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These were now much extended in number, by the publication of the Essays of Elia. I was in the habit of seeing him very frequently at his home: I met him also at Mr. Cary's, at Leigh Hunt's, at Novello's, at Haydon's, once at Hazlitt's, and elsewhere. Lamb's letters to correspondents are perhaps not quite so frequent now as formerly.
They expected daily to be reinforced by two other tribes, and had been waiting eleven days for the arrival of Mr. Hunt's party, with a determination to oppose their progress up the river; being resolved to prevent all trade of the white men with their enemies the Arickaras, Mandans, and Minatarees.
Hunt's visit they still boasted about two hundred warriors and hunters, but they are now fast melting away, and before long, will be numbered among those extinguished nations of the west that exist but in tradition. In his correspondence with Mr. Astor, from this point of his journey, Mr. Hunt gives a sad account of the Indian tribes bordering on the river.
But however varied the mode of creation may be, an almost unvarying characteristic of the production of really precious and lasting artwork is ungrudging painstaking, such as we find described in William Hunt's "Talks about Art": "If you could see me dig and groan, rub it out and start again, hate myself and feel dreadfully!
Thus we stand on velvet as to finance. Met Staffa, who walked with me and gave me some Gaelic words which I wanted. I may mention that I saw at the printing-office a part of a review on Leigh Hunt's Anecdotes of Byron.
The essay on the Artificial Comedy of the Last Century is one of the Essays of Elia, published in the London Magazine between 1820 and 1822. The paradox started by Lamb was taken up by Leigh Hunt in his edition of the Comic Dramatists of the Restoration, and was attacked by Macaulay in his well-known review of Hunt's work.
It is easy to figure the scene; the men all clean-shaven, in the clumsy coats, high collars, and enormous neck-cloths of the period, the ladies, and there were naturally more ladies than men, following the vagaries of fashion in 'bishop' sleeves and the 'pretty church-and-state bonnets, that seemed to Hunt at times, 'to think through all their ribbons. We call that kind of bonnet 'coal-scuttle' now, but Maclise's portrait of Lady Morgan trying hers on before a glass justifies Hunt's epithet.
"Ah, I see you have Rossetti's delightfully anemic Madonna, and Holman Hunt's 'Light of the World. A day or two ago I was talking to a lady who pronounced that " he extended his finger toward the Hunt "the greatest work of art produced in the last hundred years. Her reason? Its comforting quality. I am sure you agree with her. Good-by." He made a sidling movement toward the door.
Abroad by water with my wife and Ashwell, and left them at Mr. Pierce's, and I to Whitehall and St. So to Mrs. Hunt's, and there found my wife, and so took them up by coach, and carried them to Hide Park, where store of coaches and good faces. Here till night, and so home and to my office to write by the post, and so to supper and to bed. 14th.
And wash thee in the pool below the stepping-stones, as I shall do whiles thou art away, and by then thou comest back, all shall be ready, save the roasting of the venison." So he did off his wargear, but thereafter tarried a little, looking at her, and she said: "What aileth thee not to go? the hunt's up."
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