Chapter V: August, 1811-March, 1812 (1)

'CHILDE HAROLD', CANTOS I., II.

169.--To John Murray. [1]

Newstead Abbey, Notts., August 23, 1811.

Sir,--A domestic calamity in the death of a near relation [2] has hitherto prevented my addressing you on the subject of this letter. My friend, Mr. Dallas, [3] has placed in your hands a manuscript poem written by me in Greece, which he tells me you do not object to publishing. But he also informed me in London that you wished to send the MS. to Mr. Gifford. [4] Now, though no one would feel more gratified by the chance of obtaining his observations on a work than myself, there is in such a proceeding a kind of petition for praise, that neither my pride--or whatever you please to call it--will admit.

Mr. G. is not only the first satirist of the day, but editor of one of the principal reviews. As such, he is the last man whose censure (however eager to avoid it) I would deprecate by clandestine means. You will therefore retain the manuscript in your own care, or, if it must needs be shown, send it to another. Though not very patient of censure, I would fain obtain fairly any little praise my rhymes might deserve, at all events not by extortion, and the humble solicitations of a bandied-about MS. I am sure a little consideration will convince you it would be wrong.

If you determine on publication, I have some smaller poems (never published), a few notes, and a short dissertation on the literature of the modern Greeks (written at Athens), which will come in at the end of the volume.--And, if the present poem should succeed, it is my intention, at some subsequent period, to publish some selections from my first work,--my Satire,--another nearly the same length, and a few other things, with the MS. now in your hands, in two volumes.--But of these hereafter. You will apprize me of your determination.

I am, Sir, your very obedient, humble servant,

BYRON.

[Footnote 1: For John Murray, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 334, note 1 [Footnote 1 to Letter 167].]

[Footnote 2: Mrs. Byron died August I, 1811.]

[Footnote 3: For R. C. Dallas, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 168, note 1. [Footnote 1 to Letter 87]]

[Footnote 4: For Gifford, the editor of the 'Quarterly Review', see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 198, note 2. [Footnote 4 of Letter 102]]

* * * * *

170.--To James Wedderburn Webster. [1]

Newstead Abbey, August 24th, 1811.

MY DEAR W.,--Conceiving your wrath to be somewhat evaporated, and your Dignity recovered from the _Hysterics_ into which my innocent note from London had thrown it, I should feel happy to be informed how you have determined on the disposal of this accursed Coach, [2] which has driven us out of our Good humour and Good manners to a complete Standstill, from which I begin to apprehend that I am to lose altogether your valuable correspondence. Your angry letter arrived at a moment, to which I shall not allude further, as my happiness is best consulted in forgetting it. [3]

You have perhaps heard also of the death of poor Matthews, whom you recollect to have met at Newstead. He was one whom his friends will find it difficult to replace, nor will Cambridge ever see his equal.

I trust you are on the point of adding to your relatives instead of losing them, and of _friends_ a man of fortune will always have a plentiful stock--at his Table.

I dare say now you are gay, and connubial, and popular, so that in the next parliament we shall be having you a County Member. But beware your Tutor, for I am sure he Germanized that sanguinary letter; you must not write such another to your Constituents; for myself (as the mildest of men) I shall say no more about it.

Seriously, _mio Caro W._, if you can spare a moment from Matrimony, I shall be glad to hear that you have recovered from the pucker into which this _Vis_ (one would think it had been a _Sulky_) has thrown you; you know I wish you well, and if I have not inflicted my society upon you according to your own Invitation, it is only because I am not a social animal, and should feel sadly at a loss amongst Countesses and Maids of Honour, particularly being just come from a far Country, where Ladies are neither carved for, or fought for, or danced after, or mixed at all (publicly) with the Men-folks, so that you must make allowances for my natural _diffidence_ and two years travel.

But (God and yourself willing) I shall certes pay my promised visit, as I shall be in town, if Parliament meets, in October.

In the mean time let me hear from you (without a privy Council), and believe me in sober sadness,

Yours very sincerely,

BYRON.

[Footnote 1: James Wedderburn Webster (1789-1840), grandson of Sir A. Wedderburn, Bart., whose third son, David, assumed the additional name of Webster, was the author of 'Waterloo, and other Poems' (1816), and 'A Genealogical Account of the Wedderburn Family' (privately printed, 1819). He was with Byron, possibly at Cambridge, certainly at Athens in 1810. He married, in 1810, Lady Frances Caroline Annesley, daughter of Arthur, first Earl of Mountnorris and eighth Viscount Valencia. He was knighted in 1822. Byron, in 1813, lent him L1000. Lady Frances died in 1837, and her husband in 1840.

Moore ('Memoirs, Journals, etc.', vol. iii. p. 112) mentions dining with Webster at Paris in 1820.

"He told me," writes Moore, "that, one day, travelling from Newstead
to town with Lord Byron in his vis-a-vis, the latter kept his pistols
beside him, and continued silent for hours, with the most ferocious
expression possible on his countenance.

'For God's sake, my dear B.,' said W----at last, 'what are you
thinking of? Are you about to commit murder? or what other dreadful
thing are you meditating?'

To which Byron answered that he always had a sort of presentiment that
his own life would be attacked some time or other; and that this was
the reason of his always going armed, as it was also the subject of
his thoughts at that moment."

Moore also adds ('ibid'., p. 292),

"W. W. owes Lord Byron, he says, L1000, and does not seem to have the
slightest intention of paying him."

Lady Frances was the lady to whom Byron seriously devoted himself in 1813-4. Subsequently she was practically separated from her husband, and Byron, in 1823, endeavoured to reconcile them. Moore ('Memoirs, Journals, etc'., vol. ii. p. 249) writes,

"To the Devizes ball in the evening; Lady Frances W. there; introduced
to her, and had much conversation, chiefly about our friend Lord B.
Several of those beautiful things, published (if I remember right)
with the 'Bride', were addressed to her. She must have been very
pretty when she had more of the freshness of youth, though she is
still but five or six and twenty; but she looks faded already" (1819).

In the Court of Common Pleas, February 16, 1816, the libel action of 'Webster v. Baldwin' was heard. The plaintiff obtained L2000 in damages for a libel charging Lady Frances and the Duke of Wellington with adultery.]

[Footnote 2: On his return to London in July, 1811, Byron ordered a 'vis-a-vis' to be built by Goodall. This he exchanged for a carriage belonging to Webster, who, within a few weeks, resold the 'vis-a-vis' to Byron. The two following letters from Byron to Webster explain the transaction:--

"Reddish's Hotel, 29th July, 1811.

"MY DEAR WEBSTER,--As this eternal 'vis-a-vis' seems to sit heavy
on your soul, I beg leave to apprize you that I have arranged with
Goodall: you are to give me the promised Wheels, and the lining, with
'the Box at Brighton,' and I am to pay the stipulated sum.

I am obliged to you for your favourable opinion, and trust that the
happiness you talk so much of will be stationary, and not take those
freaks to which the felicity of common mortals is subject. I do very
sincerely wish you well, and am so convinced of the justice of your
matrimonial arguments, that I shall follow your example as soon as I
can get a sufficient price for my coronet. In the mean time I should
be happy to drill for my new situation under your auspices; but
business, inexorable business, keeps me here. Your letters are
forwarded. If I can serve you in any way, command me. I will endeavour
to fulfil your requests as awkwardly as another. I shall pay you a
visit, perhaps, in the autumn. Believe me, dear W.,

Yours unintelligibly,

B."

"Reddish's Hotel, July 31st, 1811.

MY DEAR W. W.,--I always understood that the 'lining' was to
accompany the 'carriage'; if not, the 'carriage' may
accompany the 'lining', for I will have neither the one nor the
other. In short, to prevent squabbling, this is my determination, so
decide;--if you leave it to my 'feelings' (as you say) they are
very strongly in favour of the said lining. Two hundred guineas for a
carriage with ancient lining!!! Rags and rubbish! You must write
another pamphlet, my dear W., before; but pray do not waste your time
and eloquence in expostulation, because it will do neither of us any
good, but decide--content or 'not' content. The best thing you
can do for the Tutor you speak of will be to send him in your Vis
(with the lining) to 'the U--Niversity of Goettingen.' How can you
suppose (now that my own Bear is dead) that I have any situation for a
German genius of this kind, till I get another, or some children? I am
infinitely obliged by your invitations, but I can't pay so high for a
second-hand chaise to make my friends a visit. The coronet will not
'grace' the 'pretty Vis,' till your tattered lining ceases to
'dis'grace it. Pray favour me with an answer, as we must finish
the affair one way or another immediately,--before next week.

Believe me, yours truly,

BYRON."

"Byron," says Webster, in a note, "was more than strict about
trifles."]

[Footnote 3: The death of Mrs. Byron, August 1, 1811.]

* * * * *

171.--To R. C. Dallas.

Newstead Abbey, August 25, 1811.

Being fortunately enabled to frank, I do not spare scribbling, having sent you packets within the last ten days. I am passing solitary, and do not expect my agent to accompany me to Rochdale [1] before the second week in September; a delay which perplexes me, as I wish the business over, and should at present welcome employment. I sent you exordiums, annotations, etc., for the forthcoming quarto, if quarto it is to be: and I also have written to Mr. Murray my objection to sending the MS. to Juvenal, [2] but allowing him to show it to any others of the calling. Hobhouse [3] is amongst the types already: so, between his prose and my verse, the world will be decently drawn upon for its paper-money and patience. Besides all this, my 'Imitation of Horace' [4] is gasping for the press at Cawthorn's, but I am hesitating as to the how and the when, the single or the double, the present or the future. You must excuse all this, for I have nothing to say in this lone mansion but of myself, and yet I would willingly talk or think of aught else.

What are you about to do? Do you think of perching in Cumberland, as you opined when I was in the metropolis? If you mean to retire, why not occupy Miss Milbanke's "Cottage of Friendship," late the seat of Cobbler Joe, [5] for whose death you and others are answerable? His "Orphan Daughter" (pathetic Pratt!) will, certes, turn out a shoemaking Sappho. Have you no remorse? I think that elegant address to Miss Dallas should be inscribed on the cenotaph which Miss Milbanke means to stitch to his memory.

The newspapers seem much disappointed at his Majesty's not dying, or doing something better. [6] I presume it is almost over. If parliament meets in October, I shall be in town to attend. I am also invited to Cambridge for the beginning of that month, but am first to jaunt to Rochdale. Now Matthews [7] is gone, and Hobhouse in Ireland, I have hardly one left there to bid me welcome, except my inviter. At three-and-twenty I am left alone, and what more can we be at seventy? It is true I am young enough to begin again, but with whom can I retrace the laughing part of life? It is odd how few of my friends have died a quiet death,--I mean, in their beds. But a quiet life is of more consequence. Yet one loves squabbling and jostling better than yawning. This 'last word' admonishes me to relieve you from

Yours very truly, etc.

[Footnote 1: For Byron's Rochdale property, which was supposed to contain a quantity of coal, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 78, 'note' 2. [Footnote 2 of Letter 34]]

[Footnote 2: Gifford.]

[Footnote 3: For John Cam Hobhouse, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 163, 'note' 1. [Footnote 1 of Letter 86]]

[Footnote 4: The poem remained unpublished till after Byron's death. (See 'note', p. 23, and 'Poems', ed. 1898, vol. i. pp. 385-450.) ]

[Footnote 5:

"In Seaham churchyard, without any memorial," says Mr. Surtees, "rest
the remains of Joseph Blacket, an unfortunate child of genius, whose
last days were soothed by the generous attention of the family of
Milbanke."

'Hist. of Durham', vol. i. p. 272. (See also 'Letters', vol. i. p. 314, 'note' 2 [Footnote 2 of Letter 154]. For Miss Milbanke, afterwards Lady Byron, see p. 118, 'note' 4.) [Footnote 1 of Letter 7]]

[Footnote 6: On July 28, 1811, Lord Grenville wrote to Lord Auckland,

"It is, I believe, certainly true that the King has taken for the last
three days scarcely any food at all, and that, unless a change takes
place very shortly in that respect, he cannot survive many days"

('Auckland Correspondence', vol. iv. p. 366). It was, however, the mind, and not the physical strength that failed.

"The King, I should suppose," wrote Lord Buckinghamshire, on August
13, "is not likely to die soon, but I fear his mental recovery is
hardly to be expected."

('ibid'., vol. iv. p. 367). George III. never, except for brief intervals, recovered his reason.]

[Footnote 7: For C. S. Matthews, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 150, 'note' 3. [Footnote 2 of Letter 84]]

* * * * *

172.--To R. C. Dallas. [1]

Newstead Abbey, Aug. 27, 1811.

I was so sincere in my note on the late Charles Matthews, and do feel myself so totally unable to do justice to his talents, that the passage must stand for the very reason you bring against it. To him all the men I ever knew were pigmies. He was an intellectual giant. It is true I loved Wingfield [2] better; he was the earliest and the dearest, and one of the few one could never repent of having loved: but in ability--ah! you did not know Matthews!

'Childe Harold' may wait and welcome--books are never the worse for delay in the publication. So you have got our heir, George Anson Byron, [3] and his sister, with you.

You may say what you please, but you are one of the 'murderers' of Blackett, and yet you won't allow Harry White's genius. [4]

Setting aside his bigotry, he surely ranks next Chatterton. It is astonishing how little he was known; and at Cambridge no one thought or heard of such a man till his death rendered all notice useless. For my own part, I should have been most proud of such an acquaintance: his very prejudices were respectable. There is a sucking epic poet at Granta, a Mr. Townsend, [5] 'protege' of the late Cumberland. Did you ever hear of him and his 'Armageddon'? I think his plan (the man I don't know) borders on the sublime: though, perhaps, the anticipation of the "Last Day" (according to you Nazarenes) is a little too daring: at least, it looks like telling the Lord what he is to do, and might remind an ill-natured person of the line,

"And fools rush in where angels fear to tread."

But I don't mean to cavil, only other folks will, and he may bring all the lambs of Jacob Behmen about his ears. However, I hope he will bring it to a conclusion, though Milton is in his way.

Write to me--I dote on gossip--and make a bow to Ju--, and shake George by the hand for me; but, take care, for he has a sad sea paw.

P.S.--I would ask George here, but I don't know how to amuse him--all my horses were sold when I left England, and I have not had time to replace them. Nevertheless, if he will come down and shoot in September, he will be very welcome: but he must bring a gun, for I gave away all mine to Ali Pacha, and other Turks. Dogs, a keeper, and plenty of game, with a very large manor, I have--a lake, a boat, houseroom, and _neat wines_.

[Footnote 1: Dallas, writing to Byron, August 18, 1811, had said,

"I have been reading the 'Remains' of Kirke White, and find that you
have to answer for misleading me. He does not, in my opinion, merit
the high praise you have bestowed upon him."

Writing again, August 26, he objected to the 'note' on Matthews in 'Childe Harold':

"In your note, as it stands, it strikes me that the eulogy on Matthews
is a 'little' at the expense of Wingfield and others whom you
'have' commemorated. I should think it quite enough to say that
his Powers and Attainments were above all praise, without expressly
admitting them to be above that of a Muse who soars high in the praise
of others."]

[Footnote 2: For Wingfield, see 'Letters', vol. i, p. 180, 'note' 1. [Footnote 2 of Letter 92]]

[Footnote: For George Anson Byron, afterwards Lord Byron, and his sister Julia, see 'Letters', vol. i, p. 188, 'note' 1.[Footnote 1 of Letter 96]]

[Footnote 4: For H. K. White, see 'Letters', vol. i, p. 336, 'note' 2. [Footnote 3 of Letter 167]]

[Footnote 5: The Rev. George Townsend (1788-1857) of Trinity College, Cambridge, published 'Poems' in 1810, and eight books of his 'Armageddon' in 1815. The remaining four books were never published. Townsend became a Canon of Durham in 1825, and held the stall till his death in 1857. Richard Cumberland, dramatist, novelist, and essayist (1732-1811), the "Sir Fretful Plagiary" of 'The Critic', announced the forthcoming poem in the 'London Review'; but, as Townsend says, in the Preface to 'Armageddon', praised him "too abundantly and prematurely." "My talents," he adds, "were neither equal to my own ambition, nor his zeal to serve me." (See 'Hints from Horace', lines 191-212, and Byron's 'note' to line 191, 'Poems', ed. 1898, vol. i. p. 403.)]

* * * * *

173.--To the Hon. Augusta Leigh. [1]

Newstead Abbey, August 30th, 1811.

My Dear Augusta,--The embarrassments you mention in your last letter I never heard of before, but that disease is epidemic in our family. Neither have I been apprised of any of the changes at which you hint, indeed how should I? On the borders of the Black Sea, we heard only of the Russians. So you have much to tell, and all will be novelty.

I don't know what Scrope Davies [2] meant by telling you I liked Children, I abominate the sight of them so much that I have always had the greatest respect for the character of Herod. But, as my house here is large enough for us all, we should go on very well, and I need not tell you that I long to see _you_. I really do not perceive any thing so formidable in a Journey hither of two days, but all this comes of Matrimony, you have a Nurse and all the etceteras of a family. Well, I must marry to repair the ravages of myself and prodigal ancestry, but if I am ever so unfortunate as to be presented with an Heir, instead of a _Rattle_ he shall be provided with a _Gag_.

I shall perhaps be able to accept D's invitation to Cambridge, but I fear my stay in Lancashire will be prolonged, I proceed there in the 2d week in Septr to arrange my coal concerns, & then if I can't persuade some wealthy dowdy to ennoble the dirty puddle of her mercantile Blood,--why--I shall leave England and all it's clouds for the East again; I am very sick of it already. Joe [3] has been getting well of a disease that would have killed a troop of horse; he promises to bear away the palm of longevity from old Parr. As you won't come, you will write; I long to hear all those unutterable things, being utterly unable to guess at any of them, unless they concern _your_ relative the Thane of Carlisle, [4] though I had great hopes we had done with him.

I have little to add that you do not already know, and being quite alone, have no great variety of incident to gossip with; I am but rarely pestered with visiters, and the few I have I get rid of as soon as possible. I will now take leave of you in the Jargon of 1794. "Health & _Fraternity!"_

Yours always, B.

[Footnote 1: For the Hon. Augusta Leigh, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 18, 'note' 1. [Footnote 1 of Letter 7] Byron's letter is in answer to the following from his half-sister:

"6 Mile Bottom, Aug. 27th.

"My Dearest Brother,--Your letter was stupidly sent to Town to me on
Sunday, from whence I arrived at home yesterday; consequently I have
not received it so soon as I ought to have done. I feel so very happy
to have the pleasure of hearing from you that I will not delay a
moment answering it, altho' I am in all the delights of 'unpacking',
and afraid of being too late for the Post.

"I have been a fortnight in Town, and went up on my 'eldest' little
girl's account. She had been very unwell for some time, and I could
not feel happy till I had better advice than this neighbourhood
affords. She is, thank Heaven! much better, and I hope in a fair way
to be quite 'herself' again. Mr. Davies flattered me by saying she was
exactly the sort of child 'you' would delight in. I am determined not
to say another word in her praise for fear you should accuse me of
partiality and expect too much. The youngest ('little' Augusta) is
just 6 months old, and has no particular merit at present but a very
sweet placid temper.

"Oh! that I could immediately set out to Newstead and shew them to
you. I can't tell you 'half' the happiness it would give me to see it
and 'you'; but, my dearest B., it is a long journey and serious
undertaking all things considered. Mr. Davies writes me word you
promise to make him a visit bye and bye; 'pray do', you can then so
easily come here. I have set my heart upon it. Consider how very long
it is since I've seen you.

"I have indeed 'much' to tell you; but it is more easily 'said' than
'written'. Probably you have heard of many changes in our situation
since you left England; in a 'pecuniary' point of view it is
materially altered for the worse; perhaps in other respects better.
Col. Leigh has been in Dorsetshire and Sussex during my stay in Town.
I expect him at home towards the end of this week, and hope to make
him acquainted with you ere long.

"I have not time to write half I have to say, for my letter must go;
but I prefer writing in a hurry to not writing at all. You can't think
how much I feel for your griefs and losses, or how much and constantly
I have thought of you lately. I began a letter to you in Town, but
destroyed it, from the fear of appearing troublesome. There are times,
I know, when one cannot write with any degree of comfort or
satisfaction. I intend to do so again shortly, so I hope yon won't
think me a bore.

"Remember me most kindly to Old Joe. I rejoice to hear of his health
and prosperity. Your letter (some parts of it at least) made me laugh.
I am so very glad to hear you have sufficiently overcome your
prejudices against the 'fair sex' to have determined upon marrying;
but I shall be most anxious that my future 'Belle Soeur' should have
more attractions than merely money, though to be sure 'that' is
somewhat necessary. I have not another moment, dearest B., so forgive
me if I write again very soon, and believe me,

"Your most affec'tn Sister, A. L.

"Do write if you can."]

[Footnote 2: For Scrope Berdmore Davies, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 165, 'note' 2. [Footnote 2 of Letter 86] The following story is told of him by Byron, in a passage of his 'Detached Thoughts' (Ravenna, 1821):

"One night Scrope Davies at a Gaming house (before I was of age),
being tipsy as he usually was at the Midnight hour, and having lost
monies, was in vain intreated by his friends, one degree less
intoxicated than himself, to come or go home. In despair, he was left
to himself and to the demons of the dice-box.

"Next day, being visited about two of the Clock, by some friends just
risen with a severe headache and empty pockets (who had left him
losing at four or five in the morning), he was found in a sound sleep,
without a night-cap, and not particularly encumbered with
bed-cloathes: a Chamber-pot stood by his bed-side, brim-full
of---'Bank Notes!', all won, God knows how, and crammed, Scrope knew
not where; but THERE they were, all good legitimate notes, and to the
amount of some thousand pounds."]

[Footnote 3: For Joe Murray, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 21, 'note' 3. [Footnote 4 of Letter 7]]

[Footnote 4: For the Earl of Carlisle, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 36, 'note' 2. [Footnote 3 of Letter 13]]

* * * * *

174.-To the Hon. Augusta Leigh.

Newstead Abbey, Aug'st 30th, 1811.

MY DEAR AUGUSTA,--I wrote to you yesterday, and as you will not be very sorry to hear from me again, considering our long separation, I shall fill up this sheet before I go to bed. I have heard something of a quarrel between your spouse and the Prince, I don't wish to pry into family secrets or to hear anything more of the matter, but I can't help regretting on your account that so long an intimacy should be dissolved at the very moment when your husband might have derived some advantage from his R. H.'s friendship. However, at all events, and in all Situations, you have a brother in me, and a home here.

I am led into this train of thinking by a part of your letter which hints at pecuniary losses. I know how delicate one ought to be on such subjects, but you are probably the only being on Earth _now_ interested in my welfare, certainly the only relative, and I should be very ungrateful if I did not feel the obligation. You must excuse my being a little cynical, knowing how my _temper_ was tried in my Non-age; the manner in which I was brought up must necessarily have broken a meek Spirit, or rendered a fiery one ungovernable; the effect it has had on mine I need not state.

However, buffeting with the World has brought me a little to reason, and two years travel in distant and barbarous countries has accustomed me to bear privations, and consequently to laugh at many things which would have made me angry before. But I am wandering--in short I only want to assure you that I love you, and that you must not think I am indifferent, because I don't shew my affection in the usual way.

Pray can't you contrive to pay me a visit between this and Xmas? or shall I carry you down with me from Cambridge, supposing it practicable for me to come? You will do what you please, without our interfering with each other; the premises are so delightfully extensive, that two people might live together without ever seeing, hearing or meeting,--but I can't feel the comfort of this till I marry. In short it would be the most amiable matrimonial mansion, and that is another great inducement to my plan,--my wife and I shall be so happy,--one in each Wing. If this description won't make you come, I can't tell what will, you must please yourself. Good night, I have to walk half a mile to my Bed chamber. Yours ever, BYRON.

* * * * *

175.--To James Wedderburn Webster.

Newstead Abbey, Notts., Aug'st 31st, 1811.

MY DEAR W.,--I send you back your friend's letter, and, though I don't agree with his Canons of Criticism, they are not the worse for that. My friend Hodgson [1] is not much honoured by the comparison to the 'Pursuits of L.', which is notoriously, as far as the 'poetry' goes, the worst written of its kind; the World has been long but of one opinion, viz. that it's sole merit lies in the Notes, which are indisputably excellent.

Had Hodgson's "Alterative" been placed with the 'Baviad' the compliment had been higher to both; for, surely, the 'Baviad' is as much superior to H.'s poem, as I do firmly believe H.'s poem to be to the 'Pursuits of Literature'.

Your correspondent talks for talking's sake when he says "Lady J. Grey" is neither "Epic, dramatic, or legendary." Who ever said it was "epic" or "dramatic"? he might as well say his letter was neither "epic or dramatic;" the poem makes no pretensions to either character. "Legendary" it certainly is, but what has that to do with its merits? All stories of that kind founded on facts are in a certain degree legendary, but they may be well or ill written without the smallest alteration in that respect. When Mr. Hare prattles about the "Economy," etc., he sinks sadly;--all such expressions are the mere cant of a schoolboy hovering round the Skirts of Criticism.

Hodgson's tale is one of the best efforts of his Muse, and Mr. H.'s approbation must be of more consequence, before any body will reduce it to a "Scale," or be much affected by "the place" he "assigns" to the productions of a man like Hodgson.

But I have said more than I intended and only beg you never to allow yourself to be imposed upon by such "common place" as the 6th form letter you sent me. Judge for yourself.

I know the Mr. Bankes [2] you mention though not to that "extreme" you seem to think, but I am flattered by his "boasting" on such a subject (as you say), for I never thought him likely to "boast" of any thing which was not his own. I am not "'melancholish'"--pray what "'folk'" dare to say any such thing? I must contradict them by being 'merry' at their expence.

I shall invade you in the course of the winter, out of envy, as Lucifer looked at Adam and Eve.

Pray be as happy as you can, and write to me that I may catch the infection.

Yours ever, BYRON.

[Footnote 1: Webster had sent Byron a letter from Naylor Hare, in which the latter criticized Hodgson's poems, 'Lady Jane Grey, a Tale; and other Poems (1809)' (see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 195, 'note 1' [Footnote 1 of Letter 102]).

In the volume (pp. 56-77) was printed his "Gentle Alterative prepared for the Reviewers," which Hare apparently compared to 'The Pursuits of Literature (1794-97)', by T. J. Mathias.

To this criticism Byron objected, saying that the "Alterative" might be more fairly compared to Gifford's 'Baviad' (1794).]

[Footnote 2: For William John Bankes, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 120, 'note' 1. [Footnote 1 of Letter 67]]

* * * * *

176.---To the Hon. Augusta Leigh. [1]

Newstead Abbey, Sept. 2d, 1811.

My dear Augusta,--I wrote you a vastly dutiful letter since my answer to your second epistle, and I now write you a third, for which you have to thank Silence and Solitude. Mr. Hanson [2] comes hither on the 14th, and I am going to Rochdale on business, but that need not prevent you from coming here, you will find Joe, and the house and the cellar and all therein very much at your Service.

As to Lady B., when I discover one rich enough to suit me and foolish enough to have me, I will give her leave to make me miserable if she can. Money is the magnet; as to Women, one is as well as another, the older the better, we have then a chance of getting her to Heaven. So, your Spouse does not like brats better than myself; now those who beget them have no right to find fault, but _I_ may rail with great propriety.

My "Satire!"--I am glad it made you laugh for Somebody told me in Greece that you was angry, and I was sorry, as you were perhaps the only person whom I did _not_ want to _make angry_.

But how you will make _me laugh_ I don't know, for it is a vastly _serious_ subject to me I assure you; therefore take care, or I shall hitch _you_ into the next Edition to make up our family party. Nothing so fretful, so despicable as a Scribbler, see what _I_ am, and what a parcel of Scoundrels I have brought about my ears, and what language I have been obliged to treat them with to deal with them in their own way;--all this comes of Authorship, but now I am in for it, and shall be at war with Grubstreet, till I find some better amusement.

You will write to me your Intentions and may almost depend on my being at Cambridge in October. You say you mean to be etc. in the _Autumn_; I should be glad to know what you call this present Season, it would be Winter in every other Country which I have seen. If we meet in October we will travel in my _Vis_. and can have a cage for the children and a cart for the Nurse. Or perhaps we can forward them by the Canal. Do let us know all about it, your "_bright thought_" is a little clouded, like the Moon in this preposterous climate.

Good even, Child.

Yours ever, B.

[Footnote 1: The following is Mrs. Leigh's letter, to which the above is an answer:

"6 Mile Bottom, Saturday, 31 Aug.

"My dearest brother,--I hope you don't dislike receiving letters so
much as writing them, for you would in that case pronounce me a great
torment. But as I prepared you in my last for its being followed very
soon by another, I hope you will have reconciled your mind to the
impending toil. I really wrote in such a hurry that I did not say half
I wished; but I did not like to delay telling you how happy you made
me by writing. I have been dwelling constantly upon the idea of going
to Newstead ever since I had your wish to see me there. At last a
_bright thought_ struck me.

"We intend, I believe, to go to Yorkshire in the autumn. Now, if I
could contrive to pay you a visit _en passant_, it would be
delightful, and give me the greatest pleasure. But I fear you would be
obliged to make up your mind to receive my _Brats_ too. As for my
husband, he prefers the _outside of the Mail_ to _the inside of a
Post-Chaise_, particularly when partly occupied by Nurse and Children,
so that we always travel _independent_ of each other.

"So much for this, my dear B. I can only say I should _much_ like to
see you at Newstead. The former I hope I shall at all events, as you
must not be shabby, but come to Cambridge as you promised. Are you
staying at Newstead now for any time? I saw George Byron in Town for
one day, and he promised to call or write again, but has not done
either, so I begin to think he has gone back to Lisbon. I think it is
impossible not to like him; he is so good-natured and natural. We
talked much of you; he told me you were grown very thin; as you don't
complain, I hope you are not the worse for being so, and I remember
you used to wish it. Don't you think _it a great shame_ that George B.
is not promoted? I wish there was any possibility of assisting him
about it; but all I know who _could_ do any good with you _present_
Ministers, I don't for many reasons like to ask. Perhaps there may be
a change bye and bye.

"Fred Howard is married to Miss _Lambton_. I saw them in town in their
way to Castle Howard. I hope he will be happy with all my heart; his
kindness and friendship to us last year, when Col. _Leigh_ was placed
in one of the most perplexing situations that I think anybody could be
in, is never to be forgotten. I think he used to be a greater
favourite with you than some others of his family. _Mrs. F.H._ is very
pretty, _very_ young (not quite 17), and appears gentle and pleasing,
which is all one can expect [to discover from] a very slight
acquaintance.

"Now, my dearest Byron, pray let me hear from you. I shall be daily
expecting to hear of a _Lady Byron_, since you have confided to me
your determination of marrying, in which I really hope you are
serious, being convinced such an event would contribute greatly to
your happiness, PROVIDED _her Ladyship_ was the sort of person that
would suit you; and you won't be angry with me for saying that it is
not EVERY _one_ who would; therefore don't be too _precipitate_. You
will _wish me hanged_, I fear, for boring you so unmercifully, so God
bless you, my dearest Bro.; and, when you have time, do write. Are you
going to amuse us with any more _Satires_? Oh, _English Bards!_ I
shall make you laugh (when we meet) about it.

"Ever your most affectionate Sis. and Friend,

"A. L."]

[Footnote 2: For John Hanson, see Letters, vol. i. p. 8, note 2. [Footnote 1 of Letter 3]]

* * * * *

177.--To Francis Hodgson.

Newstead Abbey, Sept. 3, 1811.

MY DEAR HODGSON,--I will have nothing to do with your immortality; [1] we are miserable enough in this life, without the absurdity of speculating upon another. If men are to live, why die at all? and if they die, why disturb the sweet and sound sleep that "knows no waking"?

"Post Mortem nihil est, ipsaque Mors nihil ... quaeris quo jaceas post
obitum loco? Quo _non_ Nata jacent." [2]

As to revealed religion, Christ came to save men; but a good Pagan will go to heaven, and a bad Nazarene to hell; "Argal" (I argue like the gravedigger) why are not all men Christians? or why are any? If mankind may be saved who never heard or dreamt, at Timbuctoo, Otaheite, Terra Incognita, etc., of Galilee and its Prophet, Christianity is of no avail: if they cannot be saved without, why are not all orthodox? It is a little hard to send a man preaching to Judaea, and leave the rest of the world--Negers and what not--_dark_ as their complexions, without a ray of light for so many years to lead them on high; and who will believe that God will damn men for not knowing what they were never taught? I hope I am sincere; I was so at least on a bed of sickness in a far-distant country, when I had neither friend, nor comforter, nor hope, to sustain me. I looked to death as a relief from pain, without a wish for an after-life, but a confidence that the God who punishes in this existence had left that last asylum for the weary.

[Greek: Hon ho theos agapaei apothnaeskei neos.] [3]

I am no Platonist, I am nothing at all; but I would sooner be a Paulician, Manichean, Spinozist, Gentile, Pyrrhonian, Zoroastrian, than one of the seventy-two villainous sects who are tearing each other to pieces for the love of the Lord and hatred of each other. Talk of Galileeism? Show me the effects--are you better, wiser, kinder by your precepts? I will bring you ten Mussulmans shall shame you in all goodwill towards men, prayer to God, and duty to their neighbours. And is there a Talapoin, [4] or a Bonze, who is not superior to a fox-hunting curate? But I will say no more on this endless theme; let me live, well if possible, and die without pain. The rest is with God, who assuredly, had He _come_ or _sent_, would have made Himself manifest to nations, and intelligible to all.

I shall rejoice to see you. My present intention is to accept Scrope Davies's invitation; and then, if you accept mine, we shall meet _here_ and _there_. Did you know poor Matthews? I shall miss him much at Cambridge.

[Footnote 1: The religious discussion arose out of the opening stanzas of 'Childe Harold', Canto II., which Hodgson was helping to correct for the press.

Byron's opinions were not newly formed, as is shown by the following letter to Ensign Long (see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 73, 'note 2' [Footnote 2 of Letter 31]), which reached the Editor too late for insertion in its proper place:

Southwell, Ap: 16th, 1807.

"Your Epistle, my dear Standard Bearer, augurs not much in favour of
your new life, particularly the latter part, where you say your
happiest Days are over. I most sincerely hope not. The past has
certainly in some parts been pleasant, but I trust will be equalled,
if not exceeded by the future. You hope it is not so with me.

"To be plain with Regard to myself. Nature stampt me in the Die of
Indifference. I consider myself as destined never to be happy,
although in some instances fortunate. I am an isolated Being on the
Earth, without a Tie to attach me to life, except a few
School-fellows, and a 'score of females.' Let me but 'hear my fame on
the winds' and the song of the Bards in my Norman house, I ask no more
and don't expect so much. Of Religion I know nothing, at least in its
'favour'. We have 'fools' in all sects and Impostors in most; why
should I believe mysteries no one understands, because written by men
who chose to mistake madness for Inspiration, and style themselves
'Evangelicals?' However enough on this subject. Your 'piety' will be
'aghast,' and I wish for no proselytes. This much I will venture to
affirm, that all the virtues and pious 'Deeds' performed on Earth can
never entitle a man to Everlasting happiness in a future State; nor on
the other hand can such a Scene as a Seat of eternal punishment exist,
it is incompatible with the benign attributes of a Deity to suppose
so.

"I am surrounded here by parsons and methodists, but, as you will
see, not infected with the mania. I have lived a 'Deist', what I shall
die I know not; however, come what may, 'ridens moriar'.

"Nothing detains me here but the publication, which will not be
complete till June. About 20 of the present pieces will be cut out,
and a number of new things added. Amongst them a complete Episode of
Nisus and Euryalus from Virgil, some Odes from Anacreon, and several
original Odes, the whole will cover 170 pages. My last production has
been a poem in imitation of Ossian, which I shall not publish, having
enough without it. Many of the present poems are enlarged and altered,
in short you will behold an 'Old friend with a new face.' Were I to
publish all I have written in Rhyme, I should fill a decent Quarto;
however, half is quite enough at present. You shall have 'all' when we
meet.

"I grow thin daily; since the commencement of my System I have lost 23
lbs. in my weight '(i.e.)' 1 st. and 9 lbs. When I began I weighed 14
st. 6 lbs., and on Tuesday I found myself reduced to 12 st. 11 lb.
What sayest thou, Ned? do you not envy? I shall still proceed till I
arrive at 12 st. and then stop, at least if I am not too fat, but
shall always live temperately and take much exercise.

"If there is a possibility we shall meet in June. I shall be in Town,
before I proceed to Granta, and if the 'mountain will not come to
Mahomet, Mahomet will go to the mountain.' I don't mean, by comparing
you to the mountain, to insinuate anything on the Subject of your
Size. Xerxes, it is said, formed Mount Athos into the Shape of a
Woman; had he lived now, and taken a peep at Chatham, he would have
spared himself the trouble and made it unnecessary by finding a 'Hill'
ready cut to his wishes.

"Adieu, dear Mont Blanc, or rather 'Mont Rouge'; don't, for Heaven's
sake, turn Volcanic, at least roll the Lava of your indignation in any
other Channel, and not consume Your's ever,

"BYRON.

"_Write Immediately_."

Byron lived to modify these opinions, as is shown by the following passages from his 'Detached Thoughts':

"If I were to live over again, I do not know what I would change in my
life, unless it were 'for--not to have lived at all'. All history and
experience, and the rest, teaches us that the good and evil are pretty
equally balanced in this existence, and that what is most to be
desired is an easy passage out of it. What can it give us but years?
and those have little of good but their ending.

"Of the immortality of the soul it appears to me that there can be
little doubt, if we attend for a moment to the action of mind; it is
in perpetual activity. I used to doubt of it, but reflection has
taught me better. It acts also so very independent of body--in dreams,
for instance;--incoherently and 'madly', I grant you, but still it is
mind, and much more mind than when we are awake. Now that this should
not act 'separately', as well as jointly, who can pronounce? The
stoics, Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius, call the present state 'a soul
which drags a carcass,'--a heavy chain, to be sure; but all chains
being material may be shaken off. How far our future life will be
'individual', or, rather, how far it will at all resemble our
'present' existence, is another question; but that the mind is eternal
seems as probable as that the body is not so. Of course I here venture
upon the question without recurring to Revelation, which, however, is
at least as rational a solution of it as any other. A 'material'
resurrection seems strange, and even absurd, except for purposes of
punishment; and all punishment which is to 'revenge' rather than
'correct' must be 'morally wrong'; and 'when the world is at an end',
what moral or warning purpose 'can' eternal tortures answer? Human
passions have probably disfigured the divine doctrines here;--but the
whole thing is inscrutable."

"It is useless to tell me 'not' to 'reason', but to 'believe'. You
might as well tell a man not to wake, but 'sleep'. And then to 'bully'
with torments, and all that! I cannot help thinking that the 'menace'
of hell makes as many devils as the severe penal codes of inhuman
humanity make villains."

"Man is born 'passionate' of body, but with an innate though secret
tendency to the love of good in his main-spring of mind. But, God help
us all! it is at present a sad jar of atoms."]

[Footnote 2: The lines are quoted from Seneca's 'Troades' (act ii. et seqq.):

"Post mortem nihil est, ipsaque mors nihil.
........
........
Quaeris, quo jaceas post obitum loco?
Quo non nata jacent."]

[Footnote 3: The sentiment is found in one of the [Greek: monostichoi] of Menander ('Menandri et Philemonis reliquiae,' edidit Augustus Meineke, p. 48). It is thus quoted by Stobaeus ('Florilegium', cxx. 8) as an iambic:

[Greek: Hon oi theoi philousin apothnaeskei neos.]

In the 'Comicorum Graecorum Sententiae, id est' [Greek: gnomai](p. 219, ed, Henricus Stephanus, MDLXIX.) it is quoted as a leonine verse:

[Greek: Hon gar philei theos apothnaeskei neos.]

Plautus gives it thus ('Bacchides', iv. 7):

"Quem di diligunt adolescens moritur."]

[Footnote 4: The word is said to be illegible, and the conclusion of the letter to be lost ('Memoir of the Rev. Francis Hodgson', vol. i. p. 196). Only the latter statement is correct. The word is perfectly legible. Talapoin (Yule's 'Glossary of Anglo-Indian Words, sub voce') is the name used by the Portuguese, and after them by the French writers, and by English travellers of the seventeenth century (Hakluyt, ed. 1807, vol. ii. p. 93; and Purchas, ed. 1645, vol. ii. p. 1747), to designate the Buddhist monks of Ceylon and the Indo-Chinese countries. Pallegoix ('Description du Royaume Thai ou Siam', vol. ii. p. 23) says,

"Les Europeens les ont appeles 'talapoins', probablement du nom de
l'eventail qu'ils tiennent a la main, lequel s'appelle 'talapat', qui
signifie 'feuille de palmier'."

Possibly Byron knew the word through Voltaire ('Dial.' xxii., 'Andre des Couches a Siam');

"'A. des C.': Combien avez-vous de soldats?

'Croutef.': Quatre-vingt mille, fort mediocrement payes.

'A. des C.': Et de talapoins?

'Cr.': Cent vingt-mille, tous faineans et tres riches," etc.]

* * * * *

178.--To R.C. Dallas.

Newstead Abbey, September 4th, 1811.

My dear Sir,--I am at present anxious, as Cawthorn seems to wish it, to have a small edition of the 'Hints from Horace' [1] published immediately, but the Latin (the most difficult poem in the language) renders it necessary to be very particular not only in correcting the proofs with Horace open, but in adapting the parallel passages of the imitation in such places to the original as may enable the reader not to lose sight of the allusion. I don't know whether I ought to ask you to do this, but I am too far off to do it for myself; and if you condescend to my school-boy erudition, you will oblige me by setting this thing going, though you will smile at the importance I attach to it.

Believe me, ever yours,

BYRON.

[Footnote 1: 'Hints from Horace', written during Byron's second stay at Athens, March 11-14, 1811, and subsequently added to, had been placed in the hands of Cawthorn, the publisher of 'English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers', for publication. Byron afterwards changed his mind, and the poem remained unpublished till after his death.

The following letter from Cawthorn shows that considerable progress had been made with the printing of the poem, and that Byron also contemplated another edition of 'English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers'. The advice of his friends led him to abandon both plans; but his letter to Cawthorn, printed below, is evidence that in September he was still at work on 'Hints from Horace':

"24, Cockspur Street, Aug. 22'd, 1811.

"My Lord,--Mr. Green the Amanuensis has finished the Latin of the
Horace, and I shall be happy to do with it as your Lordship may
direct, either to forward it to Newstead, or keep it in Town. Would it
not be better to print a small edition seperate ('sic'), and
afterwards print the two satires together? This I leave to your
Lordship's consideration. Four Sheets of the 'Travels' are already
printed, and one of the plates (Albanian Solain) is executed. I sent
it Capt. H[obhouse] yesterday to Cork, to see if it meets his
approbation. The work is printed in quarto, for which I may be in some
measure indebted to your Lordship, as I urged it so strongly. I shall
be extremely sorry if Capt. H. is not pleased with it, but I think he
will. Your Lordship's goodness will excuse me for saying how much the
very sudden and melancholy events that have lately transpired--I
regret--Capt. Hobhouse has written me since the decease of Mr.
Mathews. I am told Capt. H. is very much affected at it. I have
received some drawings of costumes from him, which I am to deliver to
your Lordship. Is it likely we shall see your Lordship in Town soon?

"I have the honour to be your Lordship's

"Most respectful and greatly obliged Servt.,

"JAMES CAWTHORN.

"If a small edition is printed of 'Horace' for the first" [words
erased] "that, and I think in all probability the 'E. Bards' will want
reprinting about March next, when both could be done together. Do not
think me too sanguine."

A few days later, Byron writes to Cawthom as follows:

"Newstead Abbey, September 4th, 1811.