Mr. Charles Lamb. To the Editor. DEAR SIR, It is not unknown to you, that about sixteen years since I published "Specimens of English Dramatic Poets, who lived about the Time of Shakspeare." For the scarcer Plays I had recourse to the Collection bequeathed to the British Museum by Mr. Garrick. But my time was but short, and my subsequent leisure has discovered in it a treasure rich and exhaustless beyond what I then imagined. In it is to be found almost every production in the shape of a Play that has appeared in print, from the time of the old Mysteries and Moralities to the days of Crown and D'Urfey. Imagine the luxury to one like me, who, above every other form of Poetry, have ever preferred the Dramatic, of sitting in the princely apartments, for such they are, of poor condemned Montagu House, which I predict will not speedily be followed by a handsomer, and culling at will the flower of some thousand Dramas. It is like having the range of a Nobleman's Library, with the Librarian to your friend. Nothing can exceed the courteousness and attentions of the Gentleman who has the chief direction of the Reading Rooms here; and you have scarce to ask for a volume, before it is laid before you. If the occasional Extracts, which I have been tempted to bring away, may find an appropriate place in your Table Book, some of them are weekly at your service. By those who remember the "Specimens," these must be considered as mere after-gleanings, supplementary to that work, only comprising a longer period. You must be content with sometimes a scene, sometimes a song; a speech, or passage, or a poetical image, as they happen to strike me. I read without order of time; I am a poor hand at dates ; and for any biography of the Dramatists, I must refer to writers who are more skilful in such matters. My business is with their poetry only. Your well-wisher, John, not being able to bring Matilda, the chaste daughter of the old Baron Fitzwater, to compliance with his wishes, causes her to be poisoned in a nunnery. SCENE. John. The Barons: they being John. Hubert, interpret this apparition. A sad-writ Tragedy, so feelingly Contrived, and acted; that wild savages Their wildness mildness to this deed, and call Men more than savage, themselves rational. Barons. Matilda! Fitzwater. By the lab`ring soul of a much-injured man, It is my child Matilda! Bruce. Sweet niece! John. Do I stir, Chester? Good Oxford, do I move? stand I not still To watch when the griev'd friends of wrong'd Matilda These shed but sailing heat-drops, misling showers, Hubert. Unmatch'd Matilda ; Fitzwater. Not to be a Queen, Would she break her chaste vow. reed; Truth crowns your Unmatch'd Matilda was her name indeed. Fitzwater: son of water. A striking instance of the compatibility of the serious pun with the expression of the profoundest sorrows. Grief, as well as joy, finds ease in thus playing with a word. Old John of Gaunt in Shakspeare thus descants on his name: "Gaunt, and gaunt indeed;" to a long string of conceits, which no one has ever yet felt as ridiculous. The poet Wither thus, in a mournful review of the declining estate of his family, says with deepest nature: The very name of Wither shows decay. Pathetic epithets to illustrate passion, And steal true tears so sweetly from all these, [Peruses the Motto and Emblems on the hearse.] "To Piety and Purity"-and "Lillies mix'd with Roses" How well you have apparell'd woe! this Pendant, Insinuates a chaste soul in a clean body, To make our griefs ingenious. Let all be dumb, Chester. His very soul speaks sorrow. John. Hail Maid and Martyr! lo on thy breast, I offer (as my guilt imposes) Thy merit's laurel, Lillies and Roses; Lillies, intimating plain Thy immaculate life, stuck with no stain; How sweet red sacrifices smell. Hang round then, as you walk about this hearse, John. Arabian spices, quick'ning by their scent; Fitzwater. Numidian marble, to preserve her praise; John. Corinthian ivory, her shape to praise : Fitzwater. And write in gold upon it, In this breast Virtue sate mistress, Passion but a guest. John. Virtue is sweet; and, since griefs bitter be, Strew her with roses, and give rue to me. Bruce. My noble brother, I've lost a wife and son ;❤ You a sweet daughter. Look on the king's penitence; His promise for the public peace. Prefer A public benefit. When it shall please, Let Heaven question him. Let us secure And quit the land of Lewis. Fitzwater. Do any thing; Do all things that are honorable; and the Great King John. Back unto Dunmow Abbey. There we'll pay Song. Matilda, now go take thy bed Rest there, chaste soul, fix'd in thy proper sphere, This scene has much passion and poetry in it, if I mistake not. The last words of Fitzwater are an instance of noble temperament; but to understand him, the character throughout of this mad, merry, feeling, insensible-seeming lord, should be read. That the venomous John could have even counterfeited repentance so well, is out of nature; but supposing the possibility, nothing is truer than the way in which it is managed. These old playwrights invested their bad characters with notions of good, which could by no possibility have coexisted with their actions. Without a soul of goodness in himself, how could Shakspeare's Richard the Third have lit upon those sweet phrases and inducements by which he attempts to win over the dowager queen to let him wed her daughter. It is not Nature's nature, but Imagination's substituted nature, which does almost as well in a fiction. (To be continued.) Literature. GLANCES AT NEW BOOKS ON MY TABLE. "CONSTABLE'S MISCELLANY of original and selected Publications" is proposed to consist of various works on important and popular subjects, with the view of supplying certain chasms in the existing stock of useful knowledge; and each author or subject is to be kept separate, so as to enable purchasers to acquire all the numbers, or volumes, of each book, distinct from the others. The undertaking commenced in the first week of the new year, 1827, with the first number of Captain Basil Hall's voyage to Loo-Choo, and the complete volume o that work was published at the same time. "EARLY METRICAL TALES, including the History of Sir Egeir, Sir Gryme, and Sir Gray-Steill." Edinb. 1826. sm. 8vo. 9s. (175 copies printed.) The most remarkable poem in this elegant volume is the rare Scottish romance, named in the title-page, which, according to its present editor, "would seem, along with the poems of sir David Lindsay, and the histories of Robert the Bruce, and of sir William Wallace, to have formed the standard productions of the vernacular literature of the country." In proof of this he adduces several authorities; " and yet it is remarkable enough, that every ancient copy should have hitherto eluded the most active and unremitting research." The earliest printed edition is presumed to have issued from the press of Thomas Bassandyne, "the first printer of the sacred Scriptures in Scotland." An inventory of his goods, dated 18th October, 1577, contains an item of three hundred Gray Steillis," valued at the "pece vid. summa £vII. x. o." Its editor would willingly give the sum-total of these three hundred copies for "one of the said GraySteillis, were he so fortunate as to meet with it." He instances subsequent editions, but the only copy he could discover was printed at Aberdeen in 1711, by James Nicol, printer to the town and university; and respecting this, which, though of so recent date, is at present unique, "the editor's best acknowledgments are due to his friend, Mr. Douce, for the kind manner in which he favoured him with the loan of the volume, for the purpose of republication." On the 17th of April, 1497, when James IV. was at Stirling: there is an entry in the treasurer's accounts," Item, that samyn day to twa Sachelaris that sang Gray Steil to the King, Ixs." In MS. collections made at Aberdeen in 1627, called a "Booke for the Lute," by Robert Gordon, is the air of "Gray-Steel ;" and a satirical poem in Scottish rhyme on the marquis of Argyle, printed in 1686, is "appointed to be sung according to the tune of old Gray Steel." These evidences that the poem was sung, manifest its popularity. There are conjectures as to who the person denominated Sir Gray Steel really was, but the point is undetermined. In this volume there are thirteen poems. 1. Sir Gray-Steill above spoken of. 2. The Tales of the Priests of Peblis, wherein the three priests of Peebles, having met to. regale on St. Bride's day, agree, each in turn, to relate a story. 3. Ane Godlie Dreame, by lady Culross. 4. History of a Lord and his three Sons, much resembling the story of Fortunatus. 5. The Ring of the Roy Robert, the printed copies of which have been modernized and corrupted. 6. King Estmere, an old romantic tale. 7. The Battle of Harlaw, considered by its present editor "as the original of rather a numerous class of Scotish historical ballads." 8. Lichtoun's Dreme, printed for the first time from the Bannatyne MS. 1568. 9. The Murning Maiden, a poem "written in the Augustan age of Scotish poetry." 10. The Epistill of the Hermeit of Alareit, a satire on the Grey Friers, by Alexander earl of Glencairn. 11. Roswall and Lillian, a 66 pleasant history," (chanted even of late in Edinburgh,) from the earliest edition discovered, printed in 1663, of which the only copy known is in the Advocates' Library, from the Roxburghe sale. 12. Poem by Glassinberry, a name for the first time introduced into the list of early Scotish poets, and the poem itself printed from "Gray's MS." 13. Sir John Barleycorn, from a stall-copy, printed in 1781, with a few corrections, concerning which piece it is remarked, that Burns's version cannot be said to have greatly improved it." There is a vignette to this ballad, "designed and etched by the ingenious young artist, W. Geikie," of Edinburgh, from whence I take the liberty to cut a figure, not for the purpose of conveying an idea of this "Allan-a-Maut," who is surrounded with like "good" company by Mr. Geikie's meritorious pencil, but to extend the knowledge of Mr. Geikie's name, who is perfectly unknown to me, except through the single print 1 refer to, which compels me to express warm admiration of his correct feeling, and assured talent. SAYING NOT MEANING. Two gentlemen their appetite had fed, That anchovies on terrâ firmâ grew." "Grew!" cried the other, "yes, they grow, indeed, Like other fish, but not upon the land; You might as well say grapes grow on a reed, Or in the Strand I" Why, sir," return'd the irritated other, "My brother, When at Calcutta, Beheld them bonâ fide growing; He wouldn't utter A lie for love or money, sir; so in This matter you are thoroughly mistaken." "Nonsense, sir! nonsense! I can give no credit To the assertion-none e'er saw or read it; Your brother, like his evidence, should be shaken." "Be shaken, sir! let me observe, you are Perverse-in short-" "Sir," said the other, sucking his cigar, And then his port "If will say impossibles are true, you You may affirm just any thing you please— That swans are quadrupeds, and lions blue, And elephants inhabit Stilton cheese! Only you must not force me to believe What's propagated merely to deceive." "Then you force me to say, sir, you're a fool," Language like this no man can suffer cool; Who had the impudence to tell it you." "Zounds! then d'ye mean to swear before my face That anchovies don't grow like cloves and mace ?" "I do!" Disputants often after hot debates Leave the contention as they found it-bone, And take to duelling, or thumping tétes ; Thinking, by strength of artery, to atone For strength of argument; and he who winces From force of words, with force of arms convinces ! With pistols, powder, bullets, surgeons, lint, Seconds, and smelling-bottles, and foreboding, And they did fight: from six full measured paces The whizzing lead had whizz'd its very worst, Our old gentleman, in order to be exclusively himself, must be either a widower or a bachelor. Suppose the former. We do not mention his precise age, which would be invidious;-nor whether he wears his own hair or a wig; which would be want. ing in universality. If a wig, it is a compromise between the more modern scratch and the departed glory of the toupee. If his own hair, it is white, in spite of his favourite grandson, who used to get on the chair behind him, and pull the silver hairs out, ten years ago. If he is bald at top, the hair-dresser, hovering and breathing about him like a second youth, takes care to give the bald place as much powder as the covered; in order that he may convey, to the sensorium within, a pleasing indistinctness of idea respecting the exact limits of skin and hair. He is very clean and neat; and in warm weather is proud of opening his waistcoat half way down, and letting so much of his frill be seen; in order to show his hardiness as well as taste. His watch and shirt-buttons are of the best; and he does not care if he has two rings on a finger. If his watch ever failed him at the club or coffee-house, he would take a walk every day to the nearest clock of good character, purely to keep it right. He has a cane at home, but seldom uses it, on finding it out of fashion with his elderly juniors. He has a small cocked hat for gala days, which he lifts higher from his head than the round one, when made a bow to. In his pockets are two handkerchiefs, (one for the neck at night-time,) his spectacles, and his pocket-book. The pocketbook, among other things, contains a receipt for a cough, and some verses cut out of an odd sheet of an old magazine, on the lovely duchess of A., beginning— When beauteous Mira walks the plain. He intends this for a common-place book which he keeps, consisting of passages in verse and prose cut out of newspapers and magazines, and pasted in columns; some of thera rather gay. His principal other books are Shakspeare's Plays and Milton's Paradise Lost; the Spectator, the History of England; the works of Lady M. W. Montague, Pope, and Churchill; Middleton's Geography, the Gentleman's Magazine; Sir John Sinclair on Longevity; several plays with portraits in character; Account of Elizabeth Canning, Memoirs of George Ann Bellamy, Poetical Amusements at Bath-Easton, Blair's Works, Elegant Extracts; Junius as originally published; a few pamphlets on the American War and Lord George Gordon, &c. and one on the French Revolution. In his sitting rooms are some engravings from Hogarth and Sir Joshua; an engraved portrait of the Marquis of Granby; ditto of M. le Comte de Grasse surrendering to Admiral Rodney; a humorous piece after Penny; and a portrait of himself, painted by Sir Joshua. His wife's portrait is in his chamber, looking upon his bed. She is a little girl, stepping forward with a smile and a pointed toe, as if going to dance. He lost her when she was sixty. The Old Gentleman is au early riser, because he intends to live at least twenty years longer. He continues to take tea for breakfast, in spite of what is said against its nervous effects; having been satisfied on that point some years ago by Dr. Johnson's criticism on Hanway, and a great liking for tea previously. His china cups and saucers have been broken since his wife's death, all but one, which is religiously kept for his use. He passes his morning in walking or riding, looking in at auctions, looking after his India bonds or some such money securities, furthering some subscription set on foot by his excellent friend sir John, or cheapening a new old print for his portfolio. He also hears of the newspapers; not caring to see them till after dinner at the coffee-house. He may also cheapen a fish or so; the fishmonger soliciting his doubting eye as he passes, with a profound bow of recognition. He eats a pear before dinner. His dinner at the coffee-house is served up to him at the accustomed hour, in the old accustomed way, and by the accustomed waiter. If William did not bring it, the fish would be sure to be stale, and the flesh new. He eats no tart; or if he ventures on a little, takes cheese with it. You might as soon attempt to persuade him out of his senses, as that cheese is not good for digestion. He takes port; and if he has drank more than usual, and in a more private place, may be induced by some respectful 66 There lived a happy pair. Of course, no such exploit can take place in the coffee-room; but he will canvass the theory of that matter there with you, or discuss the weather, or the markets, or the theatres, or the merits of "my lord North" or my lord Rockingham;" for he rarely says simply, lord; it is generally my lord," trippingly and genteelly off the tongue. If alone after dinner, his great delight is the newspaper; which he prepares to read by wiping his spectacles, carefully adjusting them on his eyes, and drawing the candle close to him, so as to stand sideways betwixt his ocular aim and the small type. He then holds the paper at arm's length, and dropping his eyelids half down and his mouth half open, takes cognizance of the day's information. If he leaves off, it is only when the door is opened by a new comer, or when he suspects somebody is over-anxious to get the paper out of his hand. On these occasions, he gives an important hem! or so; and re sumes. In the evening, our Old Gentleman is fond of going to the theatre, or of having a game of cards. If he enjoy the latter at his own house or lodgings, he likes to play with some friends whom he has known for many years; but an elderly stranger may be introduced, if quiet and scientific; and the privilege is extended to younger men of letters; who, if ill players, are good losers. Not that he is a miser; but to win money at cards is like proving his victory by getting the baggage; and to win of a younger man is a substitute for his not being able to beat him at rackets. He breaks up early, whether at home or abroad. At the theatre, he likes a front row in the pit. He comes early, if he can do so without getting into a squeeze, and sits patiently waiting for the drawing up of the curtain, with his hands placidly lying one over the other on the top of his stick. He generously admires some of the best performers, but thinks them far inferior to Garrick, Woodward, and Clive. During splendid scenes, he is anxious that the little boy should see. |