{"1": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2533", "width": "1596", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0001.jp2"}, "2": {"fulltext": ",0 0^\\n,0\\n.n\\\\\\n0^\\naV^\\nf\\n.0-\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2m\\ns.\\nv\\nvx-*\\nc^V.\\n\u00c2\u00abl\\nO^\\n.N^-\\n3", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0002.jp2"}, "3": {"fulltext": "V\\ni\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0\u00e2\u0096\u00a0J^ v", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0003.jp2"}, "4": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0004.jp2"}, "5": {"fulltext": "MAYNARD S ENGLISH CLASSIC SERIES.-No. 158-159\\nESSAYS\\nBY\\nCharles Lamb\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2wnub UntroDuctlon anO motes\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2r^,..,\\ni-^-\\nti^\\nNEW YORK\\nMAYNARD, MERRILL, CO.", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0005.jp2"}, "6": {"fulltext": "4^\\nCopyright, 1895, by Maynard, Merrill, Co.", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0006.jp2"}, "7": {"fulltext": "CONTENTS\\nIntroduction\\nChronology\\n(Christ s Hospital FiVE-ANn-TiuurY Years Ago\\nMy Relations\\nMackery End, in Hertfordshire\\nBlAKESMOOR in H SHIRE\\nThe Old Benchers of the Inner Te\\nOxford in the Vacation\\nThe Old Margate Hoy\\nThe Superannuated Man\\nDream-Children A Reverie\\nA Character of the late Elia\\nImperfect Sympathies\\nNotes\\nPAGE\\nvii\\n13\\n27\\n34\\n40\\n46\\n58\\n66\\n74\\n82\\n87\\n92\\n101", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0007.jp2"}, "8": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0008.jp2"}, "9": {"fulltext": "INTRODUCTION.\\nChakles Lamb was born in London, England, February 10,\\n1775, the youngest of seven children. John and Mary were\\nsenior to him by twelve and ten years respectively; of the other\\nfour nothing is known beyond the entry of their names in the\\nbaptismal register. His father, John Lamb, had come from Lin-\\ncolnshire to seek a livelihood in London, and was for many years\\nclerk to Samuel Salt, a lawyer of the Inner Temple. The first\\nseven years of Charles life were spent in the jilace of his birth,\\nCrown Office Row, in the Temple. Here he and his sister Mary\\nhad access to the library of Mr. Salt, the source of their knowl-\\nedge of and love for old English authors; the education which\\nthey thus gave themselves was supplemented by lessons from a\\nlocal schoolmaster. At seven years of age, through the interest,\\nperhaps, of Samuel Salt, Charles received a presentation to\\nChrist s Hospital School. There he passed the next seven years,\\nobtaining a good classical educatiou, and forming life-lasting\\nfriendships with many, but with none more than with Samuel\\nTaylor Coleridge, who inliuenced him much. Christ s Hospital\\nscholarships at the Universities were limited to pupils about to\\ntake Holy Orders, for which Lamb was unfitted by an impedi-\\nment in his speech, apart from the question of the poverty of his\\nfamily, which naturally made him seek to earn something with-\\nout delay. During the next three years, or some portion of\\nthem, he held a situation in the South Sea House, where his\\nbrother John had a good appointment, where there was also an\\nItalian clerk called Elia, whose name was to be immortalized.\\nIn 1792, through the influence of Samuel Salt, he was ap-\\npointed to a clerkship in the accountants office of the East India\\nCompany, beginning with a salary of \u00c2\u00a370 a year. In the India\\nHouse he continued till 1825, when his salary had risen to about\\n\u00c2\u00a3700 a year, half of which was granted him as a pension.\\nIn 1795 his father, old and infirm, retired from the service of\\n]\\\\Ir. Salt, and took lodgings in Little Queen Street, Holborn,\\nwhere in the following year occurred the tragic death of Mrs.\\nLamb, stabbed by her daughter in a fit of insanity. The old", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0009.jp2"}, "10": {"fulltext": "U INTRODUCTION.\\nfather survived but a few months; a sister of his vho had formed\\none of the family died about the same time. Thus Charles and\\nMary, who h;;d meantime recovered her reason, were left practi-\\ncally alone in the world; for their brother John held aloof, desir-\\ning that Mary should remain in the asylum. Charles had had an\\nattack of insanity in the winter of 1795-6; it was, perhaps, in con-\\nsequence of this, and the care of his sister, that he gave up the\\nidea of marrying the Anna of his sonnets. He had no return of\\nthe madness, but Mary had fiequent relapses, the approach of\\nwhich she felt in time to enable her to retire to the lunatic\\nasylum.\\nIt was in 1796 that Lamb first appeared as an author, when four\\nsonnets by him were published in a volume of Coleridge s\\npoems.\\nLamb s first attempt in prose, exclusive of letters, was the tale\\nof liosamtrnd Oray (1798), incongruous and improbable, showing\\nthe author s weakness in narrative, but exhibiting the pathos,\\nquaintness of description and appropriateness of cpiotation which\\nform the excellence of the Essays of Elia. Of it Shelley wrote:\\nWhat a lovely thing is his Rosamund Gray How much\\nknowledge of the sweetest and deepest part of our nature is in it!\\nIn the same year lie wrote what is perhaps the best linown of his\\npoems, the first stanza of which he afterwards omitted\\nWhere are tliey gone, the old familiar faces\\nI had a mother, but she died and left me\\nDied prematurely in a day of horrors\\nAll, all are gone, the old familiar faces.\\nFor the first seventeen years of the present century, Charles and\\nMary Lamb resided within the precincts of the Temple; first in\\nMitre Court Buildings, then in Inner Temple Lane. At the be-\\nginning of this period, Charles was employed as an occasional\\nwriter of trifles for newspapers, but he soon attempted more am-\\nbitious work.\\nItosaimmd Gray had shown that he was defective in the quali-\\nties which a novelist and a dramatist alike must possess.\\nIn 1806 Lamb succeeded in getting a farce accepted at Drury\\nLane. The following year was published the collection of Tales\\nfrom Shakespeare, the comedies by Mary Lamb, the tragedies by\\nCharles. This was for both a congenial task, and one for which.", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0010.jp2"}, "11": {"fulltext": "INTRODUCTION Ill\\nfrom the special bent of their studies, tliey were thoroughly\\nqualified.\\nWith the exception of Shakespeare, the Elizabethan dramatists\\nand without exception those of the following half century, were\\nunknown to the public of eighty years ago. A rich literary\\nmine was opened to them in Lamb s Specimens of English Dra-\\nmatic Poets contemporary with SliaJiespeare; and the notes which\\nhe added placed him in the first rank of critics.\\nIn 181 7 the brother and sister left the Temple for the second\\ntime and took lodgings in great Russell Street, Covent Garden,\\nand next year a collective edition of Lamb s works appeared in\\ntwo volumes.\\nIn January, 1820, appeared the first monthly part of London\\nMagazine, though it numbered among its contributors the most\\neminent literary men of the day, it was never a pecuniary success,\\nand in 1826 ceased to exist. For it Lamb wrote some forty-five\\nessays, beginning in August, 18:20, with the one entitled The South\\nSea House; this he signed with tlie pseudonym Elia, the name of\\nthe Italian already mentioned as engaged in the South Sea House,\\nbut of whom nothing further is known. This word. Lamb tells\\nus, ought to be pronounced Ell-ia. He continued to employ this\\nnom deplume, and in 1823 a collection of the essays which had\\nup to that time appeared, was published under the title of Essays\\nof Elia.\\nOwing chiefly to the greater frequency of Mary Lamb s attacks\\nthey gave up housekeeping in 1829, and boarded at a house in the\\nsame neighborhood. In 1833 they made their last move to the\\nhouse of Mr. and Mrs. Walden, at Edmonton, that Mary might\\nbe continually under their care.\\nColeridge died the following year. Coleridge is dead, Lamb\\nkept repeating; and he survived his friend but a few mouths. A\\nslight hurt on the face, caused by a fall, brought on an attack of\\nerysipelas, and his life ended December 27, 1834. Mary survived\\nuntil 1847.\\nThough, according to Leigh Hunt, there never was a true\\nportrait of Lamb, we have descriptions by Talfourd, Procter,\\nHood and otiiers, which enable us to picture him in imagination:\\nAliglit frame, so fragile that it seemed as if a breath would\\noverthrow it, clad in clerk-like black, was surmounted by a head\\nof form and expression the most noble and sweet. His black hair", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0011.jp2"}, "12": {"fulltext": "IV INTRODUCTIO N\\ncurled crisply about an expanded forehead; his eyes, softly\\nbrown, twinkled with varying expression, though the prevalent\\nfeeling was sad; and the nose slightly curved, and delicately\\ncarved at the nostril, with the lower outline of the face regularly\\noval, completed a head which was finely placed on the shoulders,\\nand gave importance and even dignity to a diminutive and shad-\\nowy stem. Who shall describe his countenance, catch its quiver-\\ning sweetness, and fix it for ever in words There are none,\\nalas, to answer the vain desire of friendship. Deep thought,\\nstriving with humor; the lines of suffering wreathed into cordial\\nmirth; and a smile of painful sweetness, present an image to the\\nmind it can as little describe as lose. Ilis personal appearance\\nand manner are not unfitly characterized by what he himself saj s\\nin one of his letters to Manning, of Braham, a compound of the\\nJew, the gentleman, and the angel.\\nSo Talfourd describes him; and all who knew him intimately\\nnote his gravity, sadness and sweetness. Lamb s natural shyness\\nproduced a false impression upon strangers, before whom he was\\neither silent or gave utterance to ideas and sentiments quite un-\\ntrue to his nature. In a Preface to the second series of the\\nEssays of Elia, Lamb gives what purports to be a character of\\nElia. It is of himself that he really makes the following re-\\nmarks\\nMy late friend was in many respects a singular character.\\nThose who did not like him, hated him; and some, who once\\nliked him, afterwards became his bitterest haters. The truth is,\\nhe gave himself too little concern what he uttered, and in whose\\npresence. He observed neither time nor place, and would e en\\nout with what came uppermost. With the severe religionists he\\nwould pass for a free-thinker; while the other faction set him\\ndown for a bigot, or persuaded themselves that he belied his sen-\\ntiments. Few understood him, and I am not certain that at all\\ntimes he quite understood himself. He too much affected that\\ndangerous figure irony. He sowed doubtfid speeches, and\\nreaped plain, unequivocal hatred. He would interrupt the grav-\\nest discussion with some light jest; and yet, perhaps, not quite\\nirrelevant in ears that could understand it. Your long and much\\ntalkers hated him. The informal habit of his mind, joined to an\\ninveterate impediment of speecli, forbade him to be an orator;\\nand he seemed determined that no one else should play that part", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0012.jp2"}, "13": {"fulltext": "INTRODUCTION. V\\nwhen be was present. He was petit and ordinary In his person\\nand appearance. I have seen him sometimes in what is called\\ngood company, but where he has been a stranger, sit silent and\\nbe suspected for an odd fellow; till some unlucky occasion pro-\\nvoking it, he would stutter out some senseless pun (not altogether\\nsenseless, perhaps, if rightly taken) which has stamped his char-\\nacter for the evening. It was hit or miss with him; but nine\\ntimes out of ten he contrived by this device to send away a whole\\ncompany his enemies. His conceptions rose kindlier than his\\nutterance, and his happiest impi omptus had the appearance of\\nellort. He has been accused of trying to be witty, whqp in truth\\nhe was but struggling to give his poor thoughts articulation. He\\nchose his companions for some individuality of character which\\nthey manifested. Hence not many persons of science, and few\\nprofessed literati, were of his councils. They were, for the most\\npart, persons of an uncertain fortune; and as to such people com-\\nmonly nothing is more obnoxious than a gentleman of settled\\n(though moderate) income, he passed with most of them for a\\ngreat miser. To my knowledge this was a mistake. His intima-\\ndos, to confess a truth, were in the world s eye a ragged regiment.\\nHe found them floating on the surface of society; and the color,\\nor something else, in the weed pleased him. The burrs stuck to\\nhim; but they were good and loving burrs for all that. He\\nnever greatly cared for the society of what are called good people.\\nIf any of these were scandalized (and offenses were sure to arise)\\nhe could not help it. When he has been remonstrated with for\\nnot making more conces.sions to the feelings of good people, he\\nwould retort by asking what one point did these good people ever\\nconcede to him He was temperate in his meals and diversions,\\nbut always kept a little on this side of abstemiousness. Only in\\nthe use of the Indian weed he might be thought a little excessive.\\nHe took it, he would say, as a solvent of speech. Marry as the\\nfriendly vapor ascended, how his prattle would curl up some-\\ntimes with it the ligaments which tongue-tied him were loosened,\\nand the stammerer proceeded a statist\\nLamb s generosity was great, even in the days of his pecuniary\\ndifficulties; and as his income increased he gave more and more\\nliberally to all who needed help. Nor did he confine himself to\\ngiving money, but whenever he could be of use spared neither\\ntime nor trouble. He spent little on himself, and before he knew", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0013.jp2"}, "14": {"fulltext": "VI INTRODUCTION.\\nthat the directors of the India House would grant his sister a pen-\\nsion, he had laid by \u00c2\u00a32,000 for her.\\nLamb s position in literature is a remarkable one. We have\\nseen that he was not a dramatist; he could not, like Chaucer,\\nShakespeare, or such modern novelists as Thackeray and Dickens^\\nthrow himself into, and depict with truth, various characters.\\nHe could not construct a plot; he had no idea of unity of action.\\nHe was not, on the other hand, a subjective poet, like Byron and\\nShelley, whom he neither understood nor liked. He could not\\ngive utterance to great emotions, which were not in his nature.\\nWhat he could do, and what he did to perfection in the Essays of\\nElia, was to seize on the salient features, good or bad, in individ-\\nuals or in institutions, and show them to the world in that terse,\\nexpressive style which he imbibed in his earliest childhood from\\nthe old English pre-restoratiou authors, whose works he found in\\nMr. Salt s library. He must not be regarded as a plagiarist or as\\na mere echo of that literary period, but rather as a distinct and\\nnoteworthy genius of the same school. If Lamb uses their lan-\\nguage, it is because he has made that language his own; if he\\nquotes them, as he does so often, the very inaccuracy of his quo-\\ntations proves how spontaneous they were.\\nHis limitations as a critic are well put by Mr. Aiuger: Where\\nhis heart was, there his judgment was sound. Where he actively\\ndisliked, or was passively indifferent, his critical powers remained\\ndormant. He was too fond of parado.x, too much at the mercj^ of\\nhis emotions or the mood of the hour, to be a safe guide always.\\nBut where no disturbing forces interfered, he exercised a faculty\\nalmost unique in the history of criticism.\\nThe Essays of Elia are in great part biographical but so much\\ndoes Lamb delight to mystify the reader, that he makes numer-\\nous fictitious statements, and when he records facts he hints that\\nhe is inventing. He delights to alter names and dates, and even\\nto speak of the same person under different names in different es-\\nsays. Were it not for outside information we should be at a loss\\nto distinguish truth from fiction.\\nNot only ought the study of these selected E.ssays to lead to a\\nmore thorough investigation of the Essays of Elia, but Lamb\\nought to be regarded as an easy introduction to those authors who\\nwere his models and in whose works the English language arrived\\nat maturity.", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0014.jp2"}, "15": {"fulltext": "CRITICAL OPINIONS\\nAs his frame, so was his genius. It was as fit for thought as\\ncould be, and equally as unfit for action; and this rendered him\\nmelancholy, apprehensive, humorous, and willing to make the\\nbest of everything as it was, both from tenderness of heart and\\nalihorrence of alteration. His understanding was too great to\\nadmit an absurdity, his frame was not strong enough to deliver it\\nfrom a fear. His sensibility to sti ong contrasts was the founda-\\ntion of his humor, which was that of a wit at once melancholy\\nand willing to be pleased. He would beard a superstition and\\nshudder at the old phantasm while he did it. One could have\\nimagined him cracking a jest in the teeth of a ghost, and then\\nmelting into thin air himself out of a sympathy with the awful.\\nHis humor and his knowledge both, were those of Hanalet, of Mo-\\nliere, of Carlin, who shook a city with laughter, and, in order to\\ndivert his melancholy, was recommended to go and hear himself.\\nYet he extracted a real pleasure out of his jokes, because good-\\nheartedness retains that privilege when it fails in everything else.\\nI should say he condescended to be a punster if condescension had\\nbeen a word befitting wisdom like his. Being told that somebody\\nhad lampooned him, he said, Very well, I ll Lamb-pun him.\\nHis puns were admirable, and often contained as deep things as\\nthe wisdom of some who have greater names. Willing to\\nsee society go on as it did, because he despaired of seeing it other-\\nwise, but not at all agreeing in his interior with the common no-\\ntions of crime and punishment, he dumbfoundered a hmg\\ntirade one evening by taking the pipe out of his mouth, and ask-\\ning the speaker, whether he meant to say that a thief was not a\\ngood man? Autohiogra plty of Leigh Hunt.\\nThere is a fine tone of chiaro-oscuro, a moral perspective, in his\\nwritings. He delights to dwell on that which is fresh to the eye\\nof memory; he yearns after and covets what soothes the frailty of\\nhuman nature. That touches him most nearly which is with-\\ndrawn to a certain distance, which verges on the borders of oI)liv-\\nion; that piques and provokes his fancy most which is hid from\\na superficial glance. That which, though gone by, is still remem-\\nvii", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0015.jp2"}, "16": {"fulltext": "Viil CRITICAL OPINIONS.\\nbered, is in liis view more genuine, and has given more vital\\nsigns that it will live, than a thing of yesterday, that maybe\\nforgotten to-morrow. Death has in this sense the spirit of life in\\nit, and the shadowy has to our author something substantial in it.\\nIdeas savor most of reality in his mind; or rather his imagination\\nloiters on the edge of each, and a page of his writings recalls to\\nour fancy the stranger on the grate, fluttering in its dusky tenuity,\\nwith its idle superstition and hospitable welcome. He dis-\\ndains all the vulgar artifices of authorship, all the cant of criticism,\\nand helps to notoriety. He has no grand swelling theories to attract\\nthe visionary and the enthusiast, no passing fancy to allure the\\nthoughtless and the vain. He evades the present, he mocks the\\nfuture. His affections revert to and settle on the past, but then\\neven this must have something personal and local in it to interest\\nhim deeply and thoroughly; he pitches his tent in the suburbs of\\nexisting manners; brings down the account of character to the few\\nstraggling remains of the last generation seldom ventures beyond\\nthe bills of mortality, and occupies that nice jioint between egotism\\nand disinterested humanity. Hazlitt on Lamb in TJie Spirit of\\nthe Age.\\nThe prose essays, under the signature of Ella, form the most\\ndelightful section amongst Lamb s works. They traverse a pe-\\nculiar field of observation, sequestered from general interest and\\nthey are composed in a spirit too delicate and unobtrusive to catch\\nthe ear of the noisy crowd clamoring for strong sensations. But\\nthis retiring delicacy itself, the pensiveness checkered by gleams\\nof the fanciful and the humor that is touched with cross-lights of\\npathos, together with the picturesque quaintness of the objects\\ncasually described, whether men or things or usages, and in\\nthe rear of all this the constant recurrence to ancient recollec-\\ntions and to decaying forms of household life, as things retiring\\nbefore the tumult of new and revolutionary generations these\\ntraits in combination communicate to the papers a grace and\\nstrength of originality which nothing in any literature approaches,\\nwhether for degree or kind of excellence, except the most felicitous\\npapers of Addison, such as those on Sir Roger de Coverley, and\\nsome others in the same vein of composition. They resemble Ad-\\ndison s piij)ers also in the diction, which is natural and idiomatic", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0016.jp2"}, "17": {"fulltext": "CRITICAL OPimONS. IX\\neven to carelessness. They are equally faithful to the truth of\\nnature; and in this only they differ remarkably that the sketches\\nof Elia reflect the stamp and impress of the writer s own character,\\nwhereas in all those of Addison the personal peculiarities of the\\ndelineator (though known to the reader from the beginning\\nthrough the account of the club) are nearly quiescent. Charles\\nLamb Biographical Essay by Thomas Be Quinccy.\\nElia is never verbose, yet never incomplete. You ane not\\nwearied because he says too much nor dissatisfied because he says\\ntoo little. In this inimitable sense of proportion, this fitness of\\nadjustment between thought and expression, the prose of Elia\\nreminds us of the verse of Horace. Nor is the Essayist without\\nsome other resemblance to the Poet in the amenity which accom-\\npanies his satire in his sportive view of things.grave, the grave\\nmorality he deduces from things sportive his equal sympathy for\\nrural and for town life his constant good-fellowship, and his\\nlenient philosophy. Here, indeed, all similitude ceases: the mod-\\nern essayist advances no pretension to the ancient poet s wide sur-\\nvey of the social varieties of mankind to his seizure of those\\nlarge and catholic types of human nature which are familiarly\\nrecognizable in every polished community, every civilized time\\nstill less to that intense sympathy in the life and movement of the\\nworld around him v/hich renders the utterance of his individual\\nemotion the vivid illustration of the character and history of his\\nage. Yet Elia secures a charm of his own in the very narrow-\\nness of the range to which he limits his genius. For thus the in-\\nterest he creates becomes more intimate and household. Bulwer\\nLyttoii oil Charles Lamb and some of his Companions.\\nSmall and spare in person, and with small legs immaterial\\nlegs, Hood called them), he had a dark complexion; dark, curling\\nhair, almost black; and a grave look, lightening up occasionally\\nand capable of sudden merriment. His laugh was seldom excited\\nby jokes merely ludicrous it was never spiteful; and his quiet\\nsmile was sometimes inexpressibly sweet perhaps it had a touch\\nof sadness in it. His mouth was well shaped his lip tremulous\\nwith expression; his brown eyes were quick, restless, and glitter-\\ning; and he had a grand head, full of thought, Leigh Hunt said", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0017.jp2"}, "18": {"fulltext": "X CRITICAL OPINIONS.\\nthat he had a head worthy of Aristotle. Hazlitt calls it a\\nfine Titian head, full of dumb eloquence. Although sometimes\\nstrange in manner, he was thoroughly unaffected in serious\\nmatters thoroughly sincere. He was, indeed (as he confesses),\\nterribly shy; diffident, not awkward in manner; with occasionally\\nnervous twitching motions that betrayed this infirmity. He\\ndreaded the criticisms of servants far more than the observations\\nof their masters. To undergo the scrutiny of the first, as he said\\nto me when we were going to breakfast with Mr. Rogers one\\nmorning, was terrible. His speech was brief and pithy; not too\\noften humorous, never sententious nor didactic. It was\\ncurious to observe the gradations in Lamb s manner to his various\\nguests, although it was courteous to all. With Hazlitt he talked\\nas though they met the subject in discussion on equal terms.\\nWith Leigh Hunt he exchanged repartees; to Wordsworth he was\\nalmost respectful; with Coleridge he was sometimes jocose, some-\\ntimes deferring, From CliavUs Lamb: a Memoir, by Barry\\nCornwall.", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0018.jp2"}, "19": {"fulltext": "CHRONOLOGY\\n1775. Born in Crown OflSce Koav, in the Temple.\\n1782-9. At Christ s Hospital; subsequently becomes clerk\\nin the South Sea House.\\n1792. Obtains clerkship in the India House.\\n1796. Contributes some poems to a volume issued by\\nColeridge at Bristol.\\nDeath of his mother by the baud of his sister Mary\\nin a fit of insanity. After a short confinement\\nMary recovers, but is all her life subject to\\nrecurrences of the malady, when she has to\\nleave her home for an asyhim.\\n1797. Second edition of poems by S. T. Coleridge, with\\npoems by Charles Lamb and Charles Lloyd.\\n1798. Publishes the Tale of Rosam2md Gray.\\n1799. Death of his father. From this time Charles and\\nMary live together in various lodgings, except\\nwhen Mary has to be put under restraint. (For\\nMary Lamb see the Essay Mackery End.)\\n1802. Publishes John Woodvil a Tragedy.\\n1806. Writes a farce, Mr. H., which is put on the stage,\\nbut fails.", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0019.jp2"}, "20": {"fulltext": "Xll CHKONOLOGT.\\n1807. Publishes Tales from Sliahespeare, the joint work of\\nhimself and his sister; followed by the The\\nAdventures of Ulysses.\\n1808. Edits Specimens of English Dramatic Poets con-\\ntemporary with Shakespeare, with critical\\ncomments.\\n1818. Publishes Works containing poems and varioua\\ncritical essays e.g., on Hogarth, Wither, Shakes-\\npeare, with Rosamtmd Gray, the Dramatic\\nPieces, c.\\n1820. Begins to write for the London Magazine over the\\nsignature Elia.\\n1823. Publication of the First Series of the Essays of Elia.\\nThis year the brother and sister move out of\\nLondon, and settle first at Islington, then at\\nEnfield and Edmonton.\\n1825. Receives a pension from the Directors of the India\\nHouse, and retires (see the Essay, The Super-\\nannuated Man).\\n1833. The Last Essays of Elia collected and published.\\n1834. July\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Death of Coleridge.\\nDecember Death of Lamb.\\nHe leaves behind him, freed from griefs and yeats,\\nFar worthier things than tears\\nThe love of friends without a single foe\\nUneqaalled lot below.\\nW. S. Lakdob, To the Sister of Elia.", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0020.jp2"}, "21": {"fulltext": "CHRIST S HOSPITAL\\nFIVE-AND-THIRTY YEARS AGO\\nIN Mr. Lamb s Works, published a year or two since, I\\nfind a magnificent eulogy on my old school,* such as it\\nwas, or now appears to him to have been, between the years\\n1782 and 1789. It happens, very oddly, that my own\\nstanding at Christ s was nearly corresponding with his; and, 5\\nwith all gratitude to him for his enthusiasm for the cloisters,\\nI think he has contrived to bring together whatever can be\\nsaid in praise of them, dropping all the other side of the\\nargument most ingeniously.\\nI remember L. at school and can well recollect that he 10\\nhad some peculiar advantages, which I and others of his\\nschoolfellows had not. His friends lived in town, and were\\nnear at hand and he had the privilege of going to see them,\\nalmost as often as he wished, through some invidious distinc-\\ntion, which was denied to us. The present Avorthy sub- 15\\ntreasurer to the Inner Temple can explain how that happened.\\nHe had his tea and hot rolls in a morning, while we were\\nbattening upon our quarter of a penny loaf our crug\\nmoistened with attenuated small beer, in wooden piggins,\\nsmacking of the pitched leathern jack it was poured from. 20\\nOur Monday s milk porritch, blue and tasteless, and the\\npease soup of Saturday, coarse and choking, were enriched\\nfor him with a slice of extraordinary bread and butter,\\nfrom the hot-loaf of the Temple. The Wednesday s mess of\\nmillet, somewhat less repugnant (we had three banyan to 25\\nfour meat days in the week) was endeared to his palate\\nwith a lump of double-refined, and a smack of ginger (to make\\nRecollections of Christ s Hospital.", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0021.jp2"}, "22": {"fulltext": "14 lamb s essays.\\nit go down the more glibly) or the fragrant cinnamon. In\\nlieii of our half-picliled Sundays, or quite fresh boiled beef\\n30 on Thursdays (strong as caro equina), with detestable\\nmarigolds floating in the pail to poison the broth our scanty\\nmutton scrags on Fridays and rather more savoury, but\\ngrudging, portions of the same flesh, rotten-roasted or rare,\\non the Tuesdays (the only dish whicli excited our sippetitos,\\n35 and disaj)pointed our stomachs in almost equal proportion)\\nlie had his hot plate of roast veal, or the more tempting\\ngriskin (exotics unknown to our palates), cooked in the\\npaternal kitchen (a great thing), and brought him daily by\\nhis maid or aunt I remember the good old relative (in\\n40 whom love forbade pride) squatting down upon some odd\\nstone in a by-nook of the cloisters, disclosing the viands (of\\nhigher regale than those cates which the ravens ministered\\nto the Tishbite) and the contending passions of L. at the\\nunfolding. There was love for the bringer; shame for the\\n45 thi]ig brought, and the manner of its liringing sympathy\\nfor those who were too many to share in it and, at top of\\nall, hunger (eldest, strongest of the passions predominant,\\nbreaking down the stony fences of shame, and awkwardness,\\nand a trouT)ling over-consciousness.\\n50 I was a poor friendless boy. My parents, and those who\\nshould care for me, were far away. Those few acquaintances\\nof theirs, which they could reckon upon being kind to me\\nin the great city, after a little forced notice, which they had\\nthe grace to take of me on my first arrival in toAvn, soon\\n55 grew tired of my holiday visits. They seemed to them to\\nrecur too often, though I thought them few enough and,\\none after another, they all failed me, and I felt myself alone\\namong six hundred playmates.\\nO the cruelty of separating a poor lad from his early\\n60 homestead The yearnings which I used to have towards it\\nin those unfledged years How, in my dreams, would my\\nnative town (far in the west) come back, with its church,\\nand trees, and faces How I would wake weeping, and in\\nthe anguish of my heart exclaim upon sweet Calne in\\nC5 Wiltshire", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0022.jp2"}, "23": {"fulltext": "Christ s hospital five-and-thirty years ago. 15\\nTo this late hour of my life, I trace impressions left by the\\nrecollection of those friendless holidays. The long warm\\ndays of summer never return but they bring with them a\\ngloom from the haunting memory of those whole-day leaves,\\nwhen, by some strange arrangement, we were turned out, for 70\\nthe live-long day, upon our own hands, whether we had friends\\nto go to, or none. T remember those bathing-excursions to\\nthe New-River, which L. recalls with such relish, better, I\\nthink, than he can for he was a liome-seeking lad, and did\\nnot much care for such water-pastimes How merrily we 75\\nwould sally forth into the fields and strip under the first\\nwarmth of the sun and wanton like young dace in the\\nstreams getting us appetites for noon, which those of us\\nthat were penniless (our scanty morning crust long since\\nexhausted) had not the means of allaying while the cattle, 80\\nand the birds, and the fishes, were at feed about us and wo\\nhad nothing to satisfy our cravings the very beauty of the\\nday, and the exercise of the pastime, and the sense of liberty,\\nsetting a keener edge upon them! How faint and languid,\\nfinally, we would return, towards night-fall, to our desired 85\\nmorsel, half -rejoicing, half-reluctant, that the hours of our\\nuneasy liberty had expired\\nIt was worse in the days of winter, to go prowling about\\nthe streets objectless shivering at cold windows of print-\\nshops, to extract a little amusement; or haply, as a last 90\\nresort, in the hopes of a little novelty, to pay a fifty-times\\nrepeated visit (where our individual faces should be as well-\\nknown to the warden as those of his own charges) to the\\nLions in the Tower to whose levee, by courtesy immemorial,\\nwe had a prescriptive title to admission. 95\\nL. s governor (so we called the patron who presented us to\\nthe foundation) lived in a manner under his paternal roof.\\nAny complaint which he had to make was sure of being\\nattended to. This was understuod at Christ s, and was an\\nefiectual screen to him against the severity of masters, or 100\\nworse tyranny of the monitors. The oppressions of these\\nyoung brutes are heart-sickening to call to recollection. I have\\nbeen called out of my bed, and looked for the 2 urjJose, in the", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0023.jp2"}, "24": {"fulltext": "16 lamb s essays.\\ncoldest winter nights and this not once, but night after\\n105 night in my shirt, to receive the discipline of a leathern\\nthong, with eleven other sufferers, because it pleased my\\ncallow overseer, when there has been any talking heard after\\nwe were gone to bed, to make the six last beds in the dor-\\nmitory, where the youngest children of us slept, answerable\\n110 for an ofl ence they neither dared to commit, nor had the\\npower to hinder. The same execrable tyranny drove the\\nyounger part of us from the fires, when our feet were perish-\\ning with snow and, under the cruellest penalties, forbade\\nthe indulgence of a drink of water, when we lay in sleepless\\n115 summer nights, fevered with the season, and the day s sports.\\nThere was one H who, I learned, in after days, was\\nseen expiating some maturer offence in the hulks. (Do I\\nflatter myself in fancying that this might be the planter of\\nthat name who suffered at Nevis, I think, or St. Kitts\\n120 some few years since? My friend Tobin was the benevolent\\ninstrument of bringing him to the gallows. This petty Nero\\nactually branded a boy, who had offended him, with a red-\\nhot iron and nearly starved forty of us, with exacting con-\\ntributions, to the one half of our bread, to pamper a young\\n125 ass, which, incredible as it may seem, with the connivance\\nof the nurse s daughter (a young flame of his) he had con-\\ntrived to smuggle in, and keep upon the leads of the ward, as\\nthey called our dormitories. This game went on for better\\nthan a week, till the foolish beast, not able to fare well but\\n130 he must cry roast meat\u00e2\u0080\u0094 happier than Caligula s minion,\\ncould he have kept his own counsel but, foolisher, alas\\nthan any of his species in the fables waxing fat, and kick-\\ning, in the fulness of bread, one unlucky minute would\\nneeds proclaim his good fortune to the world below and,\\n135 laying out his simple throat, blew such a ram s-horn blast, as\\n(toppling down the walls of his own Jericho) set concealment\\nany longer at defiance. The client was dismissed, with\\ncertain attentions, to Smithfield but I never understood\\nthat the patron underwent any censure on the occasion.\\nMO This was in the stewardship of L. s admired Perry.\\nUnder the same facile administration, can L. have for-", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0024.jp2"}, "25": {"fulltext": "chkist s hospital five-and-thirty years ago. 17\\ngotten tlie cool impunity with which the nurses used to\\ncarry away openly, in open platters, for their own tables, one\\nout of two of every hot joint, which the careful matron had\\nheen seeing scrupulously weighed out for our dinners 1 These H5\\nthings were daily practised in that magnificent apartment,\\nwhich L. (grown connoisseur since, we presume) praises so\\nhighly for the grand paintings by Verrio, and others, with\\nI which it is hung round and adorned. But the sight of\\nsleek, well-fed blue-coat boys in pictures was, at that time, I l^ O\\nbelieve, little consolatory to him, or us, the living ones, who\\nsaw the better part of our provisions carried away before our\\nfaces by harpies; and ourselves reduced (with the Trojan in\\nthe hall of Dido)\\nTo feed our mind with idle portraiture. 155\\nL. has recorded the repugnance of the school to gags, or\\nthe fat of fresh beef boiled and sets it down to some super-\\nstition. Tut these unctuous morsels are never grateful to\\nyoung palates (children are universally fat-haters), and in\\nstrong, coarse, boiled meats, imsalted, are detestable. A 160\\ngag-eater in our time was equivalent to a goiile, and held in\\nequal detestation. suii cred under the imputation\\nT was said\\nHe ate strange flesh.\\nHe was observed, after dinner, carefully to gather up the 1G5\\nremnants left at his table (not many, nor very choice\\nfragments you may credit me) and, in an especial manner,\\nthese disreputable morsels, which he would convey away,\\nand secretly stow in the settle that stood at his bedside.\\nNone saw when he ate them. It was rumoured that he 170\\nprivately devoured them in the night. He was watched, but\\nno traces of such midnight practices were discoverable. Some\\nreported, that, on leave-days, he had been seen to carry out\\nof the bounds a large blue check handkerchief, fuU of some-\\nthing. This then must be the accursed thing. Conjectui-e 175\\nnext was at work to imagine how he could dispose of it.\\nSome said he sold it to the beggars. This belief generally\\nB", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0025.jp2"}, "26": {"fulltext": "18 lamb s essays.\\nprevailed. He went about moping. None spake to him.\\nNo one would play with him. He was excommunicated\\n180 put out of the pale of the school. He was too powerful a\\nboy to be beaten, but he underwent every mode of that\\nnegative punishment, which is more grievous than many\\nstfipes. Still he persevered. At length he was observed by\\ntwo of his school-fellows, who were determined to get at the\\n185 secret, and had traced him one leave-day for that purpose, to\\nenter a large worn-out building, such as there exist specimens\\nof in Chancery Lane, which are let out to various scales of\\npauperism, with open door and a common staircase. After\\nhim they silently slunk in, and followed by stealth up four\\n190 flights, and saw him tap at a poor wicket, which was opened\\nby an aged woman, meanly clad. Suspicion was now ripened\\ninto certainty. The informers had secured their victim.\\nThey had him in their toils. Accusation was formally pre-\\nferred, and retribution most signal was looked for. Mr.\\n195 Hathaway, the then steward (for this happened a little after\\nmy time), with that patient sagacity which tempered all his\\nconduct, determined to investigate the matter before he j^ro-\\nceeded to sentence. The result was, that the supposed\\nmendicants, the receivers or purchasers of the mysterious\\n200 scraps, turned out to be the parents of an honest\\ncouple come to decay whom this seasonable supply had, in\\nall probability, saved from mendicancy and that this young\\nstork, at the expense of his own good name, had all this\\nwhile been only feeding the old birds ^The governors on\\n205 this occasion, much to their honour, voted a present relief to\\nthe family of and presented him with a silver medal.\\nThe lesson Avhich the steward read ujjon rash judgment, on\\nthe occasion of pul^licly delivering the medal to I\\nbelieve would not be lost upon his auditory. I had left\\n210 school then, but I well remember He Avas a tall,\\nshambling youth, Avith a cast in his eye, not at all calculated\\nto conciliate hostile prejudices. I have since seen him\\ncarrying a baker s basket. I think I heard he did not do\\nquite so well by himself, as he had done by the old folks.\\n215 I Avas a hypochondriac lad and the sight of a boy in", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0026.jp2"}, "27": {"fulltext": "Christ s hospital five-and-thirty years ago. 19\\nfetters, upon the day of my first putting on the blue clothcvS,\\nwas not exactly fitted to assuage tlie natural terrors of\\ninitiation. I was of tender years, barely turned of seven\\nand liad only read of sucli things in books, or seen them but\\nin dreams. I was told he had rim moaij. This Avas the 220\\npunishment for the first offence. -As a novice I was soon\\nafter taken to see the dungeons. These were little, square,\\nBedlam cells, where a boy could just lie at his length upon\\nstraw and a blanket a mattress, I think, was afterwards\\nsubstituted with a peep of light, let in askance, from a 225\\na prison-orifice at top, barely enough to read by. Here the\\npoor boy was locked in liy himself all day, without sight of\\nany but the porter who brought him his bread and water\\nwho miijht not speak to him or of the beadle, who came\\ntwice a week to call him oiit to receive his periodical chastise- 230\\nnient, which was almost welcome, because it separated him\\nfor a brief interval from solitude and here he was shut up\\nby himself of nights out of the reach of any sound, to suffer\\nwhatever horrors the weak nerves, and superstition incident\\nto his time of life, might suljject him to.* This was the 235\\npenalty for the second offence. Woulclst thou like, reader,\\nto see what became of him in the next degree 1\\nThe culprit, who had been a third time an offender, and\\nwhose expulsion was at this time deemed irreversible, was\\nbrought forth, as at some solemn auto da fe, arrayed in un- 240\\ncouth and most appalling attire all trace of his late\\nwatchet weeds carefully effaced, he was exposed in a\\njacket resembling those which London lam]tlighters formerly\\ndelighted in, with a cap of the same. The effect of this\\n1ivestiture was such as the ingenious devisers of it could 245\\nhave anticipated. With his pale and frighted features, it\\nwas as if some of those disfigurements in Dante had seized\\nOne or two instances of lunacy, or attempted suicide, accordinj^ly,\\nat lengtli convinced tlio governors of the impolicy of this part of the\\nsentence, and the midnight torture to the spirits was dis[)ensed with.\\nThis fancy of dungeons for children was a sprout of Howard s rain\\nfor which (saving the reverence due to Holy I aul) methinks, I could\\nwillingly spit upon his statue.", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0027.jp2"}, "28": {"fulltext": "20 lamb s essays.\\nupon him. In this disguisement he was brought into the\\nhall {L. a favuurlte state-room), where awaited him the\\n250 whole number of his school-fellows, whose joint lessons and\\nsports he was thenceforth to share no more the awful\\npresence of the steward, to be seen for the last time of the\\nexecutioner beadle, clad in his state robe for the occasion\\nand of two faces more, of direr import, because never but in\\n25.5 these extremities visible. The.se were governors two of\\nAvhom by choice, or charter, Avere always accustomed to\\nofficiate at these Ultima Sapplitia not to mitigate (so at\\nleast we understood it), but to enforce the uttermost stripe.\\nOld Bamber Gascoigne, and Peter Aubert, I remember, were\\n2G0 colleagues on one occasion, when the beadle turning rather\\npale, a glass of brandy was ordered to prejiare him for the\\nmysteries. The scourging was, after the old Roman fasliion,\\nlong and stately. The lictor accompanied the criminal quite\\nround the ball. We were generally too faint with attending\\n2G5 to the previous disgusting circumstances, to make accurate\\nreport with our eyes of the degree of corporal suffering\\ninflicted. Report, of course, gave out the back knotty and\\nlivid. After scourging, he was made over, in his San Beuito,\\nto his friends, if he had any (but commordy such poor run-\\n270 agates were friendless), or to his parish officer, who, to\\nenhance the effect of the scene, had his station allotted to\\nhim outside of the hall gate.\\nTiiese solemn pageantries were not played off so often as\\nto spoil the general mirth of the community. We had\\n275 i)lenty of exercise and recreation after school hours and,\\nfor myself, I must confess, that I Avas never happier than in\\nthem. The Upper and the Lower Grammar 8chools Avere\\nheld in the same room; and an imaginary line only divided\\ntheir bounds. Their character Avas as different as that of\\n280 the inhabitants on the two sides of tlie Pyrenees. The\\nRev. James Boyer was the Upper IMaster but the Rev.\\nMattheAV Field presided over that portion of the apartment\\nof Avhich I had the good fortune to be a member. We lived .t,\\nlife as careless as Inrds. We talked and did just Avhat wft\\n2S5 pleased, and nobody molested us. We carried an accidence,", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0028.jp2"}, "29": {"fulltext": "Christ s hospital pive-and-thiety years ago. 21\\nor a grammar, for form but, for any trouble it gave us, we\\nmight take two years in getting through the verbs deponent,\\nand another two in forgetting all that we had learned about\\nthem. There was now and then the formality of saying a\\nlesson, but if you had not learned it, a brush across tlie 290\\nshoulders (just enough to disturb a fly) was the sole re-\\nmonstrance. Field never used the rod and in truth he\\nwielded the cane with no great good-will holding it like a\\ndancer. It looked in his hands rather like an emblem tliau\\nan instrument of authority and an emblem, too, he was -IQb\\nashamed of. He was a good easy man, that did not care to\\nruffle his own peace, nor perhaps set any great consideration\\nupon the value of juvenile time. He came among us, now\\nand then, but often stayed away whole days from us and\\nwhen he came it made no diflerence to us he had his private 300\\nroom to retire to, the short time he stayed, to be out of the\\nsound of our noise. Our mirth and uproar went on. We\\nhad classics of our own, without being beholden to insolent\\nGreece or haughty Rome, that passed current among us\\nPeter Wilkins the Adventures of the Hon. Captain Robert 305\\nBoyle the Fortunate Blue Coat Boy and the like. Or\\nwe cultivated a turn for mechanic and scientific operations\\nmaking little sun-dials of paper; or weaving those ingenious\\nparentheses called cut-cradles; or making dry peas to dance\\nupon the end of a tin ytipe; or studying the art military over 310\\nthat laudable game French and English, and a hundred\\nother such devices to pass away the time mixing the useful\\nwith the agreeable as would have made the souls of\\nRousseau and John Locke chuckle to have seen us.\\nMatthew Field belonged to that class of modest divines who 315\\nafiPect to mix in equal pro|)ortion the getitleman, the scholar^\\nand the Christian but, I know not how, the first ingredient\\nis generally found to be the predominating ^dose in the com-\\nposition. He was engaged in gay parties, or with his courtly\\nbow at some episcopal levee, when he should have been 320\\nattending upon us. He had for many years the classical\\ncliarge of a hundred children, during the four or five first\\nyears of their education and his very highest form seldom", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0029.jp2"}, "30": {"fulltext": "22 lamb s essays.\\nproceeded furtlier than two or three of the introdnctory\\n325 fables of Phiedms. How things were suffered to go on\\nthus I cannot guess. Boyer, who was the proper person to\\nhave remedied these abuses, always affected, perhaps felt, a\\ndelicacy in interfering in a province not strictly his own. I\\nhave not been without my suspicions, that he was not\\n330 altogether displeased at the contrast we presented to his end\\nof the school. We were a sort of Helots to his young\\nSpartans. He would sometimes, with ironic deference, send\\nto borrow a rod of the Under Master, and then, with\\nSardonic grin, observe to one of his upper boys how neat\\n335 and fresh the twigs looked. While his pale students were\\nbattering their brains over Xenophon and Plato, with a\\nsilence as deep as that enjoined by the Samite, we were en-\\njoying ourselves at our ease in our little Goshen. We saw a\\nlittle into the secrets of his discipline, and tlie prospect did\\n340 l)ut the more reconcile us to our lot. His thunders rolled\\ninnocuous for us his storms came near, but never touched\\nlis; contrary to Gideon s miracle, while all around were\\ndrenched, our fleece was dry.* His boys turned out the\\nbetter scholars we, I suspect, have the advantage in temper.\\n345 His pupils cannot speak of him without something of terror\\nallaying their gratituile the remembrance of Field comes\\nl:)ack with all the soothing images of indolence, and summer\\nslumbers, and work like play, and innocent idleness, and\\nElysian exemptions, and life itself a playing holiday.\\n350 Though sufficiently removed from the jurisdiction of\\nPoyer, we were near enough (as I have said) to understand\\na little of his system. We occasionally heard sounds of\\nthe Ulalantes, and cauglit glances of Tartarus. B. was a\\nrabid pedant. His English style was crampt to barbarism.\\n355 His Easter anthems (for his duty obliged him to those\\njjeriodical flights) were grating as scrannel pipes, f He\\nCowley.\\nt 111 tliis and everything B. was the antipodes of his coadjutor.\\nWliile tlie former was digging his brains for crude anthems, wortii a\\npig-nut, F. would be recreating his gentlemanly fancy in the more\\nflowery walks of the Muses. A little drania ic etlusion of his, under\\nthe uame of Vertuuinus and Pomona, is not yet forgotten by the", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0030.jp2"}, "31": {"fulltext": "CimtST s HOSPITAL FIVE-ANC-tHlRTY YEARS AGO. 23\\nould. laiigli, ay, and heartily, but then it must be at\\nlaccus s quibble about Rex or at the tristis seiKritas in\\nultu, or inqnrere in jjcitir/as, of Terence tbin jests, which\\nI,t their first broaching could hardly liave had vis enough to 360\\ninove a Roman muscle. He had two wigs, both pedantic, but\\n)f different omen. The one serene, smiling, fresh-powdered,\\nbetokening a mild day. The other, an old, discoloured,\\ninkempt, angry caxon, denoting frequent and bloody execu-\\nI -ion. Woe to the school, when he made his morning appear- 305\\nmce in bis fiass)/ or piussirmate wig. No comet expounded\\nsurer. J. B. had a heavy hand. I have known him double\\nhis knotty fist at a ])Oor trembling child (the maternal milk\\nhardly dry upon its lips) with a Sirrah, do you presume to\\nset your Avits at mcT Nothing was more common than to 370\\njsee him make a headlong entry into the schoolroom, from his\\nI inner recess or library, and, with turbulent eye, singling out\\na lad roar out, Od s my life, sirrah (his faA ourite adjura-\\ntion) 1 have a great mind to whip you then, with as\\nsudden a retracting impulse, fling back into his lair and, 375\\nafter a cooling lapse of some minutes (during which all but\\nthe culprit had totally forgotten the context), drive headlong\\nout again, piecing out his imperfect sense, as if it had been\\nsome Devil s Litany, with the expletory yell and I will\\ntuo. In his gentler moods, when the rabidtis furor was 380\\nassuaged, he had resort to an ingenious method, peculiar,\\nfor wliat I have heard, to himself, of whipping the boy and\\nreading the Debates at the same time a paragraph and a lash\\nbetween which in those times, when parliamentary oratory\\nwas most at a height and flourishing in tbese realms, was not 385\\ncalculated to impress tlie patient with a veneration for the\\nditfuser graces of rhetoric.\\nOnce, and but once, the uplifted rod was known to fall\\nineffectual from his hand when droll, squinting W., having\\nbeen caught putting the inside of the master s desk to a use 390\\nchroniclers of that sort of literature. It was accepted by Ganick, but\\nthe town did not give it tlieir sanction.^B. used to say of it, in a way\\nof lialf-conipliment, half-irony, that it was too classical for rcpresenta\\ntion.", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0031.jp2"}, "32": {"fulltext": "24 lamb s essays.\\nfor which the architect had clearly not designed it, to justify\\nhimself, with great simplicity averred, that he did not hioic\\nthat the thing had been forewarned. This exquisite irrecogni-\\ntion of any law antecedent to the oral or declaratory, struck\\n395 so irresistibly upon the fancy of all who heard it (the\\npedagogue himself not excepted), that remission was un-\\navoidable.\\nL. has given credit to B. s great merits as an instructor\\nColeridge, in liis Hterary life, has i)ronounced a more intelli\\n400 gible and ample encomium on them. The author of the\\nCountry Spectator doubts not to compare him with the\\nablest teachers of antiquity. Perhaps we cannot dismiss\\nhim better than with the pious ejaculation of C. when he\\nl^eard that his old master was on his deathbead Poor\\n405 J. B. may all his faults be forgiven and may he be wafted\\nto bliss by little cherub boys all head and wings, with no\\nbottoms to reproach his sublunary infirmities.\\nUnder him were many good and sound scholars bred.\\nFirst Grecian of my time was Lancelot Pepys Stevens,\\n410 kindest of boys and men, since Co-grammar-master (and\\ninseparable companion) with Dr. T e. What an edifying\\nspectacle did this brace of friends present to those who\\nremembered the antisocialities of their predecessors You\\nnever met the one by chance in the street without a wonder,\\n415 which Avtis quickly dissipated by the almost immediate\\nsub-appearance of the other. Generally arm-in-arm, these\\nkindly coadjutors lightened for each other the toilsome\\nduties of their profession, and when, in advanced age, one\\nfound it convenient to retire, the other was not long in dis-\\n420 covering that it suited him to lay down the fasces also. Oh,\\nit is pleasant, as it is rare, to find the same arm linked in\\nyours at forty, which at thirteen helped it to turn over the\\nCicero De Amicitid, or some tale of Antique Friendship,\\nwhich the young heart even then was burning to anticipate\\n425 Co-Grecian with S. was Th who has since executed\\nwith ability various diplomatic functions at the Northern\\ncourts. Th was a tall, dark, saturnine youth, sparing of\\nspeech, with raven locks. Thomas Faushaw Middleton", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0032.jp2"}, "33": {"fulltext": "Christ s hospital five-and-thirty years ago. 25\\nfollowed him (now Bishop of Calcutta), a scholar and a\\ngentleman in his teens. He has the reputation of an 430\\naxcellent critic and is author (besides the Country\\nSpectator of a Treatise on the Greek Article, against\\niSharpe. M. is said to bear his mitre high in India, where\\nthe regni novi/at (I dare say) sufficiently justifies the hearing.\\nA humility quite as primitive as that of Jewel or Hooker 4 i5\\nImight not bo exactly fitted to impress the minds of those\\nAnglo-Asiatic diocesans with a reverence for home institu-\\ntions, and tlie church which those fathers watered. The\\nmanners of M. at school, though firm, were mild and\\nland unassuming. Next to M. (if not senior to him) was 440\\nRichards, author of the Aboriginal Britons, the most spirited\\nof the Oxford Prize Poems a pale studious Grecian.\\nThen followed poor S ill-fated M 1 of these the\\nMuse is silent.\\nFinding some of Edward s race 445\\nUnhappy, pass their annals by.\\nCome back into memory, like as thou wert in the day-\\nsprmg of thy fancies, with hope like a fiery column before\\nthee the dark pillar not yet turned Samuel Taylor Cole-\\nridge Logician, Metaphysician, Bard How have I seen 4r)0\\nthe casual passer through the Cloisters stand still, entranced\\nwith admiration (while he weighed the disproportion be-\\ntween the qieech and the garb of the young Mirandola), to\\nhear thee unfold, in thy deep and sweet intonations, the\\nmysteries of Jamblichus, or Plotinus (for even in those years 455\\nthou waxedst not pale at such philosophic draughts), or\\nreciting Homer in his Greek, or Pindar while the walls\\nof the old Grey Friars re-echoed to the accents of the in-\\nspired charity hoy Many were the wit-combats (to\\ndally awhile with the words of old Fuller), between him and 460\\nC. V. Le G which two I behold like a Spanish great\\ngalleon, and an English man-of-war Master Coleridge, like\\nthe former, was built far higher in learning, solid, but slow\\nin his performances. C. V. L., with the English man-of-war\\nlesser in bulk, but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, 4(55", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0033.jp2"}, "34": {"fulltext": "26 lamb s essays.\\ntack about, and take advantage of all winds, by tlic quick-\\nness of his wit and invention.\\nNor slialt thou, their compeer, be quickly forgotten, Allen, i\\nwith the cordial smile, and still more cordial laugh, with I\\n470 which thou wert wont to make the old Cloisters shake, in\\nthy cognition of some poignant jest of theirs or the antici-\\npation of some more material, and, peradventure, jiractical\\none of thine own. Extinct are those smiles, with that\\nbeautiful countenance, with wliich (for thou wert the Nireus\\n47^, formosiis of the school), in the days of thy niaturer waggery,\\ntliou diilst disarm the wrath of infuriated town-damsel, wlio,\\nincensed by provoking pinch, turning tigressdike round,\\nsuddenly converted by thy angel-look, exchanged the half-\\nformed terrible iZ for a gentler greeting Wess fJ/y\\n480 handsome face\\nNext follow two, who ought to be now alive, and the\\nfriends of Elia the junior Le G and F who\\nimpelled, the former by a roving temper, the latter by too\\nquick a sense of neglect ill capable of enduring the slights\\n485 poor Sizars are sometimes subject to in our seats of learning\\nexchanged their Alma Mater for the camp perishing, one.\\nby climate, and one on the plains of Salamanca Le G\\nsanguine, volatile, sweet-natured F dogged, faithful,\\nanticipative of insult, Avarm-h-earted, with something of the\\n490 old Roman height aliout him.\\nFine, frank-hearted Fr the present master of Hert-\\nford, with Marmaduke T mildest of Missionaries^\\nand both my good friends still close the catalogue of\\nGrecians in my time.", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0034.jp2"}, "35": {"fulltext": "MY RELATIONS\\nAM arrived at that point of life at wliicli a man may\\naccount it a blessing, as it is a singularity, if he have\\nsither of his parents surviving. I have not that felicity\\nand sometimes think feelingly of a passage in Browne s\\n^Christian Morah; where he speaks of a Juan that hath lived 5\\nj sixty or seventy years in tlie world. In such a compass of\\ntime, he says, a man may have a close apprehension what\\nit is to be forgotten, when he hath lived to find none who\\ncould rememlier his father, or scarcely the friends of his\\nyouth, and may sensibly see with what a face in no long 10\\ntime Oblivion will look upon himself.\\nI had an ainit, a dear and good one. She was one whom\\nsingle blessedness had soured to the world. She often used\\nto say, that I was the only thing in it which she loved and,\\nwhen she thought I was quitting it, she grieved over me 15\\nwith mother s tears. A partiality quite so exclusive my\\nreason cannot altogether approve. She was from morn-\\ning till niglit poring over good books and devotional\\nexercises. Her favourite volumes were Thomas a Kempis,\\nin Stanhope s translation; and a Roman Catholic Prayer 20\\nBook, with the matins and amiplines regularly set down\\nterms which I was at tliat time too young to understand.\\nShe persisted in reading them, although admonished daily\\nconcerning their Papistical tendency and went to church\\nevery Sabljath as a good Protestant should do. These were 25\\nthe only books she studied though I think at one period\\nof her life, she told me, she had read with great satisfaction\\nthe Advenfures of an Unfortunate Young Nobleman.\\nFinding the door of the chapel in Essex Street open one", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0035.jp2"}, "36": {"fulltext": "28 lamb s essays.\\n30 day ^it was in the infancy of that heresy she went in,\\nliked the sermon, and the manner of worship, and\\nfrequented it at intervals for some time after. She came\\nnot for doctrinal points, and never missed them. With\\nsome little asperities in her constitution, which I have above\\n35 hinted at, she was a steadfast, friendly being, and a fine old\\nChristum. She was a woman of strong sense, and a shrewd\\nmind extraordinary at a repartee one of the few occasions\\nof hor breaking silence else she did not much value wit.\\nThe only secular employment I remember to have seen her\\n10 engaged in, was the splitting of French beans, and dropping\\nthem into a china basin of fair water. The odour of those\\ntender vegetables to this day comes back upon my sense,\\nredolent of soothing recollections. Certainly it is the most\\ndelicate of culinary operations.\\n45 Male aunts, as somebody calls them, I had none to\\nremember. By the uncle s side I may be said to have been\\nborn an orphan. Brother or sister, I never had any to\\nknow them. A sister, I think, that should have been\\nElizabeth, died in both our infancies. What a comfort, or\\n50 what a care, may I not have missed in her? But I have\\ncousins sprinkled about in Hertfordshire besides ti.vo, with\\nwhom I have been all my life in habits of the closest\\nintimacy, and Mdiom I may term cousins par excellence.\\nThese are James and Bridget Elia. They are older than\\n55 myself by twelve, and ten, years and neither of them\\nseems disposed, in matters of advice and guidance, to waive\\nany of the prerogatives which primogeniture confers. May\\nthey continue still in the same mind and when they shall\\nbe seventy-five, and seventy-three, years old (I cannot spare\\nCO them sooner), persist in treating me in my grand climacteric\\nprecisely as a stripling or younger brother.\\nJames is an inexplicable cousin. Nature hath her unities,\\nwhich not every critic can penetrate or, if we feel, we\\ncannot explain them. The pen of Yorick, and of none since\\n65 his, could have drawn J. E. entire those fine Shandean\\nlights and shades, which make up his story. I must limp\\nafter in my poor antithetical manner, as the fates have given", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0036.jp2"}, "37": {"fulltext": "MY EELATIONS, 29\\nae grace and talent. J. E. then to the eye of a common\\nbserver at least seemeth made up of contradictory\\n)rinciples. The gv^iuine cliild of impulse, the frigid 70\\nShilosoi)her of prudence tlie phlegm of my cousin s\\n[octrine is invarialjly at war with his temperament, which is\\nligh sanguine. With always some flro-new project in his\\nj rain, J. E. is the systematic ojjpouent of innovation, and\\n.rier down of everything that has not stood the test of age 75\\nind experiment. With a hundred fine notions chasing- one\\nuHother hourly in his fancy, he is startled at the least\\napproach to the romantic in others and, determined by his\\n)wn sense in everything, commends ijoii to the guidance of\\nlommon sense on all occasions. With a toucli of the so\\n;ccentric in all which he does, or says, he is only anxitjus\\nJ-hat you should not commit yourself by doing anytliing\\n[ibsurd or singidar. On my once letting slip at taljle, that 1\\n-v as not fond of a certain popular dish, he ))egged me at any\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2ate not to say so for the wurld woidd think mci mad. He iS5\\ndisguises a passionate fondness for works of liigh art\\nwhereof lie hath amassed a clioice collection), under the\\npretext of buying only to sell again that his enthusiasm\\nnay give no encouragement to yours. Yet, if it were so,\\nvvhy does that piece of tender, pastoral Domenicliino hang *o\\njtill by his walH\u00e2\u0080\u0094 is the ball of his siglit much more dear\\no him 1 or what picture-dealer can talk like him 1\\nWhereas mankind in general are observed to warp their\\nspeculative conclusions to the bent of their individual\\nlumours. Ids theories are sure to be in diametrical opposition 95\\n;o his constitution. He is courageous as Charles of Sweden,\\nipon instinct chary of his person upon principle, as a\\ntravelling Quaker. He has been preaching up to me, all my\\nlife, the doctrine of bowing to the great the necessity of\\ntorms, and manner, to a man s getting on in the world. He 100\\naircself never aims at either, that I can discover,\u00e2\u0080\u0094 and has\\na spirit, that would stand upright in the i)resence of the Cham\\ngf Tartary. It is pleasant to hear him discourse of patience\\nextolling it as the truest wisdom and to see him during\\ntiie last seven minutes that his dinner is getting ready. 105", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0037.jp2"}, "38": {"fulltext": "30 lamb s essays.\\nNature never ran up in her haste a more restless piece of\\nworkraaiisliip tlian when she moulded this impetuous cousin\\nand Art never turned out a more elaborate orator than he\\ncan display himself to be, upon this favourite topic of the\\n110 advantages of quiet and contentedness in the state, whatever\\nit be, that we are placed in. He is triumpliant on this\\ntheme, when he has you safe in one of those short stages\\nthat ply for the western road, in a very obstructing manner,\\nat the foot of John Muri ay s street where you get in\\n115 when it is empty, and are ex^iected to wait till the vehicle\\nhath completed her just freight a trying three quarters of\\nan hour to some people. He wonders at your fidgetiness,\\nwhere could Ave be better than we are, thus sitting, thus\\nconmlting V prefers, for his part, a state of rest to loco-\\n1-0 motion, with an eye all the while w\\\\)Vi\\\\\\\\ the coachman,\\ntill at length, waxing out of all jjatience at your wmit of it,\\nhe l)reaks out into a })athetic remonstrance at the fellow for\\ndetaining us so long over the time which he had professed,\\nand declares peremptorily, that the gentleman in the\\n125 coach is determined to get out, if he does not drive on that\\ninstant.\\nVery quick at inventing an argument, or detecting a\\nsophistry, he is incapable of attending you in any chain of\\narguing. Indeed he makes Avild work with logic and\\n130 seems to jump at most admirable conclusions by some process,\\nnot at all akin to it. Consonantly enough to this, he hath\\nbeen heard to deny, upon certain occasions, that there exists\\nsuch a faculty at all in man as reason and wondereth how\\nman came first to have a conceit of it enforcing his negation\\n135 with all the niight of reasoning he is master of. He has\\nsome siieculative notions against laughter, and will maintain\\nthat laughing is not natural to him when perad venture the\\nnext moment his lungs shall crow like chanticleer. He says\\nsome of the best things in the world and declareth that\\n140 wit is his aversion. It was he who said, upon seeing the\\nEton boys at play in their grounds What a pity to think,\\nthat these fine iugeimons lads in a few years loill all he,\\nchanged into frivolous Members of Parliament I", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0038.jp2"}, "39": {"fulltext": "MY EELATIONS, 31\\nHis youth was fiery, glowing, tempestuous and in age he\\niscovereth no symptom of cooHng. This is that which I 145\\ndmire in him. I hate people who meet Time half-way. I\\nm for no compromise with that inevitable spoiler. While\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2le lives, J. E. will take his swing. It does me good, as I\\nralk towards the street of my daily avocation, on some fine\\njilay morning, to meet liim marching in a quite opposite 150\\nlirection, with a jolly handsome presence, and shining\\nanguine face, that indicates some purchase in his eye a\\nOlaude or a Hobhima for much of his enviable leisure is\\nonsumed at Christie s and Phillips s or where not, to pick\\n{p pictures, and such gauds. On these occasions he mostly 155\\ntoppeth me, to read a short lecture on the advantage a\\n)erson like me possesses above himself, in having his time\\n(ccupied with business which he must do assureth me that\\nle often feels it hang heavy on his hands wishes he had\\newer holidays and goes off Westward Ho chanting a 160\\n,une, to Pall Mall perfectly convinced that he has convinced\\nne while I proceed in my opposite direction tuneless.\\nIt is pleasant again to see this Professor of Indifierence\\nloing the honours of his new purchase, when he has fairly\\nloused it. You must view it in every light, till he has 165\\nound the best placing it at this distance, and at that, but\\ndways suiting the focus of your sight to his own. You\\nnust spy at it through your fingers, to catch the aerial per-\\njpective though you assure him that to you the landscape\\nshows much more agreeable without that artifice. Woe be 170\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a00 tlie luckless wight, who does not only not respond to his\\nrapture, but who should drop an unseasonable intimation of\\npreferring one of his anterior bargains to the present The\\nlast is always his best hit his Cynthia of the minute.\\nMas how many a mild Madonna have I laiown to come in 175\\na Eaphael keep its ascendancy for a few brief moons\\nthen, after certain intermedial degradations, from the front\\ndrawing-room to the back gallery, thence to the dark parlour,\\nadopted in turn by each of the Carracci, under successive\\nlowering ascriptions of filiation, mildly breaking its fall 180\\nconsigned to the oblivious lumber-room, go out at last a", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0039.jp2"}, "40": {"fulltext": "32 lamb s essays.\\nLucca Giordano, or plain Carlo Maratti which things\\nwhen I beheld musing upon the chances and mutabilities\\nof fate below, hath made me to reflect upon the altered\\n185 condition of great personages, or that woeful Queen of\\nRichard the Second\\nset forth in pomp,\\nShe came adorned hither like sweet May.\\nSent back like Hallowmass or shortest day.\\n190 With great love for you, J. E. hath but a limited\\nsympathy with what you feel or do. He lives in a world of\\nliis own, and makes slender guesses at what passes in your\\nmind. He never pierces the marrow of your habits. He\\nwill tell an old established playgoer, that Mr. Such-a-one, of\\n195 So-and-so (naming one of the theatres), is a very lively\\ncomedian as a piece of news He advertised me but the\\nother day of some pleasant green lanes which he had found\\nout for me, knowing me to be a great walker, in my own\\nimmediate vicinity who have haunted the identical spot\\n200 any time these twenty years He has not much respect for\\nthat class of feelings which goes by the name of sentimental.\\nHe applies the definition of real evil to bodily sufferings\\nexclusively and rejectetli all others as imaginary. He is\\naffected by the sight, or the bare supposition, of a creature in\\n205 ])ain, to a degree which I have never witnessed out of woman-\\nkind. A constitutional acutenes-s to this class of sufferings\\nmay in part account for this. The animal tribe in particular\\nhe taketh under his especial protection. A broken-winded\\nor spur-galled horse is sure to find an advocate in him. An\\n210 over-loaded ass is his client for ever. He is the apostle to\\nthe brute kind the never-failing friend of those who have\\nnone to care for them. The contemplation of a lobster\\nboiled, or eels skinned alive, will wring him so, that all for\\npity he could die. It will take the savour from his palate,\\n215 and the rest from his pillow, for days and nights. With the\\nintense feeling of Thomas Clarkson, he wanted only the\\nsteadiness of pursuit, and unity of purpose, of that true\\nyoke-feUow with Time, to have effected as much for the", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0040.jp2"}, "41": {"fulltext": "MT RELATIONS. 33\\nI Animal, as he hath done for the Negro Creation. But my\\nuncontrollable cousin is but imperfectly formed for purposes 220\\nwhich demand co-operation. He cannot wait. His ameliora-\\ntion plans must be ripened in a day. For this reason he has\\ncut but an equivocal figure in benevolent societies, and com-\\nbinations for the alleviation of human sufierings. His zeal\\nconstantly makes him to outrun, and put out, his coadjutors. 225\\nHe thinks of relieving, while they think of debating. He\\nwas black-balled out of a society for the Relief of\\nbecause the fervour of his humanity toiled beyond the\\nformal apprehension, and creeping processes, of his associates.\\nI shall always consider this distinction as a patent of 230\\nnobility in the Elia family\\nDo I mention these seeming inconsistencies to smile at, or\\nupbraid, my unique cousin? Marry, heaven, and all good\\nmanners, and the understandmg that should be between kins-\\nfolk, forbid With all the strangenesses of this strangest 235\\nof the Elias I would not have him in one jot or tittle other\\ntlian he is neither would I barter or exchange my wild\\nkinsman for the most exact, regular, and every way con-\\nsistent kinsman breathing.\\nIn my next, reader, I may perhaps give you some account 240\\nof my cousin Bridget if you are not already surfeited with\\ncousins and take you by the hand, if you are willing to go\\nwith us, on an excursion which we made a summer or two\\nsince, in search of more cousins\\nThrough the green plains of pleasant Hertfordshire. 245", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0041.jp2"}, "42": {"fulltext": "MACKERY END, IN HERTFORDSHIRE\\nBRIDGET ELIA has been my housekeeper for many a\\nlong year. I have obligations to Bridget, extending\\nbeyond the period of memory. We house together, old\\nbachelor and maid, in a sort of double singleness with\\n5 such tolerable comfort, upon the whole, that I, for one, find\\nin myself no sort of disposition to go out upon the moun-\\ntains, with the rash king s offspring, to bewail my celibacy.\\nWe agree pretty well in our tastes and habits yet so, as\\nwith a difference. We are generally in harmony, with\\n10 occasional bickerings as it should be among near relations.\\nOur sympathies are rather understood, than expressed and\\nonce, upon my dissembling a tone in my voice more kind\\nthan ordinary, my cousin burst into tears, and complained\\ntliat I was altered. We are both great readers in difierent\\n15 directions. While I am hanging over (for the thousandth\\ntime) some passage in old Burton, or one of his strange\\ncontemporaries, she is abstracted in some modern tale, or\\nadventure, whereof our common reading-table is daily fed\\nwith assiduously fresh supplies. Narrative teases me. I\\n20 have little concern in the progress of events. She must\\nhave a story well, ill, or indifferently told so there be\\nlife stirring in it, and plenty of good or evil accidents. The\\nfluctuations of fortune in fiction and almost in real life\\nhave ceased to interest, or operate but dully upon me.\\n25 Out-of-the-way humours and opinions heads with some\\ndiverting twist in them^the oddities of authorship please\\nme most. My cousin has a native disrelish of anything\\nthat sounds odd or bizarre. Nothing goes down with her,\\nthat is quaint, irregular, or out of the road of common", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0042.jp2"}, "43": {"fulltext": "MACKEEY END, IN HERTFOHDSIimE. 35\\nsympathy. She holds Nature more clever. I can 30\\npardon her blindness to the beautiful obliquities of the\\nReligio Medici but she must apologise to me for certain\\ndisrespectful insinuations, which she has been pleased to\\nthrow out latterly, touching the intellectuals of a dear\\nfavourite of mine, of the last century but one the thrice 35\\nnoble, chaste, and virtuous, but again somewhat fantastical,\\nand original-brained, generous Margaret Newcastle.\\nIt has been the lot of my cousin, oftener perhaps than I\\ncould have wished, to have had for- her associates and mine,\\nfree-tliinkers leaders, and disciples, of novel philosophies 40\\nand systems but she neither wrangles with, nor accepts,\\ntheir opinions. That which was good and venerable to her,\\nwhen a child, retains its authority over her mind still. She\\nnever juggles or plays tricks with her understanding.\\nWe are both of us inclined to be a little too positive 4.^)\\nand I have observed the result of our disputes to be almost\\nuniformly this that in matters of fact, dates, and circum-\\nstances, it turns out, that I was in the right, and my\\ncousin in the wrong. But where we have differed upon\\nmoral points upon something proper to 1)0 done, or let i O\\nalone wliatever heat of opposition, or steadiness of con-\\nviction, I set out with, I am sure always, in the long-run, to\\nbe brought over to her way of thinking.\\nI must touch upon the foibles of my kinswoman with\\na gentle hand, for Bridget does not like to be told of her 55\\nfaults. She hath an awkward trick (to say no worse of it)\\nof reading in coui})any at which times she will answer yes\\nor vo to a question, without fully understanding its purport\\nwhich is provoking, and derogatory in the highest degree\\nto the dignity of the putter of the said question. Her 60\\npresence of mind is equal to the most pressing trials of life,\\nl)ut will sometimes desert her upon trifling occasions. When\\nthe purpose requires it, and is a thing of moment, she can\\nspeak to it greatly but in matters which are not stuff of\\nthe conscience, she hath been known sometimes to let shp a 05\\nword less seasonably.\\nHer education in youth was not much attended to and", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0043.jp2"}, "44": {"fulltext": "36 lamb s essays.\\nshe happily missed all that train of female garniture, which\\npasseth by the name of accomplishments. She was tumbled\\n70 early, by accident or design, into a spacious closet of good\\nold English reading, without much selection or prohibition,\\nand browsed at will upon that fair and wholesome pasturage.\\nHad I twenty girls, they should be brought up exactly in\\nthis fashion. I know not whether their chance in wedlock\\n75 might not be diminished by it but I can answer for it, that\\nit makes (if the worst come to the worst) most incomparable\\nold maids.\\nIn a season of distress, she is the truest comforter but in\\nthe teasing accidents, and minor perplexities, which do not\\n80 call out the loillio meet them, she sometimes niaketh matters\\nworse by an excess of participation. If she does not always\\ndivide your trouble, upon the pleasanter occasions of life she\\nis sure always to treble your satisfaction. She is excellent\\nto be at a play with, or upon a visit but best, when she\\n85 goes a journey with you.\\nWe made an excursion together a few summers since, into\\nHertfordshire, to beat up the quarters of some of our less-\\nknown relations in that iine corn country.\\nThe oldest thing I remember is Mackery End or\\n90 Mackarel End, as it is spelt, perhaps more properly, in some\\nold maps of Hertfordshire a farm-house, delightfully\\nsituated within a gentle walk from Wheathampstead. I can\\njust remember having been there,. on a visit to a great-aunt,\\nwhen I was a child under the care of Bridget who, as I\\n95 liave said, is older than myself by some ten years. I wisli\\nthat I could throw into a heap the remainder of our joint\\nexistences that we might share them in equal division.\\nBut that is impossible. The house was at that time in tlie\\noccupation of a substantial yeoman, who had married my\\n100 grandmother s sister. His name was Gladman. My grand-\\nmother was a Briiton, married to a Eield. The Gladmans\\nand the Brutons are still flourishing in that part of the\\ncounty, but the Fields are almo.st extinct. More tlian foi ty\\nyears had elapsed since the visit I speak of and, for the\\n105 greater portion of that period, we had lost sight of the other", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0044.jp2"}, "45": {"fulltext": "MACKERY END, IN HERTFORDSHIRE. 37\\ntwo branches also. Who or what sort of persons inherited\\nIMackery End kindred or strange folk we were afraid\\nI almost to conjecture, but determined some day to explore.\\nI By somewhat a circuitous route, taking the noble park at\\nLuton in our way from Saint Albans, we arrived at the spot 110\\nof our anxious curiosity about noon. The sight of the old\\nI farmhouse, though every trace of it was effaced from my\\nrecollection, affected me with a pleasure which I had not\\nexperienced for many a year. For though I had forgotten\\nit, we had never forgotten being there together, and we had H^\\nI been talking about Mackery End all our lives, till memory\\non my part became mocked with a phantom of itself, and I\\nthought I knew the aspect of a place, which, when present,\\nhow unlike it was to that, which I had conjured up so\\nmany times instead of it 1-0\\nStill the air breathed balmily about it the season was in\\nthe heart of June, and I could say with the poet\\nBut thou, that didst ajjpear so fair\\nTo fond imagination,\\nDost rival in the light of day 15\\nHer delicate creation\\nBridget s was more a waking bliss than mine, for she easily\\nremembered her old acquaintance again some altered\\nfeatures, of course, a little grudged at. At first, indeed, she\\nwas ready to disbelieve for joy but the scene soon re- 130\\nconfirmed itself in her affections and she traversed every\\noutpost of the old mansion, to the wood-house, the orchard,\\nthe place where the pigeondiouse had stood (house and birds\\nwere alike flown) with a breathless imi)atience of recogni-\\ntion, which was more pardonable perhaps than decorous at 135\\nthe age of fifty odd. But Bridget in some things is behind\\nher years.\\nThe only thing left was to get into the house and that\\nwas a difficulty which to me singly would have been in-\\nsurmountable for I am terribly shy in making myself 140\\nknown to strangers and out-of-date kinsfolk. Love, stronger\\nthan scruple, winged my cousin in without me; but she", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0045.jp2"}, "46": {"fulltext": "38 lamb s essays.\\nsoon returned with a creature that might have sat to a\\nsculptor for the image of Welcome. It was the youngest of\\n145 the Gladmans who, by marriage with a Bruton, had become\\nmistress of the old mansion. A comely brood are the\\nBrutons. Six of them, females, were noted as the hand-\\nsomest young women in the county. But this adopted\\nBruton, in my mind, was better than they all more comely.\\n150 She was born too late to have remembered me. She just\\nrecollected in early life to have had her cousin Bridget once\\npointed out to her, climbing a stile. But the name of\\nkindred, and of cousiiiship, was enough. Those slender\\nties, that prove slight as gossamer in the rending atmosphere\\n155 of a metropolis, l)ind faster, as we found it, in hearty,\\nhomely, loving Hertfordshire. In five minutes we were as\\nthoroughly acquainted as if we had been born and bred up\\ntogether were familiar, even to the calling each other by\\nour Christian names. So Christians should call one another.\\n160 To have seen Bridget, and her it was like the meeting of the\\ntwo scriptural cousins There was a grace and dignity, an\\namplitude of form and stature, answering to her mind, in\\nthis farmer s wife, which would have shined in a palace\\nor so we thought it. We were made Avelcome by husband\\n1G5 and wife equally we, and our friend that was with us. I\\nhad almost forgotten him but B. F. will not so soon forget\\nthat meeting, if peradventure he shall read this on the far\\ndistant shores where the kangaroo haunts. The fatted calf\\nwas made ready, or rather Avas already so, as if in anticipation\\n170 of our connng; and, after an appropriate glass of native wine,\\nnever let me forget with what honest pride this hospitable\\ncousin made us proceed to Wheathampstead, to introduce us\\n(as some new-found rarity) to her mother and sister Glad-\\nmans, who did indeed know something more of us, at a\\n175 time when she almost knew nothing. With what corres-\\nponding kindness yve were received by them also how\\nBridget s memory, exalted by the occasion, warmed into a\\nthousand half-obliterated recollections of things and persons,\\nto my utter astonishment, and her own and to the astound-\\n180 ment of B. F. who sat by, almost the only thing that was", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0046.jp2"}, "47": {"fulltext": "MACKERY END, IN nERTFORDSHIEE. 39\\nhot a cousin there, old effaced images of more than half-\\nforgotten names and circumstances still crowding back\\nupon her, as words written in lemon come out upon exposure\\nto a friendly warmth, when I forget all this, then may my\\ncountry cousins forget me and Bridget no more remember, 185\\nthat in the days of weakling infancy I was her tender charge\\nas I have been her care in foolish manhood since in\\nthose pretty pastoral walks, long ago, about Mackery End, in\\nHertfordshire.", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0047.jp2"}, "48": {"fulltext": "BLAKESMOOR IN H SHIRE\\nI DO not know a pleasure more affecting than to range at\\nwill over the deserted apartments of some fine old family\\nmansion. The traces of extinct grandeur admit of a better\\npassion than envy and contemplations on the great and\\nfi good, whom we fancy in succession to have been its in-\\nhabitants, weave for us illusions, incompatible with the\\nbustle of modern occupancy, and vanities of foolish present\\naristocracy. The same difference of feeling, I think, attends\\nus between entering an empty and a crowded church. In\\n10 the latter it is chance but some present human trailty an\\nact of inattention on the part of some of the auditory or\\na trait of affectatitm, or worse, vain-glory on that of the\\npreacher puts us by our best thoughts, disharmonising the\\nplace and the occasion. But wouldst thou know the beauty\\n15 of holiness? go alone on some week-day, borrowing the\\nkeys of good Master Sexton, traverse the cool aisles of\\nsome country church think of the piety that has kneeled\\nthere the congregations, old and young, that have found\\nconsolation there the meek pastor the docile parishioner.\\n20 With no disturbing emotions, no cross conflicting comparisons,\\ndrink in the tranquillity of the place, till thou thyself become\\nas fixed and motionless as the marble effigies that kneel and\\nweep around thee.\\nJourneying northward lately, I could not resist going some\\n25 few miles out of my road to look upon the remains of an\\nold great house with which I had been impressed in this\\nway in infancy. I was apprised that the owner of it had\\nlately pulled it down still I had a vague notion that it\\ncoxild not all have perished, that so much solidity with", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0048.jp2"}, "49": {"fulltext": "BLAKESMOOR IN H SHIRB. 41\\nmagnificence could not have been crushed all at once into 30\\nthe mere dust and rubbish which I found it.\\nThe work of ruin had proceeded with a swift hand indeed,\\nand the demolition of a few weeks had reduced it to an\\nantiquity.\\n1 was astonished at the indistinction of everything. 35\\nWhere had stood the great gates What bounded tlic,\\ncourt-yard 1 Whereabout did the out-hou.sos commence\\nA few bricks only lay as representatives of that which was\\nso stately and so spacious.\\nDeath does not shrink up his human victim at this rate. 40\\nThe burnt ashes of a man weigh more in their projiortion.\\nHad I seen these brick-and-mortar knaves at tluur proce. js\\nof destruction, at the plucking of every ])anel I sliould have\\nfelt the varlets at my heart. I should have cried out to\\nthem to spare a plank at least out of the cheerful store-room, 45\\nin whose hot window-seat I used to sit and read Cowley,\\nwith the grass-plot before, and the hum and flappings of that\\none solitary wasp that ever haunted it about me it is in\\nmine ears now, as oft as summer returns or a panel of the\\nyellow-room. 50\\nWhy, every plank and panel of tliat house for me had\\nmagic in it. The tapestried bed-rooms\u00e2\u0080\u0094 tapestry so much\\nbetter than painting not adorning merely, but peopling tlie\\nwainscots at which childhood ever and anon would steal a\\nlook, shifting its coverlid (replaced as quickly) to exercise 55\\nits tender courage in a momentary eye-encounter with those\\nstern bright visages, staring reciprocally\u00e2\u0080\u0094 all Ovid on the\\nwalls, in colours vivider than his descriptions. Actteon in\\nmid sprout, with the unappeasable priulery of Diana and\\nthe still more provoking, and almost culinary coolness of 60\\nDan Plioebus, eel-fashion, deliberately divesting of Marsyas.\\nThen, that haunted room in which old Mrs. Battle died\\nwhereinto I have crept, but always in the day-time, with\\na passion of fear and a sneaking curiosity, terror-tainted,\\nto hold communication with the past. How shall they build 65\\nit up aijahi\\nIt was an old deserted place, yet not so long deserted but", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0049.jp2"}, "50": {"fulltext": "42 lamb s essays.\\nthat traces of the splendour of past inmates were everywhere\\napparent. Its furniture was still standing even to the\\n70 tarnished gilt leather battledores, and crumbling feathers of\\nshuttlecocks in the nursery, which told that children had\\nonce played there. But I was a lonely child, and had the\\nrange at will of every apartment, knew every nook and\\ncorner, wondered and worshipped everywhere.\\n75 The solitude of childhood is not so much the mother of\\nthought, as it is the feeder of love, and silence, and admiration.\\nSo strange a passion for the place possessed me in those\\nyears, that, though there lay I shame to say how few roods\\ndistant from the mansion half hid by trees what I judged\\n80 some romantic lake, such was the spell which bound me to\\nthe house, and such my carefulness not to pass its strict and\\nproper precincts, that the idle waters lay unexplored for me\\nand not till late in life, curiosity prevailing over elder\\ndevotion, I found, to my astonishment, a pretty brawling\\n85 brook had been the Lacus Incognitus of my infancy.\\nVariegated views, extensive prospects and those at no\\ngreat distance from tlie house I was told of such what\\nwere they to me, being out of the boundaries of my Eden 1\\nSo far from a wish to roam, I would have drawn, methouglit,\\n90 still closer the fences of my chosen prison and have been\\nhemmed in by a yet securer cincture of those excluding\\ngarden walls. I could have exclaimed with that garden-\\nloving poet\\n95 Bind me, ye woodbines, in your twines\\nCurl me about, ye gadding vines\\nAnd oh, so close your circles lace,\\nThat I may never leave this place\\nBut, lest your fetters prove too weak,\\nIQQ Ere I your silken bondage break.\\nDo you, brambles, chain me too,\\nAnd, courteous briars, nail me through.\\nI was here as in a lonely temple. Snug fire-sides the\\nlow-built roof parlours ten feet by ten\u00e2\u0080\u0094 frugal boards, and\\n105 all the homeliness of home these were the condition of\\nmy birth the wholesome soil which I was planted ia.", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0050.jp2"}, "51": {"fulltext": "j BLAKESMOOR IN 11 SHIRE. 43\\n\\\\iTet, without impeachment to their tenderest lessons, 1 am\\nlot sorry to have had glances of something l)eyond and to\\njiave taken, if but a jicep, in childliood, at the contrasting\\niccidents of a great fortune. 110\\nTo have the feeling of gentility, it is not necessary to\\niiave been born gentle. The pride of ancestry may be had\\n])n cheaper terms than to be oljliged to an im] ()rtunatp race\\nif ancestors; and the coatless anti(puiry in his unembliizoncd\\n;ell, revolving the long line of a Mowbray s or De CliUbrd s 115\\npedigree, at those sounding names may warm himstdf into\\niS gay a vanity as these who do inherit them. The claims\\nof birth are ideal merely, and what herald shall go about to\\nstrip me of an idea? Is it trenchant to their swords? can\\nit be hacked off as a sjmr can? or torn away like a tarnisl.od 120\\ngarter 1\\nWhat else were the families of the great to lis? what\\npleasure shnuM we take in their tedious gcuiealogies, or their\\ncapitulatory brass monuments? Wliat to us the uninterrupted\\ncurrent of tlieir bloods, if our own did not answer within 125\\nus to a cognate and correspondent chjvation\\nOr wherefore else, tattered and diminislied Scutcheon\\nthat hung upon the time-Avorn walls of tliy i)rincely stairs,\\nBlakesmoor have I in childhood so oft stood poring upon\\nthe mystic characters thy emblematic supporters, witli their 130\\nprophetic Resurgam till, every dreg of peasantry purging\\noff, I received into myself Very Gentility? Thou Avert first\\nin my morning eyes and of nights hast detained my steps\\nfrom bedward, till it Avas but a step from gazing at thee to\\ndreaming on thee. 135\\nThis is the only true gentry by adoption the veritaljle\\nchange of blood, and not, as em[)irics have fabled, by trans-\\nfusion.\\nWho it Avas by dying tliat had earned the splendid trophy,\\nI know not, I inquired not l)ut its fading rags, and colours 140\\ncoliweb-stained, told that its subject Avas of tAVo centuries\\nback.\\nAnd Avhat if my ancestor at that date Avas some Damcetas\\nfeeding flocks not his OAvn, upon the hills of Lincoln\u00e2\u0080\u0094", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0051.jp2"}, "52": {"fulltext": "44 lamb s essays.\\n145 did I in less earnest vindicate to myself the family trappings\\nof this once proud ^gon? repaying by a backward triumph!\\nthe insults he might possibly have heaped in his life-time\\nupon my poor pastoral progenitor.\\nIf it were presumption so to speculate, the present owners\\n150 of the mansion had least reason to complain. They had\\nlong forsaken the old house of their fathers for a newer j\\ntrifle and I was left to appropriate to myself what images i\\nI could pick up, to raise my fancy, or to soothe my vanity.\\nI was the true descendant of those old W s and not\\n155 the present family of that name, who had fled the old waste\\nplaces.\\nMine was that gallery of good old family portraits, which\\nas I have gone over, giving them in fancy my own family\\nname, one and then another would seem to smile,\\n160 reaching forward from the canvas, to recognise the new\\nrelationship while the rest looked grave, as it seemed, at\\nthe vacancy in their dwelling, and thoughts of fled\\nposterity.\\nThat Beauty with the cool blue pastoral drapery, and a\\n165 lamb that hung next the great bay window with the\\nl right yellow H shire hair, and eye of watchet hue so\\nlike my Alice I am persuaded she was a true Elia\\nMildred Elia, I take it.\\nMine, too, Blakesmoor, was thy noble Marble Hall with\\n170 its mosaic pavements, and its Twelve Ceesars stately busts\\nin marble ranged round of whose countenances, young\\nreader of faces as I was, the frowning beauty of Nero, I\\nremember, had most of my wonder but the mild Galba had\\nmy love. There they stood in the coldness of death, yet\\n175 freshness of immortality.\\nMine too thy lofty Justice Hall, with its one chair of\\nauthority, high-backed and wickered, once the terror of luck-\\nless poacher, or self-forgetful maiden so common since, that\\nbats have roosted in it.\\n180 Mine too whose else? thy costly fruit-garden, with its\\nsun-baked southern wall the ampler pleasure-garden, rising\\nbackwards from the house in triple terraces, with flower-", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0052.jp2"}, "53": {"fulltext": "BLAEESMOOR IN H SHIKE. 45\\nbots now of palest lead, save that a speck here and there,\\nluaved from the elements, bespake their pristine state to have\\npeen gilt and glittering the verdant quarters backwarder 185\\n;till and, stretching still beyond, in old formality, thy firry\\nHivilderness, the haunt of the squirrel, and the day-long\\nJuvirmuring wood-})igeon, with that antique image in the\\nj^entre, God or Goddess I wist not; but child of Athens or\\nbid Kome paid never a sincerer worship to Pan or to 190\\nSyh aiiu.s in their native groves, than I to that fragmenial\\ntuystery.\\nWas it for this, that I kissed my childish hands too\\nfervently in your idol-worship, walks and windings of\\nBlakesmoor for this, or what sin of mine, has the plough 195\\npassed over your pleasant places 1 I sometimes think that\\nas men, when they die, do not die all, so of their\\nextinguished habitations there may be a hope a germ to\\nbe revivified.", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0053.jp2"}, "54": {"fulltext": "THE OLD BENCHERS\\nOF THE INNER TEMPLE\\nI WAS born, and passed the first seven years of my life, in\\nthe Temple. Its church, its halls, its gardens, its\\nfountain, its river, I had almost said for in those younij\\nyears, what was this kmg of rivers to me but a stream that\\n5 watered our pleasant places? these are of my oldest recol-\\nlections. I repeat, to this day, no verses to myseK more\\nfrequently, or with kindlier emotion, than those of Spenser,\\nwhere he speaks M this spot.\\nThere when they came, whereas those bricky towers,\\nK The which on Themmes brode aged back doth ride,\\nWhere now the studious lawyers have their bowers,\\nThere whylome wont the Templer knights to bide,\\nTill they decay through pride.\\nIndeed, it is the most elegant spot in the metropolis. What\\n15 a transition for a countryman visiting London for the first\\ntime the passing from the crowded Strand or Fleet-street,\\nby unexpected avenues, into its magnificient ample squares,\\nits classic green recesses 1 What a cheerful, liberal look\\nhath that portion of it, which, from three sides, overlooks\\n20 the greater garden, that goodly pile\\nOf building strong, albeit of Paper hight,\\nconfronting, with massy contrast, the lighter, older, more\\nfantastically shrouded one, named of Harcourt, with the\\ncheerful Crown-office Row (place of my kindly engendure),\\n25 right opposite the stately stream, which washes the garden-\\nfoot with her yet scarcely trade-poUuted waters, and seema", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0054.jp2"}, "55": {"fulltext": "THE OLD BENCHERS OF THE INNER TEMPLE. 47\\nlut just weaned from her Twickenham Naiades a man\\nyould give something to have been born in such places.\\niVhat a collegiate aspect has that fine Elizabethan hall,\\nv^here the fountain plays, which I have made to rise and 30\\nall, how many times to the astoundment of the young\\nirchins, my contemporaries, who, not being able to guess at\\nts recondite machinery, were almost tempted to hail the\\nvondrous work as magic! What an antique air had the\\niiow almost effaced sun-dials, with their moral inscriptions, 35\\nliceming coevals with that Time which they measured, and\\n:?,iO take their revelations of its flight immediately from\\n.leaven, holding correspondence with the fountain of light\\nilow would the dark line steal imperceptibly on, watched\\njy the eye of childhood, eager to detect its movement, never 40\\nlatched, nice as an evanescent cloud, or the first arrests of\\nj sleep 1\\nj Ah I yet doth beauty like a dial-hand\\nSteal from his figure, and no pace perceived I\\nWhat a dead thing is a clock, with its ponderous embowel- 45\\nments of lead and brass, its pert or solemn dulness of com-\\niaiunication, compared with the simple altar-like structure,\\nand sUent heart-language of the old dial It stood as the\\ngarden god of Christian gardens. Why is it almost every-\\ntvhere vanished 1 If its business-use be superseded by more 50\\nelaborate inventions, its moral uses, its beauty, might have\\npleaded for its continuance. It spoke of moderate labours,\\nof pleasures not protracted after sun-set, of temperance, and\\ngood hours. It was the primitive clock, the horologe of the\\nfirst world. Adam could scarce have missed it in Paradise. 55\\nIt was the measure appropriate for sweet plants and flowers\\nto spring by, for the birds to apportion their silver warblings\\nby, for flocks to pasture and be led to fold by. The shepherd\\ncarved it out quaintly in the sun and, turning philosopher\\nby the very occupation, provided it with mottoes more 60\\ntouching than tombstones. It was a pretty device of the\\ngardener, recorded by Marvell, who, in the days of artificial\\ngardening, made a dial out of herbs and flowers. I must", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0055.jp2"}, "56": {"fulltext": "85\\n90\\n48 lamb s essays.\\nquote his verses a little higher up, for they are full, as _\\n65 his serious poetry was, of a witty delicacy. They will i]\\ncome in awkwardly, I hope, in a talk of fountains, and si]\\ndials. He is speaking of sweet garden scenes\\nWhat wondrous life is this I lead 1\\nRipe apples drop about my head.\\n70 The luscious clusters of the vine\\nUpon my mouth do crush their wine.\\nThe nectarine, and curious peach,\\nInto my hands themselves do reach.\\nStumbling on melons, as I pass,\\n75 Insnared with flowers, I fall on grass.\\nMeanwhile the mind from pleasure less\\nWithdraws into its happiness\\nThe mind, that ocean, where each kind\\nDoes straight its own resemblance find\\n80 Yet it creates, transcending these,\\nFar other worlds, and other seas;\\nAnnihilating all that s made\\nTo a green thought in a green shade.\\nHere at the fountain s sliding foot.\\nOr at some fruit-tree s mossy root,\\nCasting the body s vest aside.\\nMy soul into the boughs does glide\\nThere, like a bird, it sits and sings,\\nThen whets and claps its silver wings.\\nAnd, till prepared for longer flight,\\nWaves in its plumes the various light.\\nHow well the skilful gardener drew.\\nOf flowers and herbs, this dial new\\nWhere, from above, the milder sun\\n95 Does through a fragrant zodiac run\\nAnd, .as it works, the industrious bee\\nComputes its time as well as we.\\nHow could such sweet and wholesome hours\\nBe reckon d, but with herbs and flowers\\nThe artificial fountains of the metropolis are, in like\\nmanner, fast vanishing. Most of them are dried up, or\\nbricked over. Yet, where one is left, as in that little green i\\nnook behind the South-Sea House, what a freshness it gives\\nto the dreary pile Four little winged marble boys used to\\nFrom a copy of verses entitled The Garden.\\n100", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0056.jp2"}, "57": {"fulltext": "THE OLD BENCHERS OF THE INNER TEMPLE. 49\\nlY their virgin fancies, spouting out ever fresli stream. 105\\n)m their innocent-wanton lips in the square of Lmcx. n s\\n^B, when I was no bigger than they were figured Ihey\\n1b gone, and the spring choked up. The fashion, they tell\\n3, is gone by, and these things are esteemed chi dish\\niiy not then gratify children, by letting them stand U 10\\niwyers, I suppose, were children once. They are awaken-\\na images to them at least. Why must everything smack\\nman and mannish? Is the world all grown up? Is\\nlaldhood dead? Or is there not m the bosoms of the\\nisest and the best some of the child s heart left, to respond 115\\nits earliest enchantments 1 The figures^ were grotesque,\\nre the stiff-wigged living figures, that still flitter and chatter\\n,out that area, less Gothic in appearance? or is the splutter\\ntheir hot rhetoric one half so refreshing and innocent as\\nle little cool playful streams those exploded cherubs 120\\nThey have lately gothicised the entrance to the Inner\\nemple-hall, and the library front: to assimilate them, I\\nippose, to the body of the hall, winch they do not a all\\n:.semble What is become of the winged horse that stood 125\\n.er the former? a stately arms! and who has removed\\nlose frescoes of the Virtues, which Italianised the end of\\nle Paper-buildings ?-my first hint of allegory! They\\nuist account to me for these things, which I miss so greatly\\nThe terrace is, mdeed, left, which we used to call the 130\\narade; but the traces are passed away of the footsteps\\n^hich made its pavement awful! It is become common\\nnd profane. The old benchers had it almost sacred to\\nhemselves, in the forepart of the day at least. ^l^^y^J^g^^t\\not be sidLd or jostled. Their air and dress asserted the 135\\n;arade. You left wide spaces betwixt you, when you\\nmassed them. We walk on even terms with their successors.\\n:he roguish eye of J H, ever ready to be delivered of a\\n3st, almost invites a stranger to vie a repar ee with it. But\\nl.hat insolent familiar durst have mated Thomas Coventry HO\\n-whose person was a quadrate, his step_ massy and\\nlephantine, his face square as the lion s, his gait peremptory", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0057.jp2"}, "58": {"fulltext": "50 lamb s essays.\\nand path-keeping, indivertible from liis way as a movii\\ncolumn, the scarecrow of his inferiors, the brow-beater\\n145 equals and superiors, who made a solitude of childrq\\nwherever he came, for they fled his insufferable presence, i!\\nthey would have shunned an Elisha bear. His growl w;\\nas thunder in their ears, whether he spake to them in mirt\\nor in rebuke, his invitatory notes being, indeed, of all, tl\\n150 most rei)ulsive and horrid. Clouds of snuff, aggravating th\\nnatural terrors of his speech, broke from each majesti\\nnostril, darkening the air. He took it, not by pinches, h\\\\\\\\\\na palmful at once, diving for it under the mighty flaps d\\nhis old-fashioned waistcoat pocket; his waistcoat red an^\\n155 angry, his coat dark rappee, tinctured by dye original, am\\nby adjuncts, with buttons of obsolete gold. And so h\\npaced the terrace.\\nBy his side a milder form was sometimes to be seen th\\npensive gentiUty of Samuel Salt. They were coevals, ani\\nIGO had nothing but that and their benchership in common-\\nIn politics Salt was a whig, and Coventry a staunch tory\\nMany a sarcastic growl did the latter cast out for Coventry\\nhad a rough spinous humour at the political confederate.\\nof his associate, which rebounded from the gentle bosom ol\\n165 the latter like cannon-balls from wool. You could not ruffld\\nSamuel Salt.\\nS. had the reputation of being a very clever man, and of\\nexcellent discernment in the chamber practice of the law.\\nI suspect his knowledge did not amount to much. When\\n170 a case of difficult disposition of money, testamentary or\\notherwise, came before him, he ordinarily handed it over\\nwith a few instructions to his man Lovel, who was a quick\\nlittle fellow, and would despatch it out of hand by the light\\nof natural understanding, of which he had an unconnnon\\n175 share. It was incredible what repute for talents S. enjoyed\\nby the mere trick of gravity. He was a shy man a child\\nmight pose him in a minute indolent and procrastinating\\nto the last degree. Yet men would give him credit for vast\\napplication, in spite of himself. He was not to be trusted\\n180 with himself with impunity. He never dressed for a", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0058.jp2"}, "59": {"fulltext": "THE OLD BENCHERS OF THE INNER TEMPLE. 51\\n[ij dinner party but he forgot his sword they wore swords\\nthen or some other necessary part of his equipage. Lovel\\nV had his eye upon him on all these occasions, and ordinarily\\ngave him his cue. If there was anything which he could\\nI speak unseasonably, he was sure to do it. lie was to dine 185\\nj at a relative s of the unfortunate Miss Blandy on the day of\\nher execution and L. who ha l a wary foresight of his\\nI probable hallucinations, before he set out, schooled him\\nwith great anxiety not in any possible manner to allude\\nto her story tliat day. S. promised faitlifidly to observe 190\\nii the injunction. He had not been seated in the parlour,\\nj where the company was expecting the dinner summons, four\\nminutes, when, a pause in the conversation ensuing, he got\\nI up, looked out of window, and pulling down his ruffles\\nan ordinary motion with him observed, it was a gloomy 195\\nday, and added, IMiss Blandy must be hanged by this\\nI time, I suppose. Instances of this sort were perpetual.\\nYet S. was thought by some of the greatest men of his\\ntime a fit person to be consulted, not alone in matters\\npertaining to the law, but in the ordinary niceties and 200\\nj embarrassments of conduct from force of manner entirely.\\nHe never laughed. He had the same good fortune among\\nj- the female world, was a known toast with the ladies, and\\none or two are said to have died for love of him I suppose,\\nbecause he never trifled or talked gallantry with them, or 205\\npaid them, indeed, hardly common attentions. He had a\\nfine face and person, but wanted, methought, the spirit that\\nshould have shown them off with advantage to the women.\\nHis eye lacked lustre. Not so, thought Susan P wIki,\\nat the advanced age of sixty, was seen, in the cold evening 210\\ntime, unaccompanied, wetting the pavement of B d Row,\\nwith tears that fell in drops which might be heard, because\\nher friend had died that day he, whom she had pursued\\nwith a hopeless passion, for the last forty years a passion,\\nwhich years could not extinguish or abate nor the long- 215\\nresolved, yet gently -enforced, puttings off of unrelenting\\nbachelorhood dissuade from its cherished purpose. Mild\\nSusan P thou hast now thy friend in heaven 1", "height": "2518", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0059.jp2"}, "60": {"fulltext": "52 lamb s essays.\\nThomas Coventry was a cadet of the noble family of that]\\n220 name. He passed his youth in contracted circumstances,\\nwhich gave him early those parsimonious habits which inj\\nafter-life never forsook him so that, with one windfall or I\\nanother, about the time I knew him he was master of four\\nor five hundred thousand pounds nor did he look, or i\\n225 walk, wortli a moidore less. He lived in a gloomy j\\nhouse opposite the pump in Serjeant s -inn, Fleet-street.\\nJ., the counsel, is doing self-imposed penance in it, for what\\nreason I divine not, at this day. C had an agreeable seat\\nat North Cray, where he seldom spent above a day or\\n230 two at a time in the summer but preferred, during the\\nhot months, standing at his window in this dump, close,\\nwell-like mansion, to watch, as he said, the maids drawing\\nwater all day long. I suspect he had his within-door\\nreasons for the preference. Hie currns et anna fuere. He\\n235 might think his treasures more safe. His house had the\\naspect of a strong-box. C. was a close hunks a hoarder\\nrather than a miser or, if a miser, none of the mad Elwes\\nbreed, Avho have brought discredit upon a character, which\\ncannot exist Avithout certain admiralile points of steadiness\\n240 and unity of purpose. One may hate a true miser, but can-\\nnot, I susjiect, so easily despise him. Ey taking care of the\\npence, he is often enabled to part with the pounds, upon a\\nscale that leaves us careless generous fellows halting at an\\nimmeasurable distance behind. C. gave away 30,000?. at\\n245 once in his lifetime to a blind charity. His housekeeping\\nwas severely looked after, but he kept the table of a gentle-\\nman. He would know who came in and who went out of\\nhis house, but his kitchen chimney was never suffered to\\nfreeze.\\n250 Salt was his opposite in this, as in all never knew\\nwhat he was worth in the world and having but a com-\\npetency for his rank, whicli his indolent habits were little\\ncalcidated to improve, might have sufi ered severely if he\\nhad not had honest people about him. Lovel took care of\\n255 everything. He was at once his clerk, his good servant, his\\ndresser, his friend, his flapper, his guide, stop-watch,", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0060.jp2"}, "61": {"fulltext": "THE OLD BENCHERS OF THE INNER TEMPLE. 53\\nj.iditor, treasurer. He did nothing without consulting Lovel,\\nji-? failed in anything without expecting and fearing his\\nf Jmonishing. He put himself almost too much in his\\nf ,ands, had they not been the purest in the world. He 260\\nfijisigned his title almost to respect as a master, if L. could\\njVer have forgotten for a moment that he was a servant.\\nj I knew this Lovel. He was a man of an incorrigible\\njind losing honesty. A good fellow withal, and Avould\\ntrike. In the cause of the oppressed he never considered 265\\niiequalities, or calculated the number of his opponents.\\nlie once wrested a sword out of the hand of a man of\\nluality that had drawn upon him and pommelled him\\neverely Avith the hilt of it. The swordsman had offered\\nnsult to a female an occasion upon which no odds against 270\\nlim could have prevented the interference of Lovel. He\\nyould stand next day bareheaded to the same person,\\nnodestly to excuse his interference for L. never forgot\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2ank, where something better was not concerned. L. was\\nihe liveliest little fellow breathing, had a face as gay as 275\\njjrarrick s, whom he was said greatly to resemble (I have a\\nportrait of him which confirms it), possessed a fine turn for\\n.tiumorous poetry next to S^vift and Prior moulded heads\\nin clay or plaster of Paris to admiration, by the dint of\\nnatural genius merely; turned cribbage boards, and such small 280\\ncabinet toys, to perfection took a hand at quadrille or bowls\\nwith equal facility made punch better than any man of his\\ndegree in England had the merriest quips and conceits\\nand was altogether as brimful of rogueries and inventions as\\nyou could desire. He was a brother of the angle, moreover, 285\\nand just such a free, hearty, honest companion as Mr. Izaak\\nWalton would have chosen to go a fishing with. I saw him\\nin his old age and the decay of his faculties, palsy-smitten,\\nin the last sad stage of human Aveakness\u00e2\u0080\u0094 a remnant most\\nforlorn of what he was, yet even then his eye Avould light 290\\nup upon the mention of his favourite Garrick. He was\\ngreatest, he would say, in Bayes was upon the stage nearly\\nthroughout the whole performance, and as busy as a bee.\\nAt intervals, too, he would speak of his former life, and", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0061.jp2"}, "62": {"fulltext": "54 lamb s essays.\\n295 how lie came up a little boy from Lincoln to go to servic\\nand how his mother cried at parting with him, and hoA\\nhe returned, after some few years absence, in liis smart ne\\\\\\nlivery, to see her, and she blessed herself at the change, an i\\ncould hardly be brought to believe that it was her owi\\n300 bairn. And then, the excitement subsiding, he would weep\\ntill I have wished that sad second-childhood might have i\\nmother still to lay its head upon her lap. But the commoi\\nmother of us all in no long time after received him gentl})\\ninto hers. I\\n305 With Coventry, and with Salt, in their walks upon the\\nterrace, most commonly Peter Pierson would join to make!\\nup a third. They did not walk linked arm in arm in those\\ndays as now our stout triumvirs sweep the streets,\\nbut generally with both hands folded behind them for state,\\n310 or with one at least behind, the other carrying a cane. P. was\\na benevolent, but not a prepossessing man. He had that in\\nhis face Avhicli you could not term unhappiness it rather\\nimplied an incapacity of being happy. His cheeks Avere\\ncolourless even to whiteness. His look was uninviting,\\n315 r( sembling (but without his sourness) that of our great\\nphilanthropist. I know that he did good acts, but I could\\nnever make out what he tvas. Contemporary with these,\\nbut subordinate, was Daines Barrington another oddity\\nhe wallced burly and square in imitation, I think, of\\n320 Coventry howbeit he attained not to the dignity of his\\nprototype. Nevertheless, he did pretty well, upon the\\nstrength of being a tolerable antiquarian, and having a\\nbrother a bishop. When the account of his year s treasurer-\\nship came to be audited, the following singular charge\\n325 was unanimously disallowed by the bench Item, dis-\\nbursed Mr. Allen the gardener, twenty shillings, for stuif\\nto poison the sparrows, by my orders. Next to him was\\nold Barton a jollj negation, who took upon him the\\nordering of the bills of fare for the parliament chamber,\\n330 where the benchers dine answering to the combination\\nrooms, at College much to the easement of his less\\nEpicurean brethren. I know nothing more of him. Then", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0062.jp2"}, "63": {"fulltext": "THE OLD BENCHERS OF THE INNER TEMPLE. 55\\nE iiJead, and Twopeuy Read, good-humoured and personable\\n171\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Twopeiiy, good-humoured, but thin, and felicitous in jests\\niipon his own figure. If T. was thin, Wharry was attenuated 33f)\\nlund fleeting. Many must remember him (for he was rather\\n:j)f later date) and his singular gait, which was performed\\nJ[)y tliree steps and a jumj) regularly succeeding. The steps\\nI were little efforts, like tliat of a child beginning to walk;\\nhe jump comparatively vigorous, as a foot to an inch. 340\\nWhere he learned this figure, or what occasioned it, I could\\nI never discover. It was neither graceful in itself, nor seemed\\nBjto answer tlie purpose any better than common walking.\\n3 The extreme tenuity of his frame, I suspect, set him upon it.\\nIt was a trial of poising. Twopeny would often rally him upon 345\\nhis leanness, and hail him as brother Lusty but W. had no\\nrelish of a joke. His features were spiteful. I have heard\\nthat he would pinch his cat s ears extremely, when anything\\nhad oifended him. Jackson the omniscient Jackson he was\\ncalled was of this period. He had the reputation of 350\\npossessing more multifarious knowledge than any man of\\nhis time. He was the Friar Bacon of the less literate\\nportion of the Temple. I remember a pleasant passage, of\\nthe cook applying to him, with much formality of apology,\\nfor instructions how to write down edge bone of beef in his 355\\nbill of commons. He was supposed to know, if any man in\\nthe world did. He decided the orthograj)hy to be as I\\nhave given it fortifying his authoi ity with such anatomical\\nreasons as dismissed the manciple (for the time) learned and\\nhappy. Some do spell it yet, perversely, aitch bone, from 360\\na fanciful resemblance between its shape and that of the\\naspirate so denominated. I had almost forgotten Mingay\\nwith the. iron hand but he was somewhat later. He had\\nlost his right hand by some accident, and supplied it with a\\ngrappling-hook, which he wielded with a tolerable adroitness. 365\\nI detected the substitute, before I was old enough to reason\\nwhether it were artificial or not. I remember the astonish-\\nment it raised in me. He was a blustering, loud-talking\\nperson and I reconciled the phenomenon to my ideas as an\\nemblem of power somewhat like the horns in the forehead 370", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0063.jp2"}, "64": {"fulltext": "56 lamb s essays.\\nof ]\\\\Iicliael Angolo s Moses. Baron Maseres, who walks (or\\n(lid till very lately) in tlie costume of the reign of George i\\nthe Second, closes my imperfect recollections of the old\\nbenchers of the Inner Temple.\\n375 Fantastic forms, whither are ye fled 1 Or, if the like of\\nyou exist, why exist they no more for me 1 Ye inexplicable,\\nlialf-understood appearances, why comes in reason to tear\\naway the preternatural mist, l)right or gloomy, that en-\\nshrouded you 1 Why make ye so sorry a figure in my relation,\\n380 who made up to me to my childish eyes the mythology\\nof the Temple 1 In tliose days I saw Gods, as old men\\ncovered with a mantle, walking upon the earth. Let the\\ndreams of classic idolatry perish, extinct be the fairies\\nand fairy trumpery of legendary fabling, in the heart of\\n385 childhood, there will, for ever, spring up a well of innocent\\nor wholesome superstition the seeds of exaggeration will\\nbe busy there, and vital from every-day forms educing the\\nunknown and the uncommon. In that little Goshen there\\nwill be light, when the grown world flounders about in the\\n390 darkness of sense and materiality. While childhood, and\\nwhile dreams, reducing cliildhood, shall be left, imagination\\nshall not have spread her holy wings totally to fly the earth.\\nP.S. I have done injustice to the soft shade of Samuel\\nSalt. See what it is to trust to imperfect memory, and the\\n395 erring notices of childhood Yet I protest I always thought\\nthat he had been a bachelor This gentleman, R. IST.\\ninforms me, married young, and losing his lady in chiklbed,\\nwithin the first year of their union, fell into a deep melan-\\ncholy, from the effects of which, probaljly, he never\\n400 thoroughly recovered. In what a new light does this place\\nhis rejection (O call it by a gentler name of mild Susan\\nP unravelling into lieauty certain peculiarities of this\\nvery shy and retiring character Henceforth let no one\\nreceive the narratives of Elia for true records They are, in\\n405 truth, but shadows of fact verisimilitudes, not verities\\nor sitting but upon the remote edges and outskirts of\\nhistory. He is no such honest chronicler as R. N., and\\nwould have done better perhaps to have consulted that", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0064.jp2"}, "65": {"fulltext": "THE OLD BEXCllERS OF THE INNER TEMPLE, 57\\ngentleman, before he sent these incondite reminiscences to\\npress. But the worthy sub-treasurer who respects his old 410\\nand his new masters would but have been puzzled at the\\nindecorous lilierties of Elia. The good man wots not, per-\\nad venture, of the licence which Mayazines have arrived at\\nin this plain-s]; )eaking age, or hardly dreams of their existence\\nbeyond the Ge)itleman s his furthest monthly excursions in 415\\nthis nature having Ijeen long contined to the holy ground of\\nhonest Urhaiis obituary. May it bo long before his own\\nname shall help to swell those columns of unenvied flattery!\\nMeantime, ye New iifiichers of the Iinier Temple,\\ncherish him kindly, for he is himself the kindliest of human 420\\ncreatures. Sliould inlirmities overtake him he is yet in\\ngreen and vigorous senility make allowances for them,\\nremembering that ye yourselves are old. So may the\\nWinged Horse, your ancient badge and cognisance, still\\nflourish so may future Hookers and Seldens illustrate your 425\\nchurch and chambers so may the sparrows, in default of\\nmore melodious quiristers, unpoisoned hop about your\\nwalks so may the fresh-coloured, and cleanly nursery-maid,\\nwho, by leave, airs her playful charge in your stately\\ngardens, drop her prettiest blushing curtsy as ye pass, 430\\nreductive of juvenescent emotion so may the yomikers of\\nthis generation eye you, pacing your stately terrace, with the\\nsame superstitious veneration, with which the child Elia\\ngazed on the Old Worthies that solemnised the parade\\nbefore ye I 435", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0065.jp2"}, "66": {"fulltext": "OXFORD IN THE VACATION\\nCASTING a preparatory glance at the bottom of tliis\\narticle as the wary connoisseur in prints, with cursory\\neye, (wliich, while it reads, seems as though it read not,)\\nnever fails to consult the quis sculpsit in the corner, before\\n5 he pronounces some rare piece to be a Vivares, or a Woollet\\nmethinks I hear you exclaim, Reader, T17io is Elia?\\nBecause in my last I tried to divert thee with some half-\\nforgotten humours of some old clerks defunct, in an old\\nhouse of business, long since gone to decay, doubtless you\\n10 have already set me down in your mind as one of the self-\\nsame college a votary of the desk a notched and crept\\nscrivener one that sucks his sustenance, as certain sick\\npeople are said to do, through a quill.\\nWell, I do agnize something of the sort, I confess that it\\n15 is my humour, my fancy in the fore-part of the day, when\\nthe mind of your man of letters requires some relaxation\\n(and none better than such as at first sight seems most\\nabhorrent from his beloved studies) to while away some\\ngood hours of my time in the contemplation of indigos,\\n20 cottons, raw silks, piece-goods, flowered or otlierwise. In the\\nfirst place and then it sends you home with such\\nincreased appetite to your books not to say, tliat\\nyour outside sheets, and waste wra})pers of foolscap, do re-\\nceive into them, most kindly and naturally, the impression\\n25 of sonnets, epigrams, essays so that the very parings of a\\ncounting-house are, in some sort, the settings up of an author.\\nTbe enfranchised quill, that has plodded all the morning\\namong the cart-rucks of figures and ciphers, frisks and curvets\\n30 so at its ease over the flowery carpet-ground of a midnight", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0066.jp2"}, "67": {"fulltext": "OXFORD IN THE VACATION. 59\\nlissertation. It feels its promotion. So that you see,\\nipon the whole, the literary dignity of Elia is very little, if\\nit all, compromised in the condescension.\\nNot that, in my anxious detail of the many commodities\\nIncidental to the life of a puhlic office, I would be thought 35\\njlind to certain flaws, which a cunning carper might be able\\n,0 pick in this Joseph s vest. And here I must have leave, in\\nhe fulness of my soul, to regret the abolition, and doing-\\niway-with altogether, of those consolatory interstices, and\\nsprinklings of freedom, through the four seasons, the red- 40\\netter days, now become, to all intents and purposes, dead-\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0etter days. There was Paul, and Stephen, and Barnabas\\nAndrew and John, men famous ui old times\\n\u00e2\u0080\u0094we were used to keep all their days holy, as long back as I\\nvv^as at school at Christ s. I remember their effigies, by the 45\\nsame token, in the old Baskett Prayer Book. There hung\\nPeter in his uneasy posture holy Bartlemy in the trouble-\\nsome act of flaying, after the famous Marsyas by Spagnoletti.\\n1 honoured them all, and could ahnost have Avept the\\ndefalcation of Iscariot so much did we love to keep holy 50\\nlUemorics sacred only methought I a little grudged at the\\ncoalition of the hette?- Jiide with Simon clubbing (as it were)\\ntheir sanctities together, to make up one poor gaudy-day be-\\ntween them as an economy unworthy of the dispensation.\\nThese were bright visitations in a scholar s and a clerk s 55\\nlife far off their coming shone. I was as good as an\\nalmanac in those days. I could have told you such a samt s-\\nday falls out next week, or the week after. Peradventure the\\nEpiphany, by some periodical infelicity, would, once in six\\nyears, merge in a Sabbath. Now am I httle better than one 60\\nof the profane. Let me not be thought to arraign the wisdom\\nof my civil superiors, who have judged the further observa-\\ntion of these holy tides to be papistical, superstitious. Only\\nin a custom of such long standing, methinks, if their Holi-\\nnesses the Bishops had, in decency, been first sounded 65\\nbut I am wading out of my depths. I am not the man to\\ndecide the limits of civil and ecclesiastical authority 1", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0067.jp2"}, "68": {"fulltext": "60 lamb s essays.\\nI\\nam plain EHa no Selden, nor Archbishop Usher thotip\\nat present in the thick of their books, here in the heart\\n70 learning, under the shadow of the mighty Bodley.\\nI can here play the gentleman, enact the student.- 1\\nsuch a one as myself, who has been defrauded in his youu\\nyears of the sweet food of academic institution, nowhere\\nso pleasant, to while away a few idle weeks at, as one\\n75 other of the Universities. Their vacation, too, at this tin\\nof the year, falls in so pat with ours. Here I can take rn\\nwalks unmolested, and fancy myself of what degree or staiii\\ning I jilcase. I seem admitted ad eundem. I fetch up p:if\\nopportunities. I can rise at the chapel-boll, and dream tin\\n80 it rings for me. In moods of humility I can be a Sizar, or\\nServitor. Wlien the peacock vein rises, I strut a Gentlema\\nCommoner. In graver moments I proceed T Taster of Art:\\nIndeed I do not think I am much unlike that respectablj\\ncharacter. I have seen your dim-eyed vergers, and bed\\n85 makers in spectacles, drop a bow or a curtsy, as I pasfj\\nwisely mistaking me for something of the sort. I go abou^\\nin black, which favours the notion. Only in Christ Churcl\\nreverend quadrangle, I can be content to pass for nothing\\nshort of a Seraphic Doctor.\\n90 The walks at these times are so much one s own, the tal\\ntrees of Christ s, the groves of Magdalen The halls deserted\\nand with open doors inviting one to slip in uuperceived, anc\\npay a devoir to some Founder, or noble or royal Benefactress\\n(that should have been ours), whose portrait seems to smile\\n95 upon their over-looked beadsman, and to adopt me for theii!\\nown. Then, to take a peep in by the way at the butteries,!\\nand sculleries, redolent of antique hospitality tlie immense\\ncaves of kitchens, kitchen fire-places, cordial recesses oven^\\nwhose first pies were baked four centuries ago and spits\\n100 which have cooked for Cliaucer Not the meanest minister\\namong the dishes but is hallowed to me through his imagina-\\ntion, and the Cook goes forth a Manciple\\nAntiquity thou wondrous charm, what art thou that\\nbeing nothing, art everything When thou icert, thou wert\\n105 not antiquity then thou wert nothing, but hadst a remoter", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0068.jp2"}, "69": {"fulltext": "OXFORD m THE VACATION. 61\\nuiquity, as thou calledst it, to look back to Avith blind\\nleration; thou tliyself being to thyself flat, jejune, modern/\\nlat mystery lurks in this retroversion or what half\\nfhnses* are we, that cannot look forward with the same\\nlatry with which we for ever revert. The mighty future 110\\n15 nothing, being everything! the past is everything, being\\n,1 What were thy dark ages Surely the sun rose as brightly\\n,i n as now, and man got him to his work in the morning.\\nIiy is it we can never hear mention of them without an ll.j\\nompanying feeling, as though a palpable obscure had\\nj.imed the face of tilings, and that our ancestors wandered\\nand fro groping\\nA-bove all thy rarities, old Oxenford, what do most arride\\n,i solace me, are thy repositories of mouldering learning, 120\\nT shelves\\nWhat a place to be in is an old library It seems as though\\nj the souls of all the writers, that have beqi;eathcd their\\nlOurs to these Bodleians, were reposing here, as in some\\nrmitory, or middle state. I do not want to handle, to pro- I J. S\\n16 the leaves, their winding-sheets. I could as soon\\n^lodgG a shade. I seem to iidiale learning, walking amid\\nuir foliage; and the odour of their old moth-scented cover-\\nijs is fi agrant as the first bloom of those sciential apples\\njiich grew amid the happy orchard. 130\\nI Still less have I curiosity to disturb the elder repose of\\nj3S.f Those varioi led! ones, so tempting to the more\\niidite palates, do but disturb and unsettle my faith. I am\\nHerculanean raker. The credit of the three witnesses\\nght have slept unimpeached for me. I leave these curio- 135\\nies to Porson and to G. D. whom, by the way, I found\\nsy as a moth over some rotten archive, rummaged out of\\nne seldom-explored press, in a nook at Oriel. With long\\nring, he is grown almost into a book. He stood as\\nssive as one by the side of the old shelves. I longed to MO\\nJanuses of one face. Sir Thomas Browne.\\nt See Note at the end of the essay.", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0069.jp2"}, "70": {"fulltext": "i\\n62 lamb s essays.\\nnew-coat him in rnssia, and assign him his place. He migl\\nhave m-ustered for a tall Scapula.\\nD. is assiduous in his visits to these seats of learning. K\\ninconsiderable portion of his moderate fortune, I apprehen(;\\n145 is consumed in journeys between them and Cliiford s-inn-\\nwhere, like a dove on the asp s nest, he has long taken u\\nhis unconscious abode, amid an incongruous assembly v\\nattorneys, attorneys clerks, apparitors, promoters, vermin o\\nthe law, among whom he sits in calm and sinless peace.\\n150 The fangs of the law pierce him not the winds of litigatiot\\nblow over his humble chambers the hard sheriff s offic(\\nmoves his hat as he passes legal nor illegal discourtesy\\ntouches him -none thinks of offering violence or injustice ti]\\nhim\u00e2\u0080\u0094 you would as soon strike an alxstract idea.\\n155 D. has been engaged, he tells me, through a course c^\\nlaborious years, in an investigation into all curious mattel\\nconnected with the two Universities and has lately hi\\nupon a MS. collection of charters, relative to C b;\\nwhich he hopes to settle some disputed points particular!\\nIGO tliat long controversy between them as to priority of fouudn\\ntion. The ardour with which he engages in these libera\\npursuits, I am afraid, has not met with all tlie encouragement\\nit deserved, either here or at C Your caputs, and heads\\nof colleges, care less than anybod}^ else about these questions.^\\n165 -Contented to suck the milky fountains of their Alma\\nMaters, without inquiring into the venerable gentlewoman s\\nyears, they rather hold such curiosities to be impertinent\\nnnreverend. They have their good glebe lands in manv,\\nand care not much to rake into the title deeds. I gather, at\\n170 least, so much from other sources, for 1). is not a man to\\nconqilain.\\nD. started like an unbroke heifer, when I interrupted him.\\nA priori it was not very probable that we should have met in!\\nOriel. But D. would have done the same, had I accosted\\n175 him on the sudden in his own walks in Clifford s Inn, or in\\nthe Temple. In addition to a provoking short-sightedness\\n(the effect of late studies and watchings at the midnight\\noil), D. is the most absent of men. He made a call the other", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0070.jp2"}, "71": {"fulltext": "OXFORD IN THE VACATION. bu\\nWorning at our friend M. s in Bedford Square; and, finding\\nobody^ at lionie, was usliered into the hall, where, asking for 180\\n,,en and ink, with great exactitude of purpose he enters me\\nlis name in the hook which ordinarily lies ahout in such\\n.laces, to record the failures of the untimely or unfortunate\\nl-isitor, and takes his leave with many ceremonies, and pro-\\nfessions of regret. Some two or three hours after, his 185\\n;valking destuues returned him into the same neighbourhood\\n.gain, and again the quiet image of the fireside circle at M. s\\n-Mrs. M. presiding at it like a Queen Lar, with pretty A. S.\\ni.t-her side\u00e2\u0080\u0094 striking irresistibly on his fancy, he makes\\nAnother call (forgetting that they were certainly not to 190\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0eturn from the country before that day week and dis-\\nqijiointed a second time, inquires for pen and paper as before\\nigain the bot.k is brought, and in the line just above that ni\\ni.vliich he is about to print his second name (his re-script)\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nlis first name (scarce dry) looks out upon him like another 195\\n|5osia, or as if a man should suddenly encounter his own\\nj duplicate The eiiect may be conceived. D. made many a\\nrood resolution against any such lapses in future. I hope he\\nwill not keep tliem too rigorously.\\nFor with G. L).\u00e2\u0080\u0094 to be absent from the body, is sometimes 200\\n|/not to speak it profanely) to be present with the Lord. At\\nI the very time when, personally encountering thee, he passes\\non with no recognition or, being stopped, starts like a\\nthing surprised\u00e2\u0080\u0094 at that moment, reader, he is on Mount\\nXabor\u00e2\u0080\u0094 or Parnassus\u00e2\u0080\u0094 or co-sphered with Plato\u00e2\u0080\u0094 or, with 205\\nHarrington, framing immortal commonwealths devising\\nsome plan of amelioration to thy country or thy species\\nperadventure meditating some individual kindness or\\ncourtesy, to be done to thee thyself, the returning con-\\nsciousness of which made him to start so guiltily at thy 210\\nobtruded personal presence.\\nD. commenced life, after a course of hard study in the\\nhouse of Pure Emanuel, as usher to a knavish fanatic\\nschoolmaster at ^S at a salary of eight pounds per\\nannum, with board and lodging. Of this poor stipend, he 215\\nnever received above half in all the laborious years he served", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0071.jp2"}, "72": {"fulltext": "64 lamb s essays.\\nthis man. He tells a pleasant anecdote, that when poverty,\\nstaring out at his ragged knees, has sometimes compelled\\nhim, against the modesty of his nature, to hint at arrears,\\n220 Dr. would take no immediate notice, but after supi)cr,\\nwhen the school was called together to evensong, he would\\nnever fail to introduce some instructive homily against riches,\\nand the corrui)tion of the heart occasioned through the desire\\nof them ending with Lord, Keep Thy servants, above all\\n225 things, from the heinous sin of avarice. Having food and\\nraiment, lot us therewithal be content. Give me Agur s\\nwish and the like which, to the little auditory, sounded\\nlike a doctrine full of Christian prudence and simplicity, but\\nto poor D. was a receipt in full for that quarter s demand\\n230 at least.\\nAnd D. has been underworking for himself ever since\\ndrudging at low rates for unappreciating booksellers wast-\\ning his tine erudition in silent corrections of the classics,\\nand in those unostentatious but solid services to learning\\n235 which commonly fall to the lot of laborious scholars, who\\nhave not the heart to sell themselves to the best advantage.\\nHe has published poems, which do not sell, because their\\ncharacter is unobtrusive, like his own, and because he has\\nbeen too much absorbed in ancient literature to know what\\n240 the popular mark in poetry is, even if he could have hit it.\\nAnd, therefore, his verses are properly what ho terms them,\\ncrochets; voluntaries; odes to liberty and spring effusions;\\nlittle tributes and offerings, left behind him upon tables and\\nwindow-seats at parting from friends houses and from all\\n245 the inns of hospitality, where he has been courteously (or\\nbut tolerably) received in his pilgrimage. If his muse of\\nkindness halt a little behind the strong lines in fashion in\\nthis excitement-loving age, his prose is the best of the sort in\\nthe world, and exhibits a faithful transcript of his own\\n250 healthy, natural mind, and cheerful, innocent tone of con-\\nversation.\\nD. is delightful anywhere, but he is at the best in such\\nplaces as these. He cares not much for Bath. He is out of\\nhis element at Buxton, at Scarborough, or liarrowgate. TcU", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0072.jp2"}, "73": {"fulltext": "j OXFORD IN THE VACATION. 65\\nbam and the Isis are to him better than all the waters of 255\\nDamascus. On the Muses hill he is happy, and good, as\\nme of the Shepherds on the Delectable Mountains and\\nwhen he goes about with you to show you the balls and\\niolleges, you tbink you have with you the Interpreter at tlie\\nHouse Beautiful. 2C0\\nI Note. In the London Magazine was appended the following note\\nThere is something to me repugnant at any time in written hand.\\nThe text never seems determinate. Print settles it. I had thought\\njf the Lycidas as of a full-grown beauty as springing up with all its\\noarts absolute till, in an evil hour, I was shown the original copy of\\n.t, together with the other minor poems of its author, in the library\\n)f Trinity, kept like some treasure, to be proud of. I wish they had\\nLhrown them in the Cam, or sent them after the latter Cantos of\\nSpenser, into the Irish Channel. How it staggered me to see the fine\\nthings in their ore interlined, corrected as if their words were\\nOQortal, alterable, displaccable at pleasure as if they might have been\\ntherwise, and just as good as if inspiration were made up of parts,\\nind these fluctuating, successive, inditierent I will never go into the\\nrtforkshop of any great artist again, nor desire a sight of his picture\\ntill it is fairly off the easel no, not if Kaphael were to be alive again,\\nind painting another Galatea,", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0073.jp2"}, "74": {"fulltext": "THE OLD MARGATE HOY\\nI AM fond of passing my vacations (I believe I have saiil j\\nso before) at one or other of the Universities. Next tn\\nthese my choice would fix me at some woody spot, such as th(\\nneighbourhood of Henley affords in abundance, on the banks,\\n5 of my beloved Thames. But somehow or other my coushi\\ncontrives to wheedle me, once in three or four seasons, to u\\nwatering-place. Old attachments cling to her in spite of\\nexperience. We have been dull at Worthing one summer,\\nduller at Brighton another, dullest at Eastbourne a third,\\n10 and are at this moment doing dreary penance at Hastings\\nand all because we were happy many years ago for a brief\\nweek at Margate. That was our first sea-side experiment, and\\nmany circamstauccs combined to make it the most agreeable\\nholiday of my life. We had neither of us seen the sea, and\\n15 we had never been from home so long together in company.\\nCan I forget thee, thou old Margate Hoy. with thy weather-\\nbeaten, sun-burnt captain, and his rough accommodations\\nill exchanged for the foppery and fresh-water niceness of the\\nmodern steam-packet 1 To the winds and waves thou com-\\n20 mittedst thy goodly freightage, and didst ask no aid of magic\\nfumes, and spells, and boiling caldrons. With the gales\\nof heaven thou wentest swimmingly or, when it was their\\npleasure, stoodest still with sailor-like patience. Thy course\\nwas natural, not forced, as in a hot-bed nor didst thou go\\n25 poisoning the breath of ocean with sidphureous smoke a\\ngreat sea chimera, chimneying and furnacing the deep or\\nliker to that fire-god parching up Scaiiumder.\\nCan I forget thy honest, yet slender crew, with their coy\\nreluctant responses (yet to the suppression of anything like\\n30 contempt) to the raw questions, which we of the great city\\nwould be ever and anon putting to them, as to the uses of\\nthis or that strange naval implement S])ecially can I forget\\nthee, thou happy medium, thou shade of refuge between\\nus and them, conciliating interjireter of their skill to our", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0074.jp2"}, "75": {"fulltext": "THE OLD MARGATE HOY. 67\\nsimplicity, comfortable ambassador between sea and land 35\\n;v^hose sailor-trousers did not more convincingly assure thee\\n;o be an adopted denizen of the former, than thy white cap,\\n.md whiter apron over them, with thy neat-figured practice in\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0;hy culinary vocation, bespoke thee to have been of inland\\njiurture heretofore a master cook of Eastcheap How 40\\njusily didst thou ply thy multifarious occui^ation, cook,\\njnariner, attendant, chamberlain here, there, like another\\n^A.riel, flaming at once about all parts of the deck, yet with\\nkindlier ministrations not to assist the tempest, but, as if\\ntouched with a kindred sense of our infirmities, to soothe the 45\\nIjualms which that untried motion might haply raise in our\\nirude land-fancies. And when the o er- washing billows drove\\n;.is beloAv deck (for it was far gone in October, and we had\\n^tiff and blowing weather), how did thy officious ministerings,\\nstill catering for our comfort, with cards, and cordials, and 50\\nihy more cordial conversation, alleviate the closeness and the\\n[confinement of tliy else (truth to say) not very savoury, nor\\n[vei y inviting, little cabin?\\nWith these additanients to boot, we had on board a fellow-\\npassenger, whose discourse in verity miglit have beguiled a 5\\nlonger voyage than we meditated, and ha\\\\e made mirth and\\n,woniler abound as far as the Azores. He was a dark,\\nSpanish-complex ioned young man, remarkably handsome,\\nwith an officer-like assurance, and an insiippressible volu-\\nbility of assertion. He was, in fact, the gTeatest liar I had GO\\nmet with then, or since. He was none of your hesitating,\\nhalf story-tellers (a most painful description of mortals) who\\ngo on sounding your belief, and only giving you as much as\\nthey see you can swallow at a time\u00e2\u0080\u0094 the nibl^ling pickpockets\\nof your patience but one who committed downright, day- C5\\nlight depredations upon his neigliltour s faith. He did not\\nstand shivering u{)on the brink, but was a hearty, thorough-\\npaced liar, and plunged at once into the depths of your\\ncredulity. I partly believe, he made pretty sure of his com-\\npany. Not many rich, not many wise, or learned, composed at 70\\nthat time the common stowage of a Margate packet. We were,\\nI am afraid, a set of as unseasoned Londoners (let our enemies", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0075.jp2"}, "76": {"fulltext": "G8 lamb s essays.\\ngive it a worse name) as Aldermanbury, or Watling street, af\\ntliat time of day could have supplied. There might be am\\n75 exception or two among u^, but I scorn to make any in\\nvidious distinctions among such a jolly, companionable ship s\\ncompany, as those were whom I sailed with. Something\\ntoo must be conceded to the Genius Loci. Had the confi-\\ndent fellow told us half the legends on land, which he.\\n80 favoured us with on the other element, I flatter myself the\\ngood sense of most of us would have revolted. But we were\\nin a new world, with everything unfamiliar about us, and the\\ntime and place disposed us to the reception of any prodigious\\nmarvel whatsoever. Time has obliterated from my memory\\n85 much of his wild fablings and the rest would appear but\\ndull, as written, and to be road on shore. He had been\\nAide-de-camp (among other rare accidents and fortunes) to a\\n]Vrsian Prince, and at one blow had stricken off the head of\\nthe King of Carimania on horseback. He, of course, married\\n90 the Prince s daughter. I forget what Tinlucky turn in the\\npolitics of that court, combining with the loss of his consort,\\nwas the reason of his t^uitting Persia; but, with the rapidity\\nof a magician, he transported himself, along with his hearers,\\nback to England, where we still found him in the confidence\\n95 of great ladies. There was some story of a princess Elizabeth,\\nif I remember having intrusted to his care an extraordinary\\ncasket of jewels, upon some extraordinary occasion but, as\\nI am not certain of the name or cii cumstance at this distance\\nof time, I must leave it to the Royal daughters of England\\n100 to settle the honour among themselves in private. I cannot\\ncall to mind half his pleasant wonders but I perfectly\\nremember, that in the course of his travels he had seen a\\nphoenix and he obligingly undeceived us of the vulgar error,\\nthat there is l)ut one of that species at a time, assuring us\\n105 that tliey were not uncommon in some parts of Upper Egypt.\\nHitherto he had found the most implicit listeners. His\\ndreaming fancies had transported us beyond the ignorant\\npresent. But when (still hardying more and more in his\\ntriumphs over our simplicity) he went on to afiirm that he had\\n110 actually sailed through the legs of the Colossus at Rhodes,", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0076.jp2"}, "77": {"fulltext": "THE OLD MARGATE HOY. 69\\nit really became necessary to make a stand. And here I\\nmust do justice to the good sense and intrepidity of one of\\nour party, a youtli, that had hitherto been one of his most\\ndeferential auditors, who, from his recent reading, made bold\\nto assure the gentleman that there must be some mistake, as 115\\nI the Colossus in question had been destroyed long since;\\nto whose opinion, delivered with all modesty, our hero was\\n1 obliging enough to concede thus much, that the figure was\\nindeed a little damaged. This was the only opposition he\\nmet with, and it did not at all seem to stagger him, for he 120\\nI proceeded with his fables, which the same youth appeared\\nj to swallow with still more complacency than ever, con-\\nfirmed, as it were, by the extreme candour of that concession,\\nI With these prodigies he wheedled us on till we came in sight\\nof the Eeculvers, which one of our own company (having been 125\\nI the voyage before) immediately recognising, and pointing out\\nto us, Avas considered by us as no ordinary seaman.\\nI All this time sat upon the edge of the deck quite a difi ercnt\\nj character. It was a lad, apparently very poor, very infirm,\\nand very patient. His eye was ever on the sea, with a smile; 130\\nand, if he caught now and then some snatches of these Avild\\nlegends, it was by accident, and they seemed not to concern\\nI him. The waves to him whispered more pleasant stories.\\nHe was as one, being with us, but not of us. He heard the\\nbell of dinner ring without stirring; and when some of us 135\\npulled out our private stores our cold meat and our salads\\nhe produced none, and seemed to want none. Only a\\nsolitary biscuit he had laid in provision for the one or two\\ndays and nights, to which these vessels then were oftentimes\\nobliged to prolong their voyage. Upon a nearer acquaintance 140\\nwith him, which he seemed neither to court nor decline, we\\nlearned that he was going to Margate, with the hope of being\\nadmitted into the Infirmary there for sea-bathing. His\\ndisease was a scrofula, which appeared to have eaten all over\\nhim. He expressed great hopes of a cure and when we 145\\nasked him whether he had any friends where he was going,\\nhe replied he had no friends.\\nThese pleasant, and some mournful passages with the first", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0077.jp2"}, "78": {"fulltext": "70 LAMB*S ESSAYS.\\nsight of the sea, co-operating with youth, and a sense of holi- i\\n150 days, and out-of-door adventure, to me that had been pent up\\nin populous cities for many months before, have left upon\\nmy mind the fragrance as of summer days gone by, bequeath-\\ning nothing but their remembrance for cold and wintry hours\\nto chew upon.\\n155 Will .it be thought a digression (it may spare some un-\\nwelcome comparisons), if I endeavour to account for the\\ndissatisfadlon which I have heard so many persons confess\\nto have felt (as I did myself feel in part on this occasion),\\nat the sight of the sea for the first time I think tlu\\n160 reason usually given referring to the incapacity of actual\\nobjects for satisfying our preconceptions of them scarcely\\ngoes deep enough into the question. Let the same person\\nsee a lion, an elephant, a mountain, for the first time in\\nhis life, and he shall perhaps feel himself a little mortifietl.\\n1G5 The things do not fdl up the space, which the idea of them\\nseemed to take up in his mind. Eut they have still a\\ncorrespondency to his first notion, and in time grow up\\nto it, so as to produce a very similar impression enlarging\\nthemselves (if I may say so) upon familiarity. But the\\n170 sea remains a disappointment.- Is it not, that in the\\nlatter we had expected to behold (absurdly, I grant, but, I\\nam afraid, by the law of imagination, unavoidably) not a\\ndefinite object, as those wild beasts, or that mountain com-\\nl\u00c2\u00bbassal)le by the eye, but ail the sea at once, the commensurate\\n175 ANTAGONIST OP THE EARTH? I do not say we tell ourselves\\nso much, but the craving of the mind is to be satisfied witli\\nnothing less. I will suppose the case of a young person of\\nfifteen (as I then was) knowing nothing of the sea, but from\\ndescription. He comes to it for the first time all that he\\nISO has been reading of it all his life, and that the most enthusi-\\nastic part of life, all he has gathered from narratives of\\nAvaudering seamen, what he has gained from true voyages,\\nand what he cherishes as credulously from romance and\\npoetry, crowding their images, and exacting strange tributes\\n185 from expectation. He thinks of the gi cat deep, and of\\nthose who go down unto it; of its thousand isles, and of", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0078.jp2"}, "79": {"fulltext": "I THE OLD MARGATE IIOY. 71\\nj.lie vast continents it washes of its receiving the mighty\\nPlate, or Orellana, into its bosom, without disturbance, or\\n:iense of augmentation of Biscay swells, and the mariner\\nFor many a day, and many a dreadful night, 190\\nIncessant labouring round the stormy Cape\\n)f fatal rocks, and the still-vexed Bermoothes; of great\\nvhirlpools, and the water-spout of sunken ships, and sumless\\nmeasures swallowed up in the unrestoring depths of fishes\\nmd quaint monsters, to which all that is terrible on earth 195\\nBe but as buggs to frighten babes withal,\\nj Compared with the creatures in the sea s entral\\n)f naked savages, and Juan Fernandez; of pearls, and shells\\n)f coral beds, and of enchanted isles of mermaids grots\\nI do not assert that in sober earnest he expects to bo 200\\nshown all tliese wonders at once, but he is imder the tyranny\\n3f a miglity faculty, wliich haunts him with confused hints\\nI Mid shadows of all these; and when the actual ol\u00c2\u00bbject opens\\n[arst i;i3on him, seen (in tame weather, too, most likely) from\\nl^ur unromantic coasts a speck, a slip of sea-water, as it -JO. i\\n[shows to him what can it prove but a very unsatisfying and\\n3ven diminutive entertainment? Or if he has come to it\\nfrom the mouth of a river, was it much more than the river\\nwidening and, even out of sight of land, Avhat had he but a\\nflat watery horizon about him, nothing comparable to the 210\\nvast o er-curtaining sky, his familiar object, seen daily\\nwithout dread or amazement? Who, in similar circum-\\nstances, has not been tempted to exclaini with Charoba, in\\nthe poem of Gebir\\nIs this the mighty ocean is this all 215\\nI love town, or country but this detestable Cinque Port\\nis neither. I hate these scrubbed shoots, thrusting out their\\nstarved foliage from between the horrid fissures of dusty\\ninnutritious rocks which the amateur calls verdure to the\\nedge of the sea. I require woods, and they show me 220\\nstunted coppices. I cry out for the water-brooks, and pant\\nfor fresh streams, and inland murmurs. I cannot stand all\\nday on the naked beach, watching the capricious hues of the", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0079.jp2"}, "80": {"fulltext": "72 lamb s essays.\\nsea, shifting like the colours of a dying mullet. I am tired\\nof looking out at the windows of this island-prison. I wouL\\n225 fain retire into the interior of my cage. While I gaze upon\\nthe sea, I want to he on it, over it, across it. It hinds me in\\nwith chains, as of iron. My thouglits are ahroad. I shoukL\\nnot so feel in Staffordshire. There is no home for me here.\\nThere is no sense of home at Hastings. It is a place of fugi-\\n230 tive resort, an heterogeneous assemblage of sea-mews and\\nstock-brokers, Amphitrites of the town, and misses thai\\ncoquet with the Ocean. If it were what it was in its primi-\\ntive shape, and what it ought to have remained, a fair, i\\nhonest, fishing-town, and no more, it were something with j\\n235 a few straggling fishermen s huts scattered about, artless as\\nits Clio s, and with their materials filched from them, it were i\\nsomething. I could abide to dwell with Meshech to assort\\nwith fisher-swains, and smugglers. There are, or I dream\\nthere are, many of this latter occupation here. Their faces\\n240 become the place. I like a smuggler. He is the only honest\\nthief. He robs nc tiling but the revenue, an abstraction I\\nnever greatly cared about. I could go out wdth them in\\ntheir mackarel boats, or about their less ostensible business,\\nwith some satisfaction. I can even tolerate those poor victims\\n245 to monotony, who from day to day pace along the beach, in\\nendless progress and recurrence, to watch their illicit country-\\nmen townsfolk or brethren perchance whistling to the\\nsheathing and unsheathing of their cutlasses (their only\\nsolace), who under the mild name of preventive service,\\n250 keep up a legitimated civil warfare in the deplorable absence\\nof a foreign one, to show their detestation of run hollands, and\\nzeal for old England. But it is the visitants from town, that\\ncome here to say that they have been here, with no more\\nrelish of the sea than a pond-perch or a dace might l)e sup-\\n255 posed to have, that are my aversion. I feel like a foolish\\ndace in these regions, and have as little toleration for myself\\nhere, as for them. What can they want here? if they\\nhad a true relish of the ocean, why have they brought all\\nthis land luggage with them 1 or why pitch their civilised\\n260 tents in the desert 1 What mean these scanty book-rooms", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0080.jp2"}, "81": {"fulltext": "j THE OLD MARGATE HOT. 73\\niaarine libraries as they entitle them if the sea weve,\\niS they would have us believe, a book, to read strange\\nuatter in? what are their foolish concert-rooms, if they\\n;ome, as they would fain be thouglit to do, to listen to the\\nnusic of the waves? All is false and hollow pretension. 265\\nThey come, because it is the fasliion, and to spoil the nature\\n)f the place. They are, mostly, as I have said, stock-brokers;\\nDut I liave watched the better sort of thcin now and then,\\nm honest citizen (of the old stamp), in the simplicity of Lis\\nleart, shall bring down his wife and daughters, to taste the 270\\nhea breezes. I always know the date of their arrival. It is\\nbasy to see it in their countenance. A day or two they go\\n^wandering on the shingles, picking up cockle-shells, and\\nthinking them great things but, in a poor week, imagination\\nslackens: they begin to discover that cockles produce no 275\\npearls, and then then if I could interpret for the\\npretty creatures (I know they have not the courage to confess\\nlit themselves), how gladly would they exchange their sea-\\nside rambles for a Sunday-walk on the green-sward of their\\n[accustomed Twickenham meadows! J.so\\nI would ask of one of these sea-chanued emigrants, wIkj\\nthink they truly love the sea, with its Vv ild usages, what\\nwould tlieir feelings be, if some of the unsophisticated\\naborigines of this place, encouraged by their courteous ques-\\ntionings here, should venture, on the faith of such assured 285\\nsympathy between them, to return the visit, and come up to\\nsee London. I must imagine them with their fishing-tackle\\non their back, as we carry our town necessaries. What a\\nsensation would it cause in Lothbury. What vehement\\nlaugliter would it not excite among 290\\nThe daughters of Cheapside, and wives of Lombard-street I\\nI am sure that no town-bred or inland-born subjects can feel\\ntheir true and natural nourishment at these sea-places. Nature,\\nwhere she does not mean us for mariners and vagabonds, bids\\nus stay at home. The salt foam seems to nourish a spleen. 295\\nI am not half so good-natured as by the milder waters of my\\nnatural river. I wovtld exchange these sea-gulls for swans,\\n9,nd scud a swallow for ever about the banks of Thamesis.", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0081.jp2"}, "82": {"fulltext": "THE SUPERANNUATED MAN\\nSera tanien respexit\\nLibertas. ViRGll/.\\nA Clerk I was in London gay.\\nO Keefe.\\nIF peradventure, Reader, it has been tliy lot to waste the\\ngolden years of thy life thy shining youth in the\\nirksome confinement of an office to have thy prison days\\nprolonged through middle age down to decrepitude and\\n5 silver hairs, without hope of release or respite to have\\nlived to forget that there are such things as holidays, or to\\nremember them but as the prerogatives of childhood then,\\nand then only, will you be able to appreciate my deliverance.\\nIt is now six-and-thirty years since I took my seat at the\\n10 desk in Mincing-lane. Melancholy was the transition at\\nfourteen from the al)undant playtime, and the frequently-\\nintervening vacations of school days, to the eight, nine, and\\nsometimes ten hours a-day attendance at the counting-house.\\nBut time partially reconciles us to anything. I gradually\\n15 became content doggedly contented, as wild animals in\\ncages.\\nIt is true I had my Sundays to myself but Sundays,\\nadmirable as the institution of them is for purposes of\\nworship, are for that very reason the very worst adapted for\\n20 days of unbending and recreation. In particular, there is a\\ngloom for me attendant upon a city Sunday, a weiglit in the\\nair. I miss the cheerful cries of London, the music, and the\\nballad-singers the buzz and stirring murmur of the streets.\\nThose eternal bells depress me. The closed shops repel me.\\n25 Prints, pictures, all the glittering and endless succession of\\nknacks and gewgaws, and ostentatiously displayed wares of", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0082.jp2"}, "83": {"fulltext": "THE SUPERANNUATED MAN. 75\\n;radesnien, which make a week-day saunter through the less\\nDusy jiarts of the metropolis so delightful are shut out,\\n^0 book-stalls deliciously to idle over no busy faces to\\n:ecreate the idle man who contemplates them ever passing 30\\noy the very face of business a charm by contrast to his\\ntemporary relaxation from it. Nothing to be seen but lui-\\nliappy countenances or half-happy at best of emancipated\\nprentices and little tradesfolks, with here and there a\\nservant-maid tliat has got leave to go out, who, slaving all 35\\nthe week, with the habit has lost almost the capacity of\\njsnjoying a free hour and livelily expressing the hollowness\\n|0f a day s pleasuring. The very strollers in the fields on\\nthat day look anything but comfortable.\\nIJut besides Suudaj S I had a day at Easter, and a day at 40\\n(Christmas, with a full week in the sunnner to go and air\\nimyself i)i my native fields of Hertfordshire. This last was\\na great indulgence; and the prospect of its recurrence, I\\nbelieve, ah me kept me up through the year, and made my\\ndurance toleraUe. But Avhen the week came round, did the 45\\nglittering phantom of the distance keep touch with me i or\\nrather was it not a series of seven inieasy days, spent in\\nrestless pursuit of pleasure, and a wearisome anxiety to find\\noiit how to make the most of them 1 Where was the quiet,\\nwhere the promised rest? Before I had a taste of it, it was 50\\nvanished. I was at tlie desk again, counting upon the fifty-\\none tedious weeks that must intervene before such another\\nsnatch would come. Still the prospect of its coming threw\\nsomething of an illumination upon the darker side of my\\ncaptivity. Without it, as I have said, I could scarcely have 55\\nsustained my thraldom.\\nIndependently of the rigoui s of attendance, I have ever\\nbeen haunted with a sense (jierhaps a mere caprice) of in-\\ncapacity for business. This, during my latter years, had\\nincreased to such a degree, that it was visible in all the lines 60\\nof my countenance. ]\\\\Iy health and my good spirits flagged.\\nI had p(;rpetually a dread of some crisis, to which I should\\nbe found unequcal. Besides my daylight servitude, I served\\nover again all night in my sleep, and would awake with", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0083.jp2"}, "84": {"fulltext": "76 lamb s essays.\\n65 terrors of imaginary false entries, errors in my accounts, and\\nthe like. I was fifty years of age, and no prospect of\\nemancipation presented itself. I had grown to my desk, as\\nit were and the wood had entered into my soul.\\nMy fellows in the office would sometimes rally me upon\\n70 tlie trouble legible in my countenance but I did not know\\nthat it had raised the suspicions of any of my employers,\\nwhen, on the tifth of last month, a day ever to be remem-\\nbered by me, L the junior partner in the firm, calling\\nme on one side, directly taxed me with my bad looks, and\\n75 frankly inquired the cause of them. So taxed, I honestly\\nmade confession of my infirmity, and added that I was\\nafraid I should eventually be obliged to resign his service.\\nHe spoke some words of course to hearten me, and there\\nthe matter rested. A whole week I remained labouring\\n80 under the impression that I had acted imprudently in my\\ndisclosure that I had foolishly given a handle against\\nmyself, and had been anticipating my own dismissal. A\\nweek passed in this manner, the most anxious one, I verily\\nbelieve, in my Avhole life, when on the evening of the 12th\\n85 of April, just as I was about quitting my desk to go home\\n(it might be al)Out 8 o clock) I received an awful summons\\nto attend the presence of the Avhule asseniUed firm in the\\nformidable back parlour. I thought now my time is surely\\ncome I have done for myself I am going to be told that\\n90 they have no longer occasion for me. L I coidd see,\\nsmiled at the terror I was in, which was a little relief to\\nme when, to my utter astonishment, B the eldest\\npartner, began a formal harangue to me on the length of my\\nservices, my very meritorious conduct during the whole of\\n95 the time (tlie deuce, thought I, how did he find out that?\\nI protest I never had the confidence to think as nnich). He\\nwent on to descant on the expediency of retiring at a certain\\ntime of life (how my heart panted and asking me a few\\nquestions as to the amount of my own property, of which I\\n100 have a little, ended with a proposal, to which his three\\npartners nodded a grave assent, that I should accept from\\nthe house, which I had served so well, a pension for life to", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0084.jp2"}, "85": {"fulltext": "THE SUPERANNUATED MAN. 77\\njjjie amount of two-thirds of my accustomed salary a\\n,f |agnificent offer I do not know what I answered between\\nirprise and gratitude, but it was understood that I accepted 105\\nl leir proposal, and I was told that I was free from that hour\\nI j I leave their service. I stam mered out a bow, and at just\\n!,in minutes after eight I went home for ever. This noble\\niljnefit\u00e2\u0080\u0094 gratitude forbids me to conceal their names I owe\\nthe kindness of the most munificent firm in the world 110\\nlie house of Boldero, Merry weather, Bosanquet, and Lacy.\\nEdo Pcrjjciua 1\\ni For the first day or two I felt stunned, overwhelmed. I\\njould only ai)preliend my felicity; I Avas too confused to\\nI aste it sincerely. I wandered about, thinking I was happy, 115\\nnd knowing that I was not. I was in the condition of a\\nprisoner in the old Bastile, suddenly let loose after a forty\\ni ears confinement, I could scarce trust myself with myself.\\n.t was like passing out of Time into Eternity\u00e2\u0080\u0094for it is a\\n;ort of Eternity for a man to have his Time all to hiinself. 120\\n;t seemed to me that I had more time on my liands than I\\nImild ever manage. Erom a poor man, poor in Time, I was\\niaiddenly lifted up into a vast revenue; I could sec no end\\n|)f my possessions; I -panted some stewaid, ov judicious\\nIjailiff, to manage my estates in Time for me. And here let 125\\ni me caution persons grown old in active business, not lightly,\\n|aor without weighing their own resources, to forego their\\nhustoraary employment all at once, for there may be danger\\nin it. I feel it by myself, but I know that my resources arc\\nsufficient; and now that those first githly raptures have 130\\nsubsided, I have a quiet home-feeling of the blessedness of\\nmy condition. I am in no hiiny. Having all holidays, I\\nam as though I had none. If Time hung heavy upon me,\\nI could walk it away but I do wA walk all day long, as I\\nused to do in those old transient holidays, thirty miles a day, 135\\nto make the most of them. If Time were troublesome, I\\ncould read it away; but I do not read in that violent measure,\\nwith which, having no time my own but candle-light Time,\\nI used to weary out my head and eyesight in by-gone winters.", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0085.jp2"}, "86": {"fulltext": "78 lamb s essays.\\nHO I walk, read, or scribble (as now), just when the fit sc\\nme. I no longer hunt after pleasure I let it come to\\nI am like the man\\n-that s born, and has his years come to him,\\nIn some green desert\\n145 _ Years! you will say; what is this superannua\\nsimpleton calculating upon 2 He has already told us ht\\npast fifty.\\nI have indeed lived nonrinally fifty years, but deduct\\nof them the hours which I have lived to other people, a\\n150 not to myself, and you will find me still a young fell\\nFor that is the only true Time, which a man can propc\\ncall his own, that which he has all to himself; the r.\\nthough in some sense he may be said to live it, is ot!\\npeople s Time, not his. The remnant of my poor days, L-\\n155 or short, is at least multiplied for me threefold. ]\\\\Iy i\\nnext years, if I stretch so far, will be as long as any prec(\\ning thirty. T is a fair rule-of-three sum.\\nAmong the strange fantasies which lieset me at the coi\\nmencement of my freedom, and of which all traces are n\\n160 yet gone, one was, that a vast tract of time had interveuj\\nsince I quitted the Counting-house. I could not conceive\\nit as an affiiir of yesterday. The partners, and the cler\\nwith whom I had for so many years, and for so many hoi\\nin each day of the year, been closely associated\u00e2\u0080\u0094 ])eing si\\n165 denly removed from them they seemed as dead to ii\\nThere is a fine passage which may serve to illustrate tl\\nfancy, in a Tragedy by Sir Robert Howard, speaking of\\nfriend s death.\\nT was but just now he went away i\\n170 I have not since had time to shed a tear\\nAnd yet the distance does the same appear,\\nAs if he liad been a tliousand years from me.\\nTime takes no measure in Eternity.\\nTo dissipate this awkward feeling, I have been fain to g|\\n175 among them once or twice since; to visit my old deskj\\nfellows\u00e2\u0080\u0094 my co-bi-ethr.n of the quill\u00e2\u0080\u0094 that I had left belov,]\\nin the state militant. Not aU the kindness with which thej", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0086.jp2"}, "87": {"fulltext": "THE SUPERANNUATED MAN. 79\\nreceived me could quite restore to me that pleasant familiarity,\\nIwhich I had heretofore enjoyed among them. We cracked\\nsome of our old jokes, but methought they went oif but 180\\nfaintly. My old desk the peg where I hung my hat were\\nappropriated to another. 1 knew it must be, but I could not\\n:take it kindly. D 1 take me, if I did not feel some\\nremorse beast, if I had not at quitting my old compeers,\\nthe faithful partners of my toils for six-and-thirty years, that 185\\nsmoothed for mc Avith their jokes and conundrums the\\nruggedness of my professional road. Had it been so rugged\\nthen, after all 1 or was I a coward simply Well, it is too\\nlate to repent; and I also know that these suggestions are a\\ncommon fallacy of the mind on such occasions. But my 190\\nheart smote me. I had violently broken the bands betwixt\\nus. It was at least not courteous. I shall be some time\\nbefore I get quite reconciled to the separation. Farewell,\\nold cronies, yet not for long, for again and again I will come\\namong ye, if I shall have your leave. Farewell, Ch 195\\ndry, sarcastic, and friendly Do mild, slow to move,\\nand gentlemanly PI officious to do, and to volunteer,\\ngood services and thou, thou dreary pile, fit mansion for\\na Gresham or a Whittington of old, stately house of Mer-\\nchants with thy lal)yrinthine passages, and light-excluding, 200\\npent-up offices, where candles for one-half the year supplied\\nthe place of the sun s light unhealthy contributor to my\\nweal, stern fosterer of my living, farewell In thee remain,\\nand not in the obscure collection of some wandering book-\\nseller, my works There let them rest, as I do from my 205\\nlabours, piled on thy massy shelves, more MSS. in folio than\\never Aquinas left, and f uU as useful My mantle I bequeath\\namong ye.\\nA fortnight has passed since the date of my first com-\\nmunication. At that period I was approaching to tranquillity, 210\\nbut had not reached it. I boasted of a calm indeed, but it\\nwas comparative only. Something of the first flutter was\\nleft an unsettling sense of novelty the dazzle to weak\\neyes of unaccustomed light. I missed my old chains,\\nforsooth, as if they had been some necessary part of my 215", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0087.jp2"}, "88": {"fulltext": "80 lamb s essays.\\napparel, I was a poor Carthusian, from strict cellula:\\ndiscipline suddenly by some revolution returned upon the\\nworld. I am now as if I had never been other than my\\nown master. It is natural to me to go where I please, to\\n220 do wliat I please. I find myself at 1 1 o clock in tlie day in\\nBond-street, and it seems to me that I have been saunterinp\\nthere at that very hour for years past. I digress into Soliu,\\nto explore a bookstall. Methinks I have been thirty years\\na collector. There is nothing strange nor new in it. I find\\n225 myself before a fine picture in the morning. Was it ever\\notherwise? What is become of Fish-street HilH Whei\\\\\\nis Fenchurch-street 1 Stones of old Mincing Lane, which 1\\nhave worn with my daily pilgrimage for six-and-thirty years,\\nto the footsteps of what toil-worn clerk are your everlasting]\\n230 flints now vocal 1 I indent the gayer flags of Pall Mall.\\nIt is Change time, and I am strangely among the Elgin j\\nmarbles. It was no hyperbole when I ventured to compare\\nthe change in my condition to a passing into another world.\\nTime stands still in a manner to me. I have lost all\\n235 distinction of season. I do not know the day of the week\\nor of the month. Each day used to be individually felt\\nby me in its reference to the foreign post days; in its\\ndistance from, or propinquity to, the next Sunday. I had\\nmy Wednesday feelings, my Saturday nights sensations.\\n240 The genius of each day was upon me distinctly during the\\nwhole of it, aSecting my appetite, spirits, etc. The phantom\\nof the next day, with the dreary five to follow, sate as a\\nload upon my poor Sabbath recreations. What charm has\\nwashed that Ethiop white Wliat is gone of Black Monday 1\\n245 All days are the same. Sunday itself that unfortunate\\nfailure of a holiday, as it too often proved, what with my\\nsense of its fugitiveness, and over-care to get the greatest\\nquantity of pleasure out of it is melted down into a week-\\nday. I can spare to go to church now, without grudging\\n250 the huge cantle which it used to seem to cut out of the\\nholiday. I have time for everything. I can visit a sick\\nfriend. I can interrupt the man of much occupation when\\nho is busiest. I can insult over him with an invitation", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0088.jp2"}, "89": {"fulltext": "THE SUPERANNUATED MAN. 81\\ntake a day s pleasure with me to Windsor this fine May-\\naorning. It is Lucretian pleasure to behold the poor 255\\nIxudges, whom I have left behind in the world, carking and\\n;aring like horses in a mill, drudging on in the small\\n.ternal round and what is it all for 1 A man can never\\nlave too much Time to himself, nor too little to do. Had I\\n1 little son, I would christen him Nothing-to-do he should 2( )0\\nio nothing. Man, I verily believe, is out of his element\\nIS long as he is operative. I am altogether for the life\\ncontemplative. Will no kindly earthquake come and\\nswallow up those accursed cotton-mills? Take me that\\nlumber of a desk there, and bowl it down 265\\nAs low as to the fiends.\\nI am no longer ******j clerk to the Firm of, c. I am\\nRetired Leisure. I am to be met with in trim gardens. I am\\nalready come to be known by my vacant face and careless\\ngesture, perambulating at no fixed pace, nor with any settled 270\\npurpose. I walk about not to and from. They tell me a\\ncertain cum dignitate air, that has been buried so long with\\nmy other good parts, has begun to shoot forth in my person.\\nI grow into gentility perceptibly. When I take up a\\nnewspaper, it is to read the state of the opera. Ojms 275\\noperahim est. I have done all that I came into tlus world\\nto do. I have worked task-work, and have the rest of the\\nday to myself.", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0089.jp2"}, "90": {"fulltext": "DREAM-CHILDREN: A REVERIE\\nCHILDEEN love to listen to stories about their elders,!\\nwhen they were children to stretch their imagination\\nto the conception of a traditionary gi eat-uncle or grandame,\\nwhom they never saw. It was in this spirit that my little\\n5 ones crept about me the other evening to hear about their\\ngreat-grandmother Field, who lived in a great house in\\nNorfolk (a hundred times bigger tlian that in which they\\nand papa lived), which had been the scene so at least it\\nwas generally believed in tliat part of the country of the\\n10 tragic incidents which they had lately become familiar Avith\\nfrom the ballad of the Children in the Wood. Certain it is\\nthat the whole story of the children and their cruel uncle\\nwas to be seen fairly carved out in wood upon the chimney-\\npiece of the gTeat hall, the whole story doAvn to the Eobiu\\n15 Redbreasts tdl a foolish rich person pulled it down to set\\nup a marble one of modern invention in its stead, with no\\nstory upon it. Here Alice put out one of her dear mother s\\nlooks, too tender to be called upbraiding. Then I went on\\nto say, how religious and how good their great-grandmother\\n20 Field was, how beloved and respected by everybody, thoiigh\\nshe was not indeed the mistress of this great house, but had\\nonly the charge of it (and yet in some respects she might be\\nsaid to be the mistress of it too) committed to her by the\\nowner, who preferred living in a newer and more fashionable\\n25 mansion which he had purchased somewhere in the adjoining\\ncounty but still she lived in it in a manner as if it had\\nbeen her own, and kept up the dignity of the great house in\\na sort while she lived, which afterwards came to decay, and", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0090.jp2"}, "91": {"fulltext": "DREAM-CHILDREN. 83\\n|(?as nearly pulled down, and all its old ornaments stripped\\nmd carried away to the owner s other house, where they 30\\nyere set up, and looked as awkward as if some one were to\\n;arry away the old tombs they had seen lately at the Abbey,\\nmd stick tliom uj) in Lady C. s tawdry gilt drawing-room.\\nliere John smiled, as much as to say, that would be foolish\\nndeed. And then I told how, when she came to die, her 35\\nuneral was attended by a concourse of all the poor, and\\n;ome of the gentry too, of the neighbourhood for many\\nniles round, to show their respect for her memory, because\\nihe had been such a good and religious woman; so good\\nindeed that she knew all the Psalter by heart, ay, and a 40\\nfreat part of the Testament besides. Here little Alice spread\\nler hands. Then I told what a tall, upright, graceful person\\n)heir great -grandmother Field once was and how in her\\nvouth she was esteemed the best dancer here Alice s little\\niglit foot played an involuntary movement, till, upon my l.O\\nJ coking grave, it desisted the best dancer, I was saying, in\\n.he county, till a cruel disease, called a cancer, came, and\\nijowed her down with pain; but it could never bend her\\nl^ood spirits, or make them stoop, but they were still upright,\\npecause she was so good and religious. Then I told how she 50\\nl.vas used to sleep by herself in a lone chamber of the great\\none house and how she believed that an apparition of two\\nnfants was to be seen at midnight gliding up and down\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0,he great staircase near where she slept, but she said those\\nunocents would do her no harm and how frightened T .55\\nised to be, though in those days I had my maid to sleep\\n.vith me, because I was never half so good or religious as\\nihe and yet I never saw the infants. Hero John expanded\\ndl his eyebrows and tried to look courageous. Then I told\\nlow good she was to all her grandchildren, having us to the 60\\n^jreat house in the holidays, where I in particular used to\\nspend many hours by myself, in gazing upon the old busts\\nDf the twelve Caesars, that had been Emperors of Rome, till\\nthe old marble heads would seem to live again, or I to be\\nturned into marble with them how I never ct)uld be tircil g5\\nwith roaming about that huge mansion, with its vast empty", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0091.jp2"}, "92": {"fulltext": "84 lamb s essays.\\nrooms, witli their \u00e2\u0096\u00a0worn-out hangings, fluttering tapestry, an\\ncarved oaken panels, with the gilding almost rubbed out\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nsometimes in the spacious old-fashioned gardens, which\\niO had almost to myself, unless when now and then a solitary\\ngardening man would cross me and how the nectarines an\\npoaches hung upon the walls, without my ever offering t\\npluck them, because they were forbidden fruit, unless no\\\\\\\\\\nand then, and because I had more pleasure in strolling\\n/T) about among the old melancholy-looking yew-trees, or tli(\\nfirs, and picking up the red berries, and the fir-apples, whicli\\nwere good for nothing but to look at or in lying about\\nupon the fresh grass with all the fine garden smells around\\nme or basking in the orangery, till 1 could almost fancyl\\nSO myself ripening too along with the oranges and the limes in\\nthat grateful warmth or in watching the dace that darted\\nto and fro in the fish-pond, at tlie liottom of the garden,j\\nwith here and there a great sulky pike hanging midway\\ndown the water in silent state, as if it mocked at their!\\n85 impertinent friskings, I had more pleasure in these busy-,\\nidle diversions than in all the sweet flavours of peaches,\\nnectarines, oranges, and such-like common baits of children.\\nHere John slyly deposited back ui)()n the plate a bunch of\\ngrapes, whicli, not unobserved by Alice, he had meditated\\n90 dividing with her, and both seemed willing to relinquish\\nthem for the present as irrelevant. Then, in somewliat a\\nmore heightened tone, I told how, though their great-grand-\\nmother Field loved all her grandchildren, yet in an especial\\nmanner she might be said to love tlieir uncle, John L\\n95 because he was so handsome and spirited a youth, and a\\nking to the rest of us and, instead of mojnng about in\\nsolitary corners, like some of us, he would mount the most\\nmettlesome horse he could get, when but an imp no bigger\\nthan themselves, and make it carry him half over the county\\n100 in a morning, and join the hunters wdien there were any out\\nand yet he loved the old great house and gardens too, but\\nhad too much spirit to be always pent up within their\\nboundaries and how their uncle grew up to man s estate as\\nbrave as he was handsome, to the admiration of everybody,", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0092.jp2"}, "93": {"fulltext": "j DREAM-CHILDREN. 85\\njbnt of their great-grandmother Field most especially and 105\\nlow he used to carry me upon his back when I was a lame-\\nfooted boy for he was a good bit older than me many a\\nmile when I could not walk for pain and how in after\\nlife he became lame-footed too, and I did not always (I fear)\\nmake allowances enough for him when he was impatient, 110\\nand in pain, nor remember sufficiently how considerate lie\\nhad been to me when I was lame-footed and how when he\\ndied, though he had not been dead an hour, it seemed as if\\nhe had died a great while ago, such a distance there is\\ni betwixt life and death; and how I bore his death as I 115\\n{thought pretty well at first, but afterwards it haunted and\\nhaunted me; and though I did not cry or take it to heart as\\nsome do, and as I think he would have done if I had died,\\nyet I missed him all day long, and knew not till then how\\n1 much I had loved him. I missed his kindness, and I missed 120\\nhis crossness, and wished him to be alive again, to be\\nquarrelling with him (for we quarrelled sometimes), rather\\ntlian not have him again, and was as uneasy without him, as\\nhe their poor uncle must have ])oen when the doctor took o(f\\nhis limb. Hero the children fell a crying, and asked if their ]25\\nlittle mourning which they had on was not for uncle John,\\nand they looked up, and prayed me not to go on about their\\n\\\\nicle, ])ut to tell them some stories about their pretty dead\\nmother. Then I told how for seven long yeai s, in hope\\nsometimes, sometimes in despair, yet persisting ever, 1 130\\ncourted the fair Alice W n and, as much as children\\ncould understand, I explained to them what coyness, and\\ndifficulty, and denial, meant in maidens when suddenly,\\nturning to Alice, the soul of the first Alice looked out at her\\neyes with such a reality of rc-presentment, that I became in 135\\ndoubt which of them stood there before me, or whose that\\nbright hair was; and while I stood gazing, both the children\\ngradually grew fainter o my view, receding, and still re-\\nceding, till nothing at L st but two mournful features were\\nseen in the uttermost distance, which, without speech, 140\\nstrangely impressed upon me the effects of speech We\\nare not of Alice, nor of thee, nor are we childreu at all.", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0093.jp2"}, "94": {"fulltext": "86 lamb s essays.\\nThe children of Alice call Bartrum father. We are nothing;\\nless than nothing, and dreams. We are only what might\\n145 have been, and must wait upon the tedious shores of Lethe\\nmillions of ages before we have existence, and a name\\nand immediately awaking, I fonnd myself quietly seated in\\nray bachelor arm-cliair, where I had fallen asleep, with the\\nfaithful Bridget unchanged by my side but John L. (or\\nir 0 James Elia) was gone for ever.", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0094.jp2"}, "95": {"fulltext": "I A CHARACTER OF THE LATE ELIA\\nBY A FRIEND.\\nrlTIS gentleman, who for some months past had been in\\na declining way, hath at length paid his final tribute to\\nMature. He just lived long enough (it was what he wished)\\nD see his papers collected into a volume. The pages of the\\njondon Maijazine will henceforth know him no more. f)\\nExactly at twelve, last night, his queer spirit departed\\nnd the bells of Saint Bride s rang him out with the ohl\\nI ear. The mournful vibrations were caught in the dining-\\noom of his friends T. and H. and the company, asseml:)led\\nhere to Avelcome in another 1st of January, checked their 10\\narousals in mid-earth, and were silent. Janus wept. The\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0entle P r, in a whisper, signified his intention of\\nlevoting an elegy and Allan C, noljly forgetful of his\\nlountrymen s wrongs, vowed a memoir to his manes, full\\nmd friendly, as a Tale of LydiJalcross. 15\\nTo say truth, it is time he were gone. The humour of\\n;he thing, if there was ever much in it, was pretty well\\nexhausted and a two years and a half s existence has been\\nI tolerable duration for a phantom.\\nI am noAV at liberty to confess, that much which I have 20\\naeard objected to my late friend s writings was well founded.\\nCrude they are, I grant you,\u00e2\u0080\u0094 a sort of unlicked, incondite\\nthings, villanously pranked in an affected array of anticpie\\nmodes and phrases. They had not been his if they hud\\nbeen other than such and better it is that a writer should 25\\nbe natural in a self-pleasing quaintness, than to affect a\\naaturalness (so called) that should be strange to him.", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0095.jp2"}, "96": {"fulltext": "88 lamb s essays.\\nEgotistical they have been pronounced by some who did not\\nknow that what he tells us as of himself was often tru(\\n30 only (historically) of another as in his Third Essay, (tc\\nsave many instances,) where, under the first person, (hit\\nfavourite figure,) he shadows forth the forlorn estate of v\\ncountry boy placed at a London school, far from his friendf-\\nand connections, in direct opposition to his o vn earl}\\nSf) liistory. If it be egotism to imply and twine with his own\\nidentity the griefs and atfections of another, making him|\\nself many, or reducing many unto himself, then is thc|\\nskilful novelist, who all along brings in his hero or heroine,j\\ns[)eaking of themselves, the greatest egotist of all who yeti\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a210 has never, therefore, been accused of that narrowness. And\\nliow shall the intenser dramatist escape being faulty, who!\\ndoubtless, under cover of passion uttered by another, often-j\\ntimes gives blameless vent to his most inward feelings, and\\nexpresses his own story modestly\\n45 My late friend was in many respects a singular character.\\nTliose wlio did not like him liated him and some, Avho once\\nliked him, afterwards became his bitterest haters. The truth\\nis, he gave himself too little concern about what he uttered,\\nand in whose presence. He observed neither time nor place,\\n50 and would ever out with what came uppermost. Witli the\\nsevere religionist he would pass for a free-tliinker while the\\notlier faction set him down for a bigot, or persuaded them-\\nselves that he belied his sentiments. Few understood him\\nand I am not certain that at all times he quite understood\\n55 himself. Tie too much aflfected that dangerous figure, irony.\\nHe sowed doubtful si)eeches, and reaped plain, unequivocal\\nhatred. He Avould interrupt the gravest discussion with\\nsome light jest; and yet, perhaps, not quite irrelevant in\\nears that could understand it. Your long and much talkers\\nCO hated liim. The informal habit of his mind, joined to an\\ninveterate impediment of speech, forbade him to be an\\norator and he seemed determined that no one else should\\nplay that part when he was present. He was petit and\\nordinary in liis person and af\u00c2\u00bbpearance. I have seen him\\n65 sometimes in what is called good company, but, where he", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0096.jp2"}, "97": {"fulltext": "A CHARACTER OF THE LATE ELIA. 89\\n|(jhas been a stranger, sit silent, and be suspected for an odd\\nfellow, till (some unlucky occasion provoking it) lie would\\nstutter out some senseless pun, (not altogether senseless\\niperhaps, if rightly taken,) which has stamped his character\\nfor the evening. It was hit or miss with him but, nine 70\\nii times out of ten, he contrived by this device to send away\\na whole company his enemies. His conceptions rose kindlier\\nthan his utterance, and his happiest impromptus had the\\nij appearance of effort. Ho has been accused of trying to be\\ni! witty, when in truth he was but struggling to give his poor 75\\nthoughts articulation. He chose his companions for some\\nindividuality of character which they manifested. Hence\\nnot many persons of science, and few professed literati, were\\nlof his councils. They were, for the most part, persons of\\nan uncertain fortune and as to such people, commonly, SO\\nnothing is more obnoxious than a gentleman of settled\\n(though moderate) income, he passed with most of them for\\n;a great miser. To my knowledge, this was a mistake. His\\nintimados, to confess a truth, were, in the world s eye, a\\nI ragged regiment. He found them floating on the surface of 85\\nI society and the colour, or something else, in the weed,\\npleased him. The burs stuck to him but they were good\\nand loving burs for all that. He never greatly cared for the\\nsociety of what are called good people. If any of these\\nwere scandalised, (and offences were sure to arise,) he could 90\\nnot help it. When he has been remonstrated with for not\\nmaking more concessions to the feelings of good people, he\\nwould retort by asking. What one point did these good\\npeople ever concede to him He was temperate in his meals\\nand diversions, but always kept a little on this side of 95\\nabstemiousness. Only in the use of the Indian weed he\\nmight be thought a little excessive. He took it, he would\\nsay, as a solvent of speech. Marry as the friendly vapour\\nascended, how his prattle would curl up sometimes with it\\nthe ligaments, which tongue-tied him, were loosened, and 100\\nthe stammerer proceeded a statist\\nI do not know whether I ought to bemoan oc rejoice that\\nmy old friend is departed. His jests were beginning to grow", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0097.jp2"}, "98": {"fulltext": "90 lamb s essays.\\nobsolete, and his stories to be found out. He felt th\\n105 approaches of age and, while he pretended to cling to lif\u00c2\u00ab\\nyou saw how slender were the ties left to bind him. Di.\\ncoursing with him latterly on this subject, he expresse\\nhimself with a pettishness which I thought unworthy\\nhim. In our walks about his suburban retreat (as he calle\\n110 it) at Sliacklewell, some children belonging to a School\\nIndustry met us, and bowed and courtesied, as he thought\\nin an especial manner to liim. They take me for a visitirit\\ngovernor, he nuittered earnestly. He had a horror, Avhicl\\nhe carried to a foible, of looking like any thing importaii\\n115 and parochiak He thought that he ai)proached nearer t\\nthat stamp daily. He had a general aversion from bein;.\\ntreated like a grave or respectable character, and kept s^\\nwary eye upon the advauces of age that should so entitle him.\\nHe lierded always, while it was possible, with people\\n120 younger tlian himself. He did not conform to the marcli\\nof time, but was dragged along in the procession. Hisj\\nmanners lagged behind his years. He was too much of thei\\nboy-man. The toga virills never sat gracefully on hm\\nshoulders. The impressions of infancy had burnt intaj\\nV2: liim, and he resented the impertinence of manhood. These\\nwere weaknesses but such as they were, they are a key to\\nexplicate some of his writings.\\nHe left little property l)chind him. Of course, the little\\nthat is left (chiefly in India bonds) devolves upon his cousin\\n130 Ijridget. A few critical dissertations were found in his\\nescritoire, which have been handed over to the editor of this\\nmagazine, in which it is to be hoped they will sliortly\\najipear, retaining his accustomed signature.\\nHe has himself not obscurely hinted that his emjjloy-\\n135 ment lay in a public office. Tlie gentlemen in the export\\ndepartment of the East-India House will forgive me if I\\nacknowledge the readiness with which they assisted me in\\nthe retrieval of his few manuscripts. They pointed out in a\\nmost obliging manner the desk at which he had been planted\\n110 for forty years showed me ponderous tomes of figures,\\nin his own remarkably neat hand, which, more properly", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0098.jp2"}, "99": {"fulltext": "A CUARACTER OF THE LATE ELIA. 91\\n:j than his few printed tracts, might be called his Works.\\njl They seemed affectionate to his memory, and universally\\ncommended his expertness in book-keeping. It seems he\\nwas the inventor of some ledger which should combine the 145\\nprecision and certainty of the Italian double entry (I think\\nthey called it) with tlie brevity and facility of some newer\\nI German system but I am not able to appreciate the worth\\nof the discovery. I have often heard him express a warm\\nj regard for his associates in office, and how fortunate he 150\\n1 considered himself in having his lot thrown in amongst\\nthem. There is more sense, more discourse, more shrewdness,\\nj and even talent, among tliese clerks, (he M^ould say,) than\\nin twice the number of authors by profession that I have\\nconversed with. He would brighten np sometimes upon 155\\nthe old days of the India House, when he consorted\\nwith Woodroffe and Wissett, and Peter Corbet (a descendant\\nj and worthy representative, bating the point of sanctity, of\\nold facetious Bishop Corbet) and Hoole, who translated\\nI Tasso and Bartlemy Brown, whose fathor (God assoil him 160\\nj tlierefore modernized Walton and sly, Avarm-hearted old\\nI Jack Cole, (King Cole they called him in those days,) and\\nj Campe and Fumljelle, and a world of choice spirits, more\\ntlian I can rememljcr to name, who associated in those days\\nwith Jack Burrell (the bon vivant of the South-Sea House) 165\\nand little Eyton, (said to be a facsimile of Pope, he was\\na miniature of a gentleman,) that was cashier under him\\nand Dan Voight of the Custom House, that left the famous\\nlibrary.\\nWell, Elia is gone, for aught I know, to be reunited 170\\nwith them, and these poor traces of his pen are all we\\nhave to show for it. How little survives of the wordiest\\nauthors Of all they said or did in their lifetime, a few\\nglittering words only His Essays found some favourers,\\nas they appeared separately. They shuffled their way in 175\\nthe crowd singly how they will read, now they are brought\\ntogether, is a question for the publishers, who have thus\\nventured to draw out into one piece his weaved-up follies.\\nPmL-EuA.", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0099.jp2"}, "100": {"fulltext": "IMPERFECT SYMPATHIES\\nI am of a constitution so general, that it consorts and sympathiseth\\nwith all things I have no antipatliy, or rather idiosyncrasy in any\\nthing. Those natural repugnancies do not touch me, nor do I heliold\\nwith prejudice the French, Italian, Spaniard, or Dutch. Beligio\\nMedici.\\nTHAT the author of the Religio Medici, mounted upon\\nthe airy stilts of abstraction, conversant about notional\\nand conjectural essences in whose categories of Being the\\npossible took tlie upper hand of the actual should have\\nF overlooked the impertinent individualities of such poor con-\\ncretions as mankind, is not much to be admired. It is ratlier\\nto be wondered at, that in the genus of animals he should\\nhave condescended to distinguish that species at all. For\\nmyself earth-bound and fettered to the scene of my\\njQ activities,\\nStanding on earth, not rapt ahove the sky,\\nI confess that I do feel the differences of mankind, national\\nor individual, to an unliealthy excess. I can look with no\\nindifferent eye upon things or persons. Whatever is, is to\\nin ine a matter of taste or distaste or when once it becomes\\nindifferent, it begins to be disrelishing. I am, in plainer\\nwords, a bundle of prejudices made up of likings and dis-\\nlikings the veriest thrall to sympathies, apathies, antipathies.\\nIn a certain sense, I hope it may be said of me that I am\\n20 a lover of my species. I can feel for all indifferently, but I\\ncannot feel towards all equally. The more purely-English\\nword that expresses sympathy, wiU better explain my mean-\\ning. I can be a friend to a worthy man, who upon another", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0100.jp2"}, "101": {"fulltext": "IMPERFECT SYMPATHIES. 93\\nccount caiinot be my mate or fellow. I cannot KJfe all\\neople alike.* 25\\nI have been trying all my life to like Scotchmen, and am\\nbliged to desist from the experiment in despair. They\\nannot like me and in truth, I never knew one of tliat\\nation who attempted to do it. There is something more\\nlain and ingenuous in tlieir mode of proceeding. We know 30\\nne another at first siglit. There is an order of imperfect\\nitellects (under which mine must be content to rank) which\\n1 its constitution is essentially anti-Caledonian. The owners\\nf the sort of faculties I allude to, have minds rather\\njggestive than compreliensive. Tliey have no pretences to 35\\nmch clearness or precision in tlieir ideas, or in their manner\\ni expressing them. Their intellectual wardrobe (to confess\\nurly) has few whole ])ieces in it. They are content with\\nagnients and scattered pieces of Truth. She presents no\\ndl front to them a feature or side-face at the most. Hints 40\\nad glimpses, germs and crude essays at a system, is tin-\\ntmost they })retend to. Tlicy beat up a little game peradvcn-\\nI would be understood as confining myself to the sulyect of\\nnper/ect syinpathies. To nations or classes of Tnen there can be no direct\\nJtipathy. There may be individuals born and constellated so opposite\\nanother individual nature, that the same sphere cannot hold them,\\nhave met with my moral antipodes, and can believe the story of two\\njrsons meeting (who never saw one another before in their lives) and\\nistantly fighting.\\nWe by proof find there should be\\nTwixt man and man such an antipathy,\\nThat though he can show no just reason why\\nFor any former wrong or injury.\\nCan neither find a blemish in his fame,\\nNor aught in face or feature justly blame,\\nCan challenge or accuse him of no evil,\\net notwithstanding, hates him as a devil.\\nhe lines are from old Heywood s Hierarchie of Angels, and he\\nibjoins a cuiious story in confirmation, of a Spaniard who attempted\\nassassinate a King Ferdinand of Spain, and being put to the rack,\\n.uld give no other reason for the deed but an inveterate antijiathy\\nhich he had taken to the first sight of the King.\\nThe cause which to that act compell d hira\\nWas, he ne er loved him since he first beheld him.", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0101.jp2"}, "102": {"fulltext": "94 lamb s essays.\\nture and leave it to knottier heads, more robust constitutionf\\nto run it down. The light that lights them is not steady an\\n45 polar, but mutable and shifting waxing, and again wanin^i\\nTheir conversation is accordingly. They will throw out\\nrandom word in or out of season, and be content to let i\\npass for what it is worth. They cannot speak always as\\nthey were upon their oath but must be understood, speakin\\n50 or writing, with some abatement. They seldom wait t\\nmature a proposition, but e en bring it to market in the gree\\near. They deliglit to impart their defective discoveries v\\nthey arise, without waiting for their full developmen\\nThey are no systematizers, and would Ijut err more b\\n55 attempting it. Their minds, as I said before, are suggesti\\\\-\\nmerely. The brain of a true Caledonian (if I am not mij\\ntaken) is constituted upon quite a different plan. H\\nMinerva is born in panoply. You are never admitted to s(\\nhis ideas in their growth if, indeed, they do grow, and are n(\\n60 rather put together upon principles of clock-work. You nev*\\ncatch his mind in an undress. He never hints or suggest\\nanything, but unlades his stock of ideas in perfect ordi\\nand completeness. He brings his total wealth into compani\\nand gravely unpacks it. His riches are always aljout hiii\\n65 He never stoops to catch a glittering sometliing in yoi\\npresence to share it with you, before he quite knows whethi\\nit be true touch or not. You cannot cry hnloes to anythiii{\\nthat he finds. He does not find, but bring. You nevd\\nAvitness his first apprehension of a thing. His understanc\\n70 ing is always at its meridian you never see the first dawi\\nthe early streaks. He has no falterings of self-suspicioi\\nSurmises, guesses, misgivings, half-intuitions, semi-conscious\\nnespesj partial illuminations,diin instincts, embryo conceptioni\\nhave no place in his brain or vocabulary. The twilight\\n75 dubiety never falls upon him. Is he orthodox he has n\\ndoubts. Is he an infidel he has none either. Between tit\\naffirnuitive and the negative there is no border-land wit,\\nhim. You cannot liover with liim upon the confines of trutl!\\nor wander in the maze of a probable argument. He alwajj\\nSO keeps the path. You cannot make excursions with him-|", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0102.jp2"}, "103": {"fulltext": "IMPERFECT SYMPATHIES. 95\\nfor he sets you riylit. His taste never fluctuates. His\\nmorality never abates. He cannot compromise, or under-\\nstand middle actions. There can be but a right and a wrong.\\nHis conversation is as a book. His affirmations have the\\nfianctity of an oath. You must speak upon tlie square with 85\\nhim. He stops a metaphor hke a suspected person in an\\nenemy s country. A healtliy book said one of his country-\\nmen to me, wlio had ventured to give tliat appellation to\\nJohn Bunclc, did I catch rightly what you said I have\\nheanl of a man in health, and of a healthy state of body, but 90\\nI do not see how that epithet can be properly applied to a\\nibook. Above all, you must beware of indirect expressions\\nbefore a Caledonian. Clap an extinguisher upon your irony,\\nif you are unhappily blessed with a vein of it. Remember\\nyou are upon your oatli. I have a print of a graceful female 95\\nafter Leonardo da Vinci, which I was showing off to Mr.\\nAfter he had examined it minutely, I ventured to ask him\\nihow he lik(;d my beauty (a foolish name it goes by among\\nmy friends) wlien he very gravely assured me, that he\\nhad consideial)le respect for my character and talents (so 100\\nhe was ])leased to say), but had not given himself much\\nthought about tlie degree of my personal pretensions. The\\nmisconception staggered me, but did not seem much to dis-\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2concert him. Persons of this nation are particularly fond of\\naffirming a truth which nobody doubts. They do not so 105\\nproperly affirm, as annunciate it. They do indeed appear to\\nhave such a love of truth (as if, like virtue, it were valuable\\nfor itself) that all truth becomes equally valuable, whether\\nthe proposition that contains it be new or old, disputed, or\\nsuch as is impossible to become a subject of disputation. I 110\\nwas present, not long since, at a party of North Britons,\\nwhere a son of Burns was expected and happened to drop\\na silly expression (in my South Bjjitish way), that I wished it\\nwere the father instead of the son when four of them started\\nup at once to inform me that that was impossible, because 115\\nhe was dead. An impracticable wish, it seems, was more\\nthan they coiild conceive. Swift has hit otf this p^art of\\ntheir character, namely their love of truth, in his biting way,", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0103.jp2"}, "104": {"fulltext": "96 lamb s essays.\\nbut with an illiberality that necessarily confines the passage\\n120 to the margin.* The tediousness of these people is certainly\\nprovoking. I wonder if they ever tire one another^ In my\\nearly life I had a passionate fondness for the poetry of Burns\\nI have sometimes foolishly hoped to ingratiate myself with\\nhis countrymen by expressing it. But I have always found\\n125 that a true Scot resents your admiration of his compatriot,\\neven more than he would your contempt of him. The latter\\nhe imputes to your imperfect acquaintance with many of\\nthe words which he uses and the same objection makes it\\na presumption in you to suppose tliat you can admire him.\\n130 Thomson they seem to have forgotten. Smollett they have\\nneither forgotten nor forgiven, for his delineation of Bury\\nand his companion, upon their first introduction to our\\nmetropolis. Speak of Smollett as a great genius, and they\\nwill retort upon you Hume s History compared with his\\n135 Continuation of it. What if the historian had continued\\nHumphrey Clinker 1\\nI have, in the absti ict, no disrespect for Jews. They\\nare a piece of stubborn antiquity, compared with which\\nStonehenge is in its nonage. They date beyond the pyra-\\n140 mids. But I should not care to be in habits of familiar\\nintercourse with any of that nation. I confess that I have\\nnot the nerves to enter their synagogues. Old prejudices\\ncling about me. I cannot sliake off the story of Hugh of\\nLincoln. Centuries of injury, contempt, and hate, on the\\n145 one side, of cloaked revenge, dissimulation, and hate, on\\nthe other, between our and their fathers, must and ought, to\\naffect the blood of the children. I cannot believe it can\\nrun clear and kindly yet or that a few fine words, such\\nThere are some people who think they sufficiently acquit them-\\nselves, and entertain their company, with relatinn; facts of no conse-\\nquence, not at all out of the road of such common incidents as happen\\nevery day and this I have observed more frequently among the Scots\\nthan any other nation, who are very careful not to omit the minutest\\ncircumstances of time or place which kind of discourse, if it were not\\na little relieved by the uncouth terms and phrases, as well as accent\\nand gesture peculiar to that country, would be hardly tolerable.\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nEirUa towards an Essay on Conversation.", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0104.jp2"}, "105": {"fulltext": "IMPERFECT SYMPATHIES. 97\\nas candour, liberality, the light of a nineteenth century, can\\nclose up the breaches of so deadly a disunion, A Hebrew is M 0\\nnowhere congenial to me. He is least distasteful on Change\\nfor the mercantile spirit levels all distinctions, as all are\\nbeauties in the dark. I boldly confess that I do not relish\\nthe approximation of Jew and Christian, which has become\\nso fashionable. The recipi ocal endearments have, to me, 15.^)\\nsomething hypocritical and unnatural in them. I do not like\\nto see the Church and Synagogue kissing and congeeing in\\nawkward postures of an affected civility. If they are\\nconverted, why do they not come over to us altogether?\\nWhy keep up a form of separation, M hen the life of it is 160\\nfled 1 n they can sit with us at table, why do they keck at\\nour cookery I do not understand these half-convertites.\\nJews christianizing Christians judaizing puzzle me. I\\nHke fish or flesh. A moderate Jew is a more confounding\\npiece of anomaly than a wet Quaker. The spirit of the 165\\nsynagogue is essentially separative. B would have been\\nmore in keeping if he had abided by the faith of his fore-\\nfathers. There is a fine scorn in his face, which nature\\nmeant to be of Christians. The Hebrew spirit is strong\\nin him, in spite of his proselytism. He cannot conquer the 170\\nShil)boleth. How it breaks out when he sings, The\\nChildren of Israel passed through the Eed Sea! The\\nauditors, for the moment, are as Egyptians to him, and\\nhe rides over our necks in triumph. There is no mistaking\\nhim. B has a strong expression of sense in his counte- 17.5\\nnance, and it is confirmed by his singing. The foundation of\\nhis vocal excellence is sense. He sings with understanding,\\nas Kemble delivered dialogue. He would sing the Command-\\nments, and give an appropriate character to each prohibition.\\nHis nation, in general, have not over-sensible coimtenances. 180\\nHow should they? but you seldom see a silly expression\\namong them. Gain, and the pursuit of gain, sharpen a\\nman s visage. I never heard of an idiot being born among\\nthem. Some admire the Jewish female-physiognomy. I\\nadmire it\u00e2\u0080\u0094 but with trembling. Jael had those full dark 185\\ninscrutable eyes.\\na", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0105.jp2"}, "106": {"fulltext": "98 lamb s essays.\\nIn the Negro countenance you will often meet with strong\\ntraits of l)enignity. I have felt yearnings of tenderness\\ntowards some of these faces or rather masks that have\\n190 looked out kindly upon one in casual encounters in the streets\\nand highways. I love what Fuller beautifully calls these\\nimages of God cut in eb(jny. But I should not like to\\nassociate with them, to share my meals and my good nights\\nwith them because they are black.\\n1 i I love Quaker ways, and Quaker worship. I venerate the\\nQuaker principles. It does me good for the rest of the day\\nwh(m I meet any of their people in my path. When I am\\nruffled or disturbed by any occurrence, the sight, or quiet\\nvoice of a Quaker, acts u})on me as a ventilator, lightening\\n200 the air, and taking off a load from the bosom. But I cannot\\nlike the Quakers (as Uesdemona would say) to live with\\nthem. I am all over sophisticated with humours, fancies,\\ncraving hourly sympathy. I must have books, pictures,\\ntheatres, chit-chat, scanchxl, jokes, ambiguities, and a thousand\\n205 whimwhams, which their simpler taste can do without. I\\nshould starve at their primitive banquet. My appetites are\\ntoo high for the salads which (according to Evelyn) Eve\\ndressed for the angel my gusto too excited\\nTo sit a guest with Daniel at his pulse.\\n210 The indirect answers wliich Quakers are often found to\\nreturn to a question put to tliem may be explained, I think,\\nwithout the vulgar assumption, that they are more given to\\nevasion and equivocating than other people. They naturally\\nlook to their words more carefully, and are more cautious of\\n215 committing themselves. They have a peculiar character to\\nkeep up on this head. They stand in a manner upon their\\nveracity. A Quaker is by law exempted from taking an i\\noath. The custom of resorting to an oath in extreme cases,\\nsanctified as it is by all religious antiquity, is apt (it must be\\n220 confessed) to introduce into the laxer sort of minds the notion\\nof two kinds of truth the one a|3plicable to the solemn\\naffairs of justice, and the other to the common proceedings\\nof daily intercourse. As truth bound upon the conscience by", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0106.jp2"}, "107": {"fulltext": "IMPERFECT SYMPATHIES. 99\\nm oath can be but truth, so in the common affirmations of\\na he shop and the market-place a latitude is expected, and 225\\nE!onced( d, upon questions wanting this solemn covenant.\\nr5omething less than truth satisfies. It is common to hear\\na person say, You do not expect me to speak as if I were\\nipon my oath. Hence a great deal of incorrectness and\\n(Inadvertency, short of falsehood, creeps into ordinary con- 2;J0\\n/rersation and a kind of secondary or laic-truth is tolerated,\\n^vhere clergy-truth oath-truth, by the nature of the circum-\\n(itances, is not required. A Quaker ]s;nows none of this\\njlistinction. His simple affirmation being received, upon\\nI he most sacred (jccasions, without any further test, stamps 235\\nH value upon the words which he is to use ui)on the most\\nindifferent topics of life. He looks to them, naturally, with\\nsnore severity. You can have of him no more than his word.\\ni!:Ie knows, if he is caught tripping in a casual expression, he\\nI orfeits, for himself at least, his clainr to the invidious 240\\ni5xemi)tion. He knows that his syllables are weighed and\\nlow far a consciousness of this particular watchfulness,\\nixerted against a person, has a tendency to produce inilirect\\nmswers, and a diverting of the question by honest means,\\nalight be illustrated, and the practice justified, by a nu)re 245\\nsacred example than is proper to be adduced upon this\\nDccasion. The admirable presence of mind, which is notorious\\nin Quakers ujion all contingencies, might be traced to this\\nim|)i).sed self- watchfulness if it did not seem rather an\\nhiuml)le and secular scion of that old stock of religious 250\\nionstaucy, which never bent or faltered, in tins Primitive\\nFriends, or gave way to tlie winds of persecution, to the\\nviolence of judge or accuser, luider trials and racking\\nexaminations. You will never l)e the wiser, if I sit here\\nanswering your questions till midnight, said one of those 255\\nupriglit Justicers to Penn, who had been putting law-cases\\nwith a puzzling subtlety. Thereafter as the answers may\\nbe, retorted the Quaker. The astonishing composure of this\\npeople is sometimes ludicrously displayed in lighter instances.\\nI was travelling in a stage-coach with three male Quakers, 260\\nbuttoned up in the straitest nonconformity of their sect.", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0107.jp2"}, "108": {"fulltext": "100 lamb s essays.\\nWe stopped to bait at Andover, where a meal, partly ter\\napparatus, partly supper, was set before us. My fiiend\\ncoufined themselves to the tea-table. I in my way tools\\n265 supper. When the landlady brought in the bill, the eldest\\nof my companions discovered that ^he had charged for both\\nmeals. This was resisted. Mine hostess was very clamorou.-\\nand positive. Some mild arguments were used on the part\\nof the Quakers, for which the heated mind of the good lady\\n270 seemed by n.) means a fit recipient. The guard came in with\\nliis usual peremptory notice. The Quakers pulled out their\\nmoney and formally tendered it so much for tea I, m\\\\\\nhumble imitation, tendering mine for the supper which I\\nhad taken. She would not relax in her demand. So they]\\n275 all three quietly put up their silver, as did myself, and\\nmarched out of the room, the eldest and gravest going first,;\\nwith myself closing up the rear, who thought I could not do\\nbetter than follow the example of such grave and warrantalile\\npersonages. We got in. The steps went up. Tlie coach\\n280 drove off. The murmurs of mine hostess, not very indistinctly\\nor ambiguously pronounced, became after a time inaudiljle\\nand now my conscience, which the whimsical scene had\\nfor a while suspended, beginning to give some twitches, I\\nwaited, in the hope that some justification would be offered\\n285 by these serious persons for the seeming injustice of their\\nconduct. To my great surprise, not a syllable was dropped\\non the subject. They sat as mute as at a meeting. At\\nlength the eldest of them broke silence, by inquiring of his\\nnext neighbour, Hast thee heard how indigos go at the\\n290 India House? and the question operated as a soporific oa\\nmy moral feeling as far as Exeter.", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0108.jp2"}, "109": {"fulltext": "NOTES\\nNote. The Letters are quoted by the numbering in Ainger s\\nedition, 2 vols. 1888.\\nr\\n[CHRIST S HOSPITAL FIVE-AND-THIRTY YEARS AGO.\\nI Lamb s Works were published in two small volumes, 1818.\\nYou will smile, he says to Coleridge in the Dedication, to see the\\nt .lender labors of your friend designated by the title of Works. The\\nvolumes contain Poems, a Tragedy, the tale of Rosamund Gray, and\\nvarious Essays, besides the Recollections of Christ s Hospital. The\\npresent Essay, written under the assumed name of Elia, pretends to\\nbe a criticism by another hand of the former work.\\nIn another later paper, called A Character of the late Elia by a\\nFriend, Lamb tells us how the author in this essay Under first\\niiTSOii (his favourite figure) shadows forth the forlorn estate of a country\\nboy placed at a London school, far from his friends and connections\\nin direct opposition to his own early history. (See p. 88.) In fact he\\ntwines his own story with that of his friend S. T. Coleridge, and yet at\\nthe end of the essay speaks of the real Coleridge as another person.\\nColeridge was born at Ottery St. Mary, in Devonshire, but lived for a\\nwhile at Sweet Calne in Wiltshire. The names indicated by initials\\nare known from a key written by Lamb himself, but are only interesting\\nin connexion with Lamb s biography.\\n19 piggin, a small wooden vessel.\\n25 banyan-days. S^moW iX Rodenck Rafidom, xxv. I expressed\\na curiosity to know the meaning of banyan-day. They told me that\\non Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays the ship s company had no\\nallowance of meat, and that these meagre days were called banyan-\\ndays, the reason of which they did not know; but I have since learned\\nthey take their denomination from a set of devotees in some parts of\\nthe East-Indies, who never taste flesh. Banian is an old name for a\\nHindoo.\\n96 L. s governor, The allusion is to Samuel Salt, with whom\\nLamb s (ather lived as clerk. See the Essay on The Old Benchers of\\nthe Inner Temple.\\n130 Caligula s minion. The emperor Caligula made his horse a\\nconsul.\\n155 to feed, c, Virgil, ^neid, i. 464, animum pictura pascit\\ninani.", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0109.jp2"}, "110": {"fulltext": "102 lamb s essays.\\n163 T is said he ate, c. Half quoted from Antony and\\nCleopatra, i. 4.\\n242 watchet is pale blue. Milton, Hist, of Muscovia: The\\nmariners all appeared in watchet, or sky-coloured cloth. So\\nwatchet eyes.\\n268 San Benito, a short linen dress, with demons painted on it,\\nworn by persons condemned by the Spanish Inquisition.\\n293 like a drucer. Shakespeare, Antony a id Cleopatra, iii. II, 37.\\n304 Insolent Greece. Quoted from Ben Jonson s lines on Shakespeare.\\n314 Rousseau and John Locke, though with very different aims,\\nboth taught that education should follow the natural disposition of a\\nchild.\\n337 the Samite, Pythagoras.\\n353 Ululantes, Tartarus. The allusion appears to be to Virgil,\\nAen. vi. 548 foil.\\n356 scrannel pipes. Milton, Lycidas, I, 124.\\n358 Flaccus, quibble about Rex, etc. See Hor. Sat. i, 7, 35\\nTerence, And. 5, 2, 16, Adelp. 3, 3, 74.\\n364 caxon, a wig.\\n378 piecing out, c. Piece out our imperfections with your\\nthoughts. Shakespeare, Henry V. pro). 23.\\n434 Regni novitas, Virg. Aen, i. 563.\\n445 Finding some of Stuart s race\\nUnhappy, pass their Annals by.\\nM. Prior, Carmen Seculare for 1700.\\n453 Mirandola, Pico della Mirandola, Italian philosopher and poet\\n(1463-1494), an ardent student of Plato. Jamblichus and Plotinus,\\nAle-xandrian philosophers of the 3rd and 4th century after Christ, called\\nNeo-Platonists.\\n458 Grey Friars. Christ s Hospital stands upon the site of a\\nconvent of the Grey Friars. The site was given by Henry VIII., and\\nthe school founded by Edward VI.\\n459 wit-combats, the original is from Fuller s Worthies, where Ben\\nJonson is the Spanish galleon, Shakespeare the English man-of-war.\\n485 sizars. See Oxford in the Vacation, I. 80.\\nMY RELATIONS.\\nIn this Essay Lamb draws portraits of his aunt, and his brother,\\nJohn Lamb. He touches upon their foibles, and even upon graver\\nfaults of character, with the tender irony that veils affection.\\n4 Browne. Sir Thomas Browne, author of AW/^/(7iI/\u00c2\u00a3^/\u00c2\u00ab, was one\\nof Lamb s favourite authors. He boasts, in the T wo Races of Men, that\\nhe was the first of moderns to discover the beauties of the Urn Burial,", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0110.jp2"}, "111": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 103\\n29 chapel in Essex Street, a Unitarian chapel. Essex Street runs\\nout of the Strand.\\n48 Charles Lamb had a brother and a sister, John and Mary. These\\nhe here calls his cousins James and Bridget. He also had a sister\\nElizabeth, who died in infancy.\\n60 grand climacteric, every 7th, or 9th, or the 63rd year of a man s\\nlife was supposed to be climacterical, or specially dangerous, but the\\nlast most.\\n64 pen of Yorick. One of the characters in Sterne s Tristram\\nShandy is the parson Yorick, who is also the supposed traveller in the\\nSent! menial Journey. Sterne took the name from the clown-scene in\\nHamlet.\\n71 phlegm, indifference.\\n72 temperament, natural disposition,\\n90 Domenichino. Domenico Zampieri, a Bolognese painter\\n(1581-1641).\\n96 Charles of Sweden, known as Charles the Twelfth.\\n97 upon instinct. See Shakespeare, I Henry IV. ii. 4, 300.\\n118 thus sitting. Par. Lost, ii. 164.\\n138 lungs shall crow. Shakespeare, As You Like It, ii. 7, 30,\\n153 Claude Lorraine was a French, Hobbima a Dutch, landscape\\npainter. Christie s and Phillips s, art auction-rooms.\\n174 his Cynthia of the minute. Pope, Moral Essays, ep. ii. 19:\\nhe choose a firm cloud, before it fall, and in it catch, ere she change,\\nthe Cynthia of this minute.\\n179 Carracci. There were three painters of this name. The\\nmeaning is that as James Elia grew less enchanted with his picture, he\\nassigned it to less and less noted artists,\\n214 all for pity he could die. Compare Shakespeare, Lear, iv. 7,\\n216 Thomas Clarkson, associated with William Wilberforce in the\\nabolition of the slave trade. The phrase, True yoke-fellow with\\nTime, is from Wordsworth s sonnet to Clarkson, written 1S07.\\n226 he thinks of relieving. An echo from Goldsmith s sketch of\\nBurke in the Kelaliation: And thought of convincing while they\\nthought of dining. So in the next sentence there is perhaps an eclio\\nfrom Johnson s line about Shakespeare And panting Time toiled\\nafter him in vain. Elia is full of such,\\nMACKERY END IN HERTFORDSHIRE.\\nI Bridget Elia is Charles Lamb s sister Mary.\\n7 the rash King, jephthah.\\n9 with a difference. Ophelia in Hamlet^ iv. 5, 182 O you\\nmust wear your rue with a difference.", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0111.jp2"}, "112": {"fulltext": "104 lamb s essays.\\nl6 Burton, author of the Anatomy of Melatuholy. The Religio\\nMedici is the work of Sir Thomas Browne. Margaret Duchess of\\nNewcastle lived in the time of the Commonwealth, and wrote, besides\\npoems, a life of her husband a jewel, so Lamb held, for which\\nno casket was rich enough.\\n64 stuflf o the conscience. Othello^ i. 2.\\n123 but thou. Wordsworth, Yarrozv Visited, st. 6.\\n161 scriptural cousins. St. Lvke\\\\. 40.\\n166 B.F.= Barron Field, a barrister, who after this incident went to\\nAustralia as a judge. The Essay, Distant Correspondents, is cast\\nin the form of a letter to him.\\nBLAKESMOOR IN H SHIRE.\\nIn illustration of this visit to Blakesware (the real Blahsmoor) see\\nLetter ccxviii. You have well described your old-fashioned grand\\npaternal hall. Is it not odd that every one s earliest recollections are\\nof some such place? I had my Blakesware (Blakesmoor in the\\nLondon). Nothing fills a child s mind like a large old mansion. And\\nLetter xlv. (to Southey): I have but just got your letter, being returned\\nfrom Herts, where I have passed a few red-letter days with much\\npleasure. I would describe the county to you, as you have done by\\nDevonshire but, alas I am a poor pen at that same. I could tell you\\nof an old house with a tapestry bedroom, the Judgment of Solomon\\ncomposing one panel, and Actseon spying Diana naked the other,\\nI could tell of an old marble hall, with Hogarth s prints, and the\\nRoman Ctesars in marble hung round. I could tell of a wilderness,\\nand of a village church, and where the bones of my honoured grandam\\nlie but there are feelings which refuse to be translated, sulky\\naborigines, which will not be naturalised in another soil. Of this\\nnature are old family faces and scenes of infancy.\\n46 Cowley himself in the Essay Myself describes how as a child\\nhe sat in his mother s parlour and read Spenser.\\n58 Actseon beheld Diana bathing. He was changed to a stag and\\ntorn in pieces by his dogs. In art he is represented with sprouting horns.\\n61 Marsyas so ran the old horrible legend was skinned alive by\\nPhoebus for venturing to rival him in music.\\n92 garden-loving poet, Andrew Marvell. The lines occur in .(4///^/tf\u00c2\u00bb\\nHouse, a description of the seat of the Lord Fairfax, in Yorkshire.\\n114 coatless, without a coat of arms.\\n124 capitulatory, that sum up or recapitulate their achievements.\\n143 Damoetas, iEgon. See Virg. Eel. ii. i.\\n167 Alice, alluded to also in the Essay Dream Children, Lamb s\\nearly love a personality, like Wordsworth s Lucy, living for us only\\nin the shadowy recollections of the author.", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0112.jp2"}, "113": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 105\\nTHE OLD BENCHERS OF THE INNER TEMPLE.\\nA good deal of this essay is true to fact. Lamb s father, here\\nfigured under the name of Lovel, was actually clerk to Samuel Salt, a\\nBencher of the Temple.\\n7 Spenser, the lines are from the Prothalatttium, st. 8.\\n20 goodly pile, called Paper Buildings.\\n27 Twickenham, higher up the river, above the dirtier waters of\\nthe town, where river-nymphs might be imagined dwelling.\\n43 Ah! yet doth beauty. Shakespeare, Sonnets, 104.\\n59 carved it out quaintly. In 3 Henry VL, ii. 5, 24, the King\\nlongs to be a homely swain and carve out dials quaintly, point by\\npoint.\\n62 Marvell. The whole poem will be found in the Golden\\nTreasury of English Lyrics, No. cxi.\\n76 meanwhile the mind, c. The sense is From the lesser\\npleasures of the outward eye the mind retires into the higher pleasures\\nof inward contemplation, imagining more perfect visions than those the\\neye sees counting all the visible world as nothing beside the freshness\\nof original thought.\\n196 Miss Blandy was a lady who was hanged in 1752 for poisoning\\nher father at the instigation of her lover.\\n256 his flapper. Swift, Gulliver s Travels, Voyage to Laputa, ii.\\nThe minds of these people are so taken up with intense speculations\\nthat they can neither speak nor attend to the discourses of others\\nwithout being roused, for which reason those persons who are able to\\nafford it always keep a flapper in their family and the business of\\nthis officer is gently to strike with his bladder the mouth of him who\\nis to speak, and the right ear of him or them to whom the speaker\\naddresseth himself.\\n289 a remnant most forlorn. From one of Lamb s own poems on\\nhis aunt s funeral.\\nOne parent yet is left a wretched thing,\\nA sad survivor of his buried wife,\\nA palsy-smitten, childish, old, old man,\\nA semblance most forlorn of what he was.\\n292 Bayes, the leading character in Buckingham s Rehearsal, a\\nsatire on the tragedies of Dryden and his contemporaries, which has\\nnot yet lost its charm. The character of Bayes was meant mainly for\\na caricature of Dryden himself Dryden took his revenge in the famous\\nlines on Zimri.", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0113.jp2"}, "114": {"fulltext": "106 lamb s essays.\\n381 old men covered. See the Essay on Witches The picture of\\nthe Witch raising up Samuel O that old man covered vk-ith a mantle\\n391 reducing, in the unusual sense of bringing hack so re-\\nductive, I, 431.\\n410 sub-treasurer. Randal Norris was sub-treasurer of the Inner\\nTemple.\\n422 green and vigorous senility. Cruda deo viridisque senectus.\\nVirg. Aen. vi. 304.\\n423 Ye yourselves are old. See Lear s appeal to the heavens\\nagainst his daughters, ii. 7, 194.\\nOXFORD IN THE VACATION.\\nThis Essay was the second written for the London Magazine over the\\nsignature Elia the first describes the clerks of the old South Sea\\nHouse.\\n5 Vivares, Woollet, engravers of the i8th century.\\nII notched and crept scrivener. A cropt scrivener (attorney or\\nmoney-lender) is a phrase of Ben Jonson, alluding to the clo.;e-cut\\nhair of the professional man. Lamb s added epithet notched seems\\nborrowed from his quill or his desk, unless it refers to the notches\\nor tallies by which the old scrivener kept his accounts.\\n14 agnize, acknowledge. Shakespeare, Othello, i. 3,232.\\n43 Andrew. The original line is Andrew and Simon, famous\\nafter known. Paradise Regained, ii. j.\\n46 Baskett, king s printer, possessing patent for printing Bibles,\\nissued editions with prints from 1 7 12 onwards.\\n48 Spagnoletti. Ribera lo Spagnoletto (1588-1656) painted a\\nMartyrdom of St. Bartholomew, now in Madrid.\\n56 far off their coming shone. Adapted from Paradise Lost, vi.\\n768.\\n70 Bodley. Sir Thomas Bodley founded the great library known\\nby his name at Oxford.\\n78 admitted ad eundem, that is, a degree occasionally granted\\nwithout residence.\\n80 sizar, servitor, gentleman commoner. The first two were\\noriginally paid scholars who had certain menial duties to perform the\\nnames still remain, though the duties are abolished. A gentleman\\ncommoner was one who paid higher fees and had special privileges,\\n116 palpable obscure. Paradise Lost, ii. 406.", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0114.jp2"}, "115": {"fulltext": "j NOTES. 107\\n125 dormitory, resting-place, a middle-state between this life and the\\nnext.\\n134 Herculanean raker. A number of charred papyrus rolls were\\nI discovered in a library at Herculaneum. So Wordsworth\\nO ye who patiently explore\\nI The wreck of Herculanean lore,\\nWhat rapture could ye seize\\nSome Theban fragment, or unroll\\nI One precious, tender hearted scroll\\nOf pure Simonides!\\ncredit of the three witnesses. Alluding to the disputed verse,\\nI Joint V. 7 There are three that bear record in heaven, c.\\n136 Porson, the famous Greek scholar and classical editor\\n(1759-1S08).\\nG. D. From Lamb s letters we get many amusing pictures of\\nhis good-natured, short-sighted, pedantic friend George Dyer: God\\nnever put a kinder heart into flesh of man than George Dyer s!\\nO George! George! with a head uniformly wrong and a heart\\nuniformly right George Dyer is the only literary character I am\\nhappily acquainted with. The oftener I see him, the more deeply\\nI admire him. He is goodness itself. If I could but calculate\\nthe precise date of his death, I would write a novel on purpose to\\nmake George the hero. I could hit him off to a hair. Lamb did\\nmake him the hero of an essay, the Amicus Rcdivivus of the last\\nessays.\\n141 tall Scapula. A tall copy is one not cut down in the binding.\\nScapula pirated Stephen s Thesaums Lingua Graecce in 1530.\\n149 a calm and sinless life, occurs in the Dedication to Wordsworth s\\nWhite Doe. Lamb s phrase may be an adaptation of this.\\n188 Queen Lar, a domestic goddess.\\n196 .Sosia, a slave in Plautus Amphitryon, is confounded by his own\\ndouble, the god Mercury in disguise,\\n205 co-sphered with Plato. Milton, II Penseroso:\\nWhere oft I may outwatch the Bear\\nWith thrice-great Hermes, or unsphere\\nThe spirit of Plato.\\n206 Harrington, author of Ocraiia.\\n226 Agur s wish. Proverbs xxx. lo.\\n257 Delectable Mountains. In ^Muysxi 5 Pilgrint s Progress,", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0115.jp2"}, "116": {"fulltext": "108 lamb s essays.\\nTHE OLD MARGATE HOY.\\nA hoy is a one-decked, one-masted, cutter-rigged vessel.\\n26 chimera, put for any fire-breathing monster. The fire-god\\nparching up Scamander was Hephaestus. Iliad, xxi. 342, foil.\\n43 Ariel. Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, I flamed\\namazement. Shakespeare, Tempest, i. 2. 198.\\n107 ignorant present. Macbeth, i. 5, 58.\\nno the Colossus at Rhodes was a gigantic statue of the Sun-God\\nnear the mouth of the harbour. That it straddled across the harbour\\nwas a pure legend. It was destroyed soon after its erection by an\\nearthquake.\\n125 the Reculvers, twin towers belonging to an old monastic\\nchurch, now ruined, on the north coast of Kent, near Heme Bay,\\nsubsequently used as beacon-towers.\\n190 for many a day. Thomson s Seasons, Summer, 1. 1002.\\n192 still-vexed Bermoothes. Shakespeare, Tempest, i. 2, 229.\\n196 be but as buggs. Spenser, Faerie Queen, ii. 12, 25. Tlie original\\nhas fearen for frighten buggs bugbears, terrors; entrair\\ndepths, bowels. The whole passage in Spenser is a collection of\\nquaint sea-monsters. Juan Fernandez is the isl.ind on which lived\\nAlexander Selkirk, the original of Defoe s Robinson Crusoe.\\n214 poem of Gebir, by Lamb s contemporary, W. S. Landor (fifth\\nbook). In his letters (No. xlv.) Lamb expresses himself somewhat\\ncontemptuously: I have seen Gebor Gebor aptly so de-\\nnominated from geborish, quasi gibberisli. But Gebor hath some\\nlucid intervals.\\n222 inland murmurs. An echo from Wordsworth, Lines Written\\nabove Tintern Abbey, 1. 4.\\n237 Meshech. Psalm qxy.. 5.\\n251 run, cant term for contraband.\\n262 a book to read strange matters, quoted from Macbeth, v.\\n291 The daughters of Cheapside, in the original the beauties of\\nthe Cheap. The author is one of Lamb s loved Elizabethans, Thomas\\nRandolph, one of the tribe of Ben or sons of Ben Jonson.\\nTHE SUPERANNUATED MAN.\\nThis Essay appeared in the London Magazine for May, 1825, and\\nLamb had actually received a pension from the directors of the India\\nHouse in the preceding March. For the directors he substitutes an\\nimaginary firm of merchants.", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0116.jp2"}, "117": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 109\\n143 that s born.* From Thomas Middleton, an Elizabethan\\ndramatist (d. 1627). Some of his plays have been published in the\\nMermaid Series. See also Lamb s Specimens.\\n167 Sir Robert Howard* was Dryden s brother-in-law, and\\ncollaborated with him in the Indian Queen (1664). He is one of the\\nimaginary speakers in Dryden s celebrated dialogue On Dramatic Poesy\\n(1667).\\n216 Carthusian. An order of monks originally emanating from the\\nsolitude of La Chartreuse. The name in England was corrrupted into\\nCharterhouse.\\n250 huge cantle, a large slice or corner. See i Hinry IV., iii. i, 100.\\n255 Lucretian pleasure. Alluding to the common quotation from\\nLtccretius, ii. I.: Suave mari magno, c. See Bacon, Essay i.\\nOn Truth, Adv. of Learning, i. 8, 5.\\n266 as low as to the fiends. Hamlet, ii. 2, 519 (of Fortune s\\nwheel) Bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven.\\nAs low as to the fiends.\\n275 opera. The pun (it may be explained for non-classical readers)\\nlies in the second sense of opera, works, plural of opus, work.\\nDREAM-CHILDREN A REVERIE.\\nThis, the most touching of Lamb s personal utterances, was written\\na short while after the death of his brother, John Lamb, the James\\nElia of the Essays. Charles Lamb was then left alone with his\\nsister Mary. His grandmother, Mary Field, had been housekeeper\\nat Blakesware, the Blakesmoor of the Essay already given.\\nBiographers have sought to identify the fair Alice W n, but for\\nus she is simply Lamb s dream-wife, as the second Alice is his dream-\\nchild.\\nA CHARACTER OF THE LATE ELIA.\\nBY A FRIEND.\\nThis Essay appeared in the London Magazine (1823). Part of it was\\nrepublished in 1833 as a Preface to the Last Essays of Elia.\\n9 T. and H. Taylor and Heney, publishers of the London Magazine.\\n11 Janus, the signature of Wainwright, a contributor to the London\\nMagazine.\\n12 P r, Bryan Waller Procter, known as Barry Cornwall,\\nauthor of English Songs (1832), and a Memoir of Charles Lamd {1S66).\\n13 Allan C., Allan Cunningham, a Scotch writer, one of the con-\\ntributors to the London Magazine. He was the author of Lives of\\nBritish Painters, and a Life of Sir David Wilkie; among his songs the\\nbest known is that beginning A wet sheet and a flowing sea.", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0117.jp2"}, "118": {"fulltext": "110 lamb s essays.\\n13 nobly forgetful because Elia, in the Essay Imperfect Sym-\\npathies, declares, I have been trying all my life to like Scotchmen,\\nand am obliged to desist from the experiment in despair.\\n159 facetious Bishop Corbet, Richard Corbet (1582-1635), bishop\\nof Oxford and Norwich, author of FaretveU to the Fairies and other\\nlight miscellany verse. See Chambers Cyclopcedia of English Literature^\\ni. 238, for specimens.\\n159 Hoole. In Letter xx. Lamb says, Fairfax [the Elizabethan\\ntranslator of Tasso] I have been in quest of a long time. Johnson, in\\nhis Life of Waller^ gives a most delicious specimen of him, and adds,\\nin the true manner of that delicate critic, as well as amiable man, It\\nmay be presumed that this old version will not be much read after the\\nelegant translation of my friend Mr. Hoole. I endeavoured I wished\\nto gain some idea of Tasso from this Mr. Hoole, the great boast and\\nornament of the India House, but soon desisted. I found him more\\nvapid than smallest small beer sun-vinegared. Later he writes,\\nBy the way, I have hit upon Fairfax s Godfrey of Bullen for half-a\u00c2\u00ab\\ncrown. Rejoice with me. (Letter xxv.)\\n160 assoil, absolve. Lamb greatly admired Izaak Walton s\\nCompleat Angler. It would sweeten a man s temper at any time to\\nread it. (Letter xii.)\\n178 weaved-up folHes. Must I ravel out my weaved-up folly?\\nShakespeare, Richard II. iv. i, 228.\\nIMPERFECT SYMPATHIES.\\nI Author of the Religio Medici. Sir Thomas Browne (1605-\\n1682) appealed to Lamb by the stateliness of his style, by his large\\ntoleration, his general and indifferent temper, and by the quaint\\nfancies, the beautiful obliquities of his brain. See Essay Mackery\\nEnd, The quoted passage will be found in Religio Medici, part 2\\nsec. i. Below (sec. iv.) Browne reproves another offence unto\\ncharity, of branding whole nations by opprobrious epithets, when\\nby a word we wound a thousand, and at one blow assassin the honour\\nof a nation.\\n3 notional and conjectural essences. For Browne s speculations\\nabout the world of spirits notional essences beings of fancy s\\ncreation) see in particular Religio Medici, part I sec. xxxiii. There-\\nfore, for spirits, I am so far from denying their existence, that I could\\neasily believe, that not only whole countries, but particular persons,\\nhave their tutelary and guardian angels. He discusses their probable\\nnatures, and confesses there is not any creature that hath so near a\\nglimpse of their nature as light in the sun and elements we style it a\\nIjare accident, but where it subsists alone, t is a spiritual substance, and\\nmay be an angel in brief, conceive light invisible, and that is a spirit,", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0118.jp2"}, "119": {"fulltext": "NOTES. Ill\\nThese spirits, he says, are the magisterial and masterpiece of the\\nCreator, the flower, or, as we may say, the best part of nothing\\nactually existing, what we are but in hopes, and probability. These\\nlast words were doubtless in Lamb s thought when he said that in\\nBrowne s categories (classes) of being, the possible took the upper\\nhand of the actual. Browne s mysticism was the fruit of a love of\\nparadox I love to lose myself in a mystery, to pursue my reason to\\nan O altiludo. (Part i sec. ix.) See what he says on Dreams. (Part 2\\nsec. xi.) Another Essay which Browne seemingly inspired by repulsion,\\nis that on New Year s Eve.\\n5 concretions, realities, as opposed to the notional essences.\\nII standing on earth. Standing on earth, not rapt above the\\npole, a line from Milton s invocation of Urania {Paradise Lost, vii. 23)\\nto descend from Heaven to sing the things of earth.\\nHeywood. {Fooinote.) Thomas Hey wood, a prolific Elizabethan\\ndramatist, described by Lamb (in the Specit/iens) as a sort of prose\\nShakespeare, He also wrote various poems (as the one from which\\nLamb quotes) and songs, the best of which is Pack, clouds, away,\\nand welcome day.\\n45 polar. For illustration see Shakespeare, yulms Ceesar, iii. i\\nBut I am constant as the northern star,\\nOf whose true-fix d and resting quality\\nThere is no fellow in the firmament.\\n58 his Minerva. Alluding to the well-known Greek legend of\\nPallas Athena springing fully armed from the head of Zeus.\\n67 true touch. Touch is (i) a stone to try the quality of metals\\n(2) the trial, as Ten thousand men must bide the (ouch (Shakespeare,\\nHenry IV.) (3) the tried metal, proved quality, as here, and My\\nfriends of noble touch. (Shakespeare, Coriolaniis, iv. I.)\\n89 John Buncle. A fictitious autobiography written by Thomas\\nAmory (1691-1788). This was one of the oddities of authorship\\nthat Lamb relished. In the Two Races of Men he tells how, in\\nyonder nook, John Buncle, a widower -volume, with eyes closed,\\nmourns his I avished mate meaning that some borrower had carried\\noff a volume. The actual John Buncle is made to marry seven wives\\none after another, but to hold it wrong to mourn overmuch for the dead,\\n96 Leonardo da Vinci. The print was from the Vierge aux\\nRochers, the Virgin of the I^ocks of Leonardo (1452-1519), of\\nwhich there are two variations, one in tlie National Gallery of London,\\nand one in the Louvre at Paris. Lamb has some lines upon the picture,\\nremarkable as showing how the great Ude of Wordsworth was then\\nringing in his ears.\\n130 Thomson, Smollett, Hume. James Thomson (1700- 17 48),\\nauthor of the Seasons, though born in Scotbid, shows no trace of it in", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0119.jp2"}, "120": {"fulltext": "112 lamb s essays.\\nhis work. Tobias vSmollett (1721-1771, born near Dumbarton) wrote\\nRoderick Random (1748); this Roderick is the Scotch Rory, who,\\nwith his school-fellow and fellow-countryman Strap, is most egregiously\\ngulled by the southerners on their first coming to London, h^imphrey\\nClinker is another novel of Smollett s, told in a series of letters.\\nSmollett did not continue Hume s History, but wrote an independent\\nhistory, a part of which publishers have been accustomed to print as a\\ncontinuation of Hume, who only carried his work to the Revolution.\\n143 Hugh of Lincoln. Matthew Paris tells the tale how the Jews\\nof Lincoln tortured and murdered a little Christian boy named Hugh.\\nThere are several old ballads on the subject. See Percy s Reliques and\\nGolden Treasury Ballad Book, No. xliii., where it is a Jew s daughter\\nwho wiles away the bonny boy, and throws the body into a well,\\nwas fifty fathom deep, where the Lady Helen, his mother, finds it.\\nHugh is mentioned at the end of Chaucer s Prioresses Tale, the legend\\nof a similar murder done on another little child for singing Alma\\nRedetnptoris through the Jewry, or Jew s quarter,\\n166 B John Braham (1774-1856) the most famous singer of\\nhis day, author of several songs, including the widely-popular Death\\nNelson. He used to sing in many of Handel s oratorios.\\n178 Kemble. (1757-1823.) The great actor who carried on the\\nwork of Garrick in interpreting Shakespeare. His sister Sarah became\\nthe celebrated Mrs. Siddons.\\n195 Quaker ways. Side by side with this stands the Essay A\\nQuaker s Meeting. Lamb had strong sympathy with the Quakers,\\nand used to borrow books by Quaker writers from his Quaker friend\\nBernard Barton. In Letter cxcii. he writes to him, Do Friends\\nallow puns verbal equivocations? They are unjustly accused of it,\\nand I did my little best in the Imperfect Sympathies to vindicate\\nthem.\\n201 to live with them. That I did love the Moor to live with\\nhim, c. Othello^ l, iii., 249.\\n209 to sit a guest.\\nSometimes that with Elijah he partook\\nOr as a guest with Daniel at his pulse.\\nMilton, Paradise Regained, iL 277 8.\\n250 scion,* in its proper sense of sucker, sapling.\\n256 *Penn, founder of Pennsylvania, author of No Cross No Crown.\\nIn an early letter to Coleridge (No. xxiii.) Lamb says, I have had\\nthoughts of turning Quaker, and have been reading a most capital\\nbook, good thoughts in good language, William Penn s No Cross No\\nCrown. I like it immensely.", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0120.jp2"}, "121": {"fulltext": "Maynard s German Texts\\nA Series of German School Texts\\nCAREFULLY EDITED BY SCHOLARS FAMILIAR WITH\\nTHE NEEDS OF THE CLASS-ROOM\\nThe distinguishing features of the Series are as follows:\\nThe Texts are chosen only from modern German authors, in\\norder to give the pupil specimens of the language as it is now\\nwritten and spoken. The German prose style of the present\\ndiffers so largely from that of the classical period of German\\nliterature, from which the books in the hands of pupils are gener-\\nally taken, that the want of such texts must have been felt by\\nevery teacher of German.\\nEach volume contains, either in excerpt or extenso, a piece\\nof German prose which, whilst continuous enough to sustain inter-\\nest, will not be too long to be finished in the work of a term or two.\\nThe Series is composed of two progressive courses, the Ele-\\nmentary and the Advanced. Some of the volumes of the Elementary\\nCourse contain, in addition to the notes, a complete alphabetical\\nvocabulary. In the remaining volumes of the Series difhculties of\\nmeaning, to which the ordinary school dictionaries ofler no clew,\\nare dealt with in the notes at the end of each book.\\nIn order not to overburden the vocabularies with verbal forms\\noccurring in the text, a list of the commoner strong verbs is added\\nas an appendix to the volumes of the Elementary Course.\\nThe modern German orthography is used throughout.\\nThe same grammatical terminology is used in all the volumes\\nof the Series.\\nThe volumes are attractively bound in cloth, and the type is\\nlarge and clear.\\nAll the elementary numbers contain a valuable appendix on the\\nstrong and weak verbs.\\nSpecimen copies sent by mail on receipt of the price.\\nNo. I. Ulysses und der Kyklop, from C. F. Beck-\\ner s Erzdhltmgen ans der Alien Welt. An especially\\neasy number. Elementary. 21 pages text, 50 pages\\nvocabulary. Cloth, 25 cents.\\nNo. 2. Fritz auf dam Lande, by Hans Arnold.\\nAn easy number. Elementary. 2g pages text, 28 pages\\nnotes, 28 pages vocabulary, 4 pages appendix. Cloth,\\n25 cents.\\nNo. 3. Bilder aus der Tiirkei, from Grube s Geo-\\ngraphische CharacterbilJer. Elementary. 28 pages text,\\n25 pages notes, 43 pages vocabulary and appendix.\\nCloth, 25 cents.\\nNo. 4. Weihnachten bei Leberecht Hiinchen, by\\nHeinrich Seidel. Elementary. 26 pages text, 36 pages\\nnotes, 34 pages vocabulary and appendix. Cloth, 25\\ncents.", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0121.jp2"}, "122": {"fulltext": "QEBMAN PUBLICATIONS\\nNo. 5- Die Wandelnde Glocke, from Der Lahrer\\nHinkt ude Bote, by Wilhelm Fischer. Elementary. 33\\npages text, 24 pages notes, 38 pages vocabulary and ap-\\npendix. Cloth, 25 cents.\\nNo. 6. Der Besuch im Career, Humoreske, by\\nErnst Eckstein. Elementary. 31 pages text, 23 pages\\nnotes, 30 pages vocabulary and appendix. Cloth, 25\\ncents.\\nNo. 7. Episodes from Andreas Hofer, by Otto\\nHoffman. Elementary. 78 pages text, 18 pages notes.\\nCloth, 25 cents.\\nNo. 8. Die Werke der Barmherzigkeit, by W. H.\\nRiehl. Elementary. 60 pages text, 34 pages notes.\\nCloth, 25 cents.\\nNo. 9. Harold, Trauerspiel in fiinf Akten, by Ernst\\nvon Wildenbruch. Advanced. 4 pages introduction,\\n115 pages text, 18 pages notes. Cloth, 40 cents.\\nNo. 10. Kolberg, Historisches Schauspiel in fiinf\\nAkten, by Paul Heyse. Advanced. 112 pages text, 25\\npages notes. Cloth, 40 cents.\\nNo. II. Robert Blake (ein Seestlick) und Crom-\\nwell, zwei ausgewahlte Aufsatze, by Reinhold Pauli.\\nAdvanced. 2 pages preface, 93 pages text, 53 pages notes.\\nCloth, 40 cents.\\nNo. 12. Das deutsche Ordensland Preussen, by\\nH. von Treitschke. Advanced. With map, 77 pages\\ntext, 62 pages notes. Cloth, 40 cents.\\nNo. 13. Meister Martin Hildebrand, by W. H.\\nRiehl. Advanced. An easy volume. 3 pages intro-\\nduction, 53 pages text, 35 pages notes. Cloth, 40 cents.\\nNo. 14. Die Lehrjahre eines Humanisten, by\\nW. H. Riehl. Advanced. 55 pages text, 47 pages notes.\\nCloth, 40 cents.\\nNo. 15. Aus dem Jahrhundert des Grossen Krie-\\nges, by Gustav Freytag. Advanced. 28 pages introduc-\\ntion, 85 pages text, 41 pages notes. Cloth, 40 cents.\\nGoethe s Italienische Reise. {Selected\\nLetters.) With introduction, 16 pages, map, text, 98\\npages, notes, 48 pages. Edited by H. S. Beresfokd-\\nWebb, Examiner in German {Prelim.) to the University\\nof Glasgow, Cloth, 50 cents,", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0122.jp2"}, "123": {"fulltext": "GERMAN PTTBIjICATIONS\\nThis selection does not profess to cover entirely new ground, as\\nonly a limited portion of the letters is available for educational\\npurposes, the remainder being beyond the reach of ordinary\\nstudents but while a few passages have been omitted which the\\neditor deemed unsuitable or not sufficiently interesting, a large\\nnumber have been added which have not appeared in previous\\nselections.\\nTwo German Readers\\nEasy Readings in German on Familiar\\nSubjects. Consisting of loo Easy German Stories, 89\\npages, with Exercises for re-translation, 31 pages,\\nand English-Gerinan and German-English vocabularies,\\n79 pages. By A. R. Lpxhner, Senior Master of Modern\\nLanguages, Modern School, Bedford, England. Cloth,\\n50 cents.\\nMost of the pieces here have been adapted from English\\nsources, so that tlie probable acquaintance of most young people\\nwith the subjects will render them more interesting, and facilitate\\ntheir translation into English. The language used throughout is\\nof the simplest kind, and the author has endeavored to use only\\nsuch words as occur in daily life. The same words are frequently\\nrepeated with the view of impressing them on the memory.\\nBeginner s German Translation Book.\\nConsisting of German Stories and Anecdotes, 64 pages,\\nwith Exercises for re-translation, 50 pages, notes, 18\\npages, and German-English and English-German vocab-\\nularies, 99 pages. By H. S. Beresford-Webr, Examiner\\nin Gernian {Prelim.) to ike University of Glasgow.\\nCloth, 50 cents.\\nThe object of this book is, first, to provide a Reading Book for\\nbeginners, ^and for this purpose the passages in Part I. (pp. 1-9)\\nhave been adapted and arranged in such a manner as to introduce\\nthe reader gradually to the various forms and constructions of the\\nlanguage, and secondly, to train the learner to utilize his stock\\nof knowledge, acquired in translating from the German, by repro-\\nducing sentences similar to those he has read; in other words, to\\nencourage imitation and adaptation. A learner hears or reads a\\nconstruction or phrase, understands it, but is unable, from want\\nof practice or confidence, to use it himself. Very often this difficulty\\narises from the necessity of changing slightly the construction,\\nand adapting it to what he is desirous of saying. The E.xercises\\nhave therefore been compiled with a view to give constant practice\\nin the development of this faculty, and though, of course, this is not\\nall that is required when learning a language, it will go a long way\\ntowards overcoming the difficulties which present themselves to\\nthe intelligent learner.", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0123.jp2"}, "124": {"fulltext": "GXHtMAX PVBIjICATIONS\\nMaynard, Merrill, 6^ Co. publish also the following\\nstandard German books\\nNeuer Leitfaden. By Edwin F. Bacon, Ph.B.,\\nProfessor of Modern Languages at the Oneonta State\\nNormal School. This book meets a real want by its\\nskillful employment of the natural or conversational\\nmethod without the sacrifice of the grammatical thorough-\\nness essential to a complete knowledge of the language.\\nIt is divided into two parts the first a conversation\\ngrammar arranged in concise single-page lessons, re-\\nmarkably convenient for reference the second a choice,\\ncollection of short stories, dialogues, and songs with\\nmusic, to which is added a complete German-English\\nvocabulary.\\nIt is believed that this book, being free from all the\\nobjections so often urged against the natural method,\\nwill contribute greatly to the popularity and spread of\\nthat method. It teaches the grammar but it is gram-\\nmar by practice, not by rule. The twelve introductory\\nlessons are a rare example of ingenuity in the conver-\\nsational presentation of the elements of the language,\\nand, in the hands of a skillful teacher, are calculated to\\nprepare for rapid and intelligent progress through the\\nadmirable single-page lessons that follow. These lessons\\ncontain a clear outline, the essentials, of the grammar\\nwithout that minuteness of detail which renders so many\\ntext-books in language too bulky for ordinary use or con-\\nvenient reference. Cloth, $1.25.\\nKostyak and Ader s Deutschland und\\ndie DeutSChen. The land where German is spoken\\nand the people who speak it. An excellent German\\nreader. Cloth, 75 cents.\\nNeue Anekdoten Leichte und heitere\\nStUCke. A collection of amusing and instructive anec-\\ndotes which furnish excellent material for reading and\\nconversation. Boards, 40 cents.\\nMaynard, Merrill, Co., Publishers,\\n43, 45, AND 47 East Tenth Street, New York.", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0124.jp2"}, "125": {"fulltext": "Maynard s French Texts\\nA Series of French School Texts\\nThis Series of French Texts is intended principally for begin-\\nners, although it will contain some volumes suitable for students\\nwho have attained some proficiency in reading. Each volume is\\ncarefully edited by an experienced teacher with notes or vocab-\\nulary or both, as the case may be. The typ^. :s large and clear and\\nthe volumes are tastefully bound in cloth.\\nSpecimen copies sent by mail on veceipt of the price\\nNo. I. La Belle au Bois Dormant. Le Chat\\nBotte. Eletnentary. 24 pages text, 29 pages vocabulary.\\nCloth, price 20 cents.\\nNo. 2. Mele-toi de ton Metier, by Mile. L. Bruneau.\\nElementary. 18 pages text, 34 pages vocabulary. Cloth,\\nprice 20 cents.\\nNo. 3. Huit Contes, by Mile. Marie Minssen.\\nElementary. 25 pages text, 36 pages vocabulary. Cloth,\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0price 20 cents.\\nNo. 4. Historiettes. From the English. Elementary.\\n24 pages text, 35 pages vocabulary. Cloth, price 20 cents.\\nNo. 5. Ce qu on voit, by Mile. E. de Pomp6ry.\\nElementary. 23 pages text, 36 pages vocabulary. Cloth,\\nprice 20 cents.\\nNo. 6. Petites Histoires Enfantines, by Mile. E.\\nde Pompery. Elernetttary. 22 pages text, 37 pages vo-\\ncabulary. Cloth, price 20 cents.\\nNo. 7. Petit Livre d Instruction et de Diver-\\ntissement. Elementary. 27 pages text, 37 pages\\nvocabulary. Cloth, price 20 cents.\\nNo. 8. Un Mariage d Amour, by Ludovic Hal6vy.\\nAdvanced. 57 pages text, 5 pages appendix, 8 pages\\nnotes. Cloth, price 25 centi.", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0125.jp2"}, "126": {"fulltext": "FBXNCa PUBLICATIONS\\nMaynard, Merrill, b Co. publish also the following\\nstandard French books\\nLa France. By a. de Rougemont, Professor of\\nFrench at the Adelphi Academy, Brooklyn, N. Y., and\\nin charge of the French course at Chautauqua. An enter-\\ntaining and instructive reading book for French classes.\\nOf special value for stimulating learners to speak.\\nUsed at Harvard College. Cloth, i88 pages, 75 cents.\\nIn seventeen short chapters we are told (in French) all about\\nthe soil, climate, population, industries, social classes, and principal\\ncities of France and in twenty-two chapters more the educational\\nsystem, the language and universities, the literature, the arts, th*\\nsciences, religion, and domestic life of France are discussed. Tke\\nCritic. New York.\\nFrotn YaU College: I shall take every opportunity that may\\npresent itself to recommend its use. Prof. W. D. Whitney.\\nFrom Amherst College: It is almost the a t rt/ book for which\\nI have been looking. Prof. W. L. Montagus.\\nAnecdotes NouvelleS, Lectures faciles et\\namusantes et Recitations. Boards, 30 cents.\\nElwall s English-French and French-\\nEnglish Dictionary. Compact, and beautifully\\nprinted. i8mo, 1300 pages, cloth, $2.00.\\nFRENCH COURSE BY PROF. JEAN\\nGUSTAVE KEETELS\\nI. A Child s Illustrated First Book in French.\\n167 pages, i2mo, 75 cents.\\nThe aim of this book is to teach children to speak\\nFrench as they learn their mother tongue. It contains\\nsufficient matter for a two years course of instruction,\\nand is intended for children from eight or ten years of\\nage to twelve or fourteen years of age.\\nII. An Elementary French Grammar, 350 pages,\\ni2mo. Price 95 cents.\\nThis book is designed for students in high schools and\\nacademies who are beginning the study of French. Its\\npurpose is to train them in the principles of French", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0126.jp2"}, "127": {"fulltext": "FBENCH PJTBLICATIONS\\nGrammar, and to accustom them to speak French by oral\\ninstruction. The rules are stated in clear, correct, and\\nconcise language. The exercises are short, lively, and\\nvaried. It contains matter for a course of one or two\\nyears instruction, and will prepare students to take up\\nafterward the larger works, with the advantage of know-\\ning much of the theoretical part, rendering their task in\\ngoing through the course easier and surer.\\nA Key to the English Exercises in the Elementary\\nFrench Grammar. For Teachers only. 60 cents.\\nIII. An Analytical and Practical French Grammar.\\nI2mo, 554 pages, $1.50.\\nThis work contains a complete system for learning to\\nread, write, and speak the language. The practical part\\nconsists of oral exercises in the form of questions, which\\nthe teacher asks of the pupil, who is to answer them\\ndirectly in French. This method insures fluency of utter-\\nance and correct pronunciation, and exercises the pupil\\nin speaking French from the beginning.\\nThe theoretical part of the work comprises the whole\\ngrammar in fifty-four lessons, accompanied by English\\nexercises to be translated into French. The development\\nof the different elements is in harmony with the logical\\nconstruction of sentences.\\nThree lessons are devoted to Etymology, treating of\\nwords derived from the Latin and common to both\\nFrench and English. This is an interesting part of the\\nwork.\\nSix lessons have been added, giving subjects for com-\\nposition containing some of the principal idioms in the\\nlanguage.\\nThis work is the most complete text-book of French\\npublished in this country.\\nA Key to the English Exercises in the Analytical\\nAND Practical French Grammar. For Teachers only.\\n60 cents.\\nIV. A Collegiate Course in the French Language:\\nComprising a Complete Grammar in Two Parts. 550\\npages, l2mo, attractively bound. Price for introduction.\\nI1.50.", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0127.jp2"}, "128": {"fulltext": "FRENCH FUBZICATIOKS\\nPart First. A Treatise on French Pronunciation\\nRules of Gender; Etymology Exercises for Translation;\\nthe Latin elements common to both French and English.\\nPart Second. Syntax; aCollection of Idioms; Exer-\\ncises for Translation, and Vocabulary.\\nThis work, as its title indicates, is designed for colleges\\nand collegiate institutions.\\nA Key to the English Exercises in the Col-\\nlegiate Course. For Teachers only. 60 cents.\\nV. An Analytical French Reader with English\\nExercises for Translation and Oral Exercises for Practice\\nin Speaking Questions on Grammar, with References to\\nthe Author s several Grammars Notes and Vocabulary.\\nIn Two Parts. Part First Selections of Fables, Anec-\\ndotes, and Short Stories. Part Second Selections\\nfrom the Best Modern Writers. 348 pages, i2mo. Price\\n$1.25.\\nFRENCH PLAYS FOR GIRLS\\nBY VARIOUS AUTHORS\\nEdited by Prof. M. Emile Roche\\n1. Marguerite ou, La robe perdue. Drame moral\\nen un acte, mel6 de couplets. 25 cents.\\n2. Les Ricochets. Comfedie en un acte, imitee de\\nPicard avec couplets. 25 cents.\\n3. Les Demoiselles d Honneur; ou, Le lutin du\\nsoir. Vaudeville en un acte. 25 cents.\\n4. Les Demoiselles de Saint Cyr. Petit drama\\nmoral en un acte. 25 cents.\\n5. Un Reve. Petit drame avec prologue et epilogue.\\n25 cents.\\n6. Un Place a la Cour. Come dic en un acte avec\\ncouplets. 25 cents.\\nMaynard, Merrill, Co., Publishers\\n43. 45. AND 47 East Tenth Street, New York.", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0128.jp2"}, "129": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0129.jp2"}, "130": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0130.jp2"}, "131": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0131.jp2"}, "132": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0132.jp2"}, "133": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0133.jp2"}, "134": {"fulltext": "English Classic Series-continued.\\n158-159 Lamb s Essays. (Selec-\\ntions.)\\n160-161 Burke s Reflections on\\nthe French Kevolution.\\n16/8-163 Macaulay s History of\\nKng:land, Chapter!. Complete.\\n164-165-166 Frescott s Conquest\\nof Mexico. (Condeused.)\\nNew numbers will be added from\\ntime to time.\\nSingle numbers, 32 to 96 paffe.s;\\ntnailinff price, I J cents per copy.\\nDouble numbers, 7G to IJiS\\npages; mailing price, 24 cents\\nper copy.\\nSPECIAL NUMBERS.\\nMilton s Paradise Lost. Book\\nWith portrait and biographical sket\\nof Mihoii, and full inlroductoiy ai\\nexplanatory notes. Bound in Board\\nMniling price, 30 cents.\\nMilton s paradise Lost. ISooks\\nand II. With portrait and bi\\ngraphical sketch of Jlilton, and ti\\nintroductory and explatiatoiy nott\\nBoards. Mailing price. 40 ceiiis.\\nSliakespeare Reader. Extracts fro\\ntlie Plays of Shakespeare, with histo\\ncal and explanatory notes. By C.\\nWykes. 100 pp., IGmo, cloth. Maili\\nprice, 35 cents.\\nChaucer s Tlie Canterbury Talc\\nThe Prologue. With i)oitrait ai\\nbiographical sketch of tlie auth(\\nintroductory and explanatory nott\\nbrief history of English language\\ntime of Chaucer, and glossaiy. Boui\\nin boards. Mailing price. 3S cents\\nChaucer s Tlie Sqiiieres Tale. Wi\\nportrait and biographical sketch i\\nauthor, glossary, and full explanatoi\\nnotes. Boards. Mail im/ price, 33 ceni\\nChaucer s The Kiiightes Tal\\nWith portrait and biographical sketi\\nof author, glossary, and full expla\\natory notes. Boards. Mailing pric\\n40 cents.\\nGoldsmith s She Stoops to Coi\\nquer. With biographical sketch\\nauthor, and full explanatory note\\nBoards. Mniling prici 30 cents.\\nHomer s Iliait. Books I. and T\\nJletrical translation by George Hoa\\nLAND. With introduction and note\\nMniling price, 25 cents.\\nHomer s Odyssey. Books I., V\\nIX., and X. Metrical translation b\\nGeorge Howl and. With introductic\\nand notes. Mailing price, 25 cents\\nHorace s The Art of Poetry. Tran\\nlated in verse by George Howlani\\nMniling price, 25 cents.\\nDefoe s Robin.son Crusoe. Edite\\nby Peter Parley, with introductio\\nand notes. 169 pp. 16mo. Linei\\nMniling price, 30 cents.\\nThe Story of the German Iliad\\nwith Related Stories. With a fu\\nglossary and review of the Influenc\\nof the Nibelungen Lied through Rich\\nard Wagner. By Mary E. Bckt\\nIllustrated. 128 pages, l8mo, cloth\\nMailing price, 60 cents.\\nSpecial Prices to Teachers.\\nFull Descriptive Catalogue sent on application.", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0134.jp2"}, "135": {"fulltext": "English Classic Series.\\nKELLOGG S EDITIONS.\\nShakespeare s Plays.\\nJEacF3 UMas in \u00c2\u00a9ne IDolumc.\\nText Carefully Expurgated for Use in Mixed Classes.\\nUl Portrait, Notes, Introduction to Shakespeare s Grammar, Exam-\\nination Papers and Plan of Study.\\n(selected.)\\nBy BRAINERD KELLOGG, LL.D.,\\nofrxxor of the English Language and Litemture in the Brooklyn Polytechnic\\nInaiitute, author of a Text-Book on Rhetoric, a Text-Book on English\\nLiterature, and one of the authors of Reed KMogg s\\nLessons in English.\\nThe notes of English Editors have been freely used; but they\\nve been rigorously pruned, or generously added to, wherever it\\ni.s thought they might better meet the needs of American School\\nd College Students.\\nWe are confident that teachers who examine these editions will\\nmounce them better adapted to the wants of the class-room than\\nothers published. These are the only American Editions of\\nse Plays that have been carefully expurgated for use in mixed\\nses.\\nPrinted from large type, attractively bound in cloth, and sold at\\nirly one half the price of other School Editions of Shakespeare.\\nTlie following Plays, each in one volume, are noiv ready\\nrchant of Venice,\\nus Cfiesar.\\ncbeth.\\nlipest.\\nmiet.\\nig John.\\nch Ado about Nothing.\\ng: Henry V.\\nft Lear,\\n[ello.\\nMailing price, 30 cents per copy. Special price to Teachers,\\nKing Henry IV., Part I.\\nKing Henry VIII.\\nCoriolanus.\\nAs You Like It.\\nKing Richard III.\\nA Midsummer=Night s Dream.\\nA Winter s Tale.\\nTwelfth Night.\\nRomeo and Juliet.", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0135.jp2"}, "136": {"fulltext": "I", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0136.jp2"}, "137": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0137.jp2"}, "138": {"fulltext": "OQ^\\n,A\\nJ vOo^\\nh\\nr^. A^\\n^0 O^\\nv-^-\\naV -p.\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2J-\\nA^\\no 0^\\n.s -r.", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0138.jp2"}, "139": {"fulltext": "oo\\no\\\\V\\ns^^", "height": "2487", "width": "1523", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0139.jp2"}, "140": {"fulltext": "LIBRARY OF CONGRESS\\n014 494 875", "height": "2492", "width": "1513", "jp2-path": "essays00lamb_0140.jp2"}}