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There, thou! whose love and life together
fled, or,— Howe’er may be I think it proper to state to you, that this stanza alludes to an event which has taken place since my arrival here, and not to the death of any male friend. Yours, B. * * * * 200.—To R. C. Dallas. Newstead Abbey, Oct. 16, 1811. I am on the wing for Cambridge. Thence, after a short stay, to London. Will you be good enough to keep an account of all the MSS. you receive, for fear of omission? Have you adopted the three altered stanzas of the latest proof? I can do nothing more with them. I am glad you like the new ones. Of the last, and of the two, I sent for a new edition, to-day a fresh note. The lines of the second sheet I fear must stand; I will give you reasons when we meet. Believe me, yours ever, BYRON. * * * 201.—To R. C. Dallas. Cambridge, Oct. 25, 1811. DEAR SIR,—I send you a conclusion to the whole. In a stanza towards the end of Canto I. in the line, Oh, known the earliest and beloved the most, I shall alter the epithet to “esteemed the most.” The present stanzas are for the end of Canto II. For the beginning of the week I shall be at No. 8, my old lodgings, in St. James’ Street, where I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you. Yours ever, B. * * * 202.—To Thomas Moore. [1] Cambridge, October 27, 1811. SIR,—Your letter followed me from Notts, to this place, which will account for the delay of my reply. Your former letter I never had the honour to receive;—be assured in whatever part of the world it had found me, I should have deemed it my duty to return and answer it in person. The advertisement you mention, I know nothing of.—At the time of your meeting with Mr. Jeffrey, I had recently entered College, and remember to have heard and read a number of squibs on the occasion; and from the recollection of these I derived all my knowledge on the subject, without the slightest idea of “giving the lie” to an address which I never beheld. When I put my name to the production, which has occasioned this correspondence, I became responsible to all whom it might concern,—to explain where it requires explanation, and, where insufficiently or too sufficiently explicit, at all events to satisfy. My situation leaves me no choice; it rests with the injured and the angry to obtain reparation in their own way. With regard to the passage in question, you were certainly not the person towards whom I felt personally hostile. On the contrary, my whole thoughts were engrossed by one, whom I had reason to consider as my worst literary enemy, nor could I foresee that his former antagonist was about to become his champion. You do not specify what you would wish to have done: I can neither retract nor apologise for a charge of falsehood which I never advanced. In the beginning of the week, I shall be at No. 8, St. James’s Street.—Neither the letter nor the friend to whom you stated your intention ever made their appearance. Your friend, Mr. Rogers, [2] or any other gentleman delegated by you, will find me most ready to adopt any conciliatory proposition which shall not compromise my own honour,—or, failing in that, to make the atonement you deem it necessary to require. I have the honour to be, Sir, Your most obedient, humble servant, BYRON. [Footnote 1: Thomas Moore (1779-1852), by his literary and social gifts, had made his name several years before 1811, when he first became personally acquainted with Byron. His precocity was as remarkable as his versatility. The son of a Dublin grocer, for whom his political interest secured the post of barrack-master, he went, like Sheridan, to Samuel Whyte’s school, and was afterwards at Trinity College, Dublin. Before he was fifteen he had written verses, including lines to Whyte, himself a poet, the publication of which, in the ‘Anthologia Hibernica’ (October, 1793; February, March, and June, 1794), gained him a local reputation. Coming to London in 1799, he read law at the Middle Temple. His ‘Odes’ translated from Anacreon (1800), dedicated to the Prince of Wales, opened to him the houses of the Whig aristocracy; and his powers as a singer, an actor, a talker, and, later, as a satirist, made him a favourite in society. In 1801 appeared his ’Poems: by the late Thomas Little’, amatory verses which Byron read, and imitated in some of the silliest of his youthful lines. The review of Moore’s ‘Odes, Epistles, and Other Poems’ (1806), which appeared in the ‘Edinburgh Review’ for July, 1806, provoked Moore to challenge Jeffrey. Their duel with “leadless pistols” led, not only to Moore’s friendship with Jeffrey, but, indirectly, as is seen from the following letters, to Moore’s acquaintance with Byron. Moore himself contributed to the ‘Edinburgh’, between the years 1814 and 1834, essays on multifarious subjects, from poetry to German Rationalism, from the Fathers to French official life. In 1807 the first of the ’Irish Melodies’ was published; they continued to appear at irregular intervals till 1834, when 122 had been printed. A master of the art of versification, Moore sings, with graceful fancy, in a tone of mingled mirth and melancholy, his love of his country, of the wine of other countries, and the women of all countries. But, except in his patriotism, he shows little depth of feeling. The ‘Melodies’ are the work of a brilliantly clever man, endowed with an exquisite musical ear, and a temperament that is rather susceptible than intense. With them may be classed his ‘National Airs’ (1815) and ‘Sacred Song’ (1816). Moore had already found one field in which he excelled; it was not long before he discovered another. His serious satires, ‘Corruption’ (1808), ‘Intolerance’ (1808), and ‘The Sceptic’ (1809), failed. His nature was neither deep enough nor strong enough for success in such themes. In the ephemeral strife of party politics he found his real province. Nothing can be better of their kind than the metrical lampoons collected in ’Intercepted Letters, or the Twopenny Post-bag, by Thomas Brown the Younger’ (1813). In his hands the bow and arrows of Cupid become formidable weapons of party warfare; nor do their ornaments impede the movements of the archer. The shaft is gaily winged and brightly polished; the barb sharp and dipped in venom; and the missile hums music as it flies to its mark. Moore’s satire is the satire of the Clubs at its best; but it is scarcely the satire of literature. ’The Twopenny Post-bag’ was the parent of many similar productions, beginning with ‘The Fudge Family in Paris’ (1818), and ending with ’Fables for the Holy Alliance’ (1823), which he dedicated to Byron. As a serious poet, and the author of ‘Lalla Rookh’ (1817), ’The Loves of the Angels’ (1823), and ‘Alciphron’ (1839), Moore was perhaps overrated by his contemporaries. In spite of their brightness of fancy, metrical skill, and brilliant cleverness, they lack the greater elements of the highest poetry. Moore’s prose work begins, apart from his contributions to periodical literature, with the ‘Memoirs of Captain Rock’ (1824), ‘The Epicurean’ (1827), ‘The Travels of an Irish Gentleman in Search of a Religion’ (1834), ‘The History of Ireland’ (1846); and a succession of biographies—the life of ‘Sheridan’ (1825), of ‘Byron’ (1830), and ’Lord Edward Fitzgerald’ (1831)—complete the list. In the midst of his biographical work, Moore was advised by Lord Lansdowne to write nine lives at once, and print them together under the title of ‘The Cat’. In 1811 Moore married Miss Elizabeth Dyke (born 1793), an actress who fascinated him at the Kilkenny private theatricals in 1809. To the outer world, Mrs. Moore’s bird, as she called him, was a sprightly little songster, who lived in a whirl of dinners, suppers, concerts, and theatricals. These, as well as his private anxieties and misfortunes, are recorded in the eight volumes of his ’Memoirs, Journals, and Correspondence’, which were edited by Lord John Russell, in 1853. Moore was an excellent son, a good husband, an affectionate father, and to Byron a loyal friend, neither envious nor subservient. Clare, Hobhouse, and Moore were (Lady Blessington’s ‘Conversations’, 2nd edition, 1850, pp. 393, 394) the only persons whose friendship Byron never disclaimed. He spoke of Moore (’ibid’., pp. 322, 323) as “a delightful companion, gay without being boisterous, witty without effort, comic without coarseness, and sentimental without being lachrymose. He reminds one of the fairy who, whenever she spoke, let diamonds fall from her lips. My ‘tête-à-tête’ suppers with Moore are among the most agreeable impressions I retain of the hours passed in London.” In July, 1806, in consequence of the article in the ‘Edinburgh Review’ on his recent volume of ‘Poems’, Moore sent, through his friend Hume, a challenge to Jeffrey, who was seconded by Francis Horner, and a meeting was arranged. Moore, who had only once in his life discharged a firearm of any kind, and then nearly blew his thumb off, borrowed a case of pistols from William Spencer, and bought in Bond Street enough powder and bullets for a score of duels. The parties met at Chalk Farm; the seconds loaded the pistols, placed the men at their posts, and were about to give the signal to fire, when the police officers, rushing upon them from behind a hedge, knocked Jeffrey’s weapon from his hand, disarmed Moore, and conveyed the whole party to Bow Street. They were released on bail; but, on Moore returning to claim the borrowed pistols, the officer refused to give them up, because only Moore’s pistol was loaded with ball. Horner, however, gave evidence that he had seen both pistols loaded; and there, but for the reports circulated in the newspapers, the affair would have ended. But the joke was too good to be allowed to drop, and, in spite of Moore’s published letter, he was for months a target for the wits (’Memoirs, Journals, and Correspondence’, vol. i. pp. 199-208). In ‘English Bards, etc.’, lines 466, 467, and his ‘note’, Byron made merry over “Little’s leadless pistol,” with the result that, when the second edition o£ the satire was published, with his name attached, Moore sent him the following letter:— “Dublin, January 1, 1810. “My Lord,—Having just seen the name of ‘Lord Byron’ prefixed to a work entitled ‘English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers’, in which, as it appears to me, ‘the lie is given’ to a public statement of mine, respecting an affair with Mr. Jeffrey some years since, I beg you will have the goodness to inform me whether I may consider your Lordship as the author of this publication. “I shall not, I fear, be able to return to London for a week or two; but, in the mean time, I trust your Lordship will not deny me the satisfaction of knowing whether you avow the insult contained in the passages alluded to. “It is needless to suggest to your Lordship the propriety of keeping our correspondence secret. “I have the honour to be, “Your Lordship’s very humble servant, “THOMAS MOORE. “22, Molesworth Street.” Owing to Byron’s absence abroad, the letter never reached him; it was, in fact, kept back by Hodgson. On his return to England, Moore, who in the interval had married, sent him a second letter, restating the nature of the insult he had received in ‘English Bards’. “‘It is now useless,’ I continued (’Life’, p. 143), ’to speak of the steps with which it was my intention to follow up that letter. The time which has elapsed since then, though it has done away neither the injury nor the feeling of it, has, in many respects, materially altered my situation; and the only object which I have now in writing to your Lordship is to preserve some consistency with that former letter, and to prove to you that the injured feeling still exists, however circumstances may compel me to be deaf to its dictates, at present. When I say “injured feeling,” let me assure your Lordship that there is not a single vindictive sentiment in my mind towards you. I mean but to express that uneasiness, under (what I consider to be) a charge of falsehood, which must haunt a man of any feeling to his grave, unless the insult be retracted or atoned for; and which, if I did ‘not’ feel, I should, indeed, deserve far worse than your Lordship’s satire could inflict upon me.’ In conclusion I added, that so far from being influenced by any angry or resentful feeling towards him, it would give me sincere pleasure if, by any satisfactory explanation, he would enable me to seek the honour of being henceforward ranked among his acquaintance.” Byron’s letter of October 27, 1811. was written in reply to this second letter from Moore.] [Footnote 2: For Samuel Rogers, see p. 67, note 1.] * * * 203.—To R. C. Dallas. 8, St. James’s Street, 29th October, 1811. DEAR SIR,—I arrived in town last night, and shall be very glad to see you when convenient. Yours very truly, BYRON. 204.—To Thomas Moore. [1] 8, St. James’s Street, October 29, 1811. SIR,—Soon after my return to England, my friend, Mr. Hodgson, apprised me that a letter for me was in his possession; but a domestic event hurrying me from London immediately after, the letter (which may most probably be your own) is still unopened in his keeping. If, on examination of the address, the similarity of the handwriting should lead to such a conclusion, it shall be opened in your presence, for the satisfaction of all parties. Mr. H. is at present out of town;—on Friday I shall see him, and request him to forward it to my address. With regard to the latter part of both your letters, until the principal point was discussed between us, I felt myself at a loss in what manner to reply. Was I to anticipate friendship from one, who conceived me to have charged him with falsehood? Were not advances, under such circumstances, to be misconstrued,—not, perhaps, by the person to whom they were addressed, but by others? In my case such a step was impracticable. If you, who conceived yourself to be the offended person, are satisfied that you had no cause for offence, it will not be difficult to convince me of it. My situation, as I have before stated, leaves me no choice. I should have felt proud of your acquaintance, had it commenced under other circumstances; but it must rest with you to determine how far it may proceed after so auspicious a beginning. I have the honour to be, etc. [Footnote 1: Moore had replied, accepting Byron’s explanation, and adding, “As your Lordship does not show any wish to proceed beyond the rigid formulary of explanation, it is not for me to make any further advances. We Irishmen, in businesses of this kind, seldom know any medium between decided hostility and decided friendship; but, as any approaches towards the latter alternative must now depend entirely on your Lordship, I have only to repeat that I am satisfied with your letter, and that I have the honour to be,” etc., etc.] * * * 205.—To Thomas Moore. [1] 8, St. James’s Street, October 30, 1811. SIR,—You must excuse my troubling you once more upon this very unpleasant subject. It would be a satisfaction to me, and I should think to yourself, that the unopened letter in Mr. Hodgson’s possession (supposing it to prove your own) should be returned in statu quo to the writer; particularly as you expressed yourself “not quite easy under the manner in which I had dwelt on its miscarriage.” A few words more, and I shall not trouble you further. I felt, and still feel, very much flattered by those parts of your correspondence, which held out the prospect of our becoming acquainted. If I did not meet them in the first instance as perhaps I ought, let the situation I was placed in be my defence. You have now declared yourself satisfied, and on that point we are no longer at issue. If, therefore, you still retain any wish to do me the honour you hinted at, I shall be most happy to meet you, when, where, and how you please, and I presume you will not attribute my saying thus much to any unworthy motive. I have the honour to remain, etc. [Footnote 1: “Piqued,” says Moore (’Life’,
144), “at the manner in which my efforts he had briefly expressed his satisfaction at Byron’s explanation, and added that the correspondence might close.] * * * 206.—To R. C. Dallas. 8, St. James’s Street, October 31, 1811. DEAR SIR,—I have already taken up so much of your time that there needs no excuse on your part, but a great many on mine, for the present interruption. I have altered the passages according to your wish. With this note I send a few stanzas on a subject which has lately occupied much of my thoughts. They refer to the death of one to whose name you are a stranger, and, consequently, cannot be interested. I mean them to complete the present volume. They relate to the same person whom I have mentioned in Canto 2nd, and at the conclusion of the poem. I by no means intend to identify myself with ‘Harold’, but to deny all connection with him. If in parts I may be thought to have drawn from myself, believe me it is but in parts, and I shall not own even to that. As to the Monastic dome, etc., [1] I thought those circumstances would suit him as well as any other, and I could describe what I had seen better than I could invent. I would not be such a fellow as I have made my hero for all the world. Yours ever, B. [Footnote 1: ‘Childe Harold’, Canto II. stanza xlviii.] * * * 207.—To Thomas Moore. 8, St. James’s Street, November 1, 1811. Sir,—As I should be very sorry to interrupt your Sunday’s engagement, if Monday, or any other day of the ensuing week, would be equally convenient to yourself and friend, I will then have the honour of accepting his invitation. Of the professions of esteem with which Mr. Rogers [2] has honoured me, I cannot but feel proud, though undeserving. I should be wanting to myself, if insensible to the praise of such a man; and, should my approaching interview with him and his friend lead to any degree of intimacy with both or either, I shall regard our past correspondence as one of the happiest events of my life. I have the honour to be, Your very sincere and obedient servant, BYRON. [Footnote 1: Rogers has left an account of this dinner. “Neither Moore nor myself had ever seen Byron when it was settled that he should dine at my house to meet Moore; nor was he known by sight to Campbell, who, happening to call upon me that morning, consented to join the party. I thought it best that I alone should be in the drawing-room when Byron entered it; and Moore and Campbell accordingly withdrew. Soon after his arrival, they returned; and I introduced them to him severally, naming them as Adam named the beasts. When we sat down to dinner, I asked Byron if he would take soup? ’No; he never took soup.’ ‘Would he take some fish?’ ‘No; he never took fish.’ Presently I asked if he would eat some mutton? ’No; he never ate mutton.’ I then asked if he would take a glass of wine? ’No; he never tasted wine.’ It was now necessary to inquire what he ‘did’ eat and drink; and the answer was, ‘Nothing but hard biscuits and soda-water.’ Unfortunately, neither hard biscuits nor soda-water were at hand; and he dined upon potatoes bruised down on his plate and drenched with vinegar. My guests stayed very late, discussing the merits of Walter Scott and Joanna Baillie. Some days after, meeting Hobhouse, I said to him, ’How long will Lord Byron persevere in his present diet? ’He replied, ‘Just as long as you continue to notice it.’ I did not then know, what I now know to be a fact, that Byron, after leaving my house, had gone to a Club in St. James’s Street and eaten a hearty meat-supper” (’Table-Talk of Samuel Rogers’, pp. 231, 232). Moore’s (’Life’, p. 145) first impressions of Byron were “the nobleness of his air, his beauty, the gentleness of his voice and manners, and—what was naturally not the least attraction—his marked kindness to myself. Being in mourning for his mother, the colour, as well of his dress, as of his glossy, curling, and picturesque hair, gave more effect to the pure, spiritual paleness of his features, in the expression of which, when he spoke, there was a perpetual play of lively thought, though melancholy was their habitual character when in repose.”] [Footnote 2: Samuel Rogers (1763-1855), the third son of a London banker, was born at Stoke Newington. Shortly after his father’s death, in 1793, he withdrew from any active part in the management of the bank, and devoted himself for the rest of his long life to literature, art, and society. In 1803 he moved from chambers in the Temple to a house in St. James’s Place, overlooking the Green Park. Here he lived till his death, in December, 1855, and here he gathered round him, at his celebrated breakfasts, the most distinguished men and women of his time. An excellent account of the “Town Mouse” entertaining the “Country Mouse” is given by Dean Stanley (’Life’, vol. i. p. 298), who met Wordsworth at breakfast with Rogers, in 1841, and describes “the town mouse a sleek, well-fed, sly, ‘white’ mouse, and the country mouse with its rough, weather-worn face and grey hairs; the town mouse displaying its delicate little rolls and pyramids of glistening strawberries, the country mouse exulting in its hollow tree, its crust of bread and liberty, and rallying its brother on his late hours and frequent dinners.” One of his earliest recollections was the sight of a rebel’s head upon a pole at Temple Bar. He had talked with a Thames boatman who remembered Pope; had seen Garrick in ‘The Suspicious Husband’; had heard Sir Joshua Reynolds deliver his last lecture as President of the Royal Academy; had seen John Wesley “lying in state” in the City Road; had gone to call on Dr. Johnson, but, when his hand was on the knocker, found his courage fled. He lived to be offered the laureateship in 1850, on the death of Wordsworth, and to decline it in favour of Tennyson. “Time was,” wrote Mathias (’Pursuits of Literature’, note, p. 360, ed. 1808), “when bankers were as stupid as their guineas could make them; they were neither orators, nor painters, nor poets. But now. .. Mr. Rogers dreams on Parnassus; and, if I am rightly informed, there is a great demand among his brethren for the ’Pleasures of Memory’.” Rogers began to write poetry at an early age, and continued to write it all his life. His ‘Ode to Superstition’ was published in 1786; the ‘Pleasures of Memory’, in 1792; the ‘Epistle to a Friend’, in 1798; ‘Columbus’, in 1812; ‘Jacqueline’, in 1813; ‘Human Life’, in 1819; ‘Italy’, in 1822-34. His later years were occupied in revising, correcting, or amplifying his published poems, and in preparing the notes to ‘Italy’, which are admirable studies in compactness and precision of language. A disciple of Pope, an imitator of Goldsmith, Rogers was rather a skilful adapter than an original poet. His chief talent was his taste; if he could not originate, he could appreciate. The fastidious care which he lavished on his work has preserved it. In his commonplace-book he has entered the number of years which he spent in composing and revising his poems. His ‘Pleasures of Memory’ occupied seven years, ‘Columbus’ fourteen, and ‘Italy’ fifteen. An excellent judge of art, he employed Flaxman, Stothard, and Turner at a time when their powers were little appreciated by his fellow-countrymen. Of his taste Byron speaks enthusiastically in his Journal (see p. 331). But the following passage (hitherto unpublished) from his ‘Detached Thoughts’ (Ravenna, 1821) gives his later opinion of the man: “When Sheridan was on his death-bed, Rogers aided him with purse and person. This was particularly kind of Rogers, who always spoke ill of Sheridan (to me, at least), but, indeed, he does that of everybody to anybody. Rogers is the reverse of the line: ‘The best good man with the worst natured Muse,’ being: ‘The worst good man with the best natured Muse.’ His Muse being all Sentiment and Sago and Sugar, while he himself is a venomous talker. I say ‘worst good man’ because he is (perhaps) a ‘good’ man; at least he does good now and then, as well he may, to purchase himself a shilling’s worth of salvation for his slanders. They are so ‘little’, too—small talk—and old Womanny, and he is malignant too—and envious—and—he be damned!” In a manuscript note to these passages Sir Walter Scott writes, “I never heard Rogers say a single
word against Byron, which is rather Speaking of Rogers and Sheridan, he says, “He certainly took pennyworths out of his friend’s character. I sat three hours for my picture to Sir Thomas Lawrence, during which the whole conversation was filled up by Rogers with stories of Sheridan, for the least of which, if true, he deserved the gallows. One respected his committing a rape on his sister-in-law on the day of her husband’s funeral. Others were worse.” In politics Rogers was a Whig, in religion a Presbyterian. But he meddled little with either. In private life he was as kindly in action as he was caustic in speech. A sensitive man himself, he studied to be satirical to others. When Ward condemned ‘Columbus’ in the ‘Quarterly Review’, Rogers repaid his critic in the stinging epigram: “Ward has no heart, they say; but
I deny it; Byron warmly admired Rogers’s poetry. To him he dedicated ‘The Giaour’, in “admiration for his genius, respect
for his character, and gratitude The ‘Quarterly Review’, in an article on ‘The Corsair’ and ‘Lara’, mentions “the highly refined, but somewhat
insipid, pastoral tale of Byron, on reading the review, said to Lady Byron, “The man’s a fool. ‘Jacqueline’
is as superior to ‘Lara’ as Rogers is (’Table-Talk of Samuel Rogers’, p. 154, ’note’). “The ’Pleasures of Memory’,” he said (Lady Blessington’s ‘Conversations’, p. 153), “is a very beautiful poem, harmonious, finished, and chaste; it contains not a single meretricious ornament. If Rogers has not fixed himself in the higher fields of Parnassus, he has, at least, cultivated a very pretty flower-garden at its base.” But he goes on to speak of the poem (p. 354) as “a ‘hortus siccus’ of pretty flowers,” and an illustration of “the difference between inspiration and versification.” If Rogers ever saw Byron’s ‘Question and Answer’ (1818), he was generous enough to forget the satire. In ‘Italy’ he paid a noble tribute to the genius of the dead poet: “He is now at rest; * * * 208.—To Francis Hodgson. 8, St. James’s Street, November 17, 1811. Dear Hodgson,—I have been waiting for the letter [1] which was to have been sent by you immediately, and must again jog your memory on the subject. I believe I wrote you a full and true account of poor—’s proceedings. Since his reunion to—, [2] I have heard nothing further from him. What a pity! a man of talent, past the heyday of life, and a clergyman, to fall into such imbecility. I have heard from Hobhouse, who has at last sent more copy to Cawthorn for his Travels. I franked an enormous cover for you yesterday, seemingly to convey at least twelve cantos on any given subject. I fear the I aspect of it was too epic for the post. From this and other coincidences I augur a publication on your part, but what, or when, or how much, you must disclose immediately. I don’t know what to say about coming down to Cambridge at present, but live in hopes. I am so completely superannuated there, and besides feel it something brazen in me to wear my magisterial habit, after all my buffooneries, that I hardly think I shall venture again. And being now an [Greek: ariston men hydôr] disciple I won’t come within wine-shot of such determined topers as your collegiates. I have not yet subscribed to Bowen. I mean to cut Harrow “enim unquam” as somebody classically said for a farewell sentence. I am superannuated there too, and, in short, as old at twenty-three as many men at seventy. Do write and send this letter that hath been so long in your custody. It is important that Moore should be certain that I never received it, if it be his. Are you drowned in a bottle of Port? or a Kilderkin of Ale? that I have never heard from you, or are you fallen into a fit of perplexity? Cawthorn has declined, and the MS. is returned to him. This is all at present from yours in the faith, [Greek: Mpairon]. [Footnote 1: On November 17, 1811, Hodgson writes to Byron: “I enclose you the long-delayed
letter, which, from the similarity of [Footnote 2: The names are carefully erased by Hodgson.] * * * 209.—To Francis Hodgson. 8, St. James’s Street, December 4, 1811. MY DEAR HODGSON,—I have seen Miller, [1] who will see Bland, [2] but I have no great hopes of his obtaining the translation from the crowd of candidates. Yesterday I wrote to Harness, who will probably tell you what I said on the subject. Hobhouse has sent me my Romaic MS., and I shall require your aid in correcting the press, as your Greek eye is more correct than mine. But these will not come to type this month, I dare say. I have put some soft lines on ye Scotch in the ‘Curse of Minerva’; take them; “Yet Caledonia claims some native worth,” etc. [3] If you are not content now, I must say with the Irish drummer to the deserter who called out, “Flog high, flog low” “The de’il burn ye, there’s no pleasing you, flog where one will.” Have you given up wine, even British wine? I have read Watson to Gibbon. [4] He proves nothing, so I am where I was, verging towards Spinoza; and yet it is a gloomy Creed, and I want a better, but there is something Pagan in me that I cannot shake off. In short, I deny nothing, but doubt everything. The post brings me to a conclusion. Bland has just been here. Yours ever, BN. [Footnote 1: See Letters’, vol. i. p. 319, ‘note’ 2 [Footnote 1 of Letter 158]] [Footnote 2: Byron was endeavouring to secure for Bland (see ’Letters, vol. i. p. 271, ‘note’ 1 [Footnote 2 of Letter 137]), the work of translating Lucien Buonaparte’s poem of ‘Charlemagne’. He did not succeed. The poem, translated by Dr. Butler, Head-master of Shrewsbury, afterwards Bishop of Lichfield, and Francis Hodgson, was published in 1815.] [Footnote 3: Lines 149-156.] [Footnote 4: ’An Apology for Christianity, in a Series of Letters to Edward Gibbon, Esq.’, by Richard Watson, D.D. (1776). Gibbon had a great respect for Watson, at this time Professor of Divinity at Cambridge, afterwards Bishop of Llandaff, whom he describes as “a prelate of a large mind and liberal spirit.” In a letter to Holroyd (November 4, 1776), he speaks of the ‘Apology’ as “feeble,” but “uncommingly genteel.” To his stepmother he writes, November 29, 1776, that Watson’s answer is “civil” and “too dull to deserve your notice.”] * * * 210.—To William Harness. [1] 8, St. James’s Street, Dec. 6, 1811. My Dear Harness,—I write again, but don’t suppose I mean to lay such a tax on your pen and patience as to expect regular replies. When you are inclined, write: when silent, I shall have the consolation of knowing that you are much better employed. Yesterday, Bland and I called on Mr. Miller, who, being then out, will call on Bland to-day or to-morrow. I shall certainly endeavour to bring them together.—You are censorious, child; when you are a little older, you will learn to dislike every body, but abuse nobody. With regard to the person of whom you speak, your own good sense must direct you. I never pretend to advise, being an implicit believer in the old proverb. This present frost is detestable. It is the first I have felt for these three years, though I longed for one in the oriental summer, when no such thing is to be had, unless I had gone to the top of Hymettus for it. I thank you most truly for the concluding part of your letter. I have been of late not much accustomed to kindness from any quarter, and am not the less pleased to meet with it again from one where I had known it earliest. I have not changed in all my ramblings,—Harrow, and, of course, yourself, never left me, and the “Dulces reminiscitur Argos” attended me to the very spot to which that sentence alludes in the mind of the fallen Argive.—Our intimacy began before we began to date at all, and it rests with you to continue it till the hour which must number it and me with the things that were. Do read mathematics.—I should think X plus Y at least as amusing as the ‘Curse of Kehama’ [2], and much more intelligible. Master Southey’s poems are, in fact, what parallel lines might be—viz. prolonged ad infinitum without meeting anything half so absurd as themselves. “What news, what news? Queen
Orraca, Coleridge is lecturing. [3] “Many an old fool,” said Hannibal
to some such lecturer, “but such as Ever yours, etc. [Footnote 1: See ‘Letters’, vol. i. p. 177, ‘note’ 1. [Footnote 1 of Letter 92]] [Footnote 2: Robert Southey (1774-1843) published his ‘Curse of Kehama’ in 1810. It formed a part of a series of heroic poems in which he intended to embody the chief mythologies of the world. In spite of Byron’s adverse opinion, it contains magnificent passages, and disputes with ‘Roderick, the Last of the Goths’ (1814), the claim to be the finest of his longer poems. Southey’s literary activity was immense. He had already produced ‘Joan of Arc’ (1796), ‘Thalaba’ (1801), ‘Madoc’ (1805), and many other works in prose and verse. At this time he was personally unknown to Byron, who had ridiculed his “annual strains.” They met for the first time at Holland House, in September, 1813. (See Byron’s letter to Moore, September 27, 1813, and Journal, p. 331.) The animosity between the two men belongs to a later date, and in its origin was partly political, partly personal. Southey, in early life, had been a republican and a Unitarian, if not a deist. He collaborated with Coleridge in the ‘Fall of Robespierre’ (1794), wrote a portion of the ‘Conciones ad Populum’ (1795), which the Government considered seditious; and, according to Poole (’Thomas Pools and his Friends’, vol. i. chap, vi.), wavered “between Deism and Atheism.” He became a champion of monarchical principles and of religious orthodoxy, and attacked the views, which he had once held and expressed in ‘Wat Tyler’ (written in 1794, and piratically published in 1817), with the bitterness of a reactionary. He had also, as Byron believed, circulated, if not invented, a report that Byron and Shelley had formed “a league of incest” at Geneva, in 1816-17, with “two girls,” Mary Godwin (Mrs. Shelley) and Jane Clairmont. Byron not only denied the charge, but retorted upon him, in his “Observations upon an Article in ’Blackwood’s Magazine’” (March 15, 1820), as the author of ‘Wat Tyler’ and poet laureate, the man who “wrote treason and serves the King,” the ex-pantisocrat who advocated “all things, including women, in common.” Southey’s ‘Vision of Judgment’, an apotheosis of George III., published in 1821, gave Byron a second provocation and a second opportunity, by speaking in the preface of his “Satanic spirit of pride and audacious impiety.” Byron again replied in prose; and Southey (January 5, 1820), in a letter to the ‘London Courier’, invited him to attack him in rhyme. In Byron’s ‘Vision of Judgment’ he found his invitation accepted, and himself pilloried in that tremendous satire. Southey overvalued his own narrative poetry. It is as a man, a prominent figure in literary history, a leader in the romantic revival, a master of prose, and the author of the best short biography in the English language—the ’Life of Nelson’ (1813)—that he lives at the present day. His name also deserves to be remembered with gratitude by all who have read the nursery classic of “’The Three Bears’.” Byron parodies a stanza in Southey’s “Queen Orraca and the Five Martyrs of Morocco” (’Works’, vol. vi. pp. 166-173): “What news, O King Affonso, The blanks stand for Scott or Southey, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Lloyd, and Lamb(e), with the lines from ‘New Morality’ in his mind: “Coleridge and Southey, Lloyd and
Lamb and Co., [Footnote 3: Coleridge, beginning November 18, 1811, and ending January 27, 1812, delivered a course of seventeen lectures on Shakespeare and Milton, “in illustration of the principles of poetry.” The lectures were given under the auspices of the London Philosophical Society, in the Scot’s Corporation Hall, Crane Court, Fleet Street. Single tickets for the whole course were two guineas, or three guineas “with the privilege of introducing a lady.” J. Payne Collier took shorthand notes of the lectures and published a portion of his material, the rest being lost (’Lectures on Shakespear’, from notes by J.P. Collier), The notes, with other contemporary reports from the ‘Times’, ‘Morning Chronicle’, ‘Dublin Chronicle’, Crabb Robinson’s ‘Diary’, and other sources, were republished in 1883 by Mr. Ashe (’Lectures and Notes on Shakspere and other English Poets’). Collier, in his notes of Coleridge’s conversation (November I, 1811), gives the substance, in all probability, of the attack on Campbell alluded to in the next letter. Coleridge said that “neither Southey, Scott, nor Campbell would by their poetry survive much beyond the day when they lived and wrote. Their works seemed to him not to have the seeds of vitality, the real germs of long life. The two first were entertaining as tellers of stories in verse; but the last, in his ‘Pleasures of Hope’, obviously had no fixed design, but when a thought (of course, not a very original one) came into his head, he put it down in couplets, and afterwards strung the ‘disjecta membra’ (not ‘poetæ’) together. Some of the best things in it were borrowed; for instance the line: ‘And freedom shriek’d when Kosciusko fell,’ was taken from a much-ridiculed piece by Dennis, a pindaric on William III.: ‘Fair Liberty shriek’d out aloud, aloud Religion groaned.’ It is the same production in which the following much-laughed-at specimen of bathos is found: ’Nor Alps nor Pyreneans keep him
out, Coleridge had little toleration for Campbell, and considered him, as far as he had gone, a mere verse-maker.”(Ashe’s Introduction to ’Lectures on Shakspere’, pp. 16, 17).] [Footnote 4: Hannibal, in exile at Ephesus, was taken to hear a lecture by a peripatetic philosopher named Phormio. The lecturer (’homo copiosus’) discoursed for some hours on the duties of a general, and military subjects generally. The delighted audience asked Hannibal his opinion of the lecture. He replied in Greek, “I have seen many old fools often,
but such an old fool as Phormio, (’Multos se deliros senes s¾pe vidisse;
sed qui magis, quam Phormio, (Cicero, ‘De Oratore’, ii. 18).] * * * 211.—To James Wedderburn Webster. 8, St. James’s St., Dec. 7th, 1811. My Dear W.,—I was out of town during the arrival of your letters, but forwarded all on my return. I hope you are going on to your satisfaction, and that her Ladyship is about to produce an heir with all his mother’s Graces and all his Sire’s good qualities. You know I am to be a Godfather. Byron Webster! a most heroic name, say what you please. Don’t be alarmed; my “caprice” won’t lead me in to Dorset. No, Bachelors for me! I consider you as dead to us, and all my future devoirs are but tributes of respect to your Memory. Poor fellow! he was a facetious companion and well respected by all who knew him; but he is gone. Sooner or later we must all come to it. I see nothing of you in the papers, the only place where I don’t wish to see you; but you will be in town in the Winter. What dost thou do? shoot, hunt, and “wind up y’e Clock” as Caleb Quotem says? [1] That thou art vastly happy, I doubt not. I see your brother in law at times, and like him much; but we miss you much; I shall leave town in a fortnight to pass my Xmas in Notts. Good afternoon, Dear W. [Footnote 1: Byron alludes to Caleb Quotem’s song in ’The Review, or Wags of Windsor’ (act ii. sc. 2), by George Colman the Younger: “I’m parish clerk and sexton
here, ... “At night by the fire, like a good, jolly cock, When my day’s work is done and all over, I tipple, I smoke, and I wind up the clock, With my sweet Mrs. Quotem in clover.”] * * * 212.—To William Harness. St. James’s Street, Dec. 8, 1811. Behold a most formidable sheet, without gilt or black edging, and consequently very vulgar and indecorous, particularly to one of your precision; but this being Sunday, I can procure no better, and will atone for its length by not filling it. Bland I have not seen since my last letter; but on Tuesday he dines with me, and will meet Moore, the epitome of all that is exquisite in poetical or personal accomplishments. How Bland has settled with Miller, I know not. I have very little interest with either, and they must arrange their concerns according to their own gusto. I have done my endeavours, at your request, to bring them together, and hope they may agree to their mutual advantage. Coleridge has been lecturing against Campbell. [1] Rogers was present, and from him I derive the information. We are going to make a party to hear this Manichean of poesy. Pole [2] is to marry Miss Long, and will be a very miserable dog for all that. The present ministers are to continue, and his Majesty does continue in the same state; so there’s folly and madness for you, both in a breath. I never heard but of one man truly fortunate, and he was Beaumarchais, [3] the author of Figaro, who buried two wives and gained three lawsuits before he was thirty. And now, child, what art thou doing? Reading, I trust. I want to see you take a degree. Remember, this is the most important period of your life; and don’t disappoint your papa and your aunt, and all your kin—besides myself. Don’t you know that all male children are begotten for the express purpose of being graduates? and that even I am an A.M., [4] though how I became so the Public Orator only can resolve. Besides, you are to be a priest; and to confute Sir William Drummond’s late book about the Bible [5] (printed, but not published), and all other infidels whatever. Now leave Master H.’s gig, and Master S.’s Sapphics, and become as immortal as Cambridge can make you. You see, Mio Carissimo, what a pestilent correspondent I am likely to become; but then you shall be as quiet at Newstead as you please, and I won’t disturb your studies as I do now. When do you fix the day, that I may take you up according to contract? Hodgson talks of making a third in our journey; but we can’t stow him, inside at least. Positively you shall go with me as was agreed, and don’t let me have any of your politesse to H. on the occasion. I shall manage to arrange for both with a little contrivance. I wish H. was not quite so fat, and we should pack better. You will want to know what I am doing—chewing tobacco. You see nothing of my allies, Scrope Davies and Matthews [6]—they don’t suit you; and how does it happen that I—who am a pipkin of the same pottery—continue in your good graces? Good night,—I will go on in the morning. Dec. 9th.—In a morning I am always sullen, and to-day is as sombre as myself. Rain and mist are worse than a sirocco, particularly in a beef-eating and beer-drinking country. My bookseller, Cawthorne, has just left me, and tells me, with a most important face, that he is in treaty for a novel of Madame D’Arblay’s, for which 1000 guineas are asked! [7] He wants me to read the MS. (if he obtains it), which I shall do with pleasure; but I should be very cautious in venturing an opinion on her whose Cecilia Dr. Johnson superintended. If he lends it to me, I shall put it in the hands of Rogers and Moore, who are truly men of taste. I have filled the sheet, and beg your pardon; I will not do it again. I shall, perhaps, write again; but if not, believe, silent or scribbling, that I am, My dearest William, ever, etc. [Footnote 1: See p. 75, ‘note’ 1. In the application to Coleridge of the phrase, “Manichean of poesy,” Byron may allude to Cowper’s ‘Task’ (bk. v. lines 444, 445): “As dreadful as the Manichean God, [Footnote 2: William Wellesley Pole Tylney Long Wellesley (1788-1857), one of the most worthless of the bloods of the Regency, son of Lord Maryborough, and nephew of the Duke of Wellington, became in 1845 the fourth Earl of Mornington. He married in March, 1812, Catherine, daughter and co-heir, with her brother, of Sir James Tylney Long, Bart., of Draycot, Wilts. On his marriage he added his wife’s double name to his own, and so gave a point to the authors of Rejected Addresses: “Long may Long-Tilney-Wellesley-Long-Pole live.” For Byron’s allusion to him in ‘The Waltz’, see ‘Poems’, 1898, vol. i. p. 484, note 1. Having run through his wife’s large fortune by his extravagant expenditure at Wanstead Park and elsewhere, he was obliged, in 1822, to escape from his creditors to the Continent. There (1823-25) he lived with Mrs. Bligh, wife of Captain Bligh, of the Coldstream Guards. His wife died in 1825, after filing a bill for divorce, and making her children wards of Chancery. Wellesley subsequently (1828) married Mrs. Bligh; but the second wife was as ill treated as the first, and he left her so destitute that she was a frequent applicant for relief at the metropolitan police-courts. He died of heart-disease in July, 1857, a pensioner on the charity of his cousin, the second Duke of Wellington.] [Footnote 3: Byron’s statement is incorrect. Pierre-Auguste Caron de Beaumarchais (1732-1799) married, in 1756, as his first wife, Madeleine-Catherine Aubertin, widow of the sieur Franquet. She died in 1757. He married, in 1768, as his second wife, Geneviève-Magdaleine Wattebled, widow of the sieur Lévêque. She died in 1770. The only lawsuit which he won “before he was thirty,” was that against Lepaute, who claimed as his own invention the escapement for watches and clocks, which Beaumarchais had discovered. The case was decided in favour of Beaumarchais in 1754. Out of his second lawsuit—with Count de la Blache, legatee of his patron Duverney, who died in 1770—sprang his action against Goëzman, with which began the publication of his ‘Mémoires’. (See Loménie, ‘Beaumarchais and his Times’, tr. by H.S. Edwards, 4 vols., London, 1855-6.)] [Footnote 4: Byron took his M. A. degree at Cambridge July 4, 1808.] [Footnote 5: Sir William Drummond (1770-1828), Tory M.P. for St. Mawes (1795-96) and for Lostwithiel (1796-1801), held from 1801 to 1809 several diplomatic posts: ambassador to the Court of Naples 1801-3; to the Ottoman Porte 1803-6; to the Court of Naples for the second time, 1806-9. From 1809, at which date his political and diplomatic career closed, he devoted himself to literature. He had already published ‘Philosophical Sketches on the Principles of Society and Government’ (1793); ‘A Review of the Governments of Sparta and Athens’ (1795); ’The Satires of Persius’, translated (1798); ‘Byblis, a Tragedy’, in verse (1802); ‘Academical Questions’ (1805). In 1810 he published ‘Herculanensia’; and, in the following year, printed for private circulation his ‘OEdipus Judaicus’, a bold attempt to explain many parts of the Old Testament as astronomical allegories. In 1817 appeared the first part of his ‘Odin’, a poem in blank verse; in 1824-29 his ’Origines, or Remarks on the Origin of several Empires, States, and Cities’, was published. Sir William, who died at Rome in 1828, lived much of his later life abroad. Drummond, as a member of the Alfred Club, is described in the ‘Sexagenarian’ (vol. ii. chap, xxiv.), where Beloe, speaking of the (’Edipus Judaicus’), says that “he appeared to have employed his leisure in searching for objections and arguments as they related to Scripture, which had been so often refuted, that they were considered by the learned and wise as almost exploded.” He refers to ‘Byblis’ as evidence of his “perverted and fantastical taste” in poetry, praises his “spirited translation” of Persius, commends the “sound sense and very extensive reading” of his ‘Philosophical’ ‘Sketches’, and scoffs at the “metaphysical labyrinth” of his ‘Academical Questions’. “When you go to Naples,” said Byron to Lady Blessington (’Conversations’, pp. 238, 239), “you must make acquaintance with Sir William Drummond, for he is certainly one of the most erudite men and admirable philosophers now living. He has all the wit of Voltaire, with a profundity that seldom appertains to wit, and writes so forcibly, and with such elegance and purity of style, that his works possess a peculiar charm. Have you read his ‘Academical Questions’? If not, get them directly, and I think you will agree with me, that the preface to that work alone would prove Sir William Drummond an admirable writer. He concludes it by the following sentence, which I think one of the best in our language: “’Prejudice may be trusted to guard the outworks for a short space of time, while Reason slumbers in the citadel; but if the latter sink into a lethargy, the former will quickly erect a standard for herself. Philosophy, wisdom, and liberty support each other; he who will not reason is a bigot; he who cannot is a fool; and he who dares not is a slave.’ “Is not the passage admirable? How few could have written it! and yet how few read Drummond’s works! They are too good to be popular. His ‘Odin’ is really a fine poem, and has some passages that are beautiful, but it is so little read that it may be said to have dropped still-born from the press—a mortifying proof of the bad taste of the age. His translation of Persius is not only very literal, but preserves much of the spirit of the original… he has escaped all the defects of translators, and his Persius resembles the original as nearly, in feeling and sentiment, as two languages so dissimilar in idiom will admit.”] [Footnote 6: Henry Matthews (1789-1828) of Eton and King’s College, Cambridge, younger brother of Charles Skinner Matthews, and author of the ‘Diary of an Invalid’ (1820).] [Footnote 7: ‘The Wanderer, or Female Difficulties’, Madame d’Arblay’s fourth and last novel (’Evelina’, 1778; ‘Cecilia’, 1782; ‘Camilla’, 1796), was published in 1814. “I am indescribably occupied,” she writes to Dr. Burney, October 12, 1813, “in giving more and more last touches to my work, about which I begin to grow very anxious. I am to receive merely £500 upon delivery of the MS.; the two following £500 by instalments from nine months to nine months, that is, in a year and a half from the day of publication. If all goes well, the whole will be £3000, but only at the end of the sale of eight thousand copies.” The book failed; but rumour magnified the sum received by the writer. Mrs. Piozzi, shortly after the publication of ‘The Wanderer’ and of Byron’s lines, “Weep, daughter of a royal line,” writes to Samuel Lysons, February 17, 1814: “Come now, do send me a kind letter
and tell me if Madame d’Arblaye (’Autobiography, Letters, and Literary Remains’, vol. ii. p. 246).] [Footnote 8: Dr. Johnson never saw ‘Cecilia’ (1782) till it was in print. A day or two before publication, Miss Burney sent three copies to the three persons who had the best claim to them—her father, Mrs. Thrale, and Dr. Johnson.] * * * 213.—To Francis Hodgson. London, Dec. 8, 1811. I sent you a sad Tale of Three Friars the other day, and now take a dose in another style. I wrote it a day or two ago, on hearing a song of former days. “Away, away, ye notes of woe,” etc., etc. [1] I have gotten a book by Sir W. Drummond (printed, but not published), entitled OEdipus Judaicus in which he attempts to prove the greater part of the Old Testament an allegory, particularly Genesis and Joshua. He professes himself a theist in the preface, and handles the literal interpretation very roughly. I wish you could see it. Mr. Ward [2] has lent it me, and I confess to me it is worth fifty Watsons. You and Harness must fix on the time for your visit to Newstead; I can command mine at your wish, unless any thing particular occurs in the interim. Master William Harness and I have recommenced a most fiery correspondence; I like him as Euripides liked Agatho, or Darby admired Joan, as much for the past as the present. Bland dines with me on Tuesday to meet Moore. Coleridge has attacked the Pleasures of Hope, and all other pleasures whatsoever. Mr. Rogers was present, and heard himself indirectly rowed by the lecturer. We are going in a party to hear the new Art of Poetry by this reformed schismatic [3]; and were I one of these poetical luminaries, or of sufficient consequence to be noticed by the man of lectures, I should not hear him without an answer. For you know, “an a man will be beaten with brains,
he shall never keep a clean Campbell [5] will be desperately annoyed. I never saw a man (and of him I have seen very little) so sensitive;—what a happy temperament! I am sorry for it; what can he fear from criticism? I don’t know if Bland has seen Miller, who was to call on him yesterday. To-day is the Sabbath,—a day I never pass pleasantly, but at Cambridge; and, even there, the organ is a sad remembrancer. Things are stagnant enough in town; as long as they don’t retrograde, ’tis all very well. Hobhouse writes and writes and writes, and is an author. I do nothing but eschew tobacco. [6] I wish parliament were assembled, that I may hear, and perhaps some day be heard;—but on this point I am not very sanguine. I have many plans;—sometimes I think of the East again, and dearly beloved Greece. I am well, but weakly. Yesterday Kinnaird [7] told me I looked very ill, and sent me home happy. You will never give up wine. See what it is to be thirty! if you were six years younger, you might leave off anything. You drink and repent; you repent and drink. Is Scrope still interesting and invalid? And how does Hinde with his cursed chemistry? To Harness I have written, and he has written, and we have all written, and have nothing now to do but write again, till Death splits up the pen and the scribbler. The Alfred [8] has three hundred and fifty-four candidates for six vacancies. The cook has run away and left us liable, which makes our committee very plaintive. Master Brook, our head serving-man, has the gout, and our new cook is none of the best. I speak from report,—for what is cookery to a leguminous-eating Ascetic? So now you know as much of the matter as I do. Books and quiet are still there, and they may dress their dishes in their own way for me. Let me know your determination as to Newstead, and believe me, Yours ever, [Greek: Mpairon.] [Footnote 1: Here follows one of the ‘Thyrza’ poems.] [Footnote 2: The Hon. John William Ward, afterwards fourth Earl of Dudley. Byron said of him (Lady Blessington’s ’Conversations with Lord Byron’, p. 197), “Ward is one of the best-informed men I know, and, in a ‘tête-à-tête’, is one of the most agreeable companions. He has great originality, and, being ‘très distrait’, it adds to the piquancy of his observations, which are sometimes somewhat ‘trop naïve’, though always amusing. This ‘naïveté’ of his is the more piquant from his being really a good-natured man, who unconsciously thinks aloud. Interest Ward on a subject, and I know no one who can talk better. His expressions are concise without being poor, and terse and epigrammatic without being affected,” etc. Of somewhat the same opinion was Lady H. Leveson Gower (’Letters of Harriet, Countess Granville’, vol. i. pp. 41, 42): “The charm of Mr. Ward’s conversation is exactly what Mr. Luttrell wants, a sort of ‘abandon’, and being entertaining because it is his nature and he cannot help it. I only mean Mr. Ward in his happier hour, for what I have said of him is the very reverse of what he is when vanity or humour seize upon him.”] [Footnote 3: Crabb Robinson, in his ‘Diary’ for January 20, 1812, has the following entry: “In the evening at Coleridge’s lecture. Conclusion of Milton. Not one of the happiest of Coleridge’s efforts. Rogers was there, and with him was Lord Byron. He was wrapped up, but I recognized his club foot, and, indeed, his countenance and general appearance.”] [Footnote 4: “‘Benedict’: No; if a man will be beaten with brains,
he shall wear nothing ‘Much Ado about Nothing’, act v. sc. 4.] [Footnote 5: Thomas Campbell (1777-1844) lectured at the Royal Institution in 1811 on poetry. The lectures were afterwards published in the ‘New Monthly Magazine’, of which he was editor (1820-30). Campbell also apparently read his lectures aloud at private houses. Miss Berry (’Journal’, vol. ii. p. 502) mentions a dinner-party on June 26, 1812, at the Princess of Wales’s, where she heard him read his “first discourse,” delivered at the Institution. Again (ibid., vol. iii. p. 6), she dined with Madame de Stael, March 9, 1814: “Nobody but Campbell the poet, Rocca, and her own daughter. After dinner, Campbell read to us a discourse of his upon English poetry, and upon some of the great poets. There are always signs of a poet and critic of genius in all he does, often encumbered by too ornate a style.” Campbell’s best work was done between 1798 and 1810. Within that period were published ‘The Pleasures of Hope’ (1799), ‘Gertrude of Wyoming’ (1809), and such other shorter poems as “Hohenlinden,” “Ye Mariners of England,” “The Battle of the Baltic,” and “O’Connor’s Child.” His “Ritter Bann,” a reminiscence of his sojourn abroad (1800-1), was not published till later; both it and “The Last Man” were published in the ‘New Monthly Magazine’, during the period of his editorship. An excellent judge of verse, he collected ‘Specimens of the British Poets’ (1819), to which he added a valuable essay on poetry and short biographies. His ‘Theodoric’ (1824), ‘Pilgrim of Glencoe’ (1842), and Lives of Mrs. Siddons, Petrarch, and Shakespeare added nothing to his reputation. The judgment of contemporary poets in the main agreed with Coleridge’s estimate of Campbell’s work. “There are some of Campbell’s lyrics,” said Rogers (’Table-Talk’, etc., pp. 254, 255), “which will never die. His ‘Pleasures of Hope’ is no great favourite with me. The ‘feeling’ throughout his ‘Gertrude’ is very beautiful.” Wordsworth also thought the ‘Pleasures of Hope’ “strangely over-rated; its fine words and sounding lines please the generality of readers, who never stop to ask themselves the meaning of a passage.” Byron, who calls Campbell “a warm-hearted and honest man,” thought that his “‘Lochiel’ and ‘Mariners’ are spirit-stirring productions; his ‘Gertrude of Wyoming’ is beautiful; and some of the episodes in his ‘Pleasures of Hope’ pleased me so much that I know them by heart”. (Lady Blessington’s ‘Conversations with Lord Byron’, p. 353). George Ticknor, who met Campbell in 1815 (’Life’, vol. i. p. 63), says, “He is a short, small man, and has one of the roundest and most lively faces I have seen amongst this grave people. His manners seemed as open as his countenance, and his conversation as spirited as his poetry. He could have kept me amused till morning.” Shortly afterwards, Ticknor went to see him at Sydenham (ibid., p. 65): “Campbell had the same good spirits and love of merriment as when I met him before,—the same desire to amuse everybody about him; but still I could see, as I partly saw then, that he labours under the burden of an extraordinary reputation, too easily acquired, and feels too constantly that it is necessary for him to make an exertion to satisfy expectation. The consequence is that, though he is always amusing, he is not always quite natural.” Sir Walter Scott made a similar remark about the numbing effect of Campbell’s reputation upon his literary work; his deference to critics ruined his individuality. It was Scott’s admiration for “Hohenlinden” which induced Campbell to publish the poem. The two men, travelling in a stage-coach alone, beguiled the way by repeating poetry. At last Scott asked Campbell for something of his own. He replied that there was one thing he had never printed, full of “drums and trumpets and blunderbusses and thunder,” and that he did not know if there was any good in it. He then repeated “Hohenlinden.” When he had finished, Scott broke out with, “But, do you know, that’s devilish
fine! Why, it’s the finest thing [Footnote 6: See p. 31, note 1 [Footnote 1 of Letter 181].] [Footnote 7: Douglas James William Kinnaird (1788-1830), fifth son of the seventh Baron Kinnaird, was educated at Eton, Gottingen, and Trinity College, Cambridge. He was an intimate friend of Hobhouse, with whom he travelled on the Continent (1813-14), and was in political sympathy. He represented Bishop’s Castle from July, 1819, to March, 1820, but losing his seat at the general election, did not again attempt to enter Parliament. He was famous for his “mob dinners,” to which Moore probably refers when he writes to Byron, in an undated letter, of the “Deipnosophist Kinnaird.” He was a partner in the bank of Ransom and Morland, a member of the committee for managing Drury Lane Theatre, author of the acting version of ’The Merchant of Bruges, or Beggar’s Bush’ (acted at Drury Lane, December 14, 1815), and a member of the Radical Rota Club. Kinnaird was Byron’s “trusty and trustworthy trustee and banker, and crown and sheet anchor.” It was at his suggestion that Byron wrote the ‘Hebrew Melodies’ and the ‘Monody on the Death of Sheridan’. Talking of Kinnaird to Lady Blessington (’Conversations’, p. 215), Byron said, “My friend Dug is a proof that a good heart cannot compensate for an irritable temper; whenever he is named, people dwell on the last and pass over the first; and yet he really has an excellent heart, and a sound head, of which I, in common with many others of his friends, have had various proofs. He is clever, too, and well informed, and I do think would have made a figure in the world, were it not for his temper, which gives a dictatorial tone to his manner, that is offensive to the ‘amour propre’ of those with whom he mixes.”] [Footnote 8: The Alfred Club (1808-55), established at 23, Albemarle Street, was the Savile of the day. Beloe, in his ‘Sexagenarian’ (vol. ii. chaps, xx.-xxv.), describes among the members of the Symposium, as he calls it, Sir James Mackintosh, George Ellis, William Gifford, John Reeves, Sir W. Drummond, and himself. Byron, in his ‘Detached Thoughts’, says, “I was a member of the Alfred. It was pleasant; a little too sober and literary, and bored with Sotheby and Sir Francis d’Ivernois; but one met Peel, and Ward, and Valentia, and many other pleasant or known people; and it was, upon the whole, a decent resource in a rainy day, in a dearth of parties, or parliament, or in an empty season.” It was, says Mr. Wheatley (’London Past and Present’), known as the ‘Half-read’. In a manuscript note, now for the first time printed as written, on the above passage from Byron’s ‘Detached Thoughts’, Sir Walter Scott writes, “The Alfred, like all other clubs, was much haunted with boars, a tusky monster which delights to range where men most do congregate. A boar, or bore, is always remarkable for something respectable, such as wealth, character, high birth, acknowledged talent, or, in short, for something that forbids people to turn him out by the shoulders, or, in other words, to cut him dead. Much of this respectability is supplied by the mere circumstance of belonging to a certain society of clubists, within whose districts the bore obtains free-warren, and may wallow or grunt at pleasure. Old stagers in the club know and avoid the fated corner and arm-chair which he haunts; but he often rushes from his lair on the inexperienced.”] * * * 214.—To Thomas Moore. December 11, 1811. My Dear Moore,—If you please, we will drop our former monosyllables, and adhere to the appellations sanctioned by our godfathers and godmothers. If you make it a point, I will withdraw your name; at the same time there is no occasion, as I have this day postponed your election ‘sine die’, till it shall suit your wishes to be amongst us. I do not say this from any awkwardness the erasure of your proposal would occasion to me, but simply such is the state of the case; and, indeed, the longer your name is up, the stronger will become your probability of success, and your voters more numerous. Of course you will decide—your wish shall be my law. If my zeal has already outrun discretion, pardon me, and attribute my officiousness to an excusable motive. I wish you would go down with me to Newstead. Hodgson will be there, and a young friend, named Harness, the earliest and dearest I ever had from the third form at Harrow to this hour. I can promise you good wine, and, if you like shooting, a manor of 4000 acres, fires, books, your own free will, and my own very indifferent company. ‘Balnea, vina, Venus’ [1]. Hodgson will plague you, I fear, with verse;—for my own part I will conclude, with Martial, ‘nil recitabo tibi’ [2]; and surely the last inducement, is not the least. Ponder on my proposition, and believe me, my dear Moore, Yours ever, BYRON. [Footnote 1: “Balnea, vina, Venus corrumpunt corpora nostra.” The words are thus given in Grüter (’Corpus Inscriptionum’ (1603), p. DCCCCXII. 10).] [Footnote 2: Martial (xi. lii. 16), ‘Ad Julium Cerealem’: “Plus ego polliceor: nil recitabo tibi.”] * * * 215.—To Francis Hodgson. 8, St. James’s Street, Dec. 12, 1811. Why, Hodgson! I fear you have left off wine and me at the same time,—I have written and written and written, and no answer! My dear Sir Edgar [1], water disagrees with you—drink sack and write. Bland did not come to his appointment, being unwell, but Moore supplied all other vacancies most delectably. I have hopes of his joining us at Newstead. I am sure you would like him more and more as he developes,—at least I do. How Miller and Bland go on, I don’t know. Cawthorne talks of being in treaty for a novel of Madame D’Arblay’s, and if he obtains it (at 1500 guineas!!) wishes me to see the MS. This I should read with pleasure,— not that I should ever dare to venture a criticism on her whose writings Dr. Johnson once revised, but for the pleasure of the thing. If my worthy publisher wanted a sound opinion, I should send the MS. to Rogers and Moore, as men most alive to true taste. I have had frequent letters from Wm. Harness, and you are silent; certes, you are not a schoolboy. However, I have the consolation of knowing that you are better employed, viz. reviewing. You don’t deserve that I should add another syllable, and I won’t. Yours, etc. P.S.—I only wait for your answer to fix our meeting. [Footnote 1: Hodgson published, in 1810, ’Sir Edgar, a Tale’.] * * * 216.—To R. C. Dallas. DEAR SIR,—I have only this scrubby paper to write on—excuse it. I am certain that I sent some more notes on Spain and Portugal, particularly one on the latter. Pray rummage, and don’t mind my politics. I believe I leave town next week. Are you better? I hope so. Yours ever, [Footnote 1: Dallas’s answer is dated December 14, 1811] * * * 217.—To William Harness. 8, St. James’s Street, Dec. 15, 1811. I wrote you an answer to your last, which, on reflection, pleases me as little as it probably has pleased yourself. I will not wait for your rejoinder; but proceed to tell you, that I had just then been greeted with an epistle of * ’s, full of his petty grievances, and this at the moment when (from circumstances it is not necessary to enter upon) I was bearing up against recollections to which his imaginary sufferings are as a scratch to a cancer. These things combined, put me out of humour with him and all mankind. The latter part of my life has been a perpetual struggle against affections which embittered the earliest portion; and though I flatter myself I have in a great measure conquered them, yet there are moments (and this was one) when I am as foolish as formerly. I never said so much before, nor had I said this now, if I did not suspect myself of having been rather savage in my letter, and wish to inform you this much of the cause. You know I am not one of your dolorous gentlemen: so now let us laugh again. Yesterday I went with Moore to Sydenham to visit Campbell [1]. He was not visible, so we jogged homeward merrily enough. To-morrow I dine with Rogers, and am to hear Coleridge, who is a kind of rage at present. Last night I saw Kemble in Coriolanus [2];—he was glorious, and exerted himself wonderfully. By good luck I got an excellent place in the best part of the house, which was more than overflowing. Clare [3] and Delawarr [4], who were there on the same speculation, were less fortunate. I saw them by accident,—we were not together. I wished for you, to gratify your love of Shakspeare and of fine acting to its fullest extent. Last week I saw an exhibition of a different kind in a Mr. Coates, [5] at the Haymarket, who performed Lothario in a damned and damnable manner. I told you the fate of B[land] and H[odgson] in my last. So much for these sentimentalists, who console themselves in their stews for the loss—the never to be recovered loss—the despair of the refined attachment of a couple of drabs! You censure my life, Harness,—when I compare myself with these men, my elders and my betters, I really begin to conceive myself a monument of prudence—a walking statue—without feeling or failing; and yet the world in general hath given me a proud pre-eminence over them in profligacy. Yet I like the men, and, God knows, ought not to condemn their aberrations. But I own I feel provoked when they dignify all this by the name of love—romantic attachments for things marketable for a dollar! Dec. 16th.—I have just received your letter;—I feel your kindness very deeply. The foregoing part of my letter, written yesterday, will, I hope, account for the tone of the former, though it cannot excuse it. I do like to hear from you—more than like. Next to seeing you, I have no greater satisfaction. But you have other duties, and greater pleasures, and I should regret to take a moment from either. H * * was to call to-day, but I have not seen him. The circumstances you mention at the close of your letter is another proof in favour of my opinion of mankind. Such you will always find them—selfish and distrustful. I except none. The cause of this is the state of society. In the world, every one is to stir for himself—it is useless, perhaps selfish, to expect any thing from his neighbour. But I do not think we are born of this disposition; for you find friendship as a schoolboy, and love enough before twenty. I went to see * *; he keeps me in town, where I don’t wish to be at present. He is a good man, but totally without conduct. And now, my dearest William, I must wish you good morrow, and remain ever, Most sincerely and affectionately yours, etc. [Footnote 1: Campbell lived at Sydenham from 1804 to 1820. Moore (Life, p. 148) adds the following note: “On this occasion, another of the noble poet’s peculiarities was, somewhat startlingly, introduced to my notice. When we were on the point of setting out from his lodgings in St. James’s Street, it being then about midday, he said to the servant, who was shutting the door of the ‘vis-a-vis’, ‘Have you put in the pistols?’ and was answered in the affirmative. It was difficult,—more especially taking into account the circumstances under which we had just become acquainted,— to keep from smiling at this singular noonday precaution.”] [Footnote 2: On December 14, 1811, at Covent Garden, Kemble acted “Coriolanus” with Mrs. Siddons as “Volumnia.” It was Kemble’s great part, and in it he made his last appearance on the stage (June 23, 1817).] [Footnote 3: For Lord Clare, see ‘Letters’, vol. i. p. 116, ‘note’ 1 [Footnote 1 of Letter 65.]] [Footnote 4: For Lord Delawarr, see ‘Letters’, vol. i. p. 41, note 1 [Footnote 5 of Letter 13.]] [Footnote 5: Robert Coates, “the Amateur of Fashion,” known as “Romeo” Coates, sometimes as “Diamond” Coates, sometimes as “Cock-a-doodle-doo” Coates (1772-1848), was the only surviving son of a wealthy West Indian planter. He made his first appearance on the stage at Bath (February 9, 1810), as “Romeo.” In the play-bill he was announced as “a Gentleman, 1st Appearance on any stage.” Genest (’English Stage’, vol. viii. p. 207) says, “Many gentlemen have been weak enough
to fancy themselves actors, but On December 9, 1811, he appeared at the Haymarket as “Lothario” in Rowe’s ‘Fair Penitent’. Mathews, at Covent Garden, imitated his performance, in Bate Dudley’s ‘At Home’, as “Mr. Romeo Rantall,” appearing in the “pink silk vest and cloak, white
satin breeches and stockings, Spanish ‘Memoirs of Charles Mathews’, (vol. ii. pp. 238, 239).] * * * 218.—To Robert Rushton. [1] 8, St. James’s Street, Jan. 21, 1812. Though I have no objection to your refusal to carry letters to Mealey’s, you will take care that the letters are taken by Spero at the proper time. I have also to observe, that Susan is to be treated with civility, and not insulted by any person over whom I have the smallest controul, or, indeed, by any one whatever, while I have the power to protect her. I am truly sorry to have any subject of complaint against you; I have too good an opinion of you to think I shall have occasion to repeat it, after the care I have taken of you, and my favourable intentions in your behalf. I see no occasion for any communication whatever between you and the women, and wish you to occupy yourself in preparing for the situation in which you will be placed. If a common sense of decency cannot prevent you from conducting yourself towards them with rudeness, I should at least hope that your own interest, and regard for a master who has never treated you with unkindness, will have some weight. Yours, etc., BYRON. P.S.—I wish you to attend to your arithmetic, to occupy yourself in surveying, measuring, and making yourself acquainted with every particular relative to the land of Newstead, and you will write to me one letter every week, that I may know how you go on. [Footnote 1: The two following letters, and a suppressed passage in the letter to Moore of January 29, 1812, refer to a quarrel among his dependents, in which Rushton, the “little page” of Childe Harold (see ‘Letters’, vol. i. pp. 224, 242), played a part. The story is told at considerable length in a letter to Hodgson, dated January 28, 1812. To the same affair probably belong the following scrap and Byron’s note: “Pray don’t forget me, as
I shall never cease thinking of you, my To this Byron has added this note: “This was written on the 11th of
January, 1812; on the 28th I received The letters show, writes Moore (’Life’, p. 152), “how gravely and coolly the young lord could arbitrate on such an occasion, and with what considerate leaning towards the servant whose fidelity he had proved, in preference to any new liking or fancy by which it might be suspected he was actuated toward the other.” In a MS. book written by Mrs. Heath of Newstead (’née’ Rebekah Beardall), it is stated that the elder Rushton had as his farm-servant Fletcher, afterwards Byron’s valet. Byron watched Fletcher and young Robert Rushton ploughing, took a fancy to both, and engaged them as his servants. Rushton accompanied Byron to Geneva, but afterwards entered the service of James Wedderburn Webster (see p. 2, ‘note’ 1). In 1827 he married a woman of the name of Bagnall, and with her help kept a school at Arnold, near Nottingham. Subsequently he took a farm on the Newstead estate, named Hazelford, and shortly afterwards died, leaving a widow and three children.] * * * 219.—To Robert Rushton. 8, St. James’s Street, January 25, 1812. Your refusal to carry the letter was not a subject of remonstrance: it was not a part of your business; but the language you used to the girl was (as she stated it) highly improper. You say, that you also have something to complain of; then state it to me immediately: it would be very unfair, and very contrary to my disposition, not to hear both sides of the question. If any thing has passed between you before or since my last visit to Newstead, do not be afraid to mention it. I am sure you would not deceive me, though she would. Whatever it is, you, shall be forgiven. I have not been without some suspicions on the subject, and am certain that, at your time of life, the blame could not attach to you. You will not consult, any one as to your answer, but write to me immediately. I shall be more ready to hear what you have to advance, as I do not remember ever to have heard a word from you before against, any human being, which convinces me you would not maliciously assert an untruth. There is not any one who can do the least injury to you, while you conduct yourself properly. I shall expect your answer immediately. Yours, etc., BYRON. * * * 220.—To Thomas Moore. January 29, 1812. My Dear Moore,—I wish very much I could have seen you; I am in a state of ludicrous tribulation.* Why do you say that I dislike your poesy [1]? I have expressed no such opinion, either in print or elsewhere. In scribbling myself, it was necessary for me to find fault, and I fixed upon the trite charge of immorality, because I could discover no other, and was so perfectly qualified in the innocence of my heart, to “pluck that mote from my neighbour’s eye.” I feel very, very much obliged by your approbation; but, at this moment, praise, even your praise, passes by me like “the idle wind.” I meant and mean to send you a copy the moment of publication; but now I can think of nothing but damned, deceitful,—delightful woman, as Mr. Liston says in the ‘Knight of Snowdon’ [2]? Believe me, my dear Moore, Ever yours, most affectionately, BYRON. [Footnote: 1. Of Moore’s early poems Byron was an admirer. The influence of “Little” and “Anacreon” is strongly marked throughout ’Hours of Idleness’. For the “trite charge of immorality,” see ’English Bards, etc.’, lines 283-294; and ‘Letters’, vol. i. p. 113. Byron’s opinion of Moore’s later poetry was thus stated by him to Lady Blessington (’Conversations’, pp. 354, 355): “Having compared Rogers’s poems to a flower-garden, to what shall I compare Moore’s?—to the Valley of Diamonds, where all is brilliant and attractive, but where one is so dazzled by the sparkling on every side that one knows not where to fix, each gem beautiful in itself, but overpowering to the eye from their quantity.”] [Footnote 2: ‘The Knight of Snowdoun’, a musical drama, written by Thomas Morton (1764-1838), and founded on ‘The Lady of the Lake’, was produced at Covent Garden, Feb. 5, 1811, and published the same year. John Liston (1776-1846), the most famous comedian of the century, played the part of “Macloon,” his wife that of “Isabel.” In act iii. sc. 3 Macloon says, “Oh, woman! woman! deceitful, damnable,
(changing into a half-smile) * * * 221.—To Francis Hodgson. 8, St. James’s Street, Feb. 1, 1812. MY DEAR HODGSON,-I am rather unwell with a vile cold, caught in the House of Lords last night. Lord Sligo and myself, being tired, paired off, being of opposite sides, so that nothing was gained or lost by our votes. I did not speak: but I might as well, for nothing could have been inferior to the Duke of Devonshire, Marquis of Downshire, and the Earl of Fitzwilliam. The Catholic Question comes on this month, and perhaps I may then commence. I must “screw my courage to the sticking-place,” and we’ll not fail. Yours ever, B. * * * 222.—To Samuel Rogers. February 4, 1812. MY DEAR SIR,—With my best acknowledgments to Lord Holland [1], I have to offer my perfect concurrence in the propriety of the question previously to be put to ministers. If their answer is in the negative, I shall, with his Lordship’s approbation, give notice of a motion for a Committee of Inquiry. I would also gladly avail myself of his most able advice, and any information or documents with which he might be pleased to intrust me, to bear me out in the statement of facts it may be necessary to submit to the House. From all that fell under my own observation during my Christmas visit to Newstead, I feel convinced that, if conciliatory measures are not very soon adopted, the most unhappy consequences may be apprehended. [2] Nightly outrage and daily depredation are already at their height; and not only the masters of frames, who are obnoxious on account of their occupation, but persons in no degree connected with the malecontents or their oppressors, are liable to insult and pillage. I am very much obliged to you for the trouble you have taken on my account, and beg you to believe me, Ever your obliged and sincere, etc. [Footnote 1: For Lord Holland, see ‘Letters’, vol. i. p. 184, ‘note’ 1 [Footnote 3 of Letter 94]. He was Recorder of Nottingham; hence his special interest in the proposed legislation against frame-breaking.] [Footnote 2: Owing to the state of trade, numbers of stocking-weavers had lost work. The discontent thus produced was increased by the introduction of a wide frame for the manufacture of gaiters and stockings, which, it was supposed, would further diminish the demand for manual labour. In November, 1811, organized bands of men began to break into houses and destroy machinery. For several days no serious effort was made to check the riots, which extended to a considerable distance round Nottingham. But on November 14 the soldiers were called out. Between that date and December 9, 900 cavalry and 1000 infantry were sent to Nottingham; and, on January 8, 1812, these forces were increased by two additional regiments. The rioters assumed the name of Luddites, and their leader was known as General Lud. The name is said to have originated in 1779, in a Leicestershire village, where a half-witted lad, named Ned Lud, broke a stocking-frame in a fit of passion; hence the common saying, when machinery was broken, that “Ned Lud” did it. A Bill was introduced in the House of Commons (February 14) increasing the severity of punishments for frame-breaking. On the second reading (February 17) Sir Samuel Romilly strongly opposed the measure, which passed its third reading (February 20) without a division. The Bill, as introduced into the Upper House by Lord Liverpool, (1) rendered the offence of frame-breaking punishable by death; and (2) compelled persons in whose houses the frames were broken to give information to the magistrates. On the second reading of the Bill (February 27, 1812), Byron spoke against it in his first speech in the House of Lords (see Appendix II. (i)). The Bill passed its third reading on March 5, and became law as 52 Geo. III. c. 16. Byron did not confine his opposition to a speech in the House of Lords. He also addressed “An Ode to the Framers of the Frame Bill,” which appeared in the ‘Morning Chronicle’ on Monday, March 2, 1812. The following letter to Perry, the editor, is published by permission of Messrs. Ellis and Elvey, in whose possession is the original: “Sir,—I take the liberty
of sending an alteration of the two last “’Gibbets on Sherwood
will heighten the Scenery “I wish you could insert it tomorrow for a particular reason; but I feel much obliged by your inserting it at all. Of course, do not put my name to the thing. Believe me, Your obliged and very obed’t Serv’t, BYRON. “8, St. James Street, Sunday, March 1st, 1812.”] * * * 223.—To Master John Cowell. [1] 8, St. James’s Street, February 12, 1812. MY DEAR JOHN,—You have probably long ago forgotten the writer of these lines, who would, perhaps, be unable to recognize yourself, from the difference which must naturally have taken place in your stature and appearance since he saw you last. I have been rambling through Portugal, Spain, Greece, etc., etc., for some years, and have found so many changes on my return, that it would be very unfair not to expect that you should have had your share of alteration and improvement with the rest. I write to request a favour of you: a little boy of eleven years, the son of Mr. *, my particular friend, is about to become an Etonian, and I should esteem any act of protection or kindness to him as an obligation to myself: let me beg of you then to take some little notice of him at first, till he is able to shift for himself. I was happy to hear a very favourable account of you from a schoolfellow a few weeks ago, and should be glad to learn that your family are as well as I wish them to be. I presume you are in the upper school;—as an Etonian, you will look down upon a Harrow man; but I never, even in my boyish days, disputed your superiority, which I once experienced in a cricket match, where I had the honour of making one of eleven, who were beaten to their hearts’ content by your college in one innings. [2] Believe me to be, with great truth, etc., etc., B. [Footnote 1: “Breakfasted with Mr. Cowell,” writes Moore, in his Diary, June 11, 1828, “having made his acquaintance for the purpose of gaining information about Lord Byron. Knew Byron for the first time when he himself was a little boy, from being in the habit of playing with B.’s dogs. Byron wrote to him to school to bid him mind his prosody. Gave me two or three of his letters to him. Saw a good deal of B. at Hastings; mentioned the anecdote about the ink-bottle striking one of the lead Muses. These Muses had been brought from Holland; and there were, I think, only eight of them arrived safe. Fletcher had brought B. a large jar of ink, and, not thinking it was full, B. had thrust his pen down to the very bottom; his anger at finding it come out all besmeared with ink made him chuck the jar out of the window, when it knocked down one of the Muses in the garden, and deluged her with ink. In 1813, when B. was at Salt Hill, he had Cowell over from Eton, and ‘pouched’ him no less than ten pounds. Cowell has ever since kept one of the notes. Told me a curious anecdote of Byron’s mentioning to him, as if it had made a great impression on him, their seeing Shelley (as they thought) walking into a little wood at Lerici, when it was discovered afterwards that Shelley was at that time in quite another direction. ‘This,’ said Byron, in a sort of awe-struck voice, ’was about ten days before his death.’ Cowell’s imitation of his look and manner very striking. Thinks that in Byron’s speech to Fletcher, when he was dying, threatening to appear to him, there was a touch of that humour and fun which he was accustomed to mix up with everything”. (’Memoirs, Journals, etc’., vol. v. pp. 302, 303).] [Footnote 2: See ‘Letters’, vol. i. p. 70, and ‘note’ 1 [Footnote 2 of Letter 30.]] * * * * 224.—To Francis Hodgson. 8, St. James’s Street, February 16, 1812. Dear Hodgson,—I send you a proof. Last week I was very ill and confined to bed with stone in the kidney, but I am now quite recovered. The women are gone to their relatives, after many attempts to explain what was already too clear. If the stone had got into my heart instead of my kidneys, it would have been all the better. However, I have quite recovered that also, and only wonder at my folly in excepting my own strumpets from the general corruption,—albeit a two months’ weakness is better than ten years. I have one request to make, which is, never mention a woman again in any letter to me, or even allude to the existence of the sex. I won’t even read a word of the feminine gender;—it must all be ‘propria quæ maribus’. In the spring of 1813 I shall leave England for ever. Every thing in my affairs tends to this, and my inclinations and health do not discourage it. Neither my habits nor constitution are improved by your customs or your climate. I shall find employment in making myself a good Oriental scholar. I shall retain a mansion in one of the fairest islands, and retrace, at intervals, the most interesting portions of the East. In the mean time, I am adjusting my concerns, which will (when arranged) leave me with wealth sufficient even for home, but enough for a principality in Turkey. At present they are involved, but I hope, by taking some necessary but unpleasant steps, to clear every thing. Hobhouse is expected daily in London: we shall be very glad to see him; and, perhaps, you will come up and “drink deep ere he depart,” if not, “Mahomet must go to the mountain;” [1]—but Cambridge will bring sad recollections to him, and worse to me, though for very different reasons. I believe the only human being, that ever loved me in truth and entirely, was of, or belonging to, Cambridge, and, in that, no change can now take place. There is one consolation in death—where he sets his seal, the impression can neither be melted nor broken, but endureth for ever. Yours always, B. P.S.—I almost rejoice when one I love dies young, for I could never bear to see them old or altered. [Footnote 1: See Bacon’s ‘Essays’ (“Of Boldness”): “Mahomet made the people believe that he would call a hill to him, and from the top of it offer up his prayers for the observers of his law. The people assembled; Mahomet called the hill to come to him, again and again; and when the hill stood still, he was never a whit abashed, but said, ’If the hill will not come to Mahomet, Mahomet will go to the hill.’”] * * * 225.—To Francis Hodgson. London, February 21, 1812. My Dear Hodgson,—There is a book entituled Galt, his Travels in ye Archipelago, [1] daintily printed by Cadell and Davies, ye which I could desiderate might be criticised by you, inasmuch as ye author is a well-respected esquire of mine acquaintance, but I fear will meet with little mercy as a writer, unless a friend passeth judgment. Truth to say, ye boke is ye boke of a cock-brained man, and is full of devises crude and conceitede, but peradventure for my sake this grace may be vouchsafed unto him. Review him myself I can not, will not, and if you are likewize hard of heart, woe unto ye boke! ye which is a comely quarto. Now then! I have no objection to review, if it pleases Griffiths [2] to send books, or rather you, for you know the sort of things I like to [play] with. You will find what I say very serious as to my intentions. I have every reason to induce me to return to Ionia. Believe me, yours always, B. [Footnote 1: John Galt (1779-1839) published in 1812 his ’Voyages and Travels in the Years 1809, 1810, and 1811’. For his meeting with Byron at Gibraltar in 1809, see ‘Letters’, vol. i. p. 243, ‘note’ 1 [Footnote 1 of Letter 130]; see also ‘ibid.’, p. 304, ‘note’ 2 [Footnote 2 of Letter 131]. Galt’s novels were, in later years, liked by Byron, who “praised the ‘Annals of the Parish’ very highly, as also ’The Entail’ ... some scenes of which, he said, had affected him very much. ‘The characters in Mr. Galt’s novels have an identity,’ added Byron, ‘that reminds me of Wilkie’s pictures’” (Lady Blessington’s ‘Conversations with Lord Byron’, p. 74). “When I knew Galt, years ago,” said Byron to Lady Blessington, “I was not in a frame of mind to form an impartial opinion of him: his mildness and equanimity struck me even then; but, to say the truth, his manner had not deference enough for my then aristocratical taste, and finding I could not awe him into a respect sufficiently profound for my sublime self, either as a peer or an author, I felt a little grudge towards him that has now completely worn off,” etc., etc. (’ibid.’, p. 249).] [Footnote 2: George Edward Griffiths (circ. 1769-1829), son of Ralph Griffiths, who founded, owned, and published the ‘Monthly Review’, and boarded and lodged Oliver Goldsmith as a contributor, succeeded to the management of the ‘Review’ on the death of his father in 1803. He edited it till 1825, when he sold the property. He lived at Linden House, Turnham Green. Francis Hodgson wrote for the ‘Monthly Review’, and, March 2, 1814, he writes to Byron, “I have already read a review of Safie in the ‘British Critic’, and will undertake it in the ‘Monthly’ if Griffiths, with whom I am in very bad odour from my late shameful idleness, will allow me. Oh that you would write a good smart critique of something to get both ‘yourself and me’ in high repute at Turnham Green!!!!” In Byron’s ‘Detached Thoughts’ occurs the following passage: “I have been a reviewer. In the ‘Monthly Review’ I wrote some articles which were inserted. This was in the latter part of 1811. In 1807, in a Magazine called ‘Monthly Literary Recreations’, I reviewed Wordsworth’s trash of that time. “Excepting these, I cannot accuse
myself of anonymous Criticism (that In the Bodleian Library is a copy of the ‘Monthly Review’, in which Griffiths has entered the initials of the authors of each article. Two articles from the ‘Review’, attributed to Byron on this authority, are given in Appendix I.] * * * 226.—To Lord Holland. 8, St. James’s Street, February 25, 1812. MY LORD,—With my best thanks, I have the honour to return the Notts, letter to your Lordship. I have read it with attention, but do not think I shall venture to avail myself of its contents, as my view of the question differs in some measure from Mr. Coldham’s. I hope I do not wrong him, but his objections to the bill appear to me to be founded on certain apprehensions that he and his coadjutors might be mistaken for the “original advisers” (to quote him) of the measure. For my own part, I consider the manufacturers as a much injured body of men, sacrificed to the views of certain individuals who have enriched themselves by those practices which have deprived the frame-workers of employment. For instance;—by the adoption of a certain kind of frame, one man performs the work of seven—six are thus thrown out of business. But it is to be observed that the work thus done is far inferior in quality, hardly marketable at home, and hurried over with a view to exportation. Surely, my Lord, however we may rejoice in any improvement in the arts which may be beneficial to mankind, we must not allow mankind to be sacrificed to improvements in mechanism. The maintenance and well-doing of the industrious poor is an object of greater consequence to the community than the enrichment of a few monopolists by any improvement in the implements of trade, which deprives the workman of his bread, and renders the labourer “unworthy of his hire.” My own motive for opposing the bill is founded on its palpable injustice, and its certain inefficacy. I have seen the state of these miserable men, and it is a disgrace to a civilized country. Their excesses may be condemned, but cannot be subject of wonder. The effect of the present bill would be to drive them into actual rebellion. The few words I shall venture to offer on Thursday will be founded upon these opinions formed from my own observations on the spot. By previous inquiry, I am convinced these men would have been restored to employment, and the county to tranquillity. It is, perhaps, not yet too late, and is surely worth the trial. It can never be too late to employ force in such circumstances. I believe your Lordship does not coincide with me entirely on this subject, and most cheerfully and sincerely shall I submit to your superior judgment and experience, and take some other line of argument against the bill, or be silent altogether, should you deem it more advisable. Condemning, as every one must condemn, the conduct of these wretches, I believe in the existence of grievances which call rather for pity than punishment. I have the honour to be, with great respect, my Lord, your Lordship’s Most obedient and obliged servant, BYRON. P.S.—I am a little apprehensive that your Lordship will think me too lenient towards these men, and half a frame-breaker myself. * * * 227.—To Francis Hodgson. 8, St. James’s Street, March 5, 1812. MY DEAR HODGSON,—We are not answerable for reports of speeches in the papers; they are always given incorrectly, and on this occasion more so than usual, from the debate in the Commons on the same night. The Morning Post should have said eighteen years. However, you will find the speech, as spoken, in the Parliamentary Register, when it comes out. Lords Holland and Grenville, particularly the latter, paid me some high compliments in the course of their speeches, as you may have seen in the papers, and Lords Eldon and Harrowby answered me. I have had many marvellous eulogies [1] repeated to me since, in person and by proxy, from divers persons ministerial—yea, ministerial!—as well as oppositionists; of them I shall only mention Sir F. Burdett. He says it is the best speech by a lord since the “Lord knows when,” probably from a fellow-feeling in the sentiments. Lord H. tells me I shall beat them all if I persevere; and Lord G. remarked that the construction of some of my periods are very like Burke’s!! And so much for vanity. I spoke very violent sentences with a sort of modest impudence, abused every thing and every body, and put the Lord Chancellor very much out of humour: and if I may believe what I hear, have not lost any character by the experiment. As to my delivery, loud and fluent enough, perhaps a little theatrical. I could not recognize myself or any one else in the newspapers [2]. I hire myself unto Griffiths, and my poesy [3] comes out on Saturday. Hobhouse is here; I shall tell him to write. My stone is gone for the present, but I fear is part of my habit. We all talk of a visit to Cambridge. Yours ever, B. [Footnote 1: For Byron’s speech, February 27, 1812, see Appendix II. (i).] Grenville said, “There never was a maxim of greater
wisdom than that uttered by the (’Hansard’, vol. xxi. p. 977). Moore quotes a passage from Byron’s ‘Detached Thoughts’: “Sheridan’s liking for me (whether he was not mystifying me I do not know, but Lady Caroline Lamb and others told me that he said the same both before and after he knew me) was founded upon ’English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers’. He told me that he did not care about poetry (or about mine̵ | |||||||||