DEAR Wordsworth, Your letter, save in what respects your dear Sister’s health, chear’d me in my new solitude. Mary is ill again. Her illnesses encroach yearly. The last was three months, followed by two of depression most dreadful. I look back upon her earlier attacks with longing. Nice little durations of six weeks or so, followed by complete restoration—shocking as they were to me then. In short, half her life she is dead to me, and the other half is made anxious with fears and lookings forward to the next shock. With such prospects, it seem’d to me necessary that she should no longer live with me, and be fluttered with continual removals, so I am come to live with her, at a Mr. Walden’s and his wife, who take in patients, and have arranged to lodge and board us only. They have had the care of her before. I see little of her; alas! I too often hear her. Sunt lachrymæ rerum—and you and I must bear it—
To lay a little more load on it, a circumstance has happen’d, cujus pars magna fui, and which at another crisis I should have more rejoiced in. I am about to lose my old and only walk-companion, whose mirthful spirits were the “youth of our house,” Emma Isola. I have her here now for a little while, but she is too nervous properly to be under such a roof, so she will make short visits, be no more an inmate. With my perfect approval, and more than concurrence, she is to be wedded to Moxon at the end of Augst. So “perish the roses and the flowers”—how is it?
Now to the brighter side, I am emancipated from most hated and detestable people, the Westwoods. I am with attentive people, and
912 | LETTERS OF C. AND M. LAMB | Sept. |
Thank you for your cordial reception of Elia. Inter nos the Ariadne is not a darling with me, several incongruous things are in it, but in the composition it served me as illustrative
I want you in the popular fallacies to like the “Home that is no home” and “rising with the lark.”
I am feeble, but chearful in this my genial hot weather,—walk’d 16 miles yesterdy. I can’t read much in Summer time.
With very kindest love to all and prayers for dear Dorothy,
Moxon has introduced Emma to Rogers, and he smiles upon the project. I have given E. my Milton—will you pardon me?—in part of a portion. It hangs famously in his Murray-like shop.
[On the wrapper is written:—]
Dr M[oxon], inclose this in a better-looking paper, and get it frank’d, and good by’e till Sundy. Come early—