was familiar with the works of his friend Wordsworth, of whom he cleverly
observed, in reply to the depreciating opinion of Mackintosh, "He strides
on so far before you, that he dwindles in the distance." [1]

It would be very interesting, were it practicable, to trace with certainty
the sources that supplied Charles Lamb's inspiration. But this must always
be impossible. For inspiration, in all cases, proceeds from many sources,
although there may be one influence predominating. It is clear that a
great Tragedy mainly determined his conduct through life, and operated,
therefore, materially on his thoughts as well as actions. The terrible
death of his mother concentrated and strengthened his mind, and prevented
its dissipation into trifling and ignoble thoughts. The regularity of the
India House labor upheld him. The extent and character of his acquaintance
also helped to determine the quality of the things which he produced. Had
he seen less, his mind might have become warped and rigid, as from want of
space. Had he seen too much, his thoughts might have been split and
exhausted upon too many points, and would thus have been so perplexed and
harassed, that the value of his productions, now known and current through
all classes, might scarcely have exceeded a negative quantity.

Then, in his companions he must be accounted fortunate. Coleridge helped
to unloose his mind from too precise notions: Southey gave it consistency
and correctness: Manning expanded his vision: Hazlitt gave him daring:
perhaps even poor George Dyer, like some unrecognized virtue, may have
kept alive and nourished the pity and tenderness which were originally
sown within him. We must leave the difficulty, as we must leave the great
problems of Nature, unexplained, and be content with what is self-evident
before us. We know, at all events, that he had an open heart, and that the
heart is a fountain which never fails.