Chapter 2

[Footnote 2: For Henry Drury, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 41, 'note' 2. [Footnote 1 of Letter 14]]

[Footnote 3: Byron may possibly allude to "Matthew Mug," a character in Foote's 'Mayor of Garratt', said to be intended for the Duke of Newcastle. In act ii. sc. 2 of the comedy occurs this passage--

"'Heel-Tap'. Now, neighbours, have a good caution that this Master Mug does not cajole you; he is a damn'd palavering fellow."

But there is no passage in the play which exactly corresponds with Byron's quotation.]

[Footnote 4: Hodgson was staying with his uncle, the Rev. Richard Coke, of Lower Moor, Herefordshire.]

* * * * *

183.--To R.C. Dallas.

Newstead Abbey, Sept. 10, 1811.

Dear Sir,--I rather think in one of the opening stanzas of 'Childe Harold' there is this line:

'Tis said at times the sullen tear would start.

Now, a line or two after, I have a repetition of the epithet "_sullen_ reverie;" so (if it be so) let us have "speechless reverie," or "silent reverie;" but, at all events, do away the recurrence.

Yours ever,

B.

* * * * *

184.--To Francis Hodgson.

Newstead Abbey, September 13, 1811.

My Dear Hodgson,--I thank you for your song, or, rather, your two songs,--your new song on love, and your _old song_ on _religion_. [1] I admire the _first_ sincerely, and in turn call upon you to _admire_ the following on Anacreon Moore's new operatic farce, [2] or farcical opera--call it which you will:

Good plays are scarce, So Moore writes _Farce_; Is Fame like his so brittle? We knew before That "_Little's" Moore_, But now _'tis Moore_ that's _Little_.

I won't dispute with you on the Arcana of your new calling; they are Bagatelles like the King of Poland's rosary. One remark, and I have done; the basis of your religion is _injustice_; the _Son_ of _God_, the _pure_, the _immaculate_, the _innocent_, is sacrificed for the _Guilty_. This proves _His_ heroism; but no more does away _man's_ guilt than a schoolboy's volunteering to be flogged for another would exculpate the dunce from negligence, or preserve him from the Rod. You degrade the Creator, in the first place, by making Him a begetter of children; and in the next you convert Him into a Tyrant over an immaculate and injured Being, who is sent into existence to suffer death for the benefit of some millions of Scoundrels, who, after all, seem as likely to be damned as ever. As to miracles, I agree with Hume that it is more probable men should _lie_ or be _deceived_, than that things out of the course of Nature should so happen. Mahomet wrought miracles, Brothers [3] the prophet had _proselytes_, and so would Breslaw [4] the conjuror, had he lived in the time of Tiberius.

Besides I trust that God is not a _Jew_, but the God of all Mankind; and as you allow that a virtuous Gentile may be saved, you do away the necessity of being a Jew or a Christian.

I do not believe in any revealed religion, because no religion is revealed: and if it pleases the Church to damn me for not allowing a _nonentity_, I throw myself on the mercy of the "_Great First Cause, least understood_," who must do what is most proper; though I conceive He never made anything to be tortured in another life, whatever it may in this. I will neither read _pro_ nor _con_. God would have made His will known without books, considering how very few could read them when Jesus of Nazareth lived, had it been His pleasure to ratify any peculiar mode of worship. As to your immortality, if people are to live, why die? And our carcases, which are to rise again, are they worth raising? I hope, if mine is, that I shall have a better _pair of legs_ than I have moved on these two-and-twenty years, or I shall be sadly behind in the squeeze into Paradise. Did you ever read "Malthus on Population"? If he be right, war and pestilence are our best friends, to save us from being eaten alive, in this "best of all possible Worlds." [5]

I will write, read, and think no more; indeed, I do not wish to shock your prejudices by saying all I do think. Let us make the most of life, and leave dreams to Emanuel Swedenborg. Now to dreams of another genus--Poesies. I like your song much; but I will say no more, for fear you should think I wanted to scratch you into approbation of my past, present, or future acrostics. I shall not be at Cambridge before the middle of October; but, when I go, I should certes like to see you there before you are dubbed a deacon. Write to me, and I will rejoin.

Yours ever, BYRON.

[Footnote 1: The lines in which Hodgson answered Byron's letter on his religious opinions are quoted in the 'Memoir of the Rev. F. Hodgson', vol. i. pp. 199, 200.]

[Footnote 2: Moore's 'M.P., or The Bluestocking', was played at the Lyceum, September 9, 1811, but was soon withdrawn.]

[Footnote 3: Richard Brothers (1757-1824) believed that, in 1795, he was to be revealed as Prince of the Hebrews and ruler of the world. In that year he was arrested, and confined first as a criminal lunatic, afterwards in a private asylum, where he remained till 1806. A portrait of "Richard Brothers, Prince of the Hebrews," was engraved, April, 1795, by William Sharp, with the following inscription:

"Fully believing this to be the Man whom God has appointed, I engrave this likeness. William Sharp."]

[Footnote 4: See 'Breslaw's Last Legacy; or, the Magical Companion'. Including the various exhibitions of those wonderful Artists, Breslaw, Sieur Comus, Jonas, etc. (1784).]

[Footnote 5: 'Candide, ou l'Optimisms' (chapitre xxx.):

"et Pangloss disait quelquefois a Candide; Tous les evenements sont enchaines dans le meilleur des mondes possibles," etc.

Hodgson replies (September 18, 1811):

"Your last letter has unfeignedly grieved me. Believing, as I do from my heart, that you would be better and happier by thoroughly examining the evidences for Christianity, how can I hear you say you will not read any book on the subject, without being pained? But God bless you under all circumstances. I will say no more. Only do not talk of 'shocking my prejudices,' or of 'rushing to see me 'before' I am a Deacon.' I wish to see you at all times; and as to our different opinions, we can easily keep them to ourselves."

The next day he writes again:

"Let me make one other effort. You mentioned an opinion of Hume's about miracles. For God's sake,--hear me, Byron, for God's sake--examine Paley's answer to that opinion; examine the whole of Paley's 'Evidences'. The two volumes may be read carefully in less than a week. Let me for the last time by our friendship, implore you to read them."]

* * * * *

185.--To John Murray. [1]

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 have so hastily thrust my productions into the hands of a Stranger, who could be as little pleased by receiving them, as their author is at their 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, etc., etc., BYRON.

[Footnote 1: As soon as Byron came to town, he was a frequent visitor at 32, Fleet Street, while the sheets of 'Childe Harold' were passing through the press.

"Fresh from the fencing rooms of Angelo and Jackson, he used to amuse himself by renewing his practice of 'Carte et Tierce', with his walking-cane directed against the bookshelves, while Murray was reading passages from the poem with occasional ejaculations of admiration, on which Byron would say, 'You think that a good idea, do you, Murray?' Then he would fence and lunge with his walking-stick at some special book which he had picked out on the shelves before him. As Murray afterwards said, 'I was often very glad to get rid of him!'"

(Smiles's 'Memoir of John Murray', vol. i. p. 207).]

* * * * *

186.--To R. C. Dallas.

Newstead Abbey, Sept. 15, 1811.

My dear Sir,--My agent will not he here for at least a week, and even afterwards my letters will be forwarded to Rochdale. I am sorry that Murray should _groan_ on my account, tho' _that_ is better than the anticipation of applause, of which men and books are generally disappointed.

The notes I sent are _merely matter_ to be divided, arranged, and published for _notes_ hereafter, in proper places; at present I am too much occupied with earthly cares to waste time or trouble upon rhyme, or its modern indispensables, annotations.

Pray let me hear from you, when at leisure. I have written to abuse Murray for showing the MS. to Mr. G., who must certainly think it was done by my wish, though you know the contrary.--Believe me, Yours ever, B--

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187.--To John Murray.

Newstead Abbey, Sept. 16, 1811.

DEAR SIR,--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 his _own way_, or any _way_, so that they are out of _my 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, etc., etc.,

BYRON.

* * * * *

188--To R. C. Dallas.

Newstead Abbey, Sept. 16, 1811.

DEAR SIR,--I send you a 'motto':

"L'univers est une espece de livre, dont on n'a lu que la premiere page quand on n'a vu que son pays. J'en ai feuillete un assez grand nombre, que j'ai trouve egalement mauvaises. Cet examen ne m'a point ete infructueux. Je haissais ma patrie. Toutes les impertinences des peuples divers, parmi lesquels j'ai vecu, m'ont reconcilie avec elle. Quand je n'aurais tire d'autre benefice de mes voyages que celui-la, je n'en regretterais ni les frais, ni les fatigues."

"Le Cosmopolite." [1]

If not too long, I think it will suit the book. The passage is from a little French volume, a great favourite with me, which I picked up in the Archipelago. I don't think it is well known in England; Monbron is the author; but it is a work sixty years old.

Good morning! I won't take up your time.

Yours ever, BYRON.

[Footnote 1: Fougeret de Monbron, born at Peronne, served in the 'Gardes du Corps', but abandoned the sword for the pen, and published 'Henriade Travestie' (1745); 'Preservatif Centre l'Anglomanie' (1787); and 'Le Cosmopolite' (1750). His novels, 'Margot la Ravaudeuse, Therlse Philosophe', and others, appeared under the name of Fougeret. He died in 1761. In that year was published in London an edition of 'Le Cosmopolite, ou le Citoyen du Monde', par Mr. de Monbron, with the motto, "Patria est ubicunque est bene" (Cic. 5, Tusc. 37).

Byron's quotation is the opening paragraph of the book. The author, who had travelled in England, returns to France a complete "Jacques Rot-de-Bif." He then visits Holland, the Low Countries, Constantinople, Italy, Spain, Portugal, and England a second time. He finds that the charm has vanished, and that the English are no better than their neighbours. It is a cynical little book, abounding in such sayings as. "Make acquaintances, not friends; intimacy breeds disgust;" "The best fruit of travelling is the justification of instinctive dislikes." Monbron, like Byron, ridicules the traveller's passion for collecting broken statues and antiques.]

* * * * *

189.--To R. C. 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 an _errata_ column.

I am now not quite alone, having an old acquaintance and school-fellow [1] with me, so _old_, indeed, that we have nothing _new_ to say on any subject, and yawn at each other in a sort of _quiet inquietude_. I hear nothing from Cawthorn, or Captain Hobhouse; and _their quarto_--Lord have mercy on mankind! We come on like Cerberus with our triple publications. [2] As for _myself_, by _myself_, I must be satisfied with a comparison to _Janus_.

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 to _Payne's_ neck when he jumped into the Paddington Canal, [3] and so tell him,--_that_ is the proper receptacle for publishers. You have thought 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, etc., BYRON.

[Footnote 1: John Claridge. (See 'Letters', vol. i. p. 267, 'note' 2.) [Footnote 4 of Letter 136]]

[Footnote 2: i. e. 'Childe Harold', 'Hints from Horace', and 'Travels in Albania.']

[Footnote 3: Mr. Payne, of the firm of Payne and Mackinlay, the publishers of Hodgson's 'Juvenal', committed suicide by drowning himself in the Paddington Canal. Byron, in a note to 'Hints from Horace', line 657, thus applies the incident:

"A literary friend of mine, walking out one lovely evening last summer, on the eleventh bridge of the Paddington canal, was alarmed by the cry of 'one in jeopardy:' he rushed along, collected a body of Irish haymakers (supping on buttermilk in an adjacent paddock), procured three rakes, one eel spear and a landing-net, and at last ('horresco referens') pulled out--his own publisher. The unfortunate man was gone for ever, and so was a large quarto wherewith he had taken the leap, which proved, on inquiry, to have been Mr. Southey's last work. Its 'alacrity of sinking' was so great, that it has never since been heard of; though some maintain that it is at this moment concealed at Alderman Birch's pastry-premises, Cornhill. Be this as it may, the coroner's inquest brought in a verdict of ''Felo de Bibliopola'' against a quarto unknown,' and circumstantial evidence being since strong against the 'Curse of Kehama' (of which the above words are an exact description), it will be tried by its peers next session, in Grub Street--Arthur, Alfred, Davideis, Richard Coeur de Lion, Exodus, Exodiad, Epigoniad, Calvary, Fall of Cambria, Siege of Acre, Don Roderick, and Tom Thumb the Great, are the names of the twelve jurors. The judges are Pye, Bowles, and the bell-man of St. Sepulchre's."

* * * * *

190.--To R.C. Dallas.

Newstead Abbey, Sept. 17, 1811.

Dear Sir,--I have just discovered some pages of observations on the modern Greeks, written at Athens by me, under the title of 'Noctes Atticae'. They will do to _cut up_ into notes, and to be _cut up_ afterwards, which is all that notes are generally good for. They were written at Athens, as you will see by the date.

Yours ever, B.

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191.--To R. C. 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, in _Hellas_ deem'd of heavenly birth, etc., etc.

Since _shamed full oft_ by _later lyres_ on earth, Mine, etc.

Yet there _I've wandered_ by 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 Lancashire. I have brought you and my friend Juvenal Hodgson upon my back, on the score of revelation. You are fervent, but he is quite _glowing_; 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, _all_ in Romaic, besides their Pater Noster; so there will be enough, if not too much, with what I have already sent. Have you received the "Noctes Atticae"?

I sent also an annotation on Portugal. Hobhouse is also forthcoming. [1]

[Footnote 1: That is, with his 'Travels in Albania', in part of which Byron and his Greek servant, Demetrius, were assisting him with notes and other material.]

* * * * *

192.--TO R. C. Dallas.

Newstead Abbey, Sept. 23, 1811.

_Lisboa_ [1] is the Portuguese word, consequently the very best. Ulissipont is pedantic; and as I have _Hellas_ and _Eros_ not long before, there would be something like an affectation of Greek terms, which I wish to avoid, since I shall have a perilous quantity of _modern_ Greek 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, keep _them_ back, and _him_ in _good 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." [2] I have no reason to suppose my dog better than his brother brutes, mankind; and _Argus_ we 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.

I _will_ be angry with Murray. It was a bookselling, 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, [3] 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.

[Footnote 1: See 'Childe Harold', Canto I. stanza xvi., and Byron's 'note'.]

[Footnote 2: See 'Childe Harold', Canto I. The "Good Night" is placed between stanzas xiii. and xiv.

"And now I'm in the world alone, Upon the wide, wide sea; But why should I for others groan, When none will sigh for me? Perchance my dog will whine in vain, Till fed by stranger hands; But long ere I come back again He'd tear me where he stands."]

[Footnote 3: St. Dunstan's in the West, before its rebuilding by Shaw (1831-33), was one of the oldest churches in London. The clock, which projected over the street, and had two wooden figures of wild men who struck the hours with their clubs, was set up in 1671. Unless there was a similar clock before this date, as is not improbable, Scott is wrong in 'The Fortunes of Nigel', where he makes Moniplies stand "astonished as old Adam and Eve ply their ding-dong." The figures, the removal of which, it is said, brought tears to the eyes of Charles Lamb, were bought by the Marquis of Hertford to adorn his villa in Regent's Park, still called St. Dunstan's. Murray's shop at 32, Fleet Street, stood opposite the church, the yard of which was surrounded with stationers' shops, where many famous books of the seventeenth century were published.]

* * * * *

193.--To Francis Hodgson.

Newstead Abbey, Sept. 25, 1811.

MY DEAR HODGSON,--I fear that before the latest of October or the first of November, I shall hardly be able to make Cambridge. My everlasting agent puts off his coming like the accomplishment of a prophecy. However, finding me growing serious he hath promised to be here on Thursday, and about Monday we shall remove to Rochdale. I have only to give discharges to the tenantry here (it seems the poor creatures must be raised, though I wish it was not necessary), and arrange the receipt of sums, and the liquidation of some debts, and I shall be ready to enter upon new subjects of vexation. I intend to visit you in Granta, and hope to prevail on you to accompany me here or there or anywhere.

I am plucking up my spirits, and have begun to gather my little sensual comforts together. Lucy is extracted from Warwickshire; some very bad faces have been warned off the premises, and more promising substituted in their stead; the partridges are plentiful, hares fairish, pheasants not quite so good, and the Girls on the Manor * * * * Just as I had formed a tolerable establishment my travels commenced, and on my return I find all to do over again; my former flock were all scattered; some married, not before it was needful. As I am a great disciplinarian, I have just issued an edict for the abolition of caps; no hair to be cut on any pretext; stays permitted, but not too low before; full uniform always in the evening; Lucinda to be commander--'vice' the present, about to be wedded ('mem'. she is 35 with a flat face and a squeaking voice), of all the makers and unmakers of beds in the household.

My tortoises (all Athenians), my hedgehog, my mastiff and the other live Greek, are all purely. The tortoises lay eggs, and I have hired a hen to hatch them. I am writing notes for 'my' quarto (Murray would have it a 'quarto'), and Hobhouse is writing text for 'his' quarto; if you call on Murray or Cawthorn you will hear news of either. I have attacked De Pauw, [1] Thornton, [1] Lord Elgin, [2] Spain, Portugal, the 'Edinburgh Review', [3] travellers, Painters, Antiquarians, and others, so you see what a dish of Sour Crout Controversy I shall prepare for myself. It would not answer for me to give way, now; as I was forced into bitterness at the beginning, I will go through to the last. 'Vae Victis'! If I fall, I shall fall gloriously, fighting against a host.

'Felicissima Notte a Voss. Signoria,'

B.

[Footnote 1: 'Childe Harold', Canto II. note D, part ii.]

[Footnote 2: 'Ibid'., note A.]

[Footnote 3: 'Ibid'., note D, part iii.]

* * * * *

194.--To R. C. Dallas.

Newstead Abbey, Sept. 26, 1811.

MY DEAR SIR,-In a stanza towards the end of canto 1st, there is in the concluding line,

Some bitter bubbles up, and e'en on roses stings.

I have altered it as follows:

Full from the heart of joy's delicious springs Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings.

If you will point out the stanzas on Cintra [1] which you wish recast, I will send you mine answer. Be good enough to address your letters here, and they will either be forwarded or saved till my return. My agent comes tomorrow, and we shall set out immediately.

The press must not proceed of course without my seeing the proofs, as I have much to do. Pray, do you think any alterations should be made in the stanzas on Vathek? [2]

I should be sorry to make any improper allusion, as I merely wish to adduce an example of wasted wealth, and the reflection which arose in surveying the most desolate mansion in the most beautiful spot I ever beheld.

Pray keep Cawthorn back; he was not to begin till November, and even that will be two months too soon. I am so sorry my hand is unintelligible; but I can neither deny your accusation, nor remove the cause of it.--It is a sad scrawl, certes.--A perilous quantity of annotation hath been sent; I think almost _enough_, with the specimens of Romaic I mean to annex.

I will have nothing to say to your metaphysics, and allegories of rocks and beaches; we shall all go to the bottom together, so "let us eat and drink, for tomorrow, etc." I am as comfortable in my creed as others, inasmuch as it is better to sleep than to be awake.

I have heard nothing of Murray; I hope he is ashamed of himself. He sent me a vastly complimentary epistle, with a request to alter the two, and finish another canto. I sent him as civil an answer as if I had been engaged to translate by the sheet, declining altering anything in sentiment, but offered to tag rhymes, and mend them as long as he liked.

I will write from Rochdale when I arrive, if my affairs allow me; but I shall be so busy and savage all the time with the whole set, that my letters will, perhaps, be as pettish as myself. If so, lay the blame on coal and coal-heavers. Very probably I may proceed to town by way of Newstead on my return from Lancs. I mean to be at Cambridge in November, so that, at all events, we shall be nearer. I will not apologise for the trouble I have given and do give you, though I ought to do so; but I have worn out my politest periods, and can only say that I am much obliged to you.

Believe me, yours always,

BYRON.

[Footnote 1: 'Childe Harold', Canto I. stanza xviii.]

[Footnote 2: 'i.e.' on Bedford (see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 228, 'note' 1 [Footnote 2 of Letter 125]; and 'Childe Harold', Canto I, stanza xxii.).]

* * * * *

195.-To James Wedderburn Webster.

Newstead Abbey, Oct. 10th, 1811.

DEAR WEBSTER,--I can hardly invite a gentleman to my house a second time who walked out of it the first in so singular a mood, but if you had thought proper to pay me a visit, you would have had a "Highland Welcome."

I am only just returned to it out of Lancashire, where I have been on business to a Coal manor of mine near Rochdale, and shall leave it very shortly for Cambridge and London. My companions, or rather companion, (for Claridge alone has been with me) have not been very amusing, and, as to their "_Sincerity_," they are doubtless sincere enough for a man who will never put them to the trial. Besides you talked so much of your conjugal happiness, that an invitation from home would have seemed like Sacrilege, and my rough Bachelor's Hall would have appeared to little advantage after the "Bower of Armida" [1] where you have been reposing.

I cannot boast of my social powers at any time, and just at present they are more stagnant than ever. Your Brother-in-law [2] means to stand for Wexford, but I have reasons for thinking the Portsmouth interest will be against him; however I wish him success. Do _you_ mean to stand for any place next election? What are your politics? I hope Valentia's Lord is for the Catholics. You will find Hobhouse at Enniscorthy in the contested County.

Pray what has seized you? your last letter is the only one in which you do not rave upon matrimony. Are there no symptoms of a young W.W.? and shall I never be a Godfather? I believe I must be married myself soon, but it shall be a secret and a Surprise. However, knowing your exceeding discretion I shall probably entrust the secret to your silence at a proper period. You have, it is true, invited me repeatedly to Dean's Court [3] and now, when it is probable I might adventure there, you wish to be off. Be it so.

If you address your letters to this place they will be forwarded wherever I sojourn. I am about to meet some friends at Cambridge and on to town in November.

The papers are full of Dalrymple's Bigamy [4] (I know the man). What the Devil will he do with his _Spare-rib_? He is no beauty, but as lame as myself. He has more ladies than legs, what comfort to a cripple! _Sto sempre umilissimo servitore_.

BYRON.

[Footnote 1: Armida is the Sorceress, the niece of Prince Idreotes, in Tasso's 'Jerusalem Delivered', in whose palace Rinaldo forgets his vow as a crusader. Byron, in 'Don Juan' (Canto I. stanza lxxi.), says:

"But ne'er magician's wand Wrought change, with all Armida's fairy art, Like what this light touch left on Juan's heart."

In the Catalogue of Byron's books, sold April 5, 1816, appear four editions of Tasso's 'Gerusalemme Liberata', being those of 1776, 1785, 1813, and one undated.]

[Footnote 2: For George Annesley, Lord Valentia, afterwards Earl of Mountnorris (1769-1844), see 'Poems', ed. 1898, vol. i. p. 378, and 'note 5'.]

[Footnote 3: Near Wimborne, Dorset.]

[Footnote 4: The suit of 'Dalrymple' v. 'Dalrymple' was tried before Sir William Scott, in the Consistory Court, Doctors' Commons, July 16, 1811. The suit was brought by Mrs. Dalrymple ('nee' Joanna Gordon) against Captain John William Henry Dalrymple. By Scottish law he was held to have been married to Miss Gordon, and his subsequent marriage with Miss Manners, sister of the Duchess of St. Albans, was held to be illegal.]

* * * * *

196.--To R.C. Dallas.

Newstead Abbey, October 10th, 1811.

DEAR SIR,--Stanzas 24, 26, 29, [1] though _crossed_ must _stand_, with their _alterations_. The other three [2] are cut out to meet your wishes. We must, however, have a repetition of the proof, which is the first. I will write soon.

Yours ever,

B.

P.S.--Yesterday I returned from Lancs.

[Footnote 1: The stanzas are xxiv., xxv., xxvi. of Canto I.]

[Footnote 2: The following are the three deleted stanzas:

XXV.

"In golden characters, right well designed, First on the list appeareth one 'Junot;' Then certain other glorious names we find; (Which rhyme compelleth me to place below--) Dull victors! baffled by a vanquished foe, Wheedled by conynge tongues of laurels due, Stand, worthy of each other, in a row Sirs Arthur, Harry, and the dizzard Hew Dalrymple, seely wight, sore dupe of 'tother tew."

XXVII.

"But when Convention sent his handy work, Pens, tongues, feet, hands, combined in wild uproar; Mayor, Alderman, laid down th' uplifted fork; The bench of Bishops half forgot to snore; Stern Cobbett, who for one whole week forbore To question aught, once more with transport leapt, And bit his dev'lish quill agen, and swore With foe such treaty never should be kept. Then burst the blatant beast, and roared and raged and--slept!!!"

XXVIII.

"Thus unto heaven appealed the people; heaven, Which loves the lieges of our gracious King, Decreed that ere our generals were forgiven, Inquiry should be held about the thing. But mercy cloaked the babes beneath her wing; And as they spared our foes so spared we them. (Where was the pity of our sires for Byng?) Yet knaves, not idiots, should the law condemn. Then live ye, triumph gallants! and bless your judges' phlegm."]

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197.--To R.C. Dallas.

Newstead Abbey, Oct. 11, 1811.

I have returned from Lancashire, 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 _"Fyttes."_ I have been again shocked with a _death_, and have lost one very dear to me in happier times [1]; but "I have almost forgot the taste of grief," and "supped full of horrors" [2] 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 with _my_ concerns, I should be glad to hear _your_ plans 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; where _you_ would 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, etc., etc., 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 to _you_, 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 be _picturesque_.

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_!!!!! [3] as he has done to some of my astonished friends, who wrote to inquire 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, etc.

[Footnote 1: The reference is to Edleston (see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 130, note 3 [Footnote 2 of Letter 74]), of whose death Miss Edleston had recently sent Byron an account.]

[Footnote 2:

"I have almost forgot the taste of fears: ... I have supp'd full with horrors."

'Macbeth', act v. sc. 5.]

[Footnote 3: Francis Hodgson, writing to Byron, October 8, 1811, says,

"Murray's shopman, taught, I presume, by himself, calls 'Psyche' 'Pishy,' 'The Four Slaves of Cythera' 'The Four do. of Cythera,' and 'Childe Harold's Pilgrimage' 'Child of Harrow's Pilgrimage.' This misnomering Vendor of Books must have been misbegotten in some portentous union of the Malaprops and the Slipslops."]

* * * * *

198.--To Francis 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 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-ladically _nervous_. 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 [1] is returned from Holland. I have always had a great respect for 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 Amsteli_ [2]

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 the passion of Christ; also the love of Lucifer for 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, [3] and ferocious notes on the vanity of the triple Editory of the _Edin. Annual Register_ [4]), 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 to do it for myself), this ineffable work will be lost to the world for--I don't know how many _weeks_.

_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage_ must wait till _Murray's_ is 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 [5] 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 Horner." [6]

The painter [7] 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 a _dry_ publisher.

Yours always,

B.

[Footnote 1: For Robert Bland, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 271, 'note' 1 [Footnote 2 of Letter 137]. In his 'Four Slaves of Cythera' (1809),