Ær. 23. LETTERS TO HODGSON AND DALLAS. not, I cannot tell, but probably one of them.1 Let me know when I may expect you, that I may tell you when I go and when return. I have not yet been to Lancs. Davies has been here, and has invited me to Cambridge for a week in October, so that, peradventure, we may encounter glass to glass. His gaiety (death cannot mar it) has done me service; but, after all, ours was a hollow laughter. "You will write to me? I am solitary, and I never felt solitude irksome before. Your anxiety about the critique on book is amusing; as it was anonymous, certes it was of little consequence: I wish it had produced a little more confusion, being a lover of literary malice. Are you doing nothing? writing nothing? printing nothing? why not your Satire on Methodism? the subject (supposing the public to be blind to merit) would do wonders. Besides, it would be as well for a destined deacon to prove his orthodoxy. It really would give me pleasure to see you properly appreciated. I say really, as, being an author, my humanity might be suspected. Believe me, dear H. yours always." LETTER 61. TO MR. DALLAS. "Newstead, August 21. 1811. "Your letter gives me credit for more acute feelings than I possess; for though I feel tolerably miserable, yet I am at the same time subject to a kind of hysterical merriment, or rather laughter without merriment, which I can neither account for nor conquer, and yet I do not feel relieved by it; but an indifferent person would think me in excellent spirits. We must forget these things,' and have recourse to our old selfish comforts, or rather comfortable selfishness. I do not think I shall return to London immediately, and shall therefore accept freely what is offered courteously—your mediation between me and Murray. I don't think my name will answer the purpose, and you must be aware that my plaguy Satire will bring the north and south Grub Streets down upon the 'Pilgrimage;' — but, nevertheless, if Murray makes a point of it, and you coincide with him, I will do it daringly; so let it be entitled By the author of English Bards and Scotch Reviewers.' My remarks on the Romaic, &c., once intended to accompany the Hints from Horace,' shall go ¡ [" Give but an Englishman his — e and ease, Beef and a sea-coal fire, he's yours for ever." Venice Preserved, act ii. sc. 2.] [Walter Rodwell Wright, author of " Horæ Ionicæ," a poem, descriptive of the Ionian Islands, and the neigh. bouring coast of Greece: 133 along with the other, as being indeed more appropriate; also the smaller poems now in my possession, with a few selected from those published in Hobhouse's Miscellany. I have found amongst my poor mother's papers all my letters from the East, and one in particular of some length from Albania. From this, if necessary, I can work up a note or two on that subject. As I kept no journal, the letters written on the spot are the best. But of this anon, when we have definitively arranged. 64 ap S Has Murray shown the work to any one? He may but I will have no traps for plause. Of course there are little things I would wish to alter, and perhaps the two stanzas of a buffooning cast on London's Sunday are as well left out. I much wish to avoid identifying Childe Harold's character with mine, and that, in sooth, is my second objection to my name appearing in the title-page. When you have made arrangements as to time, size, type, &c. favour me with a reply. I am giving you an universe of trouble, which thanks cannot atone for. I made a kind of prose apology for my scepticism at the head of the MS., which, on recollection, is so much more like an attack than a defence, that, haply, it might better be omitted :perpend, pronounce. After all, I fear Murray will be in a scrape with the orthodox; but I cannot help it, though I wish him well through it. As for me, I have supped full of criticism,' and I don't think that the most dismal treatise' will stir and rouse my fell of hair' till Birnam wood do come to Dunsinane.' "I shall continue to write at intervals, and hope you will pay me in kind. How does Pratt get on, or rather get off, Joe Blackett's posthumous stock? You killed that poor man amongst you, in spite of your Ionian friend and myself, who would have saved him from Pratt, poetry, present poverty, and posthumous oblivion. Cruel patronage! to ruin a man at his calling; but then he is a divine subject for subscription and biography; and Pratt, who makes the most of his dedications, has inscribed the volume to no less than five families of distinction. "I am sorry you don't like Harry White: with a great deal of cant, which in him was sincere (indeed it killed him as you killed Joe Blackett), certes there "Wright! 'twas thy happy lot at once to view is poesy and genius. I don't say this on account of my simile and rhymes; but surely he was beyond all the Bloomfields and Blacketts, and their collateral cobblers, whom Lofft and Pratt have or may kidnap from their calling into the service of the trade. You must excuse my flippancy, for I am writing I know not what, to escape from myself. Hobhouse is gone to Ireland. Mr. Davies has been here on his way to Harrowgate. "You did not know Matthews: he was a man of the most astonishing powers, as he sufficiently proved at Cambridge, by carrying off more prizes and fellowships, against the ablest candidates, than any other graduate on record; but a most decided atheist, indeed noxiously so, for he proclaimed his principles in all societies. I knew him well, and feel a loss not easily to be supplied to myself— to Hobhouse never. Let me hear from you, and believe me," &c. "A domestic calamity in the death of a near relation has hitherto prevented my addressing you on the subject of this letter. My friend, Mr. Dallas, has placed in your hands a manuscript poem written by me in Greece, which he tells me you do not object to publishing. But he also informed me in London that you wished to send the MS. to Mr. Gifford. Now, though no one would feel more gratified by the chance of obtaining his observations on a work than myself, there is in such a proceeding a kind of petition for praise, that neither my pride or whatever you please to call it will admit. Mr. G. is not only the first satirist of the day, but editor of one of the principal reviews. As such, he is the last man whose censure (however eager to avoid it) I would deprecate by clandestine means. You will therefore retain the manuscript in your own care, or, if it must needs be shown, send it to another. Though not very patient of censure, I would fain obtain fairly any little praise my rhymes might deserve, at all events not by extortion, and the humble solicit 1["So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain, ations of a bandied-about MS. I am sure a little consideration will convince you it would be wrong. "If you determine on publication, I have some smaller poems (never published), a few notes, and a short dissertation on the literature of the modern Greeks (written at Athens), which will come in at the end of the volume. And, if the present poem should succeed, it is my intention, at some subsequent period, to publish some selections from my first work, my Satire, — another nearly the same length, and a few other things, with the MS. now in your hands, in two volumes. But of these hereafter. You will apprize me of your determination. I am, Sir, your very obedient," &c. LETTER 63. TO MR. DALLAS. "Newstead Abbey, August 25. 1811. Being fortunately enabled to frank, I do not spare scribbling, having sent you packets within the last ten days. I am passing solitary, and do not expect my agent to accompany me to Rochdale before the second week in September; a delay which perplexes me, as I wish the business over, and should at present welcome employment. I sent you exordiums, annotations, &c. for the forthcoming quarto, if quarto it is to be : and I also have written to Mr. Murray my objection to sending the MS. to Juvenal, but allowing him to show it to any others of the calling. Hobhouse is amongst the types already so, between his prose and my verse, the world will be decently drawn upon for its paper-money and patience. Besides all this, my Imitation of Horace' is gasping for the press at Cawthorn's, but I am hesitating as to the how and the when, the single or the double, the present or the future. You must excuse all this, for I have nothing to say in this lone mansion but of myself, and yet I would willingly talk or think of aught else. . "What are you about to do? Do you think of perching in Cumberland, as you opined when I was in the metropolis? Ifj f you mean to retire, why not occupy Miss*** [Milbanke's] Cottage of Friendship,' late the seat of Cobbler Joe, for whose death you and others are answerable? His Orphan Daughter' (pathetic Pratt !) will, certes, turn out a shoemaking Sappho. Have you no remorse? I think that elegant address 2 ["In Seaham church-yard, without any memorial," says Mr. Surtees, "rest the remains of Joseph Blackett, an unfortunate child of genius, whose last days were soothed by the generous attention of the family of Milbanke."-Hist. of Durham, vol. i. p. 272.] Ær. 23. HENRY KIRKE WHITE. to Miss Dallas should be inscribed on the cenotaph which Miss *** [Milbanke] means to stitch to his memory. "The newspapers seem much disappointed at his Majesty's not dying, or doing something better. I presume it is almost over. If parliament meets in October, I shall be in town to attend. I am also invited to Cambridge for the beginning of that month, but am first to jaunt to Rochdale. Now Matthews is gone, and Hobhouse in Ireland, I have hardly one left there to bid me welcome, except my inviter. At three-andtwenty I am left alone, and what more can we be at seventy? It is true I am young enough to begin again, but with whom can I retrace the laughing part of life? It is odd how few of my friends have died a quiet death, I mean, in their beds. But a quiet life is of more consequence. Yet one loves squabbling and jostling better than yawning. This last word admonishes me to relieve you from yours very truly," &c. LETTER 64. TO MR. DALLAS. "Newstead Abbey, Aug. 27. 1811. “I was so sincere in my note on the late Charles Matthews, and do feel myself so totally unable to do justice to his talents, that the passage must stand for the very reason you bring against it. To him all the men I ever knew were pigmies. He was an intellectual giant. It is true I loved Wingfield better; he was the earliest and the dearest, and one of the few one could never repent of having loved: but in ability -ah! you did not know Matthews! "Childe Harold' may wait and welcome -books are never the worse for delay in the publication. So you have got our heir, George Anson Byron, and his sister, with you. "You may say what you please, but you are one of the murderers of Blackett, and yet you won't allow Harry White's genius. Setting aside his bigotry, he surely ranks next Chatterton. It is astonishing how little he was known; and at Cambridge no one thought or heard of such a man till his death rendered all notice useless. For my own part, I should have been most proud of such an acquaintance: his very prejudices [Henry Kirke White died at Cambridge, in 1806."Unhappy White! while life was in its spring, And thy young muse just waved her joyous wing, The spoiler swept that soaring lyre away, Which else had sounded an immortal lay.”. English Bards, &c. His Remains," with a memoir of his Life by Mr. Southey, have frequently been reprinted.] [The Rev. George Townsend, of Trinity College, Cambridge.] 135 were respectable. There is a sucking epic poet at Granta, a Mr. Townsend 2, protégé of the late Cumberland. Did you ever hear of him and his Armageddon?' I think his plan (the man I don't know) borders on the sublime though, perpaps, the anticipation of the Last Day' (according to you Nazarenes) is a little too daring at least, it looks like telling the Lord what he is to do, and might remind an ill-natured person of the line, 'And fools rush in where angels fear to tread.' But I don't mean to cavil, only other folks will, and he may bring all the lambs of Jacob Behmen about his ears. However, I hope he will bring it to a conclusion, though Milton is in his way. 3 "Write to me I dote on gossip - and make a bow to Ju-, and shake George by the hand for me; but, take care, for he has a sad sea paw. "P. S.-I would ask George here, but I don't know how to amuse him- all my horses were sold when I left England, and I have not had time to replace them. Nevertheless, if he will come down and shoot in September, he will be very welcome : but he must bring a gun, for I gave away all mine to Ali Pacha, and other Turks. Dogs, large manor, I have—a lake, a boat, housea keeper, and plenty of game, with a very room, and neat wines." LETTER 65. TO MR. MURRAY. "Sir, "Newstead Abbey, Notts., Sept. 5. 1811. "The time seems to be past when (as Dr. Johnson said) a man was certain to 'hear the truth from his bookseller,' for you have paid me so many compliments, that, if I was not the veriest scribbler on earth, I should feel affronted. As I accept your compliments, it is but fair I should give equal or greater credit to your objections, the more so, as I believe them to be well founded. With regard to the political and metaphysical parts, I am afraid I can alter nothing; but I have high authority for my errors in that point, for even the Eneid was a political poem, and written for a 3 [In 1815, Mr. Townsend published eight out of the twelve books of which "Armageddon' was to consist, but never brought the poem to a conclusion, "from a conviction," he says, " of his inability to support a subject, under which the greatest mental powers must inevitably sink."] 4 [Julia-Maria, sister of the present Lord Byron; who married, in 1817, the Rev. Robert Heath, Fellow of St. John's College, Oxford.] political purpose; and as to my unlucky opinions on subjects of more importance, I am too sincere in them for recantation. On Spanish affairs I have said what I saw, and every day confirms me in that notion of the result formed on the spot; and I rather think honest John Bull is beginning to come round again to that sobriety which Massena's retreat had begun to reel from its centre- the usual consequence of unusual success. So you perceive I cannot alter the sentiments; but if there are any alterations in the structure of the versification you would wish to be made, I will tag rhymes and turn stanzas as much as you please. As for the orthodox, let us hope they will buy, on purpose to abuse - you will forgive the one, if they will do the other. You are aware that any thing from my pen must expect no quarter, on many accounts; and as the present publication is of a nature very different from the former, we must not be sanguine. 'You have given me no answer to my question- tell me fairly, did you show the MS. to some of your corps?—I sent an introductory stanza to Mr. Dallas, to be forwarded to you; the poem else will open too abruptly. The stanzas had better be numbered in Roman characters. There is a disquisition on the literature of the modern Greeks, and some smaller poems to come in at the close. These are now at Newstead, but will be sent in time. If Mr. D. has lost the stanza and note annexed to it, write, and I will send it myself. You tell me to add two cantos, but I am about to visit my collieries in Lancashire on the 15th instant, which is so unpoetical an employment that I need say no more. I am, sir, your most obedient," &c. than all Bocara's vaunted gold, than all the gems of Samarcand.' But I am sorry the MS. was shown to him in such a manner, and had written to Murray to say as much, before I was aware that it was too late. Your objection to the expression 'central line' I can only meet by saying that, before Childe Harold left England, it was his full intention to traverse Persia, and return by India, which he could not have done without passing the equinoctial. The other errors you mention, I must correct in the progress through the press. I feel honoured by the wish of such men that the poem should be continued, but to do that I must return to Greece and Asia ; I must have a warm sun and a blue sky; I cannot describe scenes so dear to me by a sea-coal fire. I had projected an additional canto when I was in the Troad and Constantinople, and if I saw them again, it would go on; but under existing circumstances and sensations, I have neither harp, 'heart, nor voice' to proceed. I feel that you are all right as to the metaphysical part; but I also feel that I am sincere, and that if I am only to write ad captandum vulgus,' I might as well edit a magazine at once, or spin canzonettas for Vauxhall. My work must make its way as well as it can; I know I have every thing against me, angry poets and prejudices; but if the poem is a poem, it will surmount these obstacles, and if not, it deserves its fate. Your friend's Ode? I have read-it is no great compliment to pronounce it far superior to Smythe's on the same subject, or to the merits of the new Chancellor. It is evidently the production of a man of taste, and a poet, though I should not be willing to say it was fully equal to what might be expected from the author of 'Hora Ionica. I thank you for it, and that is more than I would do for any other Ode of the present day. "I am very sensible of your good wishes, and, indeed, I have need of them. My whole life has been at variance with propriety, not to say decency; my circumstances are become involved; my friends are dead or estranged, and my existence a dreary void. In Matthews I have lost my 'guide, philosopher, and friend;' in Wingfield a friend only, but one whom I could have wished to have preceded in his long journey. 2 [An Ode written by Mr. Walter Wright, on the occasion of the Duke of Gloucester's installation as Chancellor of the University of Cambridge.] 3 [Professor Smythe, of Peter House. See antè, p. 76. J Er. 23. Matthews was indeed an extraordinary man; it has not entered into the heart of a stranger to conceive such a man: there was the stamp of immortality in all he said or did; and now what is he? When we see such men pass away and be no moremen, who seem created to display what the Creator could make his creatures, gathered into corruption, before the maturity of minds that might have been the pride of posterity, what are we to conclude? For my own part. I am bewildered. To me he was much, to Hobhouse every thing. My poor Hobhouse doted on Matthews. For me, I did not love quite so much as I honoured him; I was indeed so sensible of his infinite superiority, that though I did not envy, I stood in awe of it. He, Hobhouse, Davies, and myself, formed a coterie of our own at Cambridge and elsewhere. Davies is a wit and man of the world, and feels as much as such a character can do; but not as Hobhouse has been affected. Davies, who is not a scribbler, has always beaten us all in the war of words, and by his colloquial powers at once delighted and kept us in order. Hobhouse and myself always had the worst of it with the other two; and even Matthews yielded to_the_dashing vivacity of Scrope Davies. But I am talking to you of men, or boys, as if you cared about such beings. "I expect mine agent down on the 14th to proceed to Lancashire, where I hear from all quarters that I have a very valuable property in coals, &c. I then intend to accept an invitation to Cambridge in October, and shall, perhaps, run up to town. I have four invitations to Wales, Dorset, Cambridge, and Chester; but I must be a man of business. I am quite alone, as these long letters sadly testify. I perceive, by refering to your letter, that the Ode is from the author; make my thanks acceptable to him. His muse is worthy a nobler theme. You will write as usual, I hope. I wish you good evening, and am," &c. 137 to my wishes, as Mr. D. could have explained, and as my own letter to you did, in fact, explain, with my motives for objecting to such a proceeding. Some late domestic events, of which you are probably aware, prevented my letter from being sent before; indeed, I hardly conceived you would have so hastily thrust my productions into the hands of a stranger, who could be as little pleased by receiving them, as their author is at their being offered, in such a manner, and to such a man. My address, when I leave Newstead, will be to Rochdale, Lancashire;' but I have not yet fixed the day of departure, and I will apprise you when ready to set off. "You have placed me in a very ridiculous situation, but it is past, and nothing more is to be said on the subject. You hinted to me that you wished some alterations to be made; if they have nothing to do with politics or religion, I will make them with great readiness. 'I am, Sir, &c. &c. 66 TO MR. MURRAY. "BYRON." "Newstead Abbey, Sept. 16. 1811.1 "I return the proof, which I should wish to be shown to Mr. Dallas, who understands typographical arrangements much better than I can pretend to do. The printer may place the notes in his own way, or any way, so that they are out of my way; I care nothing about types or margins. "If you have any communication to make, I shall be here at least a week or ten days longer. "I am, Sir," &c. &c. "Newstead Abbey, Sept. 17. 1811. "I can easily excuse your not writing, as you have, I hope, something better to do, and you must pardon my frequent invasions on your attention, because I have at this moment nothing to interpose between you and my epistles. "I cannot settle to any thing, and my days pass, with the exception of bodily exercise to some extent, with uniform indolence, and idle insipidity. I have been expecting, and still expect, my agent, when I shall have enough to occupy my reflections in business of no very pleasant aspect. The poet's fame grows brittle We knew before That Little's Moore, But now 'tis Moore that's little." Sept. 14. 1811. ["M. P.; or the Blue Stocking" was performed at the Lyceum, for the first time, on the 9th of September.] |