The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb

Print

Word

PDF

an apple scoop, a banker’s guinea shovel. At length its true scope appeared, its drift— to save the backbone of my sister stooping to scuttles. A philanthropic intent, borrowed no doubt from some of the Colliers. You save people’s backs one way, and break ’em again by loads of obligation. The spectacles are delicate and Vulcanian. No lighter texture than their steel did the cuckoldy blacksmith frame to catch Mrs. Vulcan and the Captain in. For ungalled forehead, as for back unbursten, you have Mary’s thanks. Marry, for my own peculium of obligation, ’twas supererogatory. A second part of Pamela was enough in conscience. Two Pamelas in a house is too much without two Mr. B.’s to reward ’em.

Mary, who is handselling her new aerial perspectives upon a pair of old worsted stockings trod out in Cheshunt lanes, sends love. I, great good liking. Bid us a personal farewell before you see the Vatican.

Chas. Lamb, Enfield.

[Crabb Robinson, just starting for Rome, had sent Lamb a copy of Pamela under the impression that he had borrowed one.

“Two Mr. B.’s.” In Richardson’s novel Pamela marries the young Squire B. and reforms him.]

LETTER 479

CHARLES LAMB TO SAMUEL ROGERS

Chase, Enfield: 22nd Mar., 1829.

My dear Sir,—I have but lately learned, by letter from Mr. Moxon, the death of your brother. For the little I had seen of him, I greatly respected him. I do not even know how recent your loss may have been, and hope that I do not unseasonably present you with a few lines suggested to me this morning by the thought of him. I beg to be most kindly remembered to your remaining brother, and to Miss Rogers.

Your’s truly, CHARLES LAMB.

        Rogers, of all the men that I have known
        But slightly, who have died, your brother’s loss
        Touched me most sensibly. There came across
        My mind an image of the cordial tone
        Of your fraternal meetings, where a guest
        I more than once have sate; and grieve to think,
        That of that threefold cord one precious link
        By Death’s rude hand is sever’d from the rest.
        Of our old gentry he appear’d a stem;
        A magistrate who, while the evil-doer
        He kept in terror, could respect the poor,
        And not for every trifle harass them—
        As some, divine and laic, too oft do.
        This man’s a private loss and public too.

[Daniel Rogers, the banker’s elder brother, had just died.]