William
Dean Howells, of all people, was a great admirer – in his words, a “lover” --
of Charles Lamb. From January 1886 to March 1892, Howells published his “Editor’s
Study” column in Harper's New Monthly
Magazine, all of which can be read here. Much of the March 1891 column is
devoted to a review of B.E. Martin’s In
the Footprints of Charles Lamb. I’m pleased by Howells’ revisionist
understanding of Lamb and Keats, so often trivialized into harmless sprites.
Lamb, he says, has been “unsparingly sentimentalized.”
Howells
suggests that “the English do not yet rank Lamb so high as we [Americans] do,
or care so tenderly for him.” He accounts for this, a little dubiously, by
citing Lamb’s friendships with such “low radicals” as Hunt and Hazlitt. I’m
also puzzled by Howells’ assertion that Lamb’s humor “seems as little English
in character as Heine’s wit seems German.” The Heine half I understand, but
Lamb’s humor seems quintessentially English to me – the antiquarianism, the
fine eye for manners, the puns and other linguistic extravagance, and Lamb’s enthusiastic
tolerance for eccentricity and sheer silliness. With Sterne and Dickens, Lamb constitutes
my American understanding of at least one strain of Englishness. A little
poking about has uncovered another allusion to Lamb by Howells, in a novel I
haven’t read, A Hazard of New Fortunes (1890):
“[Basil
March] went to his business, and hurried back to forget it, and dream his dream
of intellectual achievement…he could not conceal from himself that his divided
life was somewhat like Charles Lamb’s, and there were times when, as he
expressed to Fulkerson, he believed that its division was favorable to the
freshness of his interest in literature…He was proud of reading critically, and
he kept in the current of literary interests and controversies.”
Also,
Howells above refers to Carlyle’s dissenting opinion on Lamb. Here’s what the
Scotsman, surely among the most relentlessly unpleasant monomaniacs in literary
history, writes in his Notebooks on
Nov. 2, 1831, after visiting Lamb in Enfield:
“Charles
Lamb I sincerely believe to be in some considerable degree insane. A more
pitiful, rickety, gasping, staggering, stammering tomfool I do not know. He is
witty by denying truisms and abjuring good manners. His speech wriggles hither
and thither with an incessant painful fluctuation; not an opinion in it or a
fact or even a phrase that you can thank him for: more like a convulsion fit
than natural systole and diastole. — Besides he is now a confirmed shameless
drunkard; asks vehemently for gin-and-water in strangers’ houses; tipples till
he is utterly mad, and is only not thrown out of doors because he is too much
despised for taking such trouble with him. Poor Lamb! Poor England where such a
despicable abortion is named genius!”
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