The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb
Chapter 179 : Page 316. MRS. LEICESTER'S SCHOOL.This charming little book was published by Mrs.

Page 316. MRS. LEICESTER'S SCHOOL.

This charming little book was published by Mrs. G.o.dwin at the end of 1808, dated 1809, with no author's name attached. Besides, however, ample internal evidence as to its authors.h.i.+p, there are many references to it in Lamb's letters. Why it was issued anonymously we cannot now learn; probably, as I have suggested, from Mary Lamb's unwillingness to have her name in print. The _Tales from Shakespear_, it will be remembered, were described always as being by Charles Lamb, although Mary did far more than half, and it was at the outset her book. Her share of _Mrs. Leicester's School_ was equally great, and a sentence in one of her letters to Sarah Stoddart suggests that it was hers in inception also: "I have been busy making waistcoats, and plotting new work to succeed the _Tales_." Possibly it was because his share in the book was so small that Lamb refused to sign _Mrs.

Leicester's School_ as he had the _Tales from Shakespear_; possibly he had other reasons, the t.i.tle-page of his _Dramatic Specimens_ being one of them. When, a little while afterwards, the _Poetry for Children_ was published, it was stated to be "by the author of _Mrs.

Leicester's School_," while several of the poems when reprinted by Mylius (see notes below) were signed Mrs. Leicester. Thus, Mary Lamb's last chance of seeing her name on a t.i.tle-page vanished. But we may feel confident that her own wishes were consulted in the matter.

Lamb's share in _Mrs. Leicester's School_ we know from a letter to Bernard Barton (January 23, 1824): "My Sister's part in the Leicester School (about two thirds) was purely her own; as it was (to the same quant.i.ty) in the Shakspeare Tales which bear my name. I wrote only the Witch Aunt, the first going to Church, and the final Story, about a little Indian girl in a s.h.i.+p."

The little book was well received, and was quietly popular for some years, running into eight editions by 1823. I imagine, however, that it was little known between 1830 and the end of the century. Latterly there has been a revival in interest. One or two critics have touched rapturous heights in their praise. Landor wrote to Crabb Robinson in April, 1831:--

It is now several days since I read the book you recommended to me, "Mrs. Leicester's School;" and I feel as if I owed you a debt in deferring to thank you for many hours of exquisite delight.

Never have I read anything in prose so many times over within so short a s.p.a.ce of time as "The Father's Wedding-day." Most people, I understand, prefer the first tale--in truth a very admirable one--but others could have written it. Show me the man or woman, modern or ancient, who could have written this one sentence: "When I was dressed in my new frock, I wished poor mamma was alive, to see how fine I was on papa's wedding day; and I ran to my favourite station at her bedroom door." How natural, in a little girl, is this incongruity--this impossibility! Richardson would have given his "Clarissa," and Rousseau his "Helose" to have imagined it. A fresh source of the pathetic bursts out before us, and not a bitter one. If your Germans can show us anything comparable to what I have transcribed, I would almost undergo a year's gargle of their language for it. The story is admirable throughout--incomparable, inimitable....

Landor wrote to Lady Blessington to the same effect. Praise of this book is so pleasant to read that I quote his second letter too:--

One of her tales is, with the sole exception of the _Bride of Lammermoor_, the most beautiful tale in prose composition in any language, ancient or modern. A young girl has lost her mother, the father marries again, and marries a friend of his former wife. The child is ill reconciled to it, but being dressed in new clothes for the marriage, she runs up to her mother's chamber, filled with the idea how happy that dear mother would be at seeing her in all her glory--not reflecting, poor soul! that it was only by her mother's death that she appeared in it. How natural, how novel is all this! Did you ever imagine that a fresh source of the pathetic would burst forth before us in this trodden and hardened world? I never did, and when I found myself upon it, I pressed my temples with both hands, and tears ran down to my elbows.

And Coleridge remarked to Allsop:--

It at once soothes and amuses me to think--nay, to know--that the time will come when this little volume of my dear and well-nigh oldest friend, Mary Lamb, will be not only enjoyed but acknowledged as a rich jewel in the treasury of our permanent English literature; and I cannot help running over in my mind the long list of celebrated writers, astonis.h.i.+ng geniuses, Novels, Romances, Poems, Histories and dense Political Economy quartos which, compared with _Mrs. Leicester's School_, will be remembered as often and prized as highly as Wilkie's and Glover's _Epics_ and Lord Bolingbroke's _Philosophies_ compared with _Robinson Crusoe_.

I have set up the book from the second edition, 1809, because the Lambs' final text is probably to be found there. Although certain additional minor differences were made in the eighth and ninth editions, 1821 and 1825, I think it very unlikely that they were made by Mary or Charles Lamb. The princ.i.p.al alteration between the second and first editions is page 317, line 6, "your eyes were red with weeping," for "The traces of tears might still be seen on your cheeks." The other differences are very slight, mostly being in punctuation, but there are also a few changes of word. I leave these, however, to the Bibliographer.

The eighth edition was furnished with the following preface; which, though it is signed "The Author," is not, I think, from either Mary or Charles Lamb's pen. I rather suspect Mrs. G.o.dwin.

"Tell me a story, Mamma," was almost the first request my own child made me when she understood the meaning of a story, and I soon discovered I had no easier method of managing a very difficult temper than by adapting my stories to the errors she committed, or the good qualities she announced; but as I found it a very difficult and troublesome task to repeat the same story precisely the same each time, and as a sensible child, even at so early a period as three years of age, will remember where the narrator forgets, and never fail to detect the mistakes of the second repet.i.tion, I came to the resolution to print a small collection of stories for very young children, composed merely of circ.u.mstances incidental to their age.

The great error of many juvenile books is their deviation from truth; and as so much is absolutely necessary to be taught, why add to the labour by impressing false ideas on the mind of an infant, and thus lose the opportunity of making amus.e.m.e.nt the vehicle to convey instruction? A Mother only is, perhaps, capable of adapting stories to the capacities of very young Children; for a Mother only watches the unfolding of their ideas, and the bent of their dispositions. If one good Mother finds these tales of service to her in her arduous but pleasing task, my purpose will be answered.

It is stated that a French version of _Mrs. Leicester's School_, under the t.i.tle _Les Jeunes Pensionnaires_, was published. I have seen, however, only _Pet.i.ts Conies a l'usage de la Feunesse traduits de l'Anglais par M'me M. D'Avot_, 1823, which contains "Elisabeth Villiers, ou l'Oncle marin," "Charlotte Wilmot," "Marguerite Green, ou la jeune Mahometane," and "Arabella Hardy, ou la Traversee."

_Mrs. Leicester's School_ calls for little annotation, except for the purpose of relating the stories to the lives of their writers; for it contains some very valuable autobiographical matter. But there are a few minor points too.

Page 316. _Dedication_.

In the choice of Amwell School as the name of Mrs. Leicester's establishment Mary (or Charles) returned after an inveterate Lamb habit to the old Hertfords.h.i.+re days. Amwell, where the New River rises, is only a few miles from Widford and Blakesware. The signature to the dedication, "M.B.," may have been a little joke for the amus.e.m.e.nt of Martin Burney, who had taken such interest in the progress of the _Tales from Shakespear_ and was in those days a special favourite with Mary Lamb.

Page 319. I.--_Elizabeth Villiers_. "The Sailor Uncle."

By Mary Lamb. The story of the little girl learning her letters from her mother's grave may have belonged to Widford churchyard; otherwise there seems to be no personal memory here.

Page 328. II.--_Louisa Manners_. "The Farm House."

By Mary Lamb. Much of the description of the farm and country is probably from memory of the old days at Mackery End, where we know Mary Lamb to have gone with her little brother Charles some time about 1780, and perhaps herself earlier. It is, however, possible that Blakesware is meant, since Mary Lamb speaks of the grandmother: Mrs. Bruton of Mackery End was her great aunt. One feels that the grandmother's sorrow at not being remembered (on page 329) is from life; and also the episode with Will Tasker (on the same page), and the description (and probably the name) of Old Spot, the shepherd, on page 333.

Page 334. III.--_Ann Withers_. "The Changeling."

By Mary Lamb. In one of the later editions of this story certain small changes were made, not, I fancy, by Mary Lamb. For example, on page 349, line 19, the sentence was made to read: "Neither dancing, nor any foolish lectures, could do much for Miss Lesley, she remained _for some time_ wanting in gracefulness of carriage; but all that is usually attributed to dancing music _finally effected_." The italics indicate the additions of the nice editorial hand.

Page 350. IV.--_Elinor Forester_. "The Father's Wedding Day."

By Mary Lamb. It is this story which Landor so much admired (see above). The pretty song, "Balow, my babe," was probably "Ann Bothwell's Lament," beginning "Balow, my boy."

Page 354. V.--_Margaret Green_. "The Young Mahometan."

By Mary Lamb, and perhaps her most perfect work. Here we have a description of Blakesware, the home of the Plumers, which for many years was uninhabited by the family, and left from 1778 to 1792 in the sole charge of Mrs. Field, Charles and Mary's maternal grandmother.

Charles, since he was born in 1775, would on his visits have known no power superior to his grandmother; but Mary, who was born in 1764, would have occasionally encountered Mrs. Plumer, just as Margaret Green met Mrs. Beresford. Probably Mrs. Plumer and Mrs. Beresford were very like. Probably also Mrs. Field maintained silence with her grandchild, for we know that neither she nor her daughter rightly understood Mary Lamb. Mrs. Field used to speak of her "poor moythered brains." Mary's description of the old house should be compared with Charles's in the _Elia_ essays "Blakesmoor in H----s.h.i.+re" and "Dream-Children." In one point they are at variance; for Mary says that the twelve Caesars "hung" round the hall, and her brother that they were life-size busts. I have the authority of a gentleman who remembers them at Gilston, whither they were removed, for saying that Charles Lamb's memory was the more accurate. The picture of the little girl with a lamb seems to have made an equal impression on both their minds; and both mention the shuttlec.o.c.ks on the table.

Page 360. VI.--_Emily Barton_. "Visit to the Cousins."

By Mary Lamb. Possibly autobiographical in the matter of the first play. Charles Lamb's first play was the opera "Artaxerxes;" Mary's may quite well have been Congreve's "Mourning Bride." The book-shop at the corner of St. Paul's Churchyard would be Harris's (late Newbery's); that in Skinner Street (No. 41) was, of course, G.o.dwin's, where _Mrs.

Leicester's School_ was published and sold. This pleasant art of advertising one's wares in one's own children's books was brought to perfection by Newbery, and by Harris, his successor, whose tiny histories are full of reminders of the merits of the corner of St.

Paul's Churchyard. By making Mr. Barton hesitate between the two shops and then go to Mrs. G.o.dwin's, Lamb (for here it was probably he and not his sister) carried the joke a step farther than Newbery.

The following account of the figures on old St. Dunstan's Church (the children of to-day are taken to Cheapside to see Bennett's clock) is given in Hughson's _London_ (1805):--

On the outside of the church, within a niche and pediment at the south-west end, over the clock, are two figures of savages or wild men, carved in wood, and painted natural colour, as big as the life, standing erect, with each a knotty club in his hand, with which they alternately strike the quarters, not only their arms, but even their heads, moving at every blow.

Moxon tells us that when the old church was pulled down and the figures were removed, Lamb shed tears. The figures I am told still exist in the garden of the villa in Regent's Park--"St.

Dunstan's"--that once belonged to the Marquis of Hertford and is now the Earl of Londesborough's London House.

Miss Pearson kept a toy-shop at No. 7 Fleet Street. The Lambs knew her through Charles's old schoolmistress, Mrs. Reynolds.

Page 368. VII.--_Maria Howe_. "The Witch Aunt."

By Charles Lamb. This story is peculiarly interesting to students of Lamb's life, for it describes, probably with absolute fidelity, his Aunt Hetty, and elaborates the pa.s.sage concerning Stackhouse's _New History of the Bible_, which is to be found in the _Elia_ essay "Witches and other Night Fears." Aunt Hetty is described elsewhere by Lamb in his _Elia_ essays, "Christ's Hospital" and "My Relations;" and in the poem "Written on the Day of my Aunt's Funeral." In Mary Lamb's letter to Sarah Stoddart on September 21, 1803, is a short pa.s.sage corroborative of Lamb's account of the relations subsisting between his aunt and his parents:--

My father had a sister lived with us--of course, lived with my Mother, her sister-in-law; they were, in their different ways, the best creatures in the world--but they set out wrong at first. They made each other miserable for full twenty years of their lives--my Mother was a perfect gentlewoman, my Aunty as unlike a gentlewoman as you can possibly imagine a good old woman to be; so that my dear Mother (who, though you do not know it, is always in my poor head and heart) used to distress and weary her with incessant and unceasing attention and politeness, to gain her affection. The old woman could not return this in kind, and did not know what to make of it--thought it all deceit, and used to hate my Mother with a bitter hatred; which, of course, was soon returned with interest.

Lamb told Coleridge, in a letter upon his aunt's death, "she was to me the 'cherisher of infancy.'"

In the _Elia_ essay on "Witches" no mention is made of Glanvil; but there is a pa.s.sage in the unpublished version of _John Woodvil_ which mentions both it and Stackhouse:--

I can remember when a child the maids Would place me on their lap, as they undrest me, As silly women use, and tell me stories Of Witches--Make me read "Glanvil on Witchcraft,"

And in conclusion show me in the Bible, The old Family-Bible, with the pictures in it, The 'graving of the Witch raising up Samuel, Which so possest my fancy, being a child, That nightly in my dreams an old Hag came And sat upon my pillow.

That was written some eight or nine years earlier than "Maria Howe;"

the essay on "Witches" some fifteen years later. Joseph Glanvill (1636-1680) issued his _Philosophical Considerations touching Witches and Witchcraft_, in 1666.

Page 375. VIII.--_Charlotte Wilmot_. "The Merchant's Daughter."

By Mary Lamb.

Page 378. IX.--_Susan Yates_. "First Going to Church."

By Charles Lamb. John Lamb, the father, came from Lincolns.h.i.+re, but Charles did not know that county at all. The remark, "to see how goodness thrived," may well have been John Lamb's, or possibly his father's; and Lamb's own first impressions of church, probably acquired at the Temple (which he mentions here by comparison), were, it is easy to believe, identical with the imaginary narrator's. Church bells seem always to have had an attraction for him: he has a pretty reference to them in _John Woodvil_, and a little poem in _Blank Verse_, 1798, ent.i.tled "The Sabbath Bells."