Mr. Birrell is quite as selfish in his felicity as Mr. Saintsbury, and
perfectly frank in acknowledging it. He dwells rapturously over certain
well-loved pages of “Pride and Prejudice,” and “Mansfield Park,” and
then deliberately adds, “When an admirer of Miss Austen reads these
familiar passages, the smile of satisfaction, betraying the deep inward
peace they never fail to beget, widens, like ‘a circle in the water,’
as he remembers (and he is always careful to remember) how his dearest
friend, who has been so successful in life, can no more read Miss
Austen than he can read the Moabitish Stone.” The same peculiarity is
noticeable in the more ardent lovers of Charles Lamb. They seem to want
him all to themselves, look askance upon any fellow-being who ventures
to assert a modest preference for their idol, and brighten visibly
when some ponderous critic declares the Letters to be sad stuff, and
not worth half the exasperating nonsense talked about them. Yet Lamb
flung his good things to the winds with characteristic prodigality,
little recking by whom or in what spirit they were received. How many
witticisms, I wonder, were roared into the deaf ears of old Thomas
Westwood, who heard them not, alas, but who laughed all the same, out
of pure sociability, and with a pleasant sense that something funny
had been said! And what of that ill-fated pun which Lamb, in a moment
of deplorable abstraction, let fall at a funeral, to the surprise
and consternation of the mourners? Surely a man who could joke at a
funeral never meant his pleasantries to be hoarded up for the benefit
of an initiated few, but would gladly see them the property of all
living men; ay, and of all dead men, too, were such a distribution
possible. “Damn the age! I will write for antiquity!” he exclaimed,
with not unnatural heat, when the “Gypsy’s Malison” was rejected by the
ingenious editors of the “Gem,” on the ground that it would “shock all
mothers;” and even this expression, uttered with pardonable irritation,
manifests no solicitude for a narrow and esoteric audience.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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