with the freezing winters. The only remedy seems to have been extreme
quiet when any slight symptom of uneasiness was apparent. Charles (poor
fellow) had to live, day and night, in the society of a person who was--
mad! If any exciting talk occurred, he had to dismiss his friend with a
whisper. If any stupor or extraordinary silence was observed, then he had
to rouse her instantly. He has been seen to take the kettle from the fire
and place it for a moment on her head-dress, in order to startle her into
recollection. He lived in a state of constant anxiety;--and there was no
help.

Not to neglect Charles Lamb's migrations, it should be noted that he moved
his residence from Inner Temple Lane ("where he meant to live and die")
into Russell Street, Covent Garden, in the latter part of the year 1817.
When there, he became personally acquainted with several members of the
theatrical profession; amongst others, with Munden and Miss Kelly, for
both of whom he entertained the highest admiration. One of the (Elia)
Essays is written to celebrate Munden's histrionic talent; and in his
letters he speaks of "Fanny Kelly's divine plain face." The Barbara S. of
the second (or last) series of essays is, in fact, Miss Kelly herself. All
his friends knew that he was greatly attached to her.

He also became acquainted with Miss Burrell--afterwards Mrs. Gould--but
who, he says, "remained uncoined." Subsequently he was introduced to
Liston and Elliston, each of whom received tokens of his liking. The first
was the subject of an amusing fictitious biography. In Lamb's words, it
was "a lying life of Liston," uncontaminated by a particle of truth.
Munden, he says, had faces innumerable; Liston had only one; "but what a
face!" he adds, admitting it to be beyond all vain description. Perhaps
this subject of universal laughter and admiration never received such a
compliment, except from Hazlitt, who, after commenting on Hogarth's