Our joint hearty remembrances to both of you. Yours as ever,

C. LAMB.

[Frank was Francis John Field, Barron Field's brother, in the India House.

Sh.e.l.ley was drowned on July 8, 1822.

Talma was Francois Joseph Talma (1763-1826), the great French tragedian.

Lamb, introduced by John Howard Payne, saw him in "Regulus," but not understanding French was but mildly interested. "Ah," said Talma in the account by James Kenney printed in Henry Angelo's _Pic Nic_, "I was not very happy to-night; you must see me in 'Scylla.'" "Incidit in Scyllam,"

said Lamb, "qui vult vitare Charybdiro." "Ah, you are a rogue; you are a great rogue," was Talma's reply. Talma had bought a pair of bellows with Shakespeare's head on it. Lamb's belief in the authenticity of this portrait was misplaced, as the following account from _Chambers'

Journal_ for September 27, 1856, will show:--

About the latter part of the last century, one Zincke, an artist of little note, but grandson of the celebrated enameller of that name, manufactured fict.i.tious Shakespeares by the score.... The most famous of Zincke's productions is the well-known Talma Shakespeare, which gentle Charles Lamb made a pilgrimage to Paris to see; and when he did see, knelt down and kissed with idolatrous veneration. Zincke painted it on a larger panel than was necessary for the size of the picture, and then cut away the superfluous wood, so as to leave the remainder in the shape of a pair of bellows.... Zincke probably was thinking of "a muse of fire" when he adopted this strange method of raising the wind; but he made little by it, for the dealer into whose hands the picture pa.s.sed, sold it as a curiosity, not an original portrait, for 5. The buyer, being a person of ingenuity, and fonder of money than curiosities, fabricated a series of letters to and from Sir Kenelm Digby, and, pa.s.sing over to France, _planted_--the slang term used among the less honest of the curiosity-dealing fraternity--the picture and the letters in an old chateau near Paris. Of course a confederate managed to discover the _plant_, in the presence of witnesses, and great was the excitement that ensued. Sir Kenelm Digby had been in France in the reign of Charles I., and the fict.i.tious correspondence _proved_ that the picture was an original, and had been painted by Queen Elizabeth's command, on the lid of her favourite pair of bellows!

It really would seem that the more absurd a deception is, the better it succeeds. All Paris was in delight at possessing an original Shakespeare, while the London amateurs were in despair at such a treasure being lost to England. The ingenious person soon found a purchaser, and a high price recompensed him for his trouble. But more remains to be told. The happy purchaser took his treasure to Ribet, the first Parisian picture-cleaner of the day, to be cleaned. Ribet set to work; but we may fancy his surprise as the superficial _impasto_ of Zincke washed off beneath the sponge, and Shakespeare became a female in a lofty headgear adorned with blue ribbons.

In a furious pa.s.sion the purchaser ran to the seller. "Let us talk over the affair quietly," said the latter; "I have been cheated as well as you: let us keep the matter secret; if we let the public know it, all Paris and even London too, will be laughing at us. I will return you your money, and take back the picture, if you will employ Ribet to restore it to the same condition as it was in when you received it."

This fair proposition was acceded to, and Ribet restored the picture; but as he was a superior artist to Zincke, he greatly improved it, and this improvement was attributed to his skill as a cleaner. The secret being kept, and the picture, improved by cleaning, being again in the market, Talma, the great Tragedian, purchased it at even a higher price than that given by the first buyer. Talma valued it highly, enclosed it in a case of morocco and gold, and subsequently refused 1000 Napoleons for it; and even when at last its whole history was disclosed, he still cherished it as a genuine memorial of the great bard.

By kind permission of Mr. B.B. MacGeorge, the owner both of the letter and bellows, I was enabled to give a reproduction of the portrait in my large edition.

Ireland was the author of "Vortigern," the forged play attributed to Shakespeare.]

LETTER 292

CHARLES LAMB TO JOHN HOWARD PAYNE

[Autumn, 1822.]

Dear Payne--A friend and fellow-clerk of mine, Mr. White (a good fellow) coming to your parts, I would fain have accompanied him, but am forced instead to send a part of me, verse and prose, most of it from 20 to 30 years old, such as I then was, and I am not much altered.

Paris, which I hardly knew whether I liked when I was in it, is an object of no small magnitude with me now. I want to be going, to the Jardin des Plantes (is that right, Louisa?) with you to Pere de la Chaise, La Morgue, and all the sentimentalities. How is Talma, and his (my) dear Shakspeare?

N.B.--My friend White knows Paris thoroughly, and does not want a guide.

We did, and had one. We both join in thanks. Do you remember a Blue-Silk Girl (English) at the Luxembourg, that did not much seem to attend to the Pictures, who fell in love with you, and whom I fell in love with--an inquisitive, prying, curious Beauty--where is she?

_Votre Tres Humble Serviteur_,

CHARLOIS AGNEAU,

_alias_ C. LAMB.

Guichy is well, and much as usual. He seems blind to all the distinctions of life, except to those of s.e.x. Remembrance to Kenny and Poole.

[John Howard Payne (1792-1852) was born in New York. He began life as an actor in 1809 as Young Norval in "Douglas," and made his English _debut_ in 1813 in the same part. For several years he lived either in London or Paris, where among his friends were Washington Irving and Talma. He wrote a number of plays, and in one of them, "Clari, or the Maid of Milan," is the song "Home, Sweet Home," with Bishop's music, on which his immortality rests. Payne died in Tunis, where he was American Consul, in 1852, and when in 1883 he was reinterred at Washington, it was as the author of "Home, Sweet Home." He seems to have been a charming but ill-starred man, whom to know was to love.

Mr. White was Edward White of the India House, by whom Lamb probably sent a copy of the 1818 edition of his _Works_. Louisa was Louisa Holcroft. Guichy was possibly the Frenchman, mentioned by Crabb Robinson, with whom the Lambs had travelled to France. Poole was, I imagine, John Poole, the dramatist, author of burlesque plays in the _London Magazine_ and later of "Paul Pry," which, it is quite likely, he based on Lamb's sketch "Tom Pry."]

LETTER 293

CHARLES LAMB TO BERNARD BARTON

[Dated at end: 9 October 1822.]

Dear Sir--I am asham'd not sooner to have acknowledged your letter and poem. I think the latter very temperate, very serious and very seasonable. I do not think it will convert the club at Pisa, neither do I think it will satisfy the bigots on our side the water. Something like a parody on the song of Ariel would please them better.

Full fathom five the Atheist lies, Of his bones are h.e.l.l-dice made.--

I want time, or fancy, to fill up the rest. I sincerely sympathise with you on your doleful confinement. Of Time, Health, and Riches, the first in order is not last in excellence. Riches are chiefly good, because they give us Time. What a weight of wearisome prison hours have [I] to look back and forward to, as quite cut out [of] life--and the sting of the thing is, that for six hours every day I have no business which I could not contract into two, if they would let me work Task-work. I shall be glad to hear that your grievance is mitigated.

Sh.e.l.ly I saw once. His voice was the most obnoxious squeak I ever was tormented with, ten thousand times worse than the Laureat's, whose voice is the worst part about him, except his Laureatcy. Lord Byron opens upon him on Monday in a Parody (I suppose) of the "Vision of Judgment," in which latter the Poet I think did not much show _his_. To award his Heaven and his h.e.l.l in the presumptuous manner he has done, was a piece of immodesty as bad as Sh.e.l.leyism.

I am returning a poor letter. I was formerly a great Scribbler in that way, but my hand is out of order. If I said my head too, I should not be very much out, but I will tell no tales of myself. I will therefore end (after my best thanks, with a hope to see you again some time in London), begging you to accept this Letteret for a Letter--a Leveret makes a better present than a grown hare, and short troubles (as the old excuse goes) are best.

I hear that C. Lloyd is well, and has returned to his family. I think this will give you pleasure to hear.

I remain, dear Sir, yours truly

C. LAMB.

E.I.H.

9 Oct. 22.

[Barton had just published his _Verses on the Death of P.B. Sh.e.l.ley_, a lament for misapplied genius. The club at Pisa referred particularly to Byron, Leigh Hunt, and Trelawney. Trelawney placed three lines from Ariel's song in "The Tempest" on Sh.e.l.ley's monument; but whether Lamb knew this, or his choice of rival lines is a coincidence, I do not know.

Trelawney chose the lines:--

Nothing of him that doth fade But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange.

There is no other record of Lamb's meeting with Sh.e.l.ley, who, by the way, admired Lamb's writings warmly, particularly _Mrs. Leicester's School_ (see the letter to Barton, August 17, 1824).

Byron's _Vision of Judgment_, a burlesque of Southey's poem of the same name, was printed in _The Liberal_ for 1822.]

LETTER 294

CHARLES LAMB TO B.R. HAYDON

India House, 9th October, 1822.