The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb — Volume 1: Miscellaneous ProseLamb, Charles
General
The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb — Volume 1: Miscellaneous Prose
Lamb, Charles
English literature
The joint death[s] of both his parents, which happened not many months
after this disastrous accident, and were probably (one or both of them)
accelerated by it, threw our youth upon the protection of his maternal
great aunt, Mrs. Sittingbourn. Of this aunt we have never heard him
speak but with expressions amounting almost to reverence. To the
influence of her early counsels and manners, he has always attributed
the firmness with which, in maturer years, thrown upon a way of life,
commonly not the best adapted to gravity and self-retirement, he has
been able to maintain a serious character, untinctured with the levities
incident to his profession. Ann Sittingbourn (we have seen her portrait
by Hudson) was stately, stiff, tall, with a cast of features strikingly
resembling the subject of this memoir. Her estate in Kent was spacious
and well-wooded; the house, one of those venerable old mansions which
are so impressive in childhood, and so hardly forgotten in succeeding
years. In the venerable solitudes of Charnwood, among thick shades of
the oak and beech (this last his favourite tree), the young Liston
cultivated those contemplative habits which have never entirely deserted
him in after years. Here he was commonly in the summer months to be met
with, with a book in his hand--not a play-book--meditating. Boyle's
Reflections was at one time the darling volume, which in its turn was
superseded by Young's Night Thoughts, which has continued its hold upon
him through life. He carries it always about him; and it is no uncommon
thing for him to be seen, in the refreshing intervals of his occupation,
leaning against a side scene, in a sort of Herbert of Cherbury posture,
turning over a pocket edition of his favourite author.
But the solitudes of Charnwood were not destined always to obscure the
path of our young hero. The premature death of Mrs. Sittingbourn, at the
age of 70, occasioned by incautious burning of a pot of charcoal in her
sleeping chamber, left him in his 19th year nearly without resources.
That the stage at all should have presented itself as an eligible scope
for his talents, and, in particular, that he should have chosen a line
so foreign to what appears to have been his turn of mind, may require
some explanation.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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