I
left Wordsworth on the 4th of this month; if I cannot procure a suitable
house at Stowey I return to Cumberland and settle at Keswick, in a house
of such prospect that if, according to you and Hume, impressions
constitute our being, I shall have a tendency to become a god, so
sublime and beautiful will be the series of my visual existence. But,
whether I continue here or migrate thither, I shall be in a beautiful
country, and have house-room and heart-room for you, and you must come
and write your next work at my house. My dear Godwin! I remember you
with so much pleasure, and our conversations so distinctly, that, I
doubt not, we have been mutually benefited; but as to your poetic and
physiopathic feelings, I more than suspect that dear little Fanny and
Mary have had more to do in that business than I. Hartley sends his love
to Mary. [1] "What, and not to Fanny?" "Yes, and to Fanny, but I'll
'have' Mary." He often talks about them.
My poor Lamb, how cruelly afflictions crowd upon him! I am glad that you
think of him as I think: he has an affectionate heart, a mind "sui
generis"; his taste acts so as to appear like the unmechanic simplicity
of an instinct; in brief, he is worth an hundred men of mere talents.
Conversation with the latter tribe is like the use of leaden bells--one
wearies by exercise. Lamb every now and then "irradiates", and the beam,
though single and fine as a hair, yet is rich with colours, and I both
see and feel it.
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