dered all notice useless. For my own part, I should have been most proud' of such an acquaintance: his very prejudices were respectable. There is a sucking epic poet at Granta, a Mr Townsend, 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, perhaps, the anticipation of the Last Day' (according, to you Nazarenes), is a little too daring; at least, it looks like telling the Lord what he is to do, and might remind an ill-natured person of the line And fools rush in where angels fear to tread. "But I don't mean to cavil, only other folks will, and he may bring all the lambs of Jacob Behmen about his ears. However, I hope he will bring it to a conclusion, though Milton is in his way. "Write to me--I dote on gossip-and make a bow to Ju—, and shake George by the hand for me; but, take care, for he has a sad sea paw. “P. S.—I would ask George here, but I don't know how to amuse him-all my horses were sold when I left England, and I have not had time to replace them. Nevertheless, if he will come down and shoot in September, he will be but he welcome; very must bring a gun, for I gave away all mine to Ali Pacha, and other Turks. Dogs, a keeper, and plenty of game, with a very large manor, I have—a lake, a boat, house-room, and neat wines." 66 SIR, LETTER LXV. TO MR MURRAY. Newstead Abbey, Notts., Sept. 5th, 1811. "You have given me no answer to my questiontell 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 inst., which is so unpoetical an employment that I need say no more. I am, sir, your most obedient, &c." The manuscripts of both his Poems having been shown, much against his own will, to Mr Gifford, the opinion of that gentleman was thus reported to him by Mr Dallas:-" Of your Satire he spoke highly; but this Poem (Childe Harold) he pronounces not only the best you have written, but equal to any of the present age." LETTER LXVI. TO MR DALLAS. 6 Newstead Abbey, September 7th, 1811. "As Gifford has been ever my Magnus Apollo,' any approbation, such as you mention, would, of course, be more welcome than all Bokara's vaunted gold, than all the gems of Samarkand.' But I am sorry the MS. was shown to him in such a manner, and I 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 con 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 caplandum vulgus, I might as well edit a magazine at once, or spin canzonettas for Vauxhall. "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 politi-tinued, but to do that, I must return to Greece and cal 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 political purpose; and as to my unlucky opinions on subjects of more importance, 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. * * * * "My work must make its way as well as it can; 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 S* *'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 Ionicæ.' 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. 6 “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 more-men, 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. H. and myself always had the worst of it with the other two; and even M. yielded to the dashing vivacity of S. D. 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 referring 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 a good evening, and am, &c." 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 apprize 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." "Newstead Abbey, Sept 17, 1811. "I can easily excuse your not writing, as you have, I hope, something better to do, and you must pardon my frequent invasions on your attention, because I have at this moment nothing to interpose between you and my epistles. "I cannot settle to any thing, and my days pass, with the exception of bodily exercise to some extent, with uniform indolence, and idle insipidity. I have been expecting, and still expect, my agent, when I shall have enough to occupy my reflections in business of no very pleasant aspect. Before my journey to Rochdale, you shall have due notice where to address me—I believe at the post-office of that township. From Murray I received a second proof of the same pages, which I requested him to show you, that any thing which may have escaped my observation may be detected before the printer lays the corner-stone of an errata column. "I am now not quite alone, having an old acquaintance and schoolfellow with me, so old, indeed, that we have nothing new to say on any subject, and yawn at each other in a sort of quiet inquietude. I hear nothing from Cawthorn, or Captain Hobhouse, and their quarto-Lord have mercy on mankind! We come on like Cerberus with our triple publica * On a leaf of one of his paper-books I find an Epigram, written at this time, which, though not perhaps particularly good, I consider myself bound to insert : On Moore's last Operatic Farce, or Farcical Opera. tions. As for myself, by myself, I must be satisfied with a comparison to Janus. "I am not at all pleased with Murray for showing the MS.; and I am certain Gifford must see it in the same light that I do. His praise is nothing to the purpose: what could he say? He could not spit in the face of one who had praised him in every possible way. I must own that I wish to have the impression removed from his mind, that I had any concern in such a paltry transaction. The more I think, the more it disquiets me; so I will say no more about it. It is bad enough to be a scribbler, without having recourse to such shifts to extort praise, or deprecate censure. It is anticipating, it is begging, kneeling, adulating the devil! the devil! the devil! and all without my wish, and contrary to my express desire. I wish Murray had been tied to Payne's neck when he jumped into the Paddington Canal,* and so tell him,-that is the proper receptacle for publishers. You have thoughts of settling in the country, why not try Notts.? I think there are places which would suit you in all points, and then you are nearer the metropolis. But of this anon. "I am yours, &c." LETTER LXIX. TO MR DALLAS. "Newstead Abbey, Sept. 21, 1811. "I have shown my respect for your suggestions by adopting them; but I have made many alterations in the first proof, over and above; as, for example: Oh Thou, in Hellas deem'd of heavenly birth, Since shamed full oft by later lyres on earth Yet there I've wander'd by the vaunted rill; and so on. So I have got rid of Dr Lowth and drunk' to boot, and very glad I am to say so. I have also sullenised the line as heretofore, and, in short, have been quite conformable. "Pray_write; you shall hear when I remove to Lancs. I have brought you and my friend Juvenal * In a note on his ❝ Hints from Horace,” he thus humour ously applies this incident : "A literary friend of mine walking out one lovely evening last summer on the eleventh bridge of the Paddington Canal, was alarmed by the cry of one in jeopardy.' He rushed along, collected a body of Irish hay-makers (supping on butter-milk in an adjoining paddock), procured three rakes, one eel-spear, and a landing-net, and at last (horresco referens) pulled out-his own publisher. The unfortunate man was gone for ever, and so was a large quarto wherewith he had taken the leap, which proved, on inquiry, to have been Mr S's last work. Its 'alacrity of sinking' was so great, that it has never since been heard of, though some maintain that it is at this moment concealed at Alderman Birch's pastry-premises, Cornhill. Be this as it may, the coroner's inquest brought in a verdict of 'Felo de Bibliopola' against a 'quarto unknown,' and circumstantial evidence being since strong against the Curse of Kehama' (of which the above words are an exact description), it will be tried by its peers next session in Grubstreet. Arthur, Alfred, Davidæis, Richard Coeur de Lion, Exodus, Exodiad, Epigoniad, Calvary, Fall of Cambria, Siege of Acre, Don Roderick, and Tom Thumb the Great, are the names of the twelve jurors. The judges are Pye, ***, and the bellman of St Sepulchre's." Hodgson upon my back, on the score of revelation. You are fervent, but he quite glowing; and if he takes half the pains to save his own soul, which he volunteers to redeem mine, great will be his reward hereafter. I honour and thank you both, but am convinced by neither. Now for notes. Besides those have sent, I shall send the observations on the Edinburgh Reviewer's remarks on the modern Greek, an Albanian song in the Albanian (not Greek) language, specimens of modern Greek from their New Testament, a comedy of Goldoni's translated, one scene, a prospectus of a friend's book, and perhaps a song or two, all in Romaic, besides their Pater Noster; so there will be enough, if not too much, with what I have already sent. Have you received the Noctes Attica?' I sent also an annotation on Portugal. Hobhouse is also forthcoming." LETTER LXX. TO MR DALLAS. "Newstead Abbey, Sept. 23, 1811. "Lisboa is the Portuguese word, consequently the very best. Ulissipont is pedantic; and, as I have Hellas and Eros not long before, there would be something like an affectation of Greek terms, which I wish to avoid, since I shall have a perilous quantity of modern Greek in my notes, as specimens of the tongue; therefore Lisboa may keep its place. You are right about the 'Hints;' they must not precede the 'Romaunt;' but Cawthorn will be savage if they don't; however, keep them back, and him in good humour, if we can, but do not let him publish. "I have adopted, I believe, most of your sugges tions, but 'Lisboa' will be an exception, to prove the rule. I have sent a quantity of notes, and shall continue; but pray let them be copied; no devil can read my hand. By the by, I do not mean to exchange the ninth verse of the Good Night.' I have no brutes, mankind; and Argus we know to be a fable. reason to suppose my dog better than his brother The Cosmopolite' was an acquisition abroad. I do not believe it is to be found in England. It is an amusing little volume, and full of French flippancy. I read, though I do not speak, the language. "I will be angry with Murray. It was a bookselling, back-shop, Paternoster-row, paltry proceeding, and if the experiment had turned out as it deserved, I would have raised all Fleet-street, and borrowed the giant's staff from St Dunstan's church, to immolate the betrayer of trust. I have written to him as he never was written to before by an author, I'll be sworn, and I hope you will amplify my wrath, till it has an effect upon him. You tell me always you have much to write about. Write it, but let us drop metaphysics;-on that point we shall never and even that nothing fatigues me. agree. I am dull and drowsy, as usual. I do nothing, Adieu." LETTER LXXI. TO MR DALLAS. "Newstead Abbey, October 11, 1811. "I have returned from Lancs., and ascertained that my property there may be made very valuable, 6 Newstead Abbey, October 11, 1811. but various circumstances very much circumscribe They will show with what gloomy fidelity, even my exertions at present. I shall be in town on busi-❘ while under the pressure of recent sorrow, he reness in the beginning of November, and perhaps at verted to the disappointment of his early affection, as Cambridge before the end of this month; but of my the chief source of all his sufferings and errors, movements you shall be regularly apprized. Your present and to come. objections I have in part done away by alterations, which I hope will suffice; and I have sent two or three additional stanzas for both Fyttes.' I have been again shocked with a death, and have lost one very dear to me in happier times; but 'I have almost forgot the taste of grief,' and supped full of horrors' till I have become callous, nor have I a tear left for an event which, five years ago, would have bowed down my head to the earth. It seems as though I were to experience in my youth the greatest misery of age. My friends fall around me, and I shall be left a lonely tree before I am withered. Other men can always take refuge in their families; I have no resource but my own reflections, and they present no prospect here or hereafter, except the selfish satisfaction of surviving my betters. I am indeed very wretched, and you will excuse my saying so, as you know I am not apt to cant of sensibility. "Instead of tiring yourself with my concerns, I should be glad to hear your plans of retirement. I suppose you would not like to be wholly shut out of society? Now, I know a large village, or small town, about twelve miles off, where your family would have the advantage of very genteel society, without the hazard of being annoyed by mercantile affluence; where you would meet with men of information and independence; and where I have friends to whom I should be proud to introduce you. There are, besides, a coffee-room, assemblies, &c. &c., which bring people together. My mother had a house there some years, and I am well acquainted with the economy of Southwell, the name of this little commonwealth. Lastly, you will not be very remote from, me; and though I am the very worst companion for young people in the world, this objection would not apply to you, whom I could see frequently. Your expenses too would be such as best suit your inclinations, more or less, as you thought proper; but little very would be requisite to enable you to enter into all the gaieties of a country life. You could be as quiet or bustling as you liked, and certainly as well situated as on the lakes of Cumberland, unless you have a particular wish to be picturesque. 66 'Pray, is your Ionian friend in town? You have promised me an introduction.-You mention having consulted some friends on the MSS.-Is not this contrary to our usual way? Instruct Mr Murray not to allow his shopman to call the work Child of Harrow's Pilgrimage!!!' as he has done to some of my❘ astonished friends, who wrote to inquire after my sanity on the occasion, as well they might. I have heard nothing of Murray, whom I scolded heartily.Must I write more notes?-Are there not enough?— Cawthorn must be kept back with the Hints.'—I hope he is getting on with Hobhouse's quarto. "Good evening. Yours ever, &c." Of the same date with this melancholy letter are the following verses, never before printed, which he wrote in answer to some lines received from a friend, exhorting him to be cheerful, and to" banish care." "Oh! banish care :"-such ever be "T were long to tell, and vain to hear, And I have acted well my part, But let this pass-I'll whine no more, I'll hie me to its haunts again. Thou hear'st of one, whose deepening crimes The anticipations of his own future career in these concluding lines are of a nature, it must be owned, to awaken more of horror than of interest, were we not prepared, by so many instances of his exaggeration in this respect, not to be startled at any lengths to which the spirit of self-libelling would carry him. It seemed as if, with the power of painting fierce and gloomy personages, he had also the ambition to be, himself, the dark "sublime he drew," and that, in his fondness for the delineation of heroic crime, he endeavoured to fancy, where he could not find, in his own character, fit subjects for his pencil. It was about the time when he was thus bitterly many Parliament would suit me well,-any thing to cure me of conjugating the accursed verb 'ennuyer.' "When shall you be at Cambridge? You have hinted, I think, that your friend Bland is returned from Holland. I have always had a great respect for his talents, and for all that I have heard of his character; but of me, I believe, he knows nothing, except that he heard my 6th form repetitions ten months together, at the average of two lines a morning, and those never perfect. I remembered him and his Slaves' as I passed between Capes Matapan, St Angelo, and his Isle of Ceriga, and I always bewailed the absence of the Anthology. I suppose he will now translate Vondel, the Dutch Shakspeare, and Gysbert van Amstel' will easily be accommodated to our stage in its present state; and I presume he saw the Dutch poem, where the love of Pyramus and Thishe is compared to the passion of Christ; also the love of Lucifer for Eve, and other varieties of Low Country literature. No doubt you will think me crazed to talk of such things, but they are all in black and white and good repute on the banks of every canal from Amsterdam to Alkmaar. feeling and expressing the blight which his heart had suffered from a real object of affection, that his poems on the death of an imaginary one," Thyrza," were written ;-nor is it any wonder, when we consider the peculiar circumstances under which these beautiful effusions flowed from his fancy, that of all his strains of pathos, they should be the most touchin gand most pure. They were, indeed, the essence, the abstract spirit, as it were, of griefs-a confluence of sad thoughts from many sources of sorrow, refined and warmed in their passage through his fancy, and forming thus one deep reservoir of mournful feeling. In retracing the happy hours he had known with the friends now lost, all the ardent tenderness of his youth came back upon him. His school-sports with the favourites of his boyhood, Wingfield and Tattersall,—his summer days with Long, and those evenings of music and romance, which he had dreamed away in the society of his adopted brother, Eddlestone,-all these recollections of the young and dead now came to mingle themselves in his mind with the image of her, who, though living, was, for him, as much lost as they, and diffused that general feeling of sadness and fondness through his soul, which found a vent in these poems. No friendship, however warm, could "My Poesy is in the hands of its various pubhave inspired sorrow so passionate; as no love, how-lishers; but the 'Hints from Horace' (to which I ever pure, could have kept passion so chastened. It was the blending of the two affections, in his memory and imagination, that thus gave birth to an ideal object combining the best features of both, and drew from him these saddest and tenderest of lovepoems, in which we find all the depth and intensity of real feeling touched over with such a light as no reality ever wore. The following letter gives some further account of the course of his thoughts and pursuits at this period. LETTER LXXII. TO MR HODGSON. "Newstead Abbey, Oct. 13th, 1811. "You will begin to deem me a most liberal correspondent; but as my letters are free, you will overlook their frequency. I have sent you answers in prose and verset to all your late communications, and though I am invading your ease again, I don't know why, or what to put down that you are not acquainted with already. I am growing nervous (how you will laugh!)-but it is true,-really, wretchedly, ridiculously, fineladically nervous. Your climate kills me; I can neither read, write, or amuse myself, or any one else. My days are listless, and my nights restless; I have very seldom any society, At this present and when I have, I run out of it. writing' there are in the next room three ladies, and I have stolen away to write this grumbling letter.-I don't know that I sha'n't end with insanity, for I find a want of method in arranging my thoughts that perplexes me strangely; but this looks more like silliness than madness, as Scrope Davies would facetiously remark in his consoling manner. I must try the hartshorn of your company; and a session of * See the extract from one of his journals, page 27. + The verses in the preceding page, dated October 11th. "Yours ever "B. have subjoined some savage lines on Methodism, and "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage' must wait till Murray's is finished. He is making a tour in Middlesex, and is to return soon, when high matter may be expected. He wants to have it in quarto, which is a cursed unsaleable size; but it is pestilent long, and one must obey one's bookseller. I trust Murray will pass the Paddington Canal without being seduced by Payne and Mackinlay's example,—I say Payne and Mackinlay, supposing that the partnership held good. Drury, the villain, has not written to me; 'I am never (as Mrs Lumpkin says to Tony) to be gratified with the monster's dear wild notes.' "So you are going (going indeed!) into orders. You must make your peace with the Eclectic Reviewers-they accuse you of impiety, I fear, with injustice. Demetrius, the Sieger of Cities,' is here, with 'Gilpin Horner.' The painter * is not necessary, as the portraits he already painted are (by anticipation) very like the new animals.-Write, and send me your 'Love Song'-but I want 'paulo majora' from you. Make a dash before you are a deacon, and try a dry publisher. "Yours always, * Barber, whom he had brought down to Newstead to paint his wolf and his bear. 14 |