This charming little book was published by Mrs. Godwin at the end of 1808, dated 1809, with no author's name attached. Besides, however, ample internal evidence as to its authorship, there are many references to it in Lamb's letters. Why it was issued anonymously we cannot now learn; probably, as I have suggested, from Mary Lamb's unwillingness to have her name in print. The Tales from Shakespear, it will be remembered, were described always as being by Charles Lamb, although Mary did far more than half, and it was at the outset her book. Her share of Mrs. Leicester's School was equally great, and a sentence in one of her letters to Sarah Stoddart suggests that it was hers in inception also: "I have been busy making waistcoats, and plotting new work to succeed the Tales." Possibly it was because his share in the book was so small that Lamb refused to sign Mrs. Leicester's School as he had the Tales from Shakespear; possibly he had other reasons, the title-page of his Dramatic Specimens being one of them. When, a little while afterwards, the Poetry for Children was published, it was stated to be "by the author of Mrs. Leicester's School," while several of the poems when reprinted by Mylius (see notes below) were signed Mrs. Leicester. Thus, Mary Lamb's last chance of seeing her name on a title-page vanished. But we may feel confident that her own wishes were consulted in the matter.
Lamb's share in Mrs. Leicester's School we know from a letter to Bernard Barton (January 23, 1824): "My Sister's part in the Leicester School (about two thirds) was purely her own; as it was (to the same quantity) in the Shakspeare Tales which bear my name. I wrote only the Witch Aunt, the first going to Church, and the final Story, about a little Indian girl in a ship."
The little book was well received, and was quietly popular for some years, running into eight editions by 1823. I imagine, however, that it was little known between 1830 and the end of the century. Latterly there has been a revival in interest. One or two critics have touched rapturous heights in their praise. Landor wrote to Crabb Robinson in April, 1831:—
It is now several days since I read the book you recommended to me, "Mrs. Leicester's School;" and I feel as if I owed you a debt in deferring to thank you for many hours of exquisite delight. Never have I read anything in prose so many times over within so short a space of time as "The Father's Wedding-day." Most people, I understand, prefer the first tale—in truth a very admirable one—but others could have written it. Show me the man or woman, modern or ancient, who could have written this one sentence: "When I was dressed in my new frock, I wished poor mamma was alive, to see how fine I was on papa's wedding day; and I ran to my favourite station at her bedroom door." How natural, in a little girl, is this incongruity—this impossibility! Richardson would have given his "Clarissa," and Rousseau his "Heloïse" to have imagined it. A fresh source of the pathetic bursts out before us, and not a bitter one. If your Germans can show us anything comparable to what I have transcribed, I would almost undergo a year's gargle of their language for it. The story is admirable throughout—incomparable, inimitable….
Landor wrote to Lady Blessington to the same effect. Praise of this book is so pleasant to read that I quote his second letter too:—
One of her tales is, with the sole exception of the Bride of Lammermoor, the most beautiful tale in prose composition in any language, ancient or modern. A young girl has lost her mother, the father marries again, and marries a friend of his former wife. The child is ill reconciled to it, but being dressed in new clothes for the marriage, she runs up to her mother's chamber, filled with the idea how happy that dear mother would be at seeing her in all her glory—not reflecting, poor soul! that it was only by her mother's death that she appeared in it. How natural, how novel is all this! Did you ever imagine that a fresh source of the pathetic would burst forth before us in this trodden and hardened world? I never did, and when I found myself upon it, I pressed my temples with both hands, and tears ran down to my elbows.
And Coleridge remarked to Allsop:—
It at once soothes and amuses me to think—nay, to know—that the time will come when this little volume of my dear and well-nigh oldest friend, Mary Lamb, will be not only enjoyed but acknowledged as a rich jewel in the treasury of our permanent English literature; and I cannot help running over in my mind the long list of celebrated writers, astonishing geniuses, Novels, Romances, Poems, Histories and dense Political Economy quartos which, compared with Mrs. Leicester's School, will be remembered as often and prized as highly as Wilkie's and Glover's Epics and Lord Bolingbroke's Philosophies compared with Robinson Crusoe.
I have set up the book from the second edition, 1809, because the Lambs' final text is probably to be found there. Although certain additional minor differences were made in the eighth and ninth editions, 1821 and 1825, I think it very unlikely that they were made by Mary or Charles Lamb. The principal alteration between the second and first editions is page 317, line 6, "your eyes were red with weeping," for "The traces of tears might still be seen on your cheeks." The other differences are very slight, mostly being in punctuation, but there are also a few changes of word. I leave these, however, to the Bibliographer.
The eighth edition was furnished with the following preface; which, though it is signed "The Author," is not, I think, from either Mary or Charles Lamb's pen. I rather suspect Mrs. Godwin.