MY dear Miss
Wordsworth, Your kind letter has given us very great
pleasure,—the sight of your hand writing was a most welcome surprize to us. We
have heard good tidings of you by all our friends who were so fortunate as to
visit you this summer, and rejoice to see it confirmed by yourself. You have
quite the
| 506 | LETTERS OF C. AND M. LAMB | Nov. |
We have left the Temple. I think you will be sorry to hear this. I know I have never been so well satisfied with thinking of you at Rydal Mount as when I could connect the idea of you with your own Grasmere Cottage. Our rooms were dirty and out of repair, and the inconveniences of living in chambers became every year more irksome, and so at last we mustered up resolution enough to leave the good old place that so long had sheltered us—and here we are, living at a Brazier’s shop, No. 20, in Russell Street, Covent Garden, a place all alive with noise and bustle, Drury Lane Theatre in sight from our front and Covent Garden from our back windows. The hubbub of the carriages returning from the play does not annoy me in the least—strange that it does not, for it is quite tremendous. I quite enjoy looking out of the window and listening to the calling up of the carriages and the squabbles of the coachmen and linkboys. It is the oddest scene to look down upon, I am sure you would be amused with it. It is well I am in a chearful place or I should have many misgivings about leaving the Temple. I look forward with great pleasure to the prospect of seeing my good friend Miss Hutchinson. I wish Rydal Mount with all its inhabitants enclosed were to be transplanted with her and to remain stationary in the midst of Covent Garden. I passed through the street lately where Mr. and Mrs. Wordsworth lodged; several fine new houses, which were then just rising out of the ground, are quite finished and a noble entrance made that way into Portland Place.
I am very sorry for Mr. De Quincey—what a blunder the poor man made when he took up his dwelling among the mountains. I long to see my friend Pypos. Coleridge is still at Little Hampton with Mrs. Gillman, he has been so ill as to be confined to his room almost the whole time he has been there.
Charles has had all his Hogarths bound in a book, they were sent home
yesterday, and now that I have them all together and perceive the advantage of
peeping close at them through my spectacles I am reconciled to the loss of them
hanging round the room, which has been a great mortification to me—in vain I
tried to console myself with looking at our new chairs and carpets, for we have
got new chairs, and carpets covering all over our two sitting rooms, I missed
my old friends and could not be comforted—then I would resolve to learn to look
out of the window, a habit I never could attain in my life, and I have given it
up as a thing quite impracticable—yet when I was at Brighton last summer, the
first week I never took my eyes off from the sea, not even to look in a book. I
had not seen the sea for sixteen years. Mrs.
Morgan, who was with us, kept her liking, and continued her seat
in the window till the
| 1817 | THE MOVE TO RUSSELL STREET | 507 |
God bless you and yours. Love to all and each one.
I am ever yours most affectionately
