CHABLES LAMB AND THE COMPTROLLER OF STAMPS. 



167 



obtrude itsslf so as to detract from 

 the apparent value of the impres- 

 sion produced by another. 



" On a pedestal was a bust of 

 Pope, modelled, at least so far as a 

 part of the drapery was concerned, 

 by the artist (Roubilliac, I believe) 

 in the presence of Mr. Rogers. But 

 there were two objects in the room 

 which, more than any others, en- 

 grossed my attention the one re- 

 presented the enormous wealth of 

 its possessor, and the other indi- 

 cated his keen appreciation of the 

 value of mind. 



" These articles were simply two 

 small pieces of paper, in gold frames. 

 One of them vas a Bank of Eng- 

 land note for < ne million pounds 

 sterling, and the other the original 

 receipt of John Milton for five 

 pounds (the sum he received for 

 the copyright of Paradise Lost, 

 from Simrnonds, the bookseller). 

 The bank-note was one of the only 

 four which were ever struck from 

 a plate, which was afterwards de- 

 stroyed. The Rothschilds have one 

 impression ; the late Mr. Coutts 

 had another ; the Bank of England 

 the third ; and, as I have said, Mr. 

 Rogers decorates his parlour with 

 the remaining one. 

 . " There it hangs, within any one's 

 reach ; a fortune for many, but 

 valueless to all excepting its owner. 

 No one would think of stealing it, 

 for it would be only as so much 

 waste paper. It never could be 

 negotiated without detection, and, 

 were it destroyed by fire, from its 

 peculiar character, no loss would 

 ensue to Mr. Rogers. At his word, 

 however, it might be transformed 

 into a golden shower. He, alone, 

 is the magician who can render it 

 all-powerful for gqod or evil." 



CHAULES LAMB AND THE COMPTROL- 

 LER OF ."TAMPS. 



On December -28th the immortal 

 dinner came off in my painting- 

 room, witli Jerusalem towering up 



behind us as a background. "Words- 

 worth was in fine cue, and we had 

 a glorious set-to on Homer, Shak- 

 speare, Milton, and Virgil. Lamb 

 got exceedingly merry and exqui- 

 sitely witty, and his fun in the 

 midst of Wordsworth's solemn in- 

 tonations of oratory was like the 

 sarcasm and wit of the fool in the 

 intervals of Lear's passion. Lamb 

 soon got delightfully merry. He 

 made a speech and voted me ab- 

 sent, and made them drink my 

 health. " Now," said Lamb, " you 

 old lake poet, you rascally poet, 

 why do you call Voltaire dull?" 

 We all defended Wordsworth, and 

 affirmed there was a state of mind 

 when Voltaire would be dull. 

 "Well," said Lamb, "here's Vol- 

 taire, the Messiah of the French 

 nation, and a very proper one too." 

 He then, in a strain of humour 

 beyond description, abused me for 

 putting Newton's head into my 

 picture. " A fellow," said he, " who 

 believed nothing unless it was as 

 clear as the three sides of a tri- 

 angle." And then he and Keats 

 agreed he had destroyed all the 

 poetry of the rainbow, by reducing 

 it to the prismatic colours. It was 

 impossible to resist him, and we all 

 drank, " Newton's health, and con- 

 fusion to mathematics." It was 

 delightful to see the good-humour 

 of Wordsworth in giving in to 

 all our frolics without affectation, 

 and laughing as heartily as the 

 best of us. By this time other 

 friends joined, amongst them poor 

 Ritchie, who was going to pene- 

 trate by Fezzan to Timbuctoo. I 

 introduced him as "A gentleman 

 going to Africa." Lamb seemed 

 to take no notice ; but nil of a sud- 

 den, he roared out, " Which is the 

 gentleman we are going to lose ?" 

 \Vi- then drank the victim's health, 

 in which Ritchie joined. In the 

 morning of this delightful day a 

 gentleman, a perfect stranger, hud 

 called on me. He said he knew 



