He was an eccentric man, a serio-comic
character, whose sad life is singularly contrasted with his irrepressible
humor. His sister, whom he has so tenderly described as Bridget Elia, in a
fit of insanity killed their mother with a carving-knife, and Lamb devoted
himself to her care.
He was a poet, and left quaint and beautiful album verses and minor
pieces. As a dramatist, he is known by his tragedy _John Woodvil_, and the
farce _Mr. H----_, neither of which was a success. But he has given us in
his _Specimens of Old English Dramatists_ the result of great reading and
rare criticism.
But it is chiefly as a writer of essays and short stories that he is
distinguished. The _Essays of Elia_, in their vein, mark an era in the
literature; they are light, racy, seemingly dashed off, but really full of
his reading of the older English authors. Indeed, he is so quaint in
thought and style, that he seems an anachronism--a writer of the
Elizabethan period returned to life in this century. He bubbles over with
puns, jests, and repartees; and although not popular in the sense of
reaching the multitude, he is the friend and companion of congenial
readers.
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