play;--and one, I can swear for, though very mild, "not fearful," and so
dead a shot, that, though the other is the thinnest of men, he would
have split him like a cane. They both conducted themselves very well,
and I put them out of _pain_ as soon as I could.

There is an American _Life_ of G. F. Cooke [7], _Scurra_ deceased,
lately published. Such a book!--I believe, since _Drunken Barnaby's
Journal_ [8] nothing like it has drenched the press. All green-room and
tap-room--drams and the drama--brandy, whisky-punch, and, _latterly_,
toddy, overflow every page. Two things are rather marvellous,--first,
that a man should live so long drunk, and, next, that he should have
found a sober biographer. There are some very laughable things in it,
nevertheless;--but the pints he swallowed, and the parts he performed,
are too regularly registered.

All this time you wonder I am not gone; so do I; but the accounts of the
plague are very perplexing--not so much for the thing itself as the
quarantine established in all ports, and from all places, even from
England. It is true, the forty or sixty days would, in all probability,
be as foolishly spent on shore as in the ship; but one likes to have
one's choice, nevertheless. Town is awfully empty; but not the worse for
that. I am really puzzled with my perfect ignorance of what I mean to
do;--not stay, if I can help it, but where to go? Sligo is for the
North;--a pleasant place, Petersburgh, in September, with one's ears and
nose in a muff, or else tumbling into one's neckcloth or
pocket-handkerchief! If the winter treated Buonaparte with so little
ceremony, what would it inflict upon your solitary traveller?--Give me a
_sun_, I care not how hot, and sherbet, I care not how cool, and _my_
Heaven is as easily made as your Persian's [9].

_The Giaour_ is now a thousand and odd lines. "Lord Fanny spins a
thousand such a day," [10] eh, Moore?--thou wilt needs be a wag, but I
forgive it. Yours ever,

BYRON.

P. S.--I perceive I have written a flippant and rather cold-hearted
letter! let it go, however. I have said nothing, either, of the
brilliant sex; but the fact is, I am at this moment in a far more
serious, and entirely new, scrape [11] than any of the last twelve
months,--and that is saying a good deal. It is unlucky we can neither
live with nor without these women.

I am now thinking of regretting that, just as I have left Newstead, you
reside near it. Did you ever see it? _do_--but don't tell me that you
like it. If I had known of such intellectual neighbourhood, I don't
think I should have quitted it. You could have come over so often, as a
bachelor,--for it was a thorough bachelor's mansion--plenty of wine and
such sordid sensualities--with books enough, room enough, and an air of
antiquity about all (except the lasses) that would have suited you, when
pensive, and served you to laugh at when in glee. I had built myself a
bath and a _vault_--and now I sha'n't even be buried in it. It is odd
that we can't even be certain of a _grave_, at least a particular one. I
remember, when about fifteen, reading your poems there, which I can
repeat almost now,--and asking all kinds of questions about the author,
when I heard that he was not dead according to the preface; wondering if
I should ever see him--and though, at that time, without the smallest
poetical propensity myself, very much taken, as you may imagine, with
that volume. Adieu--I commit you to the care of the gods--Hindoo,
Scandinavian, and Hellenic!

P.S. 2d.--There is an excellent review of Grimm's _Correspondence_ and
Madame de Stael in this No. of the _E[dinburgh] R[eview]_ [12]. Jeffrey,
himself, was my critic last year; but this is, I believe, by another
hand. I hope you are going on with your _grand coup_--pray do--or that
damned Lucien Buonaparte will beat us all. I have seen much of his poem
in MS., and he really surpasses every thing beneath Tasso. Hodgson is
translating him _against_ another bard. You and (I believe Rogers,)
Scott, Gifford, and myself, are to be referred to as judges between the
twain,--that is, if you accept the office. Conceive our different
opinions! I think we, most of us (I am talking very impudently, you will
think--_us_, indeed!) have a way of our own,--at least, you and Scott
certainly have.

[Footnote 1: The fight, in which Harry Harmer, "the Coppersmith"
(1784-1834), beat Jack Ford, took place at St. Nicholas, near Margate,
August 23, 1813.

Francis Charles Seymour Conway, Earl of Yarmouth (1777-1842), succeeded
his father as second Marquis of Hertford in 1822. The colossal
libertinism and patrician splendour of his life inspired Disraeli to
paint him as "Monmouth" in 'Coningsby', and Thackeray as "Steyne" in
'Vanity Fair'. He married, in 1798, Maria Fagniani, claimed as a
daughter by George Selwyn and by "Old Q.," and enriched by both.
Yarmouth, as an intimate friend of the Regent, and the son of the
Prince's female favourite, was the butt of Moore and the Whig satirists.
Byron gibes at Yarmouth's red whiskers, which helped to gain him the
name of "Red Herrings" in the 'Waltz', line 142, 'note' 1. Yarmouth,
like Byron, patronized the fancy, and, like him also, was a frequenter
of Manton's shooting-gallery in Davies Street; but there is no record of
their being acquainted, though the house, which Byron occupied (13,
Piccadilly Terrace) during his brief married life, was in the occupation
of Lord Yarmouth before Byron took it from the Duchess of Devonshire.]

[Footnote 2: Albert de Staël

  "led an irregular life, and met a deplorable death at Doberan, a small
  city of the duchy of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, on the coast of the Baltic
  Sea, a favourite resort in summer for bathing, gambling, etc. Some
  officers of the état-major of Bernadotte had gone to try their luck in
  this place of play and pleasure. They quarrelled over some louis, and
  a duel immediately ensued. I well remember that the Grand-Duke Paul of
  Mecklenburg-Schwerin told me he was there at the time, and, while
  walking with his tutors in the park, suddenly heard the clinking of
  swords in a neighbouring thicket. They ran to the place, and reached
  it just in time to see the head of Albert fall, cleft by one of those
  long and formidable sabres which were carried by the Prussian cavalry."

The above passage is quoted from the unpublished 'Souvenirs' of M.
Pictet de Sergy, given by A. Stevens in his 'Life of Madame de Staël',
vol. ii. pp. 204, 205.]

[Footnote 3: Only special copies of books published in Edinburgh came to
London by coach: the bulk was forwarded in Leith smacks.

In the 'Edinburgh Review' for July, 1813, the 'Giaour' was reviewed as a
poem "full of spirit, character, and originality," and producing an
effect at once "powerful and pathetic." But the reviewer considers that
"energy of character and intensity of emotion... presented in
combination with worthlessness and guilt," are "most powerful corrupters
and perverters of our moral nature," and he deplores Byron's exclusive
devotion to gloomy and revolting subjects.]

[Footnote 4: Francis Jeffrey (1773-1850) succeeded Sidney Smith as
editor of the 'Edinburgh Review' (founded 1802), and held the editorship
till 1829. The first number of the 'Review', says Francis Horner,
brought to light "the genius of that little man." During the first six
years of its existence, he wrote upwards of seventy articles. At the
same time, he was a successful lawyer. Called to the Scottish Bar in
1794, he became successively Dean of the Faculty of Advocates (1829),
Lord Advocate (1830), and a Judge of the Court of Sessions (1834) with
the title of Lord Jeffrey. He married, as his second wife, at New York,
in October, 1813, Charlotte Wilkes, a grandniece of John Wilkes.

Jeffrey is described at considerable length by Ticknor, in a letter,
dated February 8, 1814 ('Life of G. Ticknor', vol. i. pp. 43-47):

  "You are to imagine, then, before you a short, stout, little
  gentleman, about five and a half feet high, with a very red face,
  black hair, and black eyes. You are to suppose him to possess a very
  gay and animated countenance, and you are to see in him all the
  restlessness of a will-o'-wisp ... He enters a room with a countenance
  so satisfied, and a step so light and almost fantastic, that all your
  previous impressions of the dignity and severity of the 'Edinburgh
  Review' are immediately put to flight ... It is not possible, however,
  to be long in his presence without understanding something of his real
  character, for the same promptness and assurance which mark his
  entrance into a room carry him at once into conversation. The moment a
  topic is suggested--no matter what or by whom--he comes forth, and the
  first thing you observe is his singular fluency," etc., etc.

By the side of this description may be set that given of Jeffrey by
Francis Horner ('Life of Jeffrey', 2nd edition, vol. i. p. 212):

  "His manner is not at first pleasing; what is worse, it is of that
  cast which almost irresistibly impresses upon strangers the idea of
  levity and superficial talents. Yet there is not any man whose real
  character is so much the reverse."

The secret of his success, both as editor and critic, is that he made
the 'Review' the expression of the Whig character, both in its
excellences and its limitations. A man of clear, discriminating mind, of
cool and placid judgment, he refused to accept the existing state of
things, was persuaded that it might be safely improved, saw the
practical steps required, and had the courage of his convictions. He was
suspicious of large principles, somewhat callous to enthusiasm or
sentiment, intolerant of whatever was incapable of precise expression.
His intellectual strength lay not in the possession of one great gift,
but in the simultaneous exercise of several well-adjusted talents. His
literary taste was correct; but it consisted rather in recognizing
compliance with accepted rules of proved utility than  in the readiness
to appreciate novelties of thought and treatment. Hence his criticism,
though useful for his time, has not endured beyond his day. It may be
doubted whether more could be expected from a man who was eminently
successful in addressing a jury. "He might not know his subject, but he
knew his readers" (Bagehot's 'Literary Studies', vol. i. p. 30).

Byron, believing him to have been the author of the famous article on
'Hours of Idleness', attacked him bitterly in 'English Bards, and Scotch
Reviewers'; (lines 460-528). He afterwards recognized his error. 'Don
Juan' (Canto X. stanza xvi.) expresses his mature opinion of a critic
who, whatever may have been his faults, was as absolutely honest as
political prejudice would permit:

  "And all our little feuds, at least all 'mine',
  Dear Jeffrey, once my most redoubted foe
  (As far as rhyme and criticism combine
  To make such puppets of us things below),
  Are over; Here's a health to 'Auld Lang Syne!'
  I do not know you, and may never know
  Your face--but you have acted, on the whole,
  Most nobly; and I own it from my soul."

Jeffrey reviewed 'Childe Harold' in the 'Edinburgh Review', No. 38, art.
10; the 'Giaour', No. 42, art. 2; the 'Corsair' and 'Bride of Abydos',
No. 45, art. 9; Byron's 'Poetry', No. 54, art. I; 'Manfred', No. 56,
art. 7; 'Beppo', No. 58, art. 2; 'Marino Faliero', No. 70, art. I;
Byron's 'Tragedies', No. 72, art. 5.]

[Footnote 5: Winifred Jenkins is the maid to Miss Tabitha Bramble, who
marries Captain Lismahago, in Smollett's 'Humphrey Clinker'.]

[Footnote 6: Lord Foley and Scrope Davies.]

[Footnote 7: G. F. Cooke (1755-1812), from 1794 to 1800 was the hero of
the Dublin stage, with the exception of an interval, during which he
served in the army. On October 31, 1800, he appeared at Covent Garden as
"Richard III.," and afterwards played such parts in tragedy as "Iago"
and "Shylock" with great success. In comedy he was also a favourite,
especially as "Kitely" in 'Every Man in his Humour', and "Sir Pertinax
MacSycophant" in 'The Man of the World'. His last appearance on the
London stage was as "Falstaff," June 5, 1810. In that year he sailed for
New York, and, September 26, 1812, died there from his "incorrigible
habits of drinking."

Byron uses the word 'scurra', which generally means a "parasite," in its
other sense of a "buffoon." 'Memoirs of George Frederic Cooke, late of
the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden', by W. Dunlap, in 2 vols., was
published in 1813]

[Footnote 8: The original edition of 'Drunken Barnaby's Journal', a
small square volume, without date, was probably printed about 1650. The
author was supposed to be Barnaby Harrington of Queen's College, Oxford.
But Joseph Haslewood, whose edition (1818) is the best, attributed it to
Richard Brathwait (circ. 1588-1673). The title of the second edition
(1716) runs as follows: 'Drunken Barnaby's Four Journeys to the North of
England. In Latin and English Verse. Wittily and merrily (tho' near one
hundred years ago) composed; found among some old musty books, that had
a long time lain by in a corner; and now at last made publick. To which
is added, Bessy Bell'.

"Drunken Barnaby" was also the burden of an old ballad quoted by
Haslewood:

  "Barnaby, Barnaby, thou'st been drinking,
  I can tell by thy nose, and thy eyes winking;
  Drunk at Richmond, drunk at Dover,
  Drunk at Newcastle, drunk all over.
  Hey, Barnaby! tak't for a warning,
  Be no more drunk, nor dry in a morning!"]

[Footnote 9:

   "A Persian's Heav'n is easily made--
  'Tis but black eyes and lemonade."]

[Footnote 10: Pope's 'Imitations of Horace', Satire I. line 6.]

[Footnote 11: With Lady Frances Wedderburn Webster.]

[Footnote 12: The review of Madame de Staël's 'Germany' was by
Mackintosh.]

323.--To John Murray.

August 26, 1813.

Dear Sir,--I have looked over and corrected one proof, but not so
carefully (God knows if you can read it through, but I can't) as to
preclude your eye from discovering some _o_mission of mine or
_com_mission of y'e Printer. If you have patience, look it over. Do you
know any body who can _stop_--I mean _point_-commas, and so forth? for I
am, I hear, a sad hand at your punctuation. I have, but with some
difficulty, _not_ added any more to this snake of a poem, which has been
lengthening its rattles every month. It is now fearfully long, being
more than a canto and a half of _C. H_., which contains but 882 lines
per book, with all late additions inclusive.

The last lines Hodgson likes--it is not often he does--and when he
don't, he tells me with great energy, and I fret and alter. I have
thrown them in to soften the ferocity of our Infidel, and, for a dying
man, have given him a good deal to say for himself.

Do you think you shall get hold of the _female_ MS. you spoke of to day?
if so, you will let me have a glimpse; but don't tell our _master_ (not
W's), or we shall be buffeted.

I was quite sorry to hear you say you stayed in town on my account, and
I hope sincerely you did not mean so superfluous a piece of politeness.

Our _six_ critiques!--they would have made half a _Quarterly_ by
themselves; but this is the age of criticism.

Ever yours,

B.

324.--To Thomas Moore.

August 28, 1813.

Ay, my dear Moore, "there _was_ a time"--I have heard of your tricks,
when "you was campaigning at the King of Bohemy." [1]

I am much mistaken if, some fine London spring, about the year 1815,
that time does not come again. After all, we must end in marriage; and I
can conceive nothing more delightful than such a state in the country,
reading the county newspaper, etc., and kissing one's wife's maid.
Seriously, I would incorporate with any woman of decent demeanour
to-morrow--that is, I would a month ago, but, at present,----

Why don't you "parody that Ode?"--Do you think [2] I should be _tetchy?_
or have you done it, and won't tell me?--You are quite right about
Giamschid, and I have reduced it to a dissyllable within this half hour
[3].

I am glad to hear you talk of Richardson [4], because it tells me what
you won't--that you are going to beat Lucien. At least tell me how far
you have proceeded. Do you think me less interested about your works, or
less sincere than our friend Ruggiero? I am not--and never was. In that
thing of mine, the _English Bards_, at the time when I was angry with
all the world, I never "disparaged your parts," although I did not know
you personally;--and have always regretted that you don't give us an
_entire_ work, and not sprinkle yourself in detached pieces--beautiful,
I allow, and quite _alone_ in our language, but still giving us a right
to expect a _Shah Nameh_ [5] (is that the name?) as well as gazelles.
Stick to the East;--the oracle, Staël, told me it was the only poetical
policy. The North, South, and West, have all been exhausted; but from
the East, we have nothing but Southey's unsaleables,--and these he has
contrived to spoil, by adopting only their most outrageous fictions. His
personages don't interest us, and yours will. You will have no
competitor; and, if you had, you ought to be glad of it. The little I
have done in that way is merely a "voice in the wilderness" for you; and
if it has had any success, that also will prove that the public are
orientalising, and pave the path for you.

I have been thinking of a story, grafted on the amours of a Peri and a
mortal--something like, only more _philanthropical_ than, Cazotte's
_Diable Amoureux_ [6].

It would require a good deal of poesy, and tenderness is not my forte.
For that, and other reasons, I have given up the idea, and merely
suggest it to you, because, in intervals of your greater work, I think
it a subject you might make much of [7].

If you want any more books, there is "Castellan's _Moeurs des
Ottomans_," the best compendium of the kind I ever met with, in six
small tomes [8].

I am really taking a liberty by talking in this style to my "elders and
my betters;"--pardon it, and don't _Rochefoucault_ [9] my motives.

[Footnote 1: Jerry Sneak, in Foote's 'Mayor of Garratt' (act ii.), says
to Major Sturgeon, "I heard of your tricks at the King of Bohemy."]

[Footnote 2:

  "The Ode of Horace--

    'Natis in usum lætitiæ,' etc.;

  some passages of which I told him might be parodied, in allusion to
  some of his late adventures:

    'Quanta laboras in Charybdi!
    Digne puer meliore flammâ!'"

(Moore.)]

[Footnote 3:

  "In his first edition of 'The Giaour' he had used this word as a
  trisyllable--'Bright as the gem of Giamschid'--but on my remarking to
  him, upon the authority of Richardson's Persian Dictionary, that this
  was incorrect, he altered it to 'Bright as the ruby of Giamschid.' On
  seeing this, however, I wrote to him, 'that, as the comparison of his
  heroine's eye to a "ruby" might unluckily call up the idea of its
  being bloodshot, he had better change the line to "Bright as the jewel
  of Giamschid;"' which he accordingly did in the following edition"
  (Moore).

In the 'Sháh Námeh', Giamschid is the fourth sovereign of the ancient
Persians, and ruled seven hundred years. His jewel was a green
chrysolite, the reflection of which gives to the sky its blue-green
colour. Byron probably changed to "ruby" on the authority of 'Vathek'
(p. 58, ed. 1856), where Beckford writes,

  "Then all the riches this place contains, as well as the carbuncle of
  Giamschid, shall be hers."]

[Footnote 4: Moore's reference (see 'note' 1) to John Richardson's
'Dictionary of Persian, Arabic, and English' (1777), suggests to Byron
that Moore was at work on an Oriental poem, probably 'Lalla Rookh',
which would surpass the 'Charlemagne' of Lucien Buonaparte.]

[Footnote 5: The 'Sháh Námeh' is a rhymed history of Persia, in which
occurs the famous episode of Sohrab and Rustem. It was written in thirty
years by Abul Kásim Firdausí, the last name being given to him by Sultan
Mahmúd because he had shed over the court at Ghizni the delights of
"Paradise." Firdausí is said to have lived about 950 to 1030. (See The
'Sháh Námeh', translated and abridged by James Atkinson.)]

[Footnote 6: Jacques Cazotte (1720-1792) wrote 'La Patte du Chat'
(1741); 'Mille et une Fadaises' (1742); 'Observations sur la lettre de
Rousseau au sujet de la Musique Française' (1754); and other works. 'Le
Diable Amoureux' appeared in 1772. Cazotte escaped the September
Massacres at the Abbaye in 1792, through the heroism of his daughter,
but was executed on the twenty-fifth of the same month.]

[Footnote 7:

  "I had already, singularly enough, anticipated this suggestion, by
  making the daughter of a Peri the heroine of one of my stories, and
  detailing the love adventures of her aërial parent in an episode. In
  acquainting Lord Byron with this circumstance, in my answer to the
  above letter, I added, 'All I ask of your friendship is--not that you
  will abstain from Peris on my account, for that is too much to ask of
  human (or, at least, author's) nature--but that, whenever you mean to
  pay your addresses to any of these aërial ladies, you will, at once,
  tell me so, frankly and instantly, and let me, at least, have my
  choice whether I shall be desperate enough to go on, with such a
  rival, or at once surrender the whole race into your hands, and take,
  for the future, to Antediluvians with Mr. Montgomery'"

(Moore).]

[Footnote 8: Brunet, 's.v.' "Breton de la Martinière," gives the title
of the work: 'Moeurs, usages costumes des Othomans, et abrégé de leur
histoire'. Par A.L. Castellan, Paris, 1812.]

[Footnote 9: Maxime LXXXV.:

  "Nous nous persuadons souvent d'aimer les gens plus puissans que nous,
  et néanmoins c'est l'interêt seul qui produit notre amitié; nous ne
  nous donnons pas à eux pour le bien que nous leur voulons faire, mais
  pour celui que nous en voulons recevoir."]

325.--To Thomas Moore.

August--September, I mean--1, 1813.

I send you, begging your acceptance, Castellan, and three vols. on
Turkish literature [1], not yet looked into. The _last_ I will thank you
to read, extract what you want, and return in a week, as they are lent
to me by that brightest of Northern constellations, Mackintosh
[2],--amongst many other kind things into which India has warmed him;
for I am sure your _home_ Scotsman is of a less genial description.

Your Peri, my dear M., is sacred and inviolable; I have no idea of
touching the hem of her petticoat. Your affectation of a dislike to
encounter me is so flattering, that I begin to think myself a very fine
fellow. But you are laughing at me--"Stap my vitals, Tam! thou art a
very impudent person;" [3] and, if you are not laughing at me, you
deserve to be laughed at. Seriously, what on earth can you, or have you,
to dread from any poetical flesh breathing? It really puts me out of
humour to hear you talk thus.

_The Giaour_ I have added to a good deal; but still in foolish
fragments. It contains about 1200 lines, or rather more--now printing.
You will allow me to send you a copy. You delight me much by telling me
that I am in your good graces, and more particularly as to temper; for,
unluckily, I have the reputation of a very bad one. But they say the
devil is amusing when pleased, and I must have been more venomous than
the old serpent, to have hissed or stung in your company. It may be, and
would appear to a third person, an incredible thing, but I know _you_
will believe me when I say, that I am as anxious for your success as one
human being can be for another's,--as much as if I had never scribbled a
line. Surely the field of fame is wide enough for all; and if it were
not, I would not willingly rob my neighbour of a rood of it. Now you
have a pretty property of some thousand acres there, and when you have
passed your present Inclosure Bill, your income will be doubled,
(there's a metaphor, worthy of a Templar, namely, pert and low,) while
my wild common is too remote to incommode you, and quite incapable of
such fertility. I send you (which return per post, as the printer would
say) a curious letter from a friend of mine [4], which will let you into
the origin of _The Giaour_. Write soon.

Ever, dear Moore, yours most entirely, etc.

P.S.--This letter was written to me on account of a _different story_
circulated by some gentlewomen of our acquaintance, a little too close
to the text. The part erased contained merely some Turkish names, and
circumstantial evidence of the girl's detection, not very important or
decorous.

[Footnote 1: Giovanni Battista Toderini (1728-1799) published his work
'Della Letteratura Turchesca', at Venice in 1787. Brunet says, "Cet
ouvrage curieux a été traduit en Français, par Cournand. Paris, 1789
('De La Littérature des Turcs')."]

[Footnote 2:

  "Yes, his manner was cold; his shake of the hand came under the genus
  'mortmain;' but his heart was overflowing with benevolence"

(Lady Holland's 'Memoir of Sydney Smith', 4th edition, vol. i. p. 440).]

[Footnote 3: A reminiscence of Sheridan's 'Trip to Scarborough' (act v.
sc. 2), itself borrowed from Vanbrugh's 'Relapse' (act iv. sc. 6), in
both of which passages Lord Foppington says, "Strike me dumb, Tam, thou
art a very impudent fellow."]

[Footnote 4: The following is the letter to which Byron refers:

  Albany, Monday, August 31, 1813.

  "MY DEAR BYRON,--You have requested me to tell you all that I heard at
  Athens about the affair of that girl who was so near being put an end
  to while you were there; you have asked me to remember every
  circumstance, in the remotest degree relating to it, which I heard. In
  compliance with your wishes, I write to you all I heard, and I cannot
  imagine it to be very far from the fact, as the circumstances happened
  only a day or two before I arrived at Athens, and, consequently, was a
  matter of common conversation at the time.

  "The new governor, unaccustomed to have the same intercourse with the
  Christians as his predecessor, had, of course, the barbarous Turkish
  ideas with regard to women. In consequence, and in compliance with the
  strict letter of the Mohammedan law, he ordered this girl to be sewed
  up in a sack, and thrown into the sea--as is, indeed, quite customary
  at Constantinople. As you were returning from bathing in the Piræus,
  you met the procession going down to execute the sentence of the
  Waywode on this unhappy girl. Report continues to say, that on finding
  out what the object of their journey was, and who was the miserable
  sufferer, you immediately interfered; and on some delay in obeying
  your orders, you were obliged to inform the leader of the escort that
  force should make him comply; that, on further hesitation, you drew a
  pistol, and told him, that if he did not immediately obey your orders,
  and come back with you to the Aga's house, you would shoot him dead.
  On this the man turned about and went with you to the governor's
  house; here you succeeded, partly by personal threats, and partly by
  bribery and entreaty, in procuring her pardon, on condition of her
  leaving Athens. I was told that you then conveyed her in safety to the
  convent, and despatched her off at night to Thebes, where she found a
  safe asylum. Such is the story I heard, as nearly as I can recollect
  it at present. Should you wish to ask me any further questions about
  it, I shall be very ready and willing to answer them.

  "I remain, my dear Byron,

  "Yours very sincerely,

  "Sligo".]

326.--To James Wedderburn Webster.

September 2nd, 1813.

My dear Webster,--You are just the same generous and I fear careless
gentleman of the years of _indifferent_ memory 1806. I--; but I must not
burthen you with my entire household. Joe [1] is, I believe, necessary
for the present as a fixture, to keep possession till every thing is
arranged; and were it otherwise, you don't know what a perplexity he
would prove--honest and faithful, but fearfully superannuated: now
_this_ I ought and do bear, but as he has not been fifty years in your
family, it would be rather hard to convert your mansion into a hospital
for decayed domestics. Rushton is, or may be made useful, and I am less
_compunctious_ on his account.

"Will I be Godfather?" [2]

Yea, verily! I believe it is the only species of parentage I shall ever
encounter, for all my acquaintance, Powerscourt, Jocelyn, yourself,
Delawarr, Stanhope, with a long list of happy _etceteras_, are married;
most of them my juniors too, and I as single and likely to remain so as,
nay more than, if I were seventy.

If it is a _girl_ why not also? Georgina, or even _Byron_ will make a
classical name for a spinster, if Mr. Richardson's _Sir Charles
Grandison_ is any authority in your estimation.

My ship is not settled. My passage in the _Boyne_ was only for _one_
Servant, and would not do, of course. You ask after the expense, a
question no less interesting to the married than the single. Unless
things are much altered, no establishment in the Mediterranean Countries
could amount to the quarter of the expenditure requisite in England for
the same or an inferior household.

I am interrupted, and have only time to offer my best thanks for all
your good wishes and intentions, and to beg you will believe me,

Equally yours ever,

B.

P.S.--Rushton shall be sent on Saturday next.

[Footnote 1: Joseph Murray]

[Footnote 2: Webster's eldest son was christened "Byron Wedderburn." He
died young, and when his father told Byron of the child's death, the
godfather

  "almost chuckled with joy or irony," and said, "Well, I cautioned you,
  and told you that my name would almost damn any thing or creature."

(MS. note by Wedderburn Webster.)]

327.--To Thomas Moore.

Sept. 5, 1813.

You need not tie yourself down to a day with Toderini, but send him at
your leisure, having anatomised him into such annotations as you want; I
do not believe that he has ever undergone that process before, which is
the best reason for not sparing him now.

Rogers has returned to town, but not yet recovered of the 'Quarterly'.
What fellows these reviewers are! "these bugs do fear us all." [1]

They made you fight, and me (the milkiest of men) a satirist, and will
end by making Rogers madder than Ajax. I have been reading 'Memory'
again, the other day, and _Hope_ together, and retain all my preference
of the former [2].

His elegance is really wonderful--there is no such thing as a vulgar
line in his book.

What say you to Buonaparte? Remember, I back him against the field,
barring catalepsy and the Elements. Nay, I almost wish him success
against all countries but this,--were it only to choke the 'Morning
Post', and his undutiful father-in-law, with that rebellious bastard of
Scandinavian adoption, Bernadotte. Rogers wants me to go with him on a
crusade to the Lakes, and to besiege you on our way. This last is a
great temptation, but I fear it will not be in my power, unless you
would go on with one of us somewhere--no matter where. It is too late
for Matlock, but we might hit upon some scheme, high life or low,--the
last would be much the best for amusement. I am so sick of the other,
that I quite sigh for a cider-cellar [3], or a cruise in a smuggler's
sloop.

You cannot wish more than I do that the Fates were a little more
accommodating to our parallel lines, which prolong _ad infinitum_
without coming a jot nearer. I almost wish I were married, too--which is
saying much. All my friends, seniors and juniors, are in for it, and ask
me to be godfather,--the only species of parentage which, I believe,
will ever come to my share in a lawful way; and, in an unlawful one, by
the blessing of Lucina, we can never be certain,--though the parish may.
I suppose I shall hear from you to-morrow. If not, this goes as it is;
but I leave room for a P.S., in case any thing requires an answer.

Ever, etc.

No letter--_n'importe_. Rogers thinks the _Quarterly_ will be at _me_
this time; if so, it shall be a war of extermination--no _quarter_. From
the youngest devil down to the oldest woman of that review, all shall
perish by one fatal lampoon. The ties of nature shall be torn asunder,
for I will not even spare my bookseller; nay, if one were to include
readers also, all the better.

[Footnote 1: "Warwick was a bug that feared us all" ('Henry VI'., Part
III. act v. se. 2).]

[Footnote 2: Byron quoted to Lady Blessington "some passages from the
'Pleasures of Hope', which he said was a poem full of beauties... 'The
'Pleasures of Memory' is a very beautiful poem' (said Byron),
'harmonious, finished, and chaste; it contains not a single meretricious
ornament'" ('Conversations', pp. 352, 353).]

[Footnote 3: No. 20, Maiden Lane, Covent Garden, was a tavern called the
'Cider Cellars'. Over the entrance was the motto, 'Honos erit huic
quoque homo', supplied by Porson, who frequented the house. There Lord
Campbell heard him "recite from memory to delighted listeners the whole
of Anstey's 'Pleader's Guide'" ('Lives of the Chief Justices', vol. iii.
p. 271, note). Mr. Wheatley, in 'London Past and Present, sub voce'
"Maiden Lane," says that the

  "tavern continued to be frequented by young men, and 'much in vogue
  for devilled kidneys, oysters, and Welch rabbits, cigars, "goes" of
  brandy, and great supplies of London stout' (also for comic songs),
  till it was absorbed in the extensions of the Adelphi Theatre."]

328.--To Thomas Moore.

September 8, 1813.

I am sorry to see Toderini again so soon, for fear your scrupulous
conscience should have prevented you from fully availing yourself of his
spoils. By this coach I send you a copy of that awful pamphlet _The
Giaour_, which has never procured me half so high a compliment as your
modest alarm. You will (if inclined in an evening) perceive that I have
added much in quantity,--a circumstance which may truly diminish your
modesty upon the subject.

You stand certainly in great need of a "lift" with Mackintosh. My dear
Moore, you strangely under-rate yourself. I should conceive it an
affectation in any other; but I think I know you well enough to believe
that you don't know your own value. However, 'tis a fault that generally
mends; and, in your case, it really ought. I have heard him speak of you
as highly as your wife could wish; and enough to give all your friends
the jaundice.

Yesterday I had a letter from _Ali Pacha!_ brought by Dr. Holland, who
is just returned from Albania [1]. It is in Latin, and begins
"Excellentissime _nec non_ Carissime," and ends about a gun he wants
made for him;--it is signed "Ali Vizir." What do you think he has been
about? H. tells me that, last spring, he took a hostile town, where,
forty-two years ago, his mother and sisters were treated as Miss
Cunigunde [2] was by the Bulgarian cavalry. He takes the town, selects
all the survivors of this exploit--children, grandchildren, etc. to the
tune of six hundred, and has them shot before his face. Recollect, he
spared the rest of the city, and confined himself to the Tarquin
pedigree [3],--which is more than I would. So much for "dearest friend."

[Footnote 1: See 'Letters', vol. i. p. 246 [Letter 131], and 'note'
[Footnote 1 of Letter 131]. Dr., afterwards Sir Henry, Holland
(1788-1873) published his 'Travels in the Ionian Islands, Albania,
etc.', in 1815.]

[Footnote: Voltaire's 'Candide', ch. vii.:

  "On ne vous a done pas violé? on ne vous a point fendu le ventre,
  comme le philosophe Pangloss me l'avait assuré? Si fait, dit la belle
  Cunégonde; mais on ne meurt pas toujours de ces deux accidents."]

[Footnote 3: The "false Sextus... that wrought the deed of shame," and
violated Lucretia.]

329.--To Thomas Moore.

Sept. 9, 1813.

I write to you from Mr. Murray's, and I may say, from Murray, who, if
you are not predisposed in favour of any other publisher, would be happy
to treat with you, at a fitting time, for your work. I can safely
recommend him as fair, liberal, and attentive, and certainly, in point
of reputation, he stands among the first of "the trade." I am sure he
would do you justice. I have written to you so much lately, that you
will be glad to see so little now.

Ever, etc., etc.

330.--To James Wedderburn Webster.

September 15th, 1813.

My dear Webster,--I shall not resist your second invitation, and shortly
after the receipt of this you may expect me. You will excuse me from the
races. As a guest I have no "antipathies" and few preferences.... You
won't mind, however, my _not_ dining with you--every day at least. When
we meet, we can talk over our respective plans: mine is very short and
simple; viz. to sail when I can get a passage. If I remained in England
I should live in the Country, and of course in the vicinity of those
whom I knew would be most agreeable.

I did not know that Jack's graven image [1] was at Newstead. If it be,
pray transfer it to Aston. It is my hope to see you so shortly, tomorrow
or next day, that I will not now trouble you with my speculations.

Ever yours very faithfully,

BYRON.

P.S.--I don't know how I came to sign myself with the "i." It is the old
spelling, and I sometimes slip into it. When I say I can't _dine_ with
you, I mean that sometimes I don't dine at all. Of course, when I do, I
conform to all hours and domestic arrangements.

[Footnote 1: "Jack's graven image" means the portrait of John Jackson
the pugilist.]

331.--To the Hon. Augusta Leigh.

[Wednesday], Sept'r. 15th, 1813.

My dear Augusta,--I joined my friend Scrope about 8, and before eleven
we had swallowed six bottles of his burgundy and Claret, which left him
very unwell and me rather feverish; we were 'tête à tête'. I remained
with him next day and set off last night for London, which I reached at
three in the morning. Tonight I shall leave it again, perhaps for Aston
or Newstead. I have not yet determined, nor does it much matter. As you
perhaps care more on the subject than I do, I will tell you when I know
myself.

When my departure is arranged, and I can get this long-evaded passage,
you will be able to tell me whether I am to expect a visit or not, and I
can come for or meet you as you think best. If you write, address to
Bennet Street.

Yours very truly,

B.

332.--To John Murray.

Sept. 15, 1813.

Dear Sir,--Will you pray enquire after any ship with a convoy _taking
passengers_ and get me one if possible? I mean not in a ship of war, but
anything that may be _paid_ for. I have a friend and 3 servants
--Gibraltar or Minorca--or Zante.

Yours ever,

B.

333.--To James Wedderburn Webster.

Stilton, September 25th, 1813.

My Dear W.,--Thus far can I "report progress," and as a solid token of
my remembrance I send you a 'cheese' of 13 lbs. to enable your digestion
to go through the race week. It will go to night; pray let your
retainers enquire after it. The date of this letter will account for so
homely a present. On my arrival in town I will write more on our
different concerns. In the mean time I wish you and yours all the
gratification on Doncaster you can wish for yourselves. My love to the
faithless Nettle [1] (who I dare say is 'wronging' me during my
absence), and my best Compliments to all in your house who will receive
them.

Ever, dear W., yours truly,

B.

[Footnote 1: A dog given by Webster to Byron. (Note by J. W. W.)]

334.--To Sir James Mackintosh.

Sept. 27, 1813.

Dear Sir James,--I was to have left London on Friday, but will certainly
remain a day longer (and believe I _would a year_) to have the
honour of meeting you. My best respects to Lady Mackintosh.

Ever your obliged and faithful servant,

BYRON.

335.--To Thomas Moore.

September 27, 1813.

Thomas Moore,--(Thou wilt never be called "_true_ Thomas," [1] like he
of Ercildoune,) why don't you write to me?--as you won't, I must. I was
near you at Aston the other day, and hope I soon shall be again. If so,
you must and shall meet me, and go to Matlock and elsewhere, and take
what, in _flash_ dialect, is poetically termed "a lark," with Rogers and
me for accomplices. Yesterday, at Holland House, I was introduced to
Southey--the best-looking bard I have seen for some time. To have that
poet's head and shoulders, I would almost have written his Sapphics. He
is certainly a prepossessing person to look on, and a man of talent, and
all that, and--_there_ is his eulogy.

----read me _part_ of a letter from you. By the foot of Pharaoh, I
believe there was abuse, for he stopped short, so he did, after a fine
saying about our correspondence, and _looked_--I wish I could revenge
myself by attacking you, or by telling you that I have _had_ to defend
you--an agreeable way which one's friends have of recommending
themselves by saying--"Ay, ay, _I_ gave it Mr. Such-a-one for what he
said about your being a plagiary, and a rake, and so on." But do you
know that you are one of the very few whom I never have the satisfaction
of hearing abused, but the reverse;--and do you suppose I will forgive
_that_?

I have been in the country, and ran away from the Doncaster races. It is
odd,--I was a visitor in the same house [2] which came to my sire as a
residence with Lady Carmarthen (with whom he adulterated before his
majority--by the by, remember _she_ was not my mamma),--and they thrust
me into an old room, with a nauseous picture over the chimney, which I
should suppose my papa regarded with due respect, and which, inheriting
the family taste, I looked upon with great satisfaction. I stayed a week
with the family, and behaved very well--though the lady of the house is
young, and religious, and pretty, and the master is my particular
friend. I felt no wish for any thing but a poodle dog, which they kindly
gave me. Now, for a man of my courses not even to have _coveted_, is a
sign of great amendment. Pray pardon all this nonsense, and don't "snub
me when I'm in spirits." [3]

Ever yours,

BN.

Here's an impromptu for you by a "person of quality," written last week,
on being reproached for low spirits:

  When from the heart where Sorrow sits,
    Her dusky shadow mounts too high,
  And o'er the changing aspect flits,
    And clouds the brow, or fills the eye:
  Heed not that gloom, which soon shall sink;
    My Thoughts their dungeon know too well--
  Back to my breast the wanderers shrink,
    And bleed within their silent cell.

[Footnote 1: Thomas Learmont, of Ercildoune, called "Thomas the
Rhymer," is to reappear on earth when Shrove Tuesday and Good Friday
change places. He sleeps beneath the Eildon Hills.]

[Footnote 2: Aston Hall, Rotherham, at that time rented by J. Wedderburn
Webster.]

[Footnote 3: In 'She Stoops to Conquer' (act ii.) Tony Lumpkin says,

  "I wish you'd let me and my good alone, then--snubbing this way when
  I'm in spirits."]

336.--To John Murray.

Sept. 29, 1813.

Dear Sir,--Pray suspend the _proofs_ for I am bitten again and have
quantities for other parts of _The Giaour_.

Yours ever,

B.

P. S.--You shall have these in the course of the day.

337.--To James Wedderburn Webster.

September 30th, 1813.

My dear Webster,--Thanks for your letter. I had answered it by
_anticipation_ last night, and this is but a postscript to my reply. My
yesterday's contained some advice, which I now see you don't want, and
hope you never will.

So! Petersham [1] has not joined you. I pity the poor women. No one can
properly repair such a deficiency; but rather than such a chasm should
be left utterly unfathomable, I, even I, the most awkward of attendants
and deplorable of danglers, would have been of your forlorn hope, on
this expedition. Nothing but business, and the notion of my being
utterly superfluous in so numerous a party, would have induced me to
resign so soon my quiet apartments never interrupted but by the sound,
or the more harmonious barking of Nettle, and clashing of billiard
balls.

On Sunday I shall leave town and mean to join you immediately. I have
not yet had my sister's answer to Lady Frances's very kind invitation,
but expect it tomorrow. Pray assure Lady Frances that I never can forget
the obligation conferred upon me in this respect, and I trust that even
Lady Catherine [2] will, in this instance, not question my "stability."

I yesterday wrote you rather a long tirade about La Comptesse, but you
seem in no immediate peril; I will therefore burn it. Yet I don't know
why I should, as you may relapse: it shall e'en go.

I have been passing my time with Rogers and Sir James Mackintosh; and
once at Holland House I met Southey; he is a person of very _epic_
appearance, and has a fine head--as far as the outside goes, and wants
nothing but taste to make the inside equally attractive.

Ever, my dear W., yours,

Biron.

P.S.--I read your letter thus: "the Countess is _miserable_" instead of
which it is "_inexorable_" a very different thing. The best way is to
let her alone; she must be a _diablesse_ by what you told me. You have
probably not _bid_ high enough. _Now_ you are not, perhaps, of my
opinion; but I would not give the tithe of a Birmingham farthing for a
woman who could or would be purchased, nor indeed for any woman _quoad
mere woman_; that is to say, unless I loved her for something more than
her sex. If she _loves_, a little _pique_ is not amiss, nor even if she
don't; the next thing to a woman's _love_ in a man's favour is her
_hatred_,--a seeming paradox but true. Get them once out of
_indifference_ and circumstance, and their passions will do wonders for
a _dasher_ which I suppose you are, though I seldom had the impudence or
patience to follow them up.

[Footnote 1: Lord Petersham was one of the chief dandies of the day.
Gronow in 1814 ('Reminiscences', vol. i. p. 285) found him

  "making a particular sort of blacking, which he said would eventually
  supersede every other."

His snuff-mixture was famous among tobacconists, and he gave his name to
a fashionable great-coat. In his collection of snuff-boxes, one of the
finest in England, he was supposed to have a box for every day in the
year. Gronow ('ibid'.)

  "heard him, on the occasion of a delightful old light-blue Sèvres box
  he was using being admired, say, in his lisping way, 'Yes, it is a
  nice summer box, but would not do for winter wear.'"

Lord Petersham, who never went out of doors before 6 p.m., was
celebrated for his brown carriages, brown horses, brown harness, and
brown liveries.]

[Footnote 2: Lady Catherine Annesley, sister of Lady F. W. Webster,
afterwards Lady John Somerset.]

338.--To Francis Hodgson.

October 1, 1813.

My Dear H.,--I leave town again for Aston on Sunday, but have messages
for you. Lord Holland desired me repeatedly to bring you; he wants to
know you much, and begged me to say so: you will like him. I had an
invitation for you to dinner there this last Sunday, and Rogers is
perpetually screaming because you don't call, and wanted you also to
dine with him on Wednesday last. Yesterday we had Curran there--who is
beyond all conception! and Mackintosh and the wits are to be seen at H.
H. constantly, so that I think you would like their society. I will be a
judge between you and the attorneo. So B[utler] may mention me to Lucien
if he still adheres to his opinion. Pray let Rogers be one; he has the
best taste extant. Bland's nuptials delight me; if I had the least hand
in bringing them about it will be a subject of selfish satisfaction to
me these three weeks. Desire Drury--if he loves me--to kick Dwyer thrice
for frightening my horses with his flame-coloured whiskers last July.
Let the kicks be hard, etc.

339.--To Thomas Moore.

October 2, 1813.

You have not answered some six letters of mine. This, therefore, is my
penultimate. I will write to you once more, but, after that--I swear by
all the saints--I am silent and supercilious. I have met Curran [1] at
Holland House--he beats every body;--his imagination is beyond human,
and his humour (it is difficult to define what is wit) perfect. Then he
has fifty faces, and twice as many voices, when he mimics--I never met
his equal. Now, were I a woman, and eke a virgin, that is the man I
should make my Scamander [2].

He is quite fascinating. Remember, I have met him but once; and you, who
have known him long, may probably deduct from my panegyric. I almost
fear to meet him again, lest the impression should be lowered. He talked
a great deal about you--a theme never tiresome to me, nor any body else
that I know. What a variety of expression he conjures into that
naturally not very fine countenance of his! He absolutely changes it
entirely. I have done--for I can't describe him, and you know him. On
Sunday I return to Aston, where I shall not be far from you. Perhaps I
shall hear from you in the mean time. Good night.

Saturday morn.--Your letter has cancelled all my anxieties. I did _not
suspect_ you in _earnest_. Modest again! Because I don't do a very
shabby thing, it seems, I "don't fear your competition." If it were
reduced to an alternative of preference, I _should_ dread you, as much
as Satan does Michael. But is there not room enough in our respective
regions? Go on--it will soon be my turn to forgive. To-day I dine with
Mackintosh and Mrs. _Stale_--as John Bull may be pleased to denominate
Corinne--whom I saw last night, at Covent Garden, yawning over the
humour of Falstaff.

The reputation of "gloom," if one's friends are not included in the
_reputants_, is of great service; as it saves one from a legion of
impertinents, in the shape of common-place acquaintance. But thou
know'st I can be a right merry and conceited fellow, and rarely
_larmoyant_. Murray shall reinstate your line forthwith. [3]

I believe the blunder in the motto was mine;--and yet I have, in
general, a memory for you, and am sure it was rightly printed at first.

I do "blush" very often, if I may believe Ladies H. and M.;--but
luckily, at present, no one sees me. Adieu.

[Footnote 1: Rogers ('Table-Talk, etc'., p. 161) regretted "that so
little of Curran's brilliant talk has been preserved." John Philpot
Curran (1750-1817), after accepting the Mastership of the Rolls in
Ireland (1806), spent much of his time in England. He retired from the
Bench, where he never shone, in 1814.

In Byron's 'Detached Thoughts' (1821) occurs the following passage:

  "I was much struck with the simplicity of Grattan's manners in private
  life. They were odd, but they were natural. Curran used to take him
  off, bowing to the very ground, and 'thanking God that he had no
  peculiarities of gesture or appearance,' in a way irresistibly
  ludicrous. Rogers used to call him a 'Sentimental Harlequin;' but
  Rogers backbites everybody, and Curran, who used to quiz his great
  friend Godwin to his very face, would hardly respect a fair mark of
  mimicry in another. To be sure, Curran _was_ admirable! to hear his
  description of the examination of an Irish witness was next to hearing
  his own speeches; the latter I never heard, but I have the former."

Elsewhere ('ibid'.) he returns to the subject:

  "Curran! Curran's the man who struck me most--such imagination! There
  never was anything like it, that ever I saw or heard of. His
  _published_ life--his published speeches--give you no idea of the man;
  none at all. He was a _Machine_ of imagination, as some one said that
  Piron was an 'Epigrammatic Machine.' I did not see a great deal of
  Curran,--only in 1813; but I met him at home (for he used to call on
  me), and in society, at Mackintosh's, Holland House, etc., etc. And he
  was wonderful, even to me, who had seen many remarkable men of the
  time."

The following notes on this passage are in the handwriting of Walter
Scott:

  "When Mathews first began to imitate Curran in Dublin--in society, I
  mean,--Curran sent for him and said, the moment he entered the room,
  'Mr. Mathews, you are a first-rate artist, and, since you are to do my
  picture, pray allow me to give you a sitting.' Everyone knows how
  admirably Mathews succeeded in furnishing at last the portraiture
  begun under these circumstances. No one was more aware of the truth
  than Curran himself. In his latter and feeble days, he was riding in
  Hyde Park one morning, bowed down over the saddle and bitterly
  dejected in his air. Mathews happened to observe and saluted him.
  Curran stopped his horse for a moment, squeezed Charles by the hand,
  and said in that deep whisper which the comedian so exquisitely
  mimics, 'Don't speak to me, my dear Mathews; you are the only Curran
  now!'"

  "Did you know Curran?" asked Byron of Lady Blessington
  ('Conversations', p. 176); "he was the most wonderful person I ever
  saw. In him was combined an imagination the most brilliant and
  profound, with a flexibility and wit that would have justified the
  observation applied to----, that his heart was in his head."

Moore ('Journal, etc.', vol. i. p. 40) quotes a couplet by Mrs. Battier
upon Curran, which "commemorates in a small compass two of his most
striking peculiarities, namely, his very unprepossessing personal
appearance, and his great success, notwithstanding, in pursuits of
gallantry...:

  "'For though his monkey face might fail to woo her,
  Yet, ah! his monkey tricks would quite undo her.'"]

[Footnote 2: In the spurious letters of Æschines (Letter x.) is a
passage which explains the allusion.

  "It is the custom of maidens, on the eve of their marriage, to wash in
  the waters of the Scamander, and then to utter this almost sacred
  formula,

    'Take, O Scamander, my virginity'

    ([Greek: to èpos toûto hosper hierón ti epilégein, Lhabé mou
    Scámandre tàen parthénian)."]

[Footnote 3:

  "The motto to 'The Giaour':

    One fatal remembrance--one sorrow that throws
    Its bleak shade alike o'er our joys and our woes,' etc.

  "which is taken from one of the 'Irish Melodies', had been quoted by
  him incorrectly in the first editions of the poem". (Moore).]

340.--To John Murray.

Stilton, Oct. 3, 1813.

Dear Sir,--I have just recollected an alteration you may make in the
proof to be sent to Aston.--Among the lines on Hassan's Serai, not far
from the beginning, is this:

  Unmeet for Solitude to share.

Now to share implies more than _one_, and Solitude is a single
gentlewoman; it must be thus:

  For many a gilded chamber's there,
  Which Solitude might well forbear;

and so on.--My address is Aston Hall, Rotherham. Will you adopt this
correction? and pray accept a cheese from me for your trouble. Ever
yours, B.

P.S.--I leave this to your discretion; if any body thinks the old line a
good one or the cheese a bad one, don't accept either. But, in that
case, the word _share_ is repeated soon after in the line:

  To share the Master's "bread and salt;"

and must be altered to:

  To break the Master's bread and salt.

This is not so well, though--confound it! If the old line stands, let
the other run thus:

  Nor there will weary traveller halt,
  To bless the sacred "bread and salt."

_Note_.--To partake of food--to break bread and taste salt with your
host--ensures the safety of the guest; even though an enemy, his person
from that moment becomes sacred.

There is another additional note sent yesterday--on the Priest in the
Confessional.

341.--To John Hanson.

Nottingham, Octr. 10th, 1813.

Dear Sir,--I am disposed to advance a loan of £1000 to James Webster
Wedderburne Webster, Esqre., of Aston Hall, York County, and request you
will address to me _there a bond_ and _judgement_ to be signed by the
said as soon as possible. Of Claughton's payments I know nothing
further, and the demands on myself I know also; but W. is a very old
friend of mine, and a man of property, and, as I can command the money,
he shall have it. I do not at all wish to inconvenience you, and I also
know that, when we balance accounts, it will be much in your favour; but
if you could replace the sum at Hoare's from my advance of two thousand
eight hundred in July, it would be a favour; or, still better, if C.
makes further payments, which will render it unnecessary. Don't let the
first part of the last sentence embarrass you at all; the last part
about Claughton I would wish you to attend to. I have written this
day--about his opening the cellar.

Pray send the bond and judgement to Aston as directed.

Ever, dear Sir,

B.

P.S.--Many, many thanks for your kind invitation; but it was too late. I
was in this county before it arrived. My best remembrances to Mrs. H.
and all the family.

342.--To the Hon. Augusta Leigh.

[Sunday], October 10th, 1813.

My dearest Augusta,--I have only time to say that I am not in the least
angry, and that my silence has merely arisen from several circumstances
which I cannot now detail. I trust you are better, and will continue
_best_. Ever, my dearest,

Yours,

B.

343.--To John Murray.

Oct. 12, 1813.

Dear Sir,--You must look 'The Giaour' again over carefully; there are a
few lapses, particularly in the last page,--"I _know_ 'twas false; she
could not die;" it was, and ought to be--"_knew_." Pray observe this and
similar mistakes.

I have received and read the 'British Review' [1].

I really think the writer in most parts very right. The only mortifying
thing is the accusation of imitation.

_Crabbe's passage_ I never saw; and Scott I no further meant to follow
than in his _lyric_ measure, which is Gray's, Milton's, and any one's
who likes it. 'The Giaour' is certainly a bad character, but not
dangerous: and I think his fate and his feelings will meet with few
proselytes. I shall be very glad to hear from or of you, when you
please; but don't put yourself out of your way on my account.

Yours ever,

B.

[Footnote 1: 'The British Review' (No. ix.) criticized 'The Giaour'
severely (pp. 132-145). "Lord Byron," it says, "has had the bad taste to
imitate Mr. Walter Scott" (p. 135). Further on (p. 139) it charges him
with borrowing a simile from Crabbe's 'Resentment'. The passage to which
the reviewer alludes will be found in lines 11-16 of that poem:

  "Those are like wax--apply them to the fire,
  Melting, they take th' impressions you desire:
  Easy to mould, and fashion as you please,
  And again moulded with an equal ease:
  Like smelted iron these the forms retain;
  But, once impress'd, will never melt again."]

344.--To the Hon. Augusta Leigh.

(Monday), Nov'r. 8th, 1813.

My Dearest Augusta,--I have only time to say that I shall write
tomorrow, and that my present and long silence has been occasioned by a
thousand things (with which _you_ are not concerned). It is not L'y C.
nor O.; but perhaps you may _guess_, and, if you do, do not tell.

You do not know what mischief your being with me might have prevented.
You shall hear from me tomorrow; in the mean time don't be alarmed. I am
in _no immediate_ peril.

Believe me, ever yours,

B.

345.--To John Murray.

(Nov. 12, 1813. With first proof of _Bride of Abydos_ correct.)

Dear Sir,--I have looked over--corrected--and added--_all_ of which you
may do too--at least _certainly_ the _two_ first. There is more MS.
_within_. Let me know tomorrow at your leisure _how_ and _when_ we shall
proceed! It looks better than I thought at first. _Look over_ again. I
suspect some omissions on my part and on the printers'.

Yours ever,

B.

Always print "een" "even." I utterly abhor "een"--if it must be
contracted, be it "ev'n."

346.--To William Gifford.

November 12, 1813.

My Dear Sir,--I hope you will consider, when I venture on any request,
that it is the reverse of a certain Dedication, and is addressed, _not_
to "The Editor of the 'Quarterly Review'" but to Mr. Gifford. You will
understand this, and on that point I need trouble you no farther.

You have been good enough to look at a thing of mine in MS.--a Turkish
story, and I should feel gratified if you would do it the same favour in
its probationary state of printing. It was written, I cannot say for
amusement, nor "obliged by hunger and request of friends," [1] but in a
state of mind, from circumstances which occasionally occur to "us
youth," that rendered it necessary for me to apply my mind to something,
any thing but reality; and under this not very brilliant inspiration it
was composed. Being done, and having at least diverted me from myself, I
thought you would not perhaps be offended if Mr. Murray forwarded it to
you. He has done so, and to apologise for his doing so a second time is
the object of my present letter.

I beg you will _not_ send me any answer. I assure you very sincerely I
know your time to be occupied, and it is enough, more than enough, if
you read; you are not to be bored with the fatigue of answers.

A word to Mr. Murray will be sufficient, and send it either to the
flames or

      "A hundred hawkers' load,
  On wings of wind to fly or fall abroad."

It deserves no better than the first, as the work of a week, and
scribbled 'stans pede in uno' [2], (by the by, the only foot I have to
stand on); and I promise never to trouble you again under forty cantos,
and a voyage between each. Believe me ever,

Your obliged and affectionate servant,

BYRON.

[Footnote 1: Pope, 'Epistle to Arbuthnot', l. 44.]

[Footnote 2: Horace, 'Sat'. 1. iv. 10.]

347.--To John Murray.

Nov. 12, 1813.

Two friends of mine (Mr. Rogers and Mr. Sharpe) have advised me not to
risk at present any single publication separately, for various reasons.
As they have not seen the one in question, they can have no bias for or
against the merits (if it has any) or the faults of the present subject
of our conversation. You say all the last of 'The Giaour' [1] are
gone--at least out of your hands. Now, if you think of publishing any
new edition with the last additions which have not yet been before the
reader (I mean distinct from the two-volume publication), we can add
"'The Bride of Abydos'," which will thus steal quietly into the world
[2]: if liked, we can then throw off some copies for the purchasers of
former "Giaours;" and, if not, I can omit it in any future publication.
What think you? I really am no judge of those things; and, with all my
natural partiality for one's own productions, I would rather follow any
one's judgment than my own.

P.S.--Pray let me have the proofs. I sent _all_ to-night. I have some
alterations that I have thought of that I wish to make speedily. I hope
the proof will be on separate pages, and not all huddled together on a
mile-long, ballad-singing sheet, as those of 'The Giaour' sometimes are:
for then I can't read them distinctly.

[Footnote 1: In 'Accepted Addresses; or, Premium Poetarum', pp. 50-52
(1813), 'Address' xvii. is from "Lord B----n to J. M----y, Book-seller."
The address itself runs as follows:

  "A Turkish tale I shall unfold,
  A sweeter tale was never told;
  But then the facts, I must allow,
  Are in the east not common now;
  Tho' in the 'olden time,' the scene
  My Goaour (_sic_) describes had often been.
  What is the cause! Perhaps the fair
  Are now more cautious than they were;
  Perhaps the Christians not so bold,
  So enterprising as of old.
  No matter what the cause may be,
  It is a subject fit for me.

  "Take my disjointed fragments then,
  The offspring of a willing pen.
  And give them to the public, pray,
  On or before the month of May.
  Yes, my disjointed fragments take,
  But do not ask _how much they'll make_.
  Perhaps not fifty pages--well,
  I in a little space can tell
  Th' adventures of an infidel;
  Of _quantity_ I never boast,
  For _quality_'s, approved of most.

  "It is a handsome sum to touch,
  Induces authors to write much;
  But in this much, alas! my friend,
  How little is there to commend.
  So, Mr. M----y, I disdain,
  To sacrifice my muse for gain.
  I wish it to be understood,
  The little which I write is good.

  "I do not like the quarto size,
  Th' octavo, therefore, I advise.
  Then do not, Mr. M----y, fail,
  To publish this, my Turkish Tale;
  For tho' the volume may be thin,
  A thousand readers it will win;
  And when my pages they explore,
  They'll gladly read them o'er and o'er;
  And all the ladies, I engage,
  With tears will moisten every page."]

[Footnote 2: John Murray writes, in an undated letter to Byron,

  "Mr. Canning returned the poem to-day with very warm expressions of
  delight. I told him your delicacy as to separate publication, of which
  he said you should remove every apprehension."]

348.--To John Murray.

Nov. 13, 1813.

Will you forward the letter to Mr. Gifford with the proof? There is an
alteration I may make in Zuleika's speech, in second canto (the only one
of _hers_ in that canto). It is now thus:

        And curse--if I could curse--the day.

It must be:

        And mourn--I dare not curse--the day,
        That saw my solitary birth, etc., etc.

Ever yours, B.

In the last MS. lines sent, instead of "living heart," correct to
"quivering heart." It is in line 9th of the MS. passage. Ever yours
again,

B.

349.--To John Murray.

Alteration of a line in Canto 2nd.
Instead of:

  And tints to-morrow with a _fancied_ ray

Print:

  And tints to-morrow with _prophetic_ ray.

  The evening beam that smiles the clouds away,
  And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray;

Or,

  And {_gilds_/tints} the hope of Morning with its ray;

Or,

  And gilds to-morrow's hope with heavenly ray.

Dear Sir,--I wish you would ask Mr. G. which of them is best, or rather
_not worst_.

Ever yours, B.

You can send the request contained in this at the same time with the
_revise, after_ I have seen the _said revise_.

350.--To John Murray.

Nov. 13, 1813.

Certainly. Do you suppose that no one but the Galileans are acquainted
with _Adam_, and _Eve_, and _Cain,_ [1] and _Noah_?--Surely, I might
have had Solomon, and Abraham, and David, and even Moses, or the other.
When you know that _Zuleika_ is the _Persian poetical_ name for
_Potiphar's_ wife, on whom and Joseph there is a long poem in the
Persian, this will not surprise you. If you want authority look at
Jones, D'Herbelot, 'Vathek', or the notes to the 'Arabian Nights'; and,
if you think it necessary, model this into a _note_.

Alter, in the inscription, "the most affectionate respect," to "with
every sentiment of regard and respect,"

[Footnote 1:

  "Some doubt had been expressed by Murray as to the propriety of his
  putting the name of Cain into the mouth of a Mussulman."

(Moore).]

351.--To John Murray.

Nov. 14, 1813.

I send you a note for the _ignorant_, but I really wonder at finding
_you_ among them. I don't care one lump of Sugar for my _poetry_; but
for my _costume_, and my _correctness_ on those points (of which I think
the _funeral_ was a proof), I will combat lustily.

Yours ever,

B.

352.--To John Murray.

November 15, 1813.

DEAR SIR,--Mr. Hodgson has looked over and _stopped_, or rather
_pointed_, this revise, which must be the one to print from. He has also
made some suggestions, with most of which I have complied, as he has
always, for these ten years, been a very sincere, and by no means (at
times) flattering critic of mine. _He_ likes it (you will think
_flatteringly_, in this instance) better than 'The Giaour', but doubts
(and so do I) its being so popular; but, contrary to some others,
advises a separate publication. On this we can easily decide. I confess
I like the _double_ form better. Hodgson says, it is _better versified_
than any of the others; which is odd, if true, as it has cost me less
time (though more _hours_ at a time) than any attempt I ever made.

Yours ever, B.

P.S.--Do attend to the punctuation: I can't, for I don't know a
comma--at least where to place one.

That Tory of a printer has omitted two lines of the opening, and
_perhaps more_, which were in the MS. Will you, pray, give him a hint of
accuracy? I have reinserted the 2, but they were in the manuscript, I
can swear.

353.--To John Murray.

November 17, 1813.

My Dear Sir,--That you and I may distinctly understand each other on a
subject, which, like "the dreadful reckoning when men smile no more,"
[1] makes conversation not very pleasant, I think it as well to _write_
a few lines on the topic.--Before I left town for Yorkshire, you said
that you were ready and willing to give five hundred guineas for the
copyright of 'The Giaour'; and my answer was--from which I do not mean
to recede--that we would discuss the point at Christmas. The new story
may or may not succeed; the probability, under present circumstances,
seems to be, that it may at least pay its expences--but even that
remains to be proved, and till it is proved one way or the other, we
will say nothing about it. Thus then be it: I will postpone all
arrangement about it, and 'The Giaour' also, till Easter, 1814; and you
shall then, according to your own notions of fairness, make your own
offer for the two. At the same time, I do not rate the last in my own
estimation at half 'The Giaour'; and according to your own notions of
its worth and its success within the time mentioned, be the addition or
deduction to or from whatever sum may be your proposal for the first,
which has already had its success [2].

My account with you since my last payment (which I believe cleared it
off within five pounds) I presume has not _much_ increased--but whatever
it is have the goodness to send it to me--that I may at least meet you
on even terms.

The pictures of Phillips I consider as _mine_, all three; and the one
(not the Arnaut) of the two best is much at _your service_, if you will
accept it as a present, from Yours very truly, BIRON.

P.S.--The expence of engraving from the miniature send me in my account,
as it was destroyed by my desire; and have the goodness to burn that
detestable print from it immediately.

[Footnote 1: 'The What d'ye call't?' by John Gay (act ii. sc. 9):

    "So comes a reckoning when the banquet's o'er,
     The dreadful reckoning, and men smile no more."]

[Footnote 2: Murray replies, November 18, 1813,

  "I restore the 'Giaour' to your Lordship entirely, and for 'it', the
  'Bride of Abydos', and the miscellaneous poems intended to fill up the
  volume of the small edition, I beg leave to offer you the sum of One
  Thousand Guineas, and I shall be happy if you perceive that my
  estimation of your talents in my character of a man of business is not
  much under my admiration of them as a man."]

354.--To John Murray.

November 20, 1813.

More work for the _Row_. I am doing my best to beat "_The Giaour_"--_no_
difficult task for any one but the author. Yours truly,
B.

355.--To John Murray.

November 22, 1813.

DEAR SIR,--I have no time to _cross_-investigate, but I believe and hope
all is right. I care less than you will believe about its success, but I
can't survive a single _misprint_; it _choaks_ me to see words misused
by the Printers. Pray look over, in case of some eyesore escaping me.
Ever yours, B.

P.S.--Send the earliest copies to Mr. Frere, Mr. Canning, Mr. Heber, Mr.
Gifford, Lord Holland, Lady Melbourne (Whitehall), Lady C. L. (Brocket),
Mr. Hodgson (Cambridge), Mr. Merivale, Mr. Ward, from the author.

356.--To John Murray.

November 23, 1813.

DEAR SIR,--You wanted some _reflections_, and I send you _per Selim_
(see his speech in Canto 2d, page 46.), eighteen lines in decent
couplets, of a pensive, if not an _ethical_ tendency. One more
revise--poz. the _last_, if decently done--at any rate the
_pen_ultimate. Mr. Canning's approbation (_if_ he did approve) I need
not say makes me proud [1].

As to printing, print as you will and how you will--by itself, if you
like; but let me have a few copies in _sheets_.

Ever yours,

B.

[Footnote 1: Canning wrote the following note to Murray:

  "I received the books, and, among them, 'The Bride of Abydos'. It is
  very, very beautiful. Lord Byron (when I met him, one day, at dinner
  at Mr. Ward's) was so kind as to promise to give me a copy of it. I
  mention this, not to save my purchase, but because I should be really
  flattered by the present. I can now say that I have read enough of
  Mad. de Staël to be highly pleased and instructed by her. The second
  volume delights me particularly. I have not yet finished the third,
  but am taking it with me on my journey to Liverpool."]

357.--To John Murray.

November 24, 1813.

You must pardon me once more, as it is all for your good: it must be
thus:

  He makes a Solitude, and calls it Peace.

"_Makes_" is closer to the passage of Tacitus [1], from which the line
is taken, and is, besides, a stronger word than "_leaves_."

  Mark where his carnage and his conquests cease--
  He makes a Solitude, and calls it--peace.

You will perceive that the sense is now clearer, the "_He_" refers to
"_Man_" in the preceding couplet.

Yours ever,

B.

[Footnote 1:

  "Solitudinem faciunt--pacem appellant."

Tacitus, 'Agricola', 30.]

358.--To John Murray.

November 27, 1813.

Dear Sir,--If you look over this carefully by the _last proof_ with my
corrections, it is probably right; this _you_ can _do_ as well or
better;--I have not now time. The copies I mentioned to be sent to
different friends last night, I should wish to be made up with the new
Giaours, if it also is ready. If not, send 'The Giaour' afterwards.

The 'Morning Post' says _I_ am the author of 'Nourjahad' [1]!!

This comes of lending the drawings for their dresses; but it is not
worth a _formal contradiction_. Besides, the criticisms on the
_supposition_ will, some of them, be quite amusing and furious. The
_Orientalism_--which I hear is very splendid--of the Melodrame
(whosever it is, and I am sure I don't know) is as good as an
Advertisement for your Eastern Stories, by filling their heads with
glitter. Yours ever, B.

P.S.--You will of course _say_ the truth, that I am _not_ the
Melo-dramatist--if any one charges me in your presence with the
performance.

[Footnote 1: The same charge is made in the 'Satirist' (vol. xiii. p.
508). 'Illusion, or the Trances of Nourjahad', was acted at Drury Lane,
November 25, 1813. It is described by Genest ('The English Stage', vol.
viii. p. 403) as "a Melo-dramatic spectacle in three acts by an
anonymous author." "Nourjahad" was acted by Elliston; "Mandane," his
wife, by Mrs. Horn.]

359.--To John Murray.

November 28, 1813.

Dear Sir,--Send another copy (if not too much of a request) to Lady
Holland of the _Journal_ [1], in my name, when you receive this; it is
for _Earl Grey_--and I will relinquish my own. Also to Mr. Sharpe, Lady
Holland, and Lady Caroline Lamb, copies of _The Bride_, as soon as
convenient. Ever yours, BIRON.

P.S.--Mr. W. and myself still continue our purpose; but I shall not
trouble you on any arrangement on the score of _The Giaour_ and _The
Bride_ till our return,--or, at any rate, before _May_, 1814,--that is,
six months from hence: and before that time you will be able to
ascertain how far your offer may be a losing one: if so, you can deduct
proportionably; and if not, I shall not at any rate allow you to go
higher than your present proposal, which is very handsome, and more than
fair.

I have had--but this must be _entre nous_--a very kind note, on the
subject of _The Bride_, from Sir James Mackintosh, and an invitation to
go there this evening, which it is now too late to accept [2].

[Footnote 1: The Rev. John Eagles (1783-1855), scholar, artist, and
contributor (1831-55) to 'Blackwood's Magazine', edited 'The Journal of
Llewellin Penrose, a Seaman', which Murray published in 1815.]

[Footnote 2:

  "Lord Byron is the author of the day; six thousand of his 'Bride of
  Abydos' have been sold within a month."

Sir James Mackintosh ('Life', vol. ii. p. 271).]

360.--To John Murray.

November 29, 1813.

Sunday--Monday morning--three o'clock--in my doublet and
hose,--_swearing_.

Dear Sir,--I send you in time an Errata page, containing an omission of
mine [1], which must be thus added, as it is too late for insertion in
the text. The passage is an imitation altogether from Medea in Ovid, and
is incomplete without these two lines. Pray let this be done, and
directly; it is necessary, will add one page to your book(-_making_),
and can do no harm, and is yet in time for the _public_. Answer me, thou
Oracle, in the affirmative. You can send the loose pages to those who
have copies already, if they like; but certainly to all the _Critical_
copyholders.

Ever yours, BIRON.

P.S.--I have got out of my bed (in which, however, I could not sleep,
whether I had amended this or not), and so good morning. I am trying
whether _De l'Allemagne_ will act as an opiate, but I doubt it.

[Footnote 1: 'The Bride of Abydos', Canto II. stanza xx. The lines were:

  "Then, if my lip once murmurs, it must be
  No sigh for Safety, but a prayer for thee."]

361.--To John Murray.

November 29, 1813.

"_You have looked at it!_" to much purpose, to allow so stupid a blunder
to stand; it is _not_ "_courage_" but "_carnage_;" and if you don't want
me to cut my own throat, see it altered.

I am very sorry to hear of the fall of Dresden.

362.--To John Murray.

Nov. 29, 1813, Monday.

Dear Sir,--You will act as you please upon that point; but whether I go
or stay, I shall not say another word on the subject till May--nor then,
unless quite convenient to yourself. I have many things I wish to leave
to your care, principally papers. The _vases_ need not be now sent, as
Mr. W. is gone to Scotland. You are right about the Er[rata] page; place
it at the beginning. Mr. Perry is a little premature in his compliments
[1]: these may do harm by exciting expectation, and I think _we_ ought
to be above it--though I see the next paragraph is on the 'Journal' [2],
which makes me suspect _you_ as the author of both.

Would it not have been as well to have said in 2 cantos in the
advertisement? they will else think of _fragments_, a species of
composition very well for _once_, like _one ruin_ in a _view_; but one
would not build a town of them. 'The Bride', such as it is, is my first
_entire_ composition of any length (except the Satire, and be damned to
it), for 'The Giaour' is but a string of passages, and 'Childe Harold'
is, and I rather think always will be, unconcluded. I return Mr. Hay's
note, with thanks to him and you.

There have been some epigrams on Mr. W[ard]: one I see to-day [3].

The first I did not see, but heard yesterday. The second seems very bad
and Mr. P[erry] has placed it over _your_ puff. I only hope that Mr. W.
does not believe that I had any connection with either. The Regent is
the only person on whom I ever expectorated an epigram, or ever should;
and even if I were disposed that way, I like and value Mr. W. too well
to allow my politics to contract into spleen, or to admire any thing
intended to annoy him or his. You need not take the trouble to answer
this, as I shall see you in the course of the afternoon.

Yours very truly, B.

P.S.--I have said this much about the epigrams, because I live so much
in the _opposite camp_, and, from my post as an Engineer, might be
suspected as the flinger of these hand Grenadoes; but with a worthy foe
I am all for open war, and not this bush-fighting, and have [not] had,
nor will have, any thing to do with it. I do not know the author.

[Footnote 1: In the 'Morning Chronicle', November 29, 1813, appeared the
following paragraph:

  "Lord Byron's muse is extremely fruitful. He has another poem coming
  out, entitled 'The Bride of Abydos', which is spoken of in terms of
  the highest encomium."]

[Footnote 2: 'Journal of Llewellin Penrose, a Seaman.']

[Footnote 3:

  "Ward has no heart, they say; but I deny it;--
  He has a heart, and gets his speeches by it."]

363.--To John Murray.

Tuesday evening, Nov. 30, 1813.

Dear Sir,--For the sake of correctness, particularly in an Errata page,
the alteration of the couplet I have just sent (half an hour ago) must
take place, in spite of delay or cancel; let me see the _proof_ early
to-morrow. I found out _murmur_ to be a neuter _verb_, and have been
obliged to alter the line so as to make it a substantive, thus:

  The deepest murmur of this life shall be
  No sigh for Safety, but a prayer for thee!

Don't send the copies to the _country_ till this is all right.

Yours,
B.

364.--To Thomas Moore.

November 30, 1813.

Since I last wrote to you, much has occurred, good, bad, and
indifferent,--not to make me forget you, but to prevent me from
reminding you of one who, nevertheless, has often thought of you, and to
whom _your_ thoughts, in many a measure, have frequently been a
consolation. We were once very near neighbours this autumn; and a good
and bad neighbourhood it has proved to me. Suffice it to say, that your
French quotation [1] was confoundedly to the purpose,--though very
_unexpectedly_ pertinent, as you may imagine by what I _said_ before,
and my silence since. However, "Richard's himself again," [2] and except
all night and some part of the morning, I don't think very much about
the matter.

All convulsions end with me in rhyme; and to solace my midnights, I have
scribbled another Turkish story [3]--not a Fragment--which you will
receive soon after this. It does not trench upon your kingdom in the
least, and if it did, you would soon reduce me to my proper boundaries.
You will think, and justly, that I run some risk of losing the little I
have gained in fame, by this further experiment on public patience; but
I have really ceased to care on that head. I have written this, and
published it, for the sake of the _employment_,--to wring my thoughts
from reality, and take refuge in "imaginings," however "horrible;" [4]
and, as to success! those who succeed will console me for a
failure--excepting yourself and one or two more, whom luckily I love too
well to wish one leaf of their laurels a tint yellower. This is the work
of a week, and will be the reading of an hour to you, or even less,--and
so, let it go----.

P.S.--Ward and I _talk_ of going to Holland. I want to see how a Dutch
canal looks after the Bosphorus. Pray respond.

[Footnote 1: Moore wrote to Byron in 1813 an undated letter, in which
the following passage occurs:

  "I am sorry I must wait till 'we are veterans' before you will open to
  me 'the story of your wandering life, wherein you find more hours _due
  to repentance_ ... than time hath told you yet.' Is it so with you, or
  are you, like me, reprobate enough to look back with complacency on
  what you have done? I suppose repentance _must bring up the rear_ with
  us all; but at present I should say with old Fontenelle, _Si je
  recommençais ma carrière, je ferais tout ce que j'ai fait_."]

[Footnote 2: Colley Cibber's 'Richard III', act v. sc. 3:

  "Conscience, avaunt! Richard's himself again."]

[Footnote 3: 'The Bride of Abydos' was published December, 1813.]

[Footnote 4:

  "Horrible imaginings."

'Macbeth', act i. sc. 3.]

365.--To Francis Hodgson.

Nov'r--Dec'r 1st, 1813.

I have just heard that _Knapp_ is acquainted with what I was but too
happy in being enabled to do for you [1].

Now, my dear Hn., you, or Drury, must have told this, for, upon my own
honour, not even to Scrope, nor to one soul, (Drury knew it before) have
I said one syllable of the matter. So don't be out of humour with me
about it, but you can't be more so than I am. I am, however, glad of one
thing; if you ever conceived it to be in the least an obligation, this
disclosure most fairly and fully releases you from it:

  "To John I owe some obligation,
    But John unluckily thinks fit
  To publish it to all the nation,
    So John and I are more than quit."

And so there's an end of the matter.

Ward _wavers_ a little about the Dutch, till matters are more sedative,
and the French more sedentary.

The 'Bride' will blush upon you in a day or two; there is _much_, at
least a _little_ addition. I am happy to say that Frere and Heber, and
some other "good men and true," have been kind enough to adopt the same
opinion that you did.

Pray write when you like, and believe me,

Ever yours,

BYRON.

P.S.--Murray has _offered_ me a thousand guineas for the _two_ ('Giaour'
and 'Bride'), and told M'e. de Stael that he had _paid_ them to me!! I
should be glad to be able to tell her so too. But the truth is, he
would; but I thought the fair way was to decline it till May, and, at
the end of 6 months, he can safely say whether he can afford it or
not--without running any risk by Speculation. If he paid them now and
lost by it, it would be hard. If he gains, it will be time enough when
he has already funded his profits. But he needed not have told "_la
Baronne_" such a devil of an uncalled for piece of--premature _truth_,
perhaps--but, nevertheless, a _lie_ in the mean time.

[Footnote 1: Hodgson, now engaged to Miss Tayler, was anxious to clear
off his father's liabilities. Byron gave him from first to last the sum
of £1500 for the purpose. Hodgson, in a letter to his uncle, thus
describes the gift ('Memoir of Rev. F. Hodgson', vol. i. pp. 268, 269):

  "My noble-hearted friend, Lord Byron, after many offers of a similar
  kind, which I felt bound to refuse, has irresistibly in my present
  circumstances ... volunteered to pay all my debts, and within a few
  pounds it is done! Oh, if you knew (but _you_ do know) the exultation
  of heart, aye, and of head too, I feel at being free from these
  depressing embarrassments, you would, as I do, bless my dearest friend
  and brother Byron."]

366.--To John Murray.

Dec. 2, 1813.

Dear Sir,--When you can, let the couplet enclosed be inserted either in
the page, or in the Errata page. I trust it is in time for some of the
copies. This alteration is in the same part--the page _but one_ before
the last correction sent.

Yours, etc.,

B.

P.S.--I am afraid, from all I hear, that people are rather inordinate in
their expectations, which is very unlucky, but cannot now be helped.
This comes of Mr. Perry and one's wise friends; but do not _you_ wind
_your_ hopes of success to the same pitch, for fear of accidents, and I
can assure you that my philosophy will stand the test very fairly; and I
have done every thing to ensure you, at all events, from positive loss,
which will be some satisfaction to both.

367.--To Leigh Hunt.

4, Bennet St., Dec. 2, 1813.

My dear Sir,--Few things could be more welcome than your note, and on
Saturday morning I will avail myself of your permission to thank you for
it in person. My time has not been passed, since we met, either
profitably or agreeably. A very short period after my last visit, an
incident occurred with which, I fear, you are not unacquainted, as
report, in many mouths and more than one paper, was busy with the topic.
That, naturally, gave me much uneasiness. Then I nearly incurred a
lawsuit on the sale of an estate; but that is now arranged: next--but
why should I go on with a series of selfish and silly details? I merely
wish to assure you that it was not the frivolous forgetfulness of a
mind, occupied by what is called pleasure (_not_ in the true sense of
Epicurus), that kept me away; but a perception of my, then, unfitness to
share the society of those whom I value and wish not to displease. I
hate being _larmoyant_, and making a serious face among those who are
cheerful.

It is my wish that our acquaintance, or, if you please to accept it,
friendship, may be permanent. I have been lucky enough to preserve some
friends from a very early period, and I hope, as I do not (at least now)
select them lightly, I shall not lose them capriciously. I have a
thorough esteem for that independence of spirit [1] which you have
maintained with sterling talent, and at the expense of some suffering.
You have not, I trust, abandoned the poem you were composing, when Moore
and I partook of your hospitality in the summer. I hope a time will come
when he and I may be able to repay you in kind for the _latter_--for the
rhyme, at least in _quantity_, you are in arrear to both.

Believe me, very truly and affectionately yours,

Byron.

[Footnote 1: The following is Leigh Hunt's answer:

  "My dear Lord,--I need not tell you how much your second letter has
  gratified me, for I am apt to speak as sincerely as I think (you must
  suffer me to talk in this way after what you have been kind enough to
  say of my independence), and it always rejoices me to find that those
  whom I wish to regard will take me at my word. But I shall grow
  egotistical upon the strength of your Lordship's good opinion. I shall
  be heartily glad to see you on Saturday morning, and perhaps shall
  prevail upon you to take a luncheon with us at our dinner-time(3). The
  nature of your letter would have brought upon you a long answer,
  filled perhaps with an enthusiasm that might have made you smile; but
  I am keeping your servant in the cold, and so, among other good
  offices, you see what he has done for you. However, I would not make a
  light thing of so good a matter as I mean my enthusiasm to be, and
  intend, before I have done, that you shall have as sound a regard for
  it, as I have for the feelings on your Lordship's part that have
  called it forth.

  "Yours, my dear Lord, most sincerely and cordially,

  "Leigh Hunt.

  "Surrey Jail, 2'd Dec'r., 1813."]

368.--To John Murray.

Dec. 3, 1813.

I send you a _scratch_ or _two_, the which _heal_. The _Christian
Observer_ [1] is very savage, but certainly uncommonly well written--and
quite uncomfortable at the naughtiness of book and author. I rather
suspect you won't much like the _present_ to be more moral, if it is to
share also the usual fate of your virtuous volumes.

Let me see a proof of the _six_ before _incorporation_.

[Footnote 1: The 'Christian Observer' for November, 1813 (pp. 731-737)
felt compelled to review 'The Giaour', because of its extraordinary
popularity; but it found that some of the passages savoured "too much of
Newgate and Bedlam for our expurgated pages." It acknowledged one
obligation to Byron.

  "He never attempts to deceive the world by representing the profligate
  as happy.... And his testimony is of the more value, as his situation
  in life must have permitted him to see the experiment tried under the
  most favourable circumstances. He has probably seen more than one
  example of young men of high birth, talents, and expectancies, ...
  sink under the burden of unsubdued tempers, licentious alliances, and
  ennervating indulgence.... He has _seen_ all this; nay, perhaps--But
  we check our pen," etc., etc.]

369.--To John Murray.

Dec. 3, 1813.

My dear Sir,--Look out the Encyclopedia article _Mecca_ whether it is
there or at _Medina_ the Prophet is entombed, if at Medina the first
lines of my alteration must run:

  Blest as the call which from Medina's dome
  Invites Devotion to her Prophet's tomb, etc.

If at "Mecca" the lines may stand as before. Page 45, C°. 2nd, 'Bride of
Abydos'. Yours, B.

You will find this out either by Article _Mecca, Medina_ or _Mahommed_.
I have no book of reference by me.

370.--To John Murray.

[No date.]

Did you look out? is it _Medina_ or _Mecca_ that contains the _holy_
Sepulchre? don't make me blaspheme by your negligence. I have no books
of reference or I would save you the trouble. I _blush_ as a good
Mussulman to have confused the point. Yours, B.

371.--To John Murray.

Dec. 4, 1813.

Dear Sir,--I have redde through your Persian Tales [1], and have taken
the liberty of making some remarks on the _blank_ pages. There are many
beautiful passages, and an interesting story; and I cannot give you a
stronger proof that such is my opinion, than by the _date_ of the
_hour--two o'clock_,--till which it has kept me awake _without a yawn_.

The conclusion is not quite correct in _costume_: there is no _Mussulman
suicide_ on record--at least for _love_. But this matters not. The tale
must have been written by some one who has been on the spot, and I wish
him, and he deserves, success. Will you apologise to the author for the
liberties I have taken with his MS.? Had I been less awake to, and
interested in, his theme, I had been less obtrusive; but you know _I_
always take this in good part, and I hope he will. It is difficult to
say what _will_ succeed, and still more to pronounce what _will not_.
_I_ am at this moment in _that uncertainty_ (on your _own_ score); and
it is no small proof of the author's powers to be able to _charm_ and
_fix_ a _mind's_ attention on similar subjects and climates in such a
predicament. That he may have the same effect upon all his readers is
very sincerely the wish, and hardly the _doubt_, of

Yours truly, B.

[Footnote 1: Henry Gally Knight (1786-1846), who was with Byron at
Trinity, Cambridge, and afterwards distinguished himself by his
architectural writings (e.g. 'The Normans in Sicily,' 1838), began his
literary career with 'Ilderim, a Syrian Tale' (1816). 'Phrosyne, a
Grecian Tale'; 'Alashtar, an Arabian Tale' (1817), was followed, after a
considerable interval, by 'Eastern Sketches' (about 1829-30). If the
manuscript of the first-mentioned volume is that to which Byron refers,
he seems to have changed his mind as to its merits (March 25, 1817):

  "I tried at 'Ilderim;'
              Ahem!"]

372.--To John Murray.

Monday evening, Dec. 6, 1813.

Dear Sir,--It is all very well, except that the lines are not numbered
properly, and a diabolical mistake, page 67., which _must_ be corrected
with the _pen_, if no other way remains; it is the omission of "_not_"
before "_disagreeable_" in the _note_ on the _amber_ rosary. This is
really horrible, and nearly as bad as the stumble of mine at the
Threshold--I mean the _misnomer_ of bride. Pray do not let a copy go
without the "_not_;" it is nonsense, and worse than nonsense, as it now
stands. I wish the printer was saddled with a vampire.

Yours ever, B.

P.S.--It is still _hath_ instead of _have_ in page 20.; never was any
one so _misused_ as I am by your Devils of printers.

P.S.--I hope and trust the "_not_" was inserted in the first Edition. We
must have something--any thing--to set it right. It is enough to answer
for one's own bulls, without other people's.

373.--To Thomas Moore.

December 8, 1813.

Your letter, like all the best, and even kindest things in this world,
is both painful and pleasing. But, first, to what sits nearest. Do you
know I was actually about to dedicate to you,--not in a formal
inscription, as to one's _elders_,--but through a short prefatory
letter, in which I boasted myself your intimate, and held forth the
prospect of _your_ poem; when, lo! the recollection of your strict
injunctions of secrecy as to the said poem, more than _once_ repeated by
word and letter, flashed upon me, and marred my intents. I could have no
motive for repressing my own desire of alluding to you (and not a day
passes that I do not think and talk of you), but an idea that you might,
yourself, dislike it. You cannot doubt my sincere admiration, waving
personal friendship for the present, which, by the by, is not less
sincere and deep rooted. I have you by rote and by heart; of which _ecce
signum!_ When I was at Aston, on my first visit, I have a habit, in
passing my time a good deal alone, of--I won't call it singing, for that
I never attempt except to myself--but of uttering, to what I think
tunes, your "Oh breathe not," "When the last glimpse," and "When he who
adores thee," with others of the same minstrel;--they are my matins and
vespers. I assuredly did not intend them to be overheard, but, one
morning, in comes, not _La Donna_, but _Il Marito_, with a very grave
face, saying, "Byron, I must request you won't sing any more, at least
of those songs." I stared, and said, "Certainly, but why?"--"To tell you
the truth," quoth he, "they make my wife _cry_, and so melancholy, that
I wish her to hear no more of them."

Now, my dear M., the effect must have been from your words, and
certainly not my music. I merely mention this foolish story to show you
how much I am indebted to you for even your pastimes. A man may praise
and praise, but no one recollects but that which pleases--at least, in
composition. Though I think no one equal to you in that department, or
in satire,--and surely no one was ever so popular in both,--I certainly
am of opinion that you have not yet done all _you_ can do, though more
than enough for any one else. I want, and the world expects, a longer
work from you; and I see in you what I never saw in poet before, a
strange diffidence of your own powers, which I cannot account for, and
which must be unaccountable, when a _Cossac_ like me can appal a
_cuirassier_. Your story I did not, could not, know,--I thought only of
a Peri. I wish you had confided in me, not for your sake, but mine, and
to prevent the world from losing a much better poem than my own, but
which, I yet hope, this _clashing_ will not even now deprive them of
[1].

Mine is the work of a week, written, _why_ I have partly told you, and
partly I cannot tell you by letter--some day I will.

Go on--I shall really be very unhappy if I at all interfere with you.
The success of mine is yet problematical; though the public will
probably purchase a certain quantity, on the presumption of their own
propensity for 'The Giaour' and such "horrid mysteries." The only
advantage I have is being on the spot; and that merely amounts to saving
me the trouble of turning over books which I had better read again. If
_your chamber_ was furnished in the same way, you have no need to _go
there_ to describe--I mean only as to _accuracy_--because I drew it from
recollection.

This last thing of mine _may_ have the same fate, and I assure you I
have great doubts about it. But, even if not, its little day will be
over before you are ready and willing. Come out--"screw your courage to
the sticking-place." [2]

Except the _Post Bag_ (and surely you cannot complain of a want of
success there), you have not been _regularly_ out for some years. No man
stands higher,--whatever you may think on a rainy day, in your
provincial retreat.

  "Aucun homme, dans aucune langue, n'a été, peut-être, plus
  complètement le poëte du coeur et le poëte des femmes. Les critiques
  lui reprochent de n'avoir représenté le monde ní tel qu'il est, ni tel
  qu'il doit être; _mais les femmes répondent qu'il l'a représenté tel
  qu'elles le désirent._"

I should have thought Sismondi [3] had written this for you instead of
Metastasio.

Write to me, and tell me of _yourself_. Do you remember what Rousseau
said to some one--"Have we quarrelled? you have talked to me often, and
never once mentioned yourself."

P.S.--The last sentence is an indirect apology for my egotism,--but I
believe in letters it is allowed. I wish it was _mutual_. I have met
with an odd reflection in Grimm; it shall not--at least the bad part--be
applied to you or me, though _one_ of us has certainly an indifferent
name--but this it is:--"Many people have the reputation of being wicked,
with whom we should be too happy to pass our lives". I need not add it
is a woman's saying--a Mademoiselle de Sommery's [4].

[Footnote 1:

  "Among the stories intended to be introduced into 'Lalla Rookh', which
  I had begun, but, from various causes, never finished, there was one
  which I had made some progress in, at the time of the appearance of
  'The Bride', and which, on reading that poem, I found to contain such
  singular coincidences with it, not only in locality and costume, but
  in plot and characters, that I immediately gave up my story
  altogether, and began another on an entirely new subject--the
  Fire-worshippers. To this circumstance, which I immediately
  communicated to him, Lord Byron alludes in this letter. In my hero (to
  whom I had even given the name of 'Zelim,' and who was a descendant of
  Ali, outlawed, with all his followers, by the reigning Caliph) it was
  my intention to shadow out, as I did afterwards in another form, the
  national cause of Ireland. To quote the words of my letter to Lord
  Byron on the subject: 'I chose this story because one writes best
  about what one feels most, and I thought the parallel with Ireland
  would enable me to infuse some vigour into my hero's character. But to
  aim at vigour and strong feeling after 'you' is hopeless;--that region
  "was made for Cæsar."'"

(Moore).]

[Footnote 2: 'Macbeth', act i. sc. 7.]

[Footnote 3: 'De la Littérature du Midi de l'Europe', ed. 1813, tom. ii.
p. 436.]

[Footnote 4: Grimm ('Correspondance Littéraire', ed. 1813, part iii. tom
ii. p. 126) says of Mlle. de Sommery, who died of apoplexy in 1790,

  "Que de gens ont la réputation d'être méchans, avec lesquels on serait
  trop heureux de passer sa vie."

The 'Biographie Universelle' says of her,

  "Elle avait du talent pour écrire; mais elle ne l'exerça que fort tard
  .... Le premier livre qu'elle publia, n'étant plus très jeune, fut un
  recueil de pensées détachées, dédié aux mânes de Saurin, qu'elle
  intitula 'Doutes sur differentes Opinions reçues dans la Societé'. Ce
  recueil eut un véritable succés."

Mlle. de Sommery also published, besides the 'Doutes' (1782), 'Lettres
de Madame la Comtesse de L. à M. le Comte de R'. (1785); 'Lettres de
Mlle. de Tourville à Madame la Comtesse de Lénoncourt' (1788);
'L'Oreille, conte Asiatique' (1789).]

374.--To John Galt [1].

Dec. 11, 1813.

My dear Galt,--There was no offence--there _could_ be none. I thought it
by no means impossible that we might have hit on something similar,
particularly as you are a dramatist, and was anxious to assure you of
the truth, viz., that I had not wittingly seized upon plot, sentiment,
or incident; and I am very glad that I have not in any respect trenched
upon your subjects. Something still more singular is, that the _first_
part, where you have found a coincidence in some events within your
observations on _life_, was _drawn_ from _observations_ of mine also,
and I meant to have gone on with the story, but on _second_ thoughts, I
thought myself _two centuries_ at least too late for the subject; which,
though admitting of very powerful feeling and description, yet is not
adapted for this age, at least this country, though the finest works of
the Greeks, one of Schiller's and Alfieri's in modern times, besides
several of our _old_ (and best) dramatists, have been grounded on
incidents of a similar cast. I therefore altered it as you perceive, and
in so doing have weakened the whole, by interrupting the train of
thought: and in composition I do not think _second_ thoughts are the
best, though _second_ expressions may improve the first ideas.

I do not know how other men feel towards those they have met abroad, but
to me there seems a kind of tie established between all who have met
together in a foreign country, as if we had met in a state of
pre-existence, and were talking over a life that has ceased: but I
always look forward to renewing my travels; and though _you_, I think,
are now stationary, if I can at all forward your pursuits _there_ as
well as here, I shall be truly glad in the opportunity.

Ever yours very sincerely, B.

P.S.--I leave town for a day or two on Monday, but after that I am
always at home, and happy to see you till half-past two.

[Footnote 1: For John Galt, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 243 [Footnote 1 of
Letter 130], and vol. ii. p. 101, 'note' 1 [Footnote 1 of Letter 255].
Galt wrote to Byron in 1813, pointing out that "there was a remarkable
coincidence in the story" (of 'The Bride of Abydos') "with a matter in
which I had been interested" ('Life of Byron', p. 180, ed. 1830). Byron,
imagining himself charged with plagiarism, wrote a somewhat angry reply,
to which Gait answered by stating that the coincidence was not one of
ideas, sentiment, or story, but of real fact. He received the above
answer ('Life of Byron', pp. 181, 182).

On this poem Byron seems to have been particularly sensitive. He is
accused of borrowing the opening lines from Mignon's song in Goethe's
'Wilhelm Meister':

  "Kennst du das Land wo die Citronen blühn?"

Cyrus Redding ('Yesterday and To-day', vol. ii. pp. 14, 15) suggests
that Byron used the translation of the poem which he himself had made
and published in 1812 or 1813.

Byron was also charged with pilfering them from Madame de Staël.

  "Do you know de Staël's lines?" he asked Lady Blessington
  ('Conversations', pp. 326, 327); "for if I am a thief, she must be the
  plundered, as I don't read German and do French: yet I could almost
  swear that I never saw her verses when I wrote mine, nor do I even now
  remember them. I think the first began with 'Cette terre,' etc., etc.;
  but the rest I forget. As you have a good memory, perhaps you would
  repeat them."

  "I did so," says Lady Blessington, "and they are as follows:

    "'Cette terre, où les myrtes fleurissent,
    Où les rayons des cieux tombent avec amour,
    Où des sons enchanteurs dans les airs retentissent,
    Où la plus douce nuit succéde au plus beau jour,' etc."]

375.--To John Murray.

Decr. y'r 14th, 1813.

Deare Sir,--Send y'e E'r of ye new R'w a copy as he hath had y'e trouble
of two walks on y't acct.

As to the man of the _Satirist_--I hope you have too much spirit to
allow a single Sheet to be offered as a peace offering to him or any
one. If you _do_, expect _never_ to be _forgiven_ by me--if he is not
personal he is quite welcome to his opinion--and if he is, I have my own
remedy.

Send a copy _double_ to Dr. Clarke (y'e traveller) Cambrigge by y'e
first opportunitie--and let me see you in y'e morninge y't I may mention
certain thinges y'e which require sundrie though slight alterations.

Sir, your Servitor, Biroñ

376.--To Thomas Ashe [1].

4, Bennet Street, St. James's, Dec. 14, 1813.

Sir,--I leave town for a few days to-morrow. On my return, I will answer
your letter more at length.

Whatever may be your situation, I cannot but commend your resolution to
abjure and abandon the publication and composition of works such as
those to which you have alluded. Depend upon it they amuse _few_,
disgrace both _reader_ and _writer_, and benefit _none_. It will be my
wish to assist you, as far as my limited means will admit, to break such
a bondage. In your answer, inform me what sum you think would enable you
to extricate yourself from the hands of your employers, and to regain,
at least, temporary independence, and I shall be glad to contribute my
mite towards it. At present, I must conclude. Your name is not unknown
to me, and I regret, for your own sake, that you have ever lent it to
the works you mention. In saying this, I merely repeat your _own words_
in your letter to me, and have no wish whatever to say a single syllable
that may appear to insult your misfortunes. If I have, excuse me; it is
unintentional.

Yours, etc.,

BYRON.

[Footnote 1: Thomas Ashe (1770-1835) had already written books of travel
in North and South America, and two novels--'The Spirit of "The
Book'"(1811), and 'The Liberal Critic, or Henry Percy' (1812). He was a
man of more ability than character, but possessed little of either. His
'Memoirs' (1815) describe his literary undertakings, one at least of
which was of a blackmailing kind, and are interspersed with
protestations of his desire for independence, and of regrets for the
wretched stuff that dropped from his pen.

His first novel, 'The Spirit of "The Book,"' gained some success from
its subject. In 1806-7 Lady Douglas brought certain charges against the
Princess of Wales, which were answered on her behalf by Spencer
Perceval. The extraordinary secrecy with which this defence, called "The
Book," was printed, and its complete suppression, excited curiosity,
which was increased by the following advertisement in the 'Times' for
March 27, 1809:

  "'A Book'--Any Person having in their possession a COPY of a CERTAIN
  BOOK, printed by Mr. Edwards, in 1807, but 'never published',
  with W. Lindsell's Name as the Seller of the same on the title page,
  and will bring it to W. Lindsell, Bookseller, Wimpole-Street, will
  receive a handsome gratuity."

The subject-matter of this book, then unknown to the public, Ashe
professes to embody in 'The Spirit of "The Book;" or, Memoirs of
Caroline, Princess of Hasburgh, a Political and Amatory Romance' (3
vols., 1811). The letters, which purport to be written from Caroline to
Charlotte, and contain (vol. ii. pp. 152-181) an attack on the Lady
Jersey, who attended the princess, are absolutely dull, and scarcely
even indecent.

Ashe's 'Memoirs and Confessions' (3 vols., 1815) are dedicated to the
Duke of Northumberland and to Byron, to whom, in a preface written at
Havre, he acknowledges his "transcendent obligations."]

377.--To Professor Clarke [1].

Dec. 15, 1813.

Your very kind letter is the more agreeable, because, setting aside
talents, judgment, and the _laudari a laudato_, etc., you have been on
the spot; you have seen and described more of the East than any of your
predecessors--I need not say how ably and successfully; and (excuse the
bathos) you are one of the very few men who can pronounce how far my
costume (to use an affected but expressive word) is correct. As to
poesy, that is, as "men, gods, and columns," please to decide upon it;
but I am sure that I am anxious to have an observer's, particularly a
famous observer's, testimony on the fidelity of my manners and dresses;
and, as far as memory and an oriental twist in my imagination have
permitted, it has been my endeavour to present to the Franks, a sketch
of that of which you have and will present them a complete picture. It
was with this notion, that I felt compelled to make my hero and heroine
relatives, as you well know that none else could there obtain that
degree of intercourse leading to genuine affection; I had nearly made
them rather too much akin to each other; and though the wild passions of
the East, and some great examples in Alfieri, Ford, and Schiller (to
stop short of antiquity), might have pleaded in favour of a copyist, yet
the time and the north (not Frederic, but our climate) induced me to
alter their consanguinity and confine them to cousinship. I also wished
to try my hand on a female character in Zuleika, and have endeavoured,
as far as the grossness of our masculine ideas will allow, to preserve
her purity without impairing the ardour of her attachment.

As to criticism, I have been reviewed about a hundred and fifty
times--praised and abused. I will not say that I am become indifferent
to either eulogy or condemnation, but for some years at least I have
felt grateful for the former, and have never attempted to answer the
latter. For success equal to the first efforts, I had and have no hope;
the novelty was over, and the "Bride," like all other brides, must
suffer or rejoice for and with her husband. By the bye, I have used
"bride" Turkishly, as affianced, not married; and so far it is an
English bull, which, I trust, will be at least a comfort to all
Hibernians not bigotted to monopoly. You are good enough to mention your
quotations in your third volume. I shall not only be indebted to it for
a renewal of the high gratification received from the two first, but for
preserving my relics embalmed in your own spices, and ensuring me
readers to whom I could not otherwise have aspired.

I called on you, as bounden by duty and inclination, when last in your
neighbourhood; but I shall always take my chance; you surely would not
have me inflict upon you a formal annunciation; I am proud of your
friendship, but not so fond of myself as to break in upon your better
avocations. I trust that Mrs. Clarke is well; I have never had the
honour of presentation, but I have heard so much of her in many
quarters, that any notice she is pleased to take of my productions is
not less gratifying than my thanks are sincere, both to her and you; by
all accounts I may safely congratulate you on the possession of "a
bride" whose mental and personal accomplishments are more than poetical.

P. S.--Murray has sent, or will send, a double copy of the _Bride_ and
_Giaour_; in the last one, some lengthy additions; pray accept them,
according to old custom, "from the author" to one of his better
brethren. Your Persian, or any memorial, will be a most agreeable, and
it is my fault if not an useful present. I trust your third will be out
before I sail next month; can I say or do anything for you in the
Levant? I am now in all the agonies of equipment, and full of schemes,
some impracticable, and most of them improbable; but I mean to fly
"freely to the green earth's end," [2] though not quite so fast as
Milton´s sprite.

P. S. 2nd.--I have so many things to say.--I want to show you Lord
Sligo's letter to me detailing, as he heard them on the spot, the
Athenian account of our adventure (a personal one), which certainly
first suggested to me the story of _The Giaour_. It was a strange and
not a very long story, and his report of the reports (he arrived just
after my departure, and I did not know till last summer that he knew
anything of the matter) is not very far from the truth. Don't be
alarmed. There was nothing that led further than to the water's edge;
but one part (as is often the case in life) was more singular than any
of the _Giaour's_ adventures. I never have, and never should have,
alluded to it on my own authority, from respect to the ancient proverb
on Travellers.

[Footnote 1: Dr. Clark, in October, 1814, was a candidate for the
Professorship of Anatomy, and Byron went to Cambridge to vote for his
friend. Writing to Miss Tayler, Hodgson ('Memoir', vol. i. p. 292) adds
a postscript:

  "I open my letter to say that when Lord Byron went to give his vote
  just now in the Senate House, the young men burst out into the most
  rapturous applause."

The next day he writes again:

  "I should add that as I was going to vote I met him coming away, and
  presently saw that something had happened, by his extreme paleness and
  agitation. Dr. Clark, who was with him, told me the cause, and I
  returned with B. to my room. There I begged him to sit down and write
  a letter and communicate this event, which he did not feel up to, but
  wished 'I' would. So down I sate, and commenced my acquaintance
  with Miss Milbanke by writing her an account of this most pleasing
  event, which, although nothing at Oxford, is here very unusual indeed."

The following was Miss Milbanke's answer ('ibid'., pp. 296, 297), dated,
"Seaham, November 25, 1814:"

  "Dear Sir,--It will be easier for you to imagine than for me to
  express the pleasure which your very kind letter has given me. Not
  only on account of its gratifying intelligence, but also as
  introductory to an acquaintance which I have been taught to value, and
  have sincerely desired. Allow me to consider Lord Byron's friend as
  not 'a stranger,' and accept, with my sincerest thanks, my best wishes
  for your own happiness.

  "I am, dear sir, your faithful servant,

  "A. I. MlLBANKE." ]

[Footnote 2: The Spirit in Milton´s 'Comus, a Mask' (lines 1012, 1013),
says:

  "I can fly, or I can run
  Quickly to the green earth´s end."]

378.--To Leigh Hunt.

Dec. 22, 1813.

My Dear Sir,--I am indeed "in your debt,"--and, what is still worse, am
obliged to follow _royal_ example (he has just apprised _his_ creditors
that they must wait till the next meeting), and intreat your indulgence
for, I hope, a very short time. The nearest relation and almost the only
friend I possess, has been in London for a week, and leaves it tomorrow
with me for her own residence. I return immediately; but we meet so
seldom, and are so _minuted_ when we meet at all, that I give up all
engagements till _now_, without reluctance. On my return, I must see you
to console myself for my past disappointment. I should feel highly
honoured in Mr. B.'s permission to make his acquaintance, and _there_
you are in _my_ debt; for it is a promise of last summer which I still
hope to see performed. Yesterday I had a letter from Moore; you have
probably heard from him lately; but if not, you will be glad to learn
that he is the same in heart, head, and health.

379.--To John Murray.

December 27, 1813.

Lord Holland is laid up with the gout, and would feel very much obliged
if you could obtain, and send as soon as possible, Madame D'Arblay's (or
even Miss Edgeworth's) new work. I know they are not out; but it is
perhaps possible for your _Majesty_ to command what we cannot with much
suing purchase, as yet. I need not say that when you are able or willing
to confer the same favour on me, I shall be obliged. I would almost fall
sick myself to get at Madame D'Arblay's writings.

P.S.--You were talking to-day of the American E'n of a certain
unquenchable memorial of my younger days [1]. As it can't be helped now,
I own I have some curiosity to see a copy of transatlantic typography.
This you will perhaps obtain, and one for yourself; but I must beg that
you will not _import more_, because, _seriously_, I _do wish_ to have
that thing forgotten as much as it has been forgiven.

If you send to the 'Globe' E'r, say that I want neither excuse nor
contradiction, but merely a discontinuance of a most ill-grounded
charge. I never was consistent in any thing but my politics; and as my
redemption depends on that solitary virtue, it is murder to carry away
my last anchor.

[Footnote 1: 'English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers'.]

CHAPTER VIII.

JOURNAL: NOVEMBER 14, 1813--APRIL 19, 1814.

If this had been begun ten years ago, and faithfully kept!!!--heigho!
there are too many things I wish never to have remembered, as it is.
Well,--I have had my share of what are called the pleasures of this
life, and have seen more of the European and Asiatic world than I have
made a good use of. They say "Virtue is its own reward,"--it certainly
should be paid well for its trouble. At five-and-twenty, when the better
part of life is over, one should be _something_;--and what am I? nothing
but five-and-twenty--and the odd months. What have I seen? the same man
all over the world,--ay, and woman too. Give _me_ a Mussulman who never
asks questions, and a she of the same race who saves one the trouble of
putting them. But for this same plague--yellow fever--and Newstead
delay, I should have been by this time a second time close to the
Euxine. If I can overcome the last, I don't so much mind your
pestilence; and, at any rate, the spring shall see me there,--provided I
neither marry myself, nor unmarry any one else in the interval. I wish
one was--I don't know what I wish. It is odd I never set myself
seriously to wishing without attaining it--and repenting. I begin to
believe with the good old Magi, that one should only pray for the
nation, and not for the individual;--but, on my principle, this would
not be very patriotic.

No more reflections.--Let me see--last night I finished "Zuleika," my
second Turkish Tale. I believe the composition of it kept me alive--for
it was written to drive my thoughts from the recollection of:

  "Dear sacred name, rest ever unreveal'd." [1]

At least, even here, my hand would tremble to write it. This afternoon I
have burnt the scenes of my commenced comedy. I have some idea of
expectorating a romance, or rather a tale in prose;--but what romance
could equal the events:

"quæque ipse......vidi,
Et quorum pars magna fui." [2]

To-day Henry Byron [3] called on me with my little cousin Eliza. She
will grow up a beauty and a plague; but, in the mean time, it is the
prettiest child! dark eyes and eyelashes, black and long as the wing of
a raven. I think she is prettier even than my niece, Georgina,--yet I
don't like to think so neither: and though older, she is not so clever.

Dallas called before I was up, so we did not meet. Lewis [4], too,--who
seems out of humour with every thing.

What can be the matter? he is not married--has he lost his own mistress,
or any other person's wife? Hodgson, too, came. He is going to be
married, and he is the kind of man who will be the happier. He has
talent, cheerfulness, every thing that can make him a pleasing
companion; and his intended is handsome and young, and all that. But I
never see any one much improved by matrimony. All my coupled
contemporaries are bald and discontented. W[ordsworth] and S[outhey]
have both lost their hair and good humour; and the last of the two had a
good deal to lose. But it don't much signify what falls _off_ a man's
temples in that state.

Mem. I must get a toy to-morrow for Eliza, and send the device for the
seals of myself and----Mem. too, to call on the Stael and Lady Holland
to-morrow, and on----, who has advised me (without seeing it, by the
by) not to publish "Zuleika;" [5] I believe he is right, but experience
might have taught him that not to print is _physically_ impossible. No
one has seen it but Hodgson and Mr. Gifford. I never in my life _read_ a
composition, save to Hodgson, as he pays me in kind. It is a horrible
thing to do too frequently;--better print, and they who like may read,
and if they don't like, you have the satisfaction of knowing that they
have, at least, _purchased_ the right of saying so.

I have declined presenting the Debtors' Petition [6], being sick of
parliamentary mummeries. I have spoken thrice; but I doubt my ever
becoming an orator. My first was liked; the second and third--I don't
know whether they succeeded or not. I have never yet set to it _con
amore_;--one must have some excuse to one's self for laziness, or
inability, or both, and this is mine. "Company, villanous company, hath
been the spoil of me;" [7]--and then, I "have drunk medicines," not to
make me love others, but certainly enough to hate myself.

Two nights ago I saw the tigers sup at Exeter 'Change. Except Veli
Pacha's lion in the Morea,--who followed the Arab keeper like a
dog,--the fondness of the hyæna for her keeper amused me most. Such a
conversazione!--There was a "hippopotamus," like Lord Liverpool in the
face; and the "Ursine Sloth" had the very voice and manner of my
valet--but the tiger talked too much. The elephant took and gave me my
money again--took off my hat--opened a door--_trunked_ a whip--and
behaved so well, that I wish he was my butler. The handsomest animal on
earth is one of the panthers; but the poor antelopes were dead. I should
hate to see one _here:_--the sight of the _camel_ made me pine again
for Asia Minor. _"Oh quando te aspiciam?_"

[Footnote 1:

  "Dear fatal name! rest ever unrevealed,
  Nor pass these lips in holy silence sealed."

Pope's 'Eloisa to Abelard', lines 9, 10.]

[Footnote 2: Virgil, 'Æneid', ii. 5:

  ". ... quoeque ipse miserrima vidi
  Et quorum pars magna fui."]

[Footnote 3: The Rev. Henry Byron, second son of the Rev. and Hon.
Richard Byron, and nephew of William, fifth Lord Byron, died in 1821.
His daughter Eliza married, in 1830, George Rochford Clarke. Byron's
"niece Georgina" was the daughter of Mrs. Leigh.]

[Footnote 4: Matthew Gregory Lewis (1775-1818), intended by his father
for the diplomatic service, was educated at Westminster and Christ
Church, Weimar, and Paris. He soon showed his taste for literature. At
the age of seventeen he had translated a play from the French, and
written a farce, a comedy called 'The East Indian' (acted at Drury Lane,
April 22, 1799), "two volumes of a novel, two of a romance, besides
numerous poems" ('Life, etc., of M. G. Lewis', vol. i. p. 70). In 1794
he was attached to the British Embassy at the Hague. There, stimulated
('ibid'., vol. i. p. 123) by reading Mrs. Radcliffe's 'Mysteries of
Udolpho', he wrote 'Ambrosio, or the Monk'. The book, published in 1795,
made him famous in fashionable society, and decided his career. Though
he sat in Parliament for Hindon from 1796 to 1802, he took no part in
politics, but devoted himself to literature.

The moral and outline of 'The Monk' are taken, as Lewis says in a letter
to his father ('Life, etc.', vol. i. pp. 154-158), and as was pointed
out in the 'Monthly Review' for August, 1797, from Addison's "Santon
Barsisa" in the 'Guardian' (No. 148). The book was severely criticized
on the score of immorality. Mathias ('Pursuits of Literature', Dialogue
iv.) attacks Lewis, whom he compares to John Cleland, whose 'Memoirs of
a Woman of Pleasure' came under the notice of the law courts:

  "Another Cleland see in Lewis rise.
  Why sleep the ministers of truth and law?"

An injunction was, in fact, moved for against the book; but the
proceedings dropped.

Lewis had a remarkable gift of catching the popular taste of the day,
both in his tales of horror and mystery, and in his ballads. In the
latter he was the precursor of Scott. Many of his songs were sung to
music of his own composition. His 'Tales of Terror' (1799) were
dedicated to Lady Charlotte Campbell, afterwards Bury, with whom he was
in love. To his 'Tales of Wonder' (1801) Scott, Southey, and others
contributed. His most successful plays were 'The Castle Spectre' (Drury
Lane, December 14, 1797), and 'Timour the Tartar' (Covent Garden, April
29, 1811).

In 1812, by the death of his father, "the Monk" became a rich man, and
the owner of plantations in the West Indies. He paid two visits to his
property, in 1815-16 and 1817-18. On the voyage home from the last visit
he died of yellow fever, and was buried at sea. His 'Journal of a West
Indian Proprietor', published in 1834, is written in sterling English,
with much quiet humour, and a graphic power of very high order.

Among his 'Detached Thoughts' Byron has the following notes on Lewis:

  "Sheridan was one day offered a bet by M. G. Lewis: 'I will bet you,
  Mr. Sheridan, a very large sum--I will bet you what you owe me as
  Manager, for my 'Castle Spectre'.'

  "'I never make _large bets_,' said Sheridan, 'but I will lay you a
  _very small_ one. I will bet you _what it is_ WORTH!'"

  "Lewis, though a kind man, hated Sheridan, and we had some words upon
  that score when in Switzerland, in 1816. Lewis afterwards sent me the
  following epigram upon Sheridan from Saint Maurice:

    "'For worst abuse of finest parts
    Was Misophil begotten;
    There might indeed be _blacker_ hearts,
    But none could be more _rotten_.'"

  Lewis at Oatlands was observed one morning to have his eyes red, and
  his air sentimental; being asked why? he replied 'that when people
  said anything 'kind' to him, it affected him deeply, and just now the
  Duchess had said something so kind to him'--here tears began to flow
  again. 'Never mind, Lewis,' said Col. Armstrong to him, 'never
  mind--don't cry, she could not mean it'.'

  "Lewis was a good man--a clever man, but a bore--a damned bore, one
  may say. My only revenge or consolation used to be setting him by the
  ears with some vivacious person who hated bores especially--Me. de
  Staël or Hobhouse, for example. But I liked Lewis; he was a Jewel of a
  Man had he been better set, I don't mean _personally_, but less
  _tiresome_, for he was tedious, as well as contradictory to everything
  and everybody. Being short-sighted, when we used to ride out together
  near the Brenta in the twilight in summer, he made me go _before_ to
  pilot him. I am absent at times, especially towards evening, and the
  consequence of this pilotage was some narrow escapes to the Monk on
  horseback. Once I led him into a ditch, over which I had passed as
  usual, forgetting to warn my convoy; once I led him nearly into the
  river instead of on the 'moveable' bridge which _in_commodes