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Journals, Volume 2., by Lord Byron
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Title: The Works of Lord Byron: Letters and Journals, Volume 2.
Author: Lord Byron
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BYRON: LETTERS AND JOURNALS, VOLUME 2 ***
Produced by Clytie Siddall, Keren Vergon,
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team!
Byron's Letter and Journals
Volume 2
(August 1811-April 1814)
Part of Byron's Works
a New, Revised and Enlarged Edition,
with Illustrations.
This volume edited by
Rowland E. Prothero
1898
Table of Contents
The second volume of Mr. Murray's edition of Byron's Letters and
Journals carries the autobiographical record of the poet's life from
August, 1811, to April, 1814. Between these dates were published
Childe Harold (Cantos I., II.), The Waltz, The Giaour, The
Bride of Abydos, the Ode to Napoleon Buonaparte. At the
beginning of this period Byron had suddenly become the idol of society;
towards its close his personal popularity almost as rapidly declined
before a storm of political vituperation.
Three great collections of Byron's letters, as was noted in the Preface
to the previous volume1, are in existence. The first is contained in
Moore's Life (1830); the second was published in America, in
FitzGreene Halleck's edition of Byron's Works (1847); of the
third, edited by Mr. W. E. Henley, only the first volume has yet
appeared. A comparison between the letters contained in these three
collections and in that of Mr. Murray, down to December, 1813, shows the
following results: Moore prints 152 letters; Halleck, 192; Mr. Henley,
231. Mr. Murray's edition adds 236 letters to Moore, 196 to Halleck, and
to Mr. Henley 157. It should also be noticed that the material added to
Moore's Life in the second and third collections consists almost
entirely of letters which were already in print, and had been, for the
most part, seen and rejected by the biographer. The material added in
Mr. Murray's edition, on the contrary, consists mainly of letters which
have never before been published, and were inaccessible to Moore when he
wrote his Life of Byron.
These necessary comparisons suggest some further remarks. It would have
been easy, not only to indicate what letters or portions of letters are
new, but also to state the sources whence they are derived. But, in the
circumstances, such a course, at all events for the present, is so
impolitic as to be impossible. On the other hand, anxiety has been
expressed as to the authority for the text which is adopted in these
volumes. To satisfy this anxiety, so far as circumstances allow, the
following details are given.
The material contained in these two volumes consists partly of letters
now for the first time printed; partly of letters already published by
Moore, Dallas, and Leigh Hunt, or in such books as Galt's Life of
Lord Byron, and the Memoirs of Francis Hodgson. Speaking
generally, it may be said that the text of the new matter, with the few
exceptions noted below, has been prepared from the original letters, and
that it has proved impossible to authenticate the text of most of the
old material by any such process.
The point may be treated in greater detail. Out of the 388 letters
contained in these two volumes, 220 have been printed from the original
letters. In these 220 are included practically the whole of the new
material. Among the letters thus collated with the originals are those
to Mrs. Byron (with four exceptions), all those to the Hon. Augusta
Byron, to the Hanson family, to James Wedderburn Webster, and to John
Murray, twelve of those to Francis Hodgson, those to the younger
Rushton, William Gifford, John Cam Hobhouse, Lady Caroline Lamb, Mrs.
Parker, Bernard Barton, and others. The two letters to Charles Gordon
(30, 33), the three to Captain Leacroft (62, 63, 64), and the one to
Ensign Long (vol. ii. p. 19, note), are printed from copies only.
The old material stands in a different position. Efforts have been made
to discover the original letters, and sometimes with success. But it
still remains true that, speaking generally, the printed text of the
letters published by Moore, Dallas, Leigh Hunt, and others, has not been
collated with the originals. The fact is important. Moore, who, it is
believed, destroyed not only his own letters from Byron, but also many
of those entrusted to him for the preparation of the Life,
allowed himself unusual liberties as an editor. The examples of this
licence given in Mr. Clayden's Rogers and his Contemporaries
throw suspicion on his text, even where no apparent motive exists for
his suppressions. But, as Byron's letters became more bitter in tone,
and his criticisms of his contemporaries more outspoken, Moore felt
himself more justified in omitting passages which referred to persons
who were still living in 1830. From 1816 onwards, it will be found that
he has transferred passages from one letter to another, or printed two
letters as one, and vice versâ, or made such large omissions as
to shorten letters, in some instances, by a third or even a half. No
collation with the originals has ever been attempted, and the garbled
text which Moore printed is the only text at present available for an
edition of the most important of Byron's letters. But the originals of
the majority of the letters published in the Life, from 1816 to
1824, are in the possession or control of Mr. Murray, and in his edition
they will be for the first time printed as they were written. If any
passages are omitted, the omissions will be indicated.
Besides the new letters contained in this volume, passages have been
restored from Byron's manuscript notes (Detached Thoughts, 1821).
To these have been added Sir Walter Scott's comments, collated with the
originals, and, in several instances, now for the first time published.
Appendix VII. contains a collection of the attacks made upon him in the
Tory press for February and March, 1814, which led him, for the moment,
to resolve on abandoning his literary work.
In conclusion, I wish to repeat my acknowledgment of the invaluable aid
of the National Dictionary of Biography, both in the facts which
it supplies and the sources of information which it suggests.
R. E. Prothero.
September, 1898.
Footnote 1: Also available from Project Gutenberg in text and html form.
return to footnote mark
Contents
Contents
List of Journal Entries
- November 16th, 1813
- November 17th, 1813
- November 22nd, 1813
- November 23rd, 1813
- November 24th, 1813
- 'Mezza Notte'
- November 26th, 1813
- November 27th, 1813
- November 30th, 1813
- December 1st, 1813
- December 5th, 1813
- December 6th, 1813
- December 7th, 1813
- December 10th, 1813
- December 12th, 1813
- December 13th, 1813
- December 14th, 15th, 16th, 1813
- December 17th, 18th, 1813
- January 16th, 1814
- February 18th, 1814
- February 19th, 1814
- February 20th, 1814
- February 27th, 1814
- March 6th, 1814
- March 7th, 1814
- March 10th, 1814
- March 15th, 1814
- March 17th, 1814
- March 20th, 1814
- March 22nd, 1814
- March 28th, 1814
- April 8th, 1814
- April 9th, 1814
- April 10th, 1814
- April 19th, 1814
Contents
Detailed Contents of Appendices
- Appendix VII—Attacks upon Byron in the Newspapers for February and March, 1814
-
- The Courier
-
- Lord Byron: February 1, 1814
- February 2, 1814
- February 3, 1814
- Byroniana No. 1: February 5, 1814
- Byroniana No. 2: February 8, 1814
- Byroniana No. 3: February 12, 1814
- Byroniana No. 4: February 17, 1814
- Byroniana No. 5: February 19, 1814
- March 15, 1814
- The Morning Post
-
- Verses: February 5, 1814
- To Lord Byron: February 7, 1814
- Lord Byron: February 8, 1814
- Lines: February 8, 1814
- Lines: February 11, 1814
- To Lord Byron: February 15, 1814
- To Lord Byron: February 16, 1814
- Verses Addressed To Lord Byron: February 16, 1814
- Patronage Extraordinary: February 17, 1814
- Lord Byron: February 18, 1814
- The Sun
-
- February 4, 1814
- Epigram: February 8, 1814
- Lord Byron: February 11, 1814
- Parody: February 16, 1814
Contents
August, 1811-March, 1812
Letter No. 169—to John Murray1
Newstead Abbey, Notts., August 23, 1811.
Sir,—A domestic calamity in the death of a near relation2 has
hitherto prevented my addressing you on the subject of this letter. My
friend, Mr. Dallas3, has placed in your hands a manuscript poem
written by me in Greece, which he tells me you do not object to
publishing. But he also informed me in London that you wished to send
the MS. to Mr. Gifford4. Now, though no one would feel more gratified
by the chance of obtaining his observations on a work than myself, there
is in such a proceeding a kind of petition for praise, that neither my
pride—or whatever you please to call it—will admit.
Mr. G. is not only the first satirist of the day, but editor of one of
the principal reviews. As such, he is the last man whose censure
(however eager to avoid it) I would deprecate by clandestine means. You
will therefore retain the manuscript in your own care, or, if it must
needs be shown, send it to another. Though not very patient of censure,
I would fain obtain fairly any little praise my rhymes might deserve, at
all events not by extortion, and the humble solicitations of a
bandied-about MS. I am sure a little consideration will convince you it
would be wrong.
If you determine on publication, I have some smaller poems (never
published), a few notes, and a short dissertation on the literature of
the modern Greeks (written at Athens), which will come in at the end of
the volume.— And, if the present poem should succeed, it is my
intention, at some subsequent period, to publish some selections from my
first work,—my Satire,—another nearly the same length, and a few other
things, with the MS. now in your hands, in two volumes.—But of these
hereafter. You will apprize me of your determination.
I am, Sir, your very obedient, humble servant,
Byron.
Footnote 1: For John Murray, see Letters, vol. i. p. 334,
note 1. [Footnote 1 to Letter 167]
return to footnote mark
Footnote 2: Mrs. Byron died August I, 1811.
return
Footnote 3: For R. C. Dallas, see Letters, vol. i. p. 168,
note I. [Footnote 1 to Letter 87.]
return
Footnote 4: For Gifford, the editor of the Quarterly Review, see
Letters, vol. i. p. 198, note 2. [Footnote 4 of Letter 102.]
return
List of Letters
Contents
Newstead Abbey, August 24th, 1811.
My Dear W.,—Conceiving your wrath to be somewhat evaporated, and your
Dignity recovered from the Hysterics into which my innocent note
from London had thrown it, I should feel happy to be informed how you
have determined on the disposal of this accursed Coach2, which has
driven us out of our Good humour and Good manners to a complete
Standstill, from which I begin to apprehend that I am to lose altogether
your valuable correspondence. Your angry letter arrived at a moment, to
which I shall not allude further, as my happiness is best consulted in
forgetting it3.
You have perhaps heard also of the death of poor Matthews, whom you
recollect to have met at Newstead. He was one whom his friends will find
it difficult to replace, nor will Cambridge ever see his equal.
I trust you are on the point of adding to your relatives instead of
losing them, and of friends a man of fortune will always have a
plentiful stock—at his Table.
I dare say now you are gay, and connubial, and popular, so that in the
next parliament we shall be having you a County Member. But beware your
Tutor, for I am sure he Germanized that sanguinary letter; you must not
write such another to your Constituents; for myself (as the mildest of
men) I shall say no more about it.
Seriously, mio Caro W., if you can spare a moment from Matrimony,
I shall be glad to hear that you have recovered from the pucker into
which this Vis (one would think it had been a Sulky) has
thrown you; you know I wish you well, and if I have not inflicted my
society upon you according to your own Invitation, it is only because I
am not a social animal, and should feel sadly at a loss amongst
Countesses and Maids of Honour, particularly being just come from a far
Country, where Ladies are neither carved for, or fought for, or danced
after, or mixed at all (publicly) with the Men-folks, so that you must
make allowances for my natural diffidence and two years travel.
But (God and yourself willing) I shall certes pay my promised visit, as
I shall be in town, if Parliament meets, in October.
In the mean time let me hear from you (without a privy Council), and
believe me in sober sadness,
Yours very sincerely,
Byron.
Footnote 1: James Wedderburn Webster (1789-1840), grandson of Sir A.
Wedderburn, Bart., whose third son, David, assumed the additional name
of Webster, was the author of Waterloo, and other Poems (1816),
and A Genealogical Account of the Wedderburn Family (privately
printed, 1819). He was with Byron, possibly at Cambridge, certainly at
Athens in 1810. He married, in 1810, Lady Frances Caroline Annesley,
daughter of Arthur, first Earl of Mountnorris and eighth Viscount
Valencia. He was knighted in 1822. Byron, in 1813, lent him £1000. Lady
Frances died in 1837, and her husband in 1840.
Moore (Memoirs, Journals, etc., vol. iii. p. 112) mentions dining
with Webster at Paris in 1820.
"He told me," writes Moore, "that, one day, travelling from Newstead
to town with Lord Byron in his vis-a-vis, the latter kept his pistols
beside him, and continued silent for hours, with the most ferocious
expression possible on his countenance.
'For God's sake, my dear B.,' said W—— at last, 'what are you
thinking of? Are you about to commit murder? or what other dreadful
thing are you meditating?'
To which Byron answered that he always had a sort of presentiment that
his own life would be attacked some time or other; and that this was
the reason of his always going armed, as it was also the subject of
his thoughts at that moment."
Moore also adds (ibid., p. 292),
"W. W. owes Lord Byron, he says,
£1000, and does not seem to have the slightest intention of paying him."
Lady Frances was the lady to whom Byron seriously devoted himself in
1813-4. Subsequently she was practically separated from her husband, and
Byron, in 1823, endeavoured to reconcile them. Moore (Memoirs,
Journals, etc., vol. ii. p. 249) writes,
"To the Devizes ball in the evening; Lady Frances W. there; introduced
to her, and had much conversation, chiefly about our friend Lord B.
Several of those beautiful things, published (if I remember right)
with the Bride, were addressed to her. She must have been very
pretty when she had more of the freshness of youth, though she is
still but five or six and twenty; but she looks faded already" (1819).
In the Court of Common Pleas, February 16, 1816, the libel action of
Webster v. Baldwin was heard. The plaintiff obtained £2000 in
damages for a libel charging Lady Frances and the Duke of Wellington
with adultery.
return to footnote mark
cross-reference: return to Footnote 1 of Letter 218
cross-reference: return to Footnote 12 of Journal entry for November 17th, 1813
Footnote 2: On his return to London in July, 1811, Byron ordered a
vis-a-vis to be built by Goodall. This he exchanged for a
carriage belonging to Webster, who, within a few weeks, resold the
vis-a-vis to Byron. The two following letters from Byron to
Webster explain the transaction:
"Reddish's Hotel, 29th July, 1811.
"My Dear Webster,—As this eternal vis-a-vis seems to sit heavy
on your soul, I beg leave to apprize you that I have arranged with
Goodall: you are to give me the promised Wheels, and the lining, with
'the Box at Brighton,' and I am to pay the stipulated sum.
"I am obliged to you for your favourable opinion, and trust that the
happiness you talk so much of will be stationary, and not take those
freaks to which the felicity of common mortals is subject. I do very
sincerely wish you well, and am so convinced of the justice of your
matrimonial arguments, that I shall follow your example as soon as I
can get a sufficient price for my coronet. In the mean time I should
be happy to drill for my new situation under your auspices; but
business, inexorable business, keeps me here. Your letters are
forwarded. If I can serve you in any way, command me. I will endeavour
to fulfil your requests as awkwardly as another. I shall pay you a
visit, perhaps, in the autumn. Believe me, dear W.,
Yours unintelligibly,
B."
"Reddish's Hotel, July 31st, 1811.
My Dear W. W.,—I always understood that the lining was to
accompany the carriage; if not, the carriage may
accompany the lining, for I will have neither the one nor the
other. In short, to prevent squabbling, this is my determination, so
decide;—if you leave it to my feelings (as you say) they are
very strongly in favour of the said lining. Two hundred guineas for a
carriage with ancient lining!!! Rags and rubbish! You must write
another pamphlet, my dear W., before; but pray do not waste your time
and eloquence in expostulation, because it will do neither of us any
good, but decide—content or not content. The best thing you
can do for the Tutor you speak of will be to send him in your Vis
(with the lining) to 'the U-Niversity of Göttingen.' How can you
suppose (now that my own Bear is dead) that I have any situation for a
German genius of this kind, till I get another, or some children? I am
infinitely obliged by your invitations, but I can't pay so high for a
second-hand chaise to make my friends a visit. The coronet will not
grace the 'pretty Vis,' till your tattered lining ceases to
disgrace it. Pray favour me with an answer, as we must finish
the affair one way or another immediately,—before next week.
Believe me, yours truly,
Byron."
"Byron," says Webster, in a note, "was more than strict about
"trifles."
return
Footnote 3: The death of Mrs. Byron, August 1, 1811.
return
List of Letters
Contents
171—to R. C. Dallas
Newstead Abbey, August 25, 1811.
Being fortunately enabled to frank, I do not spare scribbling, having
sent you packets within the last ten days. I am passing solitary, and do
not expect my agent to accompany me to Rochdale1 before the second
week in September; a delay which perplexes me, as I wish the business
over, and should at present welcome employment. I sent you exordiums,
annotations, etc., for the forthcoming quarto, if quarto it is to be:
and I also have written to Mr. Murray my objection to sending the MS. to
Juvenal2, but allowing him to show it to any others of the calling.
Hobhouse3 is amongst the types already: so, between his prose and my
verse, the world will be decently drawn upon for its paper-money and
patience. Besides all this, my Imitation of Horace4 is gasping
for the press at Cawthorn's, but I am hesitating as to the how and the
when, the single or the double, the present or the future. You must
excuse all this, for I have nothing to say in this lone mansion but of
myself, and yet I would willingly talk or think of aught else.
What are you about to do? Do you think of perching in Cumberland, as you
opined when I was in the metropolis? If you mean to retire, why not
occupy Miss Milbanke's "Cottage of Friendship," late the seat of Cobbler
Joe5, for whose death you and others are answerable? His "Orphan
Daughter" (pathetic Pratt!) will, certes, turn out a shoemaking Sappho.
Have you no remorse? I think that elegant address to Miss Dallas should
be inscribed on the cenotaph which Miss Milbanke means to stitch to his
memory.
The newspapers seem much disappointed at his Majesty's not dying, or
doing something better6. I presume it is almost over. If parliament
meets in October, I shall be in town to attend. I am also invited to
Cambridge for the beginning of that month, but am first to jaunt to
Rochdale. Now Matthews7 is gone, and Hobhouse in Ireland, I have
hardly one left there to bid me welcome, except my inviter. At
three-and-twenty I am left alone, and what more can we be at seventy? It
is true I am young enough to begin again, but with whom can I retrace
the laughing part of life? It is odd how few of my friends have died a
quiet death,—I mean, in their beds. But a quiet life is of more
consequence. Yet one loves squabbling and jostling better than yawning.
This last word admonishes me to relieve you from
Yours very truly, etc.
Footnote 1: For Byron's Rochdale property, which was supposed to
contain a quantity of coal, see Letters, vol. i. p. 78,
note 2. [Footnote 2 of Letter 34]
return to footnote mark
Footnote 2: Gifford.
return
Footnote 3: For John Cam Hobhouse, see Letters, vol. i. p. 163,
note 1. [Footnote 1 of Letter 86]
return
Footnote 4: The poem remained unpublished till after Byron's death.
(See note, p. 23, and Poems, ed. 1898, vol. i. pp.
385-450.)
return
Footnote 5:
"In Seaham churchyard, without any memorial," says Mr. Surtees, "rest
the remains of Joseph Blacket, an unfortunate child of genius, whose
last days were soothed by the generous attention of the family of
Milbanke."
Hist. of Durham, vol. i. p. 272. (See also Letters, vol.
i. p. 314, note 2 [Footnote 2 of Letter 154]. For Miss Milbanke, afterwards Lady Byron, see
p. 118, note 4.) [Footnote 1 of Letter 7]
return
cross-reference: return to Footnote 1 of Letter 235
Footnote 6: On July 28, 1811, Lord Grenville wrote to Lord Auckland,
"It is, I believe, certainly true that the King has taken for the last
three days scarcely any food at all, and that, unless a change takes
place very shortly in that respect, he cannot survive many days"
(Auckland Correspondence, vol. iv. p. 366).
It was, however, the
mind, and not the physical strength that failed.
"The King, I should suppose," wrote Lord Buckinghamshire, on August
13, "is not likely to die soon, but I fear his mental recovery is
hardly to be expected "
(ibid., vol. iv. p. 367).
George III. never, except for brief
intervals, recovered his reason.
return
Footnote 7: For C. S. Matthews, see Letters, vol. i. p. 150,
note 3.[Footnote 2 of Letter 84]
return
List of Letters
Contents
Newstead Abbey, Aug. 27, 1811.
I was so sincere in my note on the late Charles Matthews, and do feel
myself so totally unable to do justice to his talents, that the passage
must stand for the very reason you bring against it. To him all the men
I ever knew were pigmies. He was an intellectual giant. It is true I
loved Wingfield2 better; he was the earliest and the dearest, and one
of the few one could never repent of having loved: but in ability—ah!
you did not know Matthews!
Childe Harold may wait and welcome—books are never the worse for
delay in the publication. So you have got our heir, George Anson Byron3, and his
sister, with you.
You may say what you please, but you are one of the murderers of
Blackett, and yet you won't allow Harry White's genius4.
Setting aside his bigotry, he surely ranks next Chatterton. It is
astonishing how little he was known; and at Cambridge no one thought or
heard of such a man till his death rendered all notice useless. For my
own part, I should have been most proud of such an acquaintance: his
very prejudices were respectable. There is a sucking epic poet at
Granta, a Mr. Townsend5, protégé of the late Cumberland. Did
you ever hear of him and his Armageddon? I think his plan (the
man I don't know) borders on the sublime: though, perhaps, the
anticipation of the "Last Day" (according to you Nazarenes) is a little
too daring: at least, it looks like telling the Lord what he is to do,
and might remind an ill-natured person of the line,
"And fools rush in where angels fear to tread."
But I don't mean to cavil, only other folks will, and he may bring all
the lambs of Jacob Behmen about his ears. However, I hope he will bring
it to a conclusion, though Milton is in his way.
Write to me—I dote on gossip—and make a bow to Ju—, and shake George
by the hand for me; but, take care, for he has a sad sea paw.
P.S.—I would ask George here, but I don't know how to amuse him—all my
horses were sold when I left England, and I have not had time to replace
them. Nevertheless, if he will come down and shoot in September, he will
be very welcome: but he must bring a gun, for I gave away all mine to
Ali Pacha, and other Turks. Dogs, a keeper, and plenty of game, with a
very large manor, I have—a lake, a boat, houseroom, and neat
wines.
Footnote 1: Dallas, writing to Byron, August 18, 1811, had said,
"I have been reading the Remains of Kirke White, and find that
you have to answer for misleading me. He does not, in my opinion,
merit the high praise you have bestowed upon him."
Writing again, August 26, he objected to the note on Matthews in
Childe Harold:
"In your note, as it stands, it strikes me that the eulogy on Matthews
is a little at the expense of Wingfield and others whom you
have commemorated. I should think it quite enough to say that
his Powers and Attainments were above all praise, without expressly
admitting them to be above that of a Muse who soars high in the praise
of others."
return to footnote mark
Footnote 2: For Wingfield, see Letters, vol. i, p. 180,
note 1. [Footnote 2 of Letter 92]
return
Footnote 3: For George Anson Byron, afterwards Lord Byron, and his sister
Julia, see Letters, vol. i, p. 188, note 1. [Footnote 1 of Letter 96]
return
Footnote 4: For H. K. White, see Letters, vol. i, p. 336,
note 2. [Footnote 3 of Letter 167]
return
Footnote 5: The Rev. George Townsend (1788-1857) of Trinity College,
Cambridge, published Poems in 1810, and eight books of his
Armageddon in 1815. The remaining four books were never
published. Townsend became a Canon of Durham in 1825, and held the stall
till his death in 1857. Richard Cumberland, dramatist, novelist, and
essayist (1732-1811), the "Sir Fretful Plagiary" of The Critic,
announced the forthcoming poem in the London Review; but, as
Townsend says, in the Preface to Armageddon, praised him "too
abundantly and prematurely." "My talents," he adds, "were neither equal
to my own ambition, nor his zeal to serve me." (See Hints from
Horace, lines 191-212, and Byron's note to line 191,
Poems, ed. 1898, vol. i. p. 403.)
return
List of Letters
Contents
Newstead Abbey, August 30th, 1811.
My Dear Augusta,—The embarrassments you mention in your last letter I
never heard of before, but that disease is epidemic in our family.
Neither have I been apprised of any of the changes at which you hint,
indeed how should I? On the borders of the Black Sea, we heard only of
the Russians. So you have much to tell, and all will be novelty.
I don't know what Scrope Davies2 meant by telling you I liked
Children, I abominate the sight of them so much that I have always had
the greatest respect for the character of Herod. But, as my house here
is large enough for us all, we should go on very well, and I need not
tell you that I long to see you. I really do not perceive any
thing so formidable in a Journey hither of two days, but all this comes
of Matrimony, you have a Nurse and all the etceteras of a family. Well,
I must marry to repair the ravages of myself and prodigal ancestry, but
if I am ever so unfortunate as to be presented with an Heir, instead of
a Rattle he shall be provided with a Gag.
I shall perhaps be able to accept D's invitation to Cambridge, but I
fear my stay in Lancashire will be prolonged, I proceed there in the 2d
week in Septr to arrange my coal concerns, & then if I can't persuade
some wealthy dowdy to ennoble the dirty puddle of her mercantile
Blood,—why—I shall leave England and all it's clouds for the East
again; I am very sick of it already. Joe3 has been getting well
of a disease that would have killed a troop of horse; he promises to
bear away the palm of longevity from old Parr. As you won't come, you
will write; I long to hear all those unutterable things, being utterly
unable to guess at any of them, unless they concern your relative
the Thane of Carlisle4, though I had great hopes we had done with
him.
I have little to add that you do not already know, and being quite
alone, have no great variety of incident to gossip with; I am but rarely
pestered with visiters, and the few I have I get rid of as soon as
possible. I will now take leave of you in the Jargon of 1794. "Health &
Fraternity!"
Yours alway, B.
Footnote 1: For the Hon. Augusta Leigh, see Letters, vol. i. p.
18, note 1. [Footnote 1 of Letter 7] Byron's letter is in answer to the following from his
half-sister:
"6 Mile Bottom, Aug. 27th.
"My Dearest Brother,—Your letter was stupidly sent to Town to me on
Sunday, from whence I arrived at home yesterday; consequently I have
not received it so soon as I ought to have done. I feel so very happy
to have the pleasure of hearing from you that I will not delay a
moment answering it, altho' I am in all the delights of
unpacking, and afraid of being too late for the Post.
"I have been a fortnight in Town, and went up on my eldest
little girl's account. She had been very unwell for some time, and I
could not feel happy till I had better advice than this neighbourhood
affords. She is, thank Heaven! much better, and I hope in a fair way
to be quite herself again. Mr. Davies flattered me by saying
she was exactly the sort of child you would delight in. I am
determined not to say another word in her praise for fear you should
accuse me of partiality and expect too much. The youngest
(little Augusta) is just 6 months old, and has no particular
merit at present but a very sweet placid temper.
"Oh! that I could immediately set out to Newstead and shew them to
you. I can't tell you half the happiness it would give me to
see it and you; but, my dearest B., it is a long journey and
serious undertaking all things considered. Mr. Davies writes me word
you promise to make him a visit bye and bye; pray do, you can
then so easily come here. I have set my heart upon it. Consider how
very long it is since I've seen you.
"I have indeed much to tell you; but it is more easily
said than written. Probably you have heard of many
changes in our situation since you left England; in a pecuniary
point of view it is materially altered for the worse; perhaps in other
respects better. Col. Leigh has been in Dorsetshire and Sussex during
my stay in Town. I expect him at home towards the end of this week,
and hope to make him acquainted with you ere long.
"I have not time to write half I have to say, for my letter must go;
but I prefer writing in a hurry to not writing at all. You can't think
how much I feel for your griefs and losses, or how much and constantly
I have thought of you lately. I began a letter to you in Town, but
destroyed it, from the fear of appearing troublesome. There are times,
I know, when one cannot write with any degree of comfort or
satisfaction. I intend to do so again shortly, so I hope yon won't
think me a bore.
Remember me most kindly to Old Joe. I rejoice to hear of his health
and prosperity. Your letter (some parts of it at least) made me laugh.
I am so very glad to hear you have sufficiently overcome your
prejudices against the fair sex to have determined upon
marrying; but I shall be most anxious that my future Belle
Soeur should have more attractions than merely money, though to be
sure that is somewhat necessary. I have not another moment,
dearest B., so forgive me if I write again very soon, and believe me,
Your most affec'tn Sister, A. L.
Do write if you can."
return to footnote mark
Footnote 2: For Scrope Berdmore Davies, see Letters, vol. i. p.
165, note 2. [Footnote 2 of Letter 86] The following story is told of him by Byron, in a
passage of his Detached Thoughts (Ravenna, 1821):
"One night Scrope Davies at a Gaming house (before I was of age), being
tipsy as he usually was at the Midnight hour, and having lost monies,
was in vain intreated by his friends, one degree less intoxicated than
himself, to come or go home. In despair, he was left to himself and to
the demons of the dice-box.
Next day, being visited about two of the Clock, by some friends just
risen with a severe headache and empty pockets (who had left him losing
at four or five in the morning), he was found in a sound sleep, without
a night-cap, and not particularly encumbered with bed-cloathes: a
Chamber-pot stood by his bed-side, brim-full of—-Bank Notes!,
all won, God knows how, and crammed, Scrope knew not where; but There
they were, all good legitimate notes, and to the amount of some thousand
pounds."
return
Footnote 3: For Joe Murray, see Letters, vol. i. p. 21,
note 3. [Footnote 4 of Letter 7]
return
Footnote 4: For the Earl of Carlisle, see Letters, vol. i. p.
36, note 2. [Footnote 3 of Letter 13]
return
List of Letters
Contents
174—To the Hon. Augusta Leigh
Newstead Abbey, Aug'st 30th, 1811.
My Dear Augusta,—I wrote to you yesterday, and as you will not be very
sorry to hear from me again, considering our long separation, I shall
fill up this sheet before I go to bed. I have heard something of a
quarrel between your spouse and the Prince, I don't wish to pry into
family secrets or to hear anything more of the matter, but I can't help
regretting on your account that so long an intimacy should be dissolved
at the very moment when your husband might have derived some advantage
from his R. H.'s friendship. However, at all events, and in all
Situations, you have a brother in me, and a home here.
I am led into this train of thinking by a part of your letter which
hints at pecuniary losses. I know how delicate one ought to be on such
subjects, but you are probably the only being on Earth now
interested in my welfare, certainly the only relative, and I should be
very ungrateful if I did not feel the obligation. You must excuse my
being a little cynical, knowing how my temper was tried in my
Non-age; the manner in which I was brought up must necessarily have
broken a meek Spirit, or rendered a fiery one ungovernable; the effect
it has had on mine I need not state.
However, buffeting with the World has brought me a little to reason, and
two years travel in distant and barbarous countries has accustomed me to
bear privations, and consequently to laugh at many things which would
have made me angry before. But I am wandering —in short I only want to
assure you that I love you, and that you must not think I am
indifferent, because I don't shew my affection in the usual way.
Pray can't you contrive to pay me a visit between this and Xmas? or
shall I carry you down with me from Cambridge, supposing it practicable
for me to come? You will do what you please, without our interfering
with each other; the premises are so delightfully extensive, that two
people might live together without ever seeing, hearing or meeting,—but
I can't feel the comfort of this till I marry. In short it would be the
most amiable matrimonial mansion, and that is another great inducement
to my plan,—my wife and I shall be so happy,—one in each Wing. If this
description won't make you come, I can't tell what will, you must please
yourself. Good night, I have to walk half a mile to my Bed chamber.
Yours ever, Byron.
List of Letters<
Contents/p>
175—To James Wedderburn Webster
Newstead Abbey, Notts., Aug'st 31st, 1811.
My Dear W.,—I send you back your friend's letter, and, though I don't
agree with his Canons of Criticism, they are not the worse for that. My
friend Hodgson1 is not much honoured by the comparison to the
Pursuits of L., which is notoriously, as far as the poetry
goes, the worst written of its kind; the World has been long but of one
opinion, viz. that it's sole merit lies in the Notes, which are
indisputably excellent.
Had Hodgson's "Alterative" been placed with the Baviad the
compliment had been higher to both; for, surely, the Baviad is as
much superior to H.'s poem, as I do firmly believe H.'s poem to be to
the Pursuits of Literature.
Your correspondent talks for talking's sake when he says "Lady J. Grey"
is neither "Epic, dramatic, or legendary." Who ever said it was "epic"
or "dramatic"? he might as well say his letter was neither "epic or
dramatic;" the poem makes no pretensions to either character.
"Legendary" it certainly is, but what has that to do with its merits?
All stories of that kind founded on facts are in a certain degree
legendary, but they may be well or ill written without the smallest
alteration in that respect. When Mr. Hare prattles about the "Economy,"
etc., he sinks sadly;—all such expressions are the mere cant of a
schoolboy hovering round the Skirts of Criticism.
Hodgson's tale is one of the best efforts of his Muse, and Mr. H.'s
approbation must be of more consequence, before any body will reduce it
to a "Scale," or be much affected by "the place" he "assigns" to the
productions of a man like Hodgson.
But I have said more than I intended and only beg you never to allow
yourself to be imposed upon by such "common place" as the 6th form
letter you sent me. Judge for yourself.
I know the Mr. Bankes2 you mention though not to that "extreme" you
seem to think, but I am flattered by his "boasting" on such a subject
(as you say), for I never thought him likely to "boast" of any thing
which was not his own. I am not "melancholish"—pray what
"folk" dare to say any such thing? I must contradict them by
being merry at their expence.
I shall invade you in the course of the winter, out of envy, as Lucifer
looked at Adam and Eve.
Pray be as happy as you can, and write to me that I may catch the
infection.
Yours ever, Byron.
Footnote 1: Webster had sent Byron a letter from Naylor Hare, in which
the latter criticized Hodgson's poems, Lady Jane Grey, a Tale; and
other Poems (1809) (see Letters, vol. i. p. 195, note
1 [Footnote 1 of Letter 102]).
In the volume (pp. 56-77) was printed his "Gentle Alterative
prepared for the Reviewers," which Hare apparently compared to The
Pursuits of Literature (1794-97), by T. J. Mathias.
To this
criticism Byron objected, saying that the "Alterative" might be more
fairly compared to Gifford's Baviad (1794).
return to footnote mark
Footnote 2: For William John Bankes, see Letters, vol. i. p.
120, note 1. [Footnote 1 of Letter 67]
return
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Contents
Newstead Abbey, Sept. 2d, 1811.
My dear Augusta,—I wrote you a vastly dutiful letter since my answer to
your second epistle, and I now write you a third, for which you have to
thank Silence and Solitude. Mr. Hanson2 comes hither on the 14th, and
I am going to Rochdale on business, but that need not prevent you from
coming here, you will find Joe, and the house and the cellar and all
therein very much at your Service.
As to Lady B., when I discover one rich enough to suit me and foolish
enough to have me, I will give her leave to make me miserable if she
can. Money is the magnet; as to Women, one is as well as another, the
older the better, we have then a chance of getting her to Heaven. So,
your Spouse does not like brats better than myself; now those who beget
them have no right to find fault, but I may rail with great
propriety.
My "Satire!"—I am glad it made you laugh for Somebody told me in Greece
that you was angry, and I was sorry, as you were perhaps the only person
whom I did not want to make angry.
But how you will make me laugh I don't know, for it is a vastly
serious subject to me I assure you; therefore take care, or I
shall hitch you into the next Edition to make up our family
party. Nothing so fretful, so despicable as a Scribbler, see what
I am, and what a parcel of Scoundrels I have brought about my
ears, and what language I have been obliged to treat them with to deal
with them in their own way;—all this comes of Authorship, but now I am
in for it, and shall be at war with Grubstreet, till I find some better
amusement.
You will write to me your Intentions and may almost depend on my being
at Cambridge in October. You say you mean to be etc. in the
Autumn; I should be glad to know what you call this present
Season, it would be Winter in every other Country which I have seen. If
we meet in October we will travel in my Vis. and can have a cage
for the children and a cart for the Nurse. Or perhaps we can forward
them by the Canal. Do let us know all about it, your "bright
thought" is a little clouded, like the Moon in this preposterous
climate.
Good even, Child.
Yours ever, B.
Footnote 1: The following is Mrs. Leigh's letter, to which the above is
an answer:
"6 Mile Bottom, Saturday, 31 Aug.
My dearest brother,—I hope you don't dislike receiving letters so
much as writing them, for you would in that case pronounce me a great
torment. But as I prepared you in my last for its being followed very
soon by another, I hope you will have reconciled your mind to the
impending toil. I really wrote in such a hurry that I did not say half
I wished; but I did not like to delay telling you how happy you made
me by writing. I have been dwelling constantly upon the idea of going
to Newstead ever since I had your wish to see me there. At last a
bright thought struck me.
We intend, I believe, to go to Yorkshire in the autumn. Now, if I
could contrive to pay you a visit en passant, it would be
delightful, and give me the greatest pleasure. But I fear you would be
obliged to make up your mind to receive my Brats too. As for my
husband, he prefers the outside of the Mail to the inside of
a Post-Chaise, particularly when partly occupied by Nurse and
Children, so that we always travel independent of each other.
So much for this, my dear B. I can only say I should much like
to see you at Newstead. The former I hope I shall at all events, as
you must not be shabby, but come to Cambridge as you promised. Are you
staying at Newstead now for any time? I saw George Byron in Town for
one day, and he promised to call or write again, but has not done
either, so I begin to think he has gone back to Lisbon. I think it is
impossible not to like him; he is so good-natured and natural. We
talked much of you; he told me you were grown very thin; as you don't
complain, I hope you are not the worse for being so, and I remember
you used to wish it. Don't you think it a great shame that
George B. is not promoted? I wish there was any possibility of
assisting him about it; but all I know who could do any good
with you present Ministers, I don't for many reasons like to
ask. Perhaps there may be a change bye and bye.
Fred Howard is married to Miss Lambton. I saw them in town in
their way to Castle Howard. I hope he will be happy with all my heart;
his kindness and friendship to us last year, when Col. Leigh
was placed in one of the most perplexing situations that I think
anybody could be in, is never to be forgotten. I think he used to be a
greater favourite with you than some others of his family. Mrs.
F.H. is very pretty, very young (not quite 17), and appears
gentle and pleasing, which is all one can expect [to discover from] a
very slight acquaintance.
Now, my dearest Byron, pray let me hear from you. I shall be daily
expecting to hear of a Lady Byron, since you have confided to
me your determination of marrying, in which I really hope you are
serious, being convinced such an event would contribute greatly to
your happiness, provided her Ladyship was the sort of person
that would suit you; and you won't be angry with me for saying that it
is not every one who would; therefore don't be too
precipitate. You will wish me hanged, I fear, for boring
you so unmercifully, so God bless you, my dearest Bro.; and, when you
have time, do write. Are you going to amuse us with any more
Satires? Oh, English Bards! I shall make you laugh (when
we meet) about it.
Ever your most affectionate Sis. and Friend,
A.L.
return to footnote mark
Footnote 2: For John Hanson, see Letters, vol. i. p. 8, note 2. [Footnote 1 of Letter 3]
return
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Contents
Newstead Abbey, Sept. 3, 1811.
My Dear Hodgson,—I will have nothing to do with your immortality1;
we are miserable enough in this life, without the absurdity of
speculating upon another. If men are to live, why die at all? and if
they die, why disturb the sweet and sound sleep that "knows no waking"?
"Post Mortem nihil est, ipsaque Mors nihil ... quæris quo jaceas post
obitum loco? Quo non Nata jacent."2
As to revealed religion, Christ came to save men; but a good Pagan will
go to heaven, and a bad Nazarene to hell; "Argal" (I argue like the
gravedigger) why are not all men Christians? or why are any? If mankind
may be saved who never heard or dreamt, at Timbuctoo, Otaheite, Terra
Incognita, etc., of Galilee and its Prophet, Christianity is of no
avail: if they cannot be saved without, why are not all orthodox? It is
a little hard to send a man preaching to Judæa, and leave the rest of
the world—Negers and what not—dark as their complexions,
without a ray of light for so many years to lead them on high; and who
will believe that God will damn men for not knowing what they were never
taught? I hope I am sincere; I was so at least on a bed of sickness in a
far-distant country, when I had neither friend, nor comforter, nor hope,
to sustain me. I looked to death as a relief from pain, without a wish
for an after-life, but a confidence that the God who punishes in this
existence had left that last asylum for the weary.
I am no Platonist, I am nothing at all; but I would sooner be a
Paulician, Manichean, Spinozist, Gentile, Pyrrhonian, Zoroastrian, than
one of the seventy-two villainous sects who are tearing each other to
pieces for the love of the Lord and hatred of each other. Talk of
Galileeism? Show me the effects—are you better, wiser, kinder by your
precepts? I will bring you ten Mussulmans shall shame you in all
goodwill towards men, prayer to God, and duty to their neighbours. And
is there a Talapoin4, or a Bonze, who is not superior to a
fox-hunting curate? But I will say no more on this endless theme; let me
live, well if possible, and die without pain. The rest is with God, who
assuredly, had He come or sent, would have made Himself
manifest to nations, and intelligible to all.
I shall rejoice to see you. My present intention is to accept Scrope
Davies's invitation; and then, if you accept mine, we shall meet
here and there. Did you know poor Matthews? I shall miss
him much at Cambridge.
Footnote 1: The religious discussion arose out of the opening stanzas
of Childe Harold, Canto II., which Hodgson was helping to correct
for the press.
Byron's opinions were not newly formed, as is shown by the following
letter to Ensign Long (see Letters, vol. i. p. 73, note
2 [Footnote 2 of Letter 31]), which reached the Editor too late for insertion in its proper
place:
Southwell, Ap: 16th, 1807.
"Your Epistle, my dear Standard Bearer, augurs not much in favour of
your new life, particularly the latter part, where you say your
happiest Days are over. I most sincerely hope not. The past has
certainly in some parts been pleasant, but I trust will be equalled,
if not exceeded by the future. You hope it is not so with me.
"To be plain with Regard to myself. Nature stampt me in the Die of
Indifference. I consider myself as destined never to be happy,
although in some instances fortunate. I am an isolated Being on the
Earth, without a Tie to attach me to life, except a few
School-fellows, and a score of females. Let me but 'hear my
fame on the winds' and the song of the Bards in my Norman house, I ask
no more and don't expect so much. Of Religion I know nothing, at least
in its favour. We have fools in all sects and Impostors
in most; why should I believe mysteries no one understands, because
written by men who chose to mistake madness for Inspiration, and style
themselves Evangelicals? However enough on this subject. Your
piety will be aghast, and I wish for no proselytes. This
much I will venture to affirm, that all the virtues and pious
Deeds performed on Earth can never entitle a man to Everlasting
happiness in a future State; nor on the other hand can such a Scene as
a Seat of eternal punishment exist, it is incompatible with the benign
attributes of a Deity to suppose so.
"I am surrounded here by parsons and methodists, but, as you will
see, not infected with the mania. I have lived a Deist, what I
shall die I know not; however, come what may, ridens moriar.
"Nothing detains me here but the publication, which will not be
complete till June. About 20 of the present pieces will be cut out,
and a number of new things added. Amongst them a complete Episode of
Nisus and Euryalus from Virgil, some Odes from Anacreon, and several
original Odes, the whole will cover 170 pages. My last production has
been a poem in imitation of Ossian, which I shall not publish, having
enough without it. Many of the present poems are enlarged and altered,
in short you will behold an 'Old friend with a new face.' Were I to
publish all I have written in Rhyme, I should fill a decent Quarto;
however, half is quite enough at present. You shall have all
when we meet.
"I grow thin daily; since the commencement of my System I have lost 23
lbs. in my weight (i.e.) 1 st. and 9 lbs. When I began I
weighed 14 st. 6 lbs., and on Tuesday I found myself reduced to 12 st.
11 lb. What sayest thou, Ned? do you not envy? I shall still proceed
till I arrive at 12 st. and then stop, at least if I am not too fat,
but shall always live temperately and take much exercise.
"If there is a possibility we shall meet in June. I shall be in Town,
before I proceed to Granta, and if the 'mountain will not come to
Mahomet, Mahomet will go to the mountain.' I don't mean, by comparing
you to the mountain, to insinuate anything on the Subject of your
Size. Xerxes, it is said, formed Mount Athos into the Shape of a
Woman; had he lived now, and taken a peep at Chatham, he would have
spared himself the trouble and made it unnecessary by finding a
Hill ready cut to his wishes.
"Adieu, dear Mont Blanc, or rather Mont Rouge; don't, for
Heaven's sake, turn Volcanic, at least roll the Lava of your
indignation in any other Channel, and not consume Your's ever,
Byron.
"Write Immediately."
cross-reference: return to Preface
Byron lived to modify these opinions, as is shown by the following
passages from his Detached Thoughts:
"If I were to live over again, I do not know what I would change in my
life, unless it were for—not to have lived at all. All history
and experience, and the rest, teaches us that the good and evil are
pretty equally balanced in this existence, and that what is most to be
desired is an easy passage out of it. What can it give us but years?
and those have little of good but their ending.
"Of the immortality of the soul it appears to me that there can be
little doubt, if we attend for a moment to the action of mind; it is
in perpetual activity. I used to doubt of it, but reflection has
taught me better. It acts also so very independent of body—in dreams,
for instance;—incoherently and madly, I grant you, but still
it is mind, and much more mind than when we are awake. Now that this
should not act separately, as well as jointly, who can
pronounce? The stoics, Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius, call the present
state 'a soul which drags a carcass,'—a heavy chain, to be sure; but
all chains being material may be shaken off. How far our future life
will be individual, or, rather, how far it will at all resemble
our present existence, is another question; but that the mind
is eternal seems as probable as that the body is not so. Of course I
here venture upon the question without recurring to Revelation, which,
however, is at least as rational a solution of it as any other. A
material resurrection seems strange, and even absurd, except
for purposes of punishment; and all punishment which is to
revenge rather than correct must be morally
wrong; and when the world is at an end, what moral or
warning purpose can eternal tortures answer? Human passions
have probably disfigured the divine doctrines here;—but the whole
thing is inscrutable."
"It is useless to tell me not to reason, but to
believe. You might as well tell a man not to wake, but
sleep. And then to bully with torments, and all that! I
cannot help thinking that the menace of hell makes as many
devils as the severe penal codes of inhuman humanity make villains."
"Man is born passionate of body, but with an innate though
secret tendency to the love of good in his main-spring of mind. But,
God help us all! it is at present a sad jar of atoms."
return to footnote mark
Footnote 2: The lines are quoted from Seneca's Troades (act ii.
et seqq.):
"Post mortem nihil est, ipsaque mors nihil.
........
........
Quæris, quo jaceas post obitum loco?
Quo non nata jacent."
return
Footnote 3: The sentiment is found in one of the 
of Menander (Menandri et Philemonis reliquiæ, edidit Augustus Meineke, p. 48). It is thus quoted by Stobæus (Florilegium, cxx. 8) as an iambic:
In the Comicorum Græcorum Sententiæ, id est 
(p. 219, ed, Henricus Stephanus, MDLXIX.) it is quoted as a leonine verse:
Plautus gives it thus (Bacchides, iv. 7):
"Quem di diligunt adolescens moritur."
return
Footnote 4: The word is said to be illegible, and the conclusion of the
letter to be lost (Memoir of the Rev. Francis Hodgson, vol. i. p.
196). Only the latter statement is correct. The word is perfectly
legible. Talapoin (Yule's Glossary of Anglo-Indian Words, sub
voce) is the name used by the Portuguese, and after them by the
French writers, and by English travellers of the seventeenth century
(Hakluyt, ed. 1807, vol. ii. p. 93; and Purchas, ed. 1645, vol. ii. p.
1747), to designate the Buddhist monks of Ceylon and the Indo-Chinese
countries. Pallegoix (Description du Royaume Thai ou Siam, vol.
ii. p. 23) says,
"Les Européens les ont appelés talapoins, probablement du nom
de l'éventail qu'ils tiennent à la main, lequel s'appelle
talapat, qui signifie feuille de palmier."
Possibly Byron knew the word through Voltaire (Dial. xxii.,
André des Couches à Siam);
| "A. des C.: |
Combien avez-vous de soldats? |
| Croutef.: |
Quatre-vingt mille, fort médiocrement payés. |
| A. des C.: |
Et de talapoins? |
| Cr.: |
Cent vingt-mille, tous fainéans et trés riches," etc. |
return
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Contents
Newstead Abbey, September 4th, 1811.
My dear Sir,—I am at present anxious, as Cawthorn seems to wish it, to
have a small edition of the Hints from Horace1 published
immediately, but the Latin (the most difficult poem in the language)
renders it necessary to be very particular not only in correcting the
proofs with Horace open, but in adapting the parallel passages of the
imitation in such places to the original as may enable the reader not to
lose sight of the allusion. I don't know whether I ought to ask you to
do this, but I am too far off to do it for myself; and if you condescend
to my school-boy erudition, you will oblige me by setting this thing
going, though you will smile at the importance I attach to it.
Believe me, ever yours,
Byron.
Footnote 1: Hints from Horace, written during Byron's second
stay at Athens, March 11-14, 1811, and subsequently added to, had been
placed in the hands of Cawthorn, the publisher of English Bards, and
Scotch Reviewers, for publication. Byron afterwards changed his
mind, and the poem remained unpublished till after his death.
The following letter from Cawthorn shows that considerable progress had
been made with the printing of the poem, and that Byron also
contemplated another edition of English Bards, and Scotch
Reviewers. The advice of his friends led him to abandon both plans;
but his letter to Cawthorn, printed below, is evidence that in September
he was still at work on Hints from Horace:
"24, Cockspur Street, Aug. 22'd, 1811.
"My Lord,—Mr. Green the Amanuensis has finished the Latin of the
Horace, and I shall be happy to do with it as your Lordship may
direct, either to forward it to Newstead, or keep it in Town. Would it
not be better to print a small edition seperate (sic), and
afterwards print the two satires together? This I leave to your
Lordship's consideration. Four Sheets of the Travels are
already printed, and one of the plates (Albanian Solain) is executed.
I sent it Capt. H[obhouse] yesterday to Cork, to see if it meets his
approbation. The work is printed in quarto, for which I may be in some
measure indebted to your Lordship, as I urged it so strongly. I shall
be extremely sorry if Capt. H. is not pleased with it, but I think he
will. Your Lordship's goodness will excuse me for saying how much the
very sudden and melancholy events that have lately transpired—I
regret—Capt. Hobhouse has written me since the decease of Mr.
Mathews. I am told Capt. H. is very much affected at it. I have
received some drawings of costumes from him, which I am to deliver to your Lordship. Is it
likely we shall see your Lordship in Town soon?
"I have the honour to be your Lordship's
"Most respectful and greatly obliged Servt.,
"James Cawthorn.
"If a small edition is printed of 'Horace' for the first"
[words erased] "that, and I think in all probability the 'E.
Bards' will want reprinting about March next, when both could be
done together. Do not think me too sanguine."
A few days later, Byron writes to Cawthom as follows:
"Newstead Abbey, September 4th, 1811.
"More notes for the 'Hints'! You mistake me much by thinking me
inattentive to this publication. If I had a friend willing and able to
correct the press, it should be out with my good will immediately.
Pray attend to annexing additional notes in their proper places, and
let them be added immediately.
"Yours, etc.,
"Byron."
return
cross-reference: return to Footnote 1 of Letter 231
List of Letters
Contents
Newstead Abbey, Notts., Sept. 5, 1811.
Sir,—The time seems to be past when (as Dr. Johnson said) a man was
certain to "hear the truth from his bookseller," for you have paid me
so many compliments, that, if I was not the veriest scribbler on earth,
I should feel affronted. As I accept your compliments, it is but fair I
should give equal or greater credit to your objections, the more so as I
believe them to be well founded. With regard to the political and
metaphysical parts, I am afraid I can alter nothing; but I have high
authority for my Errors in that point, for even the Æneid was a
political poem, and written for a political purpose; and
as to my unlucky opinions on Subjects of more importance, I am too
sincere in them for recantation. On Spanish affairs I have said what I
saw, and every day confirms me in that notion of the result formed on
the Spot; and I rather think honest John Bull is beginning to come round
again to that Sobriety which Massena's retreat2 had begun to reel
from its centre—the usual consequence of unusual success. So you
perceive I cannot alter the Sentiments; but if there are any alterations
in the structure of the versification you would wish to be made, I will
tag rhymes and turn stanzas as much as you please. As for the
"Orthodox," let us hope they will buy, on purpose to abuse—you
will forgive the one, if they will do the other. You are aware that any
thing from my pen must expect no quarter, on many accounts; and as the
present publication is of a nature very different from the former, we
must not be sanguine.
You have given me no answer to my question—tell me fairly, did you show
the MS. to some of your corps3?
I sent an introductory stanza to Mr. Dallas, that it might be
forwarded to you; the poem else will open too abruptly. The Stanzas had
better be numbered in Roman characters, there is a disquisition on the
literature of the modern Greeks, and some smaller poems to come in at
the close. These are now at Newstead, but will be sent in time. If Mr.
D. has lost the Stanza and note annexed to it, write, and I will send it
myself.—You tell me to add two cantos, but I am about to visit my
Collieries in Lancashire on the 15th instant, which is so
unpoetical an employment that I need say no more.
I am, sir, your most obedient, etc., etc.,
Byron.
Footnote 1: The following is Murray's letter, to which Byron replies:
"London, Sept. 4, 1811, Wednesday.
"My Lord,—An absence of some days, passed in the country, has
prevented me from writing earlier in answer to your obliging letter. I
have now, however, the pleasure of sending under a separate cover, the
first proof sheet of your Lordship's Poem, which is so good as
to be entitled to all your care to render perfect. Besides its general
merit, there are parts, which, I am tempted to believe, far excel
anything that your Lordship has hitherto published, and it were
therefore grievous indeed, if you do not condescend to bestow upon it
all the improvement of which your Lordship's mind is so capable; every
correction already made is valuable, and this circumstance renders me
more confident in soliciting for it your further attention.
"There are some expressions, too, concerning Spain and Portugal,
which, however just, and particularly so at the time they were
conceived, yet as they do not harmonize with the general feeling,
would so greatly interfere with the popularity which the poem is, in
other respects, so certainly calculated to excite, that, in compassion
to your publisher, who does not presume to reason upon the subject,
otherwise than as a mere matter of business, I hope your Lordship's
goodness will induce you to obviate them, and, with them, perhaps,
some religious feelings which may deprive me of some customers amongst
the Orthodox.
"Could I flatter myself that these suggestions were not obtrusive, I
would hazard another, in an earnest solicitation that your Lordship
would add the two promised Cantos, and complete the Poem. It
were cruel indeed not to perfect a work which contains so much that is
excellent; your Fame, my Lord, demands it; you are raising a Monument
that will outlive your present feelings, and it should therefore be so
constructed as to excite no other associations than those of respect
and admiration for your Lordship's Character and Genius.
"I trust that you will pardon the warmth of this address when I assure
your Lordship that it arises, in the greatest degree, in a sincere
regard for your lasting reputation, with, however, some view to that
portion of it, which must attend the Publisher of so beautiful a Poem,
as your Lordship is capable of rendering
"The Romaunt of Childe Harold.
"I have the honour to be, My Lord,
"Your Lordship's
"Obedient and faithful servant,
"John Murray."
return
Footnote 2: On the night of March 5, 1811, Massena retreated from his
camp at Santarem, whence he had watched Wellington at Torres Vedras, and
on April 4 he crossed the Coa into Spain.
return
Footnote 3: Murray had shown the MS. to Gifford for advice as to its
publication. Byron seems to have resented this on the ground that it
might look like an attempt to propitiate the Quarterly Review.
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Contents
180—to R. C. Dallas
Newstead Abbey, September 7, 1811.
As Gifford has been ever my "Magnus Apollo," any approbation, such as
you mention, would, of course, be more welcome than "all Bocara's
vaunted gold", than all "the gems of Samarcand."1 But I am sorry the
MS. was shown to him in such a manner, and had written to Murray to say
as much, before I was aware that it was too late.
Your objection to the expression "central line" I can only meet by
saying that, before Childe Harold left England, it was his full
intention to traverse Persia, and return by India, which he could not
have done without passing the equinoctial.
The other errors you mention, I must correct in the progress through the
press. I feel honoured by the wish of such men that the poem should be
continued, but to do that I must return to Greece and Asia; I must have
a warm sun, a blue sky; I cannot describe scenes so dear to me by a
sea-coal fire. I had projected an additional canto when I was in the
Troad and Constantinople, and if I saw them again, it would go on; but
under existing circumstances and sensations, I have neither harp,
"heart, nor voice" to proceed, I feel that you are all right as
to the metaphysical part; but I also feel that I am sincere, and that if
I am only to write "ad captandum vulgus," I might as well edit a
magazine at once, or spin canzonettas for Vauxhall2.
My work must make its way as well as it can; I know I have every thing
against me, angry poets and prejudices; but if the poem is a
poem, it will surmount these obstacles, and if not, it
deserves its fate. Your friend's Ode3 I have read—it is no great
compliment to pronounce it far superior to Smythe's on the same subject,
or to the merits of the new Chancellor. It is evidently the production
of a man of taste, and a poet, though I should not be willing to say it
was fully equal to what might be expected from the author of "Horæ
Ionicæ."4 I thank you for it, and that is more than I would do
for any other Ode of the present day.
I am very sensible of your good wishes, and, indeed, I have need of
them. My whole life has been at variance with propriety, not to say
decency; my circumstances are become involved; my friends are dead or
estranged, and my existence a dreary void. In Matthews I have lost my
"guide, philosopher, and friend;" in Wingfield a friend only, but one
whom I could have wished to have preceded in his long journey.
Matthews was indeed an extraordinary man; it has not entered into the
heart of a stranger to conceive such a man: there was the stamp of
immortality in all he said or did;—and now what is he? When we see such
men pass away and be no more—men, who seem created to display what the
Creator could make his creatures, gathered into corruption,
before the maturity of minds that might have been the pride of
posterity, what are we to conclude? For my own part, I am bewildered. To
me he was much, to Hobhouse every thing. My poor Hobhouse doted on
Matthews. For me, I did not love quite so much as I honoured him; I was
indeed so sensible of his infinite superiority, that though I did not
envy, I stood in awe of it. He, Hobhouse, Davies, and myself, formed a
coterie of our own at Cambridge and elsewhere. Davies is a wit and man
of the world, and feels as much as such a character can do; but not as
Hobhouse has been affected. Davies, who is not a scribbler, has always
beaten us all in the war of words, and by his colloquial powers at once
delighted and kept us in order. Hobhouse and myself always had the worst
of it with the other two; and even Matthews yielded to the dashing
vivacity of Scrope Davies. But I am talking to you of men, or boys, as
if you cared about such beings.
I expect mine agent down on the I4th to proceed to Lancashire, where I
hear from all quarters that I have a very valuable property in coals,
etc. I then intend to accept an invitation to Cambridge in October, and
shall, perhaps, run up to town. I have four invitations—to Wales,
Dorset, Cambridge, and Chester; but I must be a man of business. I am
quite alone, as these long letters sadly testify. I perceive, by
referring to your letter, that the Ode is from the author; make my
thanks acceptable to him. His muse is worthy a nobler theme. You will
write as usual, I hope. I wish you good evening, and am, etc.
Footnote 1: The lines, which are parodied in Byron's unpublished
Barmaid, are from Sir W. Jones's translation of a song by Hafiz
(Works, vol. x. p. 251):
"Sweet maid, if thou would'st charm my sight,
And bid these arms thy neck infold;
That rosy cheek, that lily hand,
Would give thy poet more delight,
Than all Bocara's vaunted gold,
Than all the gems of Samarcand."
return to footnote mark
Footnote 2: Vauxhall Gardens (1661 to July 25, 1859) were still not
only a popular but a fashionable resort, though fireworks and
masquerades threatened to expel musicians and vocalists. At this time
the principal singers were Charles Dignum (1765-1827); Maria Theresa
Bland (1769-1838), a famous ballad-singer; Rosoman Mountain, née
Wilkinson (1768-1841), whose husband was a violinist and leader at
Vauxhall.—(The London Pleasure Gardens, pp. 286-326.)
return
Footnote 3: On June 29, 1811, the Duke of Gloucester was installed as
Chancellor of the University of Cambridge. The Installation Ode, written
by W. Smyth, of Peterhouse (1765-1849), Professor of Modern History at
Cambridge, and author of English Lyrics (1797) and other works,
was set to music by Hague, and performed in the Senate House, Braham and
Ashe, it is said, particularly distinguishing themselves among the
performers. The Ode is given in the Annual Register for 1811, pp.
593-596. The rival Ode, which Byron preferred, was by Walter Rodwell
Wright.
return
Footnote 4: For Walter Rodwell Wright, author of Horæ Ionicæ
(1809), see Letters, vol. i. p. 336, note 1. [Footnote 2 of Letter 167]
return
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Contents
[Six Mile Bottom, Newmarket.]
Newstead Abbey, Sept. 9th, 1811.
My Dear Augusta,—My Rochdale affairs are understood to be settled as
far as the Law can settle them, and indeed I am told that the most
valuable part is that which was never disputed; but I have never reaped
any advantage from them, and God knows if I ever shall. Mr. H., my
agent, is a good man and able, but the most dilatory in the world. I
expect him down on the 14th to accompany me to Rochdale, where something
will be decided as to selling or working the Collieries. I am Lord of
the Manor (a most extensive one), and they want to enclose, which cannot
be done without me; but I go there in the worst humour possible and am
afraid I shall do or say something not very conciliatory. In short all
my affairs are going on as badly as possible, and I have no hopes or
plans to better them as I long ago pledged myself never to sell
Newstead, which I mean to hold in defiance of the Devil and Man.
I am quite alone and never see strangers without being sick, but I am
nevertheless on good terms with my neighbours, for I neither ride or
shoot or move over my Garden walls, but I fence and box and swim and run
a good deal to keep me in exercise and get me to sleep. Poor Murray is
ill again, and one of my Greek servants is ill too, and my valet has got
a pestilent cough, so that we are in a peck of troubles; my family
Surgeon sent an Emetic this morning for one of them, I did not
very well know which, but I swore Somebody should take it,
so after a deal of discussion the Greek swallowed it with tears in his
eyes, and by the blessing of it, and the Virgin whom he invoked
to assist it and him, I suppose he'll be well tomorrow, if
not, another shall have the next. So your Spouse likes
children, that is lucky as he will have to bring them up; for my
part (since I lost my Newfoundland dog,) I like nobody except his
successor a Dutch Mastiff and three land Tortoises brought with me from
Greece.
I thank you for your letters and am always glad to hear from you, but if
you won't come here before Xmas, I very much fear we shall not meet
here at all, for I shall be off somewhere or other very soon out
of this land of Paper credit (or rather no credit at all, for every body
seems on the high road to Bankruptcy), and if I quit it again I shall
not be back in a hurry.
However, I shall endeavour to see you somewhere, and make my bow with
decorum before I return to the Ottomans, I believe I shall turn
Mussulman in the end.
You ask after my health; I am in tolerable leanness, which I promote by
exercise and abstinence. I don't know that I have acquired any thing by
my travels but a smattering of two languages and a habit of chewing
Tobacco1.
Yours ever,
B.
Footnote 1: To appease the pangs of hunger, and keep down his fat,
Byron was in the habit of chewing gum-mastic and tobacco. For the same
reason, at a later date, he took opium. The mistake which he makes in
his letter to Hodgson (December 8,1811), "I do nothing but eschew
tobacco," is repeated in Don Juan (Canto XII. stanza xiiii.):
"In fact, there's nothing makes me so much grieve,
As that abominable tittle-tattle,
Which is the cud eschewed by human cattle."
return to footnote mark
cross-reference: return to Footnote 6 of Letter 213
List of Letters
Contents
Newstead Abbey, Sept. 9, 1811.
Dear Hodgson,—I have been a good deal in your company lately, for I
have been reading Juvenal and Lady Jane1, etc., for the
first time since my return. The Tenth Sat'e has always been my
favourite, as I suppose indeed of everybody's. It is the finest recipe
for making one miserable with his life, and content to walk out of it,
in any language. I should think it might be redde with great effect to a
man dying without much pain, in preference to all the stuff that ever
was said or sung in churches. But you are a deacon, and I say no more.
Ah! you will marry and become lethargic, like poor Hal of Harrow2,
who yawns at 10 o' nights, and orders caudle annually.
I wrote an answer to yours fully some days ago, and, being quite alone
and able to frank, you must excuse this subsequent epistle, which will
cost nothing but the trouble of deciphering. I am expectant of agents to
accompany me to Rochdale, a journey not to be anticipated with pleasure;
though I feel very restless where I am, and shall probably ship off for
Greece again; what nonsense it is to talk of Soul, when a cloud makes it
melancholy and wine makes it mad.
Collet of Staines, your "most kind host," has lost that girl you saw of
his. She grew to five feet eleven, and might have been God knows how
high if it had pleased Him to renew the race of Anak; but she fell by a
ptisick, a fresh proof of the folly of begetting children. You knew
Matthews. Was he not an intellectual giant? I knew few better or more
intimately, and none who deserved more admiration in point of ability.
Scrope Davies has been here on his way to Harrowgate; I am his guest in
October at King's, where we will "drink deep ere we depart." "Won't you,
won't you, won't you, won't you come, Mr. Mug?"3 We did not
amalgamate properly at Harrow; it was somehow rainy, and then a wife
makes such a damp; but in a seat of celibacy I will have revenge. Don't
you hate helping first, and losing the wings of chicken? And then,
conversation is always flabby. Oh! in the East women are in their proper
sphere, and one has—no conversation at all. My house here is a
delightful matrimonial mansion. When I wed, my spouse and I will be so
happy!—one in each wing.
I presume you are in motion from your Herefordshire station4, and
Drury must be gone back to Gerund Grinding. I have not been at Cambridge
since I took my M.A. degree in 1808. Eheu fugaces! I look forward
to meeting you and Scrope there with the feelings of other times. Capt.
Hobhouse is at Enniscorthy in Juverna. I wish he was in England.
Yours ever,
B.
Footnote 1: See Letters, vol. i. p. 195, note I. [Footnote 1 of Letter 102]
return to footnote mark
Footnote 2: For Henry Drury, see Letters, vol. i. p. 41,
note 2. [Footnote 1 of Letter 14]
return
Footnote 3: Byron may possibly allude to "Matthew Mug," a character in
Foote's Mayor of Garratt, said to be intended for the Duke of
Newcastle. In act ii. sc. 2 of the comedy occurs this passage—
"Heel-Tap. Now, neighbours, have a good caution that this
Master Mug does not cajole you; he is a damn'd palavering fellow."
But there is no passage in the play which exactly corresponds with
Byron's quotation.
return
Footnote 4: Hodgson was staying with his uncle, the Rev. Richard Coke,
of Lower Moor, Herefordshire.
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Newstead Abbey, Sept. 10, 1811.
Dear Sir,—I rather think in one of the opening stanzas of Childe
Harold there is this line:
'Tis said at times the sullen tear would start.
Now, a line or two after, I have a repetition of the epithet
"sullen reverie;" so (if it be so) let us have "speechless
reverie," or "silent reverie;" but, at all events, do away the
recurrence.
Yours ever,
B.
List of Letters
Contents
Newstead Abbey, September 13, 1811.
My Dear Hodgson,—I thank you for your song, or, rather, your two
songs,—your new song on love, and your old song on
religion1. I admire the first sincerely, and in turn
call upon you to admire the following on Anacreon Moore's new
operatic farce2, or farcical opera—call it which you will:
Good plays are scarce,
So Moore writes Farce;
Is Fame like his so brittle?
We knew before
That "Little's" Moore,
But now 'tis Moore that's Little.
I won't dispute with you on the Arcana of your new calling; they are
Bagatelles like the King of Poland's rosary. One remark, and I have
done; the basis of your religion is injustice; the Son of
God, the pure, the immaculate, the innocent,
is sacrificed for the Guilty. This proves His heroism; but
no more does away man's guilt than a schoolboy's volunteering to
be flogged for another would exculpate the dunce from negligence, or
preserve him from the Rod. You degrade the Creator, in the first place,
by making Him a begetter of children; and in the next you convert Him
into a Tyrant over an immaculate and injured Being, who is sent into
existence to suffer death for the benefit of some millions of
Scoundrels, who, after all, seem as likely to be damned as ever. As to
miracles, I agree with Hume that it is more probable men should
lie or be deceived, than that things out of the course of
Nature should so happen. Mahomet wrought miracles, Brothers3 the prophet had proselytes, and so would Breslaw4 the conjuror, had he lived in the time
of Tiberius.
Besides I trust that God is not a Jew, but the God of all
Mankind; and as you allow that a virtuous Gentile may be saved, you do
away the necessity of being a Jew or a Christian.
I do not believe in any revealed religion, because no religion is
revealed: and if it pleases the Church to damn me for not allowing a
nonentity, I throw myself on the mercy of the "Great First
Cause, least understood," who must do what is most proper; though I
conceive He never made any