which had originally appeared in the London Magazine. 
 
 150
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 no small degree of pleasure that I became 
 acquainted with the fact that there is evi- 
 dence in existence which goes far towards 
 proving that the "Appeal" was really written 
 by Lamb.* 
 
 In a letter dated July 16, 1803, which will 
 be found on p. 206, Vol. I., of Canon Ainger's 
 edition of the "Letters," Lamb says : 
 
 Dear Rickman, — I enclose you a wonder, a 
 letter from the shades. A dead body wants to 
 return, and be inroUed infer vivos. 'Tis a gentle 
 ghost, and in this galvanic age it may have 
 a chance. 
 
 I suppose it is needless for me to urge that 
 we have in this passage a sufficiently exact 
 account of "An Appeal from the Shades." 
 I do not see how a more accurate descrip- 
 tion of it could be comprised within the 
 same number of words. That being so, the 
 evidence of Lamb's authorship becomes 
 almost— I will not say quite — conclusive. 
 There is, it is true, the difficulty that the 
 letter was written in 1803, whereas the 
 
 * I must not omit to say that the discovery of this 
 evidence was made by my friend, Mr. Thorn Drury, 
 who kindly communicated it to me. 
 
 151
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 "Appeal" was published twenty-three years 
 afterwards. It may be urged that it is un- 
 likely Lamb would have kept it by him 
 unpublished for so long a period. But we 
 need not even suppose this. Very possibly 
 it may have been published soon after it was 
 written, in some newspaper or magazine of 
 the time. There is nothing to hinder us 
 from supposing that it was one of those 
 lucubrations, "scattered about in obscure 
 periodicals and forgotten miscellanies," 
 which he declared it to be his intention to 
 resuscitate in the pages of the London 
 Magazine. It is possible that with me the 
 wish is father to the thought, for I own that 
 I do wish to think that "An Appeal from 
 the Shades" is Lamb's — but I hope that the 
 reader will agree with me that it has at 
 least as much right to be included hence- 
 forth among the works of Lamb as "Pericles " 
 and the other doubtful plays have to be 
 included among the works of Shakespeare. 
 
 If we conclude that the "Appeal" is 
 Lamb's, it follows that we are at liberty 
 to suppose that he may have contributed 
 other essays to the Loudon after August 
 1825, when it has hitherto been supposed 
 
 152
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 that his connection with the magazine came 
 to an end. It becomes, for one thing, more 
 likely than I have represented it to be that 
 he was really the author of "A Hint to 
 "Whist Players." And there is yet one other 
 article which may be Lamb's, although I 
 did not at first intend to refer to it. This 
 paper, which appeared in the number for 
 September 1825, is entitled, " The Sorrows 
 of ** ***" [An Ass]. The subject was a 
 favourite one with Lamb. The reader will 
 remember the essay on "The Ass" which 
 was first published in Hone's "Every Day 
 Book." As to the essay which follows I will 
 not go beyond the suggestion that it is 
 possibly Lamb's, though I should put the 
 case rather more strongly were I not anxious 
 to avoid the charge of an uncritical readiness 
 to accept as his work anything which bears 
 a merely superficial resemblance to his style. 
 I do not think any one will deny that the 
 style of "The Sorrows of ** *** " bears some 
 resemblance to Lamb's, while the sentiments 
 are undoubtedly such as he entertained on 
 the subject. There are, indeed, two or three 
 passages in the essay which might lead us to 
 believe that it is Hood's — as, for instance, the 
 
 153
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 allusion to the Scotch asses that "lived on a 
 brae" — but I scarcely think it can be his, 
 though I shall not quarrel with any one who 
 chooses to think that Hood was the writer, 
 and that he was here, as in other cases, 
 imitating as closely as he could the style of 
 his friend. W^ith these remarks I will now 
 leave the reader to judge for himself, only 
 begging him, in case he thinks the paper is 
 unworthy of either of the writers whom I 
 have mentioned in connection with it, to 
 consider that its inclusion is at worst an 
 error of excess, and more pardonable, there- 
 fore, than an error of omission. 
 
 THE SORRO^JO^S OF ** ***. 
 
 I am the most unfortunate of an unfortu- 
 nate race. The most wretched of the 
 wretched, who have no rest for the soles 
 of their feet. — Mistake me not — I am no Jew, 
 — would I were but the meanest amongst 
 the Hebrews ! — but my unhappy despised 
 generation labours under a sterner, though 
 a similar, curse. We are a proverb and 
 a by-word — a mark for derision and scorn, 
 even to the vilest of those scattered Israelites. 
 
 154
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 We are sold into tenfold bondage and perse- 
 cution. "We are delivered over to slavery 
 and to poverty — we are visited with number- 
 less stripes. No, tender-hearted Man of 
 
 Bramber!* we are not what thy sparkling 
 eyes would seem to anticipate, — we are, 
 alas ! no negroes, — it were a merciful fate 
 to us to be but Blackamoors, They have 
 their snatches of rest and of joy even — their 
 tabors, and pipes, and cymbals — we have 
 neither song nor dance — misery alone is our 
 portion — pain is in all our joints — and on 
 our bosoms, and all about us, sits everlasting 
 shagreen. — Dost thou not, by this time, guess 
 at my tribe — 
 
 Dost thou not suspect my ears? 
 
 I am indeed, as thou discernest, an inferior 
 horse — a Jerusalem colt ; but why should I 
 blush to " write myself down an ass? " My 
 ancestors at least were free, and inhabited 
 the desert ! — My forefathers were noble, — 
 though it must rob our patriarchs of some of 
 their immortal bliss, if they can look down 
 
 * This is a reference to William Wilberforce, who 
 was M.P. for Bramber. — Ed. 
 
 155
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 from their lower Indian heaven on their 
 
 abject posterity ! 
 
 ***** 
 
 Fate, — I know not whether kindly or un- 
 kindly, — has cast my lot upon the coast. I 
 have heard there are some of my race who 
 draw in sand-carts, or carry panniers, and 
 are oppressed by those Coptic vagabonds, 
 the Gypsies, — but I can conceive no oppres- 
 sions greater than mine. — I can dream of no 
 fardels more intolerable than those I bear ; 
 but think, rather with envy, of the passive- 
 ness of a pair of panniers, compared to the 
 living burdens which gall and fret me by 
 their continual efforts. A sand-bag might 
 be afflictive, from its weight — but it could 
 not kick with it, like a young lady. I should 
 fear no stripes — from a basket of apples, — A 
 load of green peas could not tear my tongue 
 by tugging at my eternal bridle. All these 
 are circumstances of my hourly afflictions, — 
 when I am toiling along the beach — the most 
 abject, and starved, and wretched of our 
 sea-roamers — with one, or perhaps three, of 
 my master's cruel customers, sitting upon 
 my painful back. It may chance, for this 
 ride, that I have been ravished from a hasty 
 
 156
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 breakfast — full of hunger and wind — having 
 at six o'clock suckled a pair of young ladies, 
 in declines, — my own unweaned shaggy foal 
 remaining all the time unnourished (think of 
 that, mothers !) in his sorry stable. It is 
 generally for some child or children that I 
 am saddled thus early — for urchins fresh 
 from the brine, full of spirits and mischief, 
 — would to Providence it might please 
 
 Mrs. D , the Dipper, to suffocate the 
 
 shrieking imps in their noisy immersion ! 
 The sands are allowed to be excellent for a 
 gallop — but for the sake of the clatter, these 
 infant demons prefer the shingles— and on 
 this horrible footing I am raced up and 
 down, till I can barely lift a leg. A brawny 
 Scotch nursery wench, therefore, with sinews 
 made all the more vigorous by the shrewd 
 bracing sea air, lays lustily on my haunches 
 with a toy whip — no toy, however, in her 
 pitiless "red right hand:" and when she is 
 tired of the exercise, I am made over to the 
 next comer. This is probably the Master 
 Buckle — and what hath my young cock, but 
 a pair of artificial spurs — or huge corking- 
 pins stuck at his abominable heels. — No 
 
 —gentle knight comes pricking o'er the plain. — 
 
 157
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 I am now treated, of course, like a cock- 
 chafer — and endeavour to rid myself of my 
 tormentor ; but the bruteling, to his infernal 
 praise, is an excellent rider. At last the 
 contrivance is espied, and my jockey drawn 
 off by his considerate parent — not as the 
 excellent Mr. Thomas Day would advise, 
 with a Christian lecture on his cruelty — but 
 with an admonition on the danger to his 
 neck. His mother, too, kisses him in a 
 frenzy of tenderness at his escape — and I am 
 discharged with a character of spitefulness, 
 and obstinacy, and all that is brutal in 
 nature. 
 
 A young literary lady — blinded with tears, 
 that made her stumble over the shingles — 
 here approaches, book in hand, and mounts 
 me, — with the charitable design, as I hope, 
 of preserving me from a more unkindly 
 rider. And, indeed, when I halt from 
 fatigue, she only strikes me over the 
 crupper, with a volume of Duke Christian 
 of Lunenburg — (a Christian tale to be used 
 so !) — till her concern for the binding of the 
 novel compels her to desist, I am then 
 parted with as incorrigibly lazy, and am 
 mounted in turn by all the stoutest women 
 
 158
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 in Margate, it being their fancy, as they 
 declare, to ride leisurely. 
 
 Are these things to be borne ? 
 
 Conceive me, simply tottering under the 
 bulk of Miss Wiggins, (who some aver is 
 "all soul," but to me she is all body,) or Miss 
 Huggins — the Prize Giantesses of England ; 
 either of them sitting like a personified 
 lumbago on my loins ! — Am I a Hindoo 
 tortoise — an Atlas ? Sometimes, Heaven 
 forgive me, I think I aiii an ass to put up 
 with such miseries — dreaming under the 
 impossibility of throwing off my fardels — of 
 ridding myself of myself — or in moments of 
 less impatience, wishing myself to have been 
 created at least an elephant, to bear these 
 young women in their " towers," as they call 
 them, about the coast. 
 
 Did they never read the fable of " Ass's 
 Skin," under which covering a princess was 
 once hidden by the malice of fairy Fate? 
 If they have, it might inspire them with a 
 tender shrinking and misgiving, lest, under 
 our hapless shape, they should peradventure 
 be oppressing and crushing some once dear 
 relative or bosom-friend, some youthful 
 
 159
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 intimate or schoolfellow, bound to them, 
 perhaps, by a mutual vow of eternal affec- 
 tion. Some of us, moreover, have titles 
 which might deter a modest mind from 
 degrading us. Who would think of riding, 
 much less of flagellating the beautiful 
 Duchess — or only a namesake of the beauti- 
 ful Duchess of Devonshire ? "Who would 
 think of wounding through our sides, the 
 tender nature of the Lady Jane Grey ? "Who 
 would care to goad Lord "Wellington, or 
 Nelson, or Duncan? — and yet these illus- 
 trious titles are all worn, — by my melancholy 
 brethren. There is scarcely a distinguished 
 family in the peerage — but hath an ass of 
 their name. 
 
 Let my oppressors think of this and mount 
 modestly, and let them use me — a female — 
 tenderly, for the credit of their own feminine 
 nature. Am I not capable, like them, of 
 pain and fatigue — of hunger and thirst? 
 Have I, forsooth, no rheumatic aches — no 
 cholics and windy spasms, or stitches in the 
 side — no vertigoes — no asthma — no feeble- 
 ness or hystericks — no colds on the lungs ? 
 It would be but reasonable to presume I had 
 all these, for my stable is bleak and damp — 
 
 160
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 my water brackish and my food scanty — for 
 my master is a Caledonian, and starves me, 
 — I am almost one of those Scotch asses that 
 
 " live upon a brae ! " 
 
 ***** 
 
 Will you mention these things, honourable 
 and humane Sir,* in your place in Parlia- 
 ment? 
 
 Friends of humanity ! — Eschewers of "W^est 
 Indian sugar ! — Patrons of black drudges, — 
 pity also the brown and grizzle-grey ! Suffer 
 no sand — that hath been dragged by the 
 afflicted donkey. Consume not the pannier- 
 potatoe — that hath helped to overburthen 
 the miserable ass ! Do not ride on us, or 
 drive us — or mingle with those who do. 
 Die conscientiously of declines — and spare 
 the consumption of our family milk. Think 
 of our babes, and of our backs. Remember 
 our manifold sufferings, and our meek 
 resignation — our life-long martyrdom, and 
 our mild martyr-like endurance. Think 
 of the "languid patience" in our physi- 
 ognomy ! 
 
 I have heard of a certain French Metro- 
 
 * Mr. Martin is the gentleman addressed, we pre- 
 sume. 
 
 161 L
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 politan, who declared that the most afflicted 
 and patient of animals was " de Job-horse :" 
 — but surely he ought to have applied to 
 our race the attributes and the name of the 
 man of Uz ! 
 
 In the sixth volume of the London there 
 is, on p. 278, a sonnet entitled " The Ass." 
 This is unsigned, and there is therefore no 
 clue to its authorship beyond internal evi- 
 dence, I feel pretty sure, however, that the 
 author of " The Sorrows of ** *** " was also 
 the author of the sonnet. The reader will 
 notice the resemblance between the last four 
 lines of the sonnet, and the passage in " The 
 Sorrows " beginning " My ancestors at least 
 were free, and inhabited the desert." 
 
 THE ASS. 
 
 Poor patient creature, how I grieve to see 
 Thy wants so ill supplied,— to see thee strain. 
 And stretch thy tether for the grass, in vain. 
 Which heaven's rain waters for all else but thee, 
 "The fair green field, the fulness of the plain, 
 Add to thy hunger ; — colt and heifer pass. 
 And roll, as though they mock'd thee, on the 
 grass 
 
 162
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Which would be luxury to the bare brovm lane 
 Where thou'rt imprison'd, humble patient ass, 
 
 Cropping foul weeds, and scorning to complain. 
 
 Mercy at first " sent out the wild ass free," 
 A ranger " of the mountains" ; and what crimes 
 
 Did thy progenitors, that thou shouldst be 
 The slave and mockery of latter times ? 
 
 I need hardly point out that the ideas and 
 sentiments of this sonnet, and (to some extent) 
 those of " The Sorrows " are, if not derived 
 from, at least similar to those in that early 
 poem of Coleridge's, addressed " To a young 
 Ass," which brought so much ridicule upon 
 him, though the spirit of humanity which 
 informs it should have won pardon for its 
 literary deficiencies. That poem, we may 
 reasonably believe, made a deep impression 
 upon the mind of Lamb when it was most 
 impressionable. Of course this does not 
 prove that he was the author of the two 
 pieces which are printed above ; but it does, 
 I think, somewhat increase the likelihood 
 that he may have been their author. 
 
 I have now arrived at the end of the pieces 
 in the London Magazine which I have ven- 
 tured — whether on sufficient or insufficient 
 grounds — to ascribe to the pen of Charles 
 
 163
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Lamb, I think I have established the claims 
 of most of them to be included henceforth in 
 any complete edition of the works of Charles 
 Lamb, even though they may be relegated to 
 an appendix of doubtful pieces. If it be 
 thought that some of them have but slender 
 claims to the honour I have bestowed upon 
 them, I answer that I was willing to take the 
 risk of including too much rather than too 
 little. After all, I am, like Clive, rather 
 astonished at my own moderation than dis- 
 posed to think that I have grasped at too 
 much. The articles which I at first marked 
 as being possibly Lamb's, but afterwards 
 rejected, were far more numerous than those 
 which I finally ascribed to him, I have 
 been anxious all along not to spoil a good 
 case by attempting to prove too much. 
 Whatever may be the verdict upon my work 
 I shall always reflect upon it with gratifica- 
 tion, since it has given me many hours and 
 days of pleasant occupation, during which I 
 have become acquainted, far more intimately 
 than would otherwise have been the case, 
 with one of the finest-spirited, sweetest- 
 natured, and most lovable of the sons of 
 
 men. 
 
 164
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 IV 
 
 SOME POETICAL TRIBUTES TO LAMB 
 , FROM THE "LONDON MAGAZINE" 
 
 I do not think that any apology is needed for 
 the reproduction of the following poems 
 from the pages of the London Magazine. 
 None of them are without merit, and two of 
 them, at least, would deserve to be remem- 
 bered independently of their subject. In 
 most of them the writers seem to have been 
 inspired to a height beyond their usual level 
 by their friendly enthusiasm for their subject. 
 The first of them, the "Epistle to Elia," 
 which is signed " Olen " was written by Sir 
 Charles Abraham Elton, who contributed 
 many -original poems, and many articles on, 
 and translations from, the Greek and Latin 
 poets to the pages of the London Magazine. 
 It appears that Taylor, the publisher, sent 
 the poem to Lamb before publication. Lamb, 
 in acknowledging its receipt, wrote thus to 
 Taylor : 
 
 165
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 You will do me injustice if you do not convey- 
 to the writer of the beautiful lines, which I now 
 return you, my sense of the extreme kindness 
 which dictated them. Poor Elia (call him 
 Ellta) does not pretend to so very clear revela- 
 tions of a future state of being as Olen seems 
 gifted with. He stumbles about dark moun- 
 tains at best ; but he knows at least how to be 
 thankful for this life, and is too thankful indeed 
 for certain relationships lent him here, not to 
 tremble for a possible resumption of the gift. 
 He is too apt to express himself lightly, and 
 cannot be sorry for the present occasion, as it 
 has called forth a reproof so Christian-like. 
 His aninnis at least (whatever becomes of it in 
 the female termination) hath always been cum 
 Christianis. 
 
 Pray make my gratefullest respects \.o the 
 Poet (do I flatter myself when I hope it may be 
 
 M y* ?) and say how happy I should feel 
 
 myself in an acquaintance with him. I will 
 just mention that in the middle of the second 
 column, where I have affixed a cross, the line 
 
 " One in a skeleton's ribb'd hollow coop'd," 
 is undoubtedly wrong. Should it not be 
 " A skeleton's rib or ribs ? " 
 
 or 
 
 " In a skeleton ribb'd, hollow-cooped ?" 
 * James Montgomery. 
 166
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 I perfectly remember the plate in Quarles. In 
 the first page esoteric is pronounced esoteric. 
 It should be (if that is the word) esoteric. The 
 false accent may be corrected by omitting the 
 word old. 
 
 "The Idler's Epistle to John Clare" is 
 also by Elton. Perhaps this poem has 
 scarcely so good a claim as the others to 
 appear in this volume, since it only alludes 
 incidentally to Lamb ; but it is so interesting 
 in itself, and from its being addressed to one 
 of the most unfortunate of poets, that I have 
 chosen to lay myself open to the charge of 
 redundancy rather than omit it. Some few 
 allusions in the poem perhaps require a 
 note. "Agnus" of course is Lamb; 
 " Lepus" is Julius Charles Hare ; " Herbert" 
 is J. H. Reynolds; and " Nalla " Allan 
 Cunningham. I am not certain as to who 
 are intended by " Our Cambridge Wit " and 
 " Our English Petrarch." 
 
 The " Address to Charles Lamb " on his 
 release from the drudgery of the India Office, 
 is by B. W. Procter. It was reprinted in 
 his "English Songs." 
 
 No comment is required upon the two 
 
 167
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 sonnets, though one would like to know 
 by whom the second was written. 
 
 Perhaps it should be added that the 
 "Epistle to Elia " appeared in the number 
 of the London Magazine for August 1821 ; 
 " The Idler's Epistle " in August 1824 ;" To 
 Charles Lamb " in July 1825 ; Barton's 
 *' Sonnet " in February 1823 ; and the other 
 " Sonnet " in August 1822. 
 
 EPISTLE TO ELIA 
 
 Suggested by his Essay, '•'■molle atqtce facetum,' 
 on New Year's Eve 
 
 I would, that eye to eye it were my lot 
 To sit with thee, the chafing world forgot ; 
 While the "grape's uncheck'd virtue"* in the 
 
 cup 
 "Moved itself right," and as the hearth blazed 
 
 up, 
 Ruddying our cheeks, thy witty eloquence 
 Threw brighter sparkles forth than sparkled 
 
 thence. 
 Such midnights in our beings are inwrought ; 
 Less meant for present bliss than after- thought. 
 True, they are past — while we laugh on, they fly: 
 The morning moon has faded from the sky, 
 * John Woodvil, a tragedy: Act III. 
 168
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 While at our supper-board, (no Circe's sty, 
 
 But where old Horace might have sate and told 
 
 His panic at Philippi,) we unfold 
 
 The heart's recesses : to our pillows then. 
 
 And the sun finds us mix'd with common men. 
 
 But this brief night remains ; a thing to tell 
 
 And re-enjoy; a mirth-provoking spell 
 
 To call up sympathies in other hours, 
 
 And waken joyous laughs in distant bowers, 
 
 " But then the grave/ — the green lanes, quiet 
 streets, 
 Grape-juice, the savour of delicious meats. 
 The eye-beam's gladdening interchange, the 
 
 smile, 
 Books, folios yet uncut (alas, the while !) 
 There is an end of these — of these and all : 
 The man survives not his own funeral ; 
 But a strange phoenix, nay, a goblin-self 
 Peeps from the shell ; a hollow- whistling elf, 
 Cold as a moon-beam ; sittting on a cloud, 
 Of which it seems a part ; a ghost ; a shroud ; 
 Raw thought ; mind nakedly intuitive : 
 Is this to be ? — to be a man ? — to live? " — 
 
 No — but we like not this same Cyprus stole 
 Wherewith thou dizenest out the future soul : 
 That soul is human — Elia, nor disjoin'd 
 From an organic mould : not formless mind, 
 But spiritual form : 'tis not our thought, 
 
 169
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 But our whole self in finer substance wrought : 
 
 Not a mere shadow ; a poor conscious name ; 
 
 But the identical and feeling same. 
 
 As well remain a clay-commingling clod, 
 
 As mix with ^Egypt's old esoteric god, 
 
 Soul of the universe, and fleeting wide 
 
 Be all divine, yet unidentified ; 
 
 Or, like the spectral lemures of Rome, 
 
 Err from the confines of our loathed home. 
 
 "Was it for this the Man of Calvary stood, 
 
 Touch'd, handled, seen again by flesh and 
 blood ? 
 
 Or that the grave shall heave, the marble 
 rive, 
 
 The dry bones shake, the dead stand forth 
 alive ? — 
 
 The change tliat takes them shall but re- 
 create. 
 
 Shall superadd, but not annihilate ; 
 
 Raise us to height above this mortal span. 
 
 The perfect stature of a heavenly man. 
 
 The hand that made us, — has it lost its skill ? 
 
 The Power that bless'd us, — has he lost the 
 will? 
 
 The same that call'd the Patriarch to his feast 
 
 Of air, sea, earth, — his bounty hath not ceas'd 
 
 "With this breath's gasp : — the friends that 
 call'd us dear 
 
 Have join'd in fresh carousals ; dried the tear 
 
 170
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Superfluous, or impertinent : — Forgot 
 
 We moulder ; tomb-stoned, and remember'd 
 
 not : 
 Yet is there One to whom we are not lost — 
 Though in flames wasted, or by billows tost ; 
 Who spreads the* mausoleum of his sky 
 O'er those — to whom their kind a tomb deny ; 
 Holds them more precious than his brightest 
 
 star, 
 Marks their strown dust, and gathers it from 
 
 far. 
 Yea, there is One, whose never-sleeping eye 
 Pierces the swathing-clay wherein we He, 
 The chrysalis of man : and forth we spring. 
 On no ethereal metaphysic wing ; 
 A body glorified, but not disguised ; 
 Angelical, but not unhumanised. 
 The creature, that had the Creator's seal 
 Imprest upon him ; that with plastic zeal 
 Soften'd the marble into flesh ; could give 
 To canvas tinted glory, and bid live 
 The faces of the dead ; or skilfully 
 In dwellings match the geometric bee, 
 And beautify the space of earth with piles 
 Cloud-piercing, and eternal as the isles ; 
 Is such a creature goblin- changed ? a sprite 
 Like th' antick ghostly crew, that cross' d the 
 
 sight 
 
 * Cselo tegitur, qui non habet urnam. — Lucan. 
 Phars. 7. 819. 
 
 171
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Of Rip van Winkel * in the mountain glen, 
 Playing at thundering bowls in guise of men, 
 Close jerkin and protuberant hose, "with mirth 
 Starch'd, dumpish, queer, that smack'd not of 
 
 this earth ; 
 Staring and speechless, with lack-lustre eye. 
 An uncouth pageant of dull gramarye ? 
 Or prim as key-stone angels, perch'd aloof. 
 With Atlas palms up-propping th' old church- 
 roof. 
 Rouged, hatted, peruqued, sleeved, with cravat 
 
 laced, 
 Girt nathless with a pair of wings, (such taste 
 And orthodoxy th' elder carvers graced,) 
 Each smirking at his like ? No, never dream it : 
 If thou but think this error, O redeem it. 
 The same, that shadow'd the green leafy dells, 
 And gave them music sweeter than thy bells, 
 Has fumish'd out thy heaven, by the sweet 
 
 name 
 Of Paradise. And thou, too, art the same : 
 The soul that revell'd in thy B^irton's page 
 Shall be alive with thee ; the bard and sage 
 Thou lovedst here, they wait but thy arrival ; 
 Thy death shall be a sleep, a self-survival. 
 Yea — thou shalt stand in pause, when thou 
 
 hast set 
 Thy foot upon heaven's threshold, and beget 
 
 * See " a posthumous writing" of Knickerbocker, in 
 the "Sketch-book." 
 
 172
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Effaced remembrances of forms and times, 
 Greetings and partings, in these earthly climes: 
 And there shall come a rush upon thy brain 
 Of recollected voices, a sweet pain 
 Of sudden recognition ; gentle stealings 
 Of waken' d memory — deep, voluptuous feel- 
 ings, 
 Pressiires, and kisses, that shall make thee 
 
 start 
 At thy own consciousness, and own, thou 
 art! — 
 
 Shalt thou, ingenuous Elia ! do this wrong 
 To one who merits frankincense and song ? 
 Art thou of those whom the quaint bard, yet 
 
 sage. 
 Much slander'd Qiiarles, pourtrays in mystic 
 
 page, 
 Batavian souls, wing'd infant /rowj, well hoop'd. 
 With frill'd skull-cap, well boddiced, and well 
 
 loop'd ; 
 One in a skeleton's ribb'd hollow coop'd ; 
 One to the low earth leg-lock'd, fain to fly 
 One striking at its void rotundity 
 "With bended finger, and astonied Hstening 
 The tinkhng echo, with eyes vacant-ghstening ? 
 Thou art not of them— I forgiveness crave ; 
 For him, the friendly Angel of the Grave, 
 His robe is white as fleeces of the flocks ; 
 The evergreen entwines his raven locks : 
 
 173
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 There is a quiet in that brow serene 
 
 That mocks the sleeping infant's calmest mien ; 
 
 The mystery of stillness ! — all is there 
 
 Soft, pure, seraphic, tender, touching, fair, 
 
 A crystal light melts from his fringed eyes 
 
 Like gleams, o'er mountain tops, of morning 
 
 skies : 
 He hath a voice that makes the hearer mute, 
 Low, liquid, lulling, like a midnight flute : 
 The phial in his hand is not of wrath, 
 But dropping balm'd elixirs in thy path : 
 The tears he draws are medicinal tears, 
 That from the pillow steal remorseful fears ; 
 That wash the stains of custom and foul sin 
 Away. Through chinks of thought light enters 
 
 in, 
 Light from the east ; and we look up, and earth 
 Shows like a den : we strive for second birth, 
 And fain would spring to those that died before ; 
 \X/'ading, with Christian, the deep river o'er. 
 That seems to deepen, to the enlarging shore, 
 Where stand two shining ones : while troops of 
 
 light, 
 As arm-link' d friends, are seen on Zion's height. 
 Threading the pearly gates and streets of 
 
 chrysolite. 
 The viper, which thou fanciest, is the bold 
 And beauteous serpent, streak'd with emerald, 
 
 jet, and gold ; 
 His slough is in the brake, his colours in the sun : 
 
 174
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Nay — these are diamond sands that in thy hour- 
 glass run ; 
 They glisten with the jewel's lasting dew ; 
 Joys lent to time, not lost ; and others new, 
 That, like that serpent orb'd, shall still them- 
 selves pursue. 
 The feasts, at which thou sitt'st, shall still be 
 
 shared 
 By such as thou dost value ; and unscared 
 By hooded griefs, that " push us from our 
 
 stools," 
 Unsoured by knaves and unprofaned by fools. 
 Thou shalt be human still ; and thou shalt be 
 (Thine eyes then clear'd with Eden's euphrasy) 
 Within the sight and touch of him who told 
 The tale our babes now read ; Ulysses old 
 Ploughing with homeward keel romantic seas ; 
 Whether, indeed, blind Melesigenes 
 Greet thee, or bards to whom alike belongs 
 That hoar abstraction of Troy's scatter' d 
 
 songs : 
 And thou shalt hail that prophet of his kind, 
 Shakspeare, the man of multitudinous mind : 
 And she, to thee first lovely and first fair, 
 Thy Alice — she, thy Alice, shall be there ; 
 A woman still, though pure from mortal 
 
 leaven, 
 And warm as love, though blushing all of 
 heaven. 
 
 Olen, 
 175
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 THE IDLER'S EPISTLE TO JOHN 
 CLARE 
 
 So loth, friend John, to quit the town ? 
 Twas in the dales thou won'st renown : 
 I would not John ! for half-a-crown 
 
 Have left thee there ; 
 Taking my lonely journey down 
 
 To rural air. 
 
 The paven flat of endless street 
 Is all unsuited to thy feet ; 
 The fog- wet smoke is all unmeet 
 
 For such as thou ; 
 Who thought' st the meadow verdure sweet, 
 
 But think'st not now. 
 
 " Time's hoarse unfeather'd nightingales " * 
 Inspire not like the birds of vales ; 
 I know their haunt in river dales 
 
 On many a tree, 
 And they reserve their sweetest tales 
 
 John Clare ! for thee. 
 
 I would not have thee come to sing 
 
 Long odes to that eternal spring. 
 
 On which young bards their changes ring 
 
 With birds and flowers ; 
 I look for many a better thing 
 
 Than brooks and bowers. 
 
 * Namely, Watchmen: authority, Samuel Taylor 
 Coleridge. 
 
 176
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Tis true thou paintest to the eye 
 
 The stra w- thatch' d roof with elm-trees nigh ; 
 
 But thou hast wisdom to descry 
 
 What lurks below : 
 The springing tear, the melting sigh, 
 
 The cheek's heart-glow. 
 
 The poets all, alive or dead. 
 
 Up Clare ! and drive them from thy head ; 
 
 Forget whatever thou hast read 
 
 Of phrase or rhyme ; 
 For he must lead and not be led 
 
 Who lives through time. 
 
 What thou hast been the world may see, 
 But guess not what thou still may'st be ; 
 Some in thy lines a Goldsmith see. 
 
 Or Dyer's tone ; 
 They praise thy worst ; the best of thee 
 
 Is still unknown. 
 
 Some grievously suspect thee, Clare ! 
 They want to know thy form of prayer ; 
 Thou dost not cant, and so they stare 
 
 And smell free-thinking ; 
 They bid thee of the devil beware. 
 
 And vote thee sinking. 
 
 With smile sedate and patient eye 
 Thou mark'st the creedmen pass thee by, 
 To rave and raise a hue and cry 
 
 177 M
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Against each other : 
 Thou see'st a father up on high, 
 In man a brother. 
 
 I would not have a mind hke thine 
 Thy artless childhood tastes resign, 
 Jostle in mobs, or sup and dine 
 
 Its powers away ; 
 And after noisy pleasures pine 
 
 Some distant day. 
 
 And, John ! though you may mildly scoff. 
 That curst confounded church- yard cough 
 Gives pretty plain advice, be off ! 
 
 While yet you can ; 
 It is not time yet, John ! to doff 
 
 Your outward man. 
 
 Drugs ? — Can the balm of Gilead yield 
 Health like the cowslip-yellowed field ? 
 Come sail down Avon and be healed, 
 
 Thou cockney Clare ! 
 My recipe is soon revealed ; 
 
 Sun, sea, and air. 
 
 "What glue has fasten' d thus thy brains 
 To kennel odours and brick lanes ? 
 Or is it intellect detains ? 
 
 For 'faith I'll own 
 The provinces must take some pains 
 
 To match the town, 
 178
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Does Agnus fling his crotchets wild, 
 " In wit a man," in heart a child ? 
 Has Lepus' sense thine ear beguiled 
 
 With easy strain ? 
 Or hast thou nodded blithe and smiled 
 
 At Herbert's vein ? 
 
 Does Nalla, that mild giant, bow 
 His dark and melancholy brow ; 
 Or are his lips distended now 
 
 With roaring glee. 
 That tells the heart is in a glow, 
 
 The spirit free ? 
 
 Or does the Opium-eater quell 
 
 Thy wondering sprite with placid spell ? 
 
 Still does ****** 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 But Clare ! the birds will soon be flown ; 
 Our Cambridge wit resumes his gown ; 
 Our English Petrarch trundles down 
 
 To Devon's valley ; 
 Why, when the Mag- is out of town, 
 
 Stand shilly-shally ? 
 
 The table-talk of London still 
 
 Shall serve for chat by rock and rill ; 
 
 And you again may have your fill 
 
 Of season'd mirth ; 
 But not if spade thy chamber drill 
 
 Six feet in earth. 
 179
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Come then ; thou never sawest an oak 
 Much bigger than a waggon- spoke : 
 Thou only couldst the Muse invoke 
 
 On treeless fen ; 
 Then come and aim a higher stroke, 
 
 My man of men ! 
 
 The wheel and oar by gurgling steam 
 
 Shall waft thee down the wood-brow'd stream; 
 
 And the red channel's broadening gleam 
 
 Dilate thy gaze ; 
 And thou shalt conjure up a theme 
 
 For future lays. 
 
 And Rip Van Winkel shall awake 
 From his loved idlesse for thy sake ; 
 In earnest stretch himself, and take 
 
 Pallet on thumb ; 
 Nor now his brains for subjects rake ; 
 
 John Clare is come. 
 
 His touch will hue by hue combine 
 The thoughtful eyes that steady shine. 
 The temples of Shakspearian line, 
 
 The quiet smile, 
 The sense and shrewdness which are thine, 
 
 Withouten guile. 
 
 And thou shalt have a jocund cup 
 To wind thy spirits gently up, 
 A stoop of hock, or claret sup, 
 
 180
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Once in a way ; 
 And we'll take hints from Mistress Gupp* 
 That same glad day. 
 
 An Idler. 
 
 TO CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Written over a flask of Sherris 
 
 Dear Lamb, I drink to thee, — to thee 
 Married to sweet Liberty ! — 
 
 What ! — old friend, and art thou freed 
 
 From the bondage of the pen ? 
 
 Free from care and toil indeed — 
 
 Free to wander amongst men 
 
 When and howsoe'er thou wilt, — 
 
 All thy drops of labour spilt 
 
 On those huge and figured pages, 
 
 Which will sleep unclasp'd for ages. 
 
 Little knowing who did wield 
 
 The quill that traversed their white field ? 
 
 Come, — another mighty health ! 
 
 Thou hast eam'd thy sum of wealth, 
 
 * The lady's name is Guppy; but the rhyme was 
 inexorable, and said Gupp. She is immortalised by 
 the invention of a machine to keep muffins hot over 
 the lid of the tea-urn. 
 
 181
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Countless ease, — immortal leisure, — 
 Days — and nights of boundless pleasure, 
 Checquer'd by no dream of pain, 
 Such as hangs on clerk-like brain 
 Like a nightmare, and doth press 
 The happy soul from happiness. 
 
 Oh ! happy thou, — whose all of time 
 (Day, and eve, and morning-prime) 
 Is fill'd with talk on pleasant themes, — 
 Or visions quaint, which come in dreams 
 Such as panther'd Bacchus rules, 
 When his rod is on ' the schools'. 
 Mixing wisdom with their wine ; — 
 Or, perhaps, thy wit so fine 
 Strayeth in some elder book, 
 Whereon our modem Solons look 
 With severe ungifted eyes. 
 Wondering what thou seest to prize. 
 Happy thou, whose skill can take 
 Pleasure at each turn, and slake 
 Thy thirst by every fountain brink, 
 Where less wise men would pause to 
 
 shrink. 
 Sometimes 'mid stately avenues 
 With Cowley thou or Marvel's muse 
 Dost walk, — or Gray, by Eton towers, 
 Or Pope, in Hampton's chestnut bowers, — 
 Or Walton, by his loved Lea stream : — 
 Or, — dost thou with our Milton dream 
 
 182
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Of Eden, and the Apocalypse, 
 
 And hear the words from his great lips ? 
 
 Speak ! — In what grove or hazel shade 
 
 For " musing Meditation made," 
 
 Dost wander, — or on Penshurst lawn, 
 
 Where Sydney's fame had time to dawn 
 
 And die, ere yet the hate of men 
 
 Could envy at his perfect pen ? 
 
 Or, dost thou in some London street, 
 
 With voices fill'd and thronging feet. 
 
 Loiter, with mien 'twixt grave and gay — 
 
 Or take, along some pathway sweet, 
 
 Thy calm suburban way ? — 
 
 Happy beyond that man of Ross, 
 
 Whom mere content could ne'er engross. 
 
 Art thou, — with hope,— health, — " learned 
 
 leisure," 
 Friends— books — thy thoughts — an endless 
 
 pleasure ! 
 — Yet — yet — (for when was pleasure made 
 Sunshine all without a shade ?) 
 Thou, perhaps, as now thou rovest 
 Through the busy scenes thou lovest 
 With an idler's careless look, 
 Turning some moth-pierced book, 
 Feel'st a sharp and sudden woe 
 For visions vanished long ago ! — 
 And then thou think'st how time has fled 
 Over thy unsilver'd head, 
 
 183
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Snatching many a fellow mind 
 
 Away, and leaving — what — behind ? — 
 
 Nought, alas ! save joy and pain 
 
 Mingled ever, like a strain 
 
 Of music where the discords vie 
 
 With the truer harmony. 
 
 So, perhaps, with thee the vein 
 
 Is sullied ever, — so the chain 
 
 Of habits and affections old. 
 
 Like a weight of solid gold, 
 
 Presseth on thy gentle breast. 
 
 Till sorrow rob thee of thy rest, 
 
 — Ay : So it is. Ev'n / (whose lot 
 The fairy Love so long forgot) 
 Seated beside this Sherris wine, 
 And near to books and shapes divine, 
 "Which poets and the painters past 
 Have wrought in lines that aye shall last 
 Ev'n I, with Shakspeare's self beside me 
 And One, whose tender talk can guide me 
 Through fears, and pains, and troublous 
 
 themes, — 
 "Whose smile doth fall upon my dreams 
 Like sunshine on a stormy sea, — 
 "Want something, — when I think of thee ! 
 
 May 25, 1825. C. 
 
 184
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 TO ELIA 
 
 Delightful Author ! — unto whom I owe 
 
 Moments and moods of fancy and of feeling 
 Afresh to grateful Memory now appealing, 
 Fain would I " bless thee — ere I let thee go ! " 
 From month to month has the exhaustless flow 
 Of thy original mind, its wealth revealing, 
 With quaintest humour, and deep pathos 
 healing 
 The world's rude wounds, revived Life's early 
 glow : 
 And, mixt with this, at times, to earnest 
 thought 
 Glimpses of truth, most simple and sublime. 
 By thy imagination have been brought 
 Over my spirit. From the olden time 
 Of Authorship thy Patent should be dated. 
 And thou with Marvell, Browne, and Burton, 
 mated. 
 
 Bernard Barton. 
 
 TO ELIA 
 
 Elia, thy reveries and vision'd themes 
 To Care's lorn heart a luscious pleasure 
 prove ; 
 Wild as the mystery of delightful dreams, 
 Soft as the anguish of remember'd love : 
 
 185
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Like records of past days their memory dances 
 Mid the cool feelings Manhood's reason 
 brings, 
 As the unearthly visions of romances 
 
 Peopled with sweet and uncreated things ; — 
 And yet thy themes thy gentle worth enhances ! 
 Then wake again thy wild harp's tenderest 
 strings, 
 Sing on, sweet Bard, let fairy loves again 
 
 Smile in thy dreams, with angel ecstacies ; 
 Bright o'er our souls will break the heavenly 
 strain 
 Through the dull gloom of earth's realities. 
 
 186
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 SOME FURTHER GLEANINGS FROM 
 THE " LONDON MAGAZINE " 
 
 I propose in the present chapter to string 
 together various notes which I have made in 
 the course of my examination of the con- 
 tents of the London Magazine, and also to 
 reprint some articles from its pages which 
 seem to have a title to be rescued from their 
 present obscurity. These notes will not be 
 confined to Lamb, but will deal also with 
 other persons and subjects. I hope the 
 reader will find them of sufficient interest to 
 acquit me of the charge of mere bookmaking. 
 I believe I have gone over the pages of the 
 London Magazine more carefully than any 
 one else has done since it was first pub- 
 lished ; and my notes may at least save some 
 trouble to future investigators. 
 
 On p. 325 of vol. ii. of the-London Magazine 
 
 187
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 there is to be found a rhymed " Address," 
 which was spoken at the English Opera 
 House by Miss Kelly, This is without sig- 
 nature, — and, beyond the fact that it is 
 evidently the work of a clever and prac- 
 tised versifier, there is no clear indication 
 in it from which its authorship may be in- 
 ferred. The circumstance that Lamb was 
 a great friend of Miss Kelly makes one 
 think of him as having been possibly its 
 author, and I, for one, should be very 
 willing to believe it to be his. But it is 
 more likely to have been the work of John 
 Hamilton Reynolds, who was also a friend of 
 Miss Kelly, and who was much interested in 
 theatrical matters.* Of course it may have 
 been the work of neither ; but I do not know 
 of any other contributor to the London 
 Magazine who was likely to have written it. 
 I print it then chiefly for the sake of its 
 speaker, for whom the lovers of Elia must 
 
 * H. C. Robinson, in his " Diary" (vol. iii. p. 19), 
 records, under date Jan. 31, 1833, that he paid a visit 
 to the Strand Theatre, where Miss Kelly was giving 
 an entertainment. Parts of it, he says, were so much 
 in Lamb's manner that he thought they must have 
 been written by him ; but he found afterwards that 
 Reynolds was the author. 
 
 188
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 always have a liking, if only because she 
 was the original of his " Barbara S " 
 
 ADDRESS SPOKEN, IN THE CHARACTER 
 
 OF THE COMIC MUSE, BY MISS KELLY, 
 
 AT THE ENGLISH OPERA HOUSE. 
 
 %* The lines in inverted commas are omitted 
 by Miss Kelly, 
 
 " The times are out of joint ! " — So Shakespeare 
 
 said. 
 E'en when the limbs of "Wit were finely made ; 
 Shakespeare ! whose fancy exquisitely wrought 
 Those fine ideal statues of bright thought. 
 Which, struck with power, by patient grace 
 
 refined, 
 Stand now the antique models of the mind ! 
 The times are out of joint ! For limping Wit 
 Halts o'er the vacant stage and desart pit ; 
 And cold distorted Humour feebly seeks 
 To call up vanish'd laughter on stem cheeks. 
 Folks sometimes dig up rehcs strange and vast, 
 Relics of man, huge remnants of the past ; — 
 A giant boot, — a teapot that wotild make 
 Tea of the river Lea or Keswick lake ; 
 And these denote what Brobdignags existed 
 In times when such a boot prevail'd as this 
 
 did. 
 
 189
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 So, when all London shall be earthed down, 
 And farmers reap their wheat above the 
 
 town, — 
 And golden barley nod its ears of grain 
 O'er spots, where man hath stretch'd his ears in 
 
 vain : — 
 Some digging soul shall strike his spade, — a 
 
 hard one — 
 Against the slated roof of Covent Garden ; — 
 Or, labouring in an agricultural fury. 
 Turn up a tile upon the top of Drury ! 
 Then natives, startled at the news, will crowd, 
 Peep through the aperture, and cry aloud, — 
 " What houses ! — dear ! — in those tremendous 
 
 days, 
 How great, how matchless, must have been 
 
 their plays. 
 Oblivion will have lock'd within her den 
 All trace of Bluebeards and of Miller's Men ; 
 And folks will think, poor simples ! that then 
 
 wit 
 And sense were, — in proportion to their pit! 
 
 " Oh ! for the good old times, when Congreve's 
 
 wit 
 "Play'd hke a summer Hghtning through the 
 
 pit ; 
 " And Farquhar's sweet familiar pleasantry 
 " Taught human hearts how happy they might 
 
 be ; — 
 
 190
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 " And Gibber idled in that easy style, 
 
 " Which makes the very mind to dream and 
 
 smile ! " 
 All — all is o'er ! And when anon I meet 
 A shop, in some ideal Monmouth-street,— 
 Where, when the Muse is straiten'd by dis- 
 tresses, 
 The utmost price is given for fancy dresses ; — 
 I'll sell all, all, — mask, humour, sock, and hope ; 
 And part with the good-will,— and shut up 
 shop ! 
 
 But is all hope betray' d ? — And may I not 
 Yet see the dawning of a happier lot ; — 
 May I not make this summer house my own, 
 Spite of the wint'ry managerial frown 
 Of Alexandrine seasons, w^hich do wrong 
 Without remorse, and " drag slow lengths 
 
 along!" 
 Yes ! — here shall be my home — my spirit here, 
 Shall laugh to nought the lengthening wint'ry 
 
 year,— 
 Bring but your hearts, and I'll find song and 
 
 mirth 
 To keep a little summer yet on earth ! 
 
 The next piece I shall quote was called 
 forth by the death of Keats, and appeared 
 in the number of the London Magazine for 
 April 1821. I should like to attribute this 
 
 191
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 to Lamb, if I could, and since it is signed 
 "L." I should not be altogether without jus- 
 tification if I did so. Lamb did on at least 
 two occasions sign his contributions to the 
 London Magazine with the initial " L." But 
 the evidence of style in this case forbids us 
 to think that he could have been the writer. 
 Of course one would hardly expect, in such 
 a hasty notice, to find the most charac- 
 teristic qualities of its author displayed ; 
 but I think that if Lamb had written it, 
 there would have been in it a sentence or 
 two the peculiarities of which would have 
 discovered his craftsmanship. Probably it 
 is the production of B. "W. Proctor, who 
 certainly used the signature " L." in the 
 London Magazine occasionally. Let the 
 intrinsic interest of the piece then excuse 
 its reproduction here — if excuse is required. 
 
 TOAXTN CONVERSATION 
 
 DEATH OF MR. JOHN KEATS 
 
 "W^e commence our article this month with 
 but a melancholy subject — the death of Mr. 
 John Keats. — It is, perhaps, an unfit topic to 
 
 192
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 be discussed under this head, but we know 
 not where else to place it, and we could not 
 reconcile ourselves to the idea of letting a 
 poet's death pass by in the common obituary. 
 He died on February 23, 1821, at Rome, 
 whither he had gone for the benefit of his 
 health. His complaint was a consumption, 
 under which he had languished for some 
 time, but his death was accelerated by a cold 
 caught in his voyage to Italy. 
 
 Mr. Keats was, in the truest sense of the 
 word, A Poet. — There is but a small portion 
 of the public acquainted with the writings 
 of this young man ; yet they were full of 
 high imagination and delicate fancy, and his 
 images were beautiful and more entirely his 
 own, perhaps, than those of any living 
 writer whatever. He had a fine ear, a 
 tender heart, and at times great force and 
 originality of expression ; and notwith- 
 standing all this, he has been suffered to 
 rise and pass away almost without a notice ; 
 the laurel has been awarded (for the pre- 
 sent) to other brows : the bolder aspirants 
 have been allowed to take their station on 
 the slippery steps of the temple of fame, 
 while he has been nearly hidden among the 
 
 193 N
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 crowd during his life, and has at last died, 
 solitary and in sorrow, in a foreign land. 
 
 It is at all times difficult, if not impossible, 
 to argue others into a love of poets and 
 poetry : it is altogether a matter of feeling, 
 and we must leave to time (while it hallows 
 his memory) to do justice to the reputation 
 of Keats. There were many, however, even 
 among the critics living, who held his powers 
 in high estimation ; and it was well observed 
 by the Editor of the Edinburgh Review that 
 there was no other Author whatever whose 
 writings could form so good a test by which 
 to try the love which any one professed to 
 bear towards poetry. 
 
 When Keats left England he had a pre- 
 sentiment that he should not return : that 
 this has been too sadly realised the reader 
 already knows. — After his arrival in Italy 
 he revived for a brief period, but soon 
 afterwards declined, and sunk gradually into 
 his grave. He was one of three English 
 poets who had been compelled by circum- 
 stances to adopt a foreign country as their 
 own. He was the youngest, but the first to 
 leave us. His sad and beautiful wish is at 
 last accomplished : it was that he might 
 
 194
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 drink " of the warm south," and " leave the 
 world unseen," — and — (he is addressing the 
 nightingale) — 
 
 *' And with thee fade away into the forest dim : 
 Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget 
 
 What thou amongst the leaves hast never known, 
 The weariness, the fever, and the fret 
 
 Here, where men sit and hear each other groan ; 
 Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last grey hairs. 
 Where youth givu's pale, and spectre-thin, and dies ; 
 
 Where but to think is to be full of sorrow 
 And leaden-eyed despairs, 
 
 Where beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, 
 Or new love pine at them beyond to-morrow." 
 
 A few weeks before he died a gentleman, 
 who was sitting by his bedside, spoke of an 
 inscription to his memory, but he declined 
 this altogether, — desiring that there should 
 be no mention of his name or country ; " or 
 if any," said he, " let it be — Here lies the 
 body of one whose name was writ in water!" — 
 There is something in this to us most painfully 
 affecting ; indeed the whole story of his later 
 days is well calculated to make a deep im- 
 pression. It is to be hoped that his bio- 
 graphy will be given to the world, and also 
 whatever he may have left (whether in 
 poetry or prose) behind him. The public is 
 
 195
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 fond of patronising poets ; they are con- 
 sidered in the light of an almost helpless 
 race ; they are bright as stars, but like 
 meteors : 
 
 " Short-lived and self-consuming." 
 
 "We do not claim the patronage of the public 
 for Mr. Keats, but we hope that it will now 
 cast aside every little and unworthy preju- 
 dice, and do justice to the high memory of a 
 young but undoubted poet. L. 
 
 In the eighth volume of the London Maga- 
 zine appeared (p. 497) Lamb's critical note 
 " On a Passage in ' The Tempest.' " In the 
 same volume (p. 635) there is a note signed 
 " Laelius," in which Lamb's explanation of 
 the passage is disputed, and the writer gives 
 a different solution of the enigma. I think 
 that this note is of sufficient importance to 
 deserve reproduction. ^X/'hether Lamb's or 
 Laelius's solution is the true one I do not feel 
 called upon to decide ; but I think that the 
 latter writer makes out a case that deserves 
 careful consideration. 
 
 196
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 NOTE TO ELIA, ON THE "PASSAGE 
 IN THE TEMPEST." 
 
 Sir, — In reading the last number of the 
 London Magazine, I was much struck by the 
 elucidation of a passage in the Tempest, 
 proposed by you ; more, I confess, by its 
 ingenuity than its truthfulness, for we all 
 have our different theories on such passages, 
 and self-complacency makes each think his 
 own the true one. "Will you permit me to 
 offer mine to your notice. First, however, I 
 will take the liberty of stating my objections 
 to yonrs. The beautiful application you 
 make, of an historical fact to the solution of 
 this poetic difficulty, is too much of a mere 
 hypothesis, calculated more to inveigle than 
 convince the judgment. At the same time, 
 it would be presumption, and I do not take 
 it upon me, to assert that your hypothesis is 
 absolutely a false one. It may give the true 
 solution of the passage ; but how are we to 
 know that it does ? The fashion so prevalent 
 among critics of violently denouncing one 
 commentary or elucidation, to exalt another, 
 
 197
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 has always appeared to me very absurd, and 
 will, I am sure, to others, when the inade- 
 quacy of words clearly to express, and 
 accurately to define our ideas, is considered. 
 It is evident to me, that the very same sen- 
 tence must frequently be capable of more 
 than one meaning ; especially in poetry or 
 eloquence, where propriety of language is 
 transgressed by prescription, and whose very 
 essence consists in a perpetual abuse of 
 speech. The passage in the Tempest is a 
 good instance of this ambiguity ; it will suit 
 your hypothesis, as well, perhaps, as any 
 other explanation which can be given of it. 
 Shakespeare might certainly have " come 
 fresh from reading some older narrative of 
 this deliverance of Algier by a witch," and 
 might have "transferred the merit of the 
 deed to his Sycorax ; " nor are his words of 
 so determinate a character as to render such 
 an hypothesis either impossible in fact, or 
 improbable. I therefore do not feel myself 
 warranted in rejecting your sense of the 
 lines, as inadmissible or incorrect. But if 
 there is another sense, which can be fairly 
 put upon the passage, as convenient to the 
 words as this, and /6'55 dependent on hypo- 
 
 198
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 thetical conjecture of what might have been 
 passing in the author's mind when he wrote 
 it — we are bound by all the laws of just 
 criticism to give it the preference, I am so 
 much the partisan of my own theory, as to 
 think that such a sense is that which I am 
 about to propose. Besides, you will perhaps 
 agree with me, that it is not quite in Shake- 
 speare's manner to afford his readers such 
 brief and ambiguous hints upon historical 
 matters, as this would be, were your sense 
 of the passage adopted ; he is always fond 
 of showing his learning, without much respect 
 either to place or occasion, and would most 
 probably have given the history of the "Witch 
 of Algiers in full, had her image been in his 
 mind. Does it not also appear somewhat 
 subversive of your theory, that in his work, 
 Ogilby neglects quoting the "older narrative," 
 which you suppose the " dramatist had come 
 fresh from reading," if such narrative ever 
 existed ? His obscure authorities are appar- 
 ently all Flemings or Spaniards, who probably 
 accompanied Charles to Algiers. Here, you 
 see, in this supposition of an older narrative, 
 is a second hypothesis, another air-built castle 
 on the top of the first one. However, without 
 
 199
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 more ado, let me bring forth my own ridi- 
 atltts imis, and have done. The sense which 
 I always attributed to the passage is this ; 
 mio verbo,the "Witch Sycorax was pregnant ; — 
 and that humanity which teaches us to spare 
 the guilty mother for the sake of her embryo 
 innocent, was imputed by Shakespeare to the 
 Algerines on this occasion. Let us see how 
 the context bears out this explication : 
 
 Prospero. Hast thou forgot 
 The foul witch Sycorax, who, with age, and envy, 
 Was grown into a hoop ? hast thou forgot her? 
 
 Ariel. No, sir. 
 
 Pros. Thou hast; Where was she born ? speak ; tell 
 me. 
 
 Ar. Sir, in Argier. 
 
 Pros. Oh, was she so ? I must, 
 Once in a month, recount what thou hast been. 
 Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch, Sycorax, 
 For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible 
 To enter human hearing, from Argier, 
 Thou know'st, was banish'd ; for one thing she did. 
 They would not take her life : Is this not true ? 
 
 Ar. Ay, sir. 
 
 Pros. This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child. 
 And here was left by the sailors. 
 
 Do you not think, Sir, that this text fully 
 substantiates my theory, and that it is no 
 longer necessary to resort to an hypothesis 
 for the elucidation of the passage — 
 
 200
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 for one thing she did, 
 
 They would not take her life. 
 
 The " one thing she did" is evidently what 
 Shakespeare in his Merchant of Venice, 
 with great delicacy calls " the deed of kind ;" 
 and this sense, though by no means obvious, 
 is justly inferrible from the context. Why 
 then should it not be preferred ? I have not 
 been able to discover any thing in the rest of 
 the piece inconsistent with the meaning here 
 attributed to these lines ; you, perhaps, may 
 be more successful. A friend objected to 
 me, that the law is — to spare the mother only 
 till the birth of her child, and therefore that 
 the "Witch, instead of being exiled at once, 
 would have been kept till she was delivered, 
 and then punished with death for her " mani- 
 fold mischiefs." But poets are not expected 
 to dispense justice with such nice and legal 
 discrimination — not to speak of what might 
 have been the immediate necessity of expel- 
 ling Sycorax from the Algerine community, 
 either by death or banishment ; the former 
 of which was forbidden by the existing cir- 
 cumstances of her situation. 
 
 Hoping to have made a convert of you, by 
 the above more simple and less conjectural 
 
 201
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 explanation of this obscure passage, and 
 most heartily agreeing with you on the general 
 ineptitude of the notes and commentaries 
 which overwhelm the text of Shakespeare, 
 I remain, Sir, with great respect. 
 Your humble servant, 
 
 Laelius. 
 
 I do not think that the history of "William 
 Hazlitt's connection with the London Maga- 
 zine has yet been traced as carefully as it 
 might be. I think it is probable that a care- 
 ful search through it would disclose a good 
 many unknown contributions of his to its 
 pages. Such a search I do not pretend to 
 have made : but I have jotted down a few 
 notes on the subject which will perhaps be 
 found of use by future inquirers. 
 
 B. "W. Procter, speaking of the contributors 
 to the London Magazine in his " Memoir of 
 Charles Lamb," says of Hazlitt, that " he 
 wrote all the articles which appear under the 
 head ' Drama ' ; the twelve essays entitled 
 'Table Talk' ; and the papers on Fonthill 
 
 202
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Abbey, and on the Angerstein pictures, and 
 the Elgin marbles." Procter here claims at 
 once too little and too much, for Hazlitt un- 
 doubtedly contributed other articles to the 
 magazine, besides those which are mentioned ; 
 but he certainly did not write all the 
 dramatic notices. In fact he wrote only the 
 articles on the drama which appeared in the 
 first twelve numbers of the magazine. These 
 articles are eleven in number, there being no 
 dramatic notice in the part for November 
 1820. It would be a matter of doubt indeed, 
 whether all these articles were by Hazlitt, 
 had we not his express statement on this 
 point. The articles bore various signatures, 
 such as " L. M.," " L.," "T.," and " M." The 
 last article, however, was signed " W". H.," 
 and in it the writer claimed the authorship 
 of all the previous articles, save that in the 
 September number, which is stated to have 
 been written by a friend. In the final 
 article Hazlitt declared his intention of 
 discontinuing the series — and I believe that 
 none of the later dramatic notices in the 
 magazine were written by him. 
 
 Hazlitt as a writer and critic was at his 
 best during the time that he was contributing 
 
 203
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 to the London Magazine. The critical notices 
 of the drama that appeared in its pages have 
 been only partially reproduced ; but it is to 
 be hoped that in the new edition of Hazlitt's 
 works which is now in course of publication 
 they will be reprinted in full. The writers 
 on the stage whose works are able to interest 
 readers that care nothing for the subject 
 itself, may be counted on the fingers of one 
 hand — and will even then leave one, if not 
 two, fingers uncounted. Colley Gibber, Lamb, 
 Hazlitt, and (perhaps) Leigh Hunt, sum them 
 all up ; at least I know of no other English 
 writers who deserve to be mentioned in the 
 same breath with these. Of the modern 
 writers we must, I think, give the palm to 
 Hazlitt ; not indeed that he wrote on the stage 
 better than Lamb ; but simply because he 
 wrote much more extensively on the subject. 
 He enjoyed nothing more and few things so 
 much as seeing theatrical performances and 
 writing about them ; and he always succeeds 
 in imparting some portion of his own pleasure 
 to the reader. If it were indeed the chief 
 aim of life, as Walter Pater thought it 
 should be, to compress into it the greatest 
 possible number of vivid sensations, then the 
 
 204
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 life of Hazlitt was almost an ideal one. His 
 last words : " "Well, I have had a happy life," 
 which seem so astonishing at first, become 
 intelligible when we consider how many 
 sources of enjoyment he had, and how keen 
 was his relish of them. 
 
 Some of the reviews of books in the London 
 Magazine were, I believe, written by Hazlitt, 
 though I judge this from internal evidence 
 alone, inasmuch as they bear no signature. 
 One of these reviews is so remarkable and 
 so characteristic of its author that I think 
 it is well worth dwelling upon. It ap- 
 peared in the number of the London 
 Magazine for February 1823, and was a 
 notice of Scott's " Peveril of the Peak." 
 Hazlitt's feelings towards Scott were of a 
 very mixed kind. He could not help admir- 
 ing his genius, but it was with a grudging and 
 unwilling admiration. He smarted much 
 under the attacks which the writers in Black- 
 ivood's Magazine had directed against him, 
 and he had persuaded himself that Scott, if 
 not one of his actual assailants, at least incited 
 or urged on others to attack him. This was, 
 of course, an unfounded notion ; but it so 
 acted on the moody and mistrustful tempera- 
 
 205
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 ment of Hazlitt that it became a fixed idea 
 with him. He was, I need not say, a good 
 hater, and, as even his friends found, never 
 disposed to moderate his language out of 
 respect for the feelings of others. In the 
 review of " Peveril of the Peak " he took 
 occasion to liberate his pent-up spleen against 
 Scott in a manner which can only be 
 described as amazing. Even the critics of 
 Keats and Shelley did not infuse more venom 
 into their articles than Hazlitt did in attack- 
 ing Scott. Yet it is remarkable that while 
 assailing Scott's personal character with 
 extreme virulence he was yet quite capable 
 of doing justice to his literary powers. The 
 review begins thus : 
 
 The author of " "Waverley " is here himself 
 again ; and it is on English ground that he has 
 come upon his feet. " Peveril of the Peak " is 
 all but equal to the best of the Scotch Novels. 
 It is no weaving up of old odds and ends ; no 
 lazy repetition of himself at second-hand, and 
 the worse for the wear. Peveril is all new, 
 good, full of life, spirit, character, bustle, 
 incident and expectation ; nothing is wanting 
 to make it quite equal to the best of his former 
 productions, but that it has not the same 
 
 206
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 intense interest, nor the same preternatural and 
 over-powering imagery, . . . The present novel 
 comes the nearest to " Old Mortality," both 
 in the class of subjects of which it treats, and 
 in the indefatigable spirit and hurried movement 
 of the execution. It differs from that noble 
 masterpiece in this, that Sir Walter (or whoever 
 else, in the devil's name, it is) has not infused 
 the same depth or loftiness of sentiment into 
 his English Roundheads and Cavaliers, as into 
 his Scotch Covenanters and Royalists ; that 
 the characters are left more in the outlines and 
 dead colouring ; and though the incidents 
 follow one another as rapidly, and have great 
 variety and contrast, there is not the same 
 accumulation of interest, the same thickening 
 of the plot, nor the same thronging together 
 of eager and complicated groups upon the 
 canvas. His English imagination is not so fully 
 peopled with character, manners, and senti- 
 ment as his Scotch understanding is ; but, 
 by the mass, they are not " thinly scattered 
 to make up a show ! " There is cut and come 
 again. 
 
 There is more to the same effect ; and it is 
 hardly possible not to admire the art with 
 which the writer heaps praise upon his 
 victim in order to enhance the effect of the 
 denunciation which follows : — 
 
 207
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 There were two things that we used to 
 admire of old in this author, and that we have 
 had occasion to admire anew in the present 
 instance — the extreme hfe of mind or natural- 
 ness displayed in the descriptions, and the 
 magnanimity and freedom from bigotry and 
 prejudice shown in the drawing of the char- 
 acters. This last quality is the more remark- 
 able, as the reputed author is accused of being 
 a thorough-paced partisan in his own person — 
 intolerant, mercenary, mean ; a professed 
 toadeater, a sturdy hack, a pitiful retailer or 
 suborner of infamous slanders, a literary Jack 
 Ketch, who would greedily sacrifice any one of 
 another way of thinking as a victim to pre- 
 judice and power, and yet would do it by 
 other hands rather than appear in it him- 
 self.* 
 
 There is a good deal more of this ; but I 
 have surely quoted enough, if not too much. 
 It was possible for the author to say more, 
 but it was not within his power to add to 
 the concentrated venom of the sentence I 
 have quoted. Knowing what we know now 
 of Sir Walter Scott it seems almost incredible 
 
 * In his " Spirit of the Age," Hazlitt repeated much 
 of what he had said in the review of ♦' Peveril of the 
 Peak," but in a much milder form. 
 
 208
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 that Hazlitt could have so misapprehended 
 his character. But Hazlitt, like Cobbett, 
 had in an extreme degree the defects of his 
 qualities. No writer ever surpassed him in 
 the vigour, directness, and masculine energy 
 of his style. His sentences tell on the 
 reader's mind, as the blows of a sledge- 
 hammer tell upon the metal on a blacksmith's 
 anvil. The pity was that his blows were 
 sometimes aimed amiss, and his force was 
 expended in striking at phantoms created by 
 his imagination. Yet, though he might, as 
 Lamb said, do bad actions, he was certainly 
 far from being a bad man. His intellect was 
 too often dominated by his passions ; but 
 however he might be mistaken, it is certain 
 that he always believed what he said, and 
 that he was never tempted by mercenary 
 considerations to write against his convic- 
 tions. He had indeed such a passion for 
 telling the truth, as he conceived it, that 
 he would tell it when it was his interest, 
 nay, even when it was his duty to refrain 
 from telling it. Friendly as he was with 
 Coleridge and "Wordsworth he attacked them 
 with a bitterness almost surpassing that of 
 their worst enemies. In their cases, as in 
 
 209 o
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Scott's, he thought apparently that the praise 
 he bestowed upon them was more than an 
 atonement for his censure. He did not 
 reflect or remember that the minds of most 
 men are so constituted that praise is almost 
 invariably discounted, while censure is 
 accepted at more than its proper value. 
 In Crabb Robinson's "Diary" there is a 
 passage which is too apposite not to be quoted 
 in this connection : — 
 
 We talked of Hazlitt's late ferocious attack 
 on Coleridge, which Lamb thought fair enough, 
 between the parties ; but he was half-angry 
 with Martin Burney for asserting that the 
 praise was greater than the abuse. " Nobody," 
 said Lamb, " will care about or understand the 
 ' taking up the deep pauses of conversation 
 between seraphs and cardinals,' but the satire 
 will be universally felt. Such an article is like 
 saluting a man, ' Sir, you are the greatest man 
 I ever saw,' and then pulling him by the 
 nose." 
 
 The article on Scott's " Peveril " was the 
 cause of much trouble to the proprietors of 
 the London Magazine. It was, it appears, 
 sent in very late in the month, so that it went 
 to the printers without examination. As 
 
 210
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 soon as the offensive passages about Scott 
 were discovered the page containing them 
 was cancelled, and a new one, in which they 
 were omitted, was substituted. A few copies 
 of the magazine had, however, already been 
 distributed and these it was found impossible 
 to recall. More than a year afterwards one 
 of these uncancelled copies fell into the hands 
 of a writer in Blackivood's Mai^aziiic. It was 
 much too good a cudgel with which to bela- 
 bour the rival magazine to be neglected — 
 and therefore an article appeared in which 
 the offensive passages were quoted, and their 
 writer was held up to the scorn and execra- 
 tion of the readers of Blackwood' s Magazine. 
 The review, absurdly enough, was attributed 
 to the pen of John Taylor, the leading pro- 
 prietor of the London Magazine ; and he was 
 accused of blackguardism for having written 
 it, and cowardice for having suppressed it. 
 To this Taylor replied by denying the 
 charge, and by explaining the facts as given 
 above. The review, he said, was written by 
 " a celebrated critic," and the offending 
 passages were suppressed, not out of fear, 
 but out of a feeling of respect for Sir "Walter 
 Scott. So the matter appears to have 
 
 211
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 ended ; but it seems to have led to the 
 breaking of Hazlitt's connection with the 
 London Magazine. At all events I can find 
 but one other article from his pen which 
 appeared in the magazine subsequently to the 
 review of " Peveril of the Peak." 
 
 It is well known that there was for a time 
 (apparently between 1814 and 1823) a certain 
 coolness in the relations between Lamb and 
 Hazlitt. There does not seem to have been 
 any open quarrel, and, so far as can now be 
 ascertained, Hazlitt only was to blame for 
 the estrangement. I do not think that the 
 cause — or at least one of the causes — 
 of this temporary coolness between them 
 has ever been pointed out. I believe, how- 
 ever, that it can be inferred from a letter 
 of Hazlitt's to John Scott, which is printed 
 in Mr, "W. C. Hazlitt's " Four Generations of 
 a Literary Family." In this letter, which is 
 dated by Mr. W. C. Hazlitt April 12, 1820, 
 the writer says : " Do you keep the Past 
 and Future ? You see Lamb argues the 
 same view of the subject. That ' young 
 master ' will anticipate all my discoveries, 
 if I don't mind." " The Past and Future," 
 which is here alluded to, is one of the 
 
 212
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 essays that first appeared in Hazlitt's 
 "Table Talk " when published in 1822. It 
 is evident from the letter that the author had 
 sent it to Scott as a proposed contribution to 
 the London Magazine, though that gentleman 
 did not find it suitable for publication there. 
 But what does Hazlitt's reference to Lamb 
 mean ? A perusal of " Past and Future," 
 together with Lamb's " New Year's Eve," 
 makes the matter clear. In both essays we find 
 the writers confessing that they find it more 
 pleasant to dwell upon the past than upon 
 the future, and that the pleasures of memory 
 are more grateful to them than those of 
 anticipation. The likeness in this respect 
 between the two essays is indeed rather sin- 
 gular, and it is curious that it has not before 
 been pointed out. That Hazlitt was allud- 
 ing to Lamb's " New year's Eve " is evident 
 from the phrase " young master " which he 
 puts between quotation marks, and which is 
 found in Lamb's essay. It is, of course, un- 
 likely that there was any good ground for 
 Hazlitt's suspicion of plagiarism on the part 
 of his friend. The idea in question was at 
 least as likely to occur to Lamb as to Hazlitt. 
 Nothing is more probable than that it was 
 
 213
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 the outcome of an exchange of confidences 
 in conversation, so that neither could claim 
 an exclusive property in the idea. More- 
 over, it is in the treatment of an idea rather 
 than in the idea itself that the merit of an 
 essay usually consists. Original ideas are 
 hard to find, and when found are likely 
 enough to prove merely paradoxes ; but it 
 is comparatively easy to treat an old thought 
 in an original manner. Possibly Lamb was 
 occasionally indebted to Hazlitt for an idea, 
 but if so it is certain that Hazlitt must have 
 been quite as often indebted to Lamb. 
 Hazlitt in fact practically confesses as much 
 in the essay in which he describes so finely 
 the company and the talk at Lamb's evening 
 gatherings. But he was not exempt from one 
 of the commonest of failings amongst authors 
 who are, like actors, notoriously a jealous 
 tribe, and as tenacious of their property in 
 an idea as a country squire is of the game 
 on his estate. It may be thought that I am 
 attributing too great an effect to a trifling 
 cause ; but if P. G. Patmore's account of 
 Hazlitt in " My Friends and Acquaintances " 
 is not a grossly overcharged caricature of 
 him, the cause was quite sufficient to pro- 
 
 214
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 duce the effect I have attributed to it. There 
 may have been other contributory causes ; 
 but this, I think, was probably the leading 
 one. 
 
 I said, in a former chapter, that all pre- 
 vious investigators of the contents of the 
 London Magazine seemed to have contented 
 themselves with ascribing to Lamb such 
 articles only as appeared to be his by evi- 
 dence that appeared upon the surface. This 
 statement, however, requires to be a little 
 qualified. It is well known that a second 
 series of the Elia essays was published in 
 Philadelphia in 1828 — five years before the 
 publication of the English edition. This, 
 being an unauthorised collection, was of 
 course made up according to the fancy of 
 the compiler. Though it professed to contain 
 only essays which had appeared in the 
 London Magazine, it did in fact include 
 articles from other sources, namely, some 
 from Hunt's "Reflector," and one piece 
 ("On the Melancholy of Tailors") from the 
 " Champion," * Besides these the editor ven- 
 
 * These pieces, however, were probably not taken 
 from the original sources, but from the edition of 
 Lamb's " Works " published in 1818, 
 
 215
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 tured to ascribe to Lamb three pieces in the 
 London Magazine, which were certainly not 
 his. These are as follows : " The Nuns and 
 Ale of Caverswell," "Twelfth Night, or AXThat 
 you will," and " Valentine's Day." For the 
 inclusion of the first piece the editor had 
 little or no excuse, since it is not at all in 
 Lamb's style, and was in fact written by 
 Allan Cunningham. There was more excuse 
 for the inclusion of the others, which have 
 certainly some resemblance, if only a super- 
 ficial one, to Lamb's style. They were, as 
 Canon Ainger has pointed out,* written by 
 B. "W. Procter, whom I have already men- 
 tioned as one of Lamb's imitators in thought 
 and style. Seeing that Lamb had already 
 dealt with the subject of " Valentine's Day," 
 it seems curious that Procter should have 
 had the courage to venture upon it after him ; 
 and more curious that Lamb's American 
 editor did not see how inferior the copy was 
 to the original.! 
 
 * See Athciiaum, June 7, 1890. 
 
 t There is, I believe, no doubt that Procter was the 
 author of " Valentine's Day " ; yet there is a passage 
 in it, which, if taken as a statement of fact, would 
 seem to show that it cannot be his. In the course of 
 the essay the writer says : " I am a little out of the 
 
 216
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 In "Twelfth Night," Procter made his 
 nearest approach to a successful imitation of 
 Lamb's style. It was evidently suggested by 
 Elia's " All Fools' Day." It contains two or 
 three passages which are, I think, of suffi- 
 cient interest to justify their quotation. " I 
 ean almost imagine," says the author, "a con- 
 tributor's circle, potent as a magician's " : 
 
 Shall I try to show our Elia's glancing wit ? 
 Shall I trace the deep and fine vein of Mr. 
 Table Talk ? Shall I paint the cheerful gravity 
 
 (almost a paradox) of D ? the restless 
 
 pleasantry of Janus, ever- veering, catching the 
 sun and the shade ? Shall I strive to out-do 
 Mr. Herbert, in his humour, in his portraits so 
 piquant and so true ? Or shall I sharpen my 
 pen's point, and hit off our friend Lycus's 
 w^aggery, his puns, and (what is much better 
 than either) his poetry ? Or paint our good 
 A , always gay ; like a huge forest trans- 
 planted, a rus in iirhe, — musical as Polypheme, 
 and as great ? Shall I go on ? Ah ! no. For 
 w^ho can tell of our doings ? Who can paint a 
 laugh ? Who can carry away a rich thought 
 
 habit of writing Valentines (thirty years in a warm 
 climate make a difference in a man nowadays)." 
 Procter had certainly not passed " thirty years in a 
 warm climate " ; but the passage was probably intro- 
 duced to conceal the authorship of the essay. 
 
 217
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 with all its bloom ? Where is the freshness of 
 the jest that hung upon accident or circum- 
 stance ? It may not be done. 
 
 It is hardly necessary to repeat here what 
 I have said in a former page as to the identi- 
 ties of the various contributors to the London 
 Magazine who are here alluded to. " Lycus ' ' 
 
 is, of course, Thomas Hood, and " D " 
 
 De Quincey, or perhaps George Darley ; 
 
 while "A ," I believe, stands for Allan 
 
 Cunningham, 
 
 The following is the final and most inter- 
 esting passage of " Twelfth Night " : 
 
 But of all the feasts and gay doings which I 
 have known, none were like that one " Twelfth 
 
 Night" which I passed at L 's house some 
 
 five or six years ago. That was a night ! O 
 Jupiter ! O Bacchus ! There was too much 
 mirth. The muscles were stretched and 
 strained by laughing. Our host was a right 
 merry man — a man of humour, of good nature, 
 of high animal spirits, fantastic. He could 
 make " the table " ring and roar beyond any 
 one I ever knew. His jokes would not bear a 
 strict glance, sometimes ; but they were better 
 than wit, which is too serious. Wit sets one 
 
 thinking, but L did not do this. He 
 
 laughed ; he talked ; he told good stories ; he 
 
 218
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 mimicked friend and foe (good naturedly) ; he 
 spoke burlesque in verse ; he misplaced 
 epithets ; he reconciled contradictions ; he 
 tacked extremities to each other — the grave 
 and the gay, — sense and nonsense. He had 
 drawn "the king," and was as absolute as a 
 Fate. He ordered things impossible. He in- 
 sisted that black was white, and he insisted 
 that others should think so too. Oh! there was 
 no withstanding him, he was so pleasant a 
 potentate : he said something — nothing — and 
 looked round for the boisterous homage of his 
 neighbours, and received it smiling and con- 
 tent. 
 
 That night we had songs, English and Ttahan ; 
 we had mistletoe (there were ladies under it) — • 
 we had coffee and wines, and Twelfth Night 
 characters. We had a supper where joke and 
 hospitality reigned. And there were cold meats, 
 and salads, and pies, and jellies, and wines of 
 all colours, mocking with their lustre the topaz 
 and the ruby, and there were pyramids of 
 fruit, and mountains of rich cake, all decked 
 with sprigs of holly and laurel. And we had 
 a huge "wassail bowl": — One? We had a 
 dozen, brimming and steaming, and scented 
 with cloves and cinnamon. We ate and we 
 drank, and we shouted. One sang, and another 
 spoke (like a parliament orator), and one gave 
 
 219
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 an extravagant toast ; and a fourth laughed 
 out at nothing ; and one cried, from very pain, 
 that he could " laugh no rjzore,'" and instantly a 
 fresh joke was started, and the sufferer 
 screamed with delight, and almost rolled from 
 his chair. The cup of mirth was brimming. 
 It went round and round again, and every one 
 had his fill. This was no meagre shadowy 
 banquet, — no Barmecide feast, — no card-party 
 coldly decorous (where you lose your money, 
 and pay for the candles). It was a revel and a 
 jollity. Though our mirth was becoming, it 
 raged and was loud like thunder. It lasted 
 from nine o'clock at night till early breakfast 
 (eight o'clock) in the morning, and it still lives 
 in my recollection as the brightest day (or 
 night) of the calendar. 
 
 Is this a description of a convivial evening 
 at Charles Lamb's ? If so it is surely a good 
 deal overcoloured — or else it represents a 
 very exceptional occurrence. The extrava- 
 gant mirth of the party and the costliness of 
 the entertainment are not such as we usually 
 associate with Lamb ; though the character 
 of the host, allowing for some strokes of 
 exaggeration, fits him well enough. There 
 is a passage in Procter's " Recollections of 
 Men of Letters " (" Bryan Waller Procter," 
 
 220
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 1877), which seems to show that it was at 
 Leigh Hunt's, and not at Lamb's, that the 
 gathering took place. But the incident fits 
 in no better with what we know of Hunt 
 than it does with Lamb. However, it seems 
 likely that the following passage describes 
 the event which Procter had in his mind : 
 
 Hunt never gave dinners, but his suppers of 
 cold meat and salad were cheerful and plea- 
 sant; sometimes the cheerfulness (after a "was- 
 sail bowl") soared into noisy merriment. I 
 remember one Christmas or New Year's even- 
 ing, when we sat there till two or three o'clock 
 in the morning, and when the jokes and stories 
 and imitations so overcame me that I was 
 nearly falling off my chair with laughter. 
 This was mainly owing to the comic imitations 
 of Coulson, who was usually so grave a man. 
 We used to refer to him as to an enclycopaedia, 
 so perpetually indeed that Hunt always spoke 
 of him as " The Admirable Coulson." The vis 
 comica left him for the most part in later life, 
 when he became a distinguished lawyer. 
 
 In the ninth volume of the London Maga- 
 zine there is, at page 257, a short story 
 entitled " The Bride of Modern Italy." It 
 
 221
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 is a tale of a young lady who is always 
 passionately in love with her temporary 
 inamorato, but is always ready to exchange 
 him for a new flame. She is in fact in love 
 with love, and not with any particular lover. 
 The story bears the following motto : 
 
 My heart is fixt : 
 This is the sixt. 
 
 Elia. 
 
 As this couplet is not to be found in the 
 known writings of Charles Lamb, the pre- 
 sumption is that the author submitted the 
 story to him in manuscript, and that the 
 lines were written on purpose for the 
 occasion. 
 
 I have found a good many more interest- 
 ing things of various kinds in the pages of 
 the London Magazine ; but as they do not 
 come within the scope of my present subject, 
 I shall not now dwell upon them. However, 
 I will, in conclusion, mention one other 
 rather remarkable discovery which I have 
 made in the course of my examination of the 
 magazine's contents. I have found in it a 
 very considerable quantity of prose and 
 verse of Thomas Hood's which has never 
 
 222
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 before been ascribed to him. These pieces 
 I hope soon to find an opportunity of making 
 known to readers of the present day — for 
 notwithstanding the too great bulk of the 
 already collected writings of the poet and 
 humourist, I believe that the articles I have 
 found are well worth reprinting. One of 
 them I will print here — for I do not doubt 
 that my readers will be pleased to make its 
 acquaintance : 
 
 ODE TO MASTER IZAAK WALTON 
 
 Oh pleasant Old Master Walton ! — 
 The white and sweet Lea river, 
 
 That runneth through meads, 
 
 And 'tween flagged reeds, 
 Babbleth of thee for ever ! 
 
 God rest thee, ah. Gentle Izaak! 
 
 Thou hast cast good lines in the Lea, to 
 Entrap silly fish ; 
 And 'tis now my wish 
 To throw these lines to thee too. 
 
 I have oft tried to be a fisher; 
 And still for the angle sigh now — 
 But my rod is in pickle. 
 My lines are fickle ; 
 And my hook is all my eye now ! 
 223
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 I have taken thy work to the water, 
 And long angled per Piscator : 
 But to fish by the book, 
 In the fishiest brook, 
 I find is against my naiur! 
 
 The Angler is like the poet, — 
 That is, he — nascitiir non fit ! 
 
 My fish has no mouth. 
 
 For the wind of the South, 
 And I find 'mid my maggots not one fit. 
 
 I walk with a reel like a drunkard : 
 
 And toil in my troutless rambles : 
 
 Oh, my gut wears out 
 
 Long before the trout, 
 And my flies make friends with the brambles. 
 
 Oh teach me, sweet Master Walton, — 
 Teach lovers of thine who wish well ! 
 
 To chuck the chin 
 
 Of the chubb, within 
 His deeps: — and in shallows to fish well. 
 
 I never caught more than one pike. 
 
 And that was the longest of fishes; 
 
 But a Serjeant, whose eye 
 
 It caught passing by — 
 Said 'twas one of the third Militia's ! 
 
 God rest thee — oh sweetest Izaak! 
 Thou wert the best of the Angle ; 
 All the river fair. 
 From Lea-bridge to Ware 
 Thou didst love to disentangle. 
 224
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Oh thou wert an honest pilgrim, 
 
 And naught could be sweeter or calmer, — 
 
 Than gently to look 
 
 Up the gadding brook. 
 On the Pilgrim with his brown Palmer !* 
 
 Thy Soul was a gentle creature — 
 And always prepared to die was ; 
 And when her bright 
 Wing took its flight, 
 It no artificial fly was! 
 
 But the worms, I fear me, hail'd thee; 
 
 And to catch thee 'twas their desire once: — 
 
 " Come nibble away, 
 
 Brother brandlings gay. 
 For he lined our bellies with wire once! " 
 
 Yet enough !— Thy book must content me, 
 For skill will not come with the wishing; 
 
 So I'll take to thy lines, 
 
 As the summer shines, — 
 And so, go a-fancy-fishing. 
 
 Farewell, good Master Walton ! 
 
 May Madge sing her verses near thee ! 
 
 And Lea as it speeds 
 
 Through the merry meads. 
 With its watery voice endear thee ! 
 
 I do not think that any one who has even 
 a slight acquaintance with the writings of 
 
 * Master Izaak was not mighty infly-fishinq. In this 
 branch of the art he was tvorsted by Cotton. 
 
 225 P
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Thomas Hood will doubt that these verses 
 must have proceeded from his pen. They 
 have all the characteristics of his style — his 
 metrical facility, his never-failing wealth of 
 odd conceits and images, and, above all, that 
 power of so using the pun as to make it, not 
 a ghastly infliction on the reader's patience^ 
 as it is in the works of most writers who 
 affect it, but a legitimately humorous device. 
 Let those who want further demonstration 
 refer to one of Hood's undoubted poems, 
 entitled "The Angler's Farewell," and I 
 think they will require no further evidence. 
 Perhaps it was because the poem I have just 
 mentioned is very much on the same lines as 
 the "Ode" that the author did not care to 
 republish the latter ; but I am sure that the 
 reader will agree with me that no such 
 reason should stand in the way of the repro- 
 duction of the ingenious and characteristic 
 piece now reprinted. 
 
 226
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 VI 
 
 MORE ABOUT WAINEWRIGHT AND 
 
 LAMB. 
 
 I have in the first chapter of this book 
 given some details about Thomas Griffiths 
 "Wainewright, and some account of his con- 
 nection with Lamb, I have since learned a 
 good many particulars about him that were 
 unknown to me when I first wrote about 
 that man of many aliases. He was, it seems 
 a much more industrious writer, and a much 
 larger contributor to the periodical literature 
 of the time, than has been hitherto supposed. 
 Moreover, he was the author of at least one 
 separate publication. One of his pseudonyms 
 in the London Magazine, as we have seen, 
 was that of ' ' Egomet Bonmot, ' ' I was aware 
 that a book or booklet was in existence which 
 purported to be the work of this same, 
 " Egomet Bonmot " ; but it is so rare that for 
 a long time I searched for it in vain. Yet, 
 
 227
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 •curiously enough, I had all the while a copy 
 in my possession, which I fortunately came 
 upon one day when I was looking for some- 
 thing else. It is so curious a production, 
 and so characteristic of its author, that I 
 think the reader will readily forgive me for 
 dwelling upon it at some length. Its title 
 is as follows : " ' Some Passages ' in the Life, 
 &c., of Egomet Bonmot, Esq, Edited by 
 Mr, Mwaughmaim, and now first pub- 
 lished by Me, London : James Bigg, . , . 
 1825." 
 
 "Mr, Mwaughmaim," it is pretty evident, 
 is the French " Moi-meme " or " myself," 
 On the fly-leaf opposite the title-page there 
 are two mottoes, which profess to be taken 
 from an " Old Play {written yesterday)." In 
 these the author gives us some hints as to the 
 design of his work. He says : — 
 
 — What's here ? Myself and I ? — I and my- 
 self ?— 
 He talks of little but himself— F faith 
 I see it now ; a right broad target this 
 For ridicule : my life upon't he'll hit 
 The very spot sans aim, — for in these days 
 That Butt is all BuU's-eye, 
 
 y^ '^ T^ ^ ^P 
 
 228
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 What ! demand 
 An author's meaning in the book he writes ? — 
 May he not quiz the Egos of his day 
 And shew how they are bom, without the bore 
 Of writing down the text of his discourse ? 
 
 It would seem from these passages that the 
 author wished his readers to look upon his 
 work as a satire upon egotism. It is, how- 
 ever, if a satire at all, a very mild one ; and 
 as it relates chiefly to the author himself it 
 is not to be wondered at that it sometimes 
 seems to resolve itself into a panegyric. 
 Few authors are gifted with an incon- 
 venient amount of modesty — and certainly 
 "Waine Wright was not one of the few. 
 That egotism was the dominant note of his 
 individuality can hardly be doubted ; yet his^ 
 vanity differed a good deal in its manifesta- 
 tions from the ordinary exhibitions of that 
 quality. It does not appear that it ever dis- 
 played itself offensively or intrusively in hig. 
 private life : at all events, none of those wha 
 were personally acquainted with him have 
 noted that it did. He seems, indeed, to have 
 been a very pleasant companion, adapting 
 himself easily and unassumingly to those 
 with whom he came into contact. Nor was 
 
 229
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 his vanity as an author of the usual kind. 
 In no case did he put his own name to his 
 writings, and he used so many aliases that it 
 seemed as though he was anxious to conceal 
 all traces of his literary labours. A love of 
 singularity, as he himself tells us, seems to 
 have been one of the leading motives of 
 his actions. Taking him altogether, his 
 character seems to have been quite unique 
 in its union of diverse and apparently incom- 
 patible qualities. 
 
 The " Egomet Bonmot " booklet has an 
 introduction which gives an account of the 
 supposed author and of his life and death. 
 In this we have, under a slight veil of fiction, 
 "Wainewright's estimate of himself and of his 
 literary productions. Of course it is not to 
 be taken literally, nor without making allow- 
 ance for the writer's natural desire to magnify 
 his achievements. The following quotations 
 comprise the most significant passages in the 
 introduction : — 
 
 My late friend, Mr. Egomet Bonmot, was a 
 gentleman of considerable attainments — he had, 
 besides, humour, sentiment, cleverness, and an 
 original turn of thinking, which made him an 
 agreeable companion. In his boyish days he 
 
 230
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 had a knack of rhyming, which made him a 
 sort of idol among his friends in the town where 
 he was bom, many miles from the metropolis. 
 This, however, did not render him more vain 
 than the occasion warranted ; for though at 
 no period of his Ufe was he, properly speaking, 
 a modest man, yet through many of his early 
 years he was not obviously otherwise. And, 
 indeed, after he came to London, a series of 
 disappointments in his hopes of literary emin- 
 ence — hopes which I think his talents might 
 fairly allow him to indulge — was unable to dis- 
 turb a certain equanimity which then distin- 
 guished him, but which was, in fact, rather the 
 proud silence of self-approval than the hum- 
 bleness of unrepining patience. At length, 
 however, the success which attended some not 
 very meritorious efforts of more noisy self- 
 importance entirely changed his outward bear- 
 ing ; and, for the first time during a close 
 intimacy of five-and-twenty years, I heard 
 him loudly decry the adequacy of critics to 
 pass judgment upon his works. He grew bois- 
 terous in his own praises, and began, oddly 
 enough, to vaunt himself upon his descent 
 from an illustrious ancestry, . . . From the 
 birth of this new feeling he was another man : 
 — he resolved thenceforth to adopt the invin- 
 cible spirit of bounce, and the success which 
 followed this determination appeared amply to 
 
 231
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 justify his now declared opinion that modesty 
 and humility were at best but starving quali- 
 ties. He thought fit to announce his intention 
 openly, apprising the world under his sign- 
 manual that such a " chiel " was " amang 
 them" ; and a hundred works which he after- 
 wards published {anonymously the7i, in order 
 that he might take his full swing), raised their 
 unknown, but not unsuspected, author to the 
 zenith of triumphant popularity. He criticised 
 them himself in the various Magazines, Literary 
 Journals, Newspapers, &c., and they had all the 
 claims to distinction which belong to real merit, 
 superadded to that far surer and more requi- 
 site one of being self-eulogised and most dili- 
 gently and ingeniously bepuffed. His works, 
 I say, were now as much sought for as they 
 had before been neglected, and his authorly 
 popularity rather gained than lost by its 
 being the " found treasure " of a man who 
 chose to possess it per se, without printing his 
 name i in his title-pages. Literary distinction, 
 however, when at last obtained, after the varied 
 struggles of years, falls upon battered and 
 blunted feelings ; the romantic yearnings of 
 youth are sobered down into mere matter of 
 fact ; the mom of life no longer glitters in the 
 Orient sun : the world has laid its paralysing 
 paw upon the acuteness of our sentiments ; an 
 analysing spirit creeps over us ; experience 
 
 232
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 unconsciously incites us to dissect things that ini 
 former years we simply used to worship for 
 their exterior beauty ; the wine of life is drawn 
 and nothing but the lees remain ; an icy hand 
 is laid upon us, and the genial current of the 
 soul is frozen ; many friends, too, to whose 
 hearts our success would have been a cordial,, 
 and in the light of whose countenance we had 
 hoped to see the splendour of our hterary 
 distinction delightfully reflected, are lost — hid 
 perhaps in the grave ; in short, when a man 
 arrives at thirty, there is a crowd of bitters 
 behind him and about him ; and the field for 
 delightful hope to disport in is dwindled to a 
 mere span before him. Thus it was with Bon- 
 mot — his success was a sort of bitter-sweet — 
 and thenceforward the last ingredient was 
 well-nigh overcome by the former, which 
 largely mingled itself in the effusions of his, 
 pen. "Well! no matter — he is now gone to his 
 account — and I may say, like Antony, my heart 
 is " there with Caesar. " I was his bosom friend 
 — to me therefore he was known intus et in cute. 
 I was with him to the last, and never surely 
 was there an occasion in which my unparalleled 
 powers of stenography could be so adequately 
 exercised, as in preserving to mankind his 
 dying words. . . . Like Socrates, he desired, 
 that his latest moments should be spent in in- 
 struction ; and he determined to make " aswan- 
 
 233
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 like end " by delivering what he had to say in 
 rhyme. It is not perhaps material to give my 
 friend's last words an accurate designation, A 
 " dying speech" smacks overmuch of the New- 
 Drop — Instructions they hardly were : there- 
 fore to save further cudgelling of brains, and 
 at the same time to be in fashion, let 
 me call them Confessions — Confessions of an 
 Egotist if you please — Confessions are all the 
 go, and Confessions these certainly were, for 
 they let out many things respecting his feelings 
 and his motives, of which before no one had 
 any conception, except himself and his other 
 self namely^ myself who had all along known 
 what his Confessions showed — that it was the 
 world's disregard which first drove him to 
 centre all in self : — an intimate conviction to 
 which probably might be traced similar en- 
 deavours made (Jiaud passibiis cequis) by others 
 of the confraternity of egotists who lift up their 
 heads in these days, I say confraternity, 
 though, commonly, egotism nowadays has its 
 origin different from Bonmot's — in the want 
 of staple commodity. He " had no brother, 
 was like no brother" — yes — fairly speaking, 
 Bonmot was without a rival. Like my steno- 
 graphy, "none but himself could be his 
 parallel." 
 
 Perhaps it will be as well to say here that 
 
 234
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 it is not possible to reconcile some of the 
 statements which Wainewright makes when 
 writing in the character of Bonmot, with 
 others which he makes when writing over 
 different signatures. Thus the reader will 
 remember that in the " Janus "Weathercock " 
 article from which I quoted so largely in 
 the first chapter, the writer states that he 
 had never " mithorised a line " before he was 
 invited by Scott to contribute to the London 
 Magazine, whereas in these " Confessions " he 
 tells an altogether different story. It would 
 be easy to argue from this and other dis- 
 crepancies that Janus "Weathercock and 
 Egomet Bonmot were two different person- 
 ages, I do not think, however, that there 
 can be any reasonable doubt that they were 
 one and the same. The discrepant state- 
 ments were probably intentionally made 
 with a view of preventing the reader from 
 discovering the real author behind the 
 masks with which he chose to disguise him- 
 self. 
 
 The "Confessions " begin with some lines 
 ■which, if rather hackneyed in idea, are not 
 devoid of poetical feeling, and which ex- 
 hibit considerable skill in versification, 
 
 235
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Few years are past — ah, blissful was the 
 time, — 
 
 When half my earthly happiness was rhyme ; — 
 
 When Hope's fond whispers through my youth- 
 ful lays 
 
 Were like the rustlings of eternal bays ; — 
 
 When for each thought that rose with some- 
 thing in it 
 
 A rhyme was fetched from Twick'nam in a 
 minute ; — 
 
 When youth with truth ; with leisure pleasure 
 blended, 
 
 And every sorrow with to-morrow ended. 
 
 Thrice happy days^o'er whose delightful 
 
 hours 
 Boon Nature strewed her fairest freshest 
 
 flowers — 
 Farewell — farewell — oh, take this heart's fare- 
 well 
 While yet it may on your dear moments 
 
 dwell — 
 Still let me bend a lingering look on you. 
 Bask in the memory of each sunny hue. 
 And thus waft back through years a long, a 
 
 last adieu ! — 
 Oh, if big words were made for thoughts like 
 
 mine, 
 Here the fond muse might swell the pompous 
 
 line, 
 
 236
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Here pour her strains on deeds of other days, 
 The thousand joys, the vanished dreams of 
 
 praise. 
 The rushing memories of times gone by — 
 The inspiring hopes, the young heart's flat- 
 tery — 
 — But hold — what pomp of words — what poet's 
 
 song 
 Speaks like the sigh which struggles with the 
 
 tongue, 
 "When fond remembrance of departed years 
 Melts all our little eloquence to tears ! 
 
 The author then proceeds to tell the story 
 of his youth, which included a great deal of 
 rhyming and a disappointment in love. The 
 latter event caused him to write a satire on 
 the female sex, which, however, when pub- 
 lished, did not sell. Its ill success had such 
 an effect upon him that his power of com- 
 position was lost, and his discouragement 
 even led him to destroy all his manuscripts. 
 
 — At length, with sudden hope to make amends 
 And soothe the Aonian vixens into friends, 
 Behold a hecatomb in flame ascends ! — 
 Odes, Prologues, Songs, Lines on the Ace of 
 
 Spades, 
 Jokes, Sacred Strains for Music, pert Charades, 
 Anacreontics, Hymns, Stanzas on Peace, 
 
 237
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Epigrams, Elegies, Appeals to Greece, 
 
 "War Echoes, Woodland Dreams, the Muse's 
 
 Herse, 
 Address to Milton's Shade, Cassandra's Curse, 
 Pierian Anecdotes, Thalia's Fall, 
 Broad-Grins Travestied — and above them all. 
 Sonnets, by which I fed the hopes of dinners. 
 Were to the flames consigned like other 
 
 sinners. 
 
 That Wainewright did indeed write much 
 verse in his youth, and that, recognising its 
 inferior quality, he consigned most of it to 
 the flames may, I think, be accepted as facts, 
 " Broad-Grins Travestied" appears, however, 
 to have escaped destruction — in part at 
 least — as we shall see later on. 
 
 Inspired with new hopes he next resolved 
 to try his luck in Tragedy : — 
 
 I wrote a play — it failed — in short 'twas 
 damned. 
 
 Here was a glass of bitters ! — yet 'twas very 
 Good — thick — substantial — so I grew quite 
 
 merry. — 
 Merry ? aye, merry — if you smile at that 
 My answer is — you know not what is what. — 
 There is a horrid laugh — a ghastly grin 
 Which brings no ray of sunlight from within — 
 
 238
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 A heartless glee — a desperate merriness 
 Masking the utter wreck of happiness, 
 Which many a wretch indulges in his pride, 
 Fancying that laughter loud his silent pangs 
 can hide. 
 
 His misfortunes, he now thought, entitled 
 
 him to consider himself as 
 
 One 
 Inexpiably sinned against — but why 
 Or wherefore — right or wrongfully, 
 No matter — 'twas an opportunity 
 That tutor'd me how, like a real poet, 
 Not only to be sulky, but to show it. 
 
 Whereupon he followed Lord Byron's ex- 
 ample, and 
 
 Roaming all the astonished world about 
 I turned my heart and bowels inside out. 
 
 To this passage is appended a note, in 
 which, after remarking that this kind of dis- 
 play, though possibly excusable in Lord 
 Byron himself, was not to be endured in his 
 imitators, he adds : "An acquaintance of 
 Bonmot's said, comically enough, that such 
 writers were like men intent upon display- 
 ing what Nature wisely keeps out of sight 
 — bowels, for instance." I think that the 
 
 239
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 acquaintance who said this was very probably 
 Charles Lamb. I believe he makes some- 
 where, in one of his letters, a very similar 
 remark. 
 
 The last passage I have quoted leads up to 
 a clever and spirited attack on the Byronic 
 school of poetry, of which the writer for a 
 time avowed himself a disciple. Presently, 
 however, he grew weary of such affectation, 
 and became a contributor to the better sort 
 of magazines. He adopted a plan experi- 
 ence had taught him — 
 
 To put humilities upon the shelf 
 
 And preach good round opinions of Myself. 
 
 He boasts that — 
 'Twas / Myself XQ.zxz^ Blackwood into fame — 
 
 and the other magazines of the time were 
 equally indebted to him. 
 
 I say for things with or without My name 
 Chastising Baldwin owed me half his fame : 
 Yes, clumsy Northouse and the Monthly {^New) 
 (His of the single gem !) owed me a few 
 Of the most popular of all their hits — 
 In short / furnished all their tittest-bits. — 
 
 240
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Whate'er I wrote was eagerly gulped down^ 
 I-by-self-I was sure to please the town — 
 I was the genius, — I the mighty spell, 
 'Twas I alone that made the pages tell — 
 All those Confessions which transmogrify 
 The pensive public to a priest, were / — 
 The Opiu7n Eater — who was he but I ? 
 And who the nervous Hypochondriac? I — 
 The Gamester, Gull, and Cantab ? — I — I — I ! — 
 I am the vivifier, ne'er surpassed — 
 The life of Blackwood'' s life from first to last — 
 'Tis I alone who've found the northern wights 
 In merum sal for Kit'^s Amhrosian Nights — 
 'Tis I that figure in the examination 
 Touching the Southside youngsters' education — 
 Sir Morgaii's Carols and the famed Chaldee 
 Derive their popularity from Me. 
 — The moment I left Northouse down he fell — 
 And for the Monthly many a page will tell 
 The deeds I did for it, known by-Jthe test 
 Of all that's wisest, virtuosest, discreetest, 
 best. — 
 
 ■ • • « « 
 
 On the whole Baldioin's London was-the best, 
 With more of sterling stuff than all the rest. 
 Though many a reader conning this and that. 
 Would cry cni bono ? eh ? what are you at ? . . . 
 Yet still it kept alive as long as I 
 Transferred the stock of my vitality 
 To give its pages immortality — 
 
 241 2
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 But Baldwin when / left him ceased to thrive, 
 — He lost the honey-maker of his hive ! 
 
 • ■ • • • 
 
 Blackwood has scholars in his motley group 
 Of smart contributors — but how they stoop ! 
 Blackwood is out and out too light — too frisky — 
 And savours (stinks at times) of slang and 
 
 whisky, — 
 Let Blackwood quit mean scandal, and pursue 
 A cleanly course as gentlemen should do. — 
 
 • • • • a 
 
 And as for the — (no longer Baldwin's) — 
 
 London — 
 It runs a desperate chance of being undone. — 
 The Taylor who is now its lord and master 
 Will rue, too late to mend, that worst disaster 
 Of being thought that he's about to fail — 
 — A rise of charge betrays a dwindling sale. 
 What, is he blind, that he should thus be willing 
 To risk existence for another shilling ? — 
 Let him, if he would see his coffers fill, 
 Out-bobadil Auld Reekie's Bobadil, 
 But larger price will never line his till. — 
 
 If double columns were resumed again ; 
 If o'er those double columns first-rate men 
 Poured forth their minds ; and puny cockney 
 
 scribblings 
 ^o more should vex one with their shallow 
 
 dribblings ; 
 
 242
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 If the too ominous supply of leads 
 
 (By which the self-same quantity o'erspreads 
 
 A larger surface) were at once discarded ; 
 
 If no more vulgarisms were interlarded ; — 
 
 If what is meant for humour were not found 
 
 Pilfered from Joe the Miller, — and re-ground ; 
 
 If any way were hit upon to shun 
 
 A show of force as feeble as its fun ; 
 
 If there were something too of proper pride 
 
 That scorned to wince though rivals should 
 
 deride — 
 No baby trials at recrimination, 
 No knucklings-down of meagre imitation, — 
 If the ridiculous high price came down 
 Once more to the sufficient half-a-crown ; 
 Then Taylor's London yet might hope to live — 
 But in its present state I wouldn't give 
 Much for its chance : — the storm's already 
 
 brewing, 
 And three-and-sixpence soon will be its ruin — 
 'Twill die at length the victim of O. P. 
 And thus the end of this attempt will be 
 Still further triumph for " the Ebony." 
 
 Perhaps I have now quoted enough — the 
 reader may think more than enough — of 
 this singular production. The remaining 
 portion of it consists of Bonmot's instruc- 
 tions to Mr. Mwaughmaim as to the pos- 
 
 243
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 thumous publication of his various writings. 
 Bonmot, we are told, died as he had lived, 
 the last words he uttered being "I, I." 
 
 I have not made the above extracts from 
 Bonmot's " Confessions " without an object. 
 The booklet is so rare that the ordinary- 
 reader has no chance of procuring it — and 
 hitherto none of those who have written 
 about its author seem to have known of its 
 existence. About "Wainewright I confess 
 that I feel much curiosity myself ; and I 
 assume, therefore, that my readers will not 
 be uninterested in him. It is true that his 
 verses are of only mediocre quality ; but they 
 at least help us towards a comprehension of 
 the complex personality of their author. 
 They also assist us to trace his contributions 
 to the various periodicals of the time, and 
 have besides some interest as showing us in 
 what light a shrewd and capable observer 
 looked upon the literary movements of the 
 period. 
 
 A few notes are necessary to make some 
 of the passages which I have quoted intelli- 
 gible. Perhaps the allusions which will 
 most puzzle readers of the present day are 
 those to " chastising Baldwin " and " clumsy 
 
 244
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Northouse." Baldwin, as we have seen, was 
 the printer and one of the original pro- 
 prietors of the London Magazine. But there 
 was another London Magazine, which began 
 its career, like Baldwin's, in January 1820, 
 and which came to an end (I believe, but am 
 not certain) in July 1821, This was printed 
 and published at first by Northouse and 
 Gold, and afterwards by Gold alone. Of 
 course, the fact that the two magazines bore 
 the same title was the cause of some con- 
 fusion — to avoid which they used to be 
 distinguished, the one as Baldwin's and the 
 other as Northouse's or Gold's Magazine. 
 "Wainewright, as I believe, and as he tells us 
 himself, was a contributor to Northouse's, 
 as well as to Baldwin's London Magzaine. 
 
 It will not be out of place to introduce 
 here an allusion of Lamb's to "Wainewright 
 which appeared in the London Magazine at 
 the end of his essay on " The Decay of 
 Beggars in the Metropolis." This note has 
 never been reprinted, I believe, in any 
 edition of Lamb's works. It is as follows : — 
 
 N.B. I am glad to see Jamis veering about to 
 the old quarter. I feared he had been rust- 
 bound. 
 
 245
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 C. being asked why he did not like Gold's 
 London as well as ours — it was in poor S.'s 
 time — replied — 
 
 Because there is no Weathercock, 
 
 And that^s the reason why. 
 
 I will take also the present opportunity of 
 introducing a curious allusion of "Waine- 
 wright's to Lamb, which has not hitherto 
 been noticed. It occurs in the course of one 
 of his contributions to the London Magazine^ 
 "The Delicate Intricacies." This is an 
 amusing skit upon the school of novelists 
 of which Ouida is the most distinguished 
 modern representative : indeed, it is the 
 most remarkable anticipative satire with 
 which I am acquainted. It is really curious 
 to note how cleverly "Wainew right parodies 
 the luxuriant descriptive style of the famous 
 lady novelist. The passage relating to Lamb 
 is as follows : — 
 
 The gas was now waning fast ; so were the 
 patrols and watchmen. "With creaks, rumbles, 
 gee-tohtWs, and the smell of matting, cabbages, 
 &c., market-carts slowly progress to The 
 Garden! from the delightful villages of Isle- 
 worth, Twickenham, and Tumham Green. 
 
 246
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Several noticeable men with black silk stock- 
 ings were returning from a high court-plenary 
 of literature and French wines — one might see 
 at a glance that they were famous in puns, 
 poetry, philosophy, and exalted criticism. 
 Briefly, they were the wits of London ! One 
 of them, " soaring aloft in the high region of 
 his fancies, with his garlands and singing robes 
 about him," chaunted, in the ringing emptiness 
 of the streets, ''Diddle, diddle, dumpkins" 
 
 Is it necessary to say that the noticeable 
 men or wits * of London were the contributors 
 to the London Magazine returning from one 
 of the monthly dinners ? or that the chaunter 
 of " Diddle, diddle, dumpkins " was Charles 
 Lamb ? It would be a pity to leave so 
 important a matter in doubt, and therefore 
 I shall take some pains to settle it. That the 
 men in black silk stockings, " famous in 
 puns, poetry, philosophy, and exalted criti- 
 cism," could have been no other than the 
 contributors to the London Magazine is clear ; 
 for who else could they have been ? That 
 point being proved, we may reasonably con- 
 
 * We learn from a letter of Lamb's that John Clare 
 used to refer to those whom he met at the London 
 Magazine dinners or at Lamb's suppers as the wits. 
 
 247
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 elude that Charles Lamb would be amongst 
 them. Still it may be argued that we have 
 no evidence that he was the chaunter of 
 *' Diddle, diddle, dumpkins." But have we 
 not ? It is true that Lamb confessed he had 
 no ear for music, and could hardly dis- 
 tinguish one tune from another. But here, 
 as in so many other cases, I think it was his 
 cue to exaggerate his deficiencies in order to 
 heighten the effect of his humour. That he 
 had little relish for classical music we can 
 w^ell believe ; but that he could appreciate 
 the more popular kinds, and that he had a 
 great admiration for fine singing, can hardly 
 be denied. He says of Braham, in one of 
 his letters to Manning — 
 
 Do you like Braham's singing? The little 
 Jew has bewitched me. 1 follow him like as 
 the boys followed Tom the Piper. He cures 
 me of melancholy as David cured Saul ; but I 
 don't throw stones at him as Saul did at David 
 in payment, I was insensible to music till he 
 gave me a new sense, . . . Braham's singing, 
 when it is impassioned, is finer than Mrs. Sid- 
 dons's or Mr. Kemble's acting ! and when it is 
 not impassioned it is as good as hearing a person 
 of fine sense talking. The brave little Jew ! 
 
 248
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Other passages from his letters might be 
 quoted to show that Lamb was by no means 
 so insensible to the pleasures of music as he 
 has represented himself to be in his 
 " Chapter on Ears," But was he himself 
 a singer? Of course it cannot be claimed 
 for him that he was, in any technical sense 
 of the term, a singer ; but that he did on 
 occasion chaunt a ditty, or, at least, frag- 
 ments of a ditty amongst his friends, seems 
 to be sufficiently proved. I shall presently 
 introduce to the reader's notice an article 
 from a magazine of the time in which 
 Lamb is represented as singing a song for 
 the entertainment of his companions. This 
 may be a mere effort of imagination on the 
 writer's part, and therefore I do not lay too 
 much stress upon that point of evidence. 
 But, as the reader will remember, we have 
 already learned from Thomas Hood that Lamb 
 was capable on occasions of indulging in a 
 chaunt, if only for the purpose of suppressing 
 the outpourings of a bore. "We have, however, 
 still better evidence than this. Most of my 
 readers, I suppose, are acquainted with Hay- 
 don's account of the party at which Lamb be- 
 haved so disrespectfully to the comptroller 
 
 249
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 of stamps ; but I must quote a portion of 
 the story in order to make my argument 
 clear. The comptroller, it will be remem- 
 bered, asked "Wordsworth whether he did 
 not think Milton a great genius — an enquiry 
 which caused Lamb to tell him that he was 
 a silly fellow. Haydon then proceeds : 
 
 After an awful pause the comptroller said, 
 " Don't you think Newton a great genius ? " 
 I could not stand it any longer. Keats put his 
 head into my books, Ritchie squeezed in a 
 laugh, \X/'ordsworth seemed asking himself 
 " "Who is this ? " Lamb got up, and, taking a 
 candle, said, " Sir, will you allow me to look at 
 your phrenological development ?" He then 
 turned his back on the poor man, and at every 
 question of the comptroller he chaunted — 
 
 " Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son John 
 "Went to bed with his breeches on." 
 
 The man in office, finding Wordsworth did 
 not know who he was, said in a spasmodic and 
 half-chuckling anticipation of assured victory, 
 " I have had the honour of some correspondence 
 with you, Mr. Wordsworth." "With me, sir? " 
 said Wordsworth, " not that I remember." 
 " Don't you, sir ? I am a comptroller of 
 stamps." There was a dead silence ; — the 
 
 250
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 comptroller evidently thinking that was enough. 
 "While we were waiting for Wordsworth's reply. 
 Lamb sung out : — 
 
 " Hey diddle diddle, 
 The cat and the fiddle ! " 
 
 " My dear Charles ! " said Wordsworth, — 
 " Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son John," 
 
 chaunted Lamb, and then rising, exclaimed, 
 " Do let me have another look at that gentle- 
 man's organs," Keats and I hurried Lamb 
 into the painting-room, shut the door, and gave 
 way to inextinguishable laughter, Monkhouse 
 followed, and tried to get Lamb away. We 
 went back, but the comptroller was irrecon- 
 cilable. We soothed and smiled and asked 
 him to supper. He stayed, though his dignity 
 was sorely affected. 
 
 Good stories — or rather some good stories- 
 may be told too often, but that, I think, is 
 hardly the case with the above ; and, there- 
 fore, I shall not apologise for once more 
 repeating it. 
 
 Let me return to less debatable matters, 
 and resume my notes on Bonmot's " Confes- 
 sions." These are, as I have said, chiefly 
 
 251
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 valuable because of their biographical and 
 literary interest. How far then can we rely 
 upon them as statements of fact, and not 
 mere exercises of fancy ? It is evident that 
 the author wrote purposely in such a manner 
 as to make it difficult for the reader to dis- 
 cern whether he was writing in jest or in 
 earnest. It is necessary, therefore, to be 
 cautious in drawing conclusions from his 
 statements, but I believe we have in the 
 picture of Bonmot a true and striking deli- 
 neation of "Wainewright's character on its 
 better side, done with a degree of self- 
 knowledge and detachment which was 
 hardly to be expected from him. If vanity 
 consists in an inordinate estimate of one's 
 merits and in blindness to one's defects, 
 then vanity was hardly the dominant feature 
 in "W^ainewright's personality. If, however, 
 we distinguish vanity from egotism, and 
 define the latter as consisting in a continual 
 pre-occupation with a man's self, and an 
 almost complete inability to think of other 
 persons or things except as they relate to 
 himself, then I think we may describe "Waine- 
 wright as a thorough egotist. A vain man, 
 in this sense, is one who is vain even of his 
 
 252
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 failings, while an egotist may be acutely 
 conscious of his own deficiencies. One of the 
 "Weathercock articles in the Loudon Maga- 
 zine begins as follows : 
 
 This will be, in all probability, a short article. 
 For, as I am now sitting in a churchyard 
 seventy-three miles from London, without a 
 single book either in my pocket or portman- 
 teau, I must put my trust for fine phrases in 
 my memory, which is not to be relied on — and 
 in my brains, which are little copious. 
 
 The confession which the author makes here 
 is, I think, one which a merely vain person 
 would never have made. If I read Waine- 
 wright's character aright, it was a sense of 
 the shortcomings of his literary productions 
 which hindered him from acknowledging 
 them. He had, in fact, a keen appreciation of 
 literary excellence as displayed in the works 
 of the old poets and in his great contempora- 
 ries, and he could not help perceiving how in- 
 ferior his own writings were in comparison 
 with theirs. He practically owns this in the 
 " Confessions ; " and since he had set his 
 heart upon the attainment of fame as an 
 author, the knowledge, it cannot be doubted, 
 
 253
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 was the source of much vexation to him. 
 He was thus led to seek, by a display of 
 singularity and assurance, a notoriety which 
 he felt he could not otherwise obtain. He 
 gained his object to some extent, but he 
 did not deceive himself into thinking that 
 his periodical essays, clever as they un- 
 doubtedly were, had in them the elements 
 of enduring worth. 
 
 In the passage already quoted, of which 
 the following lines are a part — 
 
 All those Confessions which transmogrify 
 The pensive public to a priest, were I — 
 The Opium Eater — who was he but I ? 
 And who the nervous Hypochondriac ? — I — 
 The Gamester^ Gtill, and Cantab P — I — I — I ! — 
 
 'Tis I that figure in the examination 
 Touching the Southside youngsters' education, 
 
 the writer, I believe, contrives, under cover 
 of a general satire on egotism, to allude to 
 some of his own contributions to the various 
 magazines of the time. Would any one but 
 the author of " The Memoir of a Hypo- 
 chondriac " himself — which, as the reader 
 will remember, I ascribed to Wainewright 
 before I had seen the Bonmot booklet — 
 
 254
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 have coupled it with the " Opium-Eater " ? 
 De Quincey's work had, in 1825, run through 
 many editions, and was already a classic ; 
 the "Hypochondriac" had been read only 
 by the subscribers to the London Magazine, 
 and had been forgotten, we may be sure, 
 by most of them. The case seems at first 
 sight even stronger with regard to 
 
 the examination 
 Touching the Southside youngsters' education. 
 
 This refers to a dramatic scene, entitled, 
 " Examination of the School of Southside 
 by Mr. W. W.," which appeared in Black- 
 wood's Magazine for December 1824. I 
 suppose the object of ascribing it to " Mr. 
 "W". "W." was to suggest that it was written 
 by "Wordsworth, which it obviously was 
 not, nor can I see that it was ever in- 
 tended as a burlesque upon his style. It is 
 difficult, indeed, to understand why "Waine- 
 wright should allude to so obscure an article 
 unless he was its author. It is not even a 
 piece in which the egotism that Bonmot 
 satirises is at all pronounced. But the fact 
 that it refers to a matter of merely local 
 interest, and that " the Tickler " — one of the 
 
 255
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 leading contributors to Blackwood — is its 
 hero, seem to show that Wainewright could 
 hardly have written it. As to " The Game- 
 ster," " Gull," and " Cantab "—I have not 
 been able to trace any essays in which the 
 first two appear ; but I have found in 
 Blackwood, two chapters of " The Confes- 
 sions of a Cantab," — and this, I suppose, 
 is what "Wainewright alludes to. If he was 
 ever a student at Cambridge, these " Con- 
 fessions " may very well have been written 
 by him ; but I do not find in them any 
 certain indications of his authorship. To 
 sum up the matter, it would seem that while 
 we may rely upon the Bonmot " Confessions " 
 as giving a faithful general view^ of ^Caine- 
 wright in his literary character, we can 
 hardly trust to any particular statement in 
 them. It almost seems as if he must have 
 taken pleasure in mystifying his readers and 
 leading them astray. 
 
 In the " Confessions," Wainewright appears 
 to claim that he was a contributor both to 
 Baldwin'sand Northouse's London Magazines, 
 to the New Monthly Magazine, and to Black- 
 wood. It is certain that he contributed to 
 the first mentioned ; and I think I can show 
 
 256
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 thut he also contributed to Northouse's Maga- 
 zine. "Whether he was a contributor to the 
 New Monthly Magazine I do not know ; but 
 I scarcely think he was. As to Blackwood 
 I think his hand may be traced in certain 
 contributions which bear the signature of 
 "Blaise Fitztravesty." Most of these con- 
 sist of parodies or imitations of the poets of 
 the time.* It may be that I am mistaken in 
 ascribing these papers to "Wainewright, but 
 they are, I think, the only ones in Blackwood 
 of which he could have been the author. Apart 
 from the Bonmot " Confessions," it appears to 
 
 * For the information of those who may be disposed 
 to look up these articles I add a list of them : " A 
 Midsummer Night's Dream," in blank verse, by 
 Blaize Fitztravesty, Esq. (December 1821); "Another 
 Ladleful from the Devil's Punch Bowl " (February 
 1822); "First Notes of an incipient Ballad-Metre- 
 Monger" (July 1822); "Nuptials in Jeopardy'' 
 (December 1822) ; " Nuptials out of Jeopardy " (Jan- 
 uary 1823.) 
 
 I also attribute to Wainewright, though not very 
 positively, two other articles: "The Confessions of 
 an English Glutton " (January 1823); "The Confes- 
 sions of a Cantab " (October and November 1824). 
 
 Neither of the last two items has any distinguishing 
 signature affixed to it. If " The Confessions of an 
 English Glutton " is Wainewright's it is one of his 
 best efforts. The author, in writing it, evidently had 
 in his mind Lamb's " Edax on Appetite," his " Dis- 
 
 257 R
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 be certain that he did contribute some papers 
 to " The Ebony," as he calls it. 
 
 It is in Northouse's London Magazine that I 
 havefound the most curious of "Wainewright's 
 writings — or at least the most curious after 
 the Weathercock articles. These are a 
 series of papers which bear the signatures 
 of " Sam. Quiz " and " Paul Clutterbuck." 
 Let me say at once that though I believe 
 these papers to be Wainewright's I do not 
 contend that they are certainly his. They are 
 very much in his manner, yet not so much 
 so as to put the matter beyond doubt. How- 
 ever, to save circumlocution, I will speak of 
 them henceforth as though there were no 
 question as to his authorship of them. It 
 would indeed be a question of little impor- 
 tance whether he was or was not their 
 author, save for one of them which I shall 
 presently reproduce. 
 
 I give below a list of the papers in North- 
 onsets Magazine which I attribute to "Waine- 
 
 sertation upon Roast Pig," and his " Confessions of 
 a Drunkard," and set himself to imitate or emulate 
 those articles. His picture of the evil effects of glut- 
 tony is a very powerful one, and is not unworthy of 
 being compared with Lamb's delineation of the 
 miseries of the drunkard. 
 
 258
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Wright.* The " Sam. Quiz " articles consist 
 of a series of imitations of the leading authors 
 of the time, including Wordsworth, Cole- 
 ridge, Leigh Hunt, Barry Cornwall, George 
 Colman, Crabbe, and others. Though these 
 are not without cleverness, they are not very 
 successful as parodies of their originals. To 
 attempt to parody Coleridge's " Christabel " 
 is to court certain failure. Of the many who 
 have attempted it none has succeeded — and, 
 it may be confidently predicted, none who 
 attempt it ever will succeed. Nor does " Sam. 
 
 * " Immortality in Embryo," by Samuel Quiz. 
 Three articles, (vol. ii., pp. 39, 151, and 365) ; " A 
 Day at the Mill," by Samuel Quiz. (vol. ii., p. 271); 
 "Prodigious Success of the Dejeune," by Paul 
 Clutterbuck. (vol. iii., p. 52) ; " The Literary Ova- 
 tion ; or, the Row in an Uproar," by Paul Clutterbuck, 
 Esq. (vol, iii., p. 240) ; " The Winter Evening's 
 Fire-side; or Chit-chat and Whisky-toddy with our 
 Contributors " (vol iii., p. 154). 
 
 As regards the last item it is apparently the work of 
 two or three hands, one of whom was " Paul Clutter- 
 buck " or Wainewright. It should be explained also 
 with regard to the " Prodigious success of the 
 Dejeune " that it refers to a periodical of the time, of 
 which Wainewright (supposing him to be " Paul 
 Clutterbuck ") was the editor. 
 
 Besides the articles already mentioned there is one 
 entitled " Country Sketches," on p. 65 of vol. iv., 
 which may have been written by Wainewright. 
 
 259
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Quiz" come nearer to success in his imita- 
 tions of "Wordsworth, Barry Cornwall, or 
 Crabbe. With George Colman, however, — ■ 
 a much easier model — he is more successful. 
 The reader will remember that among the 
 manuscripts which Bonmot says that he com- 
 mitted to the flames was " Broad Grins 
 Travestied " ; but I suspect that the imita- 
 tions of Colman which are given in the "Sam. 
 Quiz " papers, and in "The "NX/'inter-Evening's 
 Fireside" were some of the "Travesties" 
 which were saved from the flames. 
 
 I now come to the article which must 
 excuse me if the reader has felt little interest 
 in the foregoing account of a writer about 
 whom he may not be curious. This is 
 entitled " The Literary Ovation." I need 
 hardly say that it is not reprinted here on 
 account of its merits, but because of its re- 
 ferences to Lamb and Hazlitt, and because 
 of the curious glimpse which it affords us 
 behind the scenes of the literary movements 
 of the times. 
 
 260
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 THE LITERARY OVATION; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE ROW IN AN UPROAR 
 
 By PAUL CLUTTERBUCK, Esq.* late Member 
 of the Dejeune Club. 
 
 * This account of the meeting in Paternoster Row 
 was transmitted to our Office for perusal. It was 
 accepted without hesitation, particularly as the writer, 
 Paul Clutterbuck, affirms that he has every reason to 
 credit the authenticity of the statement, which was 
 given to him by a gentleman who was present at the 
 Ovation. — Ed. 
 
 PROEM. 
 
 Those great men, Messieurs Baldwin, Cradock, and 
 Joy, resolved to give a dinner-party. Invitations sent 
 out forthwith. Day fixed for the Jubilee ; conference 
 between the publishers, whether, as it was a literary 
 party, they should invite Paul Clutterbuck (me) or not 
 — proposal negatived without a division, on the plea 
 of his having taken their name in vain. Paul's con- 
 trite behaviour, his exceeding penitence, his out- 
 rageous desire to see Mister John Scott ; his opinion 
 of that great man ; trusteth that he shall meet him at 
 a jollification in the Temple; anticipations thereof. 
 He wondereth what Mr. John Scott is like, and 
 straightway returneth to his subject. Divers literary 
 characters invited to the dinner; great novelty to 
 many of them. Dinner commenced : Mr. Baldwin in 
 the chair ; fills it as ably as his glass : glass circulates 
 — thousand pities the Magazine does not circulate as 
 well. Paul's great fears for that unhappy publication : 
 
 261
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 waxeth witty thereon ; slily compareth it to a goose ; 
 astonished at his own impudence. John Scott facete, 
 marvellous fact that ; Paul thinketh the great man's 
 valour and wit are on a par, " par nobile fratrum," but 
 feareth for the result of his audacity ; fancieth the 
 great man's passion on reading this ; imageth him 
 walking up and down his garret, " with a short uneasy 
 motion," as Mister Coleridge somewhere observes. 
 Compliments to Mr. John Scott's singular propriety 
 and strict conformity to Christian principles. The 
 ovation begins to be pleasant ; the lecturer groweth 
 funny; not particular in his jokes; called on for a 
 song ; fears expressed for the tympanum of Mr. 
 Cradock's ear : the lecturer declineth, but volun- 
 teereth a recitation, and commenceth a laud on him- 
 self; great applause expressed : description of the 
 lecturer; Paul freeth him from the charge of having 
 pimples; professeth great admiration of him, and 
 fallethfoulof Mister Christopher North for maltreating 
 him; taketh up the cudgels in his behalf, and saith 
 pleasant things about his " Table Talk," a really 
 admirable production. Mister Baldwin humorous; 
 Paul putteth a question to him, and asketh if he 
 remembers seeing him one day with his kinsman, 
 touching and respecting Ovid. Paul letteth the cat 
 out of the bag, and can't help thinking that Mr. B. 
 possessed a pleasing ignorance on the subject ; 
 beggeth Mr. B.'s pardon, and requests him, like his 
 great Editor, to publish a statement of his grievances. 
 Subject continued. — Mr. Lamb called on for a song — • 
 giveth one of the " olden tymes." Mr. BarryCornwall 
 complimented by the company on his exceedingly 
 beautiful poesy. Mr. Baldwin rises to propose a 
 toast — " Success to the London Magazine, and confu- 
 sion to its namesake ; " — ^John Scott hiccupeth a reply ; 
 maketh the Editor of Gold's Magazine smart under 
 
 262
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 his satirical lash. Editor exceeding sensitive; apology 
 for his writing nonsense; justified by the example of 
 John Scott. Company in great good humour; lecturer 
 jocose; Charles Lamb funny; requested to listen to 
 the Editor's song; led as a Lamb to the slaughter. 
 Paul commiserateth his situation. Editor or Propriety 
 John asketh for the accounts of the sale of the maga- 
 zine : his humour dashed by the infinite quantity of 
 unsold copies. Mr. Baldwin weepeth at the intelli- 
 gence; jeereth his Editor, &c. ; and, in a fury of 
 disappointment, quitteth the table. Propriety John's 
 tribulation at his master's harshness ; makes a face as 
 long and unmeaning as the Prospectus of the Delphin 
 Classics, and instantly retires. Party broken up. 
 Reflections on magazines in general. Blackiaood's the 
 best of the day ; Gold's London Magazine the next ; 
 Baldwin's the next, " sed longo intervallo : " aptly 
 likened to a Dutch coal barge. Mynheer Van Scott 
 the Palinurus thereof. Gold's London compared to a 
 light English frigate in full sail, can tack and steer 
 with every wind. Editor John heard to express his 
 private opinion that Gold's was infinitely better than 
 his own work; compliment to his candour, which, 
 with a few " wise saws," moral reflections, and an 
 appropriate apology to the public, concludes the 
 " Paternoster Row Ovation." 
 
 In the year of our Lord 1821, on the 
 third day of February, Messieurs Baldwin, 
 Cradock, and Joy, resolved to give a dinner- 
 party to the contributors to their invaluable 
 periodical. Of the fact we have no doubt, 
 as it was communicated by a gentlemen who 
 
 263
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 was himself present at the ovation, and pro- 
 posed it as a subject on which our Magazine 
 might fructify tenfold. The news was soon 
 dispersed throughout the Row, and great 
 was the astonishment of the natives. Not, 
 however, that a dinner was any rarity in 
 that neighbourhood (for we have every rea- 
 son to suppose that it is not), but that a party 
 should be given in celebration of a losing 
 concern, and the expenses paid out of the 
 profits of the loss. Such, however, was 
 actually the fact ; and when the day of 
 carousal was fixed, men were sent out with 
 the glad tidings of good joy, to all who had 
 ever written, or caused to be written, articles 
 or articlets in the Magazine ; and bipeds 
 were stationed at the gates of the great city, 
 to bid the literati to the feast. 
 
 On the morning of the ovation, a learned 
 conference took place between the triumvi- 
 rate of the firm, touching the propriety of 
 transmitting an invitation to Paul Clutter- 
 buck, late president of the defunct Dejeune 
 Club, as being one in the same line of busi- 
 ness, or, as Horace more aptly says, " Epicuri 
 de grege porcus." This sensible proposal 
 was instantly negatived ; and thus, like the 
 
 264
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Barmecide's acquaintance, impransus Paul 
 was compelled to feast upon visionary dishes 
 in lieu of more solid aliment, make wry 
 mouths over fancied delicacies, stick his 
 knife and fork in the gizzards of imaginary 
 woodcocks, and whet his whistle with a 
 visionary glass of port, sherry, or Madeira. 
 It was alleged in furtherance of the negation, 
 that he had aspersed the credit of the Lon- 
 don Magazine; "if it were so, it were a 
 grievous fault" ; and hinted his suspicions 
 that John Scott was not quite so great a man 
 as he was usually represented ; an opinion 
 which he grounded on certain dainty works, 
 bearing his name and initials ; such as 
 the "Visit to Paris," and the "House of 
 Mourning " ; for the untimely death of which 
 poem, his muse, we understand, has been in 
 uwiirning ever since. The severity of this 
 negation was, however, softened by a pro- 
 mise from the great men of Gath, that he 
 should some time or other be specially in- 
 vited to their domicile. 
 
 But it is ever thus with invitations; 
 They are the gay to-morrows of the mind, 
 Which never come. 
 
 The enormity of Paul's offence now stared 
 
 265
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 him as fully in the face, as Mr, Listen 
 does the pit in Lubin Log. His con- 
 trition was accordingly intense. He had 
 long thought of making a pilgrimage to the 
 Row, in order to see the great men of whom 
 report spoke so highly ; and, like all other 
 pilgrims, bring heaps of good things away 
 with him. Now, however, his intentions 
 were frustrated. Like a pig in swimming, 
 he had cut his own throat, committed suicide 
 on his own wishes, and lost every oppor- 
 tunity of seeing the huge Leviathan of perio- 
 dical writings. This disappointment brought 
 on a slow fever, which was somewhat dimin- 
 ished by a refreshing sleep produced by the 
 delectable article on Byron ; and if this 
 number of our magazine is a bad one, let it 
 be charitably attributed to the backslidings 
 and indisposition of Paul Clutterbuck. 
 
 But stop ! what in the name of Minerva 
 were we saying? We are actually invited 
 to meet the great Hannibal Tough, at a 
 sort of Epithalamium, in the penetralia 
 or Inner Temple of the Sadducees, where 
 he will no doubt wanton, like Samson in 
 his strength, with the pillars of brass sur- 
 rounding him on all sides. " Like as the 
 
 266
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 hart panteth for the water-brooks," even so 
 do we desire to see him. Gracious good- 
 ness, what great things do we expect from 
 him ! Trite apophthegms, brilliant and 
 deep-searching observations, cutting irony, 
 pathetic anecdotes, all tumbling over one 
 another, as they rapidly emerge from the 
 lips of the editorial man of letters, the great 
 intellectual gladiator, who in his last essay 
 on the genius of Byron, has achieved so 
 decisive a victory over common sense and 
 judgment. "Will the reader believe it ? our 
 sensitiveness at these anticipations is truly 
 astonishing. " Vox faucibus haeret," the few 
 hairs that time has yet left upon our heads 
 seem desirous of quitting their place of 
 abode, and we are perpetually imaging to 
 ourselves the appearance of the wise man 
 of Gotham. This, however, is foreign to 
 our purpose ; and though it is justified in 
 some degree by the importance of the sub- 
 ject, we shall skip over the cross-ways and 
 hedges of digression, and jump full tilt into 
 the high-road of our main article. 
 
 An infinity of authors, of all sizes and 
 descriptions, " from slashing Bentley down 
 to piddling Tibbald," some to whom dinner 
 
 267
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 was an agreeable novelty, and some to whom 
 it was none, were bidden to the festival. 
 Grub-street emptied her stores, and de- 
 spatched whole shoals of the ragged fra- 
 ternity : and Paternoster Row wore the 
 resemblance of Venice at the Carnival. The 
 different booksellers were astounded at the 
 unholy intrusion. Messieurs Sherwood, 
 Neely, and Jones, "grinned horrible a 
 ghastly smile," and raved a "whole hour by 
 Shrewsbury clock," at such riotous visita- 
 tions in a spot consecrated in eternal stu- 
 pidity. Indeed we understand that a com- 
 mittee of publishers is to be appointed for the 
 express purpose of searching into precedents 
 for a dinner-party in Paternoster Row ; and as 
 the generality of booksellers are <:/t't^-smrc/;/«^ 
 fellows, we have no doubt that they will find 
 precedents enough to warrant their purposes. 
 With laudable forethought for authors 
 in general, Messieurs Baldwin, Cradock, 
 and Joy, had appointed Thursday (clean 
 shirt day) for the ovation, so that a pleasing 
 show of linen, with a " goodly outside," 
 adorned each corner of the dinner-table. 
 Of the different delicacies we shall say 
 nothing, as we doubt not their intrinsic 
 
 268
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 merit, and their infinite variety of flavour. 
 Indeed it is remarkable how dinners improve 
 as you verge towards the Mansion House, 
 and the civic residences of aldermen. In 
 every other corner of the metropolis they 
 are considered of inferior consequence, but 
 in the city they are the " summum bonum " 
 of life, the only thing worth living for. This 
 culinary improvement commences somewhere 
 about the Row, and passes down Cheapside 
 towards the Mansion House, where it reaches 
 the climax of perfection ; " the force of din- 
 ners can no further go." 
 
 Gentle reader ! once again we beg pardon 
 for our digression : age is garrulous ; and 
 Paul Clutterbuck having attained the reve- 
 rential epoch of threescore years, bating a 
 brace of months, must be allowed some few 
 of the privileges of antiquity. But to con- 
 tinue our narrative : at the conclusion of 
 dinner, Mr. Baldwin was called unanimously 
 to the chair, and under his auspices, " Teu- 
 cro sub duce," the glass circulated with 
 infinitely more rapidity than that unhappy 
 periodical baptised the London Magazine. 
 Our fears indeed for this work are exceed- 
 ing great, "We are apprehensive that it will 
 
 269
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 be consigned " to the tomb of all the Capu- 
 lets," and sleep with its fathers, the blessed 
 London Mag. of the eighteenth century, and 
 that we shall be called on to pronounce 
 its funeral eulogium, Well, well, requiescat 
 in pace ; that it does even now ; and may 
 no unhallowed wight disturb either its own 
 or its readers' slumbers. At present, it 
 waddles with unfeeling perseverance from the 
 press like a goose from the grass market ; and 
 though certainly plethoric in bulk, evinces 
 every symptom of approaching dissolu- 
 tion. Of late these symptoms have visibly 
 augmented. Its size is evidently increased 
 but it is of a dropsical, not of a salubrious 
 nature. It has accordingly been tapped by 
 one or two critical doctors ; and, unlike all 
 dropsical complaints, its body is discovered 
 to be filled with milk and water, its head to 
 be exceedingly weak, and its arteries to 
 want that springy activity which indicates 
 the possesion of health. 
 
 "When the virtues of the Loji. Mag. or 
 Scan. Mag. or whatever else it may be 
 called, had been efficiently discussed, and 
 a few bottles of Mr. Baldwin's best port 
 •(we are told he has excellent wine) had been 
 
 270
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 emptied in laud thereof, Editor John, to 
 the infinite marvel of his kinsfolk and ac- 
 quaintance, waxed excessively facete, a 
 proof that the age of miracles is not alto- 
 gether past, as the success of the Delphin 
 Classics (to whose Editor be all honour and 
 glory, nonsense without end) more particu- 
 larly evinces, "We forget exactly what he 
 is reported to have said, but are told, we 
 can scarcely credit the assertion, that it was 
 something uncommonly brilliant, and dis- 
 armed of its sting by that amiable meekness 
 of disposition which its owner has of late 
 manifested. Heaven forgive our nubilous- 
 ness ! ! The Editor's joke must have been 
 something incredibly facete, if we may judge 
 from the discomposed muscles of the contri- 
 butors ; for it is generally reported, that 
 one who was bargaining for a situation in 
 the Magazine, at fifteen guineas per sheet, 
 was seized with such inveterate symptoms 
 of the most confirmed risibility, that he was 
 taken out in strong hysterics. — N.B. Thiswell- 
 timed laugh procured him his appointment. 
 "When the merriment had partially ceased, 
 
 * 
 
 * The Editor was the last who was in at the death 
 of his own joke. 
 
 271
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 the reserve of the company began to dimi- 
 nish in exact ratio with the diminution of 
 the bottles ; and the Lecturer, who, as every 
 one knows, is not very particular in his 
 jokes, was unanimously called on for a song : 
 this he properly declined, in consideration 
 of Mr. Cradock's left ear, who was seated 
 next to him, but kindly volunteered the re- 
 citation of a Pindaric on himself, a proposal 
 which was accepted with enthusiasm. 
 
 THE LECTURER SINGS. 
 
 Oh! I'm the gallant Lecturer, as all of you do know, 
 Who, with pen and paper, word and deed, make such 
 
 a raree show ; 
 I write and write, from spleen and spite, and when my 
 
 wit is vain, 
 I change the language of the joke and write it down 
 again. 
 
 With my flocci, nauci, nihili, pili, noodle, doodle, 
 Mummery, flummery, mimeny, pimeny, rorum. 
 
 My head, like petty bankers, (I speak it not in 
 
 fun,) 
 Can sign a check for small accounts, but cannot stand 
 
 a run. 
 'Tis ever open, day and night, for customers to 
 
 come. 
 But like the bank whose firm is gone, there's nobody 
 
 at home. 
 
 With my flocci, &c. 
 
 272
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 When first my youthful intellects were running all to 
 
 waste, 
 Some Daemon whispered, (hang him for it,) " Hazlitt, 
 
 have a taste ! " 
 So I got a taste for politics, and to secure the pelf, 
 As I knew the world lov'd prodigies, I wrote upon 
 
 myself. 
 
 With my flocci, &c. 
 
 But, alas! the Reading public have neither sense nor 
 
 taste, 
 For they let my youthful intellect, like poppies, run 
 
 to waste ; 
 And tho' I wrote by day and night, (forgive me while 
 
 I weep,) 
 And never slept a wink myself, my readers fell asleep. 
 
 With my flocci, &c. 
 
 Then I marched up to my publisher in Paternoster 
 
 Row, 
 As Goldsmith says, " remote, unfriended, melancholy, 
 
 slow;" * 
 And slow indeed my volume sold, — more slow, alas 1 
 
 than sure. 
 And hinted if I wrote for cash I always should be 
 
 poor. 
 
 With my flocci, &c. 
 
 In a rage then from the public I demanded restitution. 
 And humbugged them most nobly at the Surrey 
 Institution ; 
 
 * Here the Lecturer was observed to put his hand 
 in his breeches pocket, like a crocodile, and produce 
 a kerchief, "more holy than righteous," wherewith he 
 wiped av/ay the tears which were flowing in torrents 
 from his eyes. 
 
 273 s
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 I talked of poems, tales, and plays, for one delicious 
 
 season, 
 But my lectures, like the Laureate odes, had neither 
 
 rhyme nor reason. 
 
 With my flocci, &c. 
 
 My next book turned on politics, so constant and so 
 
 true, 
 But was gathered to its fathers by the Quarterly 
 
 Review. 
 Old Gifford roared in thunder, like a lion in his lair. 
 And placed me in his pillory, egad ! and fixed me 
 
 there. 
 
 With my flocci, &c. 
 
 Then loud the laugh against me turned, and " deeper, 
 
 deeper still," 
 While the stupid savage grinned at such an instance 
 
 of his skill; 
 He showed me as a specimen, in terms of low abuse, 
 A kind of winged animal — a genus of the goose. 
 
 With my flocci, &c. 
 
 But I lash'd him for his impudence, and gross vitu- 
 peration, 
 
 And call'd him (was I right my friend .') a torment to 
 the nation ; 
 
 And the public took my work so well, they came to 
 me for more, 
 
 And like the Pit at Drury Lane, they bawled aloud, 
 
 " Encore!" 
 
 With my flocci, &c. 
 
 Then curse, for aye, the Edinburgh and Quarterly 
 
 Reviews, 
 One filled my head with flattery, the other with 
 
 abuse, — 
 
 274
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 One call'd me an ingenious hack, the other answered 
 
 "Nay;" 
 And to my sorrow be it said, the "Nays" have got 
 
 the day. 
 
 With my flocci, &c. 
 
 But now, with Mr. Baldwin's leave, I'll end my comic 
 
 song, 
 And like young Rapid in the play, i'U ' damme, push 
 
 along." 
 So here's a toast for all to drink, 'twill cheer the festive 
 
 scene. 
 And give a zest to merriment, 'tis — " Baldwin's 
 
 Magazine." 
 
 With my flocci, &c. 
 
 It reminds me of that image which no modern can 
 
 surpass. 
 For its skull is made of lead, and its face is made of 
 
 brass ; 
 And its head, like a fine Alderman of blessed name, is 
 
 "Wood," 
 And its sense by Syntax privilege is sometimes 
 
 understood. 
 
 With my flocci, nauci, nihili, pili, noodle, doodle, 
 Mummery, flummery, mimeny, pimeny, rorum. 
 
 It is evident from this specimen that the 
 Lecturer is above vulgar prejudices ; but 
 notwithstanding his love for plain speaking 
 and writing, he is a very great man, and, 
 to our certain knowledge, is not the owner 
 of a single pimple, notwithstanding the 
 attack of Blackwood, from which his 
 
 275
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Champion, John Scott, has so bravely de- 
 livered him. His example, indeed, on this 
 occasion, inspired others v^ith unusual bril- 
 liancy ; and Mr. Baldwin was forthwith de- 
 livered of divers good things, a fact of which 
 no one would ever think of accusing him. 
 The mention of this great man reminds us of 
 an interview, which, in the innocence of our 
 hearts, we once ventured to implore from him. 
 Tremblingly, we ascended the stair-case 
 that led to his apartment, and with prodigi- 
 ous veneration made a profound obeisance 
 at his door. The Goliah of literature con- 
 descendingly returned the salute, and gave 
 us certain valuable remarks touching a 
 translation of Ovid, of which we were then 
 about to be delivered. Heaven defend our 
 want of orthodoxy ! but we actually dared 
 to imagine that the first of the triumvirate 
 possessed a pleasing inanity of mind on the 
 subject in discussion. He exhibited, how- 
 ever, all the exterior symptoms of intense 
 intellect. He shook his head, like Lord 
 Burleigh, in the Critic, and evidently with as 
 much success. But, gracious goodness ! we 
 were actually going to hint that his upper 
 story was still to be let, and was very much 
 
 276
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 in want of lodgers ; but we will not, no, we 
 will not broach so infamous a heresy. Suffice 
 it to observe, that, like the patriarch of old, 
 we took up our staff and walked ; impressed 
 in an uncommon degree with a deep admira- 
 tion of the first great man we had ever 
 seen, 
 
 "My Muse, turn from him, turn we to 
 survey " where Mr. Charles Lamb, of antique 
 memory, is tuning his pipes for a stave of 
 the "olden time." The Editor observed that 
 he was pregnant with something great ; and, 
 like a useful midwife, hastened the moment 
 of delivery. He accordingly besought of 
 him one of the songs of "Webster, to which 
 was annexed the necessary clause, that it 
 should be short and sweet ; a request which 
 was cheerfully complied with. 
 
 SONGE TO FANCY, BY GOOD MASTER 
 WEBSTER 
 
 I've oftymes sayde in angry wille, 
 
 I'd do my beste endeavoure 
 To flie thyne odious charmes, but still 
 
 I love thee more than everre. 
 
 I wist not how the deuce it is 
 Thatte thou so long can'st charme me, 
 
 I'm sure there's nothing in thie phiz _ 
 To dazzle or to warm me. 
 277
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Saye, dost thou on a broomstick ryde, 
 
 Withe midnighte incantations, 
 That thus in spite of all mie pryde 
 
 I feel these queer sensations? 
 
 Well, use thie choicest modes, and try 
 
 To please my dying fancy; 
 I'll bid thee once again good bie, 
 
 Oh ! antiquated Nancy ! 
 
 Whene'er I see the rose decaye, 
 
 In spite of friendlie pother, 
 I fling the wrinkled leaves awaie, 
 
 And fondly plucke another. 
 
 Thus like the swift decaying rose. 
 
 Thou, thou art getting older; 
 And I, as you may welle suppose, 
 
 Am consequently colder. 
 
 Thenne, once for alle, a long farewelle 
 
 'Tis time we both shoulde sever: 
 Old age has broke the amorous spelle. 
 
 And I am gone for ever ! 
 
 Ah ! tears, my love ! Oh ! calm thie paine ; 
 
 Let not my errors grieve thee; 
 My wandering hearte returns againe, — 
 
 I cannot, will not leave thee. 
 
 You lov'd me, whenne alone, forlorne, 
 
 I roam'd the wide worlde over, 
 You sooth'd mie soul by anguish tome, 
 
 And never proved a rover. 
 
 When winds were high, and clouds were dark, 
 
 On life's tempestuous ocean. 
 You were the pilot of my bark, 
 
 The heav'n of my devotion. 
 278
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 You sooth'd, you cheer'd me to the laste, 
 
 And well I mighte deceive thee, 
 If meanly reckless of the paste 
 
 I ever dar'd to leave thee. 
 
 No ! spyte of matrimonial strife, 
 
 And spyte of winde and weather. 
 We'll jog along the roade of life, 
 
 And die in peace together. 
 
 The poetry of good Master "W^ebster, 
 which, with all its quaintness of diction, had 
 found so eloquent an advocate in the recita- 
 tion of Charles Lamb, naturally introduced 
 the subject of versification in general ; and 
 Mr. Barry Cornwall was accordingly com- 
 plimented by the company on the beauty of 
 his poetical narratives. By this time the 
 wine had diminished with orthodox celerity, 
 and the company were in spirits for any 
 frolic. The president accordingly rising, as 
 well as his nerves would permit, proposed 
 as a toast, " Success to the London Magazine, 
 and confusion to its namesake." Mark ! 
 reader, we beseech thee, the excessive cruelty 
 of this sentiment, and let thy bowels yearn 
 with compassion towards the sweet inoffen- 
 sive Gentile, that the Philistines have so 
 roundly attacked. Did we deserve this at 
 their hands ! Did we ever, in thought, word, 
 
 279
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 or deed, say aught to the disparagement of 
 the Infidels ? Did we ever accuse the great 
 Captain of the Banditti of being unusually 
 dull in his articles ? Why ! to be sure we 
 thought so. Did we ever tax the triumvirate 
 with their miraculous draught of unsold 
 copies ? No ! we had not the heart to insult 
 their distress ! Did we ever rate their 
 periodical for waxing stupid ? No ! the fact 
 spoke for itself ! But we will not say a word 
 more upon the subject ; injured innocence 
 always meets with champions ; and we are 
 eagerly on the look-out for a liege defender 
 of the faith. Stop ! we are somewhat 
 oblivious ! and were actually doing injustice 
 to ourselves ! In our Dejeune we had the 
 temerity to laud Baldwin to the detriment 
 of Blackwood, and are well aware that the 
 object of our commendation was unusually 
 delighted with the praise. In an ecstacy 
 of rapture he walked or rather flew to 
 the publishers, and pulled the delectable 
 article from the depths of his breeches 
 pocket. It was read by all with trans- 
 port, and many were the sides that were 
 shaken from the mere outrageousness of 
 risibility. 
 
 280
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Reader : Mister Paul Clutterbuck, thus far 
 will I go, and no father ; you are actually 
 digressing again ! 
 
 Paul : Gentle Sir, " pardon our camelion 
 blushes," we " own the soft impeachment." 
 Consider, Sir, the value of patience. Job 
 was a great man ! 
 
 Reader : Right, but he never read your 
 article. But go on with your nonsense — this 
 once I forgive you. 
 
 Paul : Nonsense, indeed ! Well, if one 
 man writes nonsense, why may not another ! 
 are we wrong in following the brilliant ex- 
 ample of Baldwin in that popular commodity? 
 But this is an episode : to return to our 
 topic ; the conversation of the company, 
 that had commenced in whispers, was now 
 elevated to a ululation, or species of the 
 howl ; and the Editor, cheered by the un- 
 wonted merriment of the party, shouted out 
 a proposition for the Magazine accounts. 
 They were forthwith brought in, by the 
 superintendent of the warehouse, who intro- 
 duced an infinite catalogue of unsold copies, 
 with a phiz of proportionate longinquity. 
 An immediate consternation pervaded the 
 whole of the party; and Mr. Baldwin, 
 
 281
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 " with three paces and a stride," vanished 
 like a ghost from the scene of conviviality. 
 He was followed at a respectful distance by 
 the redoubted Editor, whose absence com- 
 pleted the scene of confusion, and produced 
 the dispersion of the company. 
 
 The narrative of this momentous ovation 
 in honour of that " Flash in the Pan," the 
 Flash Magazine, has brought us to the con- 
 templation of Magazines in general. Black- 
 wood is evidently the best of the day ; and 
 were it not for his excessive egotism, would 
 be, like Randall, a perfect nonpareil in his 
 profession. But he is never so happy as 
 when making faces at others, and compli- 
 menting, " with an ideot self-complacency," 
 his own figure in print ; and perpetually 
 calls to mind, with a trifling alteration, the 
 beautiful apostrophe of Mirandola : 
 
 " My own sweet self — Oh ! my dear, peerless 
 North, 
 By the stout sums I get as Editor, 
 I love you better, oh ! far better than 
 Author was ever lov'd. There's not an hour 
 Of day or dreaming night but I am with thee ; 
 There's not a page, but speaks of thee, my self, 
 And not a head that dozes o'er thy book, 
 But in its very dozing proves the force 
 Of thee, my North, to thy North countrymen." 
 
 282
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 In spite, however, of such trifling draw- 
 backs on his popularity, Blackwood, or his 
 editor, Christopher North, Esq., is a writer 
 of infinite merit. He has a ready fund of 
 wit, humour, and whimsicality, which not 
 even the great Egomet Bon-mot himself 
 could attain, and fires away the small shot 
 and cannon balls of his satire with unrivalled 
 effect. The other engineers in the literary 
 corps were incensed at such behaviour ; and 
 accordingly an awkward squad of authors, 
 headed by the redoubted Johannes Scott 
 ipse, brought a huge cannon into the field of 
 action, and the " Captain bold in Halifax," 
 was the first to fire off a ten-pounder of his 
 own moulding. This, as might be expected, 
 failed of its mark, and the enemy is now as 
 triumphant as ever. The roar of the cannon, 
 however, served to frighten him a little at 
 first, and it absolutely escaped his memory 
 that the noise might probably terminate in 
 smoke. Impressed with these notions, as 
 also with a due sense of the adage — 
 
 " He who fights and runs away, 
 MayHve to fight another day," 
 
 he girt up his loins and fled, while his sturdy 
 
 283
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 antagonist smote him as he retired with lusty 
 and triumphant repercussions. "What a try- 
 ing time it must have been for Minerva and 
 the Muses, when these two great men sought 
 "the field of Mars." A bulletin was des- 
 patched every half hour to Parnassus, noti- 
 fying the safety of the combatants ; and 
 Apollo, when he rose the next morning, ran 
 a la deshabille to Baldwin's, to be assured of 
 the salvation of his favorite children. Minerva 
 also sent her owl to enquire after their 
 health, and that mortals might be equally 
 certified of their convalescence, a printed 
 notification of their valour (the principal 
 achievements being duly marked in italics) 
 was sent round to the different tradesmen of 
 the metropolis. At our excellent friend 
 Hardham's, we saw the second statement 
 introduced for the first time to the titillating 
 embraces of an ounce of snuff, and an old 
 Irish woman who purchased the two-fold 
 treasures seemed regularly up to snuff ; for 
 she observed with a pleasing elevation of the 
 nose, that " considering the general posture of 
 affairs, the statement was not to be sneezed 
 at." 
 
 "Well, then, we have agreed that Black- 
 
 284
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 wood is the best Magazine of the day ; but 
 what shall we say of thee, oh ! thou Dutch 
 Burgomaster of literature, Baldwin's Maga- 
 zine ! Say? "Why as Horace said of 
 Maevius, that "Boeotum in crasso jurares 
 aere natum." But there are really some 
 admirable articles in the work — some re- 
 deeming touches of genius, whereat our 
 astonishment is excessive ; not that they 
 are good, but that they choose to reside in 
 so bad a neighbourhood : 
 
 " The things we know are neither rich nor rare, 
 But wonder how the devil they got there." 
 
 Some most delectable medical articles ap- 
 peared the other day in Baldwin, supposed 
 to be indited by one of the faculty. To be 
 sure there was amazing faculty displayed 
 therein, but unluckily the positions were all 
 self-evident. They were at once our " bane 
 and antidote " ; for they irritated us first, 
 and then sent us to sleep by way of recom- 
 pense. 
 
 But, gentle reader ! to mount at once the 
 stilts of metaphor, hast thou ever seen ships 
 "floating on the briny wave?" If thou 
 hast, seat thyself composedly in thy parlour ; 
 
 285
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 let thine imagination run riot, and make an 
 ocean of thine own fancy. Hah! it is already 
 done. Thou hast got the ocean ready at 
 command, and be it ours to diversify it 
 with objects. We will be the showmen of 
 thine imagination, the purveyors to the newly- 
 painted Panorama of thy fancy ; and if thou 
 wilt take a telescope in thine hand, " thou 
 shalt see what thou shalt see ! " The mighty 
 ocean before you is eternity ; its billows 
 swell proudly to the skies ; the little barks 
 that flit like spectres across its tides, are 
 sailing onward to the haven of immortal 
 fame ; and the winds that rave and bluster 
 along the billows, are the breezes of popular 
 opinion. Yon Dutch hulk that you see beat- 
 ing at distance to- wind ward, with her heavy 
 sails flapping idly in the breeze, and her 
 ponderous form wallowing about like a 
 porpoise in the waters, is Baldwin'' s Magazine 
 a newly-built Batavian brig, commanded by 
 one Mynheer Van Scott, the Palinurus and 
 Captain of the hulk. See how she flounders 
 across the billows ! Her mate's name is 
 " Flocci, Nauci, Nihili," who is voyaging 
 onward to the shores of immortality. Now, 
 turn thee to west, and behold with uplifted 
 
 286
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 eyes that beautiful little frigate in the dis- 
 tance. She is nearing gracefully to the sight, 
 and moves along the waters like a thing of 
 heaven. Her sails are full, and she actually 
 veers vrithin two points of the wind of 
 popular favour. Hah ! she is already in 
 sight of the Dutch brig ! She tacks — she 
 changes her course, and passes with a side- 
 wind to leeward. Her name is GolcVs Loudon 
 Magazine, and she is replete with passengers 
 for immortality. 
 
 But, hark ! the hollow thunder is howling 
 along the murky arch of heaven ! and the 
 tempest already commences. The wind 
 blusters across the wave, and seems to sing 
 a death-dirge to the ill-fated mariners. The 
 Dutch brig is in distress ; she fires her signal- 
 guns ; and, as a last resource, throws out her 
 most useless lumber. Ten thousand copies 
 of her Magazine are flung overboard, for the 
 fish to peruse at their leisure, and still she is 
 foundering in the deep. The frigate, too, is 
 in danger ; but as there is less peculiarity in 
 her figure, she braves the tempest with 
 greater probability of safety. It is too late ! 
 the Dutch hulk is lost ; she has gone down 
 to see the wonders of the deep : and the 
 
 287
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 frigate, though terribly shattered, has reached 
 the expected haven. 
 
 But our simile is at last concluded, and 
 we must descend from the sublimities of 
 metaphor, to the level of common sense. We 
 have already written too tedious an article, 
 and the morning is almost dawning in at the 
 casement of our window. We commenced 
 our account of the ovation at the witching 
 hour of twelve, and the somnolent watchman 
 is already drawling out past four o'clock. 
 We have wasted then at least five good 
 hours, and as many sheets of paper ; and, 
 for aught we know, instead of making others 
 laugh, may be laughed at ourselves. This, 
 among others, is the privilege of an author ; 
 of one who wears himself out in the service 
 of the public, and meets in return with the 
 contempt of all. While others are passing 
 the night in healthful slumbers, he is reading 
 proofs by the light of a sleepy candle ; (proofs 
 at once of his industry and his vocation ;) 
 and instead of enjoying the refreshment that 
 nature has prescribed, is correcting the press 
 at midnight, with the rushlight of a Printer's 
 Devil ; and thus, without a metaphor, may 
 be said " to hold a candle to the Devil." As 
 
 288
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 for ourselves, we commenced this article ia 
 excellent spirits, but have flagged most woe- 
 fully towards the conclusion. Our cheerful- 
 ness is gone — the sting of our vocation is 
 deeply fixed on our mind, and a conscious- 
 ness of mediocrity withholds the cheering 
 probability of eventual success. To the 
 public we must apologise for having so long 
 detained them ; and with this expression of 
 our intense contrition, shall take the liberty 
 of concluding the article. 
 
 There are some points in the foregoing 
 article which seem to need elucidation. It 
 would seem at first sight, from some pas- 
 sages in it, that it could hardly have been 
 written by ^X/■ainewright. It is true that Lamb 
 is treated in it (as he always was by "Waine- 
 wright) very sympathetically, but on the other 
 hand, the writer is very satirical at the 
 expense of Scott and Hazlitt, for both of 
 whom "Wainewright elsewhere expresses 
 much admiration. But, as the reader will 
 remember, Scott, after encouraging "Waine- 
 wright to contribute to the London Magazine, 
 began, after a time " to rap me on the head, 
 
 289 T
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 as one sees a cat deal with an elderly 
 kitten which retaineth its lacteal propensi- 
 ties over due season." Perhaps this was 
 done because Baldwin, the leading proprietor 
 of the magazine, had objected to Waine- 
 wright's contributions. If this was so it 
 would account for the epithet " Chastising 
 Baldwin" in Bonmot's "Confessions," and 
 for the various sarcastic remarks as to pub- 
 lisher and editor in the " The Literary 
 Ovation." Hazlitt also had had a slight dis- 
 agreement with Wainewright on a point of 
 criticism with regard to the stage ; and this 
 may account for the attack upon him.* 
 
 " The Literary Ovation" appeared in the 
 number of Northoitse's Magazine for March 
 1821. Scott was then dead, having fallen in 
 the duel with Christie. It must, therefore, 
 have seemed to the readers of the "Ovation" 
 a very heartless thing to jest about him, as 
 ''Paul Clutterbuck" does. But there is an 
 editorial note in the magazine which explains 
 that the article was written some time before 
 Scott's death, and was indeed in print before 
 that event occurred. 
 
 * See Hazlitt's essay "On Vulgarity and Affect- 
 ation." 
 
 290
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 It is curious that the song which Lamb is 
 represented as singing or reciting — it is not 
 quite clear which — should be attributed to 
 so very unlikely an author as Webster. What 
 makes it more curious is the fact that the 
 same song — only differing in a few unimpor- 
 tant particulars — had been already published 
 in Northoiise's Magazine as one of " Sam. 
 Quiz's " imitations of George Colman. As a 
 parody of the style of the author of " Broad 
 Grins " the verses might pass muster ; but 
 assuredly they bear no resemblance to any- 
 thing that John ^X/'ebster did write or ever 
 could have written. 
 
 As to the " Pindaric," which Haziitt is 
 represented as reciting, it is mainly a con- 
 densation of the malicious attacks upon him 
 which were constantly appearing at the time 
 in Blackwood's Magazine. Any stick was 
 then good enough with which to belabour 
 Haziitt ; and the " Pindaric " was duly re- 
 produced in the pages of " The Ebony." * 
 
 * In Hazlitt's essay "On the qualifications necessary 
 to success in life," there is a passage which I am in- 
 clined to think refers to Wainewright. It is as follows : 
 
 " I never knew a man of genius a coxcomb in 
 dress," said a man of genius, and a sloven in 
 291
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 dress. I do know a man of genius who is a cox- 
 comb in his dress and in everything else. 
 
 It may seem strange that Hazlitt should style Waine- 
 wright a man of genius ; and it needs an effort to 
 conceive why he should have thought him such. But 
 it must be remembered that, though he had no sub- 
 stantial claim to such an honour, he had a good many 
 showy accomplishments, which might easily mislead 
 those who knew him into a much too exalted estimate 
 of his abilities. He was an excellent talker, an artist 
 of some pretensions, and (as we have seen) a writer of 
 much cleverness. Even Lamb thought and said 
 that his prose was "capital." These reasons, I am 
 willing to own, would weigh lightly enough if it were 
 possible to think of any other personage of the time 
 who would answer to Hazlitt's description: but, so far 
 as I can tell, there was no one else whom Hazlitt 
 could then have had in his mind. A few years later 
 there were two distinguished men whom Hazlitt's 
 description would have fitted — namely, the authors 
 of " Pelham " and "Vivian Grey"; but neither of 
 them in 1821 had become known to the public. 
 
 It is perhaps worth while to mention that Waine- 
 wright was the editor of the reprint of Marlowe's and 
 Chapman's " Hero and Leander," which formed the 
 eighth volume of the series of " Select Early English 
 Poets," which was brought out under the super- 
 intendence of the Shakesperean scholar, S. W. Singer, 
 in 1817-21. My friend, Mr. Drury, has a copy of the 
 book just mentioned, the dedication of which has the 
 name of Wainewright written below it. This dedica- 
 tion is " To the greatest genius born since the 
 glorious day of Michel-Agnolo, Henry Fuseli," and 
 is alone sufficient to identify the dedicator. There is 
 
 292
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 also an introduction of 66 pages, which is certainly 
 by Wainewright, and which is sufficient to prove 
 that he had a very good knowledge of, and a 
 real appreciation of the Elizabethan poets and 
 dramatists. 
 
 293
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 VII 
 
 GLEANINGS FROM THE "MONTHLY 
 REPOSITORY." 
 
 The Monthly Repository was originally started 
 as an organ of the Unitarians, and was 
 at first conducted mainly on sectarian 
 lines. Its circulation was always very 
 limited, and its influence consequently was 
 small. About 1830, however, an effort was 
 made to give it a more generally interesting 
 character. Its editorship was entrusted to 
 "William Johnson Fox, then well-known as a 
 fine orator, a radical reformer, and the 
 popular preacher of South Place Chapel, 
 Finsbury, where his memory is still held in 
 great honour. Under his management the 
 Repository became a very readable and well- 
 written magazine. John Mill, Ebenezer 
 Elliott, R. H, Home, Thomas ^O^ade, and 
 C. R. Pemberton — the latter an actor, elo- 
 cutionist, and writer, whose " Autobiography 
 of Pel. Verjuice" ought to be better known 
 
 294
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 than it now is — were among its contributors, 
 and helped to give it a special impress of 
 earnestness and thoughtfulness. The editor 
 was perhaps the first — or was at any rate 
 one of the first — to appreciate adequately 
 the genius of Robert Browning, and to 
 express publicly his admiration for the great 
 powers which he displayed in his " Para- 
 celsus." Notwithstanding the energy with 
 which the magazine was conducted by 
 Mr. Fox, it failed to secure a sufficent cir- 
 culation ; and in 1836 " Orion " Home 
 became its new editor. He, too, failed to 
 render it attractive to the reading public of 
 the time, and gave place in his turn to Leigh 
 Hunt. The latter edited it from July 1837 
 to March 1838 ; but though he put much of 
 his own best work into it, and had the assis- 
 tance of "NX/". S. Landor, G. H. Lewes, and 
 other famous writers, he, too, failed to make 
 it a success, and it ceased to appear after 
 the last-mentioned date. 
 
 In the volume of the Repository for 1835 
 I have found several articles relating to 
 Charles Lamb which seem to have escaped 
 the notice of all who have hitherto written 
 about him. These are all of much interest, 
 
 295
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 as the reader will, I think, presently ac- 
 knowledge. The longest and perhaps most 
 valuable of them is the following : 
 
 AN EVENING ^ITH CHARLES LAMB 
 AND COLERIDGE. 
 
 It is a good thing early to teach children 
 a veneration for those above them ; above 
 them not by the possession of derived 
 honours, whether of rank or wealth, but of 
 some inherent quality, developed in corre- 
 sponding action, either of a moral or intellec- 
 tual nature. It gives a beyond to the life of 
 a child ; it assists in promoting that onward 
 and upward tending which is the soul of 
 progression. And although, too often, in the 
 warmth of the heart's religion, it may offer 
 up incense at an unworthy shrine, — although 
 the idol may fail upon nearer communion, 
 and the deified man or woman be found but 
 mortal, — yet it still retains its faith, not to be 
 wasted in fruitless disappointment, but to 
 be cherished, enriched, and preserved — a 
 precious offering, awaiting the advent of a 
 worthier object to whom it may be dedicated. 
 This feeling of veneration, early cultivated, 
 
 296
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 has a rich value in elevating the mind, and 
 redeeming it from the bondage of that con- 
 ceit of self which is a great stumbling-block 
 to improvement ; and beyond that, may be 
 made a means of procuring some of the best 
 and happiest sensations that mere recipiency 
 can bring. It adds a charm to reality 
 beyond itself ; it prepares the way for that 
 reality till it becomes reality better worth 
 having through its influence. How often 
 has this been proved ! How often, when a 
 name has been mentioned that has signalised 
 itself either as poet, patriot, actor, artist, or 
 philanthropist, it has seemed to create a purer 
 atmosphere around, and redeemed many a 
 moment from the commonplace routine of 
 mere matter-of-fact existence. To catch a 
 glimpse of any one of these deified portions 
 of humanity in the street has been sufficient 
 to make the heart beat with doubled motion, 
 and many a time has served to refresh the 
 tired feet and send them on their way re- 
 joicing. And when Fortune has been so 
 dear a friend as to bring the chance of seeing 
 them face to face, — of hearing them speak, 
 perchance, — of having a word or look that 
 one might appropriate (selfish this, but so it 
 
 297
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 has been) — the head has " grown dizzy at the 
 thought," and has revelled in anticipation as 
 blessed as must have been that of an ancient 
 mythologist at the thought of a banquet with 
 the gods. It was during a worshipful time 
 like this, upon a bright, sunshiny spring 
 morning, worthy such an announcement, 
 that a friend said, " Come to me next Tues- 
 day, I am going to Charles Lamb's — Cole- 
 ridge is to be there — and you shall go with 
 me." My heart was on its knees the next 
 minute, and for the two or three intervening 
 days I trod on air ; I lived in a dream of 
 some coming good, at times mingled with the 
 fear lest it should never arrive. It was not 
 to see these objects of worship in a crowd, 
 where I might, perchance, hear a word, or 
 catch a glimpse, as one does at the prime 
 picture of an exhibition, between the chinks 
 of people's bodies, but to see them for hours 
 uninterruptedly ; to see them in the cha- 
 racter of friends to each other, when there 
 would be no influence of the world upon 
 them ; to watch them, listen to them, with- 
 out losing look or word : to see Coleridge 
 with the " Charles " of his sonnets, and the 
 " Mary " of his songs ; to fill one's ears with 
 
 298
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 the heart's talk of two poets, so much the 
 purer for its being uncontaminated by the 
 desire for fame. The time came nearer and 
 nearer, and at last the very day, and I called 
 for my kind pleasure purveyor, and we 
 walked together to the well-remembered 
 quaint-looking house by the canal, which had 
 seen so many worthy of note pass along its 
 banks, and, alas for the absent, one walk 
 into itself instead, — one of the generation 
 who, in their moods of abstraction, " know 
 not their right hand from their left," nor un- 
 stable water from terra fmnd. Rap at the 
 door, with the heart beating quite as strongly ; 
 open — in — speaking in a whisper as if we had 
 entered a cathedral. How difficult is it to 
 give a faithful record of past impressions ! 
 Since those days, " old things have passed 
 away, and all things are become new." I 
 am not the same I that I was then, and the 
 two I's encounter on the way and stare at 
 one another in strange bewilderment. It is 
 not with the facts themselves, but with the 
 inferences drawn from those facts, that 
 change has been so busy. How he came, or 
 when he came, or whether they were there 
 when we entered, is all forgotten ; but I have 
 
 299
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 them distinctly before me as if it were 
 yesterday. Coleridge, with his clear, calm 
 blue eyes and expansive forehead, — his 
 sweet, child-like, unruffled expression of 
 face, — his painful voice, which, in spite of 
 all the beauties and treasures it was the 
 means of bringing to you, had yet such an 
 expression in its tone of long suffering and 
 patient endurance as at first to prevent the 
 sensation excited by his extraordinary power 
 of conversation being one of perfect enjoy- 
 ment. I had heard much of this power, but 
 no description, however vivid, could give an 
 idea of the uninterrupted outpouring of 
 poetry in the spoken prose that streamed 
 from his lips. It was a realisation of the 
 fairy tale of the enchanted child ; he never 
 opened his mouth but out came a precious 
 gem, a pearl beyond all price, which all 
 around gathered up to hoard in the cabinet 
 of their memories. His figure was tall and 
 somewhat inclined to corpulency ; its ex- 
 pression was, like that of his voice, one of 
 suffering borne long and patiently. There 
 was a certain air of dissatisfaction — no, un- 
 satisfiedness — (how different are the two !) — 
 which set the mind busily to work to dis- 
 
 300
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 cover why, with all the choice gifts with 
 which genius had blessed him, he should not 
 be entirely happy. The mystery has been 
 since unriddled ; he had never known the 
 reality of love ; he had dreamt of it in his 
 poems, but while seeking to make his depen- 
 dence upon it in his own existence, it had 
 failed him. He was a slave to the laws 
 which doom a creature, who has mated 
 mistakenly, either to live for ever in joyless 
 companionship, or to live a solitary in the 
 depths of his heart's affections, without hope 
 of possessing that one sympathy which is 
 essential to the development of man's noblest, 
 best, and most happiness-giving attributes. 
 There was the secret of the painful voice 
 and of the suffering form ; and there, too, 
 was the secret of his recourse to the dram of 
 opium, that hypocritical thing which pretends 
 to relieve the suffering which it eventually 
 aggravates. 
 
 The character of Charles Lamb's person 
 was in total contrast to that of Coleridge. 
 His strongly marked, deeply lined face, fur- 
 rowed more by feeling than age, like an 
 engraving by Blake, where every line told 
 its separate story, or like a finely chiselled 
 
 301
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 head done by some master in marble, where 
 every touch of the chisel marked some new 
 attribute. Yet withal there was so much 
 sweetness and playfulness lurking about 
 the corners of the mouth, that it gave to the 
 face the extraordinary character of flexible 
 granite. His figure was small even to spare- 
 ness. It was as if the soul within, in its 
 constant restless activity, had worn the body 
 to its smallest possibility of existence. There 
 was an equal amount of difference in his 
 conversation from that of Coleridge, as there 
 was in his person. It was not one uninter- 
 rupted flow, but a periodical production of 
 sentences, short, telling, full of wit, philo- 
 sophy, at times slightly caustic, though that 
 is too strong a word for satire which was of 
 the most good-natured kind. There was 
 another essential point of difference. In 
 Coleridge might be detected a certain con- 
 sciousness of being listened to, and at times 
 an evident getting up of phrases, a habit 
 almost impossible to be avoided in a 
 practised conversationalist. In Charles 
 Lamb there was a perfect absence of this ; 
 all that he said was choice in its humour, 
 true in its philosophy ; but the racy fresh- 
 
 302
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 ness, that was like an atmosphere of country 
 air about it, was better than all ; the perfect 
 simplicity, absence of all conceit, child-like 
 enjoyment of his own wit, and the sweetness 
 and benevolence that played about the 
 rugged face, gave to it a charm in no way 
 inferior to the poetical enjoyment derived 
 from the more popular conversation of his 
 friend. Another difference might be ob- 
 served ; that Coleridge's metaphysics seemed 
 based in the study of his own individual 
 nature more than the nature of others, 
 while Charles Lamb seemed not for a 
 moment to rest on self, but to throw his 
 whole soul into the nature of circumstances 
 and things around him. These differences 
 served only to heighten the enjoyment of 
 witnessing the long-enduring genuine friend- 
 ship existing between the two, — the three 
 (for why should "Mary" be excluded?) — 
 wrought out of mingling sympathies and 
 felicitous varieties. In Charles Lamb, as in 
 Coleridge, at times there was a melancholy 
 in the face which partook of the nature of 
 his individual character. It was not dis- 
 satisfaction ; it was not gloom : but it seemed 
 to say that he had had more affection, more 
 
 303
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 gushing tenderness of feeling, than he had 
 met with objects on whom to expend it. His 
 "Dream Children"* is sufficient proof of 
 this. Had he married his " Alice," had they 
 been realities of little (the pun is irresistible) 
 Lambs playing about him, this might not 
 have been. How he would have joked with 
 them, laughed with them, delighted to watch 
 them for the sake of the thousand beauties 
 he would have discovered in daily develope- 
 ment ; though much more that they were 
 the children of her whom he loved, trans- 
 mitters of her loveliness and worth, so many 
 receptacles of her soul, which they would 
 bear down as a blessing to posterity, to give 
 to others who should come after him the like 
 joy which she had bestowed upon him. But 
 then what would the world have done for 
 want of his "Elia," for would he not have 
 been engrossed with the " cares of a family," 
 or with the sense of his own enjoyment ? 
 Assuredly not ; they would have stimulated 
 him to greater literary exertions, and we 
 should have had such stories of happy love, 
 such descriptions of summer gambols in the 
 green wood and winter frolickings by the 
 
 * One of the papers of " Elia." 
 304
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 fire-side, Midsummer merry-makings and 
 Christmas carollings, as would have made a 
 gladsome echo through the world, and have 
 taught it a lesson of which it is yet so 
 ignorant, the nature and ministry of true 
 and pure and devoted love. But what 
 would have become of the following letter, 
 with which we have been favoured, and 
 which goes to prove that he was not all 
 alone in the world — in his world, that is to 
 say? It was written to a friend who had 
 sent him a copy of the old romance 
 
 Astraea : — " Dear C . Your books are 
 
 as the gushing streams in a desert. . . . 
 ' Rank and Talent ' you shall have, when 
 
 Mrs. M has done with 'em. Mary likes 
 
 Mrs. Bedinfield much. For me I read 
 nothing but Astrasa ; it has turned my 
 brain. I go about with a switch turned 
 up at the end for a crook ; and, Lambs 
 being too old, the butcher tells me, my cat 
 follows me in a green riband. Becky * and 
 her cousin are getting pastoral dresses, and 
 then we shall all four go about Arcadising, 
 ' O cruel shepherdess ! inconstant yet fair, 
 and more inconstant for being fair ! ' Her 
 * The servant. 
 
 305 u
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 gold ringlets fell in a disorder superior to 
 order ! Come and join us, I am called the 
 black shepherd. You shall be C — with 
 a tuft." — And what would have become of 
 Mary and her pseudonyme budget, and 
 where would have been the indivisible 
 brother and sisterhood, the heart and home 
 sharing they had together their whole lives 
 through, the strong affection which defied 
 all change of time or circumstance, — all, 
 save the power of the great enemy who has 
 now separated them ? "Was he not cruel in 
 so doing ? ^)(/'ould it not have been mercy 
 to have made them sharers in death as they 
 had been in life ? to have made them go 
 hand in hand to their last quiet home 
 together ? 
 
 Coleridge, on the evening in question, 
 spoke of death with fear ; not from the 
 dread of punishment, not from the shrink- 
 ing from physical pain, but he said he had 
 a horror lest, after the attempt to "shuffle 
 off this mortal coil," he should yet "be 
 thrown back upon himself." Charles Lamb 
 kept silence, and looked sceptical ; and, after 
 a pause, said suddenly, " One of the things 
 that made me question the particular inspira- 
 
 306
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 tion they ascribed to Jesus Christ was his 
 ignorance of the character of Judas Iscariot. 
 "W^hy did not He and His disciples kick him 
 out for a rascal instead of receiving him as 
 a disciple ? " Coleridge smiled very quietly, 
 and then spoke of some person (name for- 
 gotten) who had been making a comparison 
 between himself and "Wordsworth as to their 
 religious faith. " They said, although I was 
 an atheist, we were upon a par, for that 
 Wordsworth's Christianity was very like 
 Coleridge's atheism ; and Coleridge's atheism 
 was very like "Wordsworth's Christianity." 
 After some time, he moved round the room 
 to read the different engravings that hung 
 upon the walls. One, over the mantelpiece, 
 especially interested his fancy. There were 
 only two figures in the picture, both women. 
 One was of a lofty, commanding stature, 
 with a high, intellectual brow, and of an 
 abbess-like deportment. She was standing 
 in grave majesty, with the finger uplifted, in 
 the act of monition to a young girl beside 
 her. The face was in profile and somewhat 
 severe in its expression, but this was relieved 
 by the richness and grace of the draperies 
 in which she was profusely enveloped. The 
 
 307
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 girl was in the earliest and freshest spring 
 of youth, lovely and bright, with a some- 
 what careless and inconsiderate air, and she 
 seemed but half inclined to heed the sage 
 advice of her elder companion. She held 
 in her hand a rose, with which she was 
 toying, and had she been alive you would 
 have expected momentarily to see it taken 
 between the taper fingers and scattered in 
 wilful profusion. Coleridge uttered an ex- 
 pression of admiration, and then, as if talk- 
 ing to himself, apostrophised in some such 
 words as these : " There she stands, with 
 the world all before her : to her it is as a 
 fairy dream, a vision of unmingled joy. To 
 her it is as is that lovely flower, which woos 
 her by its bright hue and fragrant perfume. 
 Poor child ! must thou too be reminded of 
 the thorns that lurk beneath ? Turn thee to 
 thy monitress ! she bids thee clasp not too 
 closely pleasures that lure but to wound 
 thee. Look into her eloquent eyes ; listen 
 to her pleading voice ; her words are words 
 of wisdom ; garner them up in thy heart ; 
 and when the evil days come, the days in 
 which thou shalt say ' I find no pleasure in 
 them,' remember her as thus she stood, and, 
 
 308
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 with uppointing finger, bade thee think of 
 the delights of heaven — that heaven which is 
 ever ready to receive the returning wanderer 
 to its rest." 
 
 He spoke of the effect of different sounds 
 upon his sensations ; said, of all the pains 
 the sense of hearing ever brought to him, 
 that of the effect made by a dog belonging 
 to some German conjurer was the greatest. 
 The man pretended that the dog would 
 answer, " Ich bedanke mein herr " when 
 anything was given to it ; and the effort and 
 contortion made by the dog to produce the 
 required sound, proved that the scourge, or 
 some similar punishment, had been applied 
 to effect it. In contrast to this was the 
 homage he rendered to the speaking voice 
 of Mrs. Jordan, on which he expatiated in 
 such rapturous terms, as if he had been 
 indebted to it for a sixth sense. He said 
 that it was the exquisite witchery of her 
 tone that suggested an idea in his "Remorse," 
 that if Lucifer had had permission to retain 
 his angel voice, hell would have been hell 
 no longer. In the course of the evening 
 the talented editor of the " Comic Annual " 
 made his appearance. He was then known 
 
 309
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 only by his Hogarthian caricature of " The 
 Progress of Cant," upon which Coleridge 
 complimented him. After some time he 
 introduced many of his etchings, which were 
 then unknown to the world, and they were 
 the means of exciting in Coleridge the first 
 genuine hearty laugh I had seen. If one 
 had not admired entirely, it would have 
 been enough to have made him envied. 
 Laugh after laugh followed as the square 
 tablets (trump cards in the pack of the 
 genius of caricature) were laid upon the 
 table, and a merry game it was for all. 
 The effect was not a little increased by the 
 extreme quietude of their master, who stood 
 by without uttering a word, except with the 
 corners of his mouth, where the rich fund of 
 humour which had furnished the treat we 
 were enjoying, was speaking more intelligibly 
 than any words. He went, and the time 
 went, and the supper went ; and at last it 
 was time for Coleridge to go too, for he had 
 the walk to Highgate all before him. His 
 friend begged earnestly that he might walk 
 with him, but without avail. There was an 
 affectionate parting, as if they had been 
 boys rather than men, and it seemed to 
 
 310
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 concentrate their lives into that minute. It 
 recalled the meetings and partings of other 
 days ; the wanderings by the lakes ; the 
 many minglings in social union ; a whole 
 host of recollections seemed to crowd 
 around and enclose them in a magic circle. 
 Coleridge lingered on the threshold, as if he 
 were leaving what had been a part of his 
 heart's home for many years ; and again he 
 who had been his companion in many a 
 mountain ramble, many a stroll " in dale, 
 forest, and mead, by paved fountain and by 
 rushy brook, and on the beached margent 
 of the sea," would fain have kept up the old 
 companionship even though it was night, and 
 the way had no such temptations. Another 
 grasp of the hand, and a kiss of affection on 
 Mary's cheek, and he was gone. I never 
 saw him again ; and Charles Lamb and his 
 sister but once since ; and that was a few 
 months ago in the street. He had aged con- 
 siderably, but it scarcely excited melan- 
 choly, for Mary was with him like a good 
 guardian angel. They had that same country 
 air freshness about them ; they looked unlike 
 everything around ; there was an elderly 
 respectability about them ; not the modern 
 
 311
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 upstart prig of a word, but the genuine old 
 china, old plate, bright, black, mahogany- 
 air, which is now almost departed. I watched 
 them earnestly ; a vague feeling that it was 
 something I should never see again ; and 
 so it has happened. He has followed his 
 friend, and in time his sister will follow 
 him ; and thus goes the world. The wise 
 and the good, those we have looked up to 
 from our childhood as something too high 
 for our reach, like the stars above us, whose 
 bright history we seek in vain to know, 
 vanish from our sight, and leave us in dark- 
 ness — no, not in darkness — their works have 
 not followed them ; they live and breathe, 
 and infuse new life and breath into those 
 who come after them ; and many more are 
 rising to fill their places, and the world is 
 daily becoming purer and holier through 
 their influence. Peace and a benediction 
 upon their memories ! 
 
 S. Y. 
 
 The reader, I hope, will agree with me 
 that the above paper is one of no common 
 interest and value. It is true that we are 
 
 312
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 rich in pen-pictures both of Coleridge and 
 Lamb ; but were our knowledge of them, 
 as gained from the writings of their contem- 
 poraries, ten times more copious than it is, 
 we should still have reason to welcome such 
 accessions to it as we find in S. Y.'s paper. 
 That it is a true and authentic record 
 cannot, I think, be doubted. It carries 
 its own credentials in its contents, which 
 have every appearance of being a sober 
 and unexaggerated report of an actual ex- 
 perience. 
 
 But who was " S. Y." ? I wish I could tell 
 the reader : but I must confess that I am 
 quite unable to identify him. That he was 
 a writer of marked ability is certain. The 
 Repository for 1835 contains many other 
 articles in prose and verse which bear his 
 signature, most of which are of more than 
 ordinary merit. As the reader, after 
 having read the paper on Coleridge and 
 Lamb, will, I hope, feel some interest in 
 the writer of it, I will venture here to 
 reproduce a lyric by him, which I own I 
 am glad to find an excuse for reprinting. It 
 is as follows : 
 
 313
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 MORNING, NOON, AND NIGHT 
 
 You ask if I love you : — 
 Listen ! 
 The sun is above you ; 
 
 How the leaves glisten ! 
 How the flowers glow with his cheering ray ! — 
 
 Love is the sun that lights my way. 
 
 You ask if I love you : — 
 
 Yonder ! 
 Where trees crowd above you 
 
 At noontide wander — 
 "With woodland voices the depths are stirred — 
 
 You are my breath — my shade — my bird. 
 
 You ask if I love you : — 
 
 Hearken ! 
 When night comes above you, 
 
 And shadows darken. 
 Gaze on the heavens in their starry light — 
 
 You are the heaven to bless my sight. 
 
 I cannot help thinking that this is a poem 
 which is worthy to take its place in any 
 anthology of English poetry ; and I shall be 
 glad if its publication here should lead to its 
 inclusion in future collections. 
 
 It is perhaps worth noting that the extract 
 from a letter of Lamb's which appears in 
 
 314
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 S, Y.'s paper is from one which was addressed 
 to Cowden Clarke, and which is printed in 
 full in Canon Ainger's edition of the Letters. 
 The reader who compares the two versions 
 will find some variations in them, which are 
 not, however, of much importance. 
 
 The paper of most interest (after the one 
 printed above) in the Repository is the follow- 
 ing : 
 
 MUSICAL COMMENTARIES AND COR- 
 RESPONDENCE OF THE LATE 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 ""What !" exclaims the reader, "musical 
 notices from him who confessedly had no 
 ear ; who ever eschewed music, and all that 
 thereunto appertained ! Come, this is a 
 hoax." No, unbelieving Christian, it is no 
 hoax : the lines are veritable Elian. The 
 circumstances which gave rise to this extra- 
 ordinary production were as follows : — 
 Lamb, among his miscellaneous literature, 
 had chanced upon Burney's History of 
 Music, which, as was his wont in all cases, 
 he read carefully through, and thus, though 
 as earless, and as disinclined as ever to devote 
 
 315
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 himself to the tuneful goddess, his memory 
 became involuntarily stored with the names 
 and qualities of all who, " since Music, 
 heavenly maid, was young," have knelt at 
 her shrine. This impersonal knowledge he 
 a few days afterwards showered, with 
 ludicrously astounding effect, upon his friend 
 Ayrton, himself a learned professor of the 
 divine art, and who, like thee, gentle reader, 
 had no conception that Elia knew aught of 
 the matter. Delighted, however, to find (as 
 he supposed) in his and our dear friend so 
 distinguished an amateur, he entreated from 
 Lamb, for private edification and entertain- 
 ment, his opinions as to the " great masters " 
 of music, which next day gave rise to the 
 following : 
 
 •' Some cry up Haydn, some Mozart, 
 Just as the whim bites ; for my part, 
 I do not care a farthing candle 
 For either of them, or for Handel. 
 Cannot a man live free and easy. 
 Without admiring Pergolesi ? 
 Or through the world in comfort go, 
 Who never heard of Dr. Blow ? 
 For my own part I never have ; 
 And yet I eat, and drink, and shave, 
 
 316
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Like other people. If you watch it, 
 
 I know no more of stave or crotchet 
 
 Than did the unspaniardized Peruvians, 
 
 Or those old, queer antediluvians, 
 
 Who lived in th' unwashed world with Tubal, 
 
 Before that dirty blacksmith, Jubal, 
 
 By stroke on anvil, or by summ'at. 
 
 Found out, t' his great surprise, the gamut. 
 
 I know no more of Cimarosa, 
 
 Than he did of Salvator Rosa, 
 
 Being no painter: and, bad luck^ 
 
 Be mine, if I can bear that Gluck ! 
 
 Old Tycho Brahe, or modem Herschel, 
 
 Had something in them, but what's Purcell ? 
 
 The devil, with his foot so cloven, 
 
 For aught I care, may take Beethoven ; 
 
 And if the bargain doesn't suit, 
 
 I'll throw him Weber in to boot ! 
 
 There's not the splitting of a splinter 
 
 To choose 'twixt him last-named, and Winter. 
 
 Of Dr. Pepusch, old Queen Dido 
 
 Knew just as much, God knows, as I do. 
 
 I would not go four miles to visit 
 
 Sebastian Back, or Bof; which is it ? 
 
 No more I would for Bononcini. 
 
 As for Novello and Rossini, 
 
 I will not say a word about 'em ; 
 
 Except that we might do without 'em." 
 
 317
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Lamb made the following report of the 
 "Westminster Abbey Festival, in a letter to 
 a friend : 
 
 " We heard the music in the Abbey, at "Winch- 
 more Hill ! and the notes were incomparably 
 softened by the distance. Novello's chromatics 
 were distinctly audible, Clara was faulty in B 
 flat ; otherwise she sang like an angel. The 
 trombone and Beethoven's waltzes were the 
 best. "Who played the oboe ? " 
 
 The following letter is of a long anterior 
 date, and relates to very different topics ; 
 we subjoin it in the assurance of providing 
 a gratification for our readers : 
 
 " 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 fire at night, (the winter hands 
 of pork have begun,) gesture and emphasis 
 might have talked into some importance. Some- 
 thing about R 's wife, for instance, how tall 
 
 she is, and that she visits pranked up like a 
 queen of the May, with green streamers, — a 
 
 318
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 good-natured woman though, 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 lovers, and was obliged to be 
 convinced of its age from the parish register, 
 when it was proved to be only twelve, and an 
 edict issued that it should not give itself airs yet 
 these four years ; and how it got leave to be 
 called Miss, by grace : these and such like hows 
 were in my head to tell you ; but who can 
 write ? Also how Manning came to town in 
 spectacles, and studies physic ; is melancholy, 
 and seems to have something in his head which 
 he don't impart. Then, how am I going to 
 leave off smoking. O la ! — Your Leonardos of 
 Oxford made my mouth water, I was hurried 
 through the gallery, and they escaped me. 
 "What do I say ? I was a Goth then, and should 
 not have noticed them. I had not settled my 
 notions of beauty. I have now for ever : the 
 small head, the long eye, that sort of peering 
 curve, the wicked Italian mischief, the stick-at- 
 nothing-Herodias'-daughter kind of grace. You 
 understand me. But you disappoint me in pass- 
 ing over in absolute silence the Blenheim 
 Leonardo. Did you not see it ? Excuse a 
 lover's curiosity. I have seen no pictures of 
 
 319
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 note since, except Dawe's gallery. It is curious 
 to see how differently two great men treat the 
 same subject, yet both excellent in their way : 
 for instance, Milton and Mr. Dawe. Mr, Dawe 
 has chosen to illustrate the story of Sampson 
 exactly in the point of view in which Milton has 
 been most happy, the interview between the 
 Jewish hero, 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 hair 
 " which of a nation armed contained the 
 strength," I don't remember he says black ; 
 but cotild Milton imagine them to be yellow ? do 
 you ? Mr, Dawe, with striking originahty of 
 conception, has crowned him with a thin yellow 
 wig, in colour precisely like to Dyson's, in curl 
 and quantity resembling Mrs, Professor's : his 
 limbs rather stout, about such a man as my 
 brother or Rickman ; but no Atlas, nor 
 Hercules, nor yet so bony as Dubois, the clown 
 of Sadler's Wells. This was judicious, taking 
 the spirit of the story rather than the fact ; for 
 doubtless God could communicate national 
 salvation to the trust of flax and tow as well as 
 hemp and cordage, and could draw down a 
 temple with a golden tress as soon as with the 
 cables of the British navy. Miss Dawe is about 
 
 a portrait of sulky F , but Miss Dawe is of 
 
 320
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 opinion that her subject is neither reserved nor 
 sullen, and doubtless she will persuade the 
 picture to be of the same opinion. However, 
 the features are tolerably like. Too much of 
 Dawes ! 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 pretence of 
 a great man we had. Nobody is left of any 
 name at all. His secretary died by his side, I 
 imagined him, a Mr, Scott, to be the man you 
 met at Hume's, but I learn from Mrs. Hume 
 
 that it is not the same. I met Mrs. H one 
 
 day and agreed to go on the Sunday to tea, but 
 the rain prevented us and the distance. I have 
 been to apologize, and we are to dine there the 
 first fine Sunday ! Strange perverseness. I 
 never went while you staid here, and now I go 
 iofind yoTi. "What other news is there, Mary ? 
 What puns have I made in the last fortnight ? 
 You never remember them. You have no 
 relish for the comic. Oh ! tell Hazhtt not to 
 forget to send the American Farmer. I dare 
 say it isn't so good as he fancies, but a book's 
 a book. 
 
 I have not heard from Wordsworth, or from 
 Malta since. Charles Kemble, it seems, enters 
 
 321 X
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 into possession to-morrow. We sup at 109, 
 Russel-street, this evening, I wish your brother 
 wouldn't drink. It's a blemish in the greatest 
 characters. You send me a modern quotation 
 poetical. How do you like this in an old play ? 
 Vittoria Corombona, an Italian lady, a Leonardo 
 one, nicknamed the White Devil, being on her 
 trial for murder, &c., and questioned about 
 seducing a duke from his wife and the states, 
 makes answer : 
 
 " Condemn you me for that the Duke did love me ? 
 So may you blame some fair and crystal river, 
 For that some melancholic distracted man 
 Hath drowned himself in it." 
 
 Our ticket was a £20, Alas!! Are both yours 
 blanks ? 
 
 ' N,B, I shall expect a line from you, if but a 
 bare line, whenever you write to Russel-street, 
 and a letter often when you do not, I pay no 
 postage. But I will have consideration for you 
 till parliament time, and franks. Luck to Ned 
 Search, and the new art of colouring. Monkey 
 sends her love, and Mary's 'specially, 
 
 ' Yours truly, 
 
 'C. LAMB, 
 
 '10th November, 1805, 
 
 'P.S. Godwin has asked after you several 
 iimes.' 
 
 322
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Although the above paper contains little 
 that will be entirely new to most Elians, I 
 think the reader will agree with me that I 
 have followed the best course in printing it 
 in full. If the verses on the musical com- 
 posers, as printed labove, be compared with 
 the version in Canon Ainger's edition of the 
 AX/^orks it will be found that there are a good 
 many variations in them. Most of them, it 
 is true, are of small importance, but they 
 are sufficient to prove that the manuscript 
 used by the writer in theReposltorywas not the 
 same as that from which the Ainger version 
 was printed. As the reader will no doubt 
 have the means at hand of comparing the 
 two versions, it is not necessary for me to 
 dwell upon them ; but I will quote the last six 
 lines from Ainger, inasmuch as it is in them 
 that the most material differences occur. 
 
 I would not go four miles to visit 
 
 Sebastian Bach (or Batch, which is it ?) 
 
 No more I would for Bononcini, 
 
 As for Novello and Rossini, 
 
 I shall not say a word to grieve 'em. 
 
 Because they're living : so I leave 'em. 
 
 It will also be found that the letter to 
 
 323
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Hazlitt, as printed above, differs very con- 
 siderably from the version printed by Canon 
 Ainger. In this case it is certain that both 
 versions must have been derived from the 
 same original ; and the reader will find it a 
 rather instructive task to note how differ- 
 ently the same document will sometimes be 
 dealt with by different editors. On the 
 whole I cannot help thinking that the Re- 
 pository text is the better of the two. It 
 gives us, for one thing, two passages which 
 are omitted in the Ainger version. These 
 are the passages about Miss Dawe and her 
 
 portrait of sulky F ; and the allusion to 
 
 the lottery ticket. Surely it was an error of 
 judgment to omit two such characteristic 
 touches. Perhaps I ought to add that it was 
 Talfourd, and not Czmon Ainger, who was 
 originally responsible for these omissions. 
 
 On page 626 of the Repository there is a 
 notice of Lamb's " Rosamund Gray, &c.," 
 then published in a new edition by Moxon. 
 This is of so much interest that it must be 
 quoted in full : 
 
 A delightful companion- volume to the Essays 
 of Elia. In addition to the pathetic tale of 
 
 324
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 ' Rosamund Gray,' and the farce of ' Mr. 
 
 H ,' it contains the Recollections of 
 
 Christchurch ; the Dramatic Criticisms on 
 Shakespeare and his Contemporaries ; the 
 papers on Fuller, Hogarth, and George 
 Wither ; and a variety of articles which 
 originally appeared in Leigh Hunt's Reflector, 
 a periodical which, though long since dead, 
 remains embalmed in its own spice and frag- 
 rance. "W"e take this opportunity of intro- 
 ducing the following few but valuable sen- 
 tences, minuted down from the lips of the late 
 S. T. Coleridge: 
 
 CHARACTER OF CHARLES LAMB, BY 
 COLERIDGE 
 
 ' Charles Lamb has more totality and indivi- 
 duality of character than any other man I 
 know, or have ever known in all my life. In 
 most men we distinguish between the different 
 powers of their intellect as one being predomi- 
 nant over the other. The genius of "Words- 
 worth is greater than his talent, though con- 
 siderable. The talent of Southey is greater 
 than his genius, though respectable ; and so 
 on. But in Charles Lamb it is altogether one ; 
 his genius is talent, and his talent is genius, 
 and his heart is as whole and one as his head. 
 The wild words that come from him sometimes 
 
 325
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 on religious subjects would shock you from the 
 mouth of any other man, but from him they 
 seem mere flashes of fireworks. If an argu- 
 ment seem to his reason not fully true, he 
 bursts out in that odd desecrating way : yet 
 his will, the inward man, is, I well know, pro- 
 foundly religious. Watch him, when alone, 
 and you will find him with either a Bible, or an 
 old divine, or an old English poet ; in such is 
 his pleasure.' 
 
 The value of this notice consists, of course, 
 in its quotation of Coleridge's character of 
 Lamb. I do not think that any editor of 
 either Lamb or Coleridge has ever before 
 reproduced it. It is needless for me to dwell 
 upon the interest of the passage, which is 
 honourable alike to the poet and the essayist. 
 It sums up, as only Coleridge could have 
 done, the essential and distinguishing 
 qualities of its subject, and does it in a way 
 with which Lamb himself would have been 
 delighted. Coleridge, as we know, did not 
 always succeed in keeping his utterances 
 about Lamb entirely free from a suspicion 
 of patronising indulgence ; but in these 
 words, which were probably spoken not 
 long before his death, we find nothing but 
 
 326
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 unstinted praise and cordial appreciation of 
 his life-long friend. Saving the one re- 
 grettable misunderstanding between them, 
 there is little in the history of English men 
 of letters which is so beautiful as the mutual 
 affection which existed between these two, 
 who, in their personal characters, and in the 
 nature of their genius, were so unlike, but 
 who were nevertheless bound together by 
 the strongest links of love and friendship. 
 
 On page 134 of the Repository, we find 
 Lamb's letter to "William Hazlitt on the birth 
 of his son. As this differs only in a few 
 small points from the same letter as printed 
 in Canon Ainger's edition, it is hardly worth 
 while to reproduce the whole of it here. 
 Only one paragraph need be quoted. This 
 is as follows : 
 
 Martin and the bard-boys join in congratula- 
 tions. Love to Sarah. Sorry we are not within 
 caudle-shot. 
 
 " Bard-boys " is given in Canon Ainger's 
 version as " card-boys," which we may, 
 no doubt, interpret as " "Whist-players." 
 " Caudle-shot " appears in Ainger as 
 " candle-shot " — a printer's error, I suppose. 
 
 327
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 I think the reader will agree with me that 
 the extracts I have made from the Repository 
 were well worth rescuing from their ob- 
 scurity. Old magazines commonly lie ne- 
 glected in our libraries, and are very seldom 
 referred to ; yet many of them contain 
 matter of great interest, and sometimes of 
 high literary value. There are few 
 periodicals indeed — save those, perhaps, 
 which are devoted to sectarian interests — 
 which will not repay the reader for the time 
 expended in examining them. In exploring 
 them one finds the most unexpected things ; 
 and whatever subject the inquirer may be 
 interested in, he is almost sure to find 
 in them something that will throw light 
 upon it. 
 
 328
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 VIII 
 
 GLEANINGS FROM VARIOUS 
 SOURCES 
 
 A PRECURSOR OF LAMB'S "TALES FROM 
 SHAKESPEARE." 
 
 I do not think it has ever before been 
 remarked that the Lambs were not the first 
 to whom the idea occurred of making 
 the plays of Shakespeare a medium of 
 amusement and instruction for the young. 
 Curiously enough it was a Frenchman, and 
 not one of his own countrymen, who first 
 hit upon the happy thought. I have now 
 before me a book with the following title : 
 " Contes Moraux, Amusans & Instructifs, 
 a I'usage de la Jeunesse, tires des Tragedies 
 de Shakespeare. Par M. Perrin. ... A 
 Londres, chez Law, Robson, Cadell, and 
 Elmsly. 1783." The compiler of this work 
 was a teacher of the French language, who 
 
 329
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 had established himself in London. He 
 dedicates his work to " Mi-lady Charlotte 
 Finch," who was directress of the education 
 of the children of George III. The list of 
 subscribers to the book includes many 
 members of the nobility and leaders of 
 fashion of the time. The author's preface 
 is very sensible and unassuming, though it 
 reflects, naturally enough, some of the ideas 
 then prevalent as to Shakespeare's want of 
 art. M. Perrin deals with fifteen of the 
 tragedies, including seven of those which 
 are comprised in the " Tales from Shake- 
 speare." The chief difference between the 
 " Contes Moraux " and the "Tales" is that 
 M. Perrin tells the stories less in the form 
 of narrative and more in the way of dialogue 
 than the Lambs do. "Whether the "Contes" 
 attained any degree of popularity I do not 
 know ; but it seems to me that the book was 
 very well fitted for its special purpose, and 
 might even now, with some revision, be used 
 as a school text-book. There is no evidence 
 to show that the Lambs had ever seen the 
 Frenchman's book ; but it seems not un- 
 likely that it may have fallen under their 
 notice. If they borrowed anything from it, 
 
 330
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 it could have been no more than the general 
 idea ; still it seems only just to M. Perrin 
 that he should receive the credit of having 
 been the first in the field. 
 
 "THE ENCHANTED MIRROR." 
 
 I have in my possession, a fairy tale, 
 evidently intended for juvenile reading, 
 which bears the following title: "The En- 
 chanted Mirror, a Moorish Romance." 
 Salisbury, Printed and Sold by J. Easton. 
 Sold also by E. Newberry, St. Paul's Church- 
 yard, London. 1799." The story is dedi- 
 cated in verse "To Mary." I quote some of 
 the lines : 
 
 On the state of the mind, and its functions, dear 
 
 Mary, 
 The wisest and best of philosophers vary : 
 Some assert that we're bom like a sheet of 
 
 blank paper ; 
 That within all is dark, without light, without 
 
 taper ; 
 And as soft bits of wax all impressions receive, 
 And communicate none ; so they firmly believe 
 That her aid from without instruction dispenses. 
 And the mind all its knowledge receives from 
 
 the senses : 
 
 331
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 That example, and habit, and culture, and art. 
 Form the temper and morals and model the 
 
 heart. 
 While some no less wisely and learnedly prate 
 On sentiment moral, ideas innate ; 
 That the mind hke the sun of its own nature 
 
 bright, 
 Illumines the mass and communicates hght. 
 
 ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ yJT 
 
 When doctors so differ then what shall we do ? 
 Or how shall we sever the false from the 
 true ? 
 
 *A&* iit. He. ^e. 
 
 ^C ^f ^ ^ 
 
 To experience we'll turn. So I now lay before 
 
 ye, 
 
 The "Mirror Enchanted," an old Moorish 
 
 story ; 
 In which you the truth of Pope's maxim will 
 
 find, 
 ^^ It is education that forms the young mind, 
 And as the twig's bent, so the tree is inclined." 
 
 In Lamb's " Letter to an old Gentleman 
 whose education has been neglected " we 
 have, in the following passage, the image of 
 the sheet of white paper ; 
 
 Your mind as yet, give me leave to tell you, 
 
 332
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 is in the state of a sheet of white paper. We 
 must not blot or blur it over too hastily. 
 
 We have thus, in the dedication "To Mary," 
 and in the passage just quoted, two points 
 which seem at first sight to point to Charles 
 Lamb as the author of " The Enchanted 
 Mirror." They are, however, much too 
 slight to be relied upon in the absence of 
 other evidence. The story itself is an in- 
 genious and well-told one. It shows more 
 skill in narrative and invention than" Lamb 
 ever exhibited in his acknowledged writings. 
 Therefore, though I should like to think that 
 the romance was his, I must own that I do 
 not believe he could have written it. I have 
 thought it well, nevertheless, to record its 
 existence here, in order that future enquirers 
 may, if they choose, examine it for them- 
 selves. 
 
 " THE ADVENTURES OF 
 TELEMACHUS." 
 
 I have in my possession a small juvenile 
 book, the title of which is as follows : " The 
 Adventures of Telemachus, Son of Ulysses. 
 "With four coloured plates. London : 
 
 333
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Printed for B. Tabart. ... No. 157, New 
 Bond Street. . . . Price one shilling. 1807. 
 
 The booklet is rather superior in its " get 
 up " to the ordinary run of juvenile books 
 of the period, the coloured illustrations 
 being evidently the work of a good artist. It 
 consists of 69 pages of text, in addition to 
 the four illustrations. It has no preface, 
 and is without any indication as to its author- 
 ship. 
 
 When I first saw this little work the 
 question at once suggested itself to me — " Is 
 there any relation between it and Lamb's 
 ' Adventures of Ulysses ? '" Well, it has at 
 least this relation to the latter that it 
 preceded it in point of time, and so may 
 have suggested the subject of his story to 
 Lamb. It should be mentioned here that 
 though the date on the title-page of "The 
 Adventures of Telemachus " is 1807, the 
 plates are dated "Dec. 1805." It is thus 
 evident that " Telemachus " preceded 
 "Ulysses" (the frontispiece of which bears 
 the date of June 6, 1808) by something like 
 two years and half. This is a fact which 
 should be carefully noted for a reason 
 which will appear presently. 
 
 334
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 On comparing the two works in order to 
 see whether any indication as to the author- 
 ship of " Telemachus " could be gathered 
 from the evidence of style, I came to the 
 conclusion that there was nothing to forbid 
 the idea that both might have proceeded 
 from the same pen. There is, it is true, 
 a warmth and liveliness of narration in 
 " Ulysses," which is hardly to be found in 
 "Telemachus" ; but this, I think, may 
 rather be attributed to the greater interest 
 of the original story than to superior literary 
 art in the writer. So far then the question 
 was at least left open for further examination. 
 At this point other evidence — or at least 
 what appeared to me to be such — presented 
 itself in a rather unexpected way. In his 
 Preface to "The Adventures of Ulysses" 
 Lamb begins by saying " This work is 
 designed as a supplement to the Adventures 
 of Telemachus. It treats of the conduct and 
 sufferings of Ulysses, the father of Tele- 
 machus." It is surely a remarkable thing that 
 Lamb should style his work a supplement 
 to the Adventures of Telemachus. To treat 
 the adventures of the father as a supplement 
 to those of the son is surely a reversal of 
 
 335
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 the ordinary practice. It is also a reversal 
 of the natural order from another point of 
 view, for Fenelon v^rould not have claimed 
 to precede Homer even as regards literary 
 merit. How then shall we explain Lamb's 
 curious expression? If he had already 
 written a work upon the Adventures of 
 Telemachus, it would then be natural for 
 him to speak of his "Adventures of Ulysses" 
 as a supplement to the former work : other- 
 wise I see no reason why he should use 
 so peculiar an expression. 
 
 The fourth chapter of " The Adventures 
 of Ulysses " relates the doings of the hero 
 in the island of Calypso ; and herein we 
 find a passage which seems to go some way 
 towards showing that Lamb was the author 
 of •' The Adventures of Telemachus." After 
 a description of the island Lamb proceeds : 
 
 It were useless to describe over again what 
 has been so well told already ; or to relate 
 those soft arts of courtship which the goddess 
 used to detain Ulysses ; the same in kind 
 which she afterwards practised upon his less 
 wary son, whom Minerva, in the shape of 
 Mentor, hardly preserved from her snares 
 when they came to the Delightful Island 
 
 336
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 together in search of the scarce departed 
 Ulysses. 
 
 I need hardly say that Homer tells us 
 nothing of any temptation of Telemachus by 
 Calypso, whom indeed he never brings into 
 contact with her. All this is the invention of 
 Fenelon. "WhythendoesLambrefertoit? He 
 says in his Preface that the merit of his book 
 belongs to Chapman rather than to himself ; 
 and there was quite enough material suited 
 to his purpose in the old poet's translation, 
 without drawing upon Fenelon's courtly 
 fiction. 
 
 There are other passages in " The Adven- 
 tures of Ulysses," which seem to prove that 
 Fenelon's "Telemachus" was almost as 
 much in Lamb's mind as Chapman's Homer 
 when he was writing his " Ulysses," The 
 reader should refer to the eighth chapter of 
 the latter work, where he will find a passage 
 in which Minerva informs Ulysses of the 
 events which have happened in Ithaca 
 during his absence. This, again, is derived 
 from Fenelon and not from Chapman. All 
 these things make it at least certain that 
 Lamb had a minute acquaintance with 
 
 337 Y
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 Fenelon's work, and constantly referred to 
 it while writing his " Ulysses." Yet one 
 would think that the Frenchman's fiction 
 was one which would hardly have attracted 
 Lamb's attention for its own sake. So 
 artificial a production could have had little 
 interest for him, unless some extraneous 
 reason caused him to study it. It is true that 
 the book in Lamb's time was a good deal 
 used as a school-book, and it is therefore 
 possible that he may have thus become 
 acquainted with it ; otherwise I cannot think 
 that he would, without some special induce- 
 ment, have studied it so carefully as he 
 evidently did. The natural inference from 
 the various considerations I have urged 
 would seem to be that Lamb was in all 
 probability the author of " The Adventures 
 of Telemachus." 
 
 As it is likely that the reader will think 
 that in the above argument I have somewhat 
 overstated my case I will at once confess 
 that I have written rather as an advocate 
 than a judge. "Whether the facts warrant 
 the conclusion which I have drawn from 
 them I will not pretend to decide. If the 
 reader allows that I have made out a case, 
 
 338
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 that is all perhaps that I am entitled to claim. 
 "Whether Lamb did or did not write the little 
 booklet is rather a matter of curiosity than 
 of much importance. His reputation in 
 either case would be neither lessened nor 
 increased. I have, therefore, felt myself at 
 liberty to indulge more freely in conjecture 
 and speculation upon the subject than would 
 perhaps have been quite legitimate if the 
 matter at issue had been of a more serious 
 nature. 
 
 "MR. H " 
 
 The following notice of the first perform- 
 ance of Lamb's farce is taken from a maga- 
 zine entitled Monthly Literary Recreations. It 
 appeared in the number dated December 
 1806. 
 
 MR. H. , AN ENTERTAINMENT IN 
 
 TWO ACTS 
 
 This piece met with the fate which is most 
 justly merited : it was condemned. A prologue, 
 full of real humour and wit, excellently well 
 delivered by Mr. Elliston made us hope better 
 things, and we confess that for the first two or 
 three scenes our curiosity was excited, and the 
 first act, owing to the exertions of Mr. Elliston 
 and Miss Mellon, went off tolerably smooth, 
 
 339
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 until the last scene. In the second act, Mr. 
 
 H , the hero of the piece, who had before 
 
 concealed his name on account of its disgusting 
 vulgarity, blunders it out himself, and the 
 appellation of Hogsflesh is made known, and 
 immediately a string of the most stale puns and 
 proverbs are let loose upon it. Here all the 
 interest vanished, the audience were disgusted, 
 and the farce went on to its very conclusion 
 almost unheard, amidst the contending clamours 
 of silence ! hear ! hear ! and off ! off ! off ! 
 The piece was, however, given out for a second 
 representation, but was afterwards withdrawn 
 by the author. 
 
 Of course the cause of the damnation of 
 
 *' Mr. H " was that the expectations of the 
 
 audience were raised to too high a pitch. It 
 is usually bad policy for a dramatist to keep 
 his audience in ignorance of any essential 
 point of the plot. Had the hero's name been 
 communicated to the audience in the first or 
 second scene of the farce, it is likely that 
 they, being let into the secret, would have 
 enjoyed the attempts of the various cha- 
 racters to penetrate the mystery. Their 
 disappointment, when it proved that the 
 portentous name was no more than a varia- 
 
 340
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 tion of one of the commonest of surnames, 
 was perhaps pardonable. To use an ex- 
 pressive bit of slang they felt themselves 
 " sold." Yet they were surely rather un- 
 reasonable. To label a piece as a farce is 
 to give notice to the audience that it is an 
 entertainment in which they are not to 
 expect a strict adherence to nature and 
 probability, but are to pardon many extrava- 
 gances, provided only that they tickle the 
 
 fancy and excite laughter. " Mr. H ," 
 
 I think, stands this test very well ; and if 
 briskly acted before an audience with a little 
 imagination and willingness to be amused 
 without too closely inquiring why, it ought 
 to afford a good deal of pleasure to them. 
 It is possible that if Lamb had used the 
 
 material of " Mr.H " as a story instead of 
 
 a farce the result would have been more 
 satisfactory to him. It is easy, as a matter 
 of fact, to make a tolerably amusing story 
 from it. The feat was accomplished in 1835 
 by a certain " J. I.," who under the title of 
 •' Mr. H., or Beware of a Bad Name," pub- 
 lished his version in a periodical of the time 
 called The Parterre (vol. ii. p. 204). The 
 plagiarist, who gave no hint that his story 
 
 341
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 was founded on Lamb's farce, did his work 
 not unskilfully. Probably it put a guinea or 
 two into a not too well-filled purse ; and we 
 need'uot now wax indignant over the writer's 
 dishonesty. 
 
 LAMB'S LETTERS TO MANNING. 
 
 Canon' Ainger, in his edition of the Letters 
 of Lamb, begins the letters to Manning 
 with one i^dated Dec. 28, 1799. But it is 
 plain that |the following letter (No. XL VII.) 
 should precede it, for it is evidently Lamb's 
 first letter to Manning. This is proved by 
 the whole tone of it : but see particularly the 
 last sentence of it — " I must not prove tedious 
 to you inwiy first outset, lest I should affright 
 you by my ill-judged loquacity." 
 
 It is also to be remarked that two other 
 letters of Lamb to Manning are misplaced in 
 Canon Ainger's edition. These are the 
 letters numbered L. and LIIL, which cer- 
 tainly ought to change places. This is 
 proved by the fact that Lamb says in 
 No. LIIL — " I begin to think you atheists 
 not quite so tall a species ! " Manning's 
 reply to this letter is now in my possession, 
 
 342
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 and in it he begs Lamb not again to call him 
 an atheist, because he suspects that his letters 
 are sometimes opened during their passage 
 through the post. In the letter numbered L. 
 Lamb says — " Huzza, boys ! and down with 
 the Atheists ! " which is evidently his response 
 to Manning's request. 
 
 "STORIES AFTER NATURE," BY 
 C. WELLS 
 
 In Mr. W. C. Hazlitt's " Lamb and Haz- 
 litt " there is a letter (p. 133) to the author of 
 a volume of stories, a presentation copy of 
 which had been sent to Lamb. Mr. Hazlitt 
 appears to have been unaware that this letter 
 was addressed to Charles "Wells, on the 
 publication of his " Stories after Nature." 
 It is interesting to know that Lamb appreci- 
 ated and valued these charming stories, 
 which very few did at the time of their first 
 publication. In the letter he styles them 
 " bright little stories," and says that both he 
 and his sister have been much pleased with 
 them. The fact that ' Stories after Nature ' 
 was the book thus praised is proved by the 
 following passage — " ' Edward and Edmond,' 
 
 343
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 and the last tale of all, are the favourites " — 
 ihe story named being part of the contents 
 of the book. 
 
 DAISY PIE. 
 
 I recently purchased a copy of Hone's 
 " Every Day Book " in the original parts. 
 Some of these have, on the back cover, the 
 Editor's " Notices to Correspondents." 
 Among these I found the following on the 
 cover of Part 5 : 
 
 "J. M." is a wag. His 'derivation' reminds 
 the Editor of an observation the other day by 
 his witty friend, Mr, Lion. Beingpressed to take 
 some rhubarb pie, Mr, L, declined because it 
 was physic ; on reply that it was pleasant and 
 innocent, he rejoined "so is a daisy, but I don't 
 therefore like daisy pie," " Daisy pie ! who 
 ever heard of daisy pies ? " " My authority is 
 Shakespeare ; he expressly mentions daisies 
 pied:' 
 
 Can it be doubted that the "Mr. Lion" 
 of this story was Lamb ? The story is much 
 too characteristic of him to be open to 
 question. It is evident that Hone, by print- 
 ing " Lion " in capitals intended to suggest 
 
 344
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 the punster's real name. Of course it is 
 unnecessary to add that Lamb was a friend 
 of Hone, and a contributor to " The Every 
 Day Book." 
 
 LAMB A YEARNER AFTER MOUNTAIN 
 SCENERY AND A COUNTRY LIFE ! 
 
 In the Oxford University Magazine for 
 March 1835, there is an article and also a 
 poem on Charles Lamb, which were 
 occasioned by his then recent death. Both 
 were evidently intended by their writers to 
 be sympathetic and appreciative, though, as 
 will be seen, their praise is rather offensively 
 mingled with censure on a point which might 
 surely have been passed over in silence. 
 The most curious thing, howevei", in both 
 pieces is the strange misconception which 
 they display with regard to one of Lamb 
 most pronounced characteristics. The writer 
 of the prose article tells us : 
 
 It is well known — as well known, at least, as 
 anything concerning him — that he was not 
 happy, and that the latter part of his life 
 especially, was disfigured by some excesses 
 which it is impossible to excuse. It is strange 
 
 345
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 that the plot of his own longest poem should 
 turn upon the vice to the allurements of which 
 he yielded, and that the evil consequences of 
 such indulgence should be as strongly set forth 
 there as it is possible they should be : but such 
 is the case, , . . 
 
 The most remarkable feature, perhaps, in 
 the character of Charles Lamb, and a very 
 remarkable one it is, was the deep love of, the 
 strong yearning after mountain scenery and a 
 country life, which is known to have been the 
 cause, or one of the chief causes of his unhappi- 
 ness : in the words of Coleridge : 
 
 — he had pin'd 
 And hunger' d after nature many a year 
 In the great city pent, winning his way 
 With sad yet patient soul, through evil and 
 
 pain 
 And strange calamity. 
 
 In his own works we find everywhere the 
 marks of this feeling : the beautiful lines in his 
 tragedy, of which Hazlitt tells a story, that 
 Godwin having some recollection of them, tried 
 in vain to find them in the old poets, and at 
 last appHed to their author for assistance, are 
 full of this feeUng. 
 
 Of the poem " To the Memory of Charles 
 
 346
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Lamb" which follows the prose essay, all 
 that can be said is that it might possibly 
 have been worse. The writer was evidently 
 so destitute of the sense of humour that it 
 was impossible for him to understand or 
 appreciate the humourist Elia, Had Lamb 
 ever met him he would have wanted to feel 
 his bumps, even as he wanted to feel those 
 of the Comptroller of Taxes. 
 
 The following extracts from the poem will 
 give the reader a good idea of its tone and 
 spirit : 
 
 Farewell, kind Spirit ! — like a summer cloud. 
 With no ungentle gloom hath Death come 
 
 down 
 All calmly on the sunshine of old age : — 
 And now thou sleepest. From the far-off land 
 Of hills and rivers thou didst love in youth, 
 Perchance upon thy dying ear there fell 
 Voices and mystic sounds, with cadence strange, 
 That spoke in thrilling whispers of the time 
 Of youth's high-breathings, manhood's energies. 
 
 Thy lot was hard. Benevolent Old Man — 
 Most hard indeed : — thou wouldst have pitched 
 
 thy tent 
 Where a lone streamlet wells from out its urn 
 Of moss-clad rock, there gladly listening 
 
 347
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 The quiet music of the mountain winds ; 
 And tuning thy full soul to such high themes 
 As most befit an holy Worshipper 
 At Nature's inmost shrine ; and feeding there 
 Thy natural cheerfulness with those fair forms 
 That move in peaceful gladness on the earth, 
 Or float like golden vapours through the air ! 
 
 Thy lot was hard, Benevolent Old Man, 
 Most hard indeed ! Within the City pent, 
 That vast and mighty city, thou didst walk 
 A cheerless exile from thine own bright land. 
 There thy soul sicken'd at man's selfishness. 
 Thy soul recoil'd within itself ; for men 
 Knew not the language that it spoke ; they 
 
 spurn' d 
 Those shadowy hopes, and phantasies, and 
 
 loves 
 That were thy boyhood's dreams ; for thou 
 
 hadst been 
 A priest in Nature's temple, — while the crowd 
 Were hurrying on to those accursed halls, 
 Where cold Suspicion hath usurp' d the 
 
 throne — 
 The ancient throne of Wisdom ; and hath 
 
 taught 
 Her baneful lessons of distrust and hate, 
 Uprooted all our old ancestral ties, 
 And banish'd charity and mutual love. 
 
 348
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 All this was heavy on thee, Mild Old Man ; 
 A mournful gloom was round thy spirit hung ; 
 And yet thou didst not shun the company 
 Of thy less-gifted brethren ; though thy soul 
 Yearn'd for the open fields and liberal air 
 To walk in idle freedom. As the sun 
 That struggles all day long with Autumn fogs, 
 Shrouds in a misty mantle its bright form, 
 Then darts its burning splendours far and 
 
 wide 
 O'er hill and dale : — So from thy spirit's gloom 
 Thy native gaiety of heart burst forth 
 With a most pleasing lustre, that dispell'd 
 The clouds of sadness gather' d on thy brow ! 
 
 I dare not to regret thee, Mild Old Man ! 
 For a cold void was in thy heart ; and thou 
 Didst vainly strive, by most unhallow'd means, 
 To win oblivion of thy lot : a cloud 
 Pass'd on thy gentle spirit : thou didst strive 
 To make thy blood run boundingly again : 
 And oft didst catch, in phrenzied impotence 
 At that receding many-coloured veil 
 That hung between the real world and thee. 
 But now thou sleepest in the dewy earth, — 
 And he who died for thee bids us hope. 
 With an undoubting faith that all is well. 
 
 Considering the irritation which Lamb 
 showed at being called "gentle" by Coleridge, 
 
 349
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 it is easy to conceive how much annoy- 
 ance he would have felt could he have 
 perused the above-quoted passages of well- 
 meaning inanity. One can almost see him 
 as his anger rises at the various epithets 
 bestowed upon him. "Kind spirit" he 
 might perhaps have endured ; but " Benevo- 
 lent Old Man " would have provoked him 
 to the use of quite unparliamentary language ; 
 while " Mild Old Man" would have reduced 
 him to a state of speechless indignation. 
 
 Perhaps some of my readers may think 
 that I am a little unjust to the author of 
 the lines I have quoted. His intentions, it 
 cannot be doubted, were good ; and was not 
 Lamb, they may ask, "gentle," "kind," 
 " benevolent," and " mild "? "Well, mildness, 
 I think, was hardly one of his characteristics, 
 nor was he by any means always gentle ; but 
 the other epithets may be allowed to pass. 
 Yet one feels that they are inexpressive and 
 inappropriate as applied to Lamb, because 
 they were rather the accidental than the 
 essential qualities of his nature. He shared 
 them with thousands of his contemporaries 
 who were no wise distinguished in any other 
 way. All the virtues Lamb possessed — 
 
 350
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 and they were many — would not have suf- 
 ficed to keep his name alive had he not 
 also possessed that quality, so difficult to 
 define, but so unmistakable in its manifesta- 
 tions, which we term genius. To praise him, 
 therefore, as the writers in the Oxford Uni- 
 versity 'Magazine do, for his moral virtues, 
 with only a casual recognition of his peculiar 
 genius, is as if one should praise Shake- 
 speare for the prudence and business ability 
 which enabled him to accumulate a con- 
 siderable fortune, while omitting to mention 
 his greatness as a poet and dramatist. No 
 one who is conscious of the possession of 
 powers which are unique, or which few 
 share with him, cares to be complimented 
 on the facts that he is a good husband and 
 father, and pays his debts honestly and 
 punctually. These are qualities which, if 
 not as common as they ought to be, are at 
 least so common that it is rather a reproach 
 to a man that he does not own them, than 
 a matter of praise that he does possess them. 
 Lamb, as I conceive his character, was a 
 good son, a good brother, and a good friend, 
 because he was such by virtue of his natural 
 disposition, and it would have been doing 
 
 351
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 violence to it had he acted otherwise than in 
 accordance with the better impulses of his 
 mind and heart. His genius, on the other 
 hand, though that also was partly a natural 
 endowment, required to be sedulously culti- 
 vated at the cost of much time and study, 
 and often at the sacrifice of that liking for 
 social intercourse, which was one of his most 
 characteristic traits ; and it was something 
 therefore on which he might legitimately 
 pride himself. I am not, of course, saying 
 that when we are making a complete survey 
 of Lamb's character, we may not take into 
 consideration his admirable moral qualities : 
 I only desire to point out that our first 
 concern with him, as with any author, is with 
 his writings. I almost doubt if any author 
 ever lived who would not rather have been 
 complimented on his literary talents than on 
 any other good quality which he might have 
 possessed. The only exception I can at 
 present think of is Congreve, if there is any 
 truth in the anecdote which represents him 
 as telling Voltaire that he would rather be 
 visited as a private gentleman than as a 
 famous author. Even in his case it may 
 well be doubted whether he spoke with 
 
 352
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 entire sincerity. Possibly the remark was 
 provoked by some piece of maladroit flattery 
 on the part of his visitor. Praise on the 
 score of his writings was as grateful to Lamb 
 as it is to almost all authors ; but he would 
 have listened impatiently, had he listened at 
 all, to any one who thought to flatter him on 
 account of his life-long devotion to his 
 afflicted sister. 
 
 Is it necessary to say anything on the two 
 other points on which the writers in the 
 magazine enlarge, viz., the fact that Lamb 
 sometimes exceeded the limits of strict tem- 
 perance, and the other "fact" that his life 
 was rendered unhappy by his yearnings for 
 a country life, and for mountain scenery ? 
 The second point may be dismissed with the 
 remark that nobody would have been more 
 astonished than Lamb himself if he had 
 been informed of the yearnings in question. 
 As to the allusions to his intemperance 
 which are so unnecessarily introduced into 
 the article and the poem, it is enough to say 
 that Lamb, during the greater part of his 
 life, was probably more temperate in his 
 habits than most of his contemporaries. So 
 far indeed was temperance from being then 
 
 353 z
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 generally considered the virtue that it now 
 is, that the man who on proper occasions 
 declined to indulge in the customary festivities 
 ran a serious risk of being considered an un- 
 social and unamiable companion. Intoxica- 
 tion, provided it was not habitual, was then 
 regarded as nothing more serious than 
 material for a good-humoured jest. If the 
 reader is not satisfied with this plea, let him 
 remember that a craving for stimulants is so 
 frequent an accompaniment of the literary 
 temperament that one would be almost justi- 
 fied in declaring that there is an intimate 
 if not inseparable connection between them. 
 
 SONNET ON CHARLES LAMB 
 
 BY SIR EGERTON BRYDGES 
 
 The following sonnet is now published, I 
 believe, for the first time. I copied it from 
 a manuscript of Sir Egerton Brydges, which 
 was formerly in my possession. 
 
 Of humour quaint, yet mild, benevolent. 
 Sincere, thou didst delight in fabled rhyme 
 Of older days, the mirror of the time 
 When dramatists their magic spirit spent 
 In strains that to the heart profoundly went : 
 
 354
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 Not that thy voice did as an echo chime, 
 But as if born by nature to prefer 
 The depths of Jonson or of Massinger ! 
 
 Simple in Hfe, of independent breast, 
 
 Thou hadst no pride, or vanity, or guile, 
 
 The outward lips the inward man would test, 
 Thy very soul was in thy gentle smile ! 
 
 Serene the beamings of thy being run. 
 
 And set in brightness like an autumn sun ! 
 
 ANOTHER SONNET ON LAMB 
 
 The following sonnet is from the pages of 
 a small volume, entitled " The Mahabu- 
 leshwar Hills, and other Poems, by the 
 Indian Chaplain. For Private Circulation 
 only," There is no date to the volume ; but 
 one of the poems is dated 1861 ; and I 
 should guess that the book was printed 
 some time between that date and 1870. It 
 contains a series of " Sonnets on the Poets," 
 among whom are included Mrs. Browning, 
 Mrs, Hemans, Keats, Shelley, Byron, and 
 Lamb, The sonnet on Lamb is one of the 
 best of the series ; but there is a note ap- 
 pended to it which is perhaps more interest- 
 ing than the poem, What is most notable 
 in the latter is the ingenuity which the 
 
 355
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 author displays in rhyming " weary " and 
 " dreary " with " marinci-e f He." It is true 
 that the choice of rhymes in this case was 
 rather limited: still there were "beery," 
 " bleary," " cheery," and " query " to draw 
 upon. It may be suspected also that it was 
 the exigences of rhyme which caused the 
 writer to apply the epithet " laughter- 
 f linger " to Hazlitt — surely as inapposite a 
 one as could well have been chosen. How- 
 ever, it is rather ungracious thus to find 
 fault with the poet, whose sonnet is not 
 without good feeling and pathos, whatever 
 its technical defects may be. I suppose it 
 is hardly necessary for me to say that the 
 writer was under some misapprehension as 
 to the Lambs living in their patron's kitchen. 
 They may have done so at one period ; but 
 it was certainly not there that the " awful 
 event " alluded to occurred. 
 
 CHARLES LAMB* 
 
 Long time the Poet lived of life a- weary, 
 All, all were gone, the " old familiar faces," 
 
 * See Lamb's original verses, "The Old Familiar 
 Faces," and his inimitable " Essays of Elia." He 
 died 27th December, 1834. 
 
 356
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 And of its whilom loveliness no traces 
 Lit the lone earth : with full heart sad and 
 dreary 
 He sought his friends, but empty were their 
 places, 
 " Where now he cried the Ancient Marinere ? 
 He 
 Sleeps with the dead in Christ ! time's halt- 
 less race is 
 Run out with him whose voice was like a 
 spell : 
 And where art thou, keen-thoughted laughter- 
 flinger, 
 Hazlitt, my heart's own brother ? O, farewell ! 
 
 Vainly I seek ye : Death's effacing finger 
 Hath swept ye one by one: each hallowed 
 
 spirit 
 Hath gone the land of life and love to herit, 
 Hark ! they are calling — doth Elia linger ? " 
 
 The "pensive gentility of Samuel Salt," eulo- 
 gised in an essay entitled " Old Benchers," was 
 a relative of the present Sonnetteer. Lamb's 
 parents were servants to him, and contrived to 
 scrape together no small fortune out of their 
 " indolent and procrastinating" master, Charles 
 was sent to Christ's Hospital, and afterwards 
 put in business by Mr, Salt. In the third essay, 
 speaking of himself in the third person, he 
 
 357
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON 
 
 says, " his patron lived in a manner under the 
 paternal roof," which being interpreted, is — his 
 parents lived in his patron's kitchen! In that 
 kitchen occurred the awful event which first 
 betrayed the taint of hereditary insanity in 
 Mary Lamb, and darkened her and her brother's 
 remaining years. Lovely spoken of in the " Old 
 Benchers," is Lamb, the poet's father, and Mr. 
 Salt's valet. The " narratives of Elia " are, 
 verily and confessedly, " but shadows of fact 
 — verisimilitudes, not verities." 
 
 VERSES ON LAMB 
 
 The following verses are reprinted from 
 the number of Temple Bar for July 1886. 
 To say that they are altogether adequate to 
 their subject would be saying too much for 
 them ; but I confess that to me they seem 
 much better than most of the verse-tributes 
 to the memory of Lamb, Even 'NX/'ords- 
 wortli's verses on him seem (to me, at least) 
 to strike a false note here and there ; and 
 few of the other writers who have dealt 
 with the subject have escaped the Scylla of 
 commonplace or the Charybdis of false 
 sentiment. It appears to me that the writer 
 of the following lines has happily avoided 
 
 358
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 these dangers, and has contrived to write 
 about Lamb without the effusive gush of 
 indiscriminating praise or the Pecksniffian 
 airs of the over-righteous, who, in the spirit 
 of Pope's Atticus, mingle their eulogy with 
 laments at his sad want of piety and 
 his deplorable habit of occasionally over- 
 stepping the limits of strict sobriety. 
 
 CHARLES LAMB 
 
 A small, spare man, close gaitered to the knee, 
 In suit of rusty black whose folds betray 
 The last-loved dusty folio, bought to-day, 
 And carried proudly to the sanctuary 
 Of home (and Mary's) keeping. Quaintly wise 
 In saws and knowledge of a bygone age, 
 Each old-world fancy on a yellowed page, 
 Tracked by the " smoky-brightness " of his 
 
 eyes. 
 Shone new-iilumined ; or in daring flight 
 That outvied Ariel, his spirit caught 
 The refl£7£ of a rainbowed cloud, and taught 
 The glories of a Dreamland of delight ! 
 A haunter of the bookstalls ! Even now 
 We listen for the eager, stammering speech 
 That clenched a happy bargain, — think to reach 
 And clasp those nervous fingers — watch the 
 
 brow 
 Grow lined with trouble at another's pain 
 
 359
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON CHARLES LAMB 
 
 His large-souled sympathies had made his own, 
 
 Or linger till the bitterness had flown 
 
 And low -toned laughter proved him bright 
 
 again. 
 This man's identity, so sweet, so clear. 
 Could never die with death. We do not say 
 "I should have loved him had the self-same 
 
 day 
 But found us living," but " I hold him dear 
 Now, at this moment " ; and if patient ears, 
 "Wrapped in God's silence, dimly now and then 
 Catch echoes of the grateful love of men, 
 Charles Lamb rests happily thro' all these 
 
 years. 
 
 M. E, W. 
 
 360
 
 LIST OF LAMB'S CONTRIBUTIONS 
 TO THE "LONDON MAGAZINE" 
 
 [The articles in the following list which are without a signa- 
 ture are signed "Elia" in the magazine. Those with a 
 different signature in the magazine have that signature added 
 here. Those articles which are now first attributed to Lamb 
 are distinguished by a *.] 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Recollections of the South Sea House . Vol. 2, 142 
 *Review of Bernard Barton's Poems 
 
 {No signature) . . . . . . i> ^94 
 
 Sonnet to the Author of the Poems 
 published under the name of Barry 
 
 Cornwall * * * * ,,302 
 
 To R. S. Knowles, Esq., on his Tragedy 
 
 ofVirginius. C.Lamb . . . . ,, 302 
 
 Oxford in the Vacation .... ,, 365 
 
 The Ape * * * * „ 402 
 
 Christ's Hospital Five and Thirty Years 
 
 ago 483 
 
 The Two Races of Men .... ,, 623 
 
 New Year's Eve Vol. 3, 5 
 
 Mrs. Battle's Opinions on Whist . . „ 161 
 
 *Verses to Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, 
 and Browne on their publication of 
 Wordsworth's " Excursion " in Octavo 
 {No signature) »> 165 
 
 361
 
 LAMB'S CONTRIBUTIONS TO 
 
 A Chapter on Ears 
 
 All Fool's Day 
 
 Sonnet by Charles Lamb [They talk of Time 
 
 and of Time's galling Yoke) . . . . 
 *The Confessions of H. F. V. H. Dela- 
 
 more, Esq. Henry Francis Vere Harrington 
 
 Delamore ...... 
 
 A Quakers' Meeting .... 
 
 The Old and the New Schoolmaster 
 My Relations ..... 
 
 Mackery End, in Hertfordshire 
 
 Jews, Quakers, Scotchmen, and other Im 
 
 perfect Sympathies 
 The Old Benchers of the Inner Temple 
 Witches and other Night Fears 
 Grace before Meat .... 
 
 My First Play 
 
 Dream Children. A Reverie 
 Dramatic Fragment * '^ * . 
 On some of the Old Actors 
 Distant Correspondents 
 
 The Old Actors 
 
 The Praise of Chimney Sweepers, i 
 
 May-Day Effusion .... 
 A Complaint of the Decay of Beggars in 
 
 the Metropolis .... 
 
 Detached Thoughts on Books and Read 
 
 ing 
 
 Reprints of Elia (A note in " The Lion's 
 
 Head" respecting the Reprint of his 
 
 " Confessions of a Drunkard ") 
 Confessions of a Drunkard 
 A Dissertation on Roast Pig . 
 A Bachelor's Complaint of the Behaviour 
 
 of Married People 
 
 362 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Vol. 3, 260 
 ,, 361 
 
 .. 367 
 
 »J 
 
 383 
 
 )> 
 
 384 
 
 )> 
 
 492 
 
 J> 
 
 611 
 
 Vol. 4 
 
 28 
 
 if 
 
 15a 
 
 )i 
 
 279 
 
 J) 
 
 384 
 
 91 
 
 469 
 
 )» 
 
 603 
 
 Vol. 5 
 
 21 
 
 j> 
 
 53 
 
 >> 
 
 174 
 
 )> 
 
 282 
 
 >i 
 
 305 
 
 405 
 
 1» 
 
 
 532 
 
 Vol. 
 
 6, 
 
 33 
 
 >» 
 
 
 99 
 
 ?J 
 
 
 117 
 
 >» 
 
 
 245 
 
 261
 
 THE "LONDON MAGAZINE" 
 
 PAGE 
 
 gnahire) 
 
 The Old Actors: 
 
 Mr. Suett 
 
 Mr. Munden 
 Modern Gallantry 
 The Gentle Giantess . 
 The Miscellany: 
 
 *Scraps of Criticism {No si, 
 Rejoicings on the New Year's Coming of 
 Age : Ella's Ghost ..... 
 A Character of the late Elia. By a Friend 
 The Miscellany: 
 
 *The Choice of a Grave {No signature) 
 
 *Wilks .... 
 
 *Obituary : Pietro Pinto Popolino 
 {No signature) 
 
 *Milton .... 
 
 Old China 
 
 Ritson versus John Scott the Quaker 
 
 Poor Relations .... 
 
 The Child Angel. A Dream . 
 
 The Old Margate Hoy 
 
 Nugse Criticas. By the Author of" Elia " 
 
 No. I Defence of the Sonnets of Sii 
 Philip Sydney. L. . 
 Letter of Elia to Robert Southey, Esq. 
 
 Guy Faux 
 
 Nugss Critics. By the Author of "Elia" 
 
 No. 2. Ona.Va.ss3igQ\nTheTempest. L 
 Amicus Redivivus .... 
 Blakesmoor in H — —shire 
 
 Vol. 
 
 6, 
 
 349 
 
 »J 
 
 
 350 
 
 »> 
 
 
 453 
 
 >J 
 
 
 529 
 
 563 
 
 Vol 
 
 Original Letter of James Thomson . 
 Captain Jackson .... 
 
 Biographical Memoir of Mr. Listen 
 
 {No signature) ..... Vol. 
 A Vision of Horns 
 
 363 
 
 ol. 7, 
 
 5 
 
 ») 
 
 19 
 
 »J 
 
 95 
 
 )J 
 
 97 
 
 >J 
 
 97 
 
 J» 
 
 218 
 
 )> 
 
 269 
 
 5> 
 
 445 
 
 )» 
 
 533 
 
 99 
 
 677 
 
 ol. 8, 
 
 21 
 
 )> 
 
 248 
 
 >) 
 
 400 
 
 >> 
 
 477 
 
 »> 
 
 492 
 
 ») 
 
 613 
 
 )1. 10 
 
 224 
 
 >» 
 
 463 
 
 )» 
 
 481 
 
 I, N.S 
 
 • 17 
 
 )> 
 
 29
 
 LAMB'S CONTRIBUTIONS 
 
 Letter to an Old Gentleman whose 
 
 Education has been neglected 
 Unitarian Protests : In a Letter to a 
 Friend of that Persuasion newly 
 
 Married 
 
 Autobiography of Mr. Munden 
 
 Joseph Munden .... 
 Reflections in the Pillory 
 
 Barbara S .... 
 
 The Last Peach. Suspensuvm . 
 Quatrains to the Editor of the 
 
 Everyday Book. C. Lamb 
 The Three Graves (No signature) 
 The Superannuated Man. J. D. 
 The Wedding .... 
 The Convalescent . . . 
 Imperfect Dramatic Illusion 
 *The Sorrows of an Ass {No signature) 
 *A Hint to Whist Players. Thomas Pam 
 "An Appeal from the Shades (No 
 signature) ...... 
 
 Vol. I, N.s 95 
 
 „ 183 
 
 231 
 368 
 5" 
 593 
 
 Vol. 2, 
 
 Vol. 3, 
 Vol. 4, 
 
 Vol. 5, 
 
 16 
 
 41 
 
 67 
 
 217 
 
 376 
 
 599 
 
 95 
 102 
 
 527 
 
 364
 
 INDEX 
 
 Address spoken by Miss Kelly, 189 
 
 Address to the Mwnmy at Belzoni Exhibition, 73 
 
 Adventures of Telemachus, 333-9 
 
 Adventures of Ulysses, 334 
 
 Agnus, 167 
 
 Ainger, Canon, 216, 315, 323-4 
 
 Ainsworth, W. H., 18 
 
 All Fools' Day, 217 
 
 Another Ladlcful from the Devil's Punch-bowl, 257 
 
 Appeal from the Shades, An, 140, 151 
 
 Ass, The (Sonnet on), 162 
 
 Ayton, Richard, 16 
 
 Baldwin, Cradock, and Joy, 2, 261, 262, 263 
 
 Barton, Bernard, 12, 76, 77-87, 123 
 
 Beaumont and Fletcher, 40 
 
 Benyon, Thomas, 12, 13 
 
 Blackwood's Magazine, 2, 7, 240, 255, 256, 257, 282 
 
 Blaize Fitztravesty, 257 
 
 Boccaccio, 23 
 
 Bonasoni, Julio, 21 
 
 Bonmot, Egomet, 228, 283 
 
 Booker, Luke, 88 
 
 Bowring, John, 12 
 
 Braham, John, 248 
 
 Bride, The, of Modern Italy, 221 
 
 Broad Grins Travestied, 238 
 
 Browne, Sir Thomas, 40 
 
 Brydges, Sir Egerton, 354 
 
 365
 
 INDEX 
 
 Barney's History of Music, 315 
 
 Burton, R., 40 
 
 Byron, Lord, 26, 53, 239 
 
 Campbell, J. Dykes, loi 
 Carlyle, Thomas, 16 
 Gary, Rev. H. F., 12, 13, 14 
 
 Champion, The, 4 
 
 „ Poetical Recreations of the, 5 
 Chapter on Ears, A, 249 
 Chaucer, Geoffrey, 63 
 Chesterfield, Lord, 71 
 Choice of a Grave, The, 109 
 Christie, J. H., 7, 8 
 Clare, John, 12, 37, 176, 247 
 Clarke, C. C, 315 
 Clntterbuck, Paul, 258, 261 
 Coleridge, Hartley, 12 
 
 S. T., 53, 163, 259, 296-312, 325, 349 
 Colman, George, 260 
 Confessions of a Drunkard, 49 
 Confessions of an EnglisJi Glutton, 257 
 Confessions of a Cantab, 257 
 Contes Moraux . . . tires des Tragedies de Shakespeare, 
 
 329 
 Cornelius van Vinkhoonis, 30 
 Cornivall, Barry, 13, 279 
 Coulson, The Admirable, 221 
 Country Sketches, 259 
 Cunningham, Allan, 12, 167, 216 
 
 Daisy Pie, 344 
 
 Darley, George, 16, 129 
 
 Dawe, George, 320 
 
 „ Miss, 320 
 Day at the Mill, A , 259 
 
 Death — Posthumous Memorials — Childre7i, 56 
 Decay, The, of Beggars in the Metropolis, 245 
 Delamore, H. F, V. H., The Confessions of, 92 
 
 366
 
 INDEX 
 
 Delicate Intricacies, The, 247 
 
 De Quincey, 10, 31, 120, 121, 255 
 
 Detached Thoughts on Books and Reading, 48 
 
 Drakard's News, 4 
 
 Dramatic Fragment, 99 
 
 Egomet Bonmot, 30, 228 
 
 Elton, Charles Abraham, 12, 120, 165 
 
 Enchanted Mirror, The, 331 
 
 Epistle to Elia, 168 
 
 Evening, An, with Charles Lamb and Coleridge, 2g6-'^i2 
 
 Examination of the Scliool of Southside, 255 
 
 Fancy, The, 50 
 
 First Notes of an Incipient Ballad-Metre Monger, 257 
 
 Fox, William Johnson, 294, 295 
 
 Francis, Sir Philip, 10 
 
 Fuller, Thomas, 40 
 
 Garden of Florence, The, 50 
 
 Godwin, William, 26, 323 
 
 Goethe, 18, 19 
 
 Gold's London Magazine, 245, 262 
 
 Gower, 63 
 
 Gray, Thomas, 104 
 
 Hare, J. C, 167 
 
 Haydon, B. R., 249-51 
 
 Hazlitt, William, 12, 36, 44, 119, 202-15,262, 272, 275, 
 
 290,291, 318, 321, 327, 357 
 Hazlitt, W. C, 30, 44, 47, loi, 119 
 Herbert, Edward (J. H. Reynolds), 14, 167 
 Hint, A, for Whist Players, 131, 132, 153 
 Hogarth, William, 23 
 Hone's Every Day Book, 344 
 Hone, William, 345 
 Honeycomb, W., 126 
 
 Hood, Thomas, 11, 15, 16, 17, 46, 51, 150, 153, 222 
 Home, R. H., 295 
 
 367
 
 INDEX 
 
 Howell, James, 107 
 Hume, Joseph, 44 
 
 „ Mrs., 321 
 Hunt, Leigh, 126, 221, 295 
 Hunt and Clarke, 130 
 
 Idler's, The, Epistle to John Clare, 176 
 Immortality in Embryo, 259 
 Indian Chaplain, The, 355 
 
 "Janus Weathercock," 30, 31, 32, 45, 48 
 
 Jews, Quakers, Scotchmen, and other Imperject Sym- 
 
 pat hies, 119 
 John Woodvil, 27, 100 
 
 Keats, John, 10, 24, 191, 192,251 
 Kelly, Miss, 189 
 Kemble, Charles, 321 
 
 LcbUus, 1 96 
 
 Lamb, Charles, continual references to, throughout 
 
 the volume 
 Lamb, Mary, 38, 321, 358 
 Lang, Andrew, 9 
 Last Peach, The, 122 
 Letter, A, to an old Gentleman whose education had been 
 
 neglected, 121, 122, 128, 332 
 Lichtenberg, 23, 24 
 
 Liston, Mr., Biographical Memoir of, 115 
 Literary Police Office, The, 52 
 
 Literary Ovation, The; or, the Row in an Uproar, 261-89 
 Lockhart, J. G., 7 
 London Magazine, continual references to, throughout 
 
 the volume 
 Lucas, E. v., 97 
 
 Manning, Thomas, 319, 343 
 Memoir of a Hypochondriac, 30, 254 
 Midsummer, A, Night's Dream, 257 
 
 368
 
 INDEX 
 
 Milton, John, 105, 116, 320 
 Mitford, John, 123 
 Miscellany, The, loi, 109, n8 
 Mohock Magazine, 7 
 Montgomery, James, 166 
 Monthly Repository, The, 294-328 
 Moore, Thomas, 53 
 Morning, Noon, and Night, 314 
 
 Mr. H , 339-42 
 
 Mrs. Battle's Opijiions on Whist, 131 
 Mother's Lament, The, 83 
 
 Musical Commentaries and Correspondence of the late 
 Charles Lamb, 315-22 
 
 Nelson, Lord, 321 
 
 Newcastle, Duchess of, 40 
 
 New Monthly Magazine, 240, 256 
 
 New Year's Eve, 213 
 
 Northotise's London Magazine, 340, 257 
 
 Note to Elia on the " Passage in the Tempest,'* 197 
 
 Novello, Vincent, 318 
 
 „ Clara, 318 
 Nuns, The, and Ale of Caverswell, 216 
 Nuptials in Jeopardy, 257 
 Nuptials out of Jeopardy, 257 
 
 Obituary, iii 
 
 Ode to Master Izaak Walton, 223 
 
 Old Mortality, 207 
 
 On a late Empiric of " Balmy Memory," 116 
 
 On some of the Old Actors, 120 
 
 On the Melancholy of Tailors, 215 
 
 Oxford University Magazine, 345 
 
 Past and Future, The, 213 
 Patmore, Peter George, 16, 150, 214 
 Perrin, Mons., 329 
 Peveril of the Peak, 206 
 Poet's Thanks, A , 123 
 
 369 2 A
 
 INDEX 
 
 Poole, John, 12, 15 
 
 Popolino, Pietro Pinto, 112 
 
 Precursor, A, of Lamb's " Tales from Shakespeare," 329 
 
 Procter, B. W., 12, 21, 150, 167, 192, 202, 216, 221 
 
 Praed, W. M., 131 
 
 Prodigious Success of the Dejeune, 259 
 
 QuARLES, Francis, 167 
 Quiz, Sam, 258, 259, 291 
 
 Recollections, 82 
 
 Reflections in the Pillory, 98 
 
 Reflector, The, 215 
 
 Reminiscences of Juke fudkins, 122 
 
 Reynolds, John Hamilton, 12, 50, 5i> 167, 188 
 
 Rickman, John, 151 
 
 Robinson, H. C, 188 
 
 Rogers, Samuel, 53 
 
 Rosamund Gray, 25, 26, 324 
 
 Salt, Samuel, 357 
 
 Scott, John, 3, 8, 129, 212, 261, 262 
 
 Scott, Sir Walter, 53, 205-212 
 
 Scraps of Criticism, 102-9 
 
 Shakespeare, 59, 106, 329 
 
 Smith, Horace, 12, 55, 149 
 
 Soane, George, 12 . ^ , „ . 
 
 " Some Passages " in the Life, &c., of Egomet Bonmot, 
 
 228 
 Songe to Fancy, 277 
 Sorrows of an Ass, 153-62 
 Southern, Henry, 130 
 Southey, Robert, 53, 129 
 Stanzas addressed to Percy Bysshe Shelley, 86 
 Stories after Nature, 343 
 
 Talfourd, T. N., 5 
 
 Taylor and Hessey, 10, 19, 125 
 
 Taylor, John, 49, 119 
 
 370
 
 INDEX 
 
 Temple Bar, 358 
 Thelwall, John, 4 
 
 Tickler, The, 255 
 
 To Charles Lamb (Verses by Gary), 181 
 
 To Elia (Sonnet by Bernard Barton), 185 
 
 To Elia (Sonnet, anonymous), 185 
 
 Traditional Tales, 1 5 
 
 Twelfth Night, or What you will, 216 
 
 Valentine's Day, 216 
 
 Verses to Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 89 
 
 Vision of Horns, A, 12% 
 
 Voltaire, 352 
 
 Voyage, The, 114 
 
 Wainwright, Thomas Griffiths, 16, 21, 38,32-43, 4^ 
 
 124, 227-58, 289, 290, 292 
 Webster, John, 277, 291, 322 
 Wells, C, 343 
 Wilks, John, 1 11, 115 
 Winter Evening's Fireside The, 259 
 Wordsworth, William, (3, 32, 53> 8i« 89-91, 120,250^ 
 
 255, 321 
 
 Y , S , 295-314 
 
 Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co. 
 London & Edinburgh
 
 Bookj Written or Edited by 
 Bertram Dob ell 
 
 Small 4to, cloth extra, finely printed on 
 hand-made paper, ys. 6d. 
 
 THE POETICAL WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 THOMAS TRAHERNE, B.D. 
 
 1636?-! 674 
 
 Now first published from the original Manuscripts 
 
 The discovery of the poems contained in the 
 above volume, after they had remained unknown 
 and unregarded for more than two centuries and 
 a quarter, is one of the most remarkable literary 
 events of recent times. They are the work of a 
 truly fine poet and prose-writer, whose productions 
 will henceforth take their place beside those of 
 Herbert, Vaughan, and Crashaw, and will be
 
 ^ooks Written or Edited by Bertram B obeli 
 
 equally valued by all who care for the writings of 
 those poets. They were, in fact, believed by the 
 late Dr.Grosart to be the work of Henry Vaughan, 
 and he was, at the time of his death, preparing to 
 publish them as the work of the Silurist. It has 
 been my good fortune to discover their real author, 
 and thus to add a new name to the long roll of 
 illustrious English poets. Traherne was a very 
 interesting character as well as a fine poet. His 
 manuscripts, which are now in my possession, 
 give many details of his private life ; and from 
 these and other sources I have been able to com- 
 pile a fuller account of him than might have 
 been expected. 
 
 ROSEMARY AND PANSIES 
 
 " There's rosemary for yoUy that's for remembrance; 
 pray, love, remember: and there's pansies, thafs for 
 thoughts." — Hamlet, Act iv. so. v. 
 
 Early in 1901 I printed an edition of seventy- 
 five copies only of the above volume of poems 
 for private circulation. The book having been 
 received with much more favour than I expected, 
 I have determined to reprint it, though with a 
 good many omissions and large additions. The 
 book will be published in April or May next. 
 The price to subscribers will not exceed half a 
 crown.
 
 'Books Written or Edited by Bertram Dobell 
 
 THOMSON'S (JAMES " B.V.") 
 
 POETICAL WORKS 
 
 With Memoir and Portrait. 2 vols., post 8vo, 
 
 I2S. 6d. 
 
 THOMSON'S (JAMES) THE CITY 
 
 OF DREADFUL NIGHT 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 l6mo, cloth, 3s. 6d. j or in parchment binding 
 gilt top, 5s. 
 
 THOMSON'S (JAMES) BIOGRAPHI- 
 CAL AND CRITICAL STUDIES 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. 
 
 THOMSON'S (JAMES) SHELLEY 
 
 A POEM 
 
 With other Writings relating to Shelley, and an 
 Essay on the Poems of William Blake 
 
 [Out of print
 
 'Books Written or Edited by Bertram Dobell 
 
 GOLDSMITH'S (OLIVER) A 
 
 PROSPECT OF SOCIETY 
 
 Now first printed from the unique original ; with 
 
 an Introduction and Notes. Small 4to 
 
 buckram, 2s. 6d. 
 
 SHELLEY'S (P. B.) ALASTOR 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 A Facsimile Reprint. Edited for the 
 Shelley Society 
 
 SHELLEY'S (P. B.) THE 
 WANDERING JEW 
 
 Edited for the Shelley Society 
 
 THE ELI A LIBRART 
 
 This Series, so named because it will consist only of works 
 which Charles Lamb would have valued and taken an interest 
 in, will comprise Old Plays, Poems, and Prose Writings of the 
 Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries. Among the Old Plays 
 will be several which have never before been printed. The Series 
 will not include any works which are now in print, or which 
 can be easily obtained. 
 
 Detailed Prospectuses will be ready shortly
 
 ,S.U™,",fJ RFGIOrjAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 000 256 159
 
 . ■^■:^•:•;-.*•*iVpy 
 
 
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