The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb
Chapter 357 : began with a reference to _Rosamund Gray_. I quote the pa.s.sage containing the turgid

began with a reference to _Rosamund Gray_. I quote the pa.s.sage containing the turgid example.

Let us return to an instance of common life. I quote it with reluctance, not so much for its absurdity as that the expression in one place will strike at first sight as little less than impious; and it is indeed, though unintentionally so, most irreverent. But I know no other example that will so forcibly ill.u.s.trate the important truth I wish to establish. The following epitaph is to be found in a church-yard in Westmoreland; which the present Writer has reason to think of with interest as it contains the remains of some of his ancestors and kindred. The date is 1673.

"Under this Stone, Reader, inter'd doth lye, Beauty and Virtue's true epitomy.

At her appearance the noone-son Blush'd and shrunk in 'cause quite outdon.

In her concentered did all graces dwell: G.o.d pluck'd my rose that He might take a smel.

I'll say no more: but weeping wish I may Soone with thy dear chaste ashes com to lay.

Sic efflevit Maritus."

Can anything go beyond this in extravagance? yet, if the fundamental thoughts be translated into a natural style, they will be found reasonable and affecting--"The woman who lies here interred, was in my eyes a perfect image of beauty and virtue; she was to me a brighter object than the sun in heaven: G.o.d took her, who was my delight, from this earth to bring her nearer to Himself. Nothing further is worthy to be said than that weeping I wish soon to lie by thy dear chaste ashes.

Thus did the husband pour out his tears."

Wordsworth wrote an epitaph on Lamb, but it was too long to be used. A few lines are now on the tablet in Edmonton Church.

Lamb had begun his criticisms of churchyard epitaphs very early: Talfourd tells that, when quite a little boy, after reading a number of flattering inscriptions, he asked Mary Lamb where all the bad people were buried.]

LETTER 191

MARY LAMB TO MISS WORDSWORTH

[P.M. November 13, 1810.]

My dear friend--My brother's letter, which I did not see, I am sure has distressed you sadly. I was then so ill as to alarm him exceedingly, and he thought me quite incapable of any kind of business. It is a great mortification to me to be such an useless creature, and I feel myself greatly indebted to you for the very kind manner in which you take this ungracious matter: but I will say no more on this unpleasant subject. I am at present under the care of Dr. Tuthill. I think I have derived great benefit from his medicines. He has also made a water drinker of me, which, contrary to my expectations, seems to agree with me very well.

I very much regret that you were so untimely s.n.a.t.c.hed away; the lively recollection you seem to retain of London scenes will I hope induce you to return, in happier times, for I must still hope for better days.

We have had many pleasant hours with Coleridge,--if I had not known how ill he is I should have had no idea of it, for he has been very chearful. But yet I have no good news to send you of him, for two days ago, when I saw him last, he had not begun his course of medicine & regimen under Carlisle. I have had a very chearful letter from Mrs.

Clarkson. She complained a little of your friend Tom, but she says she means to devote the winter to the task of new molding him, I am afraid she will find it no easy task.

Mrs. Montague was very sorry to find you gone. I have not seen much of her, for I have kept very much at home since her return. I mean to stay at home and keep early hours all this winter.

I have a new maid coming this evening. Betty, that you left here, went from me last week, and I took a girl lately from the country, who was fetched away in a few days by her sister, who took it into her head that the Temple was an improper place for a girl to live in. I wish the one that is coming may suit me. She is seven & twenty, with a very plain person, therefore I may hope she will be in little danger here.

Henry Robinson, and many other friends that you made here, enquire continually after you. The Spanish lady is gone, and now poor Robinson is left quite forlorn.

The streets remind me so much of you that I wish for you every showy shop I pa.s.s by. I hope we had many pleasant fireside hours together, but I almost fear the stupid dispirited state I was in made me seem a very flat companion; but I know I listened with great pleasure to many interesting conversations. I thank you for what you have done for Phillips, his fate will be decided in about a week. He has lately breakfasted with Sir Joseph Banks, who received him with great civility but made him no promise of support. Sir Joseph told him a new candidate had started up who it was expected would be favoured by the council. I am afraid Phillips stands a very poor chance.

I am doing nothing, I wish I was, for if I were once more busily employed at work, I should be more satisfied with myself. I should not feel so helpless, & so useless.

I hope you will write soon, your letters give me great pleasure; you have made me so well acquainted with all your household, that I must hope for frequent accounts how you are all going on. Remember us affectionately to your brother & sister. I hope the little Katherine continues mending. G.o.d bless you all & every one.

Your affectionate friend

M. LAMB.

Nov'r. 13, 1810.

LETTER 192

CHARLES LAMB TO Miss WORDSWORTH

(_Added to same letter_)

Mary has left a little s.p.a.ce for me to fill up with nonsense, as the Geographers used to cram monsters in the voids of their maps & call it Terra Incognita. She has told you how she has taken to water, like a hungry otter. I too limp after her in lame imitation, but it goes against me a little _at first_. I have been _aquavorous_ now for full four days, and it seems a moon. I am full of cramps & rheumatisms, and cold internally so that fire won't warm me, yet I bear all for virtues sake. Must I then leave you, Gin, Rum, Brandy, Aqua Vitae--pleasant jolly fellows--d.a.m.n Temperance and them that first invented it, some Anti Noahite. Coleridge has powdered his head, and looks like Bacchus, Bacchus ever sleek and young. He is going to turn sober, but his Clock has not struck yet, meantime he pours down goblet after goblet, the 2d to see where the 1st is gone, the 3d to see no harm happens to the second, a fourth to say there's another coming, and a 5th to say he's not sure he's the last. William Henshaw is dead. He died yesterday, aged 56. It was but a twelvemonth or so back that his Father, an ancient Gunsmith & my G.o.dfather, sounded me as to my willingness to be guardian to this William in case of his (the old man's) death. William had three times broke in business, twice in England, once in t'other Hemisphere.

He returned from America a sot & hath liquidated all debts. What a hopeful ward I am rid of. aetatis 56. I must have taken care of his morals, seen that he did not form imprudent connections, given my consent before he could have married &c. From all which the stroke of death hath relieved me. Mrs. Reynolds is the name of the Lady to whom I will remember you to-morrow. Farewell. Wish me strength to continue.

I've been eating jugg'd Hare. The toast & water makes me quite sick.

C. LAMB.

[After the preceding letter Mary Lamb had been taken ill--but not, I think, mentally--and Dorothy Wordsworth's visit was put off.

Coleridge, _The Friend_ having ceased, had come to London with the Montagus on October 26 to stay with them indefinitely at 55 Frith Street, Soho. But a few days after his arrival Montagu had inadvisedly repeated what he unjustifiably called a warning phrase of Wordsworth's concerning Coleridge's difficult habits as a guest--the word "nuisance"

being mentioned--and this had so plunged Coleridge in grief that he left Soho for Hammersmith, where his friends the Morgans were living.

Montagu's indiscretion led to a quarrel between Coleridge and Wordsworth which was long of healing. This is no place in which to tell the story, which has small part in Lamb's life; but it led to one of the few letters from Coleridge to Lamb that have been preserved (see Mr. E.H.

Coleridge's edition of Coleridge's _Letters_, page 586).

Carlisle was Sir Anthony Carlisle (1768-1840), the surgeon and a friend of Lamb.

"The Spanish lady"--Madam Lavaggi. See Robinson's _Diary_, 1869, Vol.

I., page 303.

"Phillips." This would be Ned Phillips, I presume, not the Colonel. I have not discovered for what post he was trying.

"The little Katherine." Catherine Wordsworth, born September 6, 1808, lived only until June 4, 1812.

"I have been _aquavorous_." Writing to Dorothy Wordsworth on December 23 Crabb Robinson says that Lamb has abstained from alcohol and tobacco since Lord Mayor's Day (November 9).

"William Henshaw." I know nothing more of this unfortunate man.]

LETTER 193

MARY LAMB TO MISS WORDSWORTH

[P.M. Nov. 23, 1810.]

My dear Friend, Miss Monkhouse left town yesterday, but I think I am able to answer all your enquiries. I saw her on Sunday evening at Mrs.

Montagu's. She looked very well & said her health was greatly improved.