The Friend

‘June 7th, 1809.

DEAR Coleridge,—I congratulate you on the appearance of “The Friend.” Your first number promises well, and I have no doubt the succeeding numbers will fulfil the promise…’

Charles Lamb’s letter to Samuel Taylor Coleridge (begun above) references Coleridge’s publication  “The Friend”, which was to ultimately reach 28 volumes.  Coleridge mentioned Sir Walter Scott more than once in “The Friend”.  The following is found in the notes to “The Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge” (edited by James Dykes Campbell).

‘…in after years, Coleridge himself looked back on his Wallenstein with some complacency.  In a note to Essay XVI of The Friend (1818, i. 204 – it is suppressed in later editions), he thanks Sir Walter Scott for quoting it ‘with applause’.  Sir Walter certainly said ‘Coleridge had made Schiller’s “Wallenstein” far finer than he found it’ (Lockhart’s Life, iv 193).  In another passage in The Friend (1818, iii. 99) Coleridge again makes his acknowledgements to Sir Walter and other ‘eminent and even popular literati.’

Retirement

Author Charles Lamb wrote a series of letters about his tenure with the British East India Company.  On April 6, 1825, he writes about his retirement.  From “The Best Letters of Charles Lamb”:

‘…a few days later, April 6, 1825, he [Charles Lamb] joyfully wrote to Barton,--

  "My spirits are so tumultuary with the novelty of my

  recent emancipation that I have scarce steadiness of hand,

  much more mind, to compose a letter, I am free, B.B.,--free

  as air!

  "'The little bird that wings the sky

  Knows no such liberty,'

  I was set free on Tuesday in last week at four o'clock. I

  came home forever!"

The quality of the generosity of the East India directors was not

strained in Lamb's case. It should be recorded as an agreeable

commercial phenomenon that these officials, men of business acting in "a

business matter,"--words too often held to exclude all such Quixotic

matters as sentiment, gratitude, and Christian equity between man and

man,--were not only just, but munificent. [16] From the path of Charles

and Mary Lamb--already beset with anxieties grave enough they removed

forever the shadow of want. Lamb's salary at the time of his retirement

was nearly seven hundred pounds a year, and the offer made to him was a

pension of four hundred and fifty, with a deduction of nine pounds a

year for his sister, should she survive him…’

Things did not work out as well for Walter Scott’s brother Robert, with regard to his experience with the same company.  The story, in Scott’s own words, is told in John Gibson Lockhart’s “Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott”.

‘…My eldest brother (that is, the eldest whom I remember to have seen) was Robert Scott, so called after my uncle, of whom I shall have much to say hereafter. He was bred in the King's service, under Admiral, then Captain William Dickson, and was in most of Rodney's battles. His temper was bold and haughty, and to me was often checkered with what I felt to be capricious tyranny. In other respects I loved him much, for he had a strong turn for literature, read poetry with taste and judgment, and composed verses himself, which had gained him great applause among his messmates. Witness the following elegy upon the supposed loss of the vessel, composed the night before Rodney's celebrated battle of April the 12th, 1782. It alludes to the various amusements of his mess:—

"No more the geese shall cackle on the poop,
No more the bagpipe through the orlop sound,
No more the midshipmen, a jovial group,
Shall toast the girls, and push the bottle round.
In death's dark road at anchor fast they stay,
Till Heaven's loud signal shall in thunder roar;
Then starting up, all hands shall quick obey,
Sheet home the topsail, and with speed unmoor."

…I have often thought how he [Robert] might have distinguished himself had he continued the navy until the present times, so glorious for nautical exploit. But the peace of Paris cut off all hopes of promotion for those who had not great interest; and some disgust which his proud spirit had taken at harsh usage from a superior officer combined to throw poor Robert into the East India Company’s service, for which his habits were ill adapted. He made two voyages to the East, and died a victim to the climate in . . .’

The last sentence is left incomplete.

Pig Tale

 

In a letter Charles Lamb wrote to Samuel Taylor Coleridge on March 9, 1822, a pig provides a source of some amusement:

‘It gives me great satisfaction to hear that the pig turned out so well – they are interesting creatures at a certain age – what a pity such buds should blow out into the maturity of rank bacon!  You had some of the crackling – and brain sauce – did you remember to rub it with butter, and gently dredge it a little, just before the crisis?...Not that I sent the pig…’

Another porcine character amused the Scott party one day, and inspired Scott to turn to verse, as told in Richard Hutton’s “Sir Walter Scott”.  ‘The order of march had been all settled, and the sociable was under weigh, when the lady Anne broke from the line, screaming with laughter, and exclaimed, “Papa! Papa! I know could never think of going without your pet.”  Scott looked round, and I rather think there was a blush as well as a smile upon his face, when he perceived a little black pig frisking about his pony, and evidently a self-elected addition to the party of the day.  He tried to look stern, and cracked his whip at the creature, but was in a moment obliged to join in the general cheers.  Poor piggy soon found a strap round his neck, and was dragged into the background.  Scott, watching the retreat, repeated with mock pathos the first verse of an old pastoral song:

“What will I do gin my hoggie die?

My joy, my pride, my hoggie!

My only beast, I had nae mae,

And wow! But I was vogie!”…

Godfather

On August 9, 1815, Charles Lamb wrote to Robert Southey on his pending godfathership:

‘I am going to stand godfather; I don’t like the business; I cannot muster up decorum for these occasions; I shall certainly disgrace the font.  I was at Hazlitt’s marriage, and had like to have been turned out several times during the ceremony.  Anything awful makes me laugh.  I misbehaved once at a funeral.  Yet I can read about these ceremonies with pious and proper feelings.  The realities of life only seem the mockeries.’

That letter was included in the Folio Book of Days.  Sir Walter Scott was probably godfather to more than one child, and he writes of one instance with more apparent zeal than did Lamb.  The text below comes from a letter to John Morritt, dated January 14, 1818, now published in “Familiar Letters of Walter Scott”.

‘…But my immediate labour has been in behalf of my friend Terry, the comedian, in whom, on account of his sense, information, and modesty I take a great interest. He has named a child after me, and I am preparing a godfather's gift in the shape of a drama.1 But godfathers, as in the time of conjurors and fames, may append what conditions they please to their gifts, and mine is that as I take no concern in the merit or in the emoluments of the piece in case of success, so I shall only be damn'd by proxy if damn'd I am. In a word, Terry takes his chance, and I believe there will be no medium, for if it does not succeed very decidedly, it will be damn'd most infernally. I have tried to coax the public to relax some of the rules of criticism, and to be amused with that medley of tragic and comic which life presents us, not only in the same course of action but in the same character. To deprecate all rigidity of judgment, I introduce the marvellous, the absurd, and something like the heroic, all to make the gruel slab…’

Thomas Hood

The poet and punster Thomas Hood passed this day (May 3rd) in 1845.  Approaching age 46 when he died, he left behind a notable legacy of poems, including "The Song of the Shirt" and "Bridge of Sighs".  He also met once with Walter Scott, and recorded his impressions of that meeting (below). 

Hood was sickly most of his life, but was known for his lively wit.  He managed to continue writing with illness that would have debilitated most.  His father was involved in the book trade, which may have provided an appreciation for literary work, to which he later took a keen interest.  His early writing, mainly for "Dundee Magazine", and later "London Magazine" brought him into contact with several literary figures, including Charles Lamb, who became a close lifelong friend.  Hood's first book was "Odes and Addresses".  It is through this work that Thomas Hood and Walter Scott ultimately met, as told in "Hood's own, of laughter from year to year...":

On the publication of the Odes and Addresses, presentation copies were sent, at the suggestion of a friend, to Mr. Canning and Sir Walter Scott. The minister took no notice of the little volume; but the novelist did, in his usual kind manner. An eccentric friend in writing to me, once made a number of colons, semicolons, &c., at the bottom of the paper, adding


" And these are my points that I place at the foot
That you may put stops that I can't stop to put."


It will surprise no one, to observe that the author of Waverley had as little leisure for punctuation.


"SIR Walter Scott has to make thankful acknowledgments for the copy of the Odes to Great People with which he was favoured and more particularly for the amusement he has received from the perusal. He wishes the unknown author good health good fortune and whatever other good things can best support and encourage his lively vein of inoffensive and humorous satire


Abbotsford Melrose 4th May"


The first time I ever saw the Great Unknown, was at the private view of Martin's Picture of " Nineveh,"—when, by a striking coincidence, one of our most celebrated women, and one of our greatest men, Mrs. Siddons and Sir Walter Scott walked simultaneously up opposite sides of the room, and met and shook hands in front of the painting. As Editor of the Gem, I had afterwards occasion to write to Sir Walter, from whom I received the following letter, which contains an allusion to some of his characteristic partialities:—


" Mr Dear Mr. Hood,—It was very ungracious in me to leave you in a day's doubt whether I was gratified or otherwise with the honour you did me to inscribe your whims and oddities to me I received with great pleasure this new mark of your kindness and it was only my leaving your volume and letter in the country which delayed my answer as I forgot the address

I was favoured with Mr. Cooper's beautiful sketch of the heartpiercing incident of the dead greyhound which is executed with a force and fancy which I flatter myself that I who was in my younger days and in part still am a great lover of dogs and horses and an accurate observer of their habits can appreciate. I intend the instant our term ends to send a few verses if I can make any at my years in acknowledgment. I will got a day's leisure for this purpose next week when I expect to be in the country Pray inform Mr. Cooper of my intention though I fear I will be unable to do anything deserving of the subject. I am very truly your obliged humble servant


Edinburgh 4 March Walter Scott."


At last, during one of his visits to London, I had the honour of a personal interview with Sir Walter Scott at Mr. Lockhart's, in Sussex Place. The number of the house had escaped my memory; but seeing a fine dog down an area, I knocked without hesitation at the door. It happened, however, to be the wrong one. I afterwards mentioned the circumstance to Sir Walter.- It was not a bad point, he said, for he was very fond of dogs; but he did not care to have his own animals with him, about London, " for fear he should be taken for Bill Gibbons." I then told him I had lately been reading the Fair Maid of Perth, which had reminded me of a very pleasant day spent many years before, beside the Linn of Campsie, the scene of Conachar's catastrophe. Perhaps he divined what had really occurred to me,—that the Linn, as a cataract, had greatly disappointed me; for he smiled, and shook his head archly, and said he had since seen it himself, and was rather ashamed of it. " But I fear, Mr. Hood, I have done worse than that before now, in finding a Monastery where there was none to be found; though there was plenty (here he smiled again) of Carduus Benedictus, or Holy Thistle."

In the mean time he was finishing his toilet, in order to dine at the Duchess of Kent's ; and before he put on his cravat I had an opportunity of noticing the fine massive proportions of his bust. It served to confirm me in my theory that such mighty men are, and must be, physically, as well as intellectually, gifted beyond ordinary mortals; that their strong minds must be backed by strong bodies. Remembering all that Sir Walter Scott had done, and all that he had suffered, methought he had been in more than one sense " a Giant in the Land." After some more conversation, in the course of which he asked me if I ever came to Scotland, and kindly said he should be glad to see me at Abbotsford, I took my leave, with flattering dreams in my head that never were, and now, alas ! never can be, realised !