pitiful-hearted. However, I will tell her all about it trying my part, though I should have been less when I see her. severe upon the Reviewée. "Bell desires me to say all kinds of civilities, and assure you of her recognition and high consideration. I will tell you of our movements south, which may be in about three weeks from this present writing. By the way, don't engage yourself in any travelling expedition, as I have a plan of travel into Italy, which | we will discuss. And then, think of the poesy wherewithal we should overflow, from Venice to Vesuvius, to say nothing of Greece, through all which-God | willing-we might perambulate in one twelve-months. If I take my wife, you can take yours; and if I leave mine, you may do the same. Mind you stand by me, in either case, Brother Bruin,' 6 “ And believe me inveterately yours, "B." "Your seal is the best and prettiest of my set, and I thank you very much therefor. I have just been-or, rather, ought to be-very much shocked by the death of the Duke of Dorset. We were at school together, and there I was passionately attached to him. Since, we have never met-but once, I think, since 1805—and it would be a paltry affectation to pretend that I had any feeling for him worth the name. But there was a time in my life when this event would have broken my heart; and all I can say for it now is that—it is not worth breaking. "Adieu-it is all a farce." LETTER CCXVI. TO MR MOORE. LETTER CCXV. TO MR MOORE. « February 22d, 1815. "Yesterday I sent off the packet and letter to Edinburgh. It consisted of forty-one pages, so that I have not added a line; but in my letter, I mentioned what passed between you and me in autumn, as my inducement for presuming to trouble him either with my own or** 's lucubrations. I am anything but sure that it will do; but I have told J. that if there is any decent raw material in it, he may cut it into what shape he pleases, and warp it to his liking. "So you won't go abroad, then, with me,-but alone. I fully purpose starting much about the time you mention, and alone, too. * ** "I hope J. won't think me very impudent in sending only ; there was not room for a syllable. I have avowed ** as the author, and said that you thought or said, when I met you last, that he (J. ) would not be angry at the coalition (though, alas! we have not coalesced), and so, if I have got into a scrape, I must get out of it-Heaven knows how. "Your Anacreon is come, and with it I sealed (its first impression) the packet and epistle to our patron. “ Curse the Melodies and the Tribes, to boot. t Braham is to assist-or hath assisted-but will do no more good than a second physician. I merely interfered to oblige a whim of K.'s, and all I have got by it was 6 a speech' and a receipt for stewed oysters. "Not meet'-pray don't say so. We must meet somewhere or somehow. Newstead is out of the question, being nearly sold again, or, if not, it is uninhabitable for my spouse. Pray write again. will soon. I | "P.S.-Pray when do you come out? ever, or never? I hope I have made no blunder; but I certainly think you said to me (after W* *th, whom I first pondered upon, was given up) that ** and I might attempt ****. His length alone prevented me from * A seal, with the head of Anacreon, which I had given him. † I had taken the liberty of laughing a little at the manner in which some of his Hebrew Melodies had been set to music. ،، ،، MY DEAR THOM, " March 2d, 1815. Jeffrey has sent me the most friendly of all possible letters, and has accepted * *'s article. He says he has long liked not only, &c. &c., but my 'character.' This must be your doing, you dog-ar'n't you ashamed of yourself, knowing me so well? This is what one gets for having you for a father confessor. "I feel merry enough to send you a sad song.* You once asked me for some words which you would set. Now you may set or not, as you like,—but there they are, in a legible hand, f and not in mine, but of my own scribbling; so you may say of them what you please. Why don't you write to me? I shall make you 'a speech' if you don't respond quickly. "I am in such a state of sameness and stagnation, and so totally occupied in consuming the fruits-and sauntering-and playing dull games at cards-and yawning-and trying to read old Annual Registers and the daily papers-and gathering shells on the shore-and watching the growth of stunted gooseberry bushes in the garden-that I have neither time nor sense to say more than "Yours ever, "B. "P.S.-I open my letter again to put a question to you. What would Lady C-k, or any other fashionable Pidcock, give to collect you and Jeffrey and me to one party? I have been answering his letter, whieh suggested this dainty query. I can't help laughing at the thoughts of your face and mine; and our anxiety to keep the Aristarch in good humour during the early part of a compotation, till we got drunk enough to make him 'a speech.' I think the critic would have much the best of usof one, at least-for I don't think diffidence (I mean social) is a disease of yours." * The verses inclosed were those melancholy ones, now printed in his works, "There's not a joy the world can give like those it takes away." + The MS. was in the handwriting of Lady Byron. These allusions to "a speech" are connected with a little incident, not worth mentioning, which had amused us both when I was in town. He was rather fond (and had been always so, as may be seen in his carly letters) of thus harping on some conventional phrase or joke. LETTER CCXVII. TO MR MOORE. "March 8th, 1815. "An event the death of poor Dorset-and the recollection of what I once felt, and ought to have felt now, but could not-set me pondering, and finally into the train of thought which you have in your hands. I am very glad you like them, for I flatter myself they will pass as an imitation of your style. If I could imitate it well, I should have no great ambition of originality.—I wish I could make you exclaim with Dennis, "That's my thunder, by G-d!' I wrote them with a view to your setting them, and as a present to Power, if he would accept the words, and you did not think yourself degraded, for once in a way, by marrying them to music. "Sunburn N**!-why do you always twit me with his vile Ebrew nasalities? Have I not told you it was all K.'s doing, and my own exquisite facility of temper? But thou wilt be a wag, Thomas; and see what you get for it. Now for my revenge. 6 "Depend-and perpend-upon it that your opinion of **'s Poem will travel through one or other of the quintuple correspondents, till it reaches the ear and the liver of the author. Your adventure, however, is truly laughable-but how could you be such a potatoe? You, 'a brother' (of the quill) too, near the throne,' to confide to a man's own publisher (who has bought,' or rather sold, 'golden opinions' about him) such a damnatory parenthesis! Between you and me,' quotha-it reminds me of a passage in the Heir at Law-Tête-à-tête with Lady Duberly, I suppose'-' No-tête-à-tête with five hundred people;' and your confidential communication will doubtless be in circulation to that amount, in a short time, with several additions, and in several letters, all signed L. II. R. O. B., &c. &c. &c. "We leave this place to-morrow, and shall stop on our way to town (in the interval of taking a house there) at Col. Leigh's, near Newmarket, where any epistle of yours will find its welcome way. "I have been very comfortable here,-listening to that d-d monologue, which elderly gentlemen call conversation, and in which my pious father-in-law repeats himself every evening-save one, when he played upon the fiddle. However, they have been very kind and hospitable, and I like them and the place vastly, and I hope they will live many happy months. Bell is in health, and unvaried good-humour and behaviour. But we are all in the agonies of packing and parting; and I suppose by this time tomorrow I shall be stuck in the chariot with my chin upon a band-box. I have prepared, however, an * He here alludes to a circumstance which I had communicated to him in a preceding letter. In writing to one of the numerous partners of a well-known publishing establishment (with which I have since been lucky enough to form a more intimate connexion), I had said confidentially (as I thought), in reference to a Poem that had just appeared, Between you and me, I do not much admire Mr**'s Poem." The letter being chiefly upon business, was answered through the regular business channel, and, to my dismay, concluded with the following words :-"We are very sorry that you do not approve of Mr* *'s new Poem, and are your obedient, &c. &c. L. H. R. O., &c. &c." "Now to your letter. Napoleon-but the papers will have told you all. I quite think with you upon the subject, and for my real thoughts this time last year, I would refer you to the last pages of the Journal I gave you. I can forgive the rogue for utterly falsifying every line of mine Ode-which I take to be the last and uttermost stretch of human magnanimity. Do you remember the story of a certain abbé, who wrote a Treatise on the Swedish Constitution, and proved it indissoluble and eternal? Just as he had corrected the last sheet, news came that Gustavus III had destroyed this immortal government. Sir,' quoth the abbé, 'the King of Sweden may overthrow the constitution, but not my book!!' I think of the abbé, but not with him. "Making every allowance for talent and most consummate daring, there is, after all, a good deal in luck or destiny. He might have been stopped by our frigates or wrecked in the Gulf of Lyons, which is particularly tempestuous-or-a thousand things. But he is certainly Fortune's favourite, and Once fairly set out on his party of pleasure, Taking towns at his liking and crowns at his leisure, Making balls for the ladies, and bows to his foes. the middle of the royal army, and the immediate You must have seen the account of his driving into effect of his pretty speeches. And now, if he don't drub the allies, there is no purchase in money.' If he can take France by himself, the devil's in 't if he don't repulse the invaders, when backed by those celebrated sworders those boys of the blade, the Imperial Guard, and the old and new army. It is impossible not to be dazzled and overwhelmed by his character and career. Nothing ever so disappointed me as his abdication, and nothing could have reconciled me to him but some such revival as his recent exploit; though no one could anticipate such a complete and brilliant renovation. "To your question, I can only answer that there have been some symptoms which look a little gestatory. It is a subject upon which I am not particularly anxious, except that I think it would please her uncle, Lord Wentworth, and her father and The death of his infant god-daughter, Olivia Byron Moore. mother. The former (Lord W.) is now in town, and in very indifferent health. You perhaps know that his property, amounting to seven or eight thousand a year, will eventually devolve upon Bell. But the old gentleman has been so very kind to her and me, that I hardly know how to wish him in heaven, if he can be comfortable on earth. Her father is still in the country. "We mean to metropolize to-morrow, and you will address your next to Piccadilly. We have got the Duchess of Devon's house there, she being in France. "I don't care what Power says to secure the property of the Song, so that it is not complimentary to me, nor any thing about 'condescending' or 'noble author'-both 'vile phrases,' as Polonius says. 86 DEAR SIR, "It will give me great pleasure to comply with your request, though I hope there is still taste enough left amongst us to render it almost unnecessary, sordid and interested as, it must be admitted, many of the trade' are, where circumstances give them an advantage. I trust you do not permit yourself to be depressed by the temporary partiality of what is called 'the public' for the favourites of the moment; all experience is against the permanency of such impressions. You must have lived to see many of these pass away, and will survive many more-I mean personally, for poetically, I would not insult you by a compa rison. "If I may be permitted, I would suggest that there never was such an opening for tragedy. In Kean, there is an actor worthy of expressing the thoughts of the characters which you have every power of imbodying; and I cannot but regret that the part of Ordonio was disposed of before his appearance at Drury-lane. We have had nothing to be mentioned in the same breath with Remorse' for very many years; and I should think that the reception of that play was sufficient to encourage the highest hopes of author and audience. It is to be hoped that you are proceeding in a career which could not but be successful. With my best respects to Mr Bowles, I have the honour to be "P.S.-You mention my Satire,' lampoon, or whatever you or others please to call it. I can only say, that it was written when I was very young and very angry, and has been a thorn in my side ever since; more particularly as almost all the persons animadverted upon became subsequently my acquaintances, and some of them my friends, which is 'heaping fire upon an enemy's head,' and forgiving me too readily to permit me to forgive myself. The part applied to you is pert, and petulant, and shallow enough; but, although I have long done every thing in my power to suppress the circulation of the whole thing, I shall always regret the wantonness or generality of many of its attempted attacks." It was in the course of this spring that Lord Byron and Sir Walter Scott became, for the first time, personally acquainted with each other. Mr Murray, having been previously on a visit to the latter gentleman, had been intrusted by him with a superb Turkish dagger, as a present to Lord Byron; and the noble poet, on their meeting this year, in London, -the only time when these two great men had ever an opportunity of enjoying each other's society,presented to Sir Walter Scott, in return, a vase containing some human bones that had been dug up from under a part of the old walls of Athens. The reader, however, will be much better pleased to have these particulars in the words of Sir Walter Scott himself, who, with that good-nature which renders him no less amiable than he is admirable, has found time, in the midst of all his marvellous labours for the world, to favour me with the following interesting communication.* * A few passages at the beginning of these recollections have been omitted, as containing particulars relative to Lord Byron's mother, which have already been mentioned in the early part of this work. Among these, however, there is one anecdote, the repetition of which will be easily pardoned, on account of the infinitely greater interest and authenticity imparted to its details by coming from such an eye-witness as Sir Walter Scott:-"I remember," he says, having scen Lord Byron's mother before she was married, and a certain coincidence rendered the circumstance rather remarkable It was during Mrs Siddons's first or second visit to Edinburgh, when the music of that wonderful actress's voice, looks, manner, and person, produced the strongest effect which could possibly be exerted by a human being upon her fellow-creatures. Nothing of the kind that I ever witnessed approached it by a hundred degrees. The high state of excitation was aided by the difficulties of obtaining entrance, and the exhausting length of time that the audience were contented to wait until the piece commenced. When the curtain fell, a large proportion of the ladies were generally in hysterics. "I remember Miss Gordon of Ghight, in particular, harrowing the house by the desperate and wild way in which she shricked out Mrs Siddons's exclamation, in the character of Isabella, 'Oh my Byron! Oh my Byron!' A well known medical gentleman, the benevolent Dr Alexander Wood, tendered his assistance; but the thick pressed audience could not for a long time make way for the doctor to approach his patient, or the patient the physician. The remarkable circumstance was, that the lady had not then seen Captain Byron, who, like Sir Toby, made her conclude with 'Ch' as she had begun with it." species of religion to which you must, or may, one day attach yourself, must exercise a strong power on the imagination.' He smiled gravely, and seemed to allow I might be right. Hours of Idleness' treated with undue severity. They were written, like all juvenile poetry, rather from the recollection of what had pleased the author in others than what had been suggested by his own imagination; but, nevertheless, I thought they con- "On politics, he used sometimes to express a high tained some passages of noble promise. I was so strain of what is now called Liberalism; but apmuch impressed with this, that I had thoughts of peared to me that the pleasure it afforded him as a writing to the author; but some exaggerated reports vehicle of displaying his wit and satire against indiconcerning his peculiarities, and a natural unwil-viduals in office was at the bottom of this habit of lingness to intrude an opinion which was uncalled for, thinking, rather than any real conviction of the induced me to relinquish the idea. political principles on which he talked. He was certainly proud of his rank and ancient family, and, in that respect, as much an aristocrat as was consistent with good sense and good breeding. Some disgusts, how adopted I know not, seemed to me to have given this peculiar and, as it appeared to me, contradictory cast of mind; but, at heart, I would "When Byron wrote his famous Satire, I had my share of flagellation among my betters. My crime was having written a poem (Marmion, I think) for a thousand pounds; which was no otherwise true than that I sold the copyright for that sum. Now, not to mention that an author can hardly be censured for accepting such a sum as the booksellers are will-have termed Byron a patrician on principle. ing to give him, especially as the gentlemen of the trade made no complaints of their bargain, I thought the interference with my private affairs was rather beyond the limits of literary satire. On the other hand, Lord Byron paid me, in several passages, so much more praise than I deserved, that I must have been more irritable than I have ever felt upon such subjects, not to sit down contented, and think no more about the matter. "I was very much struck, with all the rest of the world, at the vigour and force of imagination displayed in the first Cantos of Childe Harold, and the other splendid productions which Lord Byron flung from him to the public with a promptitude that savoured of profusion. My own popularity, as a poet was then on the wane, and I was unaffectedly pleased to see an author of so much power and energy taking the field. Mr John Murray happened to be in Scotland that season, and as I mentioned to him the pleasure I should have in making Lord Byron's acquaintance, he had the kindness to mention my wish to his lordship, which led to some correspondence. "Lord Byron's reading did not seem to me to have been very extensive either in poetry or history. Having the advantage of him in that respect, and possessing a good competent share of such reading as is little read, I was sometimes able to put under his eye objects which had for him the interest of novelty. I remember particularly repeating to him the fine poem of Hardyknute, an imitation of the old Scottish Ballad, with which he was so much affected, that some one who was in the same apartment asked me what I could possibly have been telling Byron by which he was so much agitated. "I saw Byron, for the last time, in 1815, after I returned from France. He dined, or lunched, with me at Long's, in Bond-street. I never saw him so full of gaiety and good-humour, to which the presence of Mr Matthews, the comedian, added not a little. Poor Terry was also present. After one of the gayest parties I ever was present at, my fellowtraveller, Mr Scott of Gala, and I, set off for Scot. land, and I never saw Lord Byron again. Several letters passed between us-one perhaps every half year. Like the old heroes in Homer, we exchanged gifts;-I gave Byron a beautiful dagger mounted with gold, which had been the property of the redoubted Elfi Bey. But I was to play the part of Diomed, in the Iliad, for Byron sent me, some time after, a large sepulchral vase of silver. It was full of dead men's bones, and had inscriptions on two sides of the base. One ran thus-The bones contained in this urn were found in certain ancient sepulchres within the land walls of Athens, in the month of February, 1811.' The other face bears the lines of Juvenal : 'Expende-quot libras in duce summo invenies. -Mors sola fatetur quantula hominium corpuscula.' Juv. X. "It was in the spring of 1815 that, chancing to be in London, I had the advantage of a personal introduction to Lord Byron. Report had prepared me to meet a man of peculiar habits and a quick temper, and I had some doubts whether we were likely to suit each other in society. I was most agreeably disappointed in this respect. I found Lord Byron in the highest degree courteous, and even kind. We met, for an hour or two almost daily, in Mr Murray's drawing-room, and found a great deal to say to each other. We also met frequently in parties and evening society, so that for about two months I had the advantage of considerable intimacy with this distinguished individual. Our sentiments agreed a good deal, except upon the subjects of religion and poli-words-The gift of Lord Byron to Walter Scott.'* tics, upon neither of which I was inclined to believe that Lord Byron entertained very fixed opinions. I remember saying to him, that I really thought, that if he lived a few years he would alter his sentiments. He answered, rather sharply, 'I suppose you are one of those who prophesy I will turn Methodist.' I replied, 'No-I don't expect your conversion to be of such an ordinary kind. I would rather look to see you retreat upon the Catholic faith, and distinguish The yourself by the austerity of your penances. "To these I have added a third inscription, in these * Mr Murray had, at the time of giving the vase, sug gested to Lord Byron, that it would increase the value of the gift to add some such inscription; but the feeling of the noble poet on this subject wil be understood from the following answer which he returned. "April 9th, 1815. "Thanks for the books. I have great objection to your proposition about inscribing the vase,-which is, that it would appear ostentatious on my part; and of course I must send it as it is, without any alteration. "Yours, &c." 27 There was a letter with this vase more valuable to me than the gift itself, from the kindness with which the donor expressed himself towards me. I left it naturally in the urn with the bones,-but it is now missing. As the theft was not of a nature to be practised by a mere domestic, I am compelled to suspect the inhospitality of some individual of higher station, most gratuitously exercised certainly, since, after what I have here said, no one will probably choose to boast of possessing this literary curiosity. "We had a good deal of laughing, I remember, on what the public might be supposed to think, or say, concerning the gloomy and ominous nature of our mutual gifts. "I think I can add little more to my recollections of Byron. He was often melancholy,-almost gloomy. When I observed him in this humour, I used either to wait till it went off of its own accord, or till some natural and easy mode occurred of leading him into conversation, when the shadows almost always left his countenance, like the mist rising from a landscape. In conversation, he was very animated. "I met with him very frequently in society; our mutual acquaintances doing me the honour to think that he liked to meet with me. Some very agreeable parties I can recollect, particularly one at Sir George Beaumont's, where the amiable landlord had assembled some persons distinguished for talent. Of these I need only mention the late Sir Humphry Davy, whose talents for literature were as remarkable as his empire over science. Mr Richard Sharpe and Mr Rogers were also present. "I think I also remarked in Byron's temper starts of suspicion, when he seemed to pause and consider whether there had not been a secret, and perhaps of fensive, meaning in something casually said to him. In this case, I also judged it best to let his mind, like a troubled spring, work itself clear, which it did in a minute or two. I was considerably older,, you will recollect, than my noble friend, and had no reason to fear his misconstruing my sentiments towards him, nor had I ever the slightest reason to doubt that they were kindly returned on his part. If I had occasion to be mortified by the display of genius which threw into the shade such pretensions as I was then supposed to possess, I might console myself that, in my own case, the materials of mental happiness had been mingled in a greater proportion. "I rummage my brains in vain for what often rushes into my head unbidden, -little traits and sayings which recall his looks, manner, tone, and gestures; and I have always continued to think that a crisis of life was arrived in which a new career of fame was opened to him, and that had he been permitted to start upon it, he would have obliterated the memory of such parts of his life as friends would wish to forget." "I have mentioned the facts of the settlements of Lord W.'s property, because the newspapers, with their usual accuracy, have been making all kinds of blunders in their statement. His will is just as expected-the principal part settled on Lady Milbanke (now Noel) and Bell, and a separate estate left for sale to pay debts (which are not great).and legacies to his natural son and daughter. "Mrs* *'s tragedy was last night damned. They may bring it on again, and probably will; but damned it was,-not a word of the last act audible. I went (malgré that I ought to have staid at home in sackcloth for unc., but I could not resist the first night of any thing) to a private and quiet nook of my private box, and witnessed the whole process. The first three acts, with transient gushes of applause, oozed patiently but heavily on. I must say it was badly acted, particularly by **, who was groaned upon in the third act,-something about horror-such a horror' was the cause. Well, the fourth act became as muddy and turbid as need be; but the fifth--what Garrick used to call (like a fool) the concoction of a play-the fifth act stuck fast at the King's prayer. You know he says he never went to bed without saying them, and did not like to omit them now.' But he was no sooner upon his knees, than the audience got upon their legs-the damnable pit-and roared, and groaned, and hissed, and whistled. Well, that was choked a little; but the ruffian-scene-the penitent peasantry-and killing the Bishop and the Princess-oh, was all over. The curtain fell upon unheard actors, and the announcement attempted by Kean for Monday was equally ineffectual. Mrs Bartley was so frightened, that, though the people were tolerably quiet, the Epilogue was quite inaudible to half the house. In short, you know all. I clapped till my hands were skinless, and so did Sir James Mackintosh, who was with me in the box. All the world were in the house, from the Jerseys, Greys, &c. &c., downwards. But it would not do. It is, after all, not an acting play; good language, but no power. * Women (saving Joanna Baillie) cannot write tragedy; they have not seen enough nor felt enough of life for it. I think Semiramis or Catherine II might have written (could they have been unqueened) a rare play. * * * * LETTER CCXX. TO MR MOORE. April 23d, 1815. "Lord Wentworth died last week. The bulk of his property (from seven to eight thousand per ann.) is entailed on Lady Milbanke and Lady Byron. The May 21st, 1815. "You must have thought it very odd, not to say ungrateful, that I made no mention of the drawings,* * Mr Murray had presented Lady Byron with twelve drawings, by Stothard, from Lord Byron's Poems. |