('Autobiography, Letters, and Literary Remains', vol. ii. p. 246).]

[Footnote 8: Dr. Johnson never saw 'Cecilia' (1782) till it was in print. A day or two before publication, Miss Burney sent three copies to the three persons who had the best claim to them—her father, Mrs. Thrale, and Dr. Johnson.]



* * * * *



213.—To Francis Hodgson.

London, Dec. 8, 1811.

I sent you a sad Tale of Three Friars the other day, and now take a dose in another style. I wrote it a day or two ago, on hearing a song of former days.

"Away, away, ye notes of woe," etc., etc. [1]

I have gotten a book by Sir W. Drummond (printed, but not published), entitled OEdipus Judaicus in which he attempts to prove the greater part of the Old Testament an allegory, particularly Genesis and Joshua. He professes himself a theist in the preface, and handles the literal interpretation very roughly. I wish you could see it. Mr. Ward [2] has lent it me, and I confess to me it is worth fifty Watsons.

You and Harness must fix on the time for your visit to Newstead; I can command mine at your wish, unless any thing particular occurs in the interim. Master William Harness and I have recommenced a most fiery correspondence; I like him as Euripides liked Agatho, or Darby admired Joan, as much for the past as the present. Bland dines with me on Tuesday to meet Moore. Coleridge has attacked the Pleasures of Hope, and all other pleasures whatsoever. Mr. Rogers was present, and heard himself indirectly rowed by the lecturer. We are going in a party to hear the new Art of Poetry by this reformed schismatic [3]; and were I one of these poetical luminaries, or of sufficient consequence to be noticed by the man of lectures, I should not hear him without an answer. For you know,

"an a man will be beaten with brains, he shall never keep a clean doublet." [4]

Campbell [5] will be desperately annoyed. I never saw a man (and of him I have seen very little) so sensitive;—what a happy temperament! I am sorry for it; what can he fear from criticism? I don't know if Bland has seen Miller, who was to call on him yesterday.

To-day is the Sabbath,—a day I never pass pleasantly, but at Cambridge; and, even there, the organ is a sad remembrancer. Things are stagnant enough in town; as long as they don't retrograde, 'tis all very well. Hobhouse writes and writes and writes, and is an author. I do nothing but eschew tobacco. [6] I wish parliament were assembled, that I may hear, and perhaps some day be heard;—but on this point I am not very sanguine. I have many plans;—sometimes I think of the East again, and dearly beloved Greece. I am well, but weakly. Yesterday Kinnaird [7] told me I looked very ill, and sent me home happy.

You will never give up wine. See what it is to be thirty! if you were six years younger, you might leave off anything. You drink and repent; you repent and drink.

Is Scrope still interesting and invalid? And how does Hinde with his cursed chemistry? To Harness I have written, and he has written, and we have all written, and have nothing now to do but write again, till Death splits up the pen and the scribbler.

The Alfred [8] has three hundred and fifty-four candidates for six vacancies. The cook has run away and left us liable, which makes our committee very plaintive. Master Brook, our head serving-man, has the gout, and our new cook is none of the best. I speak from report,—for what is cookery to a leguminous-eating Ascetic? So now you know as much of the matter as I do. Books and quiet are still there, and they may dress their dishes in their own way for me. Let me know your determination as to Newstead, and believe me, Yours ever,

[Greek: Mpairon.]



[Footnote 1: Here follows one of the 'Thyrza' poems.]

[Footnote 2: The Hon. John William Ward, afterwards fourth Earl of Dudley. Byron said of him (Lady Blessington's 'Conversations with Lord Byron', p. 197),

"Ward is one of the best-informed men I know, and, in a 'tete-a-tete', is one of the most agreeable companions. He has great originality, and, being 'tres distrait', it adds to the piquancy of his observations, which are sometimes somewhat 'trop naive', though always amusing. This 'naivete' of his is the more piquant from his being really a good-natured man, who unconsciously thinks aloud. Interest Ward on a subject, and I know no one who can talk better. His expressions are concise without being poor, and terse and epigrammatic without being affected," etc.

Of somewhat the same opinion was Lady H. Leveson Gower ('Letters of Harriet, Countess Granville', vol. i. pp. 41, 42):

"The charm of Mr. Ward's conversation is exactly what Mr. Luttrell wants, a sort of 'abandon', and being entertaining because it is his nature and he cannot help it. I only mean Mr. Ward in his happier hour, for what I have said of him is the very reverse of what he is when vanity or humour seize upon him."]

[Footnote 3: Crabb Robinson, in his 'Diary' for January 20, 1812, has the following entry:

"In the evening at Coleridge's lecture. Conclusion of Milton. Not one of the happiest of Coleridge's efforts. Rogers was there, and with him was Lord Byron. He was wrapped up, but I recognized his club foot, and, indeed, his countenance and general appearance."]

[Footnote 4:

"'Benedict':

No; if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear nothing handsome about him."

'Much Ado about Nothing', act v. sc. 4.]

[Footnote 5: Thomas Campbell (1777-1844) lectured at the Royal Institution in 1811 on poetry. The lectures were afterwards published in the 'New Monthly Magazine', of which he was editor (1820-30).

Campbell also apparently read his lectures aloud at private houses. Miss Berry ('Journal', vol. ii. p. 502) mentions a dinner-party on June 26, 1812, at the Princess of Wales's, where she heard him read his "first discourse," delivered at the Institution. Again (ibid., vol. iii. p. 6), she dined with Madame de Stael, March 9, 1814:

"Nobody but Campbell the poet, Rocca, and her own daughter. After dinner, Campbell read to us a discourse of his upon English poetry, and upon some of the great poets. There are always signs of a poet and critic of genius in all he does, often encumbered by too ornate a style."

Campbell's best work was done between 1798 and 1810. Within that period were published 'The Pleasures of Hope' (1799), 'Gertrude of Wyoming' (1809), and such other shorter poems as "Hohenlinden," "Ye Mariners of England," "The Battle of the Baltic," and "O'Connor's Child." His "Ritter Bann," a reminiscence of his sojourn abroad (1800-1), was not published till later; both it and "The Last Man" were published in the 'New Monthly Magazine', during the period of his editorship. An excellent judge of verse, he collected 'Specimens of the British Poets' (1819), to which he added a valuable essay on poetry and short biographies. His 'Theodoric' (1824), 'Pilgrim of Glencoe' (1842), and Lives of Mrs. Siddons, Petrarch, and Shakespeare added nothing to his reputation.

The judgment of contemporary poets in the main agreed with Coleridge's estimate of Campbell's work.

"There are some of Campbell's lyrics," said Rogers ('Table-Talk', etc., pp. 254, 255), "which will never die. His 'Pleasures of Hope' is no great favourite with me. The 'feeling' throughout his 'Gertrude' is very beautiful." Wordsworth also thought the 'Pleasures of Hope' "strangely over-rated; its fine words and sounding lines please the generality of readers, who never stop to ask themselves the meaning of a passage." Byron, who calls Campbell "a warm-hearted and honest man," thought that his "'Lochiel' and 'Mariners' are spirit-stirring productions; his 'Gertrude of Wyoming' is beautiful; and some of the episodes in his 'Pleasures of Hope' pleased me so much that I know them by heart".

(Lady Blessington's 'Conversations with Lord Byron', p. 353).

George Ticknor, who met Campbell in 1815 ('Life', vol. i. p. 63), says,

"He is a short, small man, and has one of the roundest and most lively faces I have seen amongst this grave people. His manners seemed as open as his countenance, and his conversation as spirited as his poetry. He could have kept me amused till morning."

Shortly afterwards, Ticknor went to see him at Sydenham (ibid., p. 65):

"Campbell had the same good spirits and love of merriment as when I met him before,—the same desire to amuse everybody about him; but still I could see, as I partly saw then, that he labours under the burden of an extraordinary reputation, too easily acquired, and feels too constantly that it is necessary for him to make an exertion to satisfy expectation. The consequence is that, though he is always amusing, he is not always quite natural."

Sir Walter Scott made a similar remark about the numbing effect of Campbell's reputation upon his literary work; his deference to critics ruined his individuality. It was Scott's admiration for "Hohenlinden" which induced Campbell to publish the poem. The two men, travelling in a stage-coach alone, beguiled the way by repeating poetry. At last Scott asked Campbell for something of his own. He replied that there was one thing he had never printed, full of "drums and trumpets and blunderbusses and thunder," and that he did not know if there was any good in it. He then repeated "Hohenlinden." When he had finished, Scott broke out with,

"But, do you know, that's devilish fine! Why, it's the finest thing you ever wrote, and it 'must' be printed!"]

[Footnote 6: See p. 31, note 1 [Footnote 1 of Letter 181].]

[Footnote 7: Douglas James William Kinnaird (1788-1830), fifth son of the seventh Baron Kinnaird, was educated at Eton, Gottingen, and Trinity College, Cambridge. He was an intimate friend of Hobhouse, with whom he travelled on the Continent (1813-14), and was in political sympathy. He represented Bishop's Castle from July, 1819, to March, 1820, but losing his seat at the general election, did not again attempt to enter Parliament. He was famous for his "mob dinners," to which Moore probably refers when he writes to Byron, in an undated letter, of the "Deipnosophist Kinnaird." He was a partner in the bank of Ransom and Morland, a member of the committee for managing Drury Lane Theatre, author of the acting version of 'The Merchant of Bruges, or Beggar's Bush' (acted at Drury Lane, December 14, 1815), and a member of the Radical Rota Club.

Kinnaird was Byron's "trusty and trustworthy trustee and banker, and crown and sheet anchor." It was at his suggestion that Byron wrote the 'Hebrew Melodies' and the 'Monody on the Death of Sheridan'. Talking of Kinnaird to Lady Blessington ('Conversations', p. 215), Byron said,

"My friend Dug is a proof that a good heart cannot compensate for an irritable temper; whenever he is named, people dwell on the last and pass over the first; and yet he really has an excellent heart, and a sound head, of which I, in common with many others of his friends, have had various proofs. He is clever, too, and well informed, and I do think would have made a figure in the world, were it not for his temper, which gives a dictatorial tone to his manner, that is offensive to the 'amour propre' of those with whom he mixes."]

[Footnote 8: The Alfred Club (1808-55), established at 23, Albemarle Street, was the Savile of the day. Beloe, in his 'Sexagenarian' (vol. ii. chaps, xx.-xxv.), describes among the members of the Symposium, as he calls it, Sir James Mackintosh, George Ellis, William Gifford, John Reeves, Sir W. Drummond, and himself. Byron, in his 'Detached Thoughts', says,

"I was a member of the Alfred. It was pleasant; a little too sober and literary, and bored with Sotheby and Sir Francis d'Ivernois; but one met Peel, and Ward, and Valentia, and many other pleasant or known people; and it was, upon the whole, a decent resource in a rainy day, in a dearth of parties, or parliament, or in an empty season."

It was, says Mr. Wheatley ('London Past and Present'), known as the 'Half-read'.

In a manuscript note, now for the first time printed as written, on the above passage from Byron's 'Detached Thoughts', Sir Walter Scott writes,

"The Alfred, like all other clubs, was much haunted with boars, a tusky monster which delights to range where men most do congregate. A boar, or bore, is always remarkable for something respectable, such as wealth, character, high birth, acknowledged talent, or, in short, for something that forbids people to turn him out by the shoulders, or, in other words, to cut him dead. Much of this respectability is supplied by the mere circumstance of belonging to a certain society of clubists, within whose districts the bore obtains free-warren, and may wallow or grunt at pleasure. Old stagers in the club know and avoid the fated corner and arm-chair which he haunts; but he often rushes from his lair on the inexperienced."]



* * * * *



214.—To Thomas Moore.

December 11, 1811.

My Dear Moore,—If you please, we will drop our former monosyllables, and adhere to the appellations sanctioned by our godfathers and godmothers. If you make it a point, I will withdraw your name; at the same time there is no occasion, as I have this day postponed your election 'sine die', till it shall suit your wishes to be amongst us. I do not say this from any awkwardness the erasure of your proposal would occasion to me, but simply such is the state of the case; and, indeed, the longer your name is up, the stronger will become your probability of success, and your voters more numerous. Of course you will decide—your wish shall be my law. If my zeal has already outrun discretion, pardon me, and attribute my officiousness to an excusable motive.

I wish you would go down with me to Newstead. Hodgson will be there, and a young friend, named Harness, the earliest and dearest I ever had from the third form at Harrow to this hour. I can promise you good wine, and, if you like shooting, a manor of 4000 acres, fires, books, your own free will, and my own very indifferent company. 'Balnea, vina, Venus' [1].

Hodgson will plague you, I fear, with verse;—for my own part I will conclude, with Martial, 'nil recitabo tibi' [2]; and surely the last inducement, is not the least. Ponder on my proposition, and believe me, my dear Moore,

Yours ever,

BYRON.



[Footnote 1:

"Balnea, vina, Venus corrumpunt corpora nostra."

The words are thus given in Grueter ('Corpus Inscriptionum' (1603), p. DCCCCXII. 10).]

[Footnote 2: Martial (xi. lii. 16), 'Ad Julium Cerealem':

"Plus ego polliceor: nil recitabo tibi."]



* * * * *



215.—To Francis Hodgson.

8, St. James's Street, Dec. 12, 1811.

Why, Hodgson! I fear you have left off wine and me at the same time,—I have written and written and written, and no answer! My dear Sir Edgar [1], water disagrees with you—drink sack and write. Bland did not come to his appointment, being unwell, but Moore supplied all other vacancies most delectably. I have hopes of his joining us at Newstead. I am sure you would like him more and more as he developes,—at least I do.

How Miller and Bland go on, I don't know. Cawthorne talks of being in treaty for a novel of Madame D'Arblay's, and if he obtains it (at 1500 guineas!!) wishes me to see the MS. This I should read with pleasure,— not that I should ever dare to venture a criticism on her whose writings Dr. Johnson once revised, but for the pleasure of the thing. If my worthy publisher wanted a sound opinion, I should send the MS. to Rogers and Moore, as men most alive to true taste. I have had frequent letters from Wm. Harness, and you are silent; certes, you are not a schoolboy. However, I have the consolation of knowing that you are better employed, viz. reviewing. You don't deserve that I should add another syllable, and I won't.

Yours, etc.

P.S.—I only wait for your answer to fix our meeting.



[Footnote 1: Hodgson published, in 1810, 'Sir Edgar, a Tale'.]



* * * * *



216.—To R. C. Dallas.

[Undated, Dec.? 1811] [1]

DEAR SIR,—I have only this scrubby paper to write on—excuse it. I am certain that I sent some more notes on Spain and Portugal, particularly one on the latter. Pray rummage, and don't mind my politics. I believe I leave town next week. Are you better? I hope so.

Yours ever, B.



[Footnote 1: Dallas's answer is dated December 14, 1811]



* * * * *



217.—To William Harness.

8, St. James's Street, Dec. 15, 1811.

I wrote you an answer to your last, which, on reflection, pleases me as little as it probably has pleased yourself. I will not wait for your rejoinder; but proceed to tell you, that I had just then been greeted with an epistle of * *'s, full of his petty grievances, and this at the moment when (from circumstances it is not necessary to enter upon) I was bearing up against recollections to which his imaginary sufferings are as a scratch to a cancer. These things combined, put me out of humour with him and all mankind. The latter part of my life has been a perpetual struggle against affections which embittered the earliest portion; and though I flatter myself I have in a great measure conquered them, yet there are moments (and this was one) when I am as foolish as formerly. I never said so much before, nor had I said this now, if I did not suspect myself of having been rather savage in my letter, and wish to inform you this much of the cause. You know I am not one of your dolorous gentlemen: so now let us laugh again.

Yesterday I went with Moore to Sydenham to visit Campbell [1]. He was not visible, so we jogged homeward merrily enough. To-morrow I dine with Rogers, and am to hear Coleridge, who is a kind of rage at present. Last night I saw Kemble in Coriolanus [2];—he was glorious, and exerted himself wonderfully. By good luck I got an excellent place in the best part of the house, which was more than overflowing. Clare [3] and Delawarr [4], who were there on the same speculation, were less fortunate. I saw them by accident,—we were not together. I wished for you, to gratify your love of Shakspeare and of fine acting to its fullest extent. Last week I saw an exhibition of a different kind in a Mr. Coates, [5] at the Haymarket, who performed Lothario in a damned and damnable manner.

I told you the fate of B[land] and H[odgson] in my last. So much for these sentimentalists, who console themselves in their stews for the loss—the never to be recovered loss—the despair of the refined attachment of a couple of drabs! You censure my life, Harness,—when I compare myself with these men, my elders and my betters, I really begin to conceive myself a monument of prudence—a walking statue—without feeling or failing; and yet the world in general hath given me a proud pre-eminence over them in profligacy. Yet I like the men, and, God knows, ought not to condemn their aberrations. But I own I feel provoked when they dignify all this by the name of love—romantic attachments for things marketable for a dollar!

Dec. 16th.—I have just received your letter;—I feel your kindness very deeply. The foregoing part of my letter, written yesterday, will, I hope, account for the tone of the former, though it cannot excuse it. I do like to hear from you—more than like. Next to seeing you, I have no greater satisfaction. But you have other duties, and greater pleasures, and I should regret to take a moment from either. H * * was to call to-day, but I have not seen him. The circumstances you mention at the close of your letter is another proof in favour of my opinion of mankind. Such you will always find them—selfish and distrustful. I except none. The cause of this is the state of society. In the world, every one is to stir for himself—it is useless, perhaps selfish, to expect any thing from his neighbour. But I do not think we are born of this disposition; for you find friendship as a schoolboy, and love enough before twenty.

I went to see * *; he keeps me in town, where I don't wish to be at present. He is a good man, but totally without conduct. And now, my dearest William, I must wish you good morrow, and remain ever, Most sincerely and affectionately yours, etc.



[Footnote 1: Campbell lived at Sydenham from 1804 to 1820. Moore (Life, p. 148) adds the following note:

"On this occasion, another of the noble poet's peculiarities was, somewhat startlingly, introduced to my notice. When we were on the point of setting out from his lodgings in St. James's Street, it being then about midday, he said to the servant, who was shutting the door of the 'vis-a-vis', 'Have you put in the pistols?' and was answered in the affirmative. It was difficult,—more especially taking into account the circumstances under which we had just become acquainted,— to keep from smiling at this singular noonday precaution."]

[Footnote 2: On December 14, 1811, at Covent Garden, Kemble acted "Coriolanus" with Mrs. Siddons as "Volumnia." It was Kemble's great part, and in it he made his last appearance on the stage (June 23, 1817).]

[Footnote 3: For Lord Clare, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 116, 'note' 1 [Footnote 1 of Letter 65.]]

[Footnote 4: For Lord Delawarr, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 41, note 1 [Footnote 5 of Letter 13.]]

[Footnote 5: Robert Coates, "the Amateur of Fashion," known as "Romeo" Coates, sometimes as "Diamond" Coates, sometimes as "Cock-a-doodle-doo" Coates (1772-1848), was the only surviving son of a wealthy West Indian planter. He made his first appearance on the stage at Bath (February 9, 1810), as "Romeo." In the play-bill he was announced as "a Gentleman, 1st Appearance on any stage." Genest ('English Stage', vol. viii. p. 207) says,

"Many gentlemen have been weak enough to fancy themselves actors, but no one ever persevered in obtruding himself for so long a time on the notice of the public in spite of laughter, hissing, etc."

On December 9, 1811, he appeared at the Haymarket as "Lothario" in Rowe's 'Fair Penitent'. Mathews, at Covent Garden, imitated his performance, in Bate Dudley's 'At Home', as "Mr. Romeo Rantall," appearing in the

"pink silk vest and cloak, white satin breeches and stockings, Spanish hat, with a rich high plume of ostrich feathers," in which Coates had played "Lothario"

'Memoirs of Charles Mathews', (vol. ii. pp. 238, 239).]



* * * * *



218.—To Robert Rushton. [1]

8, St. James's Street, Jan. 21, 1812.

Though I have no objection to your refusal to carry letters to Mealey's, you will take care that the letters are taken by Spero at the proper time. I have also to observe, that Susan is to be treated with civility, and not insulted by any person over whom I have the smallest controul, or, indeed, by any one whatever, while I have the power to protect her. I am truly sorry to have any subject of complaint against you; I have too good an opinion of you to think I shall have occasion to repeat it, after the care I have taken of you, and my favourable intentions in your behalf. I see no occasion for any communication whatever between you and the women, and wish you to occupy yourself in preparing for the situation in which you will be placed. If a common sense of decency cannot prevent you from conducting yourself towards them with rudeness, I should at least hope that your own interest, and regard for a master who has never treated you with unkindness, will have some weight.

Yours, etc., BYRON.

P.S.—I wish you to attend to your arithmetic, to occupy yourself in surveying, measuring, and making yourself acquainted with every particular relative to the land of Newstead, and you will write to me one letter every week, that I may know how you go on.



[Footnote 1: The two following letters, and a suppressed passage in the letter to Moore of January 29, 1812, refer to a quarrel among his dependents, in which Rushton, the "little page" of Childe Harold (see 'Letters', vol. i. pp. 224, 242), played a part. The story is told at considerable length in a letter to Hodgson, dated January 28, 1812. To the same affair probably belong the following scrap and Byron's note:

"Pray don't forget me, as I shall never cease thinking of you, my Dearest 'and only Friend, (signed) S. H. V.'"

To this Byron has added this note:

"This was written on the 11th of January, 1812; on the 28th I received ample proof that the Girl had forgotten me and herself too. Heigho! B."

The letters show, writes Moore ('Life', p. 152),

"how gravely and coolly the young lord could arbitrate on such an occasion, and with what considerate leaning towards the servant whose fidelity he had proved, in preference to any new liking or fancy by which it might be suspected he was actuated toward the other."

In a MS. book written by Mrs. Heath of Newstead ('nee' Rebekah Beardall), it is stated that the elder Rushton had as his farm-servant Fletcher, afterwards Byron's valet. Byron watched Fletcher and young Robert Rushton ploughing, took a fancy to both, and engaged them as his servants. Rushton accompanied Byron to Geneva, but afterwards entered the service of James Wedderburn Webster (see p. 2, 'note' 1). In 1827 he married a woman of the name of Bagnall, and with her help kept a school at Arnold, near Nottingham. Subsequently he took a farm on the Newstead estate, named Hazelford, and shortly afterwards died, leaving a widow and three children.]



* * * * *



219.—To Robert Rushton.

8, St. James's Street, January 25, 1812.

Your refusal to carry the letter was not a subject of remonstrance: it was not a part of your business; but the language you used to the girl was (as she stated it) highly improper.

You say, that you also have something to complain of; then state it to me immediately: it would be very unfair, and very contrary to my disposition, not to hear both sides of the question.

If any thing has passed between you before or since my last visit to Newstead, do not be afraid to mention it. I am sure you would not deceive me, though she would. Whatever it is, you, shall be forgiven. I have not been without some suspicions on the subject, and am certain that, at your time of life, the blame could not attach to you. You will not consult, any one as to your answer, but write to me immediately. I shall be more ready to hear what you have to advance, as I do not remember ever to have heard a word from you before against, any human being, which convinces me you would not maliciously assert an untruth. There is not any one who can do the least injury to you, while you conduct yourself properly. I shall expect your answer immediately. Yours, etc.,

BYRON.



* * * * *



220.—To Thomas Moore.

January 29, 1812.

My Dear Moore,—I wish very much I could have seen you; I am in a state of ludicrous tribulation.***

Why do you say that I dislike your poesy [1]? I have expressed no such opinion, either in print or elsewhere. In scribbling myself, it was necessary for me to find fault, and I fixed upon the trite charge of immorality, because I could discover no other, and was so perfectly qualified in the innocence of my heart, to "pluck that mote from my neighbour's eye."

I feel very, very much obliged by your approbation; but, at this moment, praise, even your praise, passes by me like "the idle wind." I meant and mean to send you a copy the moment of publication; but now I can think of nothing but damned, deceitful,—delightful woman, as Mr. Liston says in the 'Knight of Snowdon' [2]? Believe me, my dear Moore,

Ever yours, most affectionately, BYRON.



[Footnote: 1. Of Moore's early poems Byron was an admirer. The influence of "Little" and "Anacreon" is strongly marked throughout 'Hours of Idleness'. For the "trite charge of immorality," see 'English Bards, etc.', lines 283-294; and 'Letters', vol. i. p. 113. Byron's opinion of Moore's later poetry was thus stated by him to Lady Blessington ('Conversations', pp. 354, 355):

"Having compared Rogers's poems to a flower-garden, to what shall I compare Moore's?—to the Valley of Diamonds, where all is brilliant and attractive, but where one is so dazzled by the sparkling on every side that one knows not where to fix, each gem beautiful in itself, but overpowering to the eye from their quantity."]

[Footnote 2: 'The Knight of Snowdoun', a musical drama, written by Thomas Morton (1764-1838), and founded on 'The Lady of the Lake', was produced at Covent Garden, Feb. 5, 1811, and published the same year. John Liston (1776-1846), the most famous comedian of the century, played the part of "Macloon," his wife that of "Isabel." In act iii. sc. 3 Macloon says,

"Oh, woman! woman! deceitful, damnable, (changing into a half-smile) delightful woman! do all one can, there's nothing else worth thinking of."]



* * * * *



221.—To Francis Hodgson.

8, St. James's Street, Feb. 1, 1812.

MY DEAR HODGSON,-I am rather unwell with a vile cold, caught in the House of Lords last night. Lord Sligo and myself, being tired, paired off, being of opposite sides, so that nothing was gained or lost by our votes. I did not speak: but I might as well, for nothing could have been inferior to the Duke of Devonshire, Marquis of Downshire, and the Earl of Fitzwilliam. The Catholic Question comes on this month, and perhaps I may then commence. I must "screw my courage to the sticking-place," and we'll not fail.

Yours ever, B.



* * * * *



222.—To Samuel Rogers.

February 4, 1812.

MY DEAR SIR,—With my best acknowledgments to Lord Holland [1], I have to offer my perfect concurrence in the propriety of the question previously to be put to ministers. If their answer is in the negative, I shall, with his Lordship's approbation, give notice of a motion for a Committee of Inquiry. I would also gladly avail myself of his most able advice, and any information or documents with which he might be pleased to intrust me, to bear me out in the statement of facts it may be necessary to submit to the House.

From all that fell under my own observation during my Christmas visit to Newstead, I feel convinced that, if conciliatory measures are not very soon adopted, the most unhappy consequences may be apprehended. [2]

Nightly outrage and daily depredation are already at their height; and not only the masters of frames, who are obnoxious on account of their occupation, but persons in no degree connected with the malecontents or their oppressors, are liable to insult and pillage.

I am very much obliged to you for the trouble you have taken on my account, and beg you to believe me,

Ever your obliged and sincere, etc.



[Footnote 1: For Lord Holland, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 184, 'note' 1 [Footnote 3 of Letter 94]. He was Recorder of Nottingham; hence his special interest in the proposed legislation against frame-breaking.]

[Footnote 2: Owing to the state of trade, numbers of stocking-weavers had lost work. The discontent thus produced was increased by the introduction of a wide frame for the manufacture of gaiters and stockings, which, it was supposed, would further diminish the demand for manual labour. In November, 1811, organized bands of men began to break into houses and destroy machinery. For several days no serious effort was made to check the riots, which extended to a considerable distance round Nottingham. But on November 14 the soldiers were called out. Between that date and December 9, 900 cavalry and 1000 infantry were sent to Nottingham; and, on January 8, 1812, these forces were increased by two additional regiments. The rioters assumed the name of Luddites, and their leader was known as General Lud. The name is said to have originated in 1779, in a Leicestershire village, where a half-witted lad, named Ned Lud, broke a stocking-frame in a fit of passion; hence the common saying, when machinery was broken, that "Ned Lud" did it. A Bill was introduced in the House of Commons (February 14) increasing the severity of punishments for frame-breaking. On the second reading (February 17) Sir Samuel Romilly strongly opposed the measure, which passed its third reading (February 20) without a division. The Bill, as introduced into the Upper House by Lord Liverpool,

(1) rendered the offence of frame-breaking punishable by death; and (2) compelled persons in whose houses the frames were broken to give information to the magistrates.

On the second reading of the Bill (February 27, 1812), Byron spoke against it in his first speech in the House of Lords (see Appendix II. (i)). The Bill passed its third reading on March 5, and became law as 52 Geo. III. c. 16. Byron did not confine his opposition to a speech in the House of Lords. He also addressed "An Ode to the Framers of the Frame Bill," which appeared in the 'Morning Chronicle' on Monday, March 2, 1812. The following letter to Perry, the editor, is published by permission of Messrs. Ellis and Elvey, in whose possession is the original:

"Sir,—I take the liberty of sending an alteration of the two last lines of Stanza 2'd which I wish to run as follows,

"'Gibbets on Sherwood will heighten the Scenery Shewing how Commerce, how Liberty thrives!'

"I wish you could insert it tomorrow for a particular reason; but I feel much obliged by your inserting it at all. Of course, do not put my name to the thing. Believe me, Your obliged and very obed't Serv't, BYRON.

"8, St. James Street, Sunday, March 1st, 1812."]



* * * * *



223.—To Master John Cowell. [1]

8, St. James's Street, February 12, 1812.

MY DEAR JOHN,—You have probably long ago forgotten the writer of these lines, who would, perhaps, be unable to recognize yourself, from the difference which must naturally have taken place in your stature and appearance since he saw you last. I have been rambling through Portugal, Spain, Greece, etc., etc., for some years, and have found so many changes on my return, that it would be very unfair not to expect that you should have had your share of alteration and improvement with the rest. I write to request a favour of you: a little boy of eleven years, the son of Mr. **, my particular friend, is about to become an Etonian, and I should esteem any act of protection or kindness to him as an obligation to myself: let me beg of you then to take some little notice of him at first, till he is able to shift for himself.

I was happy to hear a very favourable account of you from a schoolfellow a few weeks ago, and should be glad to learn that your family are as well as I wish them to be. I presume you are in the upper school;—as an Etonian, you will look down upon a Harrow man; but I never, even in my boyish days, disputed your superiority, which I once experienced in a cricket match, where I had the honour of making one of eleven, who were beaten to their hearts' content by your college in one innings. [2]

Believe me to be, with great truth, etc., etc.,

B.



[Footnote 1:

"Breakfasted with Mr. Cowell," writes Moore, in his Diary, June 11, 1828, "having made his acquaintance for the purpose of gaining information about Lord Byron. Knew Byron for the first time when he himself was a little boy, from being in the habit of playing with B.'s dogs. Byron wrote to him to school to bid him mind his prosody. Gave me two or three of his letters to him. Saw a good deal of B. at Hastings; mentioned the anecdote about the ink-bottle striking one of the lead Muses. These Muses had been brought from Holland; and there were, I think, only eight of them arrived safe. Fletcher had brought B. a large jar of ink, and, not thinking it was full, B. had thrust his pen down to the very bottom; his anger at finding it come out all besmeared with ink made him chuck the jar out of the window, when it knocked down one of the Muses in the garden, and deluged her with ink. In 1813, when B. was at Salt Hill, he had Cowell over from Eton, and 'pouched' him no less than ten pounds. Cowell has ever since kept one of the notes. Told me a curious anecdote of Byron's mentioning to him, as if it had made a great impression on him, their seeing Shelley (as they thought) walking into a little wood at Lerici, when it was discovered afterwards that Shelley was at that time in quite another direction. 'This,' said Byron, in a sort of awe-struck voice, 'was about ten days before his death.' Cowell's imitation of his look and manner very striking. Thinks that in Byron's speech to Fletcher, when he was dying, threatening to appear to him, there was a touch of that humour and fun which he was accustomed to mix up with everything".

('Memoirs, Journals, etc'., vol. v. pp. 302, 303).]

[Footnote 2: See 'Letters', vol. i. p. 70, and 'note' 1 [Footnote 2 of Letter 30.]]



* * * * *



224.—To Francis Hodgson.

8, St. James's Street, February 16, 1812.

Dear Hodgson,—I send you a proof. Last week I was very ill and confined to bed with stone in the kidney, but I am now quite recovered. The women are gone to their relatives, after many attempts to explain what was already too clear. If the stone had got into my heart instead of my kidneys, it would have been all the better. However, I have quite recovered that also, and only wonder at my folly in excepting my own strumpets from the general corruption,—albeit a two months' weakness is better than ten years. I have one request to make, which is, never mention a woman again in any letter to me, or even allude to the existence of the sex. I won't even read a word of the feminine gender;—it must all be 'propria quae maribus'.

In the spring of 1813 I shall leave England for ever. Every thing in my affairs tends to this, and my inclinations and health do not discourage it. Neither my habits nor constitution are improved by your customs or your climate. I shall find employment in making myself a good Oriental scholar. I shall retain a mansion in one of the fairest islands, and retrace, at intervals, the most interesting portions of the East. In the mean time, I am adjusting my concerns, which will (when arranged) leave me with wealth sufficient even for home, but enough for a principality in Turkey. At present they are involved, but I hope, by taking some necessary but unpleasant steps, to clear every thing. Hobhouse is expected daily in London: we shall be very glad to see him; and, perhaps, you will come up and "drink deep ere he depart," if not, "Mahomet must go to the mountain;" [1]—but Cambridge will bring sad recollections to him, and worse to me, though for very different reasons. I believe the only human being, that ever loved me in truth and entirely, was of, or belonging to, Cambridge, and, in that, no change can now take place. There is one consolation in death—where he sets his seal, the impression can neither be melted nor broken, but endureth for ever.

Yours always,

B.

P.S.—I almost rejoice when one I love dies young, for I could never bear to see them old or altered.



[Footnote 1: See Bacon's 'Essays' ("Of Boldness"):

"Mahomet made the people believe that he would call a hill to him, and from the top of it offer up his prayers for the observers of his law. The people assembled; Mahomet called the hill to come to him, again and again; and when the hill stood still, he was never a whit abashed, but said, 'If the hill will not come to Mahomet, Mahomet will go to the hill.'"]



* * * * *



225.—To Francis Hodgson.

London, February 21, 1812.

My Dear Hodgson,—There is a book entituled Galt, his Travels in ye Archipelago, [1] daintily printed by Cadell and Davies, ye which I could desiderate might be criticised by you, inasmuch as ye author is a well-respected esquire of mine acquaintance, but I fear will meet with little mercy as a writer, unless a friend passeth judgment. Truth to say, ye boke is ye boke of a cock-brained man, and is full of devises crude and conceitede, but peradventure for my sake this grace may be vouchsafed unto him. Review him myself I can not, will not, and if you are likewize hard of heart, woe unto ye boke! ye which is a comely quarto.

Now then! I have no objection to review, if it pleases Griffiths [2] to send books, or rather you, for you know the sort of things I like to [play] with. You will find what I say very serious as to my intentions. I have every reason to induce me to return to Ionia.

Believe me, yours always,

B.



[Footnote 1: John Galt (1779-1839) published in 1812 his 'Voyages and Travels in the Years 1809, 1810, and 1811'. For his meeting with Byron at Gibraltar in 1809, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 243, 'note' 1 [Footnote 1 of Letter 130]; see also 'ibid.', p. 304, 'note' 2 [Footnote 2 of Letter 131]. Galt's novels were, in later years, liked by Byron, who

"praised the 'Annals of the Parish' very highly, as also 'The Entail' ... some scenes of which, he said, had affected him very much. 'The characters in Mr. Galt's novels have an identity,' added Byron, 'that reminds me of Wilkie's pictures'"

(Lady Blessington's 'Conversations with Lord Byron', p. 74).

"When I knew Galt, years ago," said Byron to Lady Blessington, "I was not in a frame of mind to form an impartial opinion of him: his mildness and equanimity struck me even then; but, to say the truth, his manner had not deference enough for my then aristocratical taste, and finding I could not awe him into a respect sufficiently profound for my sublime self, either as a peer or an author, I felt a little grudge towards him that has now completely worn off," etc., etc.

('ibid.', p. 249).]

[Footnote 2: George Edward Griffiths (circ. 1769-1829), son of Ralph Griffiths, who founded, owned, and published the 'Monthly Review', and boarded and lodged Oliver Goldsmith as a contributor, succeeded to the management of the 'Review' on the death of his father in 1803. He edited it till 1825, when he sold the property. He lived at Linden House, Turnham Green. Francis Hodgson wrote for the 'Monthly Review', and, March 2, 1814, he writes to Byron,

"I have already read a review of Safie in the 'British Critic', and will undertake it in the 'Monthly' if Griffiths, with whom I am in very bad odour from my late shameful idleness, will allow me. Oh that you would write a good smart critique of something to get both 'yourself and me' in high repute at Turnham Green!!!!"

In Byron's 'Detached Thoughts' occurs the following passage:

"I have been a reviewer. In the 'Monthly Review' I wrote some articles which were inserted. This was in the latter part of 1811. In 1807, in a Magazine called 'Monthly Literary Recreations', I reviewed Wordsworth's trash of that time.

"Excepting these, I cannot accuse myself of anonymous Criticism (that I recollect), though I have been 'offered' more than one review in our principal Journals."

In the Bodleian Library is a copy of the 'Monthly Review', in which Griffiths has entered the initials of the authors of each article. Two articles from the 'Review', attributed to Byron on this authority, are given in Appendix I.]



* * * * *



226.—To Lord Holland.

8, St. James's Street, February 25, 1812.

MY LORD,—With my best thanks, I have the honour to return the Notts, letter to your Lordship. I have read it with attention, but do not think I shall venture to avail myself of its contents, as my view of the question differs in some measure from Mr. Coldham's. I hope I do not wrong him, but his objections to the bill appear to me to be founded on certain apprehensions that he and his coadjutors might be mistaken for the "original advisers" (to quote him) of the measure. For my own part, I consider the manufacturers as a much injured body of men, sacrificed to the views of certain individuals who have enriched themselves by those practices which have deprived the frame-workers of employment. For instance;—by the adoption of a certain kind of frame, one man performs the work of seven—six are thus thrown out of business. But it is to be observed that the work thus done is far inferior in quality, hardly marketable at home, and hurried over with a view to exportation. Surely, my Lord, however we may rejoice in any improvement in the arts which may be beneficial to mankind, we must not allow mankind to be sacrificed to improvements in mechanism. The maintenance and well-doing of the industrious poor is an object of greater consequence to the community than the enrichment of a few monopolists by any improvement in the implements of trade, which deprives the workman of his bread, and renders the labourer "unworthy of his hire."

My own motive for opposing the bill is founded on its palpable injustice, and its certain inefficacy. I have seen the state of these miserable men, and it is a disgrace to a civilized country. Their excesses may be condemned, but cannot be subject of wonder. The effect of the present bill would be to drive them into actual rebellion. The few words I shall venture to offer on Thursday will be founded upon these opinions formed from my own observations on the spot. By previous inquiry, I am convinced these men would have been restored to employment, and the county to tranquillity. It is, perhaps, not yet too late, and is surely worth the trial. It can never be too late to employ force in such circumstances. I believe your Lordship does not coincide with me entirely on this subject, and most cheerfully and sincerely shall I submit to your superior judgment and experience, and take some other line of argument against the bill, or be silent altogether, should you deem it more advisable. Condemning, as every one must condemn, the conduct of these wretches, I believe in the existence of grievances which call rather for pity than punishment. I have the honour to be, with great respect, my Lord, your Lordship's

Most obedient and obliged servant,

BYRON.

P.S.—I am a little apprehensive that your Lordship will think me too lenient towards these men, and half a frame-breaker myself.



* * * * *



227.—To Francis Hodgson.

8, St. James's Street, March 5, 1812.

MY DEAR HODGSON,—We are not answerable for reports of speeches in the papers; they are always given incorrectly, and on this occasion more so than usual, from the debate in the Commons on the same night. The Morning Post should have said eighteen years. However, you will find the speech, as spoken, in the Parliamentary Register, when it comes out. Lords Holland and Grenville, particularly the latter, paid me some high compliments in the course of their speeches, as you may have seen in the papers, and Lords Eldon and Harrowby answered me. I have had many marvellous eulogies [1] repeated to me since, in person and by proxy, from divers persons ministerial—yea, ministerial!—as well as oppositionists; of them I shall only mention Sir F. Burdett. He says it is the best speech by a lord since the "Lord knows when," probably from a fellow-feeling in the sentiments. Lord H. tells me I shall beat them all if I persevere; and Lord G. remarked that the construction of some of my periods are very like Burke's!! And so much for vanity. I spoke very violent sentences with a sort of modest impudence, abused every thing and every body, and put the Lord Chancellor very much out of humour: and if I may believe what I hear, have not lost any character by the experiment. As to my delivery, loud and fluent enough, perhaps a little theatrical. I could not recognize myself or any one else in the newspapers [2].

I hire myself unto Griffiths, and my poesy [3] comes out on Saturday. Hobhouse is here; I shall tell him to write. My stone is gone for the present, but I fear is part of my habit. We all talk of a visit to Cambridge.

Yours ever,

B.



[Footnote 1: For Byron's speech, February 27, 1812, see Appendix II. (i).] Grenville said,

"There never was a maxim of greater wisdom than that uttered by the noble lord [Byron] who had so ably addressed their lordships that night for the first time"

('Hansard', vol. xxi. p. 977). Moore quotes a passage from Byron's 'Detached Thoughts':

"Sheridan's liking for me (whether he was not mystifying me I do not know, but Lady Caroline Lamb and others told me that he said the same both before and after he knew me) was founded upon 'English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers'. He told me that he did not care about poetry (or about mine—at least, any but 'that' poem of mine), but he was sure, from 'that' and other symptoms, I should make an orator, if I would but take to speaking, and grow a parliament man. He never ceased harping upon this to me to the last; and I remember my old tutor, Dr. Drury, had the same notion when I was a 'boy'; but it never was my turn of inclination to try. I spoke once or twice, as all young peers do, as a kind of introduction into public life; but dissipation, shyness, haughty and reserved opinions, together with the short time I lived in England after my majority (only about five years in all), prevented me from resuming the experiment. As far as it went, it was not discouraging, particularly my 'first' speech (I spoke three or four times in all); but just after it, my poem of 'Childe Harold' was published, and nobody ever thought about my 'prose' afterwards, nor indeed did I; it became to me a secondary and neglected object, though I sometimes wonder to myself if I should have succeeded."]

[Footnote 2: Byron, writing to John Hanson, February 28, 1812, says:

"Dear Sir,—In the report of my speech (which by the bye is given very incorrectly) in the 'M[orning] Herald', 'Day', and 'B[ritish] Press', they state that I mentioned 'Bristol', a place I never saw in my life and knew nothing of whatever, nor 'mentioned' at all last night. Will you be good enough to send to these 'papers' 'immediately', and have the mistake corrected, or I shall get into a scrape with the Bristol people?

"I am, yours very truly,

"B."]

[Footnote 3: 'Childe Harold', Cantos I., II.]



* * * * *



228.—To Lord Holland.

St. James's Street, March 5, 1812.

MY LORD,—May I request your Lordship to accept a copy of the thing which accompanies this note [1]?

You have already so fully proved the truth of the first line of Pope's couplet [2],

"Forgiveness to the injured doth belong,"

that I long for an opportunity to give the lie to the verse that follows. If I were not perfectly convinced that any thing I may have formerly uttered in the boyish rashness of my misplaced resentment had made as little impression as it deserved to make, I should hardly have the confidence—perhaps your Lordship may give it a stronger and more appropriate appellation—to send you a quarto of the same scribbler. But your Lordship, I am sorry to observe to-day, is troubled with the gout; if my book can produce a laugh against itself or the author, it will be of some service. If it can set you to sleep, the benefit will be yet greater; and as some facetious personage observed half a century ago, that "poetry is a mere drug," [3]

I offer you mine as a humble assistant to the eau medicinale. I trust you will forgive this and all my other buffooneries, and believe me to be, with great respect,

Your Lordship's obliged and sincere servant,

BYRON.



[Footnote 1: 'Childe Harold' was published March 1, 1812. Another copy of 'Childe Harold' was sent to Mrs. Leigh, with the following inscription:

"To Augusta, my dearest sister, and my best friend, who has ever loved me much better than I deserved, this volume is presented by her father's son, and most affectionate brother, B."

The effect which the poem instantly produced is best expressed in Byron's own memorandum:

"I awoke one morning and found myself famous."

He was only just twenty-three years old.

"The subject," says Elizabeth, Duchess of Devonshire ('Two Duchesses', pp. 375, 376), "of conversation, of curiosity, of enthusiasm almost, one might say, of the moment is not Spain or Portugal, Warriors or Patriots, but Lord Byron!" "He returned," she continues, "sorry for the severity of some of his lines (in the 'English Bards'), and with a new poem, 'Childe Harold', which he published. This poem is on every table, and himself courted, visited, flattered, and praised whenever he appears. He has a pale, sickly, but handsome countenance, a bad figure, and, in short, he is really the only topic almost of every conversation—the men jealous of him, the women of each other."

"Lord Byron," writes Lady Harriet Leveson Gower to the Duke of Devonshire, May 10, 1812 ('Letters of Harriet, Countess Granville', vol. i. p. 34), "is still upon a pedestal, and Caroline William doing homage. I have made acquaintance with him. He is agreeable, but I feel no wish for any further intimacy. His countenance is fine when it is in repose; but the moment it is in play, suspicious, malignant, and consequently repulsive. His manner is either remarkably gracious and conciliatory, with a tinge of affectation, or irritable and impetuous, and then, I am afraid, perfectly natural."

Rogers ('Recollections of the Table-Talk of Samuel Rogers', pp. 232, 233) says,

"After Byron had become the 'rage', I was frequently amused at the manoeuvres of certain noble ladies to get acquainted with him by means of me; for instance, I would receive a note from Lady——, requesting the pleasure of my company on a particular evening, with a postscript, 'Pray, could you not contrive to bring Lord Byron with you?' Once, at a great party given by Lady Jersey, Mrs. Sheridan ran up to me and said, 'Do, as a favour, try if you can place Lord Byron beside me at supper!'"]

[Footnote 2:

"Forgiveness to the injured does belong, But they ne'er pardon, who have done the wrong."

Dryden's 'Conquest of Grenada', part ii. act i. sc. 2.]

[Footnote 3: Murphy, in sc. 1 of 'The Way to Keep Him' (1760), uses the word in the same sense;

"A wife's a drug now; mere tar-water, with every virtue under heaven, but nobody takes it."]



* * * * *



CHAPTER VI.

MARCH, 1812—MAY, 1813.

THE IDOL OF SOCIETY—THE DRURY LANE ADDRESS—SECOND SPEECH IN PARLIAMENT.



* * * * *



229.—To Thomas Moore.

With regard to the passage on Mr. Way's loss, no unfair play was hinted at, as may be seen by referring to the book [1]; and it is expressly added that the managers were ignorant of that transaction. As to the prevalence of play at the Argyle, it cannot be denied that there were billiards and dice;—Lord B. has been a witness to the use of both at the Argyle Rooms. These, it is presumed, come under the denomination of play. If play be allowed, the President of the Institution can hardly complain of being termed the "Arbiter of Play,"—or what becomes of his authority?

Lord B. has no personal animosity to Colonel Greville. A public institution, to which he himself was a subscriber, he considered himself to have a right to notice publickly. Of that institution Colonel Greville was the avowed director;—it is too late to enter into the discussion of its merits or demerits.

Lord B. must leave the discussion of the reparation, for the real or supposed injury, to Colonel G.'s friend and Mr. Moore, the friend of Lord B.—begging them to recollect that, while they consider Colonel G.'s honour, Lord B. must also maintain his own. If the business can be settled amicably, Lord B. will do as much as can and ought to be done by a man of honour towards conciliation;—if not, he must satisfy Colonel G. in the manner most conducive to his further wishes.



[Footnote 1: Byron, in 'English Bards, etc.' (lines 638-667), had alluded to Colonel Greville, Manager of the Argyle Institution:

"Or hail at once the patron and the pile Of vice and folly, Greville and Argyle," etc.

In a note he had also referred to "Billy" Way's loss of several thousand pounds in the Rooms. On his return from abroad, Colonel Greville demanded satisfaction through his friend Gould Francis Leckie. Byron referred Leckie to Moore, and sent Moore the above paper for his guidance. The affair was amicably settled.

In his 'Detached Thoughts' occurs the following passage:—

"I have been called in as mediator, or second, at least twenty times, in violent quarrels, and have always contrived to settle the business without compromising the honour of the parties, or leading them to mortal consequences, and this, too, sometimes in very difficult and delicate circumstances, and having to deal with very hot and haughty spirits,—Irishmen, gamesters, guardsmen, captains, and cornets of horse, and the like. This was, of course, in my youth, when I lived in hot-headed company. I have had to carry challenges from gentlemen to noblemen, from captains to captains, from lawyers to counsellors, and once from a clergyman to an officer in the Life Guards; but I found the latter by far the most difficult:

"'to compose The bloody duel without blows,'

"the business being about a woman: I must add, too, that I never saw a woman behave so ill, like a cold-blooded, heartless b——as she was,—but very handsome for all that. A certain Susan C——was she called. I never saw her but once; and that was to induce her but to say two words (which in no degree compromised herself), and which would have had the effect of saving a priest or a lieutenant of cavalry. She would not say them, and neither Nepean nor myself [the son of Sir Evan Nepean, and a friend to one of the parties] could prevail upon her to say them, though both of us used to deal in some sort with womankind. At last I managed to quiet the combatants without her talisman, and, I believe, to her great disappointment: she was the damnedest b——that I ever saw, and I have seen a great many. Though my clergyman was sure to lose either his life or his living, he was as warlike as the Bishop of Beauvais, and would hardly be pacified; but then he was in love, and that is a martial passion."

One challenge from a gentleman to a nobleman was that of Scrope Davies to Lord Foley, in 1813; but Byron succeeded in arranging the matter. That from a lawyer to a counsellor was in 1815, from John Hanson to Serjeant Best, afterwards Lord Wynford, and arose out of the marriage of Miss Hanson to Lord Portsmouth; this quarrel was also settled by Byron. The case of the clergyman was that of the Rev. Robert Bland, whose mistress, during his absence in Holland, left him for an officer in the Guards (see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 197, end of 'note' [Footnote 1 of Letter 102] on Francis Hodgson). Byron was himself a fair shot with a pistol.

"When in London," writes Gronow ('Reminiscences', vol. i. p. 152), "Byron used to go to Manton's shooting-gallery, in Davies Street, to try his hand, as he said, at a wafer. Wedderburn Webster was present when the poet, intensely delighted with his own skill, boasted to Joe Manton that he considered himself the best shot in London. 'No, my lord,' replied Manton, 'not the best; but your shooting to-day was respectable.' Whereupon Byron waxed wroth, and left the shop in a violent passion."]



* * * * *



230.—To William Bankes.

My dear Bankes,—My eagerness to come to an explanation has, I trust, convinced you that whatever my unlucky manner might inadvertently be, the change was as unintentional as (if intended) it would have been ungrateful. I really was not aware that, while we were together, I had evinced such caprices; that we were not so much in each other's company as I could have wished, I well know, but I think so acute an observer as yourself must have perceived enough to explain this, without supposing any slight to one in whose society I have pride and pleasure. Recollect that I do not allude here to "extended" or "extending" acquaintances, but to circumstances you will understand, I think, on a little reflection.

And now, my dear Bankes, do not distress me by supposing that I can think of you, or you of me, otherwise than I trust we have long thought. You told me not long ago that my temper was improved, and I should be sorry that opinion should be revoked. Believe me, your friendship is of more account to me than all those absurd vanities in which, I fear, you conceive me to take too much interest. I have never disputed your superiority, or doubted (seriously) your good will, and no one shall ever "make mischief between us" without the sincere regret on the part of your ever affectionate, etc.

P.S.—I shall see you, I hope, at Lady Jersey's [1].

Hobhouse goes also.



[Footnote 1: George Child-Villiers (1773-1859), "in manners and appearance 'le plus grand seigneur' of his time," succeeded his father, "the Prince of Maccaronies," in 1805, as fifth Earl of Jersey. He was twice Lord Chamberlain to William IV., and twice Master of the Horse to Queen Victoria. He married, in 1804, Lady Sarah Sophia Fane, eldest daughter of John, tenth Earl of Westmorland, and heiress, through her mother, 'nee' Sarah Anne Child, of the fortune of her grandfather, Robert Child, the banker.

Lady Jersey for many years reigned supreme, by her beauty and wit, in London society,

"the veriest tyrant," said Byron, "that ever governed Fashion's fools, and compelled them to shake their caps and bells as she willed it."

At Almack's, where, according to Gronow ('Reminiscences', vol. i. p. 32), she introduced the quadrille after Waterloo, she was a despot. 'Almack's', the very clever and personal picture of fashionable life, published in 1826, is dedicated

"To that most Distinguished and Despotic Conclave, composed of their High Mightinesses the Ladies Patronesses of the Balls at Almack's, the Rulers of Fashion, the Arbiters of Taste, the Leaders of 'Ton', and the Makers of Manners, whose Sovereign sway over 'the world' of London has long been established on the firmest basis, whose Decrees are Laws, and from whose judgment there is no appeal."

Over this "Willis Coalition Cabinet" Lady Jersey, as "Lady Hauton," is described as reigning supreme.

"She knew more than any person I ever met with, and both everything and everybody; she could quiz and she could flatter."

"Treat people like fools," she is supposed to say, "and they will worship you; stoop to make up to them, and they will directly tread you underfoot."

Ticknor ('Life', vol. i. p. 269) speaks of her as a "beautiful creature, with a great deal of talent, taste, and elegant knowledge." He was at Almack's, in 1819, and standing close to Lady Jersey, then at the height of beauty and brilliant talent, a leader in society, and with decided political opinions, when she refused the Duke of Wellington admittance. The lady patronesses had made a rule to admit no one after eleven o'clock. When the rule first came into operation, Ticknor heard one of the attendants announce that the Duke of Wellington was at the door.

"What o'clock is it?" Lady Jersey asked. "Seven minutes after eleven, your ladyship." She paused a moment, and then said, with emphasis and distinctness, "Give my compliments,—give Lady Jersey's compliments to the Duke of Wellington, and say that she is very glad that the first enforcement of the rule of exclusion is such that hereafter no one can complain of its application. He cannot be admitted"

('ibid'., vol. i. pp. 296, 297).

Politically, Lady Jersey was a power. Such an entry as the following sounds strange to modern readers: Dining at Lord Holland's, in 1835, in company with Lord Melbourne, Lord Grey, and other prominent politicians, Ticknor notes that

"public business was much talked about—the corporation bill, the motion for admitting Dissenters to the universities, etc., etc.; and as to the last, when the question arose whether it would be debated on Tuesday night, it was admitted to be doubtful whether Lady Jersey would not succeed in getting it postponed, as she has a grand dinner that evening"

('Life', vol. i. pp. 409, 410).

Lady Jersey, whose mother-in-law, 'nee' Frances Twyden, had been a bitter opponent of the Princess of Wales, provoked the wrath of the Regent by espousing the cause of his wife. The Prince was determined to break off this friendship with his wife's champion, and sent a letter to her by the hand of Colonel Willis, announcing his determination. Some time later they met at a great party given by Henry Hope in Cavendish Square. Lady Jersey was walking with Rogers in the gallery, when they met the Prince, who

"stopped for a moment, and then, drawing himself up, marched past her with a look of the utmost disdain. Lady Jersey returned the look to the full; and, as soon as the Prince was gone, said to me, with a smile, 'Didn't I do it well?'"

('Table Talk of Samuel Rogers', pp. 267, 268).

From this same change of feeling arose the incident which Byron celebrated in his Condolatory Address "On the Occasion of the Prince Regent Returning her Picture to Mrs. Mee." The lines were enclosed with a letter which is printed at the date May 29, 1814. "Pegasus is, perhaps, the only horse of whose paces," said Byron ('Conversations with Lady Blessington', p. 51), "Lord [Jersey] could not be a judge." Of Lady Jersey he says ('ibid'., p. 50),

"Of all that coterie, Madame [de Stael], after Lady [Jersey], was the best; at least I thought so, for these two ladies were the only ones who ventured to protect me when all London was crying out against me on the separation, and they behaved courageously and kindly ... Poor dear Lady [Jersey]! Does she still retain her beautiful cream-coloured complexion and raven hair? I used to long to tell her that she spoiled her looks by her excessive animation; for eyes, tongue, head, and arms were all in movement at once, and were only relieved from their active service by want of respiration," etc., etc.]



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231.—To Thomas Moore.

March 25, 1812.

Know all men by these presents, that you, Thomas Moore, stand indicted—no—invited, by special and particular solicitation, to Lady Caroline Lamb's [1] tomorrow evening, at half-past nine o'clock, where you will meet with a civil reception and decent entertainment. Pray, come—I was so examined after you this morning, that I entreat you to answer in person.

Believe me, etc.



[Footnote 1: Lady Caroline Lamb (1785-1828), the "Calantha Avondale" of her own 'Glenarvon', was the daughter of Frederick Ponsonby, third Earl of Bessborough, by his wife, Lady Henrietta Frances Spencer, sister of Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire. She was brought up, partly in Italy under the care of a servant, partly by her grandmother, the wife of John, first Earl Spencer. She married, June 3, 1805, William Lamb, afterwards Lord Melbourne.

Her manuscript commonplace-book is in the possession of the Hon. G. Ponsonby. A few pages are taken up with a printed copy of the 'Essay on the Progressive Improvement of Mankind', with which her husband won the declamation prize at Trinity, Cambridge, in 1798. The rest of the volume consists of some 200 pages filled with prose, and verse, and sketches. It begins with a list of her nicknames—"Sprite," "Young Savage," "Ariel," "Squirrel," etc. Then follow the secret language of an imaginary order; her first verses, written at the age of thirteen; scraps of poetry, original and extracted, in French, Italian, and English; a long fragment of a wild romantic story of a girl's seduction by an infidel nobleman. A clever sketch in water-colour of William Lamb and of herself, after their marriage, is followed by verses on the birth of her son, "little "Augustus," August 23, 1807. The last stanza of a poem, which has nothing to commend it except the feelings of the wife and mother which it expresses, runs thus:

"His little eyes like William's shine; How great is then my joy, For, while I call this darling mine, I see 'tis William's boy!"

The most ambitious effort in the volume is a poem, illustrated with pictures in water colours, such as 'L'Amour se cache sous le voile d'Amitie, or l'Innocence le recoit dans ses bras'; a third, in the style of Blake, bears the inscription 'le Desespoir met fin a ses jours'. The poem opens with the following lines:

"Winged with Hope and hushed with Joy, See yon wanton, blue-eyed Boy,— Arch his smile, and keen his dart,— Aim at Laura's youthful heart! How could he his wiles disguise? How deceive such watchful eyes? How so pure a breast inspire, Set so young a Mind on fire? 'Twas because to raise the flame Love bethought of friendship's name. Under this false guise he told her That he lived but to behold her. How could she his fault discover When he often vowed to love her? How could she her heart defend When he took the name of friend?"

Dates are seldom affixed to the compositions, and it is impossible to say whether any are autobiographical. But, taken as a whole, they reveal a clever, romantic, impulsive, imaginative woman, whose pet names describe at once the charm of her character and the fascination of her small, slight figure, "golden hair, large hazel eyes," and low musical voice.

Her marriage with William Lamb, June 3, seems to have been at first kept secret. Lord Minto in August, 1805 ('Life and Letters', vol. iii. p. 361), speaks of her as unmarried, and adds that she is "a lively and rather a pretty girl; they say she is very clever." Augustus Foster, writing to his mother, Lady Elizabeth Foster, July 30, 1805 ('The Two Duchesses', p. 233), says, "I cannot fancy Lady Caroline married. I cannot be glad of it. How changed she must be—the delicate Ariel, the little Fairy Queen become a wife and soon perhaps a mother." Lady Elizabeth replies, September 30, 1805 ('ibid'., p. 242): "You may retract all your sorrow about Caro Ponsonby's marriage, for she is the same wild, delicate, odd, delightful person, unlike everything."

Lady Caroline and William Lamb are described by Lady Elizabeth, three months later, as "flirting all day long 'e felice adesso'." The phrase, perhaps, correctly expresses Lady Caroline's conception of love as an episode; but no breach occurred till 1813. In the previous year, when Byron had suddenly risen to the height of his fame, she had refused to be introduced by Lady Westmorland to the man of whom she made the famous entry in her Diary "mad, bad, and dangerous to know." But they met, a few days later, at Holland House, and Byron called on her in Whitehall, where for the next four months he was a daily visitor. On blue-bordered paper, embossed at the corners with scallop-shells, she wrote to Byron at an early stage in their acquaintance, the letter numbered 1 in Appendix III.

For the sequel to the story of their friendship, see Byron's letter to Lady Caroline, p. 135, 'note' 1, and Appendix III.]



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232.—To Lady Caroline Lamb.

[Undated.]

I never supposed you artful: we are all selfish,—nature did that for us. But even when you attempt deceit occasionally, you cannot maintain it, which is all the better; want of success will curb the tendency. Every word you utter, every line you write, proves you to be either sincere or a fool. Now as I know you are not the one, I must believe you the other.

I never knew a woman with greater or more pleasing talents, general as in a woman they should be, something of everything, and too much of nothing. But these are unfortunately coupled with a total want of common conduct. [1] For instance, the note to your page—do you suppose I delivered it? or did you mean that I should? I did not of course.

Then your heart, my poor Caro (what a little volcano!), that pours lava through your veins; and yet I cannot wish it a bit colder, to make a marble slab of, as you sometimes see (to understand my foolish metaphor) brought in vases, tables, etc., from Vesuvius, when hardened after an eruption. To drop my detestable tropes and figures, you know I have always thought you the cleverest, most agreeable, absurd, amiable, perplexing, dangerous, fascinating little being that lives now, or ought to have lived 2000 years ago. I won't talk to you of beauty; I am no judge. But our beauties cease to be so when near you, and therefore you have either some, or something better. And now, Caro, this nonsense is the first and last compliment (if it be such) I ever paid you. You have often reproached me as wanting in that respect; but others will make up the deficiency.

Come to Lord Grey's; at least do not let me keep you away. All that you so often say, I feel. Can more be said or felt? This same prudence is tiresome enough; but one must maintain it, or what can one do to be saved? Keep to it.



[Footnote 1: The following letter from Lady Caroline to Fletcher, Byron's valet, illustrates the statement in the text:

"FLETCHER,—Will you come and see me here some evening at 9, and no one will know of it. You may say you bring a letter, and wait the answer. I will send for you in. But I will let you know first, for I wish to speak with you. I also want you to take the little Foreign Page I shall send in to see Lord Byron. Do not tell him before-hand, but, when he comes with flowers, shew him in. I shall not come myself, unless just before he goes away; so do not think it is me. Besides, you will see this is quite a child, only I wish him to see my Lord if you can contrive it, which, if you tell me what hour is most convenient, will be very easy. I go out of Town to-morrow for a day or two, and I am now quite well—at least much better."]



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233.—To William Bankes.

April 20, 1812.

MY DEAR BANKES,—I feel rather hurt (not savagely) at the speech you made to me last night, and my hope is that it was only one of your profane jests. I should be very sorry that any part of my behaviour should give you cause to suppose that I think higher of myself, or otherwise of you than I have always done. I can assure you that I am as much the humblest of your servants as at Trin. Coll.; and if I have not been at home when you favoured me with a call, the loss was more mine than yours. In the bustle of buzzing parties, there is, there can be, no rational conversation; but when I can enjoy it, there is nobody's I can prefer to your own.

Believe me, ever faithfully and most affectionately yours,

BYRON.



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234.—To Thomas Moore.

Friday noon.

I should have answered your note yesterday, but I hoped to have seen you this morning. I must consult with you about the day we dine with Sir Francis [1]. I suppose we shall meet at Lady Spencer's [2] to-night. I did not know that you were at Miss Berry's [3] the other night, or I should have certainly gone there.

As usual, I am in all sorts of scrapes, though none, at present, of a martial description.

Believe me, etc.



[Footnote 1: Probably with Sir Francis Burdett, at 77, Piccadilly.]

[Footnote 2: Grandmother of Lady Caroline Lamb.]

[Footnote 3: Mary Berry (1763-1852), the friend and editor of Horace Walpole, whom she might have married, lived at Little Strawberry Hill, and in North Audley Street, London. In her Journal Miss Berry mentions two occasions on which she met Byron. The first was Thursday, April 2, 1812, at Lord Glenbervie's.

"I had a quarter of an hour's conversation, which, I own, gave me a great desire to know him better, and he seemed willing that I should do so."

The second occasion was May 7, 1812.

"At the end of the evening I had half an hour's conversation with Lord Byron, principally on the subject of the Scotch Review, with which he is very much pleased. He is a singular man, and pleasant to me but I very much fear that his head begins to be turned by all the adoration of the world, especially the women"

('Journal and Correspondence of Miss Berry', vol. ii. pp. 496, 497).]



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235.—To Lady Caroline Lamb.

May 1st, 1812.

MY DEAR LADY CAROLINE,-I have read over the few poems of Miss Milbank [1] with attention. They display fancy, feeling, and a little practice would very soon induce facility of expression. Though I have an abhorrence of Blank Verse, I like the lines on Dermody [2] so much that I wish they were in rhyme. The lines in the Cave at Seaham have a turn of thought which I cannot sufficiently commend, and here I am at least candid as my own opinions differ upon such subjects. The first stanza is very good indeed, and the others, with a few slight alterations, might be rendered equally excellent. The last are smooth and pretty. But these are all, has she no others? She certainly is a very extraordinary girl; who would imagine so much strength and variety of thought under that placid Countenance? It is not necessary for Miss M. to be an authoress, indeed I do not think publishing at all creditable either to men or women, and (though you will not believe me) very often feel ashamed of it myself; but I have no hesitation in saying that she has talents which, were it proper or requisite to indulge, would have led to distinction.

A friend of mine (fifty years old, and an author, but not Rogers) has just been here. As there is no name to the MSS. I shewed them to him, and he was much more enthusiastic in his praises than I have been. He thinks them beautiful; I shall content myself with observing that they are better, much better, than anything of Miss M.'s protegee ('sic') Blacket. You will say as much of this to Miss M. as you think proper. I say all this very sincerely. I have no desire to be better acquainted with Miss Milbank; she is too good for a fallen spirit to know, and I should like her more if she were less perfect. Believe me, yours ever most truly,

B.



[Footnote 1: This letter refers to the future Lady Byron, the "Miss Monmouth" of 'Glenarvon' (see vol. iii. p. 100), who was first brought to Byron's notice by Lady Caroline Lamb. Anna Isabella (often shortened into Annabella) Milbanke (born May 17, 1792; died May 16, 1860) was the only child of Sir Ralph Milbanke, Bart., and the Hon. Judith Noel, daughter of Lord Wentworth. Her childhood was passed at Halnaby, or at Seaham, where her father had

"a pretty villa on the cliff." In 1808 Seaham "was the most primitive hamlet ever met with—a dozen or so of cottages, no trade, no manufacture, no business doing that we could see; the owners were mostly servants of Sir Ralph Milbanke's"

('Memoirs of a Highland Lady', p. 71). It was here that Blacket the poet (see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 314, 'note' 2; p. 6, 'note' 5, of the present volume; and 'English Bards, etc'., line 770, and Byron's 'note') died, befriended by Miss Milbanke.

Byron (Medwin's 'Conversations with Lord Byron', pp. 44, 45) thus describes the personal appearance of his future wife:

"There was something piquant and what we term pretty in Miss Milbanke. Her features were small and feminine, though not regular. She had the fairest skin imaginable. Her figure was perfect for her height; and there was a simplicity, a retired modesty, about her, which was very characteristic, and formed a happy contrast to the cold, artificial formality and studied stiffness which is called fashion."

The roundness of her face suggested to Byron the pet name of "Pippin."

High-principled, guided by a strong sense of duty, imbued with deep religious feeling, Miss Milbanke lived to impress F. W. Robertson as "the noblest woman he ever knew" ('Diary of Crabb Robinson' (1852), vol. iii. p. 405). She was also a clever, well-read girl, fond of mathematics, a student of theology and of Greek, a writer of meritorious verse, which, however, Byron only allowed to be "good by accident" (Medwin, p. 60). Among her mother's friends were Mrs. Siddons, Joanna Baillie, and Maria Edgeworth. The latter, writing, May, 1813, to Miss Ruxton, says, "Lady Milbanke is very agreeable, and has a charming, well-informed daughter." With all her personal charms, virtues, and mental gifts, she shows, in many of her letters, a precision, formality, and self-complacency, which suggest the female pedant. Byron says of her that "she was governed by what she called fixed rules and principles, squared mathematically" (Medwin, p. 60); at one time he used to speak of her as his "Princess of Parallelograms," and at a later period he called her his "Mathematical Medea."

Before Miss Milbanke met Byron, she had a lover in Augustus Foster, son of Lady Elizabeth Foster, afterwards Duchess of Devonshire. The duchess, writing to her son, February 29, 1812, says that Mrs. George Lamb (?) would sound Miss Milbanke as to her feelings:

"Caro means to see 'la bella' Annabelle before she writes to you ... I shall almost hate her if she is blind to the merits of one who would make her so happy"

('The Two Duchesses', p. 358). Apparently Mr. Foster's love was not returned.

"She persists in saying," writes the duchess, May 4, 1812 ('ibid'., p. 362), "that she never suspected your attachment to her; but she is so odd a girl that, though she has for some time rather liked another, she has decidedly refused them, because she thinks she ought to marry a person with a good fortune; and this is partly, I believe, from generosity to her parents, and partly owning that fortune is an object to herself for happiness. In short, she is good, amiable, and sensible, but cold, prudent, and reflecting. Lord Byron makes up to her a little; but she don't seem to admire him except as a poet, nor he her except for a wife."

Again, June 2, 1812, she says,

"Your Annabella is a mystery; liking, not liking; generous-minded, yet afraid of poverty; there is no making her out. I hope you don't make yourself unhappy about her; she is really an icicle."

Miss Milbanke's unaffected simplicity attracted Byron; even her coldness was a charm. When he came to know her, he probably found her not only agreeable, but the best woman he had ever met. Lady Melbourne, who knew him most intimately, and was also Miss Milbanke's aunt, may well have thought that, if her niece once gained control over Byron, her influence would be the making of his character. She encouraged the match by every means in her power. It is unnecessary to suppose that she did so to save Lady Caroline Lamb; that danger was over. At some time before the autumn of 1812, Byron proposed to Miss Milbanke, and was refused. He still, however, continued to correspond with her, and his 'Journal' shows that his affection for her was steadily growing during the years 1813-14. In September, 1814, he proposed a second time, and was accepted.

Byron professed to believe (Medwin, p. 59) that Miss Milbanke was not in love with him.

"I was the fashion when she first came out; I had the character of being a great rake, and was a great dandy—both of which young ladies like. She married me from vanity, and the hope of reforming and fixing me."

Byron was not the man to unbosom himself to Medwin on such a subject. Moore asked the same question—whether Lady Byron really loved Byron—of Lady Holland, who

"seemed to think she must. He was such a loveable person. I remember him (said she) sitting there with that light upon him, looking so beautiful!'"

('Journals, etc.', vol. ii. p. 324). The letters that will follow seem to show beyond all question that the marriage was one of true affection on both sides.]

[Footnote 2: Thomas Dermody (1775-1802), a precocious Irish lad, whose dissipated habits weakened his mind and body, published poems in 1792, 1800, and 1802. His collected verses appeared in 1807 under the title of 'The Harp of Erin', edited by J. G. Raymond, who had published the previous year (1806) 'The Life of Thomas Dermody' in two volumes.]



* * * * *



236.—To Thomas Moore.

May 8, 1812.

I am too proud of being your friend, to care with whom I am linked in your estimation, and, God knows, I want friends more at this time than at any other. I am "taking care of myself" to no great purpose. If you knew my situation in every point of view, you would excuse apparent and unintentional neglect. I shall leave town, I think; but do not you leave it without seeing me. I wish you, from my soul, every happiness you can wish yourself; and I think you have taken the road to secure it. Peace be with you! I fear she has abandoned me. Ever, etc.



* * * * *



237.—To Thomas Moore.

May 20, 1812.

On Monday, after sitting up all night, I saw Bellingham launched into eternity [1], and at three the same day I saw * * * launched into the country.

I believe, in the beginning of June, I shall be down for a few days in Notts. If so, I shall beat you up 'en passant' with Hobhouse, who is endeavouring, like you and every body else, to keep me out of scrapes.

I meant to have written you a long letter, but I find I cannot. If any thing remarkable occurs, you will hear it from me—if good; if bad, there are plenty to tell it. In the mean time, do you be happy.

Ever yours, etc.

P.S.—My best wishes and respects to Mrs. Moore;—she is beautiful. I may say so even to you, for I was never more struck with a countenance.



[Footnote 1: Bellingham, while engaged in the timber trade at Archangel, fancied himself wronged by the Russian Government, and the British Ambassador at St. Petersburg, Lord G. Leveson-Gower. Returning to England, he set up in Liverpool as an insurance broker, continuing to press his claims against Russia on the Ministry without success. On May 11, 1812, he shot Spencer Perceval, First Lord of the Treasury and Chancellor of the Exchequer, dead in the lobby of the House of Commons. Bellingham was hanged before Newgate on May 18. Byron took a window, says Moore ('Life', p. 164), to see the execution. He

"was accompanied on the occasion by his old schoolfellows, Mr. Bailey and Mr. John Madocks. They went together from some assembly, and, on their arriving at the spot, about three o'clock in the morning, not finding the house that was to receive them open, Mr. Madocks undertook to rouse the inmates, while Lord Byron and Mr. Bailey sauntered, arm in arm, up the street. During this interval, rather a painful scene occurred. Seeing an unfortunate woman lying on the steps of a door, Lord Byron, with some expression of compassion, offered her a few shillings; but, instead of accepting them, she violently pushed away his hand, and, starting up with a yell of laughter, began to mimic the lameness of his gait. He did not utter a word; but 'I could feel,' said Mr. Bailey, 'his arm trembling within mine, as we left her.'"

In Byron's 'Detached Thoughts' is an anecdote of Baillie, whose name is here misspelt by Moore:

"Baillie (commonly called 'Long' Baillie, a very clever man, but odd) complained in riding, to our friend Scrope Davies, that he had a 'stitch' in his side. 'I don't wonder at it,' said Scrope, 'for you ride like a tailor.' Whoever has seen B. on horseback, with his very tall figure on a small nag, would not deny the justice of the repartee."]



* * * * *



238.—To Bernard Barton [1].

8, St. James's St., June 1, 1812.

The most satisfactory answer to the concluding part of your letter is that Mr. Murray will republish your volume, if you still retain your inclination for the experiment, which I trust will be successful. Some weeks ago my friend Mr. Rogers showed me some of the stanzas in MS., and I then expressed my opinion of their merit, which a further perusal of the printed volume has given me no reason to revoke. I mention this, as it may not be disagreeable to you to learn that I entertained a very favourable opinion of your powers, before I was aware that such sentiments were reciprocal.

Waiving your obliging expressions as to my own productions, for which I thank you very sincerely, and assure you that I think not lightly of the praise of one whose approbation is valuable, will you allow me to talk to you candidly, not critically, on the subject of yours? You will not suspect me of a wish to discourage, since I pointed out to the publisher the propriety of complying with your wishes. I think more highly of your poetical talents than it would, perhaps, gratify you to hear expressed, for I believe, from what I observe of your mind, that you are above flattery. To come to the point, you deserve success, but we know, before Addison wrote his Cato', that desert does not always command it. But, suppose it attained:

"You know what ills the author's life assail, Toil, envy, want, the patron and the jail." [2]

Do not renounce writing, but never trust entirely to authorship. If you have a possession, retain it; it will be, like Prior's fellowship [3], a last and sure resource. Compare Mr. Rogers with other authors of the day; assuredly he is amongst the first of living poets, but is it to that he owes his station in society, and his intimacy in the best circles? No, it is to his prudence and respectability; the world (a bad one, I own) courts him because he has no occasion to court it. He is a poet, nor is he less so because he was something more. I am not sorry to hear that you are not tempted by the vicinity of Capel Loft, Esq're. [4], though, if he had done for you what he has done for the Bloomfields, I should never have laughed at his rage for patronising. But a truly constituted mind will ever be independent. That you may be so is my sincere wish, and, if others think as well of your poetry as I do, you will have no cause to complain of your readers.

Believe me, etc.



[Footnote 1: Bernard Barton (1784-1849), the friend of Charles Lamb, and the Quaker poet, to whose 'Poems and Letters' (1849) Edward FitzGerald prefixed a biographical introduction, published 'Metrical Effusions' (1812), 'Poems by an Amateur' (1817), 'Poems' (1820), and several other works. He was for many years a clerk in a bank at Woodbridge, in Suffolk. Byron's advice to him was that of Lamb: "Keep to your bank, and your bank will keep you." Two letters, written by him to Byron in 1814, showing his admiration of the poet, and his appreciation of the generosity of his character, and part of the draft of Byron's answer, are given in Appendix IV.]

[Footnote 2:

"There mark what ills the scholar's life assail,— Toil, envy, want, the patron and the jail."

Johnson's 'Vanity of Human Wishes', line 159.]



[Footnote 3: Matthew Prior (1664-1721) became a Fellow of St. John's College, Cambridge, in 1688.]

[Footnote 4: For Capell Lofft and the Bloomfields, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 337, 'notes' I and 2 [Footnotes 4 and 5 of Letter 167.]]



* * * * *



239.—To Lord Holland.

June 25, 1812.

MY DEAR LORD,—I must appear very ungrateful, and have, indeed, been very negligent, but till last night I was not apprised of Lady Holland's restoration, and I shall call to-morrow to have the satisfaction, I trust, of hearing that she is well.—I hope that neither politics nor gout have assailed your Lordship since I last saw you, and that you also are "as well as could be expected."

The other night, at a ball, I was presented by order to our gracious Regent, who honoured me with some conversation, and professed a predilection for poetry [1].—I confess it was a most unexpected honour, and I thought of poor Brummell's [2] adventure, with some apprehension of a similar blunder. I have now great hope, in the event of Mr. Pye's [3] decease, of "warbling truth at court," like Mr. Mallet [4] of indifferent memory.—Consider, one hundred marks a year! besides the wine and the disgrace; but then remorse would make me drown myself in my own butt before the year's end, or the finishing of my first dithyrambic.—So that, after all, I shall not meditate our laureate's death by pen or poison.

Will you present my best respects to Lady Holland? and believe me, hers and yours very sincerely.



[Footnote 1: The ball was given in June, 1812, at Miss Johnson's (see 'Memoir of John Murray', vol. i. p. 212). In the words "predilection for poetry" Byron probably refers to the phrase in the Regent's letter to the Duke of York (February 13, 1812): "I have no predilections to indulge, no resentments to gratify." Moore, in the 'Twopenny Post-bag', twice fastens on the phrase. In "The Insurrection of the Papers", a dream suggested by Lord Castlereagh's speech—"It would be impossible for His Royal Highness to disengage his person from the accumulating pile of papers that encompassed it"—he writes:

"But, oh, the basest of defections! His Letter about 'predilections'— His own dear Letter, void of grace, Now flew up in its parent's face!"

And again, in the "Parody of a Celebrated Letter":

"I am proud to declare I have no predilections, My heart is a sieve, where some scatter'd affections Are just danc'd about for a moment or two, And the 'finer' they are, the more sure to run through."]

[Footnote 2: The grandfather of Beau Brummell, who was in business in Bury Street, St. James's, also let lodgings. One of his lodgers, Charles Jenkinson, afterwards Earl of Liverpool, obtained for his landlord's son, William Brummell, a clerkship in the Treasury. The Treasury clerk became so useful to Lord North that he obtained several lucrative offices; and, dying in 1794, left L65,000 in the hands of trustees for division among his three children. The youngest of these was George Bryan Brummell (1788-1840), the celebrated Beau.

George Brummell went from Eton to Oriel College, Oxford, where his undergraduate career is traced in "Trebeck," a character in Lister's 'Granby' (1826). From Oxford Brummell entered the Tenth Hussars, a favourite regiment of the Prince of Wales. Well-built and well-mannered, possessed of admirable tact, witty and original in conversation, inexhaustible in good temper and good stories, a master of impudence and banter, the new cornet made himself so agreeable to the prince that, at the latter's marriage, Brummell attended him, both at St. James's and to Windsor, as "a kind of 'chevalier d'honneur." In 1798 Brummell left the army with the rank of captain. A year later he came of age, and settled at 4, Chesterfield Street, Mayfair.

On his intimacy with the Prince Regent, Brummell founded the extraordinary position which he achieved in society. Fashion was in those days a power; and he was its dictator—the oracle, both for men and women, of taste, manners, and dress. His ascendency rested in some degree on solid foundations. He was not a mere fop, but conspicuous for the quiet neatness of his dress—for "a certain exquisite propriety," as Byron described it to Leigh Hunt—and, at a time when the opposite was common, for the scrupulous cleanliness of his person and his linen. An excellent dancer, clever at 'vers de societe', an agreeable singer, a talented artist, a judge of china, buhl, and other objects of 'virtu', a collector of snuff-boxes, a connoisseur in canes, he had gifts which might have raised him above the Bond Street 'flaneur', or the idler at Watier's Club. Well-read in a desultory fashion, he wrote verses which were not without merit in their class. The following are the first and last stanzas of 'The Butterfly's Funeral', a poem which was suggested by Mrs. Dorset's 'Peacock at Home' and Roscoe's 'Butterfly's Ball':—