"Newstead Abbey, Notts., Sept. 14. 1811."Sir,"Since your former letter, Mr. Dallas informs me that the MS. has been submitted to the perusal of Mr. Gifford, most contrary to my wishes, as Mr. D. could have explained, and as my own letter to you did, in fact, explain, with my motives for objecting to such a proceeding. Some late domestic events, of which you are probably aware, prevented my letter from being sent before; indeed, I hardly conceived you would so hastily thrust my productions into the hands of a stranger, who could be as little pleased by receiving them, as their author is attheir being offered, in such a manner, and to such a man."My address, when I leave Newstead, will be to 'Rochdale, Lancashire;' but I have not yet fixed the day of departure, and I will apprise you when ready to set off."You have placed me in a very ridiculous situation, but it is past, and nothing more is to be said on the subject. You hinted to me that you wished some alterations to be made; if they have nothing to do with politics or religion, I will make them with great readiness. I am, Sir," &c.&c.
"Newstead Abbey, Notts., Sept. 14. 1811.
"Sir,
"Since your former letter, Mr. Dallas informs me that the MS. has been submitted to the perusal of Mr. Gifford, most contrary to my wishes, as Mr. D. could have explained, and as my own letter to you did, in fact, explain, with my motives for objecting to such a proceeding. Some late domestic events, of which you are probably aware, prevented my letter from being sent before; indeed, I hardly conceived you would so hastily thrust my productions into the hands of a stranger, who could be as little pleased by receiving them, as their author is attheir being offered, in such a manner, and to such a man.
"My address, when I leave Newstead, will be to 'Rochdale, Lancashire;' but I have not yet fixed the day of departure, and I will apprise you when ready to set off.
"You have placed me in a very ridiculous situation, but it is past, and nothing more is to be said on the subject. You hinted to me that you wished some alterations to be made; if they have nothing to do with politics or religion, I will make them with great readiness. I am, Sir," &c.&c.
TO MR. MURRAY.
"Newstead Abbey, Sept. 16. 1811.[26]"I return the proof, which I should wish to be shown to Mr. Dallas, who understands typographical arrangements much better than I can pretend to do. The printer may place the notes in hisown way, oranywayso that they are out ofmy way; I care nothing about types or margins."If you have any communication to make, I shall be here at least a week or ten days longer."I am, Sir," &c. &c.
"Newstead Abbey, Sept. 16. 1811.[26]
"I return the proof, which I should wish to be shown to Mr. Dallas, who understands typographical arrangements much better than I can pretend to do. The printer may place the notes in hisown way, oranywayso that they are out ofmy way; I care nothing about types or margins.
"If you have any communication to make, I shall be here at least a week or ten days longer.
"I am, Sir," &c. &c.
LETTER 68. TO MR. DALLAS.
"Newstead Abbey, Sept. 17. 1811."I can easily excuse your not writing, as you have, I hope, something better to do, and you must pardon my frequent invasions on your attention, because I have at this moment nothing to interpose between you and my epistles."I cannot settle to any thing, and my days pass, with the exception of bodily exercise to some extent, with uniform indolence, and idle insipidity. I have been expecting, and still expect, my agent, when I shall have enough to occupy my reflections in business of no very pleasant aspect. Before my journey to Rochdale, you shall have due notice where to address me—I believe at the post-office of that township. From Murray I received a second proof of the same pages, which I requested him to show you, that any thing which may have escaped my observation may be detected before the printer lays the corner-stone of anerratacolumn."I am now not quite alone, having an old acquaintance and school-fellow with me, soold, indeed, that we have nothingnewto say on any subject, and yawn at each other in a sort ofquiet inquietude. I hear nothing from Cawthorn, or Captain Hobhouse; andtheir quarto—Lord have mercy on mankind! We come on like Cerberus with our triple publications. As formyself, bymyself, I must be satisfied with a comparison toJanus."I am not at all pleased with Murray for showing the MS.; and I am certain Gifford must see it in the same light that I do. His praise is nothing to the purpose: what could he say? He could not spit in the face of one who had praised him in every possible way. I must own that I wish to have the impression removed from his mind, that I had any concern in such a paltry transaction. The more I think, the more it disquiets me; so I will say no more about it. It is bad enough to be a scribbler, without having recourse to such shifts to extort praise, or deprecate censure. It is anticipating, it is begging, kneeling, adulating,—the devil! the devil! the devil! and all without my wish, and contrary to my express desire. I wish Murray had been tied toPayne's neck when he jumped into the Paddington Canal[27], and so tell him,—thatis theproper receptacle for publishers. You have thoughts of settling in the country, why not try Notts.? I think there are places which would suit you in all points, and then you are nearer the metropolis. But of this anon. I am, yours," &c.
"Newstead Abbey, Sept. 17. 1811.
"I can easily excuse your not writing, as you have, I hope, something better to do, and you must pardon my frequent invasions on your attention, because I have at this moment nothing to interpose between you and my epistles.
"I cannot settle to any thing, and my days pass, with the exception of bodily exercise to some extent, with uniform indolence, and idle insipidity. I have been expecting, and still expect, my agent, when I shall have enough to occupy my reflections in business of no very pleasant aspect. Before my journey to Rochdale, you shall have due notice where to address me—I believe at the post-office of that township. From Murray I received a second proof of the same pages, which I requested him to show you, that any thing which may have escaped my observation may be detected before the printer lays the corner-stone of anerratacolumn.
"I am now not quite alone, having an old acquaintance and school-fellow with me, soold, indeed, that we have nothingnewto say on any subject, and yawn at each other in a sort ofquiet inquietude. I hear nothing from Cawthorn, or Captain Hobhouse; andtheir quarto—Lord have mercy on mankind! We come on like Cerberus with our triple publications. As formyself, bymyself, I must be satisfied with a comparison toJanus.
"I am not at all pleased with Murray for showing the MS.; and I am certain Gifford must see it in the same light that I do. His praise is nothing to the purpose: what could he say? He could not spit in the face of one who had praised him in every possible way. I must own that I wish to have the impression removed from his mind, that I had any concern in such a paltry transaction. The more I think, the more it disquiets me; so I will say no more about it. It is bad enough to be a scribbler, without having recourse to such shifts to extort praise, or deprecate censure. It is anticipating, it is begging, kneeling, adulating,—the devil! the devil! the devil! and all without my wish, and contrary to my express desire. I wish Murray had been tied toPayne's neck when he jumped into the Paddington Canal[27], and so tell him,—thatis theproper receptacle for publishers. You have thoughts of settling in the country, why not try Notts.? I think there are places which would suit you in all points, and then you are nearer the metropolis. But of this anon. I am, yours," &c.
LETTER 69. TO MR. DALLAS.
"Newstead Abbey, Sept. 21. 1811."I have shown my respect for your suggestions by adopting them; but I have made many alterations in the first proof, over and above; as, for example:"Oh Thou, inHellasdeem'd of heavenly birth,&c. &c."Sinceshamed full oftbylater lyreson earth,Mine, &c."Yet thereI've wander'dby the vaunted rill;and so on. So I have got rid of Dr. Lowth and'drunk' to boot, and very glad I am to say so. I have also sullenised the line as heretofore, and in short have been quite conformable."Pray write; you shall hear when I remove to Lancs. I have brought you and my friend Juvenal Hodgson upon my back, on the score of revelation. You are fervent, but he is quiteglowing; and if he take half the pains to save his own soul, which he volunteers to redeem mine, great will be his reward hereafter. I honour and thank you both, but am convinced by neither. Now for notes. Besides those I have sent, I shall send the observations on the Edinburgh Reviewer's remarks on the modern Greek, an Albanian song in the Albanian (not Greek) language, specimens of modern Greek from their New Testament, a comedy of Goldoni's translated,one scene, a prospectus of a friend's book, and perhaps a song or two,allin Romaic, besides their Pater Noster; so there will be enough, if not too much, with what I have already sent. Have you received the 'Noetes Atticæ?' I sent also an annotation on Portugal. Hobhouse is also forthcoming."
"Newstead Abbey, Sept. 21. 1811.
"I have shown my respect for your suggestions by adopting them; but I have made many alterations in the first proof, over and above; as, for example:
"Oh Thou, inHellasdeem'd of heavenly birth,&c. &c."Sinceshamed full oftbylater lyreson earth,Mine, &c."Yet thereI've wander'dby the vaunted rill;
"Oh Thou, inHellasdeem'd of heavenly birth,&c. &c.
"Sinceshamed full oftbylater lyreson earth,Mine, &c.
"Yet thereI've wander'dby the vaunted rill;
and so on. So I have got rid of Dr. Lowth and'drunk' to boot, and very glad I am to say so. I have also sullenised the line as heretofore, and in short have been quite conformable.
"Pray write; you shall hear when I remove to Lancs. I have brought you and my friend Juvenal Hodgson upon my back, on the score of revelation. You are fervent, but he is quiteglowing; and if he take half the pains to save his own soul, which he volunteers to redeem mine, great will be his reward hereafter. I honour and thank you both, but am convinced by neither. Now for notes. Besides those I have sent, I shall send the observations on the Edinburgh Reviewer's remarks on the modern Greek, an Albanian song in the Albanian (not Greek) language, specimens of modern Greek from their New Testament, a comedy of Goldoni's translated,one scene, a prospectus of a friend's book, and perhaps a song or two,allin Romaic, besides their Pater Noster; so there will be enough, if not too much, with what I have already sent. Have you received the 'Noetes Atticæ?' I sent also an annotation on Portugal. Hobhouse is also forthcoming."
LETTER 70. TO MR. DALLAS.
"Newstead Abbey, Sept. 23. 1811."Lisboais the Portuguese word, consequently the very best. Ulissipont is pedantic; and as I haveHellasandErosnot long before, there would be something like an affectation of Greek terms, which I wish to avoid, since I shall have a perilousquantity ofmodernGreek in my notes, as specimens of the tongue; therefore Lisboa may keep its place. You are right about the 'Hints;' they must not precede the 'Romaunt;' but Cawthorn will be savage if they don't; however, keepthemback, andhimingood humour, if we can, but do not let him publish."I have adopted, I believe, most of your suggestions, but 'Lisboa' will be an exception to prove the rule. I have sent a quantity of notes, and shall continue; but pray let them be copied; no devil can read my hand. By the by, I do not mean to exchange the ninth verse of the 'Good Night.' I have no reason to suppose my dog better than his brother brutes, mankind; andArguswe know to be a fable. The 'Cosmopolite' was an acquisition abroad. I do not believe it is to be found in England. It is an amusing little volume, and full of French flippancy. I read, though I do not speak the language."Iwillbe angry with Murray. It was a book-selling, back shop, Paternoster-row, paltry proceeding, and if the experiment had turned out as it deserved, I would have raised all Fleet Street, and borrowed the giant's staff from St. Dunstan's church, to immolate the betrayer of trust. I have written to him as he never was written to before by an author, I'll be sworn, and I hope you will amplify my wrath, till it has an effect upon him. You tell me always you have much to write about. Write it, but let us drop metaphysics;—on that point we shall never agree. I am dull and drowsy, as usual.I do nothing, and even that nothing fatigues me. Adieu."
"Newstead Abbey, Sept. 23. 1811.
"Lisboais the Portuguese word, consequently the very best. Ulissipont is pedantic; and as I haveHellasandErosnot long before, there would be something like an affectation of Greek terms, which I wish to avoid, since I shall have a perilousquantity ofmodernGreek in my notes, as specimens of the tongue; therefore Lisboa may keep its place. You are right about the 'Hints;' they must not precede the 'Romaunt;' but Cawthorn will be savage if they don't; however, keepthemback, andhimingood humour, if we can, but do not let him publish.
"I have adopted, I believe, most of your suggestions, but 'Lisboa' will be an exception to prove the rule. I have sent a quantity of notes, and shall continue; but pray let them be copied; no devil can read my hand. By the by, I do not mean to exchange the ninth verse of the 'Good Night.' I have no reason to suppose my dog better than his brother brutes, mankind; andArguswe know to be a fable. The 'Cosmopolite' was an acquisition abroad. I do not believe it is to be found in England. It is an amusing little volume, and full of French flippancy. I read, though I do not speak the language.
"Iwillbe angry with Murray. It was a book-selling, back shop, Paternoster-row, paltry proceeding, and if the experiment had turned out as it deserved, I would have raised all Fleet Street, and borrowed the giant's staff from St. Dunstan's church, to immolate the betrayer of trust. I have written to him as he never was written to before by an author, I'll be sworn, and I hope you will amplify my wrath, till it has an effect upon him. You tell me always you have much to write about. Write it, but let us drop metaphysics;—on that point we shall never agree. I am dull and drowsy, as usual.I do nothing, and even that nothing fatigues me. Adieu."
LETTER 71. TO MR. DALLAS.
"Newstead Abbey, Oct. 11. 1811."I have returned from Lancs., and ascertained that my property there may be made very valuable, but various circumstances very much circumscribe my exertions at present. I shall be in town on business in the beginning of November, and perhaps at Cambridge before the end of this month; but of my movements you shall be regularly apprised. Your objections I have in part done away by alterations, which I hope will suffice; and I have sent two or three additional stanzas for both 'Fyttas' I have been again shocked with a death, and have lost one very dear to me in happier times; but 'I have almost forgot the taste of grief,' and 'supped full of horrors' till I have become callous, nor have I a tear left for an event which, five years ago, would have bowed down my head to the earth. It seems as though I were to experience in my youth the greatest misery of age. My friends fall around me, and I shall be left a lonely tree before I am withered. Other men can always take refuge in their families; I have no resource but my own reflections, and they present no prospect here or hereafter, except the selfish satisfaction of surviving my betters. I am indeed very wretched, and you will excuse my saying so, as you know I am not apt to cant of sensibility."Instead of tiring yourself withmyconcerns, I should be glad to hearyourplans of retirement. I suppose you would not like to be wholly shut out of society? Now I know a large village, or small town, about twelve miles off, where your family would have the advantage of very genteel society, without the hazard of being annoyed by mercantile affluence; whereyouwould meet with men of information and independence; and where I have friends to whom I should be proud to introduce you. There are, besides, a coffee-room, assemblies, &c. &c., which bring people together. My mother had a house there some years, and I am well acquainted with the economy of Southwell, the name of this little commonwealth. Lastly, you will not be very remote from me; and though I am the very worst companion for young people in the world, this objection would not apply toyou, whom I could see frequently. Your expenses, too, would be such as best suit your inclinations, more or less, as you thought proper; but very little would be requisite to enable you to enter into all the gaieties of a country life. You could be as quiet or bustling as you liked, and certainly as well situated as on the lakes of Cumberland, unless you have a particular wish to bepicturesque."Pray, is your Ionian friend in town? You have promised me an introduction.—You mention having consulted some friend on the MSS.—Is not this contrary to our usual way? Instruct Mr. Murray not to allow his shopman to call the work 'Child of Harrow's Pilgrimage!!!!!' as he has done to someof my astonished friends, who wrote to enquire after my sanity on the occasion, as well they might. I have heard nothing of Murray, whom I scolded heartily. Must I write more notes?—Are there not enough?—Cawthorn must be kept back with the 'Hints.'—I hope he is getting on with Hobhouse's quarto. Good evening. Yours ever," &c.
"Newstead Abbey, Oct. 11. 1811.
"I have returned from Lancs., and ascertained that my property there may be made very valuable, but various circumstances very much circumscribe my exertions at present. I shall be in town on business in the beginning of November, and perhaps at Cambridge before the end of this month; but of my movements you shall be regularly apprised. Your objections I have in part done away by alterations, which I hope will suffice; and I have sent two or three additional stanzas for both 'Fyttas' I have been again shocked with a death, and have lost one very dear to me in happier times; but 'I have almost forgot the taste of grief,' and 'supped full of horrors' till I have become callous, nor have I a tear left for an event which, five years ago, would have bowed down my head to the earth. It seems as though I were to experience in my youth the greatest misery of age. My friends fall around me, and I shall be left a lonely tree before I am withered. Other men can always take refuge in their families; I have no resource but my own reflections, and they present no prospect here or hereafter, except the selfish satisfaction of surviving my betters. I am indeed very wretched, and you will excuse my saying so, as you know I am not apt to cant of sensibility.
"Instead of tiring yourself withmyconcerns, I should be glad to hearyourplans of retirement. I suppose you would not like to be wholly shut out of society? Now I know a large village, or small town, about twelve miles off, where your family would have the advantage of very genteel society, without the hazard of being annoyed by mercantile affluence; whereyouwould meet with men of information and independence; and where I have friends to whom I should be proud to introduce you. There are, besides, a coffee-room, assemblies, &c. &c., which bring people together. My mother had a house there some years, and I am well acquainted with the economy of Southwell, the name of this little commonwealth. Lastly, you will not be very remote from me; and though I am the very worst companion for young people in the world, this objection would not apply toyou, whom I could see frequently. Your expenses, too, would be such as best suit your inclinations, more or less, as you thought proper; but very little would be requisite to enable you to enter into all the gaieties of a country life. You could be as quiet or bustling as you liked, and certainly as well situated as on the lakes of Cumberland, unless you have a particular wish to bepicturesque.
"Pray, is your Ionian friend in town? You have promised me an introduction.—You mention having consulted some friend on the MSS.—Is not this contrary to our usual way? Instruct Mr. Murray not to allow his shopman to call the work 'Child of Harrow's Pilgrimage!!!!!' as he has done to someof my astonished friends, who wrote to enquire after my sanity on the occasion, as well they might. I have heard nothing of Murray, whom I scolded heartily. Must I write more notes?—Are there not enough?—Cawthorn must be kept back with the 'Hints.'—I hope he is getting on with Hobhouse's quarto. Good evening. Yours ever," &c.
Of the same date with this melancholy letter are the following verses, never before printed, which he wrote in answer to some lines received from a friend, exhorting him to be cheerful, and to "banish care." They will show with what gloomy fidelity, even while under the pressure of recent sorrow, he reverted to the disappointment of his early affection, as the chief source of all his sufferings and errors, present and to come.
"Newstead Abbey, October 11. 1811."'Oh! banish care'—such ever beThe motto ofthyrevelry!Perchance ofmine, when wassail nightsRenew those riotous delights,Wherewith the children of DespairLull the lone heart, and 'banish care.'But not in morn's reflecting hour,When present, past, and future lower,When all I loved is changed or gone,Mock with such taunts the woes of one,Whose every thought—but let them pass—Thou know'st I am not what I was.But, above all, if thou wouldst holdPlace in a heart that ne'er was cold,By all the powers that men revere,By all unto thy bosom dear,Thy joys below, thy hopes above,Speak—speak of any thing but love."'Twere long to tell, and vain to hearThe tale of one who scorns a tear;And there is little in that taleWhich better bosoms would bewail.But mine has suffer'd more than well'Twould suit Philosophy to tell.I've seen my bride another's bride,—Have seen her seated by his side,—Have seen the infant which she bore,Wear the sweet smile the mother wore,When she and I in youth have smiledAs fond and faultless as her child;—Have seen her eyes, in cold disdain,Ask if I felt no secret pain.And I have acted well my part,And made my cheek belie my heart,Return'd the freezing glance she gave,Yet felt the whilethatwoman's slave;—Have kiss'd, as if without design,The babe which ought to have been mine,And show'd, alas! in each caressTime had not made me love the less."But let this pass—I'll whine no more.Nor seek again an eastern shore;The world befits a busy brain,—I'll hie me to its haunts again.But if, in some succeeding year,When Britain's 'May is in the sere,'Thou hear'st of one, whose deepening crimesSuit with the sablest of the times,Of one, whom Love nor Pity sways,Nor hope of fame, nor good men's praise,One, who in stern Ambition's pride,Perchance not Blood shall turn aside,One rank'd in some recording pageWith the worst anarchs of the age,Him wilt thouknow—and,knowing, pause,Nor with theeffectforget the cause."
"Newstead Abbey, October 11. 1811.
"'Oh! banish care'—such ever beThe motto ofthyrevelry!Perchance ofmine, when wassail nightsRenew those riotous delights,Wherewith the children of DespairLull the lone heart, and 'banish care.'But not in morn's reflecting hour,When present, past, and future lower,When all I loved is changed or gone,Mock with such taunts the woes of one,Whose every thought—but let them pass—Thou know'st I am not what I was.But, above all, if thou wouldst holdPlace in a heart that ne'er was cold,By all the powers that men revere,By all unto thy bosom dear,Thy joys below, thy hopes above,Speak—speak of any thing but love."'Twere long to tell, and vain to hearThe tale of one who scorns a tear;And there is little in that taleWhich better bosoms would bewail.But mine has suffer'd more than well'Twould suit Philosophy to tell.I've seen my bride another's bride,—Have seen her seated by his side,—Have seen the infant which she bore,Wear the sweet smile the mother wore,When she and I in youth have smiledAs fond and faultless as her child;—Have seen her eyes, in cold disdain,Ask if I felt no secret pain.And I have acted well my part,And made my cheek belie my heart,Return'd the freezing glance she gave,Yet felt the whilethatwoman's slave;—Have kiss'd, as if without design,The babe which ought to have been mine,And show'd, alas! in each caressTime had not made me love the less."But let this pass—I'll whine no more.Nor seek again an eastern shore;The world befits a busy brain,—I'll hie me to its haunts again.But if, in some succeeding year,When Britain's 'May is in the sere,'Thou hear'st of one, whose deepening crimesSuit with the sablest of the times,Of one, whom Love nor Pity sways,Nor hope of fame, nor good men's praise,One, who in stern Ambition's pride,Perchance not Blood shall turn aside,One rank'd in some recording pageWith the worst anarchs of the age,Him wilt thouknow—and,knowing, pause,Nor with theeffectforget the cause."
"'Oh! banish care'—such ever beThe motto ofthyrevelry!Perchance ofmine, when wassail nightsRenew those riotous delights,Wherewith the children of DespairLull the lone heart, and 'banish care.'But not in morn's reflecting hour,When present, past, and future lower,When all I loved is changed or gone,Mock with such taunts the woes of one,Whose every thought—but let them pass—Thou know'st I am not what I was.But, above all, if thou wouldst holdPlace in a heart that ne'er was cold,By all the powers that men revere,By all unto thy bosom dear,Thy joys below, thy hopes above,Speak—speak of any thing but love.
"'Twere long to tell, and vain to hearThe tale of one who scorns a tear;And there is little in that taleWhich better bosoms would bewail.But mine has suffer'd more than well'Twould suit Philosophy to tell.I've seen my bride another's bride,—Have seen her seated by his side,—Have seen the infant which she bore,Wear the sweet smile the mother wore,When she and I in youth have smiledAs fond and faultless as her child;—Have seen her eyes, in cold disdain,Ask if I felt no secret pain.And I have acted well my part,And made my cheek belie my heart,Return'd the freezing glance she gave,Yet felt the whilethatwoman's slave;—Have kiss'd, as if without design,The babe which ought to have been mine,And show'd, alas! in each caressTime had not made me love the less.
"But let this pass—I'll whine no more.Nor seek again an eastern shore;The world befits a busy brain,—I'll hie me to its haunts again.But if, in some succeeding year,When Britain's 'May is in the sere,'Thou hear'st of one, whose deepening crimesSuit with the sablest of the times,Of one, whom Love nor Pity sways,Nor hope of fame, nor good men's praise,One, who in stern Ambition's pride,Perchance not Blood shall turn aside,One rank'd in some recording pageWith the worst anarchs of the age,Him wilt thouknow—and,knowing, pause,Nor with theeffectforget the cause."
The anticipations of his own future career in these concluding lines are of a nature, it must be owned, to awaken more of horror than of interest, were we not prepared, by so many instances of his exaggeration in this respect, not to be startled at any lengths to which the spirit of self-libelling would carry him. It seemed as if, with the power of painting fierce and gloomy personages, he had also the ambition to be, himself, the dark "sublime he drew," and that, in his fondness for the delineation of heroic crime, he endeavoured to fancy, where he could not find, in his own character, fit subjects for his pencil.
It was about the time when he was thus bitterly feeling and expressing the blight which his heart had suffered from arealobject of affection, that his poems on the death of animaginaryone, "Thyrza," were written;—nor is it any wonder, when we consider the peculiar circumstances under which these beautiful effusions flowed from his fancy, that of all his strains of pathos, they should be the most touching and most pure. They were, indeed, the essence, the abstract spirit, as it were, of many griefs;—a confluence of sad thoughts from manysources of sorrow, refined and warmed in their passage through his fancy, and forming thus one deep reservoir of mournful feeling. In retracing the happy hours he had known with the friends now lost, all the ardent tenderness of his youth came back upon him. His school-sports with the favourites of his boyhood, Wingfield and Tattersall,—his summer days with Long[28], and those evenings of music and romance which he had dreamed away in the society of his adopted brother, Eddlestone,—all these recollections of the young and dead now came to mingle themselves in his mind with the image of her who, though living, was, for him, as much lost as they, and diffused that general feeling of sadness and fondness through his soul, which found a vent in these poems. No friendship, however warm, could have inspired sorrow so passionate; as no love, however pure, could have kept passion so chastened. It was the blending of the two affections, in his memory and imagination, that thus gave birth to an ideal object combining the best features of both, and drew from him these saddest and tenderest of love-poems, in which we find all the depth and intensity of real feeling touched over with such a light as no reality ever wore.
The following letter gives some further account of the course of his thoughts and pursuits at this period:—
LETTER 72. TO MR. HODGSON.
"Newstead Abbey, Oct. 13. 1811."You will begin to deem me a most liberal correspondent; but as my letters are free, you will overlook their frequency. I have sent you answers in prose and verse[29]to all your late communications, and though I am invading your ease again, I don't know why, or what to put down that you are not acquainted with already. I am growing nervous (how you will laugh!)—but it is true,—really, wretchedly, ridiculously, fine-ladicallynervous. Your climate kills me; I can neither read, write, nor amuse myself, or any one else. My days are listless, and my nights restless; I have very seldom any society, and when I have, I run out of it. At 'this present writing,' there are in the next room three ladies, and I have stolen away to write this grumbling letter.—I don't know that I sha'n't end with insanity, for I find a want of method in arranging my thoughts that perplexes me strangely; but this looks more like silliness than madness, as Scrope Davies would facetiously remark in his consoling manner. I must try the hartshorn of your company; and a session of Parliament would suit me well,—any thing to cure me of conjugating the accursed verb 'ennuyer.'"When shall you be at Cambridge? You have hinted, I think, that your friend Bland is returned from Holland. I have always had a great respectfor his talents, and for all that I have heard of his character; but of me, I believe he knows nothing, except that he heard my sixth form repetitions ten months together, at the average of two lines a morning, and those never perfect. I remembered him and his 'Slaves' as I passed between Capes Matapan, St. Angelo, and his Isle of Ceriga, and I always bewailed the absence of the Anthology. I suppose he will now translate Vondel, the Dutch Shakspeare, and 'Gysbert van Amstel' will easily be accommodated to our stage in its present state; and I presume he saw the Dutch poem, where the love of Pyramus and Thisbe is compared to thepassionofChrist; also the love ofLuciferfor Eve, and other varieties of Low Country literature. No doubt you will think me crazed to talk of such things, but they are all in black and white and good repute on the banks of every canal from Amsterdam to Alkmaar."Yours ever, B."
"Newstead Abbey, Oct. 13. 1811.
"You will begin to deem me a most liberal correspondent; but as my letters are free, you will overlook their frequency. I have sent you answers in prose and verse[29]to all your late communications, and though I am invading your ease again, I don't know why, or what to put down that you are not acquainted with already. I am growing nervous (how you will laugh!)—but it is true,—really, wretchedly, ridiculously, fine-ladicallynervous. Your climate kills me; I can neither read, write, nor amuse myself, or any one else. My days are listless, and my nights restless; I have very seldom any society, and when I have, I run out of it. At 'this present writing,' there are in the next room three ladies, and I have stolen away to write this grumbling letter.—I don't know that I sha'n't end with insanity, for I find a want of method in arranging my thoughts that perplexes me strangely; but this looks more like silliness than madness, as Scrope Davies would facetiously remark in his consoling manner. I must try the hartshorn of your company; and a session of Parliament would suit me well,—any thing to cure me of conjugating the accursed verb 'ennuyer.'
"When shall you be at Cambridge? You have hinted, I think, that your friend Bland is returned from Holland. I have always had a great respectfor his talents, and for all that I have heard of his character; but of me, I believe he knows nothing, except that he heard my sixth form repetitions ten months together, at the average of two lines a morning, and those never perfect. I remembered him and his 'Slaves' as I passed between Capes Matapan, St. Angelo, and his Isle of Ceriga, and I always bewailed the absence of the Anthology. I suppose he will now translate Vondel, the Dutch Shakspeare, and 'Gysbert van Amstel' will easily be accommodated to our stage in its present state; and I presume he saw the Dutch poem, where the love of Pyramus and Thisbe is compared to thepassionofChrist; also the love ofLuciferfor Eve, and other varieties of Low Country literature. No doubt you will think me crazed to talk of such things, but they are all in black and white and good repute on the banks of every canal from Amsterdam to Alkmaar.
"Yours ever, B."
"My poesy is in the hands of its various publishers; but the 'Hints from Horace,' (to which I have subjoined some savage lines on Methodism, and ferocious notes on the vanity of the triple Editory of the Edin. Annual Register,) my 'Hints,' I say, stand still, and why?—I have not a friend in the world (but you and Drury) who can construe Horace's Latin or my English well enough to adjust them for the press, or to correct the proofs in a grammatical way. So that, unless you have bowels when you return to town (I am too far off todo it for myself), this ineffable work will be lost to the world for—I don't know how manyweeks."'Childe Harold's Pilgrimage' must wait tillMurray'sis finished. He is making a tour in Middlesex, and is to return soon, when high matter may be expected. He wants to have it in quarto, which is a cursed unsaleable size; but it is pestilent long, and one must obey one's bookseller. I trust Murray will pass the Paddington Canal without being seduced by Payne and Mackinlay's example,—I say Payne and Mackinlay, supposing that the partnership held good. Drury, the villain, has not written to me; 'I am never (as Mrs. Lumpkin says to Tony) to be gratified with the monster's dear wild notes.'"So you are going (going indeed!) into orders. You must make your peace with the Eclectic Reviewers—they accuse you of impiety, I fear, with injustice. Demetrius, the 'Sieger of Cities,' is here, with 'Gilpin Homer.' The painter[30]is not necessary, as the portraits he already painted are (by anticipation) very like the new animals.—Write, and send me your 'Love Song'—but I want 'paulo majora' from you. Make a dash before you are a deacon, and try adrypublisher."Yours always, B."
"My poesy is in the hands of its various publishers; but the 'Hints from Horace,' (to which I have subjoined some savage lines on Methodism, and ferocious notes on the vanity of the triple Editory of the Edin. Annual Register,) my 'Hints,' I say, stand still, and why?—I have not a friend in the world (but you and Drury) who can construe Horace's Latin or my English well enough to adjust them for the press, or to correct the proofs in a grammatical way. So that, unless you have bowels when you return to town (I am too far off todo it for myself), this ineffable work will be lost to the world for—I don't know how manyweeks.
"'Childe Harold's Pilgrimage' must wait tillMurray'sis finished. He is making a tour in Middlesex, and is to return soon, when high matter may be expected. He wants to have it in quarto, which is a cursed unsaleable size; but it is pestilent long, and one must obey one's bookseller. I trust Murray will pass the Paddington Canal without being seduced by Payne and Mackinlay's example,—I say Payne and Mackinlay, supposing that the partnership held good. Drury, the villain, has not written to me; 'I am never (as Mrs. Lumpkin says to Tony) to be gratified with the monster's dear wild notes.'
"So you are going (going indeed!) into orders. You must make your peace with the Eclectic Reviewers—they accuse you of impiety, I fear, with injustice. Demetrius, the 'Sieger of Cities,' is here, with 'Gilpin Homer.' The painter[30]is not necessary, as the portraits he already painted are (by anticipation) very like the new animals.—Write, and send me your 'Love Song'—but I want 'paulo majora' from you. Make a dash before you are a deacon, and try adrypublisher.
"Yours always, B."
It was at this period that I first had the happiness of seeing and becoming acquainted with Lord Byron.The correspondence in which our acquaintance originated is, in a high degree, illustrative of the frank manliness of his character; and as it was begun on my side, some egotism must be tolerated in the detail which I have to give of the circumstances that led to it. So far back as the year 1806, on the occasion of a meeting which took place at Chalk Farm between Mr. Jeffrey and myself, a good deal of ridicule and raillery, founded on a false representation of what occurred before the magistrates at Bow Street, appeared in almost all the public prints. In consequence of this, I was induced to address a letter to the Editor of one of the Journals, contradicting the falsehood that had been circulated, and stating briefly the real circumstances of the case. For some time my letter seemed to produce the intended effect,—but, unluckily, the original story was too tempting a theme for humour and sarcasm to be so easily superseded by mere matter of fact. Accordingly, after a little time, whenever the subject was publicly alluded to,—more especially by those who were at all "willing to wound,"—the old falsehood was, for the sake of its ready sting, revived.
In the year 1809, on the first appearance of "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers," I found the author, who was then generally understood to be Lord Byron, not only jesting on the subject—and with sufficiently provoking pleasantry and cleverness—in his verse, but giving also, in the more responsible form of a note, an outline of the transaction in accordance with the original misreport, and,therefore, in direct contradiction to my published statement. Still, as the Satire was anonymous and unacknowledged, I did not feel that I was, in any way, called upon to notice it, and therefore dismissed the matter entirely from my mind. In the summer of the same year appeared the Second Edition of the work, with Lord Byron's name prefixed to it. I was, at the time, in Ireland, and but little in the way of literary society; and it so happened that some months passed away before the appearance of this new edition was known to me. Immediately on being apprised of it,—the offence now assuming a different form,—I addressed the following letter to Lord Byron, and, transmitting it to a friend in London, requested that he would have it delivered into his Lordship's hands.[31]
"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 givento 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."
"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 givento 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."
In the course of a week, the friend to whom I intrusted this letter wrote to inform me that Lord Byron had, as he learned on enquiring of his publisher, gone abroad immediately on the publication of his Second Edition; but that my letter had been placed in the hands of a gentleman, named Hodgson, who had undertaken to forward it carefully to his Lordship. Though the latter step was not exactly what I could have wished, I thought it as well, on the whole, to let my letter take its chance, and again postponed all consideration of the matter.
During the interval of a year and a half which elapsed before Lord Byron's return, I had taken upon myself obligations, both as husband and father, which make most men,—and especially those who have nothing to bequeath,—less willingto expose themselves unnecessarily to danger. On hearing, therefore, of the arrival of the noble traveller from Greece, though still thinking it due to myself to follow up my first request of an explanation, I resolved, in prosecuting that object, to adopt such a tone of conciliation as should not only prove my sincere desire of a pacific result, but show the entire freedom from any angry or resentful feeling with which I took the step. The death of Mrs. Byron, for some time, delayed my purpose. But as soon after that event as was consistent with decorum, I addressed a letter to Lord Byron, in which, referring to my former communication, and expressing some doubts as to its having ever reached him, I re-stated, in pretty nearly the same words, the nature of the insult, which, as it appeared to me, the passage in his note was calculated to convey. "It is now useless," I continued, "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 thatuneasiness, 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 didnotfeel, 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.[32]
To this letter, Lord Byron returned the following answer:—
LETTER 73. TO MR. MOORE.
"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,youwere certainlynotthe 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, 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, tomake the atonement you deem it necessary to require."I have the honour to be, Sir,"Your most obedient, humble servant,"BYRON."
"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,youwere certainlynotthe 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, 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, tomake the atonement you deem it necessary to require.
"I have the honour to be, Sir,
"Your most obedient, humble servant,
"BYRON."
In my reply to this, I commenced by saying that his Lordship's letter was, upon the whole, as satisfactory as I could expect. It contained all that, in the strictdiplomatiqueof explanation, could be required, namely,—that he had never seen the statement which I supposed him wilfully to have contradicted,—that he had no intention of bringing against me any charge of falsehood, and that the objectionable passage of his work was not levelled personally atme. This, I added, was all the explanation I had a right to expect, and I was, of course, satisfied with it.
I then entered into some detail relative to the transmission of my first letter from Dublin,—giving, as my reason for descending to these minute particulars, that I did not, I must confess, feel quite easy under the manner in which his Lordship had noticed the miscarriage of that first application to him.
My reply concluded thus:—"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," &c. &c.
On the following day I received the annexed rejoinder from Lord Byron:—
LETTER 74. TO MR. MOORE.
"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 stillunopened 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 notadvances, under such circumstances, to be misconstrued,—not, perhaps, by the person to whom they were addressed, but by others? Inmycase, 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 soauspiciousa beginning. I have the honour to be," &c.
"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 stillunopened 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 notadvances, under such circumstances, to be misconstrued,—not, perhaps, by the person to whom they were addressed, but by others? Inmycase, 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 soauspiciousa beginning. I have the honour to be," &c.
Somewhat piqued, I own, at the manner in which my efforts towards a more friendly understanding,—ill-timed as I confess them to have been,—were received, I hastened to close our correspondence by a short note, saying, that his Lordship had made me feel the imprudence I was guilty of, in wandering from the point immediately in discussion between us; and I should now, therefore, only add, that if, in my last letter, I had correctly stated the substance of his explanation, our correspondence might, from this moment, cease for ever, as with that explanation I declared myself satisfied.
This brief note drew immediately from Lord Byron the following frank and open-hearted reply:—
LETTER 75. TO MR. MOORE.
"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 havenowdeclared yourselfsatisfied, 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," &c.
"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 havenowdeclared yourselfsatisfied, 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," &c.
On receiving this letter, I went instantly to my friend, Mr. Rogers, who was, at that time, on a visit at Holland House, and, for the first time, informed him of the correspondence in which I had been engaged. With his usual readiness to oblige and serve, he proposed that the meeting between Lord Byron and myself should take place at his table, and requested of me to convey to the noble Lord his wish, that he would do him the honour of naming some day for that purpose. The following is Lord Byron's answer to the note which I then wrote:—
LETTER 76. TO MR. 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 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."
"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 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."
It can hardly, I think, be necessary to call the reader's attention to the good sense, self-possession, and frankness, of these letters of Lord Byron. I had placed him,—by the somewhat national confusion which I had made of the boundaries of peace and war, of hostility and friendship,—in a position which, ignorant as he was of the character of the person who addressed him, it required all the watchfulness of his sense of honour to guard from surprise or snare. Hence, the judicious reserve with which he abstained from noticing my advances towards acquaintance, till he should have ascertained exactlywhether the explanation which he was willing to give would be such as his correspondent would be satisfied to receive. The moment he was set at rest on this point, the frankness of his nature displayed itself; and the disregard of all further mediation or etiquette with which he at once professed himself ready to meet me, "when, where, and how" I pleased, showed that he could be as pliant and confidingaftersuch an understanding, as he had been judiciously reserved and punctiliousbeforeit.
Such did I find Lord Byron, on my first experience of him; and such,—so open and manly-minded,—did I find him to the last.
It was, at first, intended by Mr. Rogers that his company at dinner should not extend beyond Lord Byron and myself; but Mr. Thomas Campbell, having called upon our host that morning, was invited to join the party, and consented. Such a meeting could not be otherwise than interesting to us all. It was the first time that Lord Byron was ever seen by any of his three companions; while he, on his side, for the first time, found himself in the society of persons, whose names had been associated with his first literary dreams, and totwo[33]of whom he looked up with that tributary admirationwhich youthful genius is ever ready to pay its precursors.
Among the impressions which this meeting left upon me, what I chiefly remember to have remarked was 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.
As we had none of us been apprised of his peculiarities with respect to food, the embarrassment of our host was not a little, on discovering that there was nothing upon the table which his noble guest could eat or drink. Neither meat, fish, nor wine, would Lord Byron touch; and of biscuits and soda-water, which he asked for, there had been, unluckily, no provision. He professed, however, to be equally well pleased with potatoes and vinegar; and of these meagre materials contrived to make rather a hearty dinner.
I shall now resume the series of his correspondence with other friends.
LETTER 77. TO MR. HARNESS.
"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[34]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 Ihad 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 thatwere."Do read mathematics.—I should thinkX plus Yat least as amusing as the Curse of Kehama, and much more intelligible. Master S.'s poemsare, in fact, what parallel lines might be—viz. prolongedad infinitumwithout meeting any thing half so absurd as themselves."What news, what news? Queen Oreaca,What news of scribblers five?S——, W——, C——e, L——d, and L——e?—All damn'd, though yet alive.C——e is lecturing. 'Many an old fool,' said Hannibal to some such lecturer, 'but such as this, never.'"Ever yours, &c."
"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[34]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 Ihad known it earliest. I have not changed in all my ramblings,—Harrow, and, of course, yourself never left me, and the
"'Dulces reminiscitur Argos'
"'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 thatwere.
"Do read mathematics.—I should thinkX plus Yat least as amusing as the Curse of Kehama, and much more intelligible. Master S.'s poemsare, in fact, what parallel lines might be—viz. prolongedad infinitumwithout meeting any thing half so absurd as themselves.
"What news, what news? Queen Oreaca,What news of scribblers five?S——, W——, C——e, L——d, and L——e?—All damn'd, though yet alive.
"What news, what news? Queen Oreaca,What news of scribblers five?S——, W——, C——e, L——d, and L——e?—All damn'd, though yet alive.
C——e is lecturing. 'Many an old fool,' said Hannibal to some such lecturer, 'but such as this, never.'
"Ever yours, &c."
LETTER 78. TO MR. 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, andwill 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 M * * e, 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. Rogers was present, and from him I derive the information. We are going to make a party to hear this Manichean of poesy. Pole is to marry Miss Long, and will be a very miserable dog for all that. The present ministers are to continue, and his Majestydoescontinue 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, the author of Figaro, who buried two wives and gained three law-suits 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., 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 bookabout the Bible, (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 yourpolitesseto 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[35]—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'm 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! He wants me to read the MS. (if he obtainsit), which I shall do with pleasure; but I should be very cautious in venturing an opinion on her whose Cecilia Dr. Johnson superintended.[36]If he lends it to me, I shall put it into the hands of Rogers and M * * e, 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," &c.
"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, andwill 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 M * * e, 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. Rogers was present, and from him I derive the information. We are going to make a party to hear this Manichean of poesy. Pole is to marry Miss Long, and will be a very miserable dog for all that. The present ministers are to continue, and his Majestydoescontinue 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, the author of Figaro, who buried two wives and gained three law-suits 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., 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 bookabout the Bible, (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 yourpolitesseto 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[35]—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'm 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! He wants me to read the MS. (if he obtainsit), which I shall do with pleasure; but I should be very cautious in venturing an opinion on her whose Cecilia Dr. Johnson superintended.[36]If he lends it to me, I shall put it into the hands of Rogers and M * * e, 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," &c.
LETTER 79. TO MR. HODGSON.