The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb
Chapter 314 : Lamb's visit to Cambridge was deferred until January 5, 1801.]LETTER 70 CHARLES L

Lamb's visit to Cambridge was deferred until January 5, 1801.]

LETTER 70

CHARLES LAMB TO THOMAS MANNING [P.M. Nov. 3, 1800.]

_Ecquid meditatur Archimedes?_ What is Euclid doing? What has happened to learned Trismegist?--Doth he take it in ill part, that his humble friend did not comply with his courteous invitation? Let it suffice, I could not come--are impossibilities nothing--be they abstractions of the intellects or not (rather) most sharp and mortifying realities? nuts in the Will's mouth too hard for her to crack? brick and stone walls in her way, which she can by no means eat through? sore lets, _impedimenta viarum_, no thoroughfares? _racemi nimium alte pendentes_? Is the phrase cla.s.sic? I allude to the grapes in Aesop, which cost the fox a strain, and gained the world an aphorism. Observe the superscription of this letter. In adapting the size of the letters, which const.i.tute _your_ name and Mr. _Crisp's_ name respectively, I had an eye to your different stations, in life. 'Tis really curious, and must be soothing to an _aristocrat_. I wonder it has never been hit on before my time. I have made an acquisition latterly of a _pleasant hand_, one Rickman, to whom I was introduced by George Dyer, not the most flattering auspices under which one man can be introduced to another. George brings all sorts of people together, setting up a sort of agrarian law, or common property, in matter of society; but for once he has done me a great pleasure, while he was only pursuing a principle, as _ignes fatui may_ light you home. This Rickman lives in our Buildings, immediately opposite our house; the finest fellow to drop in a' nights, about nine or ten o'clock--cold bread-and-cheese time--just in the _wis.h.i.+ng_ time of the night, when you _wish_ for somebody to come in, without a distinct idea of a probable anybody. Just in the nick, neither too early to be tedious, nor too late to sit a reasonable time. He is a most pleasant hand: a fine rattling fellow, has gone through life laughing at solemn apes; himself hugely literate, oppressively full of information in all stuff of conversation, from matter of fact to Xenophon and Plato--can talk Greek with Porson, politics with Thelwall, conjecture with George Dyer, nonsense with me, and anything with anybody: a great farmer, somewhat concerned in an agricultural magazine--reads no poetry but Shakspeare, very intimate with Southey, but never reads his poetry: relishes George Dyer, thoroughly penetrates into the ridiculous wherever found, understands the _first time_ (a great desideratum in common minds)--you need never twice speak to him; does not want explanations, translations, limitations, as Professor G.o.dwin does when you make an a.s.sertion: _up_ to anything, _down_ to everything--whatever _sapit hominem_. A perfect _man_. All this farrago, which must perplex you to read, and has put me to a little trouble to _select_, only proves how impossible it is to describe a _pleasant hand_. You must see Rickman to know him, for he is a species in one. A new cla.s.s. An exotic, any slip of which I am proud to put in my garden-pot. The clearest-headed fellow.

Fullest of matter with least verbosity. If there be any alloy in my fortune to have met with such a man, it is that he commonly divides his time between town and country, having some foolish family ties at Christchurch, by which means he can only gladden our London hemisphere with returns of light. He is now going for six weeks.

At last I have written to Kemble, to know the event of my play, which was presented last Christmas. As I suspected, came an answer back that the copy was lost, and could not be found--no hint that anybody had to this day ever looked into it--with a courteous (reasonable!) request of another copy (if I had one by me,) and a promise of a definite answer in a week. I could not resist so facile and moderate a demand, so scribbled out another, omitting sundry things, such as the witch story, about half of the forest scene (which is too leisurely for story), and transposing that d.a.m.n'd soliloquy about England getting drunk, which, like its reciter, stupidly stood alone, nothing prevenient or antevenient, and cleared away a good deal besides; and sent this copy, written _all out_ (with alterations, &c., _requiring judgment_) in one day and a half! I sent it last night, and am in weekly expectation of the tolling-bell and death-warrant.

This is all my Lunnon news. Send me some from the _banks of Cam_, as the poets delight to speak, especially George Dyer, who has no other name, nor idea, nor definition of Cambridge: namely, its being a market-town, sending members to Parliament, never entered into his definition: it was and is, simply, the banks of the Cam or the fair Cam, as Oxford is the banks of the Isis or the fair Isis. Yours in all humility, most ill.u.s.trious Trismegist,

C. LAMB.

(Read on; there's more at the bottom.)

You ask me about the "Farmer's Boy"--don't you think the fellow who wrote it (who is a shoemaker) has a poor mind? Don't you find he is always silly about _poor Giles_, and those abject kind of phrases, which mark a man that looks up to wealth? None of Burns's poet-dignity. What do you think? I have just opened him; but he makes me sick. Dyer knows the shoemaker (a d.a.m.n'd stupid hound in company); but George promises to introduce him indiscriminately to all friends and all combinations.

[Mr. Crisp was Manning's landlord, a barber in St. Mary's Pa.s.sage, Cambridge. In one letter at least Lamb spells his name Crips--a joke he was fond of.

"Rickman" was John Rickman (1771-1840), already a friend of Southey's, whom he had met at Burton, near Christchurch, in Hamps.h.i.+re, where Rickman's father lived. A graduate of Lincoln College, Oxford, he was at this time secretary to Charles Abbot, afterwards Lord Colchester. He had conducted the _Commercial, Agricultural_, and Manufacturer's Magazine, and he was practically the originator of the census in England. We shall meet with him often in the correspondence.

Kemble was John Philip Kemble, then manager of Drury Lane. The play was "John Woodvil." For an account of the version which Lamb submitted, see the Notes to Vol. IV.

George Dyer wrote a _History of Cambridge University_.

George Daniel, the antiquary and bookseller, tells us that many years later he took Bloomfield to dine with Lamb at Islington.]

LETTER 71

CHARLES LAMB TO THOMAS MANNING

[P.M. Nov. 28, 1800.]

Dear Manning,--I have received a very kind invitation from Lloyd and Sophia to go and spend a month with them at the Lakes. Now it fortunately happens (which is so seldom the case!) that I have spare cash by me, enough to answer the expenses of so long a journey; and I am determined to get away from the office by some means. The purpose of this letter is to request of you (my dear friend) that you will not take it unkind if I decline my proposed visit to Cambridge _for the present_.

Perhaps I shall be able to take Cambridge _in my way_, going or coming.

I need not describe to you the expectations which such an one as myself, pent up all my life in a dirty city, have formed of a tour to the Lakes.

Consider Grasmere! Ambleside! Wordsworth! Coleridge! I hope you will.*

Hills, woods, lakes, and mountains, to the eternal devil. I will eat snipes with thee, Thomas Manning. Only confess, confess, a _bite_.

_P.S._ I think you named the 16th; but was it not modest of Lloyd to send such an invitation! It shows his knowledge of money and time. I would be loth to think he meant

"Ironic satire sidelong sklented On my poor pursie."--BURNS.

For my part, with reference to my friends northward, I must confess that I am not romance-bit about _Nature_. The earth, and sea, and sky (when all is said) is but as a house to dwell in. If the inmates be courteous, and good liquors flow like the conduits at an old coronation; if they can talk sensibly and feel properly; I have no need to stand staring upon the gilded looking-gla.s.s (that strained my friend's purse-strings in the purchase), nor his five-s.h.i.+lling print over the mantelpiece of old Nabbs the carrier (which only betrays his false taste). Just as important to me (in a sense) is all the furniture of my world-- eye-pampering, but satisfies no heart. Streets, streets, streets, markets, theatres, churches, Covent Gardens, shops sparkling with pretty faces of industrious milliners, neat sempstresses, ladies cheapening, gentlemen behind counters lying, authors in the street with spectacles, George Dyers (you may know them by their gait), lamps lit at night, pastry-cooks' and silver-smiths' shops, beautiful Quakers of Pentonville, noise of coaches, drowsy cry of mechanic watchman at night, with bucks reeling home drunk; if you happen to wake at midnight, cries of Fire and Stop thief; inns of court, with their learned air, and halls, and b.u.t.teries, just like Cambridge colleges; old book-stalls, Jeremy Taylors, Burtons on Melancholy, and Religio Medicis on every stall. These are thy pleasures, O London with-the-many-sins. O City abounding in wh.o.r.es, for these may Keswick and her giant brood go hang!

C. L.

[Charles Lloyd had just settled at Old Brathay, about three miles from Ambleside.

Manning's reply to this letter indicates that Lamb's story of the invitation to stay with Lloyd was a hoax. The first page, ended where I have put the *asterisk--as in the letter, to Gutch. Manning writes: "N.B. Your lake story completely took me in till I got to the 2d page. I was pleased to think you were so rich, but I confess rather wondered how you should be able conveniently to take so long a journey this inside-fare time of the year."

Manning also says: "I condole, with you, Mr. Lamb, on the tragic fate of your tragedie--I wonder what fool it was that read it! By the bye, you would do me a very very great favour by letting me have a copy. If Beggars might be chusers, I should ask to have it transcribed partly by you and partly by your sister. I have a desire to possess some of Mary's handwriting" (see Letter 79).

"Beautiful Quakers of Pentonville." This is almost certainly a reference to Hester Savory, the original of Lamb's poem "Hester." The whole pa.s.sage is the first of three eulogies of London in the letters, all very similar. To "The Londoner" we come later.]

LETTER 72

CHARLES LAMB TO WILLIAM G.o.dWIN

[Dec. 4, 1800.]

Dear Sir,--I send this speedily after the heels of Cooper (O! the dainty expression) to say that Mary is obliged to stay at home on Sunday to receive a female friend, from whom I am equally glad to escape. So that we shall be by ourselves. I write, because it may make _some_ difference in your marketting, &c.

C. L.

Thursday Morning.

I am sorry to put you to the expense of twopence postage. But I calculate thus: if Mary comes she will

eat Beef 2 plates, 4d.

_Batter Pudding_ 1 do. 2d.

Beer, a pint, 2d.

Wine, 3 gla.s.ses, 11d. I drink no wine!

Chesnuts, after dinner, 2d.

Tea and supper at moderate calculation, 9d.

--------- 2s. 6d.

From which deduct 2d. postage ---------- 2s. 4d.

You are a clear gainer by her not coming.

[If the date be correct this becomes the first extant letter proper which Lamb sent to the author of _Political Justice_. G.o.dwin was then forty-four years old, and had long been busy upon his tragedy "Antonio,"

in which Lamb had been a.s.sisting with suggestions. In this connection I place here the following doc.u.ment, which belongs, however, naturally to an earlier date, but is not harmed by its present position.]