(especially party politics) were seldom admitted. Lamb disliked them as a
theme for evening talk; he perhaps did not understand the subject
scientifically. And when Hazlitt's impetuosity drove him, as it sometimes
did, into fierce expressions on public affairs, these were usually
received in silence; and the matter thus raised up for assent or
controversy was allowed to drop.

Lamb's old associates are now dead. "They that lived so long," as he says,
"and flourished so steadily, are all crumbled away." The beauty of these
evenings was, that every one was placed upon an easy level. No one out-
topped the others. No one--not even Coleridge--was permitted to out-talk
the rest. No one was allowed to hector another, or to bring his own
grievances too prominently forward, so as to disturb the harmony of the
night. Every one had a right to speak, and to be heard; and no one was
ever trodden or clamored down (as in some large assemblies) until he had
proved that he was not entitled to a hearing, or until he had abused his
privilege. I never, in all my life, heard so much unpretending good sense
talked, as at Charles Lamb's social parties. Often a piece of sparkling
humor was shot out that illuminated the whole evening. Sometimes there was
a flight of high and earnest talk, that took one half way towards the
stars.

It seems great matter for regret that the thoughts of men like Lamb's
associates should have passed away altogether; for scarcely any of them,
save Wordsworth and Coleridge, are now distinctly remembered; and it is,
perhaps, not impossible to foretell the duration of _their_ fame. All have
answered their purpose, I suppose. Each has had his turn, and has given
place to a younger thinker, as the father is replaced by the son. Thus
Jeremy Taylor and Sir Thomas Browne, and Webster, and the old Dramatists,
have travelled out of sight, and their thoughts are reproduced by modern