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LETTER 81（第1页）

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“TheWorksofCharlesandMaryLamb—Volume5（.shg.tw）”

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LETTER81

CHARLESLAMBTOWILLIAMWORDSWORTH

[P.M.January30，1801.]

ThanksforyourLetterandPresent.Ihadalreadyborrowedyoursecondvolume.Whatmostpleasemeare，theSongofLucy….SimonssicklydaughterintheSextonmademecry.NexttothesearethedescriptionofthecontinuousEchoesinthestoryofJoannaslaugh，wherethemountainsandallthesceneryabsolutelyseemalive—andthatfineShakesperiancharacteroftheHappyMan，intheBrothers，

—thatcreepsaboutthefields，

Followinghisfanciesbythehour，tobring

Tearsdownhischeek，orsolitarysmiles

Intohisface，untiltheSettingSun

WriteFooluponhisforehead.

Iwillmentiononemore:thedelicateandcuriousfeelinginthewishfortheCumberlandBeggar，thathemayhaveabouthimthemelodyofBirds，althohehearthemnot.Herethemindknowinglypassesafictionuponherself，firstsubstitutingherownfeelingsfortheBeggars，and，inthesamebreathdetectingthefallacy，willnotpartwiththewish.—ThePoetsEpitaphisdisfigured，tomytastebythevulgarsatireuponparsonsandlawyersinthebeginning，andthecoarseepithetofpinpointinthe6thstanza.Alltherestiseminentlygood，andyourown.IwilljustaddthatitappearstomeafaultintheBeggar，thattheinstructionsconveyedinitaretoodirectandlikealecture:theydontslideintothemindofthereader，whileheisimaginingnosuchmatter.Anintelligentreaderfindsasortofinsultinbeingtold，Iwillteachyouhowtothinkuponthissubject.Thisfault，ifIamright，isinaten-thousandthworsedegreetobefoundinSterneandmanymanynovelists&modernpoets，whocontinuallyputasignpostuptoshewwhereyouaretofeel.Theysetoutwithassumingtheirreaderstobestupid.VerydifferentfromRobinsonCrusoe，theVicarofWakefield，RoderickRandom，andotherbeautifulbarenarratives.ThereisimpliedanunwrittenpactbetweenAuthorandreader;Iwilltellyouastory，andIsupposeyouwillunderstandit.Modernnovels"

St.Leons"

andthelikearefullofsuchflowersasthese"

Letnotmyreadersuppose，"

"

Imagine，ifyoucan"

—modest!—&c.—Iwillherehavedonewithpraiseandblame.Ihavewrittensomuch，onlythatyoumaynotthinkIhavepassedoveryourbookwithoutobservation，—IamsorrythatColeridgehaschristenedhisAncientMarinere"

apoetsReverie"

—itisasbadasBottomtheWeaversdeclarationthatheisnotaLionbutonlythescenicalrepresentationofaLion.WhatnewideaisgainedbythisTitle，butonesubversiveofallcredit，whichthetaleshouldforceuponus，ofitstruth?Forme，IwasneversoaffectedwithanyhumanTale.Afterfirstreadingit，Iwastotallypossessedwithitformanydays—Idislikeallthemiraculouspartofit，butthefeelingsofthemanundertheoperationofsuchscenerydraggedmealonglikeTomPipersmagicwhistle.ItotallydifferfromyourideathattheMarinereshouldhavehadacharacterandprofession.ThisisaBeautyinGulliversTravels，wherethemindiskeptinaplacidstateoflittlewonderments;buttheAncientMarinereundergoessuchTrials，asoverwhelmandburyallindividualityormemoryofwhathewas，likethestateofamaninaBaddream，oneterriblepeculiarityofwhichis:thatallconsciousnessofpersonalityisgone.YourotherobservationisIthinkaswellalittleunfounded:theMarinerefrombeingconversantinsupernaturaleventshasacquiredasupernaturalandstrangecastofphrase，eye，appearance，&c.whichfrightentheweddingguest.Youwillexcusemyremarks，becauseIamhurtandvexedthatyoushouldthinkitnecessary，withaproseapology，toopentheeyesofdeadmenthatcannotsee.Tosumupageneralopinionofthesecondvol.—IdonotfeelanyonepoeminitsoforciblyastheAncientMarinere，theMadMother，andtheLinesatTinternAbbeyinthefirst.—Icould，too，havewishedtheCriticalprefacehadappearedinaseparatetreatise.Allitsdogmasaretrueandjust，andmostofthemnew，ascriticism.ButtheyassociateadiminishingideawiththePoemswhichfollow，ashavingbeenwrittenforExperimentonthepublictaste，morethanhavingsprung（astheymusthavedone）fromlivinganddailycircumstances.—Iamprolix，becauseIamgratifyedintheopportunityofwritingtoyou，andIdontwellknowwhentoleaveoff.IoughtbeforethistohavereplydtoyourverykindinvitationintoCumberland.WithyouandyourSisterIcouldganganywhere.ButIamafraidwhetherIshalleverbeabletoaffordsodesperateaJourney.

Separatefromthepleasureofyourpany，IdontmuchcareifIneverseeamountaininmylife.IhavepassedallmydaysinLondon，untilIhaveformedasmanyandintenselocalattachments，asanyofyoumountaineerscanhavedonewithdeadnature.TheLightedshopsoftheStrandandFleetStreet，theinnumerabletrades，tradesmenandcustomers，coaches，waggons，playhouses，allthebustleandwickednessroundaboutCoventGarden，theverywomenoftheTown，theWatchmen，drunkenscenes，rattles，—lifeawake，ifyouawake，atallhoursofthenight，theimpossibilityofbeingdullinFleetStreet，thecrowds，theverydirt&mud，theSunshininguponhousesandpavements，theprintshops，theoldbookstalls，parsonscheapningbooks，coffeehouses，steamsofsoupsfromkitchens，thepantomimes，Londonitselfapantomimeandamasquerade，—allthesethingsworkthemselvesintomymindandfeedme，withoutapowerofsatiatingme.Thewonderofthesesightsimpellsmeintonight-walksabouthercrowdedstreets，andIoftenshedtearsinthemotleyStrandfromfulnessofjoyatsomuchLife.—Alltheseemotionsmustbestrangetoyou.Soareyourruralemotionstome.Butconsider，whatmustIhavebeendoingallmylife，nottohavelentgreatportionsofmyheartwithusurytosuchscenes?—

Myattachmentsarealllocal，purelylocal.Ihavenopassion（orhavehadnonesinceIwasinlove，andthenitwasthespuriousengenderingofpoetry&books）togrovesandvallies.TheroomswhereIwasborn，thefurniturewhichhasbeenbeforemyeyesallmylife，abookcasewhichhasfollowedmeabout（likeafaithfuldog，onlyexceedinghiminknowledge）whereverIhavemoved—oldchairs，oldtables，streets，squares，whereIhavesunnedmyself，myoldschool，—thesearemymistresses.HaveInotenough，withoutyourmountains?Idonotenvyyou.Ishouldpityyou，didInotknow，thattheMindwillmakefriendsofanything.Yoursun&moonandskysandhills&lakesaffectmenomore，orscarcelyetomeinmorevenerablecharacters，thanasagildedroomwithtapestryandtapers，whereImightlivewithhandsomevisibleobjects.Iconsiderthecloudsabovemebutasaroof，beautifullypaintedbutunabletosatisfythemind，andatlast，likethepicturesoftheapartmentofaconnoisseur，unabletoaffordhimanylongerapleasure.Sofadinguponme，fromdisuse，havebeentheBeautiesofNature，astheyhavebeenconfinedlycalled;soeverfresh&greenandwarmarealltheinventionsofmenandassembliesofmeninthisgreatcity.IshouldcertainlyhavelaughedwithdearJoanna.

Givemykindestlove，andmysisters，toD.&your_self_andakissfrommetolittleBarbaraLewthwaite.

C.LAMB.

ThankyouforLikingmyPlay!!

[Thisisthefirst—andperhapsthefinest—letterfromLambtoWordsworththathasbeenpreserved.Wordsworth，thenlivingwithhissisterDorothyatDoveCottage，Grasmere，wasnearlythirty-oneyearsofage;Lambwasnearlytwenty-six.TheworkcriticisedisthesecondeditionoftheLyricalBallads.Thesecondandsixthstanzasofthe"

PoetsEpitaph"

ranthus:—

ALawyerartthou?—drawnotnigh;

Go，carrytosomeotherplace

Thehardnessofthycowardeye，

Thefalshoodofthysallowface.

Wrappdcloselyinthysensualfleece

Oturnaside，andtake，Ipray，

Thathebelowmayrestinpeace，

Thypin-pointofasoulaway!