I just open'd it to say the pig, upon proof, hath turned out as good as I predicted. My fauces yet retain the sweet porcine odour. I find you have received the Cobbett. I think your paper complete. Mrs Reynolds, who is a sage woman, approves of the pig. Mr Hazlitt, Winterslow, near Salisbury, Wilts. CLIV. TO HENRY CRABB ROBINSON 1810. Dear R.,-My brother, whom you have met at my rooms (a plump, good-looking man of seven-and-forty) has written a book about humanity, which I transmit to you herewith. Wilson, the publisher, has put it into his head that you can get it reviewed for him. I daresay it is not in the scope of your Review; but if you could put it in any likely train, he would rejoice. For alas! our boasted humanity partakes of vanity. As it is, he teazes me to death with choosing to suppose that I could get it into all the Reviews at a moment's notice. I!! who have been set up as a mark for them to throw at, and would willingly consign them all to Megara's snaky locks. But here's the book, and don't show it to Mrs Collier; for I remember she makes excellent eel soup, and the leading points of the book are directed against that very process. Yours truly, truly? LAMB. CLV. TO WILLIAM HAZLITT 2nd Oct. 1811. Dear Hazlitt,-I cannot help accompanying my sister's congratulations to Sarah with some of my own to you on this happy occasion of a man child being born. Delighted fancy already sees him some future rich alderman or opulent merchant, painting perhaps a little in his leisure hours, for amusement, like the late H. Bunbury, Esq. Pray, are the Winterslow estates entailed? I am afraid lest the young dog when he grows up should cut down the woods, and leave no groves for widows to take their lonesome solace in. The Wem estate of course can only devolve on him in case of your brother's leaving no male issue. Well, my blessing and heaven's be upon him, and make him like his father, with something a better temper, and a smoother head of hair; and then all the men and women must love him. Martin and the card-boys join in congratulations. Love to Sarah. Sorry we are not within candleshot. C. LAMB. If the widow be assistant on this notable occasion, give our due respects and kind remembrances to her. Mr Hazlitt, Winterslow, near Sarum, Wilts. CLVI. TO J. P. COLLIER [1812 or 1813.] Dear Sir, Mrs Collier has been kind enough to say that you would endeavour to procure a reporter's situation for W. Hazlitt. I went to consult him upon it last night, and he acceded very eagerly to the proposal, and requests me to say how very much obliged he feels to your kindness, and how glad he should be for its success. He is, indeed, at his wits' end for a livelihood; and, I should think, especially qualified for such an employment, from his singular facility in retaining all conversations at which he has been ever present. I think you may recommend him with con fidence: I am sure I shall myself be obliged to you for your exertions, having a great regard for him. (Sunday morning.) CLVII. Yours truly, C. LAMB. TO WILLIAM GODWIN "Bis dat qui dat cito." I hate the pedantry of expressing that in another language which we have sufficient terms for in our own. So in plain English I very much wish you to give your vote to-morrow at Clerkenwell, instead of Saturday. It would clear up the brows of my favourite candidate, and stagger the hands of the opposite party. It commences at nine. How easy, as you come from Kensington (à propos, how is your excellent family ?) to turn down Bloomsbury, through Leather Lane (avoiding Lay Stall St. for the disagreeableness of the name). Why, it brings you in four minutes and a half to the spot renowned on northern milestones, "where Hicks' Hall formerly stood." There will be good cheer ready for every independent freeholder; where you see a green flag hang out go boldly in, call for ham, or beef, or what you please, and a mug of Meux's Best. How much more gentlemen like to come in the front of the battle, openly avowing one's sentiments, than to lag in on the last day, when the adversary is dejected, spiritless, laid low. Have the first cut at them. By Saturday you'll cut into the mutton. I'd go cheerfully myself, but I am no freeholder (Fuimus Troes, fuit Ilium), but I sold it for £50. If they'd accept a copy-holder, we clerks are naturally copy-holders. By the way, get Mrs Hume, or that agreeable Amelia or Caroline, to stick a bit of green in your hat. Nothing daunts the adversary more than to wear the colours of your party. Stick it in cockade |