[William Harrison Ainsworth, afterwards to be known as a novelist, was
then a solicitor's pupil at Manchester, aged 18. He had sent Lamb
William Warner's _Syrinx; or, A Sevenfold History_, 1597. The book was a
gift, and is now in the Dyce and Foster library at South Kensington.

Goethe's _Faust_. Lamb, as we have seen, had read the account of the
play in Madame de Stael's _Germany_. He might also have read the
translation by Lord Francis Leveson-Gower, 1823. Hayward's translation
was not published till 1834. Goethe admired Lamb's sonnet on his family
name.]

LETTER 338

CHARLES LAMB TO W. HARRISON AINSWORTH

[Dated at end: December 29 (1823).]

My dear Sir--You talk of months at a time and I know not what
inducements to visit Manchester, Heaven knows how gratifying! but I have
had my little month of 1823 already. It is all over, and without
incurring a disagreeable favor I cannot so much as get a single holyday
till the season returns with the next year. Even our half-hour's
absences from office are set down in a Book! Next year, if I can spare a
day or two of it, I will come to Manchester, but I have reasons at home
against longer absences.--

I am so ill just at present--(an illness of my own procuring last night;
who is Perfect?)--that nothing but your very great kindness could make
me write. I will bear in mind the letter to W.W., you shall have it
quite in time, before the 12.

My aking and confused Head warns me to leave off.--With a muddled sense
of gratefulness, which I shall apprehend more clearly to-morrow, I
remain, your friend unseen,

C.L.

I.H. 29th.

Will your occasions or inclination bring _you_ to London? It will give
me great pleasure to show you every thing that Islington can boast, if
you know the meaning of that very Cockney sound. We have the New River!

I am asham'd of this scrawl: but I beg you to accept it for the present.
I am full of qualms.

A fool at 50 is a fool indeed.

[W.W. was Wordsworth.

"A fool at 50 is a fool indeed." "A fool at forty is a fool indeed" was
Young's line in Satire II. of the series on "Love of Fame." Lamb was
nearing forty-nine.]

LETTER 339

CHARLES LAMB TO BERNARD BARTON

[January 9, 1824.]

Dear B.B.--Do you know what it is to succumb under an insurmountable day
mare--a whoreson lethargy, Falstaff calls it--an indisposition to do any
thing, or to be any thing--a total deadness and distaste--a suspension
of vitality --an indiffere