Chapter 6

"'Lumine Acon dextro, capta est Leonilla sinistro,Et potis est forma vincere uterque Deos:Blande puer, lumen quod habes concede sorori,Sic tu cæcus Amor, sic erit illa Venus.'

"Wilkes, with his ugliness, used to say that 'he was but a quarter of an hour behind the handsomest man in England;' and this vaunt of his is said not to have been disproved by circumstances. Swift, when neither young, nor handsome, nor rich, nor even amiable, inspired the two most extraordinary passions upon record, Vanessa's and Stella's.

"'Vanessa, aged scarce a score.Sighs for a gown offorty-four.'

He requited them bitterly; for he seems to have broken the heart of the one, and worn out that of the other; and he had his reward, for he died a solitary idiot in the hands of servants.

"For my own part, I am of the opinion of Pausanias, that success in love depends upon Fortune.'They particularly renounce Celestial Venus, into whose temple, &c. &c. &c. I remember, too, to have seen a building in Ægina in which there is a statue of Fortune, holding a horn of Amalthea; and near here there is a winged Love. The meaning of this is, that the success of men in love affairs depends more on the assistance of Fortune than the charms of beauty. I am persuaded, too, with Pindar (to whose opinion I submit in other particulars), that Fortune is one of the Fates, and that in a certain respect she is more powerful than her sisters.'—See Pausanias, Achaics, book vii. chap. 26 page 246. 'Taylor's Translation.'

"Grimm has a remark of the same kind on the different destinies of the younger Crebillon and Rousseau. The former writes a licentious novel, and a young English girl of some fortune and family (a Miss Strafford) runs away, and crosses the sea to marry him; while Rousseau, the most tender and passionate of lovers, is obliged to espouse his chambermaid. If I recollect rightly, this remark was also repeated in the Edinburgh Review of Grimm's Correspondence, seven or eight years ago.

"In regard 'to the strange mixture of indecent, and sometimesprofanelevity, which his conduct and languageoftenexhibited,' and which so much shocks the tone ofPope, than the tone of thetime. With the exception of the correspondence of Pope and his friends, not many private letters of the periodhave come down to us; but those, such as they are—a few scattered scraps from Farquhar and others—are more indecent and coarse than any thing in Pope's letters. The comedies of Congreve, Vanbrugh, Farquhar, Gibber, &c. which naturally attempted to represent the manners and conversation of private life, are decisive upon this point; as are also some of Steele's papers, and even Addison's. We all know what the conversation of Sir R. Walpole, for seventeen years the prime-minister of the country, was at his own table, and his excuse for his licentious language, viz. 'that every body understoodthat, but few could talk rationally upon less common topics.' The refinement of latter days,—which is perhaps the consequence of vice, which wishes to mask and soften itself, as much as of virtuous civilisation,—had not yet made sufficient progress. Even Johnson, in his 'London,' has two or three passages which cannot be read aloud, and Addison's 'Drummer' some indelicate allusions."

To the extract that follows I beg to call the particular attention of the reader. Those who at all remember the peculiar bitterness and violence with which the gentleman here commemorated assailed Lord Byron, at a crisis when both his heart and fame were most vulnerable, will, if I am not mistaken, feel a thrill of pleasurable admiration in reading these sentences, such as alone can convey any adequate notion of the proud, generous pleasure that must have been felt in writing them.

"Poor Scott is now no more. In the exercise of his vocation, he contrived at last to make himself the subject of a coroner's inquest. But he died like a brave man, and he lived an able one. I knew him personally, though slightly. Although several years my senior, we had been schoolfellows together at the 'grammar-schule' (or, as the Aberdonians pronounce it, 'squeel') of New Aberdeen. He did not behave to me quite handsomely in his capacity of editor a few years ago, but he was under no obligation to behave otherwise. The moment was too tempting for many friends and for all enemies. At a time when all my relations (save one) fell from me like leaves from the tree in autumn winds, and my few friends became still fewer—when the whole periodical press (I mean the daily and weekly,nottheliterarypress) was let loose against me in every shape of reproach, with the two strange exceptions (from their usual opposition) of 'The Courier' and 'The Examiner,'—the paper of which Scott had the direction, was neither the last, nor the least vituperative. Two years ago I met him at Venice, when he was bowed in griefs by the loss of his son, and had known, by experience, the bitterness of domestic privation. He was then earnest with me to return to England; and on my telling him, with a smile, that he was once of a different opinion, he replied to me,'that he and others had been greatly misled; and that some pains, and rather extraordinary means, had been taken to excite them. Scott is no more, but there are more than one living who were present at this dialogue. He was a manof very considerable talents, and of great acquirements. He had made his way, as a literary character, with high success, and in a few years. Poor fellow! I recollect his joy at some appointment which he had obtained, or was to obtain, through Sir James Mackintosh, and which prevented the further extension (unless by a rapid run to Rome) of his travels in Italy. I little thought to what it would conduct him. Peace be with him! and may all such other faults as are inevitable to humanity be as readily forgiven him, as the little injury which he had done to one who respected his talents and regrets his loss."

In reference to some complaints made by Mr. Bowles, in his Pamphlet, of a charge of "hypochondriacism" which he supposed to have been brought against him by his assailant, Mr. Gilchrist, the noble writer thus proceeds:—

"I cannot conceive a man in perfect health being much affected by such a charge, because his complexion and conduct must amply refute it. But were it true, to what does it amount?—to an impeachment of a liver complaint. 'I will tell it to the world,' exclaimed the learned Smelfungus: 'you had better (said I) tell it to your physician. 'There is nothing dishonourable in such a disorder, which is more peculiarly the malady of students. It has been the complaint of the good and the wise and the witty, and even of the gay. Regnard, the author of the last French comedy after Molière, was atrabilarious,and Molière himself saturnine. Dr. Johnson, Gray, and Burns, were all more or less affected by it occasionally. It was the prelude to the more awful malady of Collins, Cowper, Swift, and Smart; but it by no means follows that a partial affliction of this disorder is to terminate like theirs. But even were it so,

"'Nor best, nor wisest, are exempt from thee;Folly—Folly's only free.' PENROSE.

"Mendelsohn and Bayle were at times so overcome with this depression as to be obliged to recur to seeing 'puppet-shows,' and 'counting tiles upon the opposite houses,' to divert themselves. Dr. Johnson, at times, 'would have given a limb to recover his spirits.'

"In page 14. we have a large assertion, that 'the Eloisa alone is sufficient to convict him (Pope) ofgross licentiousness.' Thus, out it comes at last—Mr. B. does accuse Pope of 'gross licentiousness,' and grounds the charge upon a poem. Thelicentiousnessis a 'grand peut-être,' according to the turn of the times being:—thegrossnessI deny. On the contrary, I do believe that such a subject never was, nor ever could be, treated by any poet with so much delicacy mingled with, at the same time, such true and intense passion. Is the 'Atys' of Catulluslicentious? No, nor even gross; and yet Catullus is often a coarse writer. The subject is nearly the same, except that Atys was the suicide of his manhood, and Abelard the victim.

"The 'licentiousness' of the story wasnotPope's,—it was a fact. All that it had of gross he has softened; all that it had of indelicate he has purified; all that it had of passionate he has beautified; all that it had of holy he has hallowed. Mr. Campbell has admirably marked this in a few words (I quote from memory), in drawing the distinction between Pope and Dryden, and pointing out where Dryden was wanting. 'I fear,' says he, 'that had the subject of 'Eloisa' fallen into his (Dryden's) hands, that he would have given us but acoarsedraft of her passion.' Never was the delicacy of Pope so much shown as in this poem. With the facts and the letters of 'Eloisa' he has done what no other mind but that of the best and purest of poets could have accomplished with such materials. Ovid, Sappho (in the Ode called hers)—all that we have of ancient, all that we have of modern poetry, sinks into nothing compared with him in this production.

"Let us hear no more of this trash about 'licentiousness.' Is not 'Anacreon' taught in our schools?—translated, praised, and edited? and are the English schools or the English women the more corrupt for all this? When you have thrown the ancients into the fire, it will be time to denounce the moderns. 'Licentiousness!'—there is more real mischief and sapping licentiousness in a single French prose novel, in a Moravian hymn, or a German comedy, than in all the actual poetry that ever was penned or poured forth since the rhapsodies of Orpheus. The sentimental anatomy of Rousseau and Mad. de S. are far more formidable than any quantity of verse. They are so, because they sap the principles byreasoningupon thepassions; whereas poetry is in itself passion, and does not systematise. It assails, but does not argue; it may be wrong, but it does not assume pretensions to optimism."

Mr. Bowles having, in his pamphlet, complained of some anonymous communication which he had received, Lord Byron thus comments on the circumstance.

"I agree with Mr. B. that the intention was to annoy him; but I fear that this was answered by his notice of the reception of the criticism. An anonymous writer has but one means of knowing the effect of his attack. In this he has the superiority over the viper; he knows that his poison has taken effect when he hears the victim cry;—the adder isdeaf. The best reply to an anonymous intimation is to take no notice directly nor indirectly. I wish Mr. B. could see only one or two of the thousand which I have received in the course of a literary life, which, though begun early, has not yet extended to a third part of his existence as an author. I speak ofliterarylife only;—were I to addpersonal, I might double the amount ofanonymousletters. If he could but see the violence, the threats, the absurdity of the whole thing, he would laugh, and so should I, and thus be both gainers.

"To keep up the farce, within the last month of this present writing (1821), I have had my life threatened in the same way which menaced Mr. B.'s fame, excepting that the anonymous denunciation was addressed to the Cardinal Legate of Romagna, instead of to * * * *. I append the menace in all its barbaric but literal Italian, that Mr. B. may beconvinced; and as this is the only 'promise to pay' which the Italians ever keep, so my person has been at least as much exposed to 'a shot in the gloaming' from 'John Heatherblutter' (see Waverley), as ever Mr. B.'s glory was from an editor. I am, nevertheless, on horseback and lonely for some hours (oneof them twilight) in the forest daily; and this, because it was my 'custom in the afternoon,' and that I believe if the tyrant cannot escape amidst his guards (should it be so written), so the humbler individual would find precautions useless."

The following just tribute to my Reverend Friend's merits as a poet I have peculiar pleasure in extracting:—

"Mr. Bowles has no reason to 'succumb' but to Mr. Bowles. As a poet, the author of 'The Missionary' may compete with the foremost of his contemporaries. Let it be recollected, that all my previous opinions of Mr. Bowles s poetry werewrittenlong before the publication of hislastand best poem; and that a poet's last poem should be his best, is his highest praise. But, however, he may duly and honorably rank with his living rivals," &c. &c. &c.

Among various Addenda for this pamphlet, sent at different times to Mr. Murray, I find the following curious passages:—

"It is worthy of remark that, after all this outcry about 'in-doornature' and 'artificial images,' Pope was the principal inventor of that boast of the English,Modern Gardening. He divides this honour with Milton. Hear Warton:—'It hence appearsthat thisenchantingart of modern gardening, in which this kingdom claims a preference over every nation in Europe, chiefly owesits originand its improvements to two great poets, Milton andPope.'

"Walpole (no friend to Pope) asserts that Pope formedKent'staste, and that Kent was the artist to whom the English are chiefly indebted for diffusing 'a taste in laying out grounds.' The design of the Prince of Wales's garden was copied fromPope'sat Twickenham. Warton applauds 'his singular effort of art and taste, in impressing so much variety and scenery on a spot of five acres.' Pope was thefirstwho ridiculed the 'formal, French, Dutch, false and unnatural taste in gardening,' both inproseand verse. (See, for the former, 'The Guardian.')

"'Pope has given not only some of ourfirstbutbestrules and observations onArchitectureandGardening.' (See Warton's Essay, vol. ii. p. 237, &c.&c.)

"Now, is it not a shame, after this, to hear our Lakers in 'Kendal green,' and our Bucolical Cockneys, crying out (the latter in a wilderness of bricks and mortar) about 'Nature,' and Pope's 'artificial in-door habits?' Pope had seen all of nature thatEnglandalone can supply. He was bred in Windsor Forest, and amidst the beautiful scenery of Eton; he lived familiarly and frequently at the country seats of Bathurst, Cobham, Burlington, Peterborough, Digby, and Bolingbroke; amongst whose seats was to be numberedStowe. He made his own little five acres' a model to Princes, and to the first of our artists who imitated nature. Warton thinks 'that the most engaging ofKent'sworks was alsoplanned on the model of Pope's,—at least in the opening and retiring shades of Venus's Vale.'

"It is true that Pope was infirm and deformed; but he could walk, and he could ride (he rode to Oxford from London at a stretch), and he was famous for an exquisite eye. On a tree at Lord Bathurst's is carved, 'Here Pope sang,'—he composed beneath it. Bolingbroke, in one of his letters, represents them both writing in a hayfield. No poet ever admired Nature more, or used her better, than Pope has done, as I will undertake to prove from his works, prose and verse, if not anticipated in so easy and agreeable a labour. I remember a passage in Walpole, somewhere, of a gentleman who wished to give directions about some willows to a man who had long served Pope in his grounds: 'I understand, sir,' he replied: 'you would have them hang down, sir,somewhat poetical.' Now if nothing existed but this little anecdote, it would suffice to prove Pope's taste forNature, and the impression which he had made on a common-minded man. But I have already quoted Warton and Walpole (bothhis enemies), and, were it necessary, I could amply quote Pope himself for such tributes toNatureas no poet of the present day has even approached.

"His various excellence is really wonderful: architecture, painting,gardening, all are alike subject to his genius. Be it remembered, that Englishgardeningis the purposed perfectioning of niggardNature, and that without it England is but a hedge-and-ditch, double-post-and-rail, Hounslow-heath and Clapham-common sort of a country, since the principal forests have been felled. It is, in general, far from a picturesque country. The case is different with Scotland, Wales, and Ireland; and I except also the lake counties and Derbyshire, together with Eton, Windsor, and my own dear Harrow on the Hill, and some spots near the coast. In the present rank fertility of 'great poets of the age,' and 'schools of poetry'—a word which, like 'schools of eloquence' and of 'philosophy,' is never introduced till the decay of the art has increased with the number of its professors—in the present day, then, there have sprung up two sorts of Naturals;—the Lakers, who whine about Nature because they live in Cumberland; and theirunder-sect(which some one has maliciously called the 'Cockney School'), who are enthusiastical for the country because they live in London. It is to be observed, that the rustical founders are rather anxious to disclaim any connection with their metropolitan followers, whom they ungraciously review, and call cockneys, atheists, foolish fellows, bad writers, and other hard names, not less ungrateful than unjust. I can understand the pretensions of the aquatic gentlemen of Windermere to what Mr. B * * terms 'entusumusy' for lakes, and mountains, and daffodils, and buttercups; but I should be glad to be apprised of the foundation of the London propensities of their imitative brethren to the same' high argument.' Southey, Wordsworth, and Coleridge have rambled over half Europe, and seen Nature in most of her varieties (although I think that they have occasionally not used her very well); but what on earth—of earth, and sea, andNature—have the others seen? Not a half, nor a tenth part so much as Pope. While they sneer at his Windsor Forest, have they ever seen any thing of Windsor except itsbrick?

"When they have really seen life—when they have felt it—when they have travelled beyond the far distant boundaries of the wilds of Middlesex—when they have overpassed the Alps of Highgate, and traced to its sources the Nile of the New River—then, and not till then, can it properly be permitted to them to despise Pope; who had, if notin Wales, beennearit, when he described so beautifully the 'artificial' works of the Benefactor of Nature and mankind, the 'Man of Ross,' whose picture, still suspended in the parlour of the inn, I have so often contemplated with reverence for his memory, and admiration of the poet, without whom even his own still existing good works could hardly have preserved his honest renown.

"If they had said nothing ofPope, they might have remained 'alone with their glory' for aught I should have said or thought about them or their nonsense. But if they interfere with the little 'Nightingale' of Twickenham, they may find others who will bear it—Iwon't. Neither time, nor distance, nor grief, nor age, can ever diminish my veneration for him, who is the great moral poet of all times, of all climes, of all feelings, and of all stages of existence. The delight of my boyhood, the study of my manhood, perhaps (if allowed to me to attain it) he may be the consolation of my age. His poetry is the Book of Life. Without canting, and yet withoutneglecting, religion, he has assembled all that a good and great man can gather together of moral wisdom clothed in consummate beauty. Sir William Temple observes, 'That of all the members of mankind that live within the compass of a thousand years, for one man that is born capable of making agreat poetthere may be athousandborn capable of making as great generals and ministers of state as any in story.' Here is a statesman's opinion of poetry: it is honourable to him and to the art. Such a 'poet of a thousand years' wasPope. A thousand years will roll away before such another can be hoped for in our literature. But it canwantthem—he himself is a literature.

"One word upon his so brutally abused translation of Homer. 'Dr. Clarke, whose critical exactness is well known, hasnot beenable to point out above three or four mistakesin the sensethrough the whole Iliad. The real faults of the translation are of a different kind.' So says Warton, himself a scholar. It appears by this, then, that he avoided the chief fault of a translator. As to its other faults, they consist in his having made a beautiful English poem of a sublime Greek one. It will always hold. Cowper and all the rest of the blank pretenders may do their best and their worst; they will never wrench Pope from the hands of a single reader of sense and feeling.

"The grand distinction of the under forms of the new school of poets is theirvulgarity. By this I do not mean that they are coarse, but 'shabby-genteel,' as it is termed. A man may becoarseand yetnotvulgar, and the reverse. Burns is often coarse, but nevervulgar. Chatterton is never vulgar, nor Wordsworth, nor the higher of the Lake school, though they treat of low life in all its branches. It is in theirfinerythat the new under school aremostvulgar, and they may be known by this at once; as what we called at Harrow 'a Sunday blood' might be easily distinguished from a gentleman, although his clothes might be better cut, and his boots the best blackened, of the two;—probably because he made the one or cleaned the other with his own hands.

"In the present case, I speak of writing, not of persons. Of the latter, I know nothing; of the former, I judge as it is found. * * They may be honourable andgentlemanlymen, for what I know, but the latter quality is studiously excluded from their publications. They remind me of Mr. Smith and the Miss Broughtons at the Hampstead Assembly, in 'Evelina.' In these things (in private life, at least) I pretend to some small experience: because, in the course of my youth, I have seen a little of all sorts of society, from the Christian prince and the Mussulman sultan and pacha, and the higher ranks of their countries, down to the London boxer, the 'flash and the swell,' the Spanish muleteer, the wandering Turkish dervise, the Scotch Highlander, and the Albanian robber;—to say nothing of the curious varieties of Italian social life. Far be it from me to presume that there are now, or can be, such a thing as anaristocracyofpoets; but thereisa nobility of thought and of style, open to allstations, and derived partly from talent, and partly from education,—which is to be found in Shakspeare, and Pope, and Burns, no less than in Dante and Alfieri, but which is nowhere to be perceived in the mock birds and bards of Mr. Hunt's little chorus. If I were asked to define what this gentlemanliness is, I should say that it is only to be defined byexamples—of those who have it, and those who have it not. Inlife, I should say that mostmilitarymen have it, and fewnaval; that several men of rank have it, and few lawyers; that it is more frequent among authors than divines (when they are not pedants); thatfencing-masters have more of it than dancing-masters, and singers than players; and that (if it be notan Irishismto say so) it is far more generally diffused among women than among men. In poetry, as well as writing in general, it will nevermakeentirely a poet or a poem; but neither poet nor poem will ever be good for any thing without it. It is thesaltof society, and the seasoning of composition.Vulgarityis far worse than downrightblack-guardism; for the latter comprehends wit, humour, and strong sense at times; while the former is a sad abortive attempt at all things, 'signifying nothing.' It does not depend upon low themes, or even low-language, for Fielding revels in both;—but is he evervulgar? No. You see the man of education, the gentleman, and the scholar, sporting with his subject,—its master, not its slave. Your vulgar writer is always most vulgar the higher his subject; as the man who showed the menagerie at Pidcock's was wont to say, 'This, gentlemen, is theEagleoftheSun, from Archangel in Russia: theottererit is, theighererhe flies.'"

In a note on a passage relative to Pope's lines upon Lady Mary W. Montague, he says—

"I think that I could show, if necessary, that Lady Mary W. Montague was also greatly to blame in that quarrel,notfor having rejected, but for having encouraged him; but I would rather decline the task—though she should have remembered her own line, 'He comes too near, that comes to be denied.' I admire her so much—her beauty, her talents—that I should do this reluctantly. I, besides, am so attached to the very name ofMary, that as Johnson once said, 'If you called a dogHarvey, I should love him;' so, if you were to call a female of the same species 'Mary,' I should love it better than others (biped or quadruped) of the same sex with a different appellation. She was an extraordinary woman: she could translateEpictetus, and yet write a song worthy of Aristippus. The lines,

"'And when the long hours of the public are past,And we meet, with champaigne and a chicken, at last,May every fond pleasure that moment endear.'Be banish'd afar both discretion and fear!Forgetting or scorning the airs of the crowd,He may cease to be formal, and I to be proud,Till,' &c. &c.

There, Mr. Bowles!—what say you to such a supper with such a woman? and her own description too? Is not her 'champaigne and chicken' worth a forest or two? Is it not poetry? It appears to me that thisstanza contains the 'purée' of the whole philosophy of Epicurus:—I mean thepracticalphilosophy of his school, not the precepts of the master; for I have been too long at the university not to know that the philosopher was himself a moderate man. But after all, would not some of us have been as great fools as Pope? For my part, I wonder that, with his quick feelings, her coquetry, and his disappointment, he did no more,—instead of writing some lines, which are to be condemned if false, and regretted if true."

LETTER 424. TO MR. HOPPNER.

"Ravenna, May 11. 1821."If I had but known your notion about Switzerland before, I should have adopted it at once. As it is, I shall let the child remain in her convent, where she seems healthy and happy, for the present; but I shall feel much obliged if you willenquire, when you are in the cantons, about the usual and better modes of education there for females, and let me know the result of your opinions. It is some consolation that both Mr. and Mrs. Shelley have written to approve entirely my placing the child with the nuns for the present. I can refer to my whole conduct, as having neither spared care, kindness, nor expense, since the child was sent to me. The people may say what they please, I must content myself with not deserving (in this instance) that they should speak ill."The place is a country town in a good air, where there is a large establishment for education, andmany children, some of considerable rank, placed in it. As acountrytown, it is less liable to objections of every kind. It has always appeared to me, that the moral defect in Italy doesnotproceed from aconventualeducation,—because, to my certain knowledge, they come out of their convents innocent even toignoranceof moral evil,—but to the state of society into which they are directly plunged on coming out of it. It is like educating an infant on a mountain-top, and then taking him to the sea and throwing him into it and desiring him to swim. The evil, however, though still too general, is partly wearing away, as the women are more permitted to marry from attachment: this is, I believe, the case also in France. And after all, what is the higher society of England? According to my own experience, and to all that I have seen and heard (and I have lived there in the very highest and what is called thebest), no way of life can be more corrupt. In Italy, however, it is, or ratherwas, moresystematised; butnow, they themselves are ashamed ofregularServentism. In England, the only homage which they pay to virtue is hypocrisy. I speak of course of thetoneof high life,—the middle ranks may be very virtuous."I have not got any copy (nor have yet had) of the letter on Bowles; of course I should be delighted to send it to you. How is Mrs. H.? well again, I hope. Let me know when you set out. I regret that I cannot meet you in the Bernese Alps this summer, as I once hoped and intended. With my best respects to madam, I am ever, &c."P.S. I gave to a musicianera letter for you some time ago—has he presented himself? Perhaps you could introduce him to the Ingrains and other dilettanti. He is simple and unassuming—two strange things in his profession—and he fiddles like Orpheus himself or Amphion: 'tis a pity that he can't make Venice dance away from the brutal tyrant who tramples upon it."

"Ravenna, May 11. 1821.

"If I had but known your notion about Switzerland before, I should have adopted it at once. As it is, I shall let the child remain in her convent, where she seems healthy and happy, for the present; but I shall feel much obliged if you willenquire, when you are in the cantons, about the usual and better modes of education there for females, and let me know the result of your opinions. It is some consolation that both Mr. and Mrs. Shelley have written to approve entirely my placing the child with the nuns for the present. I can refer to my whole conduct, as having neither spared care, kindness, nor expense, since the child was sent to me. The people may say what they please, I must content myself with not deserving (in this instance) that they should speak ill.

"The place is a country town in a good air, where there is a large establishment for education, andmany children, some of considerable rank, placed in it. As acountrytown, it is less liable to objections of every kind. It has always appeared to me, that the moral defect in Italy doesnotproceed from aconventualeducation,—because, to my certain knowledge, they come out of their convents innocent even toignoranceof moral evil,—but to the state of society into which they are directly plunged on coming out of it. It is like educating an infant on a mountain-top, and then taking him to the sea and throwing him into it and desiring him to swim. The evil, however, though still too general, is partly wearing away, as the women are more permitted to marry from attachment: this is, I believe, the case also in France. And after all, what is the higher society of England? According to my own experience, and to all that I have seen and heard (and I have lived there in the very highest and what is called thebest), no way of life can be more corrupt. In Italy, however, it is, or ratherwas, moresystematised; butnow, they themselves are ashamed ofregularServentism. In England, the only homage which they pay to virtue is hypocrisy. I speak of course of thetoneof high life,—the middle ranks may be very virtuous.

"I have not got any copy (nor have yet had) of the letter on Bowles; of course I should be delighted to send it to you. How is Mrs. H.? well again, I hope. Let me know when you set out. I regret that I cannot meet you in the Bernese Alps this summer, as I once hoped and intended. With my best respects to madam, I am ever, &c.

"P.S. I gave to a musicianera letter for you some time ago—has he presented himself? Perhaps you could introduce him to the Ingrains and other dilettanti. He is simple and unassuming—two strange things in his profession—and he fiddles like Orpheus himself or Amphion: 'tis a pity that he can't make Venice dance away from the brutal tyrant who tramples upon it."

LETTER 425. TO MR. MURRAY.

"May 14. 1821."A Milan paper states that the play has been represented and universally condemned. As remonstrance has been vain, complaint would be useless. I presume, however, for your own sake (if not for mine), that you and my other friends will have at least published my different protests against its being brought upon the stage at all; and have shown that Elliston (in spite of the writer)forcedit upon the theatre. It would be nonsense to say that this has not vexed me a good deal, but I am not dejected, and I shall not take the usual resource of blaming the public (which was in the right), or my friends for not preventing—what they could not help, nor I neither—aforcedrepresentation by a speculating manager. It is a pity that you did not show them itsunfitnessfor the stage before the play waspublished, and exact a promise from the managers not to act it. In case of their refusal, we would not have published it at all. But this is too late."Yours."P.S. I enclose Mr. Bowles's letters: thank him in my name for their candour and kindness.—Also a letter for Hodgson, which pray forward. The Milan paper states that I 'brought forward the play!!!' This is pleasanter still. But don't let yourself be worried about it; and if (as is likely) the folly of Elliston checks the sale, I am ready to make any deduction, or the entire cancel of your agreement."You will of coursenotpublish my defence of Gilchrist, as, after Bowles's good humour upon the subject, it would be too savage."Let me hear from you the particulars; for, as yet, I have only the simple fact."If you knew what I have had to go through here, on account of the failure of these rascally Neapolitans, you would be amused; but it is now apparently over. They seemed disposed to throw the whole project and plans of these parts upon me chiefly."

"May 14. 1821.

"A Milan paper states that the play has been represented and universally condemned. As remonstrance has been vain, complaint would be useless. I presume, however, for your own sake (if not for mine), that you and my other friends will have at least published my different protests against its being brought upon the stage at all; and have shown that Elliston (in spite of the writer)forcedit upon the theatre. It would be nonsense to say that this has not vexed me a good deal, but I am not dejected, and I shall not take the usual resource of blaming the public (which was in the right), or my friends for not preventing—what they could not help, nor I neither—aforcedrepresentation by a speculating manager. It is a pity that you did not show them itsunfitnessfor the stage before the play waspublished, and exact a promise from the managers not to act it. In case of their refusal, we would not have published it at all. But this is too late.

"Yours.

"P.S. I enclose Mr. Bowles's letters: thank him in my name for their candour and kindness.—Also a letter for Hodgson, which pray forward. The Milan paper states that I 'brought forward the play!!!' This is pleasanter still. But don't let yourself be worried about it; and if (as is likely) the folly of Elliston checks the sale, I am ready to make any deduction, or the entire cancel of your agreement.

"You will of coursenotpublish my defence of Gilchrist, as, after Bowles's good humour upon the subject, it would be too savage.

"Let me hear from you the particulars; for, as yet, I have only the simple fact.

"If you knew what I have had to go through here, on account of the failure of these rascally Neapolitans, you would be amused; but it is now apparently over. They seemed disposed to throw the whole project and plans of these parts upon me chiefly."

LETTER 426. TO MR. MOORE.

"May 14. 1821."If any part of the letter to Bowles has (unintentionally, as far as I remember the contents) vexed you, you are fully avenged; for I see by an Italian paper that, notwithstanding all my remonstrances through all my friends (and yourself among the rest), the managers persisted in attempting the tragedy, and that it has been 'unanimously hissed!!' This is the consolatory phrase of the Milan paper, (whichdetests me cordially, and abuses me, on all occasions, as a Liberal,) with the addition thatI'brought the play out' of my own good will."All this is vexatious enough, and seems a sort of dramatic Calvinism—predestined damnation, without a sinner's own fault. I took all the pains poor mortal could to prevent this inevitable catastrophe—partly by appeals of all kinds up to the Lord Chamberlain, and partly to the fellows themselves. But, as remonstrance was vain, complaint is useless. I do not understand it—for Murray's letter of the 24th, and all his preceding ones, gave me the strongest hopes that there would be no representation. As yet, I know nothing but the fact, which I presume to be true, as the date is Paris, and the 30th. They must have been in ahellof a hurry for this damnation, since I did not even know that it was published; and, without its being first published, the histrions could not have got hold of it. Any one might have seen, at a glance, that it was utterly impracticable for the stage; and this little accident will by no means enhance its merit in the closet."Well, patience is a virtue, and, I suppose, practice will make it perfect. Since last year (spring, that is) I have lost a lawsuit, of great importance, on Rochdale collieries—have occasioned a divorce—have had my poesy disparaged by Murray and the critics—my fortune refused to be placed on an advantageous settlement (in Ireland) by the trustees—my life threatened last month (they put about a paper here to excite an attempt at my assassination,on account of politics, and a notion which the priests disseminated that I was in a league against the Germans,)—and, finally, my mother-in-law recovered last fortnight, and my play was damned last week! These are like 'the eight-and-twenty misfortunes of Harlequin.' But they must be borne. If I give in, it shall be after keeping up a spirit at least. I should not have cared so much about it, if our southern neighbours had not bungled us all out of freedom for these five hundred years to come."Did you know John Keats? They say that he was killed by a review of him in the Quarterly—if he be dead, which I really don't know. I don't understand thatyieldingsensitiveness. What I feel (as at this present) is an immense rage for eight-and-forty hours, and then, as usual—unless this time it should last longer. I must get on horseback to quiet me. Yours, &c."Francis I. wrote, after the battle of Pavia, 'All is lost except our honour.' A hissed author may reverse it—'Nothingis lost, except our honour.' But the horses are waiting, and the paper full. I wrote last week to you."

"May 14. 1821.

"If any part of the letter to Bowles has (unintentionally, as far as I remember the contents) vexed you, you are fully avenged; for I see by an Italian paper that, notwithstanding all my remonstrances through all my friends (and yourself among the rest), the managers persisted in attempting the tragedy, and that it has been 'unanimously hissed!!' This is the consolatory phrase of the Milan paper, (whichdetests me cordially, and abuses me, on all occasions, as a Liberal,) with the addition thatI'brought the play out' of my own good will.

"All this is vexatious enough, and seems a sort of dramatic Calvinism—predestined damnation, without a sinner's own fault. I took all the pains poor mortal could to prevent this inevitable catastrophe—partly by appeals of all kinds up to the Lord Chamberlain, and partly to the fellows themselves. But, as remonstrance was vain, complaint is useless. I do not understand it—for Murray's letter of the 24th, and all his preceding ones, gave me the strongest hopes that there would be no representation. As yet, I know nothing but the fact, which I presume to be true, as the date is Paris, and the 30th. They must have been in ahellof a hurry for this damnation, since I did not even know that it was published; and, without its being first published, the histrions could not have got hold of it. Any one might have seen, at a glance, that it was utterly impracticable for the stage; and this little accident will by no means enhance its merit in the closet.

"Well, patience is a virtue, and, I suppose, practice will make it perfect. Since last year (spring, that is) I have lost a lawsuit, of great importance, on Rochdale collieries—have occasioned a divorce—have had my poesy disparaged by Murray and the critics—my fortune refused to be placed on an advantageous settlement (in Ireland) by the trustees—my life threatened last month (they put about a paper here to excite an attempt at my assassination,on account of politics, and a notion which the priests disseminated that I was in a league against the Germans,)—and, finally, my mother-in-law recovered last fortnight, and my play was damned last week! These are like 'the eight-and-twenty misfortunes of Harlequin.' But they must be borne. If I give in, it shall be after keeping up a spirit at least. I should not have cared so much about it, if our southern neighbours had not bungled us all out of freedom for these five hundred years to come.

"Did you know John Keats? They say that he was killed by a review of him in the Quarterly—if he be dead, which I really don't know. I don't understand thatyieldingsensitiveness. What I feel (as at this present) is an immense rage for eight-and-forty hours, and then, as usual—unless this time it should last longer. I must get on horseback to quiet me. Yours, &c.

"Francis I. wrote, after the battle of Pavia, 'All is lost except our honour.' A hissed author may reverse it—'Nothingis lost, except our honour.' But the horses are waiting, and the paper full. I wrote last week to you."

LETTER 427. TO MR. MURRAY.

"Ravenna, May 19. 1821."By the papers of Thursday, and two letters of Mr. Kinnaird, I perceive that the Italian gazette had lied mostItalically, and that the drama hadnotbeen hissed, and that my friendshadinterfered to preventthe representation. So it seems they continue to act it, in spite of us all: for this we must 'trouble them at 'size.' Let it by all means be brought to a plea: I am determined to try the right, and will meet the expenses. The reason of the Lombard lie was that the Austrians—who keep up an Inquisition throughout Italy, and alist of namesof all who think or speak of any thing but in favour of their despotism—have for five years past abused me in every form in the Gazette of Milan, &c. I wrote to you a week ago on the subject."Now I should be glad to know what compensation Mr. Elliston would make me, not only for dragging my writings on the stage infivedays, but for being the cause that I was kept forfourdays (from Sunday to Thursday morning, the only post-days) in thebeliefthat thetragedyhad been acted and 'unanimously hissed;' and this with the addition thatI'had brought it upon the stage,' and consequently that none of my friends had attended to my request to the contrary. Suppose that I had burst a blood-vessel, like John Keats, or blown my brains out in a fit of rage,—neither of which would have been unlikely a few years ago. At present I am, luckily, calmer than I used to be, and yet I would not pass those four days over again for—I know not what[38]."I wrote to you to keep up your spirits, for reproach is useless always, and irritating—but myfeelings were very much hurt, to be dragged like a gladiator to the fate of a gladiator by that 'retiarius,' Mr. Elliston. As to his defence and offers of compensation, what is all this to the purpose? It is like Louis the Fourteenth, who insisted upon buying at any price Algernon Sydney's horse, and, on his refusal, on taking it by force, Sydney shot his horse. I could not shoot my tragedy, but I would have flung it into the fire rather than have had it represented."I have now written nearly threeactsof another (intending to complete it in five), and am more anxious than ever to be preserved from such a breach of all literary courtesy and gentlemanly consideration."If we succeed, well: if not, previous to any future publication, we will request apromisenot to be acted, which I would even pay for (as money istheir object), or I will not publish—which, however, you will probably not much regret."The Chancellor has behaved nobly. You have also conducted yourself in the most satisfactory manner; and I have no fault to find with any body but the stage-players and their proprietor. I was always so civil to Elliston personally, that he ought to have been the last to attempt to injure me."There is a most rattling thunder-storm pelting away at this present writing; so that I write neither by day, nor by candle, nor torchlight, but bylightninglight: the flashes are as brilliant as the most gaseous glow of the gas-light company. My chimney-board has just been thrown down by a gust of wind: I thought that it was the 'Bold Thunder' and 'Brisk Lightning' in person.—Threeof us would be too many. There it goes—flashagain! but"I tax not you, ye elements, with unkindness;I never gave yefranks, norcall'dupon you;as I have done by and upon Mr. Elliston."Why do you not write? You should at least send me a line of particulars: I know nothing yet but by Galignani and the Honourable Douglas."Well, and how does our Pope controversy go on? and the pamphlet? It is impossible to write any news: the Austrian scoundrels rummage all letters."P.S. I could have sent you a good deal of gossip and somerealinformation, were it not that all letters pass through the Barbarians' inspection,and I have no wish to informthemof any thing but my utter abhorrence of them and theirs. They have only conquered by treachery, however."

"Ravenna, May 19. 1821.

"By the papers of Thursday, and two letters of Mr. Kinnaird, I perceive that the Italian gazette had lied mostItalically, and that the drama hadnotbeen hissed, and that my friendshadinterfered to preventthe representation. So it seems they continue to act it, in spite of us all: for this we must 'trouble them at 'size.' Let it by all means be brought to a plea: I am determined to try the right, and will meet the expenses. The reason of the Lombard lie was that the Austrians—who keep up an Inquisition throughout Italy, and alist of namesof all who think or speak of any thing but in favour of their despotism—have for five years past abused me in every form in the Gazette of Milan, &c. I wrote to you a week ago on the subject.

"Now I should be glad to know what compensation Mr. Elliston would make me, not only for dragging my writings on the stage infivedays, but for being the cause that I was kept forfourdays (from Sunday to Thursday morning, the only post-days) in thebeliefthat thetragedyhad been acted and 'unanimously hissed;' and this with the addition thatI'had brought it upon the stage,' and consequently that none of my friends had attended to my request to the contrary. Suppose that I had burst a blood-vessel, like John Keats, or blown my brains out in a fit of rage,—neither of which would have been unlikely a few years ago. At present I am, luckily, calmer than I used to be, and yet I would not pass those four days over again for—I know not what[38].

"I wrote to you to keep up your spirits, for reproach is useless always, and irritating—but myfeelings were very much hurt, to be dragged like a gladiator to the fate of a gladiator by that 'retiarius,' Mr. Elliston. As to his defence and offers of compensation, what is all this to the purpose? It is like Louis the Fourteenth, who insisted upon buying at any price Algernon Sydney's horse, and, on his refusal, on taking it by force, Sydney shot his horse. I could not shoot my tragedy, but I would have flung it into the fire rather than have had it represented.

"I have now written nearly threeactsof another (intending to complete it in five), and am more anxious than ever to be preserved from such a breach of all literary courtesy and gentlemanly consideration.

"If we succeed, well: if not, previous to any future publication, we will request apromisenot to be acted, which I would even pay for (as money istheir object), or I will not publish—which, however, you will probably not much regret.

"The Chancellor has behaved nobly. You have also conducted yourself in the most satisfactory manner; and I have no fault to find with any body but the stage-players and their proprietor. I was always so civil to Elliston personally, that he ought to have been the last to attempt to injure me.

"There is a most rattling thunder-storm pelting away at this present writing; so that I write neither by day, nor by candle, nor torchlight, but bylightninglight: the flashes are as brilliant as the most gaseous glow of the gas-light company. My chimney-board has just been thrown down by a gust of wind: I thought that it was the 'Bold Thunder' and 'Brisk Lightning' in person.—Threeof us would be too many. There it goes—flashagain! but

"I tax not you, ye elements, with unkindness;I never gave yefranks, norcall'dupon you;

as I have done by and upon Mr. Elliston.

"Why do you not write? You should at least send me a line of particulars: I know nothing yet but by Galignani and the Honourable Douglas.

"Well, and how does our Pope controversy go on? and the pamphlet? It is impossible to write any news: the Austrian scoundrels rummage all letters.

"P.S. I could have sent you a good deal of gossip and somerealinformation, were it not that all letters pass through the Barbarians' inspection,and I have no wish to informthemof any thing but my utter abhorrence of them and theirs. They have only conquered by treachery, however."

LETTER 428. TO ME. MOORE.

"Ravenna, May 20. 1821."Since I wrote to you last week I have received English letters and papers, by which I perceive that what I took for an Italiantruthis, after all, a French lie of the Gazette de France. It contains two ultra-falsehoods in as many lines. In the first place, Lord B. didnotbring forward his play, but opposed the same; and, secondly, it wasnotcondemned, but is continued to be acted, in despite of publisher, author, Lord Chancellor, and (for aught I know to the contrary) of audience, up to the first of May, at least—the latest date of my letters. You will oblige me, then, by causing Mr. Gazette of France to contradict himself, which, I suppose, he is used to. I never answer a foreigncriticism; but this is a mere matter of fact, and not ofopinions. I presume that you have English and French interest enough to do this for me—though, to be sure, as it is nothing but thetruthwhich we wish to state, the insertion may be more difficult."As I have written to you often lately at some length, I won't bore you further now, than by begging you to comply with my request; and I presume the 'esprit du corps' (is it 'du' or 'de?' for this is more than I know) will sufficiently urge you, asone of 'ours,' to set this affair in its real aspect. Believe me always yours ever and most affectionately,"Byron."

"Ravenna, May 20. 1821.

"Since I wrote to you last week I have received English letters and papers, by which I perceive that what I took for an Italiantruthis, after all, a French lie of the Gazette de France. It contains two ultra-falsehoods in as many lines. In the first place, Lord B. didnotbring forward his play, but opposed the same; and, secondly, it wasnotcondemned, but is continued to be acted, in despite of publisher, author, Lord Chancellor, and (for aught I know to the contrary) of audience, up to the first of May, at least—the latest date of my letters. You will oblige me, then, by causing Mr. Gazette of France to contradict himself, which, I suppose, he is used to. I never answer a foreigncriticism; but this is a mere matter of fact, and not ofopinions. I presume that you have English and French interest enough to do this for me—though, to be sure, as it is nothing but thetruthwhich we wish to state, the insertion may be more difficult.

"As I have written to you often lately at some length, I won't bore you further now, than by begging you to comply with my request; and I presume the 'esprit du corps' (is it 'du' or 'de?' for this is more than I know) will sufficiently urge you, asone of 'ours,' to set this affair in its real aspect. Believe me always yours ever and most affectionately,

"Byron."

LETTER 429. TO MR. HOPPNER.

"Ravenna, May 25. 1821."I am very much pleased with what you say of Switzerland, and will ponder upon it. I would rather she married there than here for that matter. For fortune, I shall make all that I can spare (if I live and she is correct in her conduct); and if I die before she is settled, I have left her by will five thousand pounds, which is a fair provisionoutof England for a natural child. I shall increase it all I can, if circumstances permit me; but, of course (like all other human things), this is very uncertain."You will oblige me very much by interfering to have the FACTS of the play-acting stated, as these scoundrels appear to be organising a system of abuse against me, because I am in their 'list.' I care nothing fortheir criticism, but the matter of fact. I have writtenfouracts of another tragedy, so you see theycan'tbully me."You know, I suppose, that they actually keep alistof all individuals in Italy who dislike them—it must be numerous. Their suspicions and actual alarms, about my conduct and presumed intentions in the late row, were truly ludicrous—though, not to bore you, I touched upon them lightly. They believed, and still believe here, or affect to believeit, that the whole plan and project of rising was settled by me, and themeansfurnished, &c. &c. All this was more fomented by the barbarian agents, who are numerous here (one of them was stabbed yesterday, by the way, but not dangerously):—and although when the Commandant was shot here before my door in December, I took him into my house, where he had every assistance, till he died on Fletcher's bed; and although not one of them dared to receive him into their houses but myself, they leaving him to perish in the night in the streets, they put up a paper about three months ago, denouncing me as the Chief of the Liberals, and stirring up persons to assassinate me. But this shall never silence nor bully my opinions. All this came from the German Barbarians."

"Ravenna, May 25. 1821.

"I am very much pleased with what you say of Switzerland, and will ponder upon it. I would rather she married there than here for that matter. For fortune, I shall make all that I can spare (if I live and she is correct in her conduct); and if I die before she is settled, I have left her by will five thousand pounds, which is a fair provisionoutof England for a natural child. I shall increase it all I can, if circumstances permit me; but, of course (like all other human things), this is very uncertain.

"You will oblige me very much by interfering to have the FACTS of the play-acting stated, as these scoundrels appear to be organising a system of abuse against me, because I am in their 'list.' I care nothing fortheir criticism, but the matter of fact. I have writtenfouracts of another tragedy, so you see theycan'tbully me.

"You know, I suppose, that they actually keep alistof all individuals in Italy who dislike them—it must be numerous. Their suspicions and actual alarms, about my conduct and presumed intentions in the late row, were truly ludicrous—though, not to bore you, I touched upon them lightly. They believed, and still believe here, or affect to believeit, that the whole plan and project of rising was settled by me, and themeansfurnished, &c. &c. All this was more fomented by the barbarian agents, who are numerous here (one of them was stabbed yesterday, by the way, but not dangerously):—and although when the Commandant was shot here before my door in December, I took him into my house, where he had every assistance, till he died on Fletcher's bed; and although not one of them dared to receive him into their houses but myself, they leaving him to perish in the night in the streets, they put up a paper about three months ago, denouncing me as the Chief of the Liberals, and stirring up persons to assassinate me. But this shall never silence nor bully my opinions. All this came from the German Barbarians."

LETTER 430. TO MR. MURRAY.

"Ravenna, May 25. 1821."Mr. Moray,"Since I wrote the enclosed a week ago, and for some weeks before, I have not had a line from you: now, I should be glad to know upon what principle of common oruncommon feeling, you leave me without any information but what I derive from garbled gazettes in English, and abusive ones in Italian (the Germans hating me as acoal-heaver), while all this kick-up has been going on about the play? You SHABBY fellow!!! Were it not for two letters from Douglas Kinnaird, I should have been as ignorant as you are negligent."So, I hear Bowles has been abusing Hobhouse?If that's the case, he has broken the truce, like Morillo's successor, and I will cut him out, as Cochrane did the Esmeralda."Since I wrote the enclosed packet, I have completed (but not copied out) four acts of a new tragedy. When I have finished the fifth, I will copy it out. It is on the subject of 'Sardanapalus,' the last king of the Assyrians. The wordsQueenandPavilionoccur, but it is not an allusion to his Britannic Majesty, as you may tremulously imagine. This you will one day see (if I finish it), as I have made Sardanapalusbrave, (though voluptuous, as history represents him,) and also asamiableas my poor powers could render him:—so that it could neither be truth nor satire on any living monarch. I have strictly preserved all the unities hitherto, and mean to continue them in the fifth, if possible; butnotforthe stage. Yours, in haste and hatred, you shabby correspondent! N."

"Ravenna, May 25. 1821.

"Mr. Moray,

"Since I wrote the enclosed a week ago, and for some weeks before, I have not had a line from you: now, I should be glad to know upon what principle of common oruncommon feeling, you leave me without any information but what I derive from garbled gazettes in English, and abusive ones in Italian (the Germans hating me as acoal-heaver), while all this kick-up has been going on about the play? You SHABBY fellow!!! Were it not for two letters from Douglas Kinnaird, I should have been as ignorant as you are negligent.

"So, I hear Bowles has been abusing Hobhouse?If that's the case, he has broken the truce, like Morillo's successor, and I will cut him out, as Cochrane did the Esmeralda.

"Since I wrote the enclosed packet, I have completed (but not copied out) four acts of a new tragedy. When I have finished the fifth, I will copy it out. It is on the subject of 'Sardanapalus,' the last king of the Assyrians. The wordsQueenandPavilionoccur, but it is not an allusion to his Britannic Majesty, as you may tremulously imagine. This you will one day see (if I finish it), as I have made Sardanapalusbrave, (though voluptuous, as history represents him,) and also asamiableas my poor powers could render him:—so that it could neither be truth nor satire on any living monarch. I have strictly preserved all the unities hitherto, and mean to continue them in the fifth, if possible; butnotforthe stage. Yours, in haste and hatred, you shabby correspondent! N."

LETTER 431. TO MR. MURRAY.

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