THE / WORKS OF LORD BYRON, IN VERSE AND PROSE. THE WORKS OF LORD BYRON; IN VERSE AND PROSE, HIS LETTERS, JOURNALS, ETC. 7 A SKETCH OF HIS LIFE. NEW-YORK : ALEXANDER V. BLAKE, PUBLISHER. SOLD BY COLLINS, KEEBE, Jt CO. NEW-YORK : OTIS, BROADEES, * CO. BOSTON; THOMAS, COWPERTHWArr, & CO., PHILADELPHIA. 1839. .fa 350 'A Gift Mrs. Ada Splnks Aug. 16 1934 PUBLISHER'S ADVERTISEMENT. The Works of Lord Byron to be found in this edition, comprising the whole of his Poems, Letters, Journals, Etc. have been collected and arranged, and a Memoir added, by FITZ GREEN HALLECK, ESQ.. The Poetical Works of Lord Byron have been published in a variety of forms — but at no time, or in any country, has a uniform edition of his Prose and Poetical Works been attempted before the present. The edition now publishing in London, by Murray, contains so much of Byron's Prose writing as is included in the Life by Moore. — In the American edition there is a great number of the Letters of Byron not in the English copy, including Letters to his mother. There is also in this edition a large collection of Poems not in any previons American one ; many blanks are filled up, and explanatory notes added, which will be found of essential service to the reader. The present, therefore, is em- phatically the first complete edition of the Poetical and Prose Works of Lord Byron. The Head of Byron, engraved for this edition, is from a painting by an American artist, and was considered by Byron and his friends as the best ever taken. New-York, Jan. 1834. , CONTENTS. LETTERS, ETC. LIFE LETTERS. I. to Miss Pigot . , II. to Mr. Pigot . Til. to Miss Pigot . IV. to Mr. Pigot . V. to Mr. Pigot VI. to Mr. Pigot . VII. to Mr. Pigot VIII. to Miss Pigot IX. to Ihe Earl of Clare . X. to Mr. Pigot . XI. to Mr. William Bankes XII. to Mr. William Bankes XIII. to Mr. Falkner . XIV. to Mr. Pigot . XV. to Miss Pigot XVI. to Miss Pigot XVII. to Miss Pigot . XVIII. to Miss Pigot XIX. to Miss Pigot . XX. to Miss Pigot XXI. to Miss Pigot . XXII. to Mr. Dallas XXIII. to Mr. Dallas . XXIV. to Mr. Henry Drury XXV. to Mr. Harness . XXVI. to Mr. Harness XXVII. to Mr Becher . XXVIII. to Mr. Becher XXIX. to Mr. Jackson . XXX to Mr. Jackson XXXI. to Mr. Jackson . XXXII. to Mr. Becher XXXIII. to the Hon. Mrs. Byron XXXIV. to Mrs. Byron XXXV. to Mr. Hodgson XXXVI. to R. C. Dallas, Esq. XXXVII. to R. C. Dallas, Esq. XXXVIII. to Mrs. Byron XXXIX. to Mr. Harness XL. to R. C. Dallas. Esq. XLI. to Mr. William Bankes XLII. to Mrs. Byron XUII. to Mr. Henry Drury XLIV. to Mr. Hodgson XI. V. to Mr. Hodgson XLVI. to Mr. Hodgson XI. VII. to the Hon. Mrs. Byron XLVIII. to Mr. Rushton XLIX. to the Hon. Mrs. Byron L. to Mrs. Byron . LI. to Mrs. Byron LII. to the Hon. Mrs. Byron LIII. to the Hon. Mrs. Byron LIV Ic the Hon. Mn. Byron 1 1 1 2 2 2 2 3 8 3 3 4 4 4 " 4 6 5 6 6 7 7 8 8 8 9 9 9 10 10 10 10 10 II 11 11 11 II 1.' u 13 13 13 1! 1.1 14 II II 16 16 10 1« 18 18 19 LETTERS. LV. to Mr. Henry Drury . . 19 LVI. to Mr. Hodgson 20 LVII. to the Hon. Mrs. Byron . 20 LVIII. to Mr. Henry Drury 21 LIX. to the Hon. Mrs. Byron . 21 LX. to Mrs. Byron 22 LXI. to Mrs. Byron . 23 LXII. to the Hon. Mrs. Byron . 23 LXIII. to Mr. Hodgson . 23 LXIV. to Mrs. Byron 24 LXV. to Mrs. Byron . . 25 LXVI. to Mrs. Byron 25 LXVII. to Mr. Hodgson . . 25 LXVIII. to Mr. Dallas 26 LXIX. to Mr. Henry Drury . . 26 LXX. to the Hon. Mrs. Byron . 26 LXXI. to Dr. Pigot . 27 LXXII. to Mr. Scrope Davies 27 LXX1II. to Bolton, Esq. . . 27 LXXIV. to Mr. Bolton 28 LXXV. to Mr. Bolton . . 28 LXXVI. to Mr. Dallas 28 LXXVII. to Mr. Hodgson . 28 LXXVIII. to Mr. Dallas 29 LXXIX. to Mr. Murray . . 29 LXXX. to Mr. Dallas 29 LXXXI. to Mr. Dallas. . . SO LXXXII. to R. C. Dallas, Esq. 30 LXXXIII. to Mr. Murray . . 30 LXXXIV. to Mr. Dallas 31 LXXXV. to R. C. Dallas, Esq. . 31 LXXXVI. to Mr. Murray 31 LXXXVII. to R. C. Dallas, Esq. . . 32 LXXXVIII. to R. C. Dallas, Esq. 32 LXXXIX. to Mr. Murray . . 32 XC. to Mr. Dallas 32 XCI. to R. C. Dallas, Esq. . 32 XCII. to Mr. Dallas 32 XCIII. to Mr. Dallas . S3 XCIV. to R. C. Dallas, Esq. S3 XCV. to R. C. Dallas, Esq. . 33 XCVI. to Mr. Dallas 34 XCVII. to Mr. Hodgson . So XCVIII. to R. C. Dallas, Esq. 35 XCIX. to R. C. Dallas, Esq. . S6 C. to R. C. Dallas, Esq. 36 CI. to R. C. Dallas, Esq. 36 CII. to Miss Pigot 36 CIII. Mr. Moore to Lord Byron . S6 CIV. to Mr. Moore 36 CV. to Mr. Moore . 37 CVI. to Mr. Moore . 37 CVII. to Mr. Moore . 37 CVI1I. to Mr. Harness 37 CIX. to Mr. Harness 38 CX. to Mr. Hodgson 38 mi CONTENTS. LETTERS CXI. io Mr. Hodgson . CXII. to Mr. Harness CXIII. to Mr. Moore CXIV. to Mr. Moore CXV. to Robert Rushton CXVI. to Robert Rusllton . CXV'II. to Mr. Hodgson . CXVIII. to Master John Cowell CXIX. to Mr. Rogers. . CXX. to Lord Holland CXXI. to Mr. Hodgson . CXX1I. to Lord Holland • CXXIH. to Mr, William Bankes CXX1V. to Mr. William Bankes CXXV. to Lord Holland . CXXVI. to Sir Walter Scott, Bart. CXXVII. to Lord Holland . CXXVIII. to Lord Holland CXXIX. to Lord Holland . CXXX. to Lord Holland CXXXI. to Lord Holland . CXXXII. to Lord Holland CXXXIII. to Lord Holland . CXXXI V. to Lord Holland CXXXV. to Lord Holland . CXXXVI. to Lord Holland CXXXVII. to Lord Holland . CXXXVIII. to Lord Holland CXXXIX. to Lord Holland .. CXL. to Lord Holland , CXLI. to Mr. Murray . CXLII. to Mr. Murray CXLIII. to Mr. William Bankes CXLIV. to Mr. Murray CXLV. to Mr. Murray . CXLVI. to Lord Holland CXLV1I. to Mr. Murray . CXLVIII. to Mr. Murray CXLIX. to Mr. Murray . CL. to Mr. Murray CLI. to Mr. William Bankes CLII. to Mr. Murray CLIH. to Mr. Rogers CLIV. to Mr. Murray CLV. to Mr. Murray . CLVI. to Mr. Murray CLVII. to Mr. Murray . CLVIII. to W. Gifford, Esq. CLIX. to Mr. Moore . . CLX. to Mr. Moore CLXI. to Mr. Moore CLXII. to"Mr. Moore CLXIII. to Mr. Moore CI. XIV. to Mr. Moore . CLXV. to Mr. Crokor CLXVI. to Mr. Murray CLXVII. to Mr. Murray . CLXVIII. to Mr. Murray CLXIX. to Mr. Moore CLXX to Mr. Moore CLX XI. to Mr. Moore CLXXU. to Mr. Moore . CLXX1II. to Mr. Moore CLXXIV. to Mr. Moore . CLXXV. to Mr. Moore CLXX VI. to Mr. Moore . CLXXVII. to Mr. Moore CLXXV1I1. to Leigh Hunt CLXXIX. to Mr. Moore CLXXX. to Mr. Murray CLXXXI. to Mr. Giftord CLXXXII. to Mr. Murray CLXXXIII. to Mr Murray . LETTERS n CLXXX1V. to Mr. Murray 39 CLXXXV. to Mr. Murray . S9 CLXXXVI. to Mr. Murray 40 CLXXXVII. to Mr. Murray . 4(1 CLXXX VIII. to Mr. Murray ■111 CLXXXIX. to Mr. Ashe 40 CXC. to Mr. Ashe . ■in CXCI. to Mr. Gall 41 CXCII. to Mr. Leigh Hunt . •n CXCIN. to Mr. Merivale ii CXC IV. to Mr. Murrav 42 CXCV. to Mr. Moore 42 CXCVI. to Mr. Moore . 41 CXCVIL to Mr. Murrav . .1.1 CXCVIU. to Mr. Murray 43 CXCIX. to Mr. Murray . •II CC. to Mr. Murray •11 CCI. to Mr. Hodgson . 4-1 CCII. to Mr. Moore 11 CCIII. to Mr. Hunt 11 CCIV. to Mr. Murrav r, CCV. to Mr. Rogers . ' . IS CCVI. to Mr. Rogers 45 CCVH. to Mr. Moore 45 CCVIIL to Mr. Dallas 46 CCIX. to * * * * . 46 CCX. to Mr. Moore . 46 CCXL to W * * W * * Esq. •17 CCXII. to M. Moore . -17 CCXIII. to Mr. Moore •17 CCX1V. to Mr. Murray 47 CC XV. to Mr. Murray . •is CCXVI. to Mr. Moore . 48 CCXVII. to Mr. Moore 48 CCXVIII. to Mr. Murray 48 CCXIX. to Mr. Murray . 49 CCXX. to Mr. Murray •1!' CCXXI. to Mr. Murray . 49 CI 'XXII. to Mr. Murray 49 CCXXIII. to Mr. Murray . SO CCXXIV. to Mr. Moore . 50 CCXXV. to Mr. Moore 50 CCXXVI. to Mr. Moore . SO CCXXVII. to Mr. Rogers . 51 CCXXVIII. to Mr. Rogers 51 CCXXIX. to Mr. Moore 51 CCXXX. lo Mr. Moore . 51 CCXXXI. to Mr. Murray . 51 CCXXXIl. to Mr. Murray 52 CCXXXIII. to Mr. Murray . 5-2 CCXXXIV. to Mr. Moore . 52 CCXXXV. to Mr. Murray . 53 CCXXXVI. to Mr. Murray ;-,:'. CCXXXVII. to Mr. Moore .'.'•1 CCXX XV111. to Mr. Moore . 5-1 CCXXXIX. to Mr. Murrav . 51 CCXL. to Mr. Murray 54 CCXI.I. to Mr. Moore 54 CCXLI1. to Mr. Moots . 55 CCX1.111. to Mr. Moore . . i 56 ('< X1.1V. to the countess of • * * . ', 56 CCXLV. to Mr. Moore . . ; 66 CCXLVI. to Mr. Hunt . 57 CCXLVII. to Mr. Moore 57 CCXLVIII. to Mr. Hcnrv Drury 57 CCXLIX. to Mr. Cowell 67 CCL. to Mr. Moore 58 CCLI. to Mr. Murray . 58 CCLIl. to Mr. Murray 59 CCLIII. to Mr. Nathan . 59 ( 'CI. IV. to Mr. Moore . 59 CCLV. to Mr. Moore 60 CCLV1. to Mr. Moore . . . CONTENTS. IX PACB P*GB, LETTERS LETTERS CCLVII. to Mr. Murray . . 82 CCCXXX. to Mr. Mooro . . . Ill CCLVII1. to Mr. Moore 82 CCCXXXI. to Mr. Murray 112 CCL1X. to Mr. Moore . . 82 CCCXXXII. to Mr. Murray . 11? CCLX. to Mr. Moore 83 CCCXXXIII. to Mr. Murray . . 113 CCLXI. to Mr. Moore . . 83 CCCXXXIV. to Mr. Murray . 113 CCLXII. to Mr. Moore 83 CCCXXXV. to Mr. Murray . . 114 CCLXI II. to Mr. Moore . . 84 CCCXXXVI. to Mr. Moore . . . 114 CCLX1V. to Mr. Coleridge . 84 CCCXXXVII. to Mr. Murray . 114 CCLXV. to Mr. Murray . . 84 CCCXXXVIII. to Mr. Murray 115 CCLXVI. to Mr. Moore 85 CCCXXXIX. to Mr. Murray 116 CCLXVII. to Mr. Murray . . 85 CCCXL. to Mr. Murray . . 116 CCLXVIII. to Mr. Hunt '. 85 CCCXLI. to Mr. Murray . 116 CCLXIX. to Mr. Moore . . 85 CCCXLII. to Mr. Murray 116 CCLXX. to !NIr. Moore 86 CCCXLIII. to Mr. Murray . 117 CCLXX1. to Mr. Sotheby . . 87 CCCXLIV. to Mr. Murray 117 CCLXXII. to Mr. Sotheby 87 CCCXLV. to Mr. Murray . 117 CCLXXIII. to Mr. Taylor . . 87 CCCXLVI. to Mr. Moore 118 CCLXX1V. to Mr. Murray 87 CCCXL VII. to Mr. Murray . 118 CCLXXV. to Mr. Murray . . 87 CCCXL VIII. to Mr. Murray . . 118 CCLXXVI. to Mr. Hunt . 87 CCCXLIX. to Mr. Murray . 119 CCLXXVtI. to Mr. Hunt . 88 CCCL. to Mr. Murray 119 CCLXXVIII. to Mr. Hunt . 8S CCCLI. to Mr. Murray . 119 CCLXXIX. to Mr. Moore . . 88 CCCLII. to Mr. Murray 120 CCLXXX. to Mr. Hunt . 89 CCCLIII. to Mr. Hoppner 121 CCLXXXI. to Mr. Moore . . 89 CCCLIV. to Mr. Murray 121 CCLXXXII. to Mr. Moore 90 CCCLV. to Mr. Murray . 121 CCLXXXIII. to Mr. Murray . . 90 CCCLVI. to Mr. Murray 121 CCLXXXIV. to Mr. Murray 90 CCCLVII. to Mr. Murray . 122 CCLXXXV. to Mr. Murray . . 90 CCCLVIII. to Mr. Murray 123 CCLXXXVI. to Mr. Moore 91 CCCLIX. to Mr. Murray . 123 OCLXXXVII. to Mr. Hunt . . 91 CCCLX. to Mr. Hoppner . 123 CCLXXXVIII. to Mr. Rogers 91 CCCLXI. to Mr. Murray . 124 CCLXXXIX. to Mr. Moore . . 91 CCCXLII. to Mr. Murray 124 CCXC. to Mr. Hunt . 92 CCCLXIII. to Mr. Murray . 124 CCXC1. to Mr. Moore . . 92 CCCLXIV. to Mr. Moore 124 CCXCH. to Mr. Murray 93 CCCLXV. to Mr. Murray . 125 CCXCIII. to Mr. Rogers . . 93 CCCLXVI. to Mr. Hoppner . • 125 CCXCIV. to Mr. Murray 93 CCCLXVII. to Mr. Rogers. 126 CCXCV. to Mr. Murray . . 93 CCCLXVIII. to Mr. Moore . . 126 CCXCVl. to Mr. Murray 94 CCCLXIX. to Mr. Murray 127 CCXCVII. to Mr. Murray . . 94 CCCLXX. to Mr. Murray . . . 127 CCXCVIII. to Mr. Rogers 94 CCCLX XI to Mr. Murray 127 CCXC1X. to Mr. Murray . . 94 CCCLXXI1. to Mr. Murray . 128 CCC. to Mr. Murray 94 CCCLXXIII to Mr. Murray 123 CCCI. to Mr. Rogers . . 95 CCCLXXIV to Mr. Moore . . 128 CCCI1. to Mr. Murray 95 CCCLXXV to * * * * . 129 CCC I II. to Mr. Murray . . 96 CCCLXXVI. to Mr. Murray . . 131 CCCIV. to Mr. Murray 96 cccLxxvn. to Mr. Murray 131 CCCV. to Mr. Murray . . 96 cccLxxvm. to Mr. Murray . 131 CCCVI. to Mr. Murray 96 CCOI.XXIX. to Mr. Murray 132 CCCVI1. to Mr. Murray 97 CCCI.XXX. to Capt. Basil Hall . 1J2 CCCVIII. to Mr. Moore . . 97 CCCLXXXI in Mr. Moore 132 CCCIX. to Mr. Moore 98 CCCLXXXII. to Mr. Murray . . 133 CCCX. to Mr. Moore . . 99 CCCLXXXIII. to Mr. Murray 133 CCCXI. to Mr. Murray 101 CCCLXXXIV. to Mr. Murray . 133 CCCXII. to Mr. Murray . . . 101 CCCLXXXV. to Mr. Murray 134 CCCXIII. to Mr. Murray . 102 CCCLXX XV I. to Mr. Murray . IS4 . CCCXIV. to Mr. Murray . . 102 CCCLXXXVII. to the Editor of Galignani s CCCXV. to Mr. Murray . 102 Messenger 134 1 ' ''XVI. to Mr. Moore . 103 cccLxxxvm. to Mr. Murray . 135 ( i'CXVII. to Mr. Murray . 104 CCCLXXXIX. to Mr. Murray 135 C<'( 'XVIII. to Mr. Murray . . 105 CCCXC. to Mr. Murray . 136 CCCXIX. to Mr. Murray . 105 CCCXCI. to Mr. Hoppner 136 CCCXX. to Mr. Moore . . 106 CCCXC1I. to Mr. Hoppner 136 CCCXXl. to Mr. Murray . 106 CCCXCIII. to Mr. Murray 137 CCCXXII. to Mr. Murray . . 107 CCCXCIV. to Mr. Hoppner 137 CCCXXIII. to Mr. Moore . 107 CCCXC V. to Mr. Murray 138 CCCXXIV. to Mr. Moore . . 108 CCCXC VI. to Mr. Hoppner 138 CCCXXV. to Mr. Murray 108 CCCXCVII. to Mr. Murray . . 139 CCC XXVI. to Mr. Moore . . 109 CCCXCVIH. to Mr. Murray . 139 CCCXXVII. to Mr. Murray . 110 CCCXCIX. to Mr. Murray . . 139 CCCXXVIII. to Mr. Rogers . . . 110 CCCC. to Mr. Murray . 140 C0CXX1X. to Mr. Murray . Ill CCCCI. to the Countess Guicciold 140 CONTENTS. LETTERS CCCCU. to Mr. Murray CCCCIU. to Mr. Murray CCCCIV. to Mr. Hoppner CCCGV. to Mr. Hoppner CCCCVI. to Mr. Hoppner CCCCVII. to Mr. Murray CCCCVIII. to Mr. Hoppner CCCC IX. to Mr. Murray CCCCX. to Mr. Bankes CCCC XL to Mr. Murray CCCCXH. to the Countess Guiccio! CCCCXIII. to the Countess Guicciol CCCCXIV. to Mr. Hoppner CCCCXV. to Mr. Murray CCCCXVI. to Mr. Hoppner CCCC XVir. to Mr. Moore . CCCCXVIII. to Mr. Hoppner CCCCXIX. to Mr. Hoppner CCCC XX. to Mr. Murray CCCCXXI. to Mr. Bankes CCCCXXH. to Mr. Murray CCCCXXIII. to Mr. Bankes CCCC XXIV. to Mr. Murray CCCCXXV. to Mr. Murray CCCCXXVI. to Mr. Murray CCCCXXVIt. to Mr. Murray CCCCXXVIH. to Mr. Murray CCCCXX1X. to Mr. Munav CCCCXXX. to Mr. Murray CCCCXXXI. to Mr. Hoppner CCCCXXX1I. to Mr. Murray CCCCXXXIH. to Mr. Murray CCCCX XXIV. to Mr. Hoppner CCCCXXXV. to Mr. Murray CCCCXXXVI. to Mr. Murray CCCCXXXVII. to Mr. Murray i;CCCXXXVni. to Mr. Murray . CCCCXXXIX. to Mr. Moore CCCC XL. to Mr. Hoppner CCCCXLI. to Mr. Moore CCCCXLII. to Mr. Murray CCCCXL1II. to Mr. Moore CCCCXLIV. to Mr. Moore CCCCXLV. to Mr. Murray CCCCXI.VI. 10 Mr. Murray CCCCXLVII. to Mr. Moore CCCCXI.VIII. to Mr. Murray CCCCXLIX. to Mr. Murray CCCCL. to Mr. Murray CCCCLI. to Mr. Murray CCCCLH. to Mr. Murray CCCCLIII. to Mr. Murray CCCCLIV. to Mr. Murray CCCCLV. to Mr. Murray CCCCLVl. to Mr. Murray CCCCLVII. to Mr. Murray CCCCLV1II. t... Mr. Murray CCCCHX. to Mr. Moore CCCCLX. to Mr. Murray CCCCLXI. to Mr. Murray CCCCLXII. to Mr. Moore CCCCLXI1I. to Mr. Murray CCCC!. XIV. to Mr. Murray CCCCI.XV. to Mr. Murray CCCCLXVI. to Mr. Murray CCCCLXVII. to Mr. Moore CCCCLXVHI. to Mr. Moore CCCCLXIX. to Mr. Moore Address to the Neapolitan government CCCCLXX to Mr. Moore CCCCLXXI. to Mr. Murrav CCCCI.XXII. to Mr. .Murrav . CCCCLXX11I. lo Mr Murray PAOE 140 141 141 142 142 143 143 143 144 144 145 145 145 145 146 146 147 147 147 148 148 149 149 150 150 150 150 150 151 151 151 152 152 152 153 154 154 154 155 155 155 156 156 157 157 158 158 158 158 158 159 159 160 160 161 161 162 162 163 163 163 164 161 hi., 166 167 167 167 168 168 169 169 170 LETTERS CCCCLXXIV. CCCCLXXV. CCCCLXXVI. CCCCLXXVII. CCCCLXXVIU. CCIVI.XXIX. CCCCLXXX. CCCCLXXXL CCCCLXXXII. CCCCLXXXIII. CCCCLXXXIV. CCCCLXXXV. CCCCLXXXVL CCCCLXXXVH. CCCCLXXXVIII. CCCCLXX XIX. CCCCXC. CCCCXCI. CCCCXCIL CCCCXCIH. CCCCXCIV. CCCCXCV. CCCCXCVt. CCCCXCVII. CCCCXC VII I. CCCCXC1X. D. DL 1)11. Dili. DIV. DV. DVI. DVH. DVI 1 1. DIX DX. DXI. DXII. DX1II. DXIV. DXV. DXVI. DXVII. DXVIII. DXIX. nxx. DXXI. DXX1L DXXIH. DXX1V. DXXV. DXXVI. DXXVII. DXXVIII. DXXIX. DXXX. DXXXI. DXXXII. DXXXIII. DXXXIV. DXXXV. DXXXVI. DXXXV1I. DXXXVIII. DXXXI X. DXI.. nxi.i. DXLH. DXI. III. nxi.iv. DXLV. DXLV1 to Mr. Murray . to Mr. Moore to Mr. Murray . lo Mr. Murray to Mr. Alurray . to Mr. Murray to Mr. Moore . to Mr. Murray to Mr. Perry . U Mr. Murray to Mr. Hoppner lo Mr. Murray to Mr. Shelley . lo Mr. Murray to Mr. Moore . to Mr. Moore to Mr. Murray . to Mr. Hoppner |., Mr. Murray . to Mr. Moore to Mr. Murray . to the Countess Guiccioli to Mr. Moore . . to Mr. Hoppner lo Mr. Murray to Mr. Murray . lo Mr. Murray to Mr. Hoppner to Mr. Moore to Mr. Moore . lo Mr. Moore to Mr. Mum) to Mr. Murra) tr Mr. Murrav to Mr. Hoppner to Mr. Murray to Mr. Moore to Mr. Murray to Mr. Murray to Mr. Murray . lo Mr. Moore lo Mr. Murray lo Mr. Murray to Mr. Moore to Mr. Murray to Mr. Murray lo Mr. M.iorc; to Mr. Moore . to Mr. Moore to Mr. Murray lo Mr. Murray to Mr. Moore . to Mr. Murray lo Mr. Moon- . to Mr. Moore to Mr. Moore to Mr. Murray lo .Mr. Murray to Mr. Rogers to Mr. Moore . to Mr. M.o, .iv lo Mr. Murray to Mr. Mo >r,' to All . Sheppard to Mr. Murray lo Mr. Murray lo Mr. M to Mr. Sh.ll.y . to Mr. Moore to Sir Waller Scott. Hart. in Douglaa Kumairil to Mr. Murray to Mr Mooro CONTENTS. LETTERS DXLVII. DXLVIII. DXLIX. DL. DLL DLII. DLIII. DLIV. DLV. DLV1. DLTII. DLVIII. DLIX. DLX. DLXL DLXIL DLXIII. DLXIV. DLXV. DLXV1. DLXVII. DLXVHL DLXIX. DLXX. DLXXI. DLXXII. DLXXIH. DLXXIV. DLXXV. DLXXVI. DLXXVTL DLXXVIII. DLXXIX. DLXXX. DLXXXI. DLXXXH. DLXXXIII. DLXXXIV. DLXXXV. DLXXXVI. DLXXXVII. DLXXXVIII. DLXXXIX. DXG. DXCI. DXCII. DXCIU. Dxcrv. DXCV. DXCTI. Dxcvn. Dxcvm. DXCIX. DC. DCI. dch. DCin. DCP7. PAGB to Mr. Moore . . . .197 to Mr. Moore . . . 198 to Mr. Moore . . . .198 to Mr. Mooro ... 198 to Mr. Moore . . . .199 to Mr. Murray ... 199 to Mr. Moore . . . .199 to Mr. Murray ... 200 to Mr. Murray . . .200 to Mr. Murray . . . 200 to Mr. Murray . . .200 to Mr. Shelley ... 200 to Sir Walter Scott . . 201 to Mr. Murray ... 201 to Mr. Moore . . . .201 to Mr. Murray ... 201 to Mr. Murray . . .202 to Mr. Murray ... 202 to Mr. Moore . . . 203 to Mr. Ellice ... 203 to Mr. Murray .. . .203 to Mr. Murray . . . 204 to Mr. Moore .... 204 to Mr. Moore . . . 204 to Mr. Moore .... 205 to Mr. Murray . . . 205 to Mr. Murray . . . 206 to Mr. Murray ... 206 to Lady . . . .207 to Mr. Proctor ... 207 to Mr. Moore . . . .207 to Mrs. , . . 208 to Lady * * * , . . 208 to Mr. Moore ... 208 to the Earl of Blessington . 209 to the Earl of Blessington . 210 to the Earl of Blessington . 210 to the Count * * . . 210 to the Countess Blessington . 211 to the Countess of * * * . 211 to Lady Byron . . .211 to Mr. Blaquiere . . 212 to Mr. Bowring . . . 212 to Mr. Bowring . . . 213 to Mr. Church . . .213 to M. H. Beyle ... 214 toLady**** . . .214 to the Countess of Blessington 214 to Mr. Bowring . . . 214 to Goethe . . . . 215 to Mr. Bowring . . . 215 to the General Government of Greece .... 216 to Prince Mavrocordato . 216 to Mr. Bowring . . . 216 to Mr. Bowring . . . 217 to Mr. Bowring . . . 217 to the Honourable Mr. Douglas Kinnaird . , , . 818 to Mr. Bowring , . . 218 LETTERS DCV. DCVI. DCVII. dcvui. DCIX. DCX. DC XI. DCXII. Dcxur. Dcxrv. DCXV. DCXVI. DCXVII. DCXVIII. DCXIX. DCXX. DCXXI. DCXXII. DCXXIII. DCXXtV. DCXXV. DCXXVI. DCXXV1I. DCXXVIII. DCXXIX. DCXXX. DCXXXI. DCXXXII. DCXXXIII. DC XXXIV. DCXXXV. to Mr. Moore . to the Hon. Col. Stanhope to Mr. Muir . to Mr. C. Hancock to Mr. Charles Hancock , to Mr. Charles Hancock to Mr. Charles Hancock . t0 * * * * . to Mr. Charles Hancock . to Andrew Londo to His Highness Yussuff Pacha to Mr. Barff to Mr. Mayer . . . to Hon. Douglas Kinnaird . to Mr. Barff .... to Mr. Murray . to Mr. Moore .... to Dr. Kennedy ... to Mr. Barff .... to Mr. Barff to Sr. Parruca . . . to Mr. Charles Hancock to Dr. Kennedy . . • to Colonel Stanhope . • to Mr. Barff .... to Mr. Barff to Mr. Barff .... to *****, a Prussian officer to Mr. Barff .... to Mr. Barff to Mr. Barff .... PA OB 218 219 219 220 220 221 221 221 222 223 223 223 223 224 224 224 225 225 225 226 226 228 226 227 227 227 227 228 228 228 22S Extracts from a Journal begun Not. 14, 1813, . 229 Extracts from a Journal in Switzerland . • 244 Extracts from a Journal in Italy . . . 247 Detached Thoughts, extracted from various jour- nals, memorandums, &c. &c 259 Review of Wordsworth's Poems . . . 271 " Gell's Geography of Ithaca, and Itinerary ofGreece 271 The first chapter of a Novel, contemplated by Lord Byron in the spring of 1 812 ; (afterwards published in one of Mr. Dallas' novels) . . . 277 Parliamentary Speeches 278 A Fragment 284 Letter to John Murray on the Rev. W. L. Bowles's strictures on the Life and writings of Pope . 28S Notes ........ 294 Observations upon (( Observations :" A second Letter to John Murray Esq. on the Rev. W. L. Bowles's strictures on the Life and writings of Pope 295 Note 303 Some Observations upon an article in Blackwood's Magazine 303 Letter to the Editor of My Grandmother's Review 312 Lord Bacon's Apophthegms .... S14 Translation of two Epistles from the Armenian version Sli The will of Lord Byron S18 CONTENTS. POEMS, ETC. PA08 CHILDE HAROLd's FILQRIMAOE. Preface .... Tolanihe Canto I. .... Canto II. . ... Canto III. Canto IV. ... Notes to Canto I. . • • Notes to Canto II. Appendix .... Notes to Canto III. Notes to Canto IV i9 THE GIAOUR ... ... Notes THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS Canto I The wild gazelle .... Oh ! weep for those • • • On Jordan's banks ..." Jephtha's daughter • • • * Oh ! snatch'd away in beauty's bloom My soul is dark I saw thee weep .... Thy days are done • Song of Saul before his last battlo . Saul ; " All is vanity, saith Uio preacher When coldness wraps this suffering clay Vision of Belshauv ... ui !W Canto II .?! 102 FACB 177 Sun of the sleepless Were my bosom as false as thou doem'sl it to bo 177 Herod's lament for Mariamne On the day of the destruction of Jorusalem by Titus 177 Notes THE CORSAIR. Canto I. ... Canto II. Canto III. Notes LARA. Canto I. ... Canto II. . Note .... SIEGE OF CORINTH Notes ... FARISINA . > * Notes THE PRISONER OF CHILLON. Sonnet on Chillon Notes BEPFO ..... Notes MAZEPPA MANFRED Notes . • • HEBREW MELODIES. She walks in beauty . • • The harp the monarch minstrel swept If that high world 105 110 114 119 121 126 130 131 139 140 144 171 17! 174 175 175 175 175 175 175 175 17B I7« nt; 176 176 177 By the rivers of Babylon we sat down and wept 178 The destruction of Sennacherib . From Job ODE TO NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE Notes .... • ' MONODY ON THE DEATH OF SHERIDAN LAMENT OF TASSO POEMS. Written in an album To * * * ■ Stanzas written in passing the Ambracian gull Stanzas Written at Athens •••'■, Written after swimming from Sestos to Abydos Song Translalion of a famous Greek war song Translation of a Romaic song Written beneath a picture On parting .... ... ToThyrza Slanzas .... • To Thyrza Euthanasia Stanzas ...«••• Stanzas . • _ - • • • On a cornelian heart which was broken • To a youthful friend .... To ****** From the Portuguese Impromptu, fa) reply to a friend Address spoken at the opening of Drury-Lano Thoatre To Time Translation of a Romaic love-song A song . • • "..*,',„' On being asked what was the " origin of love Remember him . . . • •[_, • };|' Lines inscribed upon a cup formed from a skull On the death of Sir Peter Parker, Bart. To a lady weeping From the Turkish . Sonnet • the monument of a Newfoundland 178 178 180 180 181 183 183 183 184 181 184 185 185 185 1S6 186 186 186 187 187 187 188 188 188 189 189 189 190 190 190 191 191 193 192 192 193 196 Inscription on the monument ot a r< emounuianu dog Farewell • Bright be the place of thy soul . When we two parted • • • Stanzas for music .... Stanzas for music ...» Fare thee well . • • • • 193 193 193 194 194 194 CONTENTS XIII P \ r. k 195 195 196 197 197 197 A sketch To Ode from (he French From the French On (he star of the legion of honour , Napoleon's farewell ..... Written on a blank leaf of " The Pleasures of Memory" 198 Sonnet 198 Stanzas to 198 Darkness 198 Churchill's grave. A fact literally rendered . 199 The dream 199 Prometheus 201 Romance niuy doloroso de! sitio ytoma de AHiama 201 A very mournful ballad on the siege aid conquest of Alhama Sonette di Vittorelli Translation from Vittorelli Ode .... Notes to Poems fKOPHECY OF DANTE. Canto I. ..... . . Canto II. Canto UI, Canto IV Notes (AI.V MARINO FALIERO Notes Appendix SARDANAPALUS Notes ...... . THE TWO FOSCARI ..... Appendix WERNER . THE DEFORMED TRANSFORMED HEAVEN AND EARTH .... THE ISLAND. Canto I Canto II. ....... Canto III Canto. IV. Appendix ...... HOURS OF IDLENESS. Preface On leaving Newstead Abbey On a distant view of the village and school of Harrow on the Hill .... To D Epitaph on a friend A fragment To Eddleston ... ... Reply to some verses of J. M. Pigot, Esq. on the cruelty of his mistress . . To the sighing Strephon .... The tear ........ To Miss Pigot Lines written in " Letters of an Italian Nun and an English Gentleman, by J. J. Rousseau, founded on Facts" . Answer to the foregoing, addressed to Miss The fornelian ...... On the death of a young lady, cousin to the author, and very dear to him .... To Emma .... ... An occasional prologue, delivered previous to the performance of " The Wheel of Fortune" at a private theatre On the death of Mr. Fox .... ToM. S G. . ■ To Caroline . • • . • • To Caroline *T** Caroline ...... 201 203 203 204 205 206 207 208 210 211 212 228 257 258 265 291 291 310 315 345 358 368 369 374 375 378 382 383 S83 384 384 384 884 385 S85 385 386 3-7 Stan/as to a lady The first kiss of love To Mary To woman To M. S. G. To a beautiful quaker Song . To PAOI 389 389 390 390 390 390 391 391 To Mary 392 To Lesbia 392 Lines addressed to a young lady . . 392 Love's last adieu 393 Damstas 393 To Marion 393 Oscar of Alva .... 394 To the Duke of Dorset .... 397 TRANSLATIONS AND IMITATIONS. Adrian's adJress to his soul when dying, with Translation 398 Translation from Catullus . . . 393 Translation of the epitaph on Virgil and Ti- bullus 398 Imitation of Tibultus .... 398 Translation from Catullus . . . 398 Imitated from Catullus .... 398 Translation from Horace .... 398 Translation from Anacreon . . . 399 Ode III 399 Fragments of school exercises . . . 399 The episode of Nisus and Eurialus . . 399 Translation from the Medea of Euripides . 402 FUGITIVE PIECES. Thoughts suggested by a college examination 403 To the Earl of 404 Answer to some elegant verses sent by a friend to the author, complaining that one of his de- scriptions was rather too warmly drawn 405 Granta 405 Lachin y. Gair 406 To Romance ...... 407 Elegy on Newstead Abbey . . . 407 On a change of masters at a great public school 409 Childish recollections ... . 409 Answer to a beaut. ful poem, written by Montgo- mery, author of " The Wanderer in Switzer- land," &c. &c. entitled "The Common Lot" 413 To the Rev. J. T. Becher ... 413 The death of Calmar and Orla . . . 414 To E. N. L., Esq 415 To 416 Stanzas 416 Lines written beneath an elm in the churchyard of Harrow on the Hill .... 417 Critique, extracted from the Edinburgh Review 417 ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS. Preface 419 Postscript 430 HINTS FROM HORACE 431 THE CURSE OF MINERVA . . . 441 THE WALTZ. To the publisher . . . 444 AGE OF BRONZE ... . 447 THE VISION OF JUDGMENT. Preface 453 MORGANTE MAGGIORE. Advertisement ...... 461 POEMS. The Blues 467 Third Act of Manfred, in its original shape, as first sent to the publisher . . . 470 To my dear Mary Anne . . . 472 To MissChaworth 472 Fragment 473 The prayer of nature . 473 XIV CONTENTS. PAOE Fragment 473 On revisiting Harrow . ... 473 L'amitie' est l'amour sans ailes • . . 473 To my son . . . • . 474 Epitaph on John Adams, of Southwell . 476 Fragment . • • ■ • . 475 To Mrs. * * * ... . 475 A love-song 475 Stanzas to * * + * * * * . . . . 475 To the samo . . . . . 476 Song 476 Stanzas to ***, on leaving England . 476 Lines to Mr. Hodgson . ... 477 Linns in the travellers' book at Orchomenus • 477 Epistle to Mr. Hodgson .... 478 On Moore's last operatic farce • . • 478 On Lord Thurlow's poems . . . 478 To Lord Thurlmv 478 To Thomas Moore . . . 478 Fragment of an epistle to Thomas Moore . 479 The Devil's drivo 479 Windsor poetics .... • 480 Additional stanzas to the ode to Napoleon . 480 To Lady Caroline Lamb . . . 480 Stanzas for music . .... 480 Address intended to be recited at the Caledonian meeting ...'... 481 ToBelshazzar . 481 On the Prince Regent's returning the picture of Sarah Countess of Jersey to Mrs. Mee . 481 Hebrew Melodies 482 Lines intended for the opening of " The Siege of Cormth" 482 Extract from an unpublished poem . . 432 ToAu^tista 482 Fragment of a poem on hearing that Lady Byron was ill.— 1816 . 484 On tlie bust of Helen by Canova . . 484 To Thomas Moore . . ... 484 Stanzas to the river Po .... 484 Sonnet to George the Fourth . . . 484 The Irish Avatar 485 Francesca of Rimini . .... 485 Stanzas 486 Stanzas 487 Impromptu 487 To the Countess of Blessington . . . 487 On this day I complete my thirty-sixth vear . 487 POEMS tROM MANtTSCIUPTa COLLECTED IN 1833. To a Lady who presented the Auihor with a vel- vet band which bound her tresses . . 488 paos Remembrance . 488 The Adieu 488 To a vain Lady 489 To Anne 490 To the same 490 To the Author of a Sonnet beginning " ' Sad is my vrrsc,' you say, ' And yet no tear.' " . 490 On finding a Fan ' 490 Farewell to the Muse . . ' . . . 490 To an Oak at Newstcad . . . . 491 Lines on hearing that Lady Byron was ill . 491 Stanzas " Gould love for ever" . . . 492 Stanzas to a Hindoo Air .... 492 Lines intended for the First Canto of Childe Ha- rold's Pilgrimage .... 493 Don Jpaw Canto I. . . . .495 Canto II. ... 509 Canto III 522 Canto IV. . . 530 Canto V. . . ... .537 Preface to Cantos VI. VII. VIII. . . 517 Canto VI. ..... 518 Canto VII. . ... 556 Canto VIII. . . . . .561 Canto IX. . ... 570 Canto X. .... 575 Canto XI. . ... 581 Canto XII. . ... 587 Canto XIII. . . .592 Canto XIV. . .... 599 Canto XV. . . . . . 606 Canto XVI. . . . .612 Notes to Canto I. . ... 620 Notes to Canto III. . 62C Notes to Canto IV. .... 621 Notes to Canto V. . . . 621 Notes to Canto VI. .... 622 Notes to Canto VII. . . . 622 Notes to Canto VIII. . . . 622 Notes to Canto IX. . . . 622 Notes to Canto X. . . . 623 Notes to Canto XL . . . . 623 Notes to Canto XII. . . .623 Notes to Canto XIII. . . . o24 Notes to Canto XIV. . . . .624 Notes to Canto XV. . . . 624 Notes to Canto XVI. . . . .625 Dedication . ... 626 ) THE LIFE OF LORD BYRON. George Gordon Byro.v, Lord Byron, was born in Holles-slreet, London, on the 22.1 of January, 17S3. His name was of Norman origin, and still exists, among the noblest in France, in the family of the Duke de Biron. His direct ancestor, Ralph de Biron, accompanied William the Conqueror to England, and he and bis descendants for several succeeding reigns, held large posses- sions in Nottinghamshire, Derbyshire, and Lancashire. James Byron, of Horestan Castle, Derbyshire, appears on the "Oxford List," as one of the English Knights who followed the banner of Richard Cteur de Lion to Palestine, and lie or his brother became a hostage for the payment of the ransom of that monarch after his captivity. In the wars of the three Edwards, and of the White and Red Roses, the family were highly distinguished, and were engaged in almost every battle, from Cressy to Bos- worth Field. Newstead Abbey, near Not- tingham, with the lands adjoining it, was presented by Henry VIII. on the dissolution of the monasteries to Sir John Byron, and in 1643, his great grandson was created a peer by Charles I. with the title of Baron Byron, of Rochdale, in the county of Lan- caster. During the political struggles of that period, the Byrons adhered faithfully to me Crown, and suffered greatly by confis- cation and otherwise. At the battle of Edfeehill seven brothers of the name were nt, four of whom fell at Marston Moon William, the fifth Lord, succeeded to the title in 1736, and, in 1765, was tried before the House of Peers for killing his relation Mr. Chaworth, in a desperate scuffle or duel in London, and found guilty of man- slaughter, but pleaded the privilege of the peerage, and was discharged. He retired to Newstead Abbey, and resided there, living in a very unsocial, savage, and eccen- tric manner, till bis deafh in 1798. John, the father of the poet, was the son of Lord William's eldest brother, Admiral Byron, the celebrated voyager. He was a captain in the guards, and notorious, alike for his personal beauty, and the profligacy of his conduct. In his twenty-seventh year, he won the affections of Lady Caermarthen, the wife of the Marquis of Caermarthen ; tied with her to the Continent, and, on her husband's obtaining a divorce, married her. She died in 1784, leaving one daughter, Augusta Byron, afterwards Mrs. Leigh. In the following year, be married Catherine Gordon, the only child of George Gordon Esq. of Gight, in Scotland. She was of noble, and indeed, of princely ancestry, being a lineal descendant of Sir William Gordon, son of the Earl of Huntly by a daughter of James I. She was possessed of pro perty to the amount of more than £-20,000 sterling, which was very soon nearly ex- pended in paying her husband's debts, and contributing to his extravagancies. In the summer of 1786, they left Scotland, and resided in France, until the close of tin: year 1787, when Mrs. Byron returned to London, and continued there until the birth of the poet in January 1788. At this time all her estate had been sacrificed, with the exception of about £150 sterling per an- num, vested in trustees for her use. From London she proceeded with her infant to Aberdeen, where she was soon after joined by Captain Byron, who, after passing at intervals two or three months with her, during which they lived very unhappily together, departed again for France, and died at Valenciennes in 1791. At five years old, young Byron was sent to a day school kept by a Mr. Bowers, where he remained a year. He was then placed for a time under the care of two other in structers, and at seven entered the Gram- mar School at Aberdeen. In the summer of 1796, after an attack of scarlet fever, he was removed for change of air, to the High- lands, and resided, with his mother, for some time, at Ballater, on the Dee, about forty LIFE OF LORD BYRON. miles from Aberdeen. To his pleasant re- collections of this period, and its scenes and associations, lie often recurs in his writings. By the death without issue, of William, the fifth Lord, in May, 1798, he succeeded to his estates and titles, and his cousin the Earl of Carlisle, the son of the late Lord's sister, was appointed his guardian. In the autumn of that year, he accompanied his mother to Newslead Abbey, which had been the principal seat of the family since its presentation, and continued to be so until it was purchased by Colonel Wildman in 1814. On their arrival there, he was, in consequence of a lameness in one of his lict, occasioned, it is said, by an accident which occurred at his birth, and afterwards increased by improper treatment, placed at Nottingham under the care of a person who professed the cure of such cases, and he received at the same time lessons in Latin, from Mr. Rogers, a schoolmaster of that town. He was removed, in a short time, to London, to the charge of the emi- nent physician, Doctor Baillie, and studied for two years at the school of Doctor Glen- nie at Dulwich. But neither the Notting- ham practitioner, nor the skill of Doctor Baillie, succeeded in relieving the infirmity in his foot, which continued to be a source of extreme annoyance and mortification to him during life. In one of his vacations at this time, (1800,) he visited his cousin, Miss Parker, and " his first dash into poetry," he says in one of his memorandums, " was the ebulli- tion of a passion for her." The verses lie alludes to are published in this volume, page 387. She was the daughter of Ad- miral Sir Peter Parker, on whose deal in 1814, he wrote the lines beginning, " There is a tear for all who die " In the summer of 1801, he visited Cheltenham and immediately on his return was placet at Harrow, under the tuition of Doctoi Drury, for whom he appears to have uni- formly entertained the utmost respect and affection. In the autumn of 1802, he passed some time with his mother at Bath, and proceeded with her to Nottingham, where she took lodgings, Newstead being ftir that season let to Lord Grey de Ruthven. line he cultivated an intimacy with Miss Mary Anne Chaworth; to whom he had been previously introduced in London. She re- sided at Annesley, in the neighbourhood "I Nottingham. They were distantly related, the third Lord Bvion. who succeeded to the title in 1679, having married a daughter of Viscount Chaworth of Ireland. Mr. Cha worth, who fell in the dispute with the Lord Byron of 1765, was of the same family. He visited Annesley daily for nearly six weeks, passing most of the time with his cousin, and became deeply and devotedly attached to her. He was then hut fifteen. She was two or three years older, very beautiful, and an heiress with large expec- laiions. and seems to have looked upon him, at the moment, as a mere schoolboy, and laughed at his passion and himself accord- ingly. He has pictured in " The Dream," page 199, the story of his love for her, and its fate and consequences. It appears, young as he then was, to have made an in- delible impression upon him, and to have given, at least in his own opinion, a colour- inir of the deepest and darkest importance to the events and feelings of his after life. Allusions to the subject as one of painful and of powerful interest, are to be lound in almost every page of his works. Many of his smaller poems, particularly the lines " Well, thou art happy, &x." page 189, were addressed to her. In the following year, 1805, she was married to Mr. Mus- ters, a gentleman of the neighbourhood, and it is said, that the marriage proved un happy. She died in 1831. During one of his vacations at this period, he studied French with the Abbe de Rouffigny in London, but made little progress. He afterwards read that language with ease, but never attempted to speak it. Hcpassed the vacation of IS04 with his mother at Southwell, in Nottinghamshire, and in Oc- tober 1805, left Harrow for Trinity Col- lege, Cambridge. On a visit to Southwell in the following Bummer, (1806,) he became intimate with the family of the Pigots, and to a lady of that family the earliest of his letters which have been preserved was addressed. In August, a dispute with his mother, whose violence of temper, at times, exceeded all bounds, compelled him to fly to London. She however pursued him, and they were soon reconciled. About the first of Novem- ber his first collection of poems was put in press at Newark by Mr. Ridge, a bookseller of that place, and about a hundred copies circulated among his friends. All these, however, he immediately recalled, and in the January following printed for private distribution a second collection, omitting many pieces which had appeared in the first LIFE OF LOKD BYRON. XVII It was entitled " Poems on various Occa- sions," and the author's name was not given. In May, or June, after numerous alterations and additions, the work appeared in its pub- lished shape, with the title of " Hours of Idleness, &c." and its second edition was dedicated to his guardian, Lord Carlisle. In the present collection, see this volume, page 3S2, the reader will find all the poems which were originally suppressed, and no- tices of the variations of the different edi- tions. He also wrote previous to, and about this time, several occasional verses, not in- cluded in any of his publications, which have been collected since his death, and are now published, from page 467 to page 489. The minor Reviews, such as the Critical, Monthly, Antijacobin, &c. gave the " Hours of Idleness" a very favourable reception, but the appearance, in the spring of 1808, of the article in the Edinburgh Review, (see this volume, page 417,) satirically and severely criticizing it, destroyed for the moment all his hopes of fame, humbled his ambition, and wounded his pride to the quick. Yet to this article may be traced nil his future literary eminence. The very reaction of his spirit against what he deem ed oppression, roused him to a full con- sciousness of bis own powers, and to a concentration of them all upon one object. The criticism has been generally attributed to Mr. Jeffrey, the ostensible editor of the Review, although there is no positive cer- tainty from whose pen it emanated. He, however, in his character of editor, neces- sarily sanctioned it, and upon him, in par- ticular, Lord Byron for a long time poured the vials of his wrath. Previous to this, and since his depar- ture from Harrow, Lord Byron had passed his life between the dissipations of Cam- bridge and London, and had obtained no other distinction than the college reputation among his fellows of being a clever, but a cari'less and dissipated student. His most intimate associates were Mr. Matthews, Mr. Hohhonse, Mr. Seroope Davies, and a few other young men of his own age and habits, whom he occasionally invited to Newstead, which he hail slightly repaired and fitted up as a temporary residence. The follow- ing extract of a letter from Mr. Matthews to a lady of his acquaintance, written from London soon after this period, contains an interesting and amusing description of the Abbey and its inmates. " Newstead Abbey is situate one hun- dred and thirty-six miles from London ; four on this side Mansfield. Though sadly fallen to decay, it is still completely an Abbey, and most part of it is standing in the same state as when it was first built. There are two tiers of cloisters, with a variety of cells and rooms about them, which, though not inhabited, nor in an inhabitable slate, might easily be made so; and many of the origi- nal rooms, among which is a fine stone hall, are still in use. Of the Abbey Church only one end remains; and the old kitchen, with a long range of apartments, is reduced to a heap of rubbish. Leading from the Abbey to the modern part of the habitation is a noble room, seventy feet in length and twen- ty-three in breadth : but every part of the house displays neglect and decay, save those which the present Lord has lately fitted up. " The house and gardens are entirely surrounded by a wall with battlements. In front is a large lake, bordered here and there with castellated buildings, the chief of which stands on an eminence at the farther extre- mity of it. Fancy all this surrounded with hleak and barren hills, with scarce a tree to be seen for miles, except a solitary clump or two, and you will have some idea of New stead. "Ascend, then, with me the hall steps, that I may introduce you to my Lord and his visitants. But have a care bow you pro- ceed ; be mindful to go there in broad day- light, and with your eyes about you. For, should you make any blunder, — should you go to the right of the hall steps, you are laid Mold of by a bear ; and, should you go to the left, your case is still worse, for you run (\ill against a wolf! — Nor, when you have attained the door, is your danger over ; for the hall being decayed, and therefore stand- ing in need o*" repair, a bevy of inmates are very probably oanging at one end of it with their pistols ; so that if you enter without giving loud notice of your approach, you have only escaped the wolf and the bear to expire by the pistol-shots of the merry monks of Newstead. " Our party consisted of Lord Byron and four others ; and was, now and then, increased by the presence of a neighbouring parson. As for our way of living, the order of the day was generally this : — For break fast we had no set hour, but each suited his own convenience, — every thing remaining on the table till the whole party had done ; though had one wished to breakfast at the early hour of ten, one would have been xviii LIFE OF LORD BYRON. rather lucky to find any of the servants up Our average hour of rising was one. I, who generally got up between eleven and twelve, was always, — even when an invalid, — the first of the party, and was esteemed n prodigy (if early rising. It was frequently past two before the breakfast party broke up. Then, for the amusements of the morning, there was reading, fencing, single- slick, or shuttlecock, in the great room ; practising with pistols in the hall ; walking — riding — cricket — sailing on the lake, play- ing with the be-ar, or teazing the wolf. -Be- tween seven and eight we dined, and our evening lasted from that time till one, two, or three in the morning. The evening di- versions may be easily conceived. " I must not omit the custom of handing round, after dinner, on the removal of the cloth, a human skull filled with Burgundy. After revelling on choice viands, and the finest wines of France, we adjourned to tea, where we amused ourselves with reading or improving conversation, — each according to his fancy, — and, after sandwiches, &.C. retired to rest. A set of monkish dresses which had been provided, with all the pro- per apparatus of crosses, beads, tonsures &c. often gave a variety to our appearance, and to our pursuits." It was at Newstead Abbey, in the early part of September, that he began to prepare his Satire, the " English Bards and Scotch Reviewers," for the press. Although its immediate preparation was evidently has- tened by the critique in the Edinburgh Re\iew, yet, as appears from his letters, it had been projected a long time previous, and three or four hundred lines ot it written. He had the proof sheets printed from the manuscript by Ridge at Newark, and in the beginning of the next year took them up to London for publication. He had then (Ja- nuary, 1S09) become of age, and found his estates greatly embarrassed, as well by the improvidence of his immediate ancestors as by his own pecuniary supplies during his minority, which he had been compelled to borrow at. an exorbitant interest. Heavy incumbrances remained for many years after upon his property, and distressed him ex- ceedingly. His Satire was put in press by Cawthorne, the London publisher of the " Hours of Idleness," and its publication was superintended bv Mr. Dallas, to whom he had made a present of the copy-right. Mr. Dallas was professionally a man of letters, and the author of several novel* of limited popularity, and rather indifferent merit ; to one of which Lord Byron contributed the chapter included in this collection, page 271. He was related by marriage to George Byron, then an otticcr in the Bri- tish navy, the cousin of the poet, and his successor in the title. One of the objects of Lord Byron in visiting London at this period was to take his seat in the House of Peers, previous to going abroad. He had for several months made arrangements for a voyage to India, and had applied tor infor mation relative to his route, &.c. to the Arabic professor at Cambridge, and taken other steps with a similar intention ; hut lie finally abandoned this project, and resolved on visiting Greece. Before the meeting of Parliament, he wrote to his guardian, Lord Carlisle, and reminded him that lie should become of age at the commencement of the session, in the hope of being introduced by him personally into the House. He re- ceived, to his great disappointment, a cold and formal reply, merely pointing out the technical mode of proceeding in such cases. This so excited his indignation that he in- stantly erased from the Satire several cou- plets complimentary to Lord Carlisle, and inserted the bitter lines, and still more bitter note, which now stand in it. On the 13th of March he took his seat in the House of Lords, placing himself on one of the oppo- sition benches, and continued a steady ad- herent of the Whig party till his death. His Satire appeared on the ISth or 20th of March, and met a ready and rapid sale. He then returned to Newstead, where he spent between two and three months in preparing a second edition for the puss ; and about the 11th of June, left London tor Falmouth, with his friend Mr. Hobhouse, on their way to the East. They embarked at Falmouth, in the Lisbon packet, on the 2d of July, ami ar- rived in four days at Lisbon, from whence they journeyed on horseback to Seville and Cadiz, and sailed from the latter place liir Gibraltar, in the Hyperion frigate. On the 19th of August, they left Gibraltar for Malta, having first sent home two ol'I.ord Byron's servants, Murray and young Rush- ton, the " Yeoman" and " Page" of the "Good Night" in Childe Harold, the lat- ter being unable, from ill health, to 20 on. His valet, Fletcher, remained with them. Vt Malta he formed an acquaintance with Mrs. Spencer Smith, the " Florence" of hi* poetry, and was on the point of fighting a duel with an officer of the garrison, but v satisfactory explanations having been made on the ground by the friend of his anta- gonist, the affair was amicably adjusted. They sailed in the brig Spider on the 19th for Prevesa, which they reached on the 29th, having touched at Patras on their way. From Prevesa they journeyed to Joannina, the capital of Albania, the an- cient Epirus, and from thence to Tepelene, at nine days distance, for the purpose of visiting Ali Pacha, the then chief of a great portion of Greece, and one of the most celebrated Viziers of the Ottoman empire, by whom they were received with marked civility and attention. They were among the earliest English travellers through Al- bania, a country at that time hardly known to the rest of Europe. The letters of Lord Byron at this period, published in this col- lection of his works, together with the text and notes of the first and second Cantos of Childe Harold, and many of his other poems, notes, &c. contain such numerous details of their various adventures during this and their subsequent journeys and voyages in the Levant, as render a par- ticular description in this sketch unneces- sary. On the 3d of November they returned flora Tepelene through Joannina to Pre- vesa, and on the 15th, attended by a. guard of forty or fifty Albanians, they traversed Acarnania and Etolia to Missolonglii, crossed the gulf of Corinth to Patras, and proceeded from thence by land to Vostizza, where they obtained a first view of Mount Parnassus. They sailed to the opposite shore of the gulf in a small boat ; rode on horseback from Salona to Delphi, and after travelling through Livadia, and visiting Thebes, &.c. arrived at Athens on the 25th of December. At Athens, they resided for two or three months, making occasional excursions in its neighbourhood. They lodged in the house of Theodora Macri, a Greek lady, to whose eldest daughter, the lines on page 184, " Maid of Athens ere we part, &c." were addressed. On the 5th of March, 1810, they embarked in an English sloop of war for Smyrna, where they remained, with the exception of a few days employed in a visit to the ruins of Ephesus, until the 1 1 th of April. The first two Cantos of Childe Harold were completed at Smyrna, as ap- pears from the following memorandum pre- fixed to the original manuscript. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. XIX " Byron. Joannina in Albania, Begun October 31st, 1309 : Concluded Canto 2d, Smyrna, March 28th, 1810. " Byron." The Salsette frigate then lying at Smyr- na,-had been ordered to Constantinople for the purpose ,of conveying to England Mr. Adair, the English ambassador at the Porte, and Lord Byron and Mr. Hohhouse took passage in her on the 11th April. The next morning they landed at Tenedos, and the day after left the ship, with a party of officers to visit the ruins of Troas. On the 14th, they anchored in the Dardanelles, where they lay for nearly three weeks. While at anchor there, Lord Byron with Mr. Ekenhead, a lieutenant of the frigate, accomplished the achievement of which he wasthnugh life particularly proud, that of swimmi.ig from Sestos to Abydos. Their first attempt was made on a day in the latter part of April, and failed, owing to the cold- ness of thewater, and their ignorance of the nature of the current. On the 3d May, they made a second attempt, and the weather being warmer, succeeded. The Salsette arrived at Constantinople on the 13th May, and remained there about three months, during which time Lord Byron was pre- sented to the Sultan, and made an expedi- tion to the Black Sea and the Cyanean Symplegades. On the 14th of July, he left Constantinople in the same frigate, in company with Mr. Adair and Mr. Hob- house. The two latter gentlemen pro- ceeded in her to England, but Lord Byron was on the 15th, at his own request, landed at the island of Zea, with two Albanians, a, Tartar, and his English servant, Fletcher, from whence he sailed to Athens, and reached there on the 18th. At Athens he met an old acquaintance and fellow collegian, the Marquis of Sligo, and in a day or two left there in company with him for the Morea. They parted at Corinth, the Marquis going from thence to Tripolitza, and Lord Byron to Patras. During the two following months he made the tour of the Morea, &c. and, after a long "and dangerous illness at Patras, returned to Athens in December, and there fixed his head quarters during the remainder of his stay in Greece. His principal companiou a this time was Lord Sligo, and he was also in- timate with Mr. Bruce, afterwards celebrated lbr the part he took in the romantic escape o( XX LIFE OF LORD BYRON. the French General Lavaletle from prison, and with Lady Hester Stanhope, the eccen- tric chicftainessof the Bedouin Arabs. He was employed in collecting the materials which form the notes to the 2d Canto of Childe Harold, and in the words of Mr. Moore, " as if in utter defiance of the ' ge- nius loci,' " he there wrote his " Hints from Horace," a satire which, impregnated as it is with London life from beginning to end, bears the date, " Athens, Capuchin convent, March 12, 1811." His pecuniary affairs while abroad were greatly embarrassed,, and the want of re- mittances probably prevented him from undertaking a' voyage to Egypt, which in the month of March he had contemplated, and no doubt hastened his return home. He went to the island of Malta in May, where he suffered severely from an attack of fever. lo which he seems to have been constitu- tionally subject, being three or four times while in the Levant, reduced by similar at- tacks lo almost [he last extremity. On the 3d of June, as soon as his health permitted, he set sail from Malta in the Volage frigate for England, and reached London on the 1 4th of July, having been absent a little more than two years. The day after his arrival in London, Mr. Dallas called upon him, and in the course of a brief conversation, Lord Byron men- tioned having written the " Hints from Ho- race," which he said he considered a good finish to the " English Bards and Scotch Reviewers," adding that he intended to put it in press immediately, and requesting Mr. Dallas to superintend its publication. Mr. Dallas took the manuscript home with him, and on perusing it, was, to use his own words, " grievously disappointed." He re- turned it the next morning, and though unwilling to speak of it as he really thought, could not refrain from expressing some sur- prise that its author should have produced nothing else during his two years' absence. Lord Byron told him that he had occasion ally written short poems, besides a great many stanzas in the measure of Spenser, and added, " they are not worth troubling you with, but you may have them all if you like." He then took the manuscripts of Childe Harold from a small trunk, and said they had been read but by one person, (probably Mr. Hobhouse,) who had found v :ry little to commend and much to con- demn, and that he himself was of the same opinion. Mr. Dallas on the contrary, on perusing the poem, ai once appreciated l' merit and anticipated its success, but it was some time before he could overcome Lord Byron's real or assumed repugnance to its publication. The " Hints from Horace" was bis especial favourite. He was very hsiroiis of having it printed without delay ; and it was accordingly handed to Caw thorne, the publisher of the " English Bar&a and Scotch Reviewers," for that purpose. Mr. Dallas, however, finally prevailed upon him to suppress it at the moment, and although Lord Byron always dwelt upon it with pleasure, and subsequently took pains at various times to prepare it for the press, it never met the approbation of his book- sellers or their literary censors, and did not appear until after his death. The publication of Childe Harold being determined upon, the manuscript was placed by Mr. Dallas, to whom the copy-right had been presented, in the hands of Mr. Mur- ray the bookseller, and was immediately put in press. The " English Bards and Scotch Reviewers" had previous to this time passed to a fourth edition ; a fifth was now issued with various additions, after which that work was suppressed, and every copy so far as was practicable called in and destroyed. In America, however, and on the Continent, where the English law of copy-right could not be enforced, it conti- nued to be published with the other works of its author. On the 23d of July, Lord Byron wrote to his mother, who was then at Newstcad, stating that he was detained in town by some law affairs for a day or two, but should visit her as soon as possible. The next morning he received intelligence that she was dangerously ill, and instantly started for Newstead, but did not reach there until after her death. Her last illness is said to have been rendered fatal by a fit of rage brought on by reading her upholsterer's bill. She is described as a short, corpiden person, exceedingly fretful and impatient in her disposition ; and her conduct towards her son from 'hisVhildhood appears to have been alternately indulgent and abusive, and without the least judgment or self-command. She undoubtedly loved him to the extreme of fondness, and was ambitiously proud of him, yet so ungovernable were her passions, that she, at times, treated him with a cruelty, and even brutality almost beyond belief. He said to Lord Sligo, in reference to her while in Greece, " Look there," pointing to . LIFE OF LORD BYRON. XXI nis foot, " it is to her false delicacy at my , birth I owe that deformity, and yet as long- as I can remember, she has never ceased to launt and reproach me with it." In a pas- sage in his suppressed Memoirs relating to /his early days, lie is said to have described the horror and humiliation which came over him when in one of her fits of passion she called him a " lame brat," and the opening to be matched among contemporaries in any age or country." Mr. Moore, in alluding to this meeting, thus describes the impressions left upon him, by this his first interview with Lord Byron. " What I chiefly remember to have remarked was the nobleness of his air, his beauty, and the gentleness of his voice and manners. Being in mourning for his mo- of •' The Deformed Transformed," indeed ther, the colour, as well of his dress, as of the whole drama itself, was too evidently occasioned by that painful recollection. Yet notwithstanding the sufferings her unhappy temperament had caused him, he uniformly paid her the greatest courtesy and personal respect ; and the manner in which he la- mented her loss proved tiie unimpaired in- tegrity of his affection. Besides that of his mother, he was com- pelled to mourn at this period the death of no less than six of his relations and inti- mate friends. Among the number were Wingfield, one of his Harrow favourites, Eggleston, his protoge at Cambridge, of whom he was romantically fond, and Mat- thews, a young man of extraordinary pro- mise. iC In the short space of one month," he says, in a note to Childe Harold, " I have lost her who gave me being, and most of those who made that being tolerable ;" and his letters, for a long time after, are written in a style of melancholy reckless- ness, indicative of habitual gloom and de- spondency. He remained at Newstea 1 until late in the autumn ; ami, after a visit to Rochdale, in Lancashire, on business connected with his estates in that quarter, returned through Cambridge to London the latter part of October. About this time he became inti- mate with Mr. Moore, the poet, afterwards his biographer, and one of his lew firm and faithful friends, and with Lord Holland, both of whom he had violently attacked in the " English Bards and Scotch Reviewers." The origin of his acquaintance with Mr. Moore was a note appended to that satire, and the singularly curious and characteristic correspondence which followed it is contain- ed in this volume, page 36, &c. That correspondence led to an introduction at the house of Mr. Rogers, the author of " Hu- man Life," &c. and on the day it took place, Mr. Campbell, the author of the " Plea- sures of Hope," Lord Byron, and Mr. Moore, dined with that gentleman, forming, as one of Lord Byron's biographers very justly observes, " a poetical group not easily his glossy curling and picturesque hair, gave more effect to the pure, spiritual paleness of his features, in the expression of which, when he spoke, there was a perpetual play of lively thought, though melancholy was their habitual character when in rp pose." The following further extracts from Mr. Moore's Notices, will give the reader an ac- curate general idea of Lord Byron's personal appearance. "Of his face, the beauty may be pro- nounced to have been of the highest order, as combining at once regularity of features with the most varied and interesting expres sion. His eyes, though of a light gray, were capable of all extremes of meaning, hut it was in the mouth and chin that the great beauty as well as expression of his countenance lay. " His head was remarkably small, — so much so as 1-9 be rather out of proportion with his face. The forehead, though a lit- tle too narrow, was high, and appeared more so from his having his hair (to preserve it, as he said) shaved over the temples ; while the glossy, dark-brown curls, clustering over his head, gave the finish to its beauty. When to this is added, that his nose, though hand- somely, was rather thickly shaped, that his teeth were white and regular, and his com plexion colourless, as good an idea perhaps as it is in the power of mere words to con- vey may be conceived of his features. " In height he was, as he himself has in formed us, five feet eight inches and a half, anil to the length of his limbs he attributed his being such a good swimmer. His hands were very white, and — according to his own notion of the size of hands as indicating birth — aristocratically small. The lame- ness of his right foot, though an obstacle to grace, hut little impeded the activity of his movements ; and from this circumstance, as well as from the skill with which the foo was disguised by means of long trowsers, it would be difficult to conceive a defect of this kind less obtruding itself as a deformity SXI1 LIFE OF LORD BYRON. while the diffidence which a constant con- sciousness of the infirmity gave to his first approach and address, made, in him, even lameness a source of interest." On the 27th of February, 1812, in a de- hate on the subject of the Nottingham Frame-breakers', lie made his first speech in the House of Lords. He had previously prepared himself, not only by composing, but wriling it beforehand. It was flatter- ingly received, but obtained no permanent popularity, and bis after efforts as an orator Were generally considered failures. In April following, be spoke a second time, in favour of the claims of the Irish Catholics, and, in June, accompanied the presentation of a petition in behalf of Major Cartwright, with some introductory remarks, which closed his parliamentary career as a speak- er. His display, on the second and third occasions, was less promising than at first. His delivery was mouthing and theatrical, and in a kind of chanting tone, which is said to have also disfigured his recitation of poetry. On the first of March, Cbilde Harold ap- peared, and " the impression" says Mr. Moore, " which it produced on the public, was as instantaneous as it has proved deep and lasting. The fame of its author bad not to wait for any of the ordinary grada- tions, but seemed to spring up like the pa- lace of a fairy tale, in a night." The re- ception of the poem, indeed, was such, that there was no undue extravagance in the memorandum made by Lord Byron himself in his suppressed Memoirs, " I awoke one morning and found myself famous." The first edition was immediately disposed of, and numerous editions followed in quick succession. Previous to this period, notwithstanding the advantages of bis birth and title, Lord Byron had not mingled, to any great extent, in the gay world of London, his companion- ship having been mostly confined to bis col- lege and travelling acquaintances, and to a lew intimate friends; but the universal ac- clamation with which his poem was now hailed, and tlie mysterious interest it at- tached to his personal character, together with his youth, his beauty, his rank, and his more than promise of extraordinary in- tellectual power, forced him instantly into the highest fashionable circles, among whose most illustrious ;rowds he became the dis- tinguished objec* . and with whom he con- tmued to move, i -h decisional voluntary intervals of retirement, until his separation from Lady Byron. In August he went to Cheltenham, where, at the request of the Managers, through Lord Holland, he wrote the Address spoken at the opening of the new theatre, Drury Lane. He also there wrote the poem on •' Waltzing." It was published anony- mously; but as it created no sensati at least in comparison with Childe Harold, be thought proper to suppress it, and even to contradict, through Mr. Murray, its pub lisher, the rumour of its being his. " The Curse of Minerva" bad been printed also anonymously, and for private circulation only, soon after his return from the East. Its immediate object, an attack on Lord Elgin, relative to the statues, &.c. sent by him from Greece, was more fully accom- plished in the notes to Childe Harold, which contained the substance of the poem. The opening lines were afterwards made to form the commencement of the Corsair. Neither the " Waltz," nor the " Curse of Minerva," was included in any English collection of his works during his lifetime. The first edition of the Giaour was pub- lished in May, 181S. It was materially improved, and gradually enlarged through various subsequent editions, the fifth being announced in September. In the beginning of December, it was followed by the Bride of Abydos, and in January, 1814, by the Corsair. The latter poem created for the moment a greater excitement with the pub- lic than even Childe Harold, and met with an unexampled sale, fourteen thousand copies being disposed of in less than a week. The Ode to Napoleon was written in April, and the Hebrew Melodies about the same time. The lines " To a Lady weeping," alluding to George the Fourth, then Prince Iieg< nt, and his daughter, the Princess Charlotte, were originally printed in a news- paper, and attributed to Mr. Moore; but their appeaiance among other small poems in the same volume with the Corsair, fixed their authorship upon Lord Byron, and in connexion with the " Windsor Poetics," then for the first time reported to be his, brought down \tpon his head a violent storm of invective and abuse, from the ministerial partisans, which uniting with other causes of disquietude and apprehension relating to his political career, induced him about the first of May, not only again to repeat his determination expressed in the preface to the Corsair, of writing no more for LIFE OF LORD BYRON. xxif] ( years ; but to attempt purchasing back the copy-rights of all his works, so far as they ) had been disposed of, and suppressing every line he had written. In pursuance of this resolution, he wrote to Mr. Murray, en- closing the amount paid for Childe Harold, the Corsair, &.e. and ordering the unsold copies destroyed ; but, on being answered that such a proceeding would be deeply in- jurious to Mr. Murray, he abandoned his project, and allowed the publication to pro- ceed. Lara appeared in August. It was at first published in the same volume with Jacqueline, a poem by Mr. Rogers ; the names of both authors being omitted. With the exception of the Ode to Water- loo, Napoleon's Farewell, and other occa- sional poems, he did not come before the public as an author between this period and the publication of the Siege of Corinth and Parisina, in the spring of 1816. On the 2d of January, 1815, Lord Byron was married to Anne Arabella Milbanke, daughter of Sir Ralph Milbanke, afterwards Noel, of Seaham, in the county of Durham. She was nearly connected by blood with the families of Lord Wentworth, Lord Mel- bourne, and others of the English nobility. Her immediate fortune was about ten thou- sand pounds sterling, but on the death of her father and mother, which took place a few years after her marriage, she became possessed of estates to a very large amount. Lord Byron had addressed berabouta year previous, and although his suit was at that time rejected, yet her refusal was accom- panied with every assurance of esteem and r j ird, and a friendly correspondence was kept up between them. A second applica- tion in September proved successful. The disastrous result of the marriage appears to have been anticipated by her i-is], ml even at the bridal altar. The '• coining events cast their shadows before." His prose account of the wedding, in his suppressed Memoirs, is said by Mr. Moore to have agreed closely in all its circum- stances with his poetical description of it in " The Dream." Towards the^lose of the month of March he took up his residence in London, where he lived, during the succeeding year in a style of great splendour and expense, far beyond his income or his expectations; and soon became deeply involved in the most distressing pecuniary embarrassments. His time was passed in the whirlwind of fashionable dissipation, and behind the scenes of Drury Lane Theatre, of which he had in June been chosen one of the Ma- naging Committee, in company with Lord Essex, Douglas Kinnaird, Mr. Whitbread, and others. By the month of November, his pecuniary difficulties had increased to such an alarming degree that he was not only under the necessity of selling his libra- ry, but an execution was levied on his fur- niture, and his very beds were seized by bailiffs. His privilege as a member of the Upper House of Parliament exempted his person from arrest. On the tenth of December his daughter, Ada Augusta Byron, was born ; and, about the first of February following, a separation between Lady Byron and himself took place. She had left London a few days before on a visit to her father in Leicestershire, and Lord Byron was to follow her as soon as he could make some arrangements of his mo- ney affairs. They had parted in kindness. She wrote him on the road a letter in a style of the most playful fondness imagina- ble, but immediately on her arrival at Kirkby Mallory, the seat of her family, her father wrote, informing him that she would not again return. They never afterwards met. The particular causes of this event still remain in obscurity. The reader will find Lord Byron's views of the subject detailed in many of his letters, and elsewhere throughout his writings. His Lan slowly but surely. Once more, adieu. 1 ' LETTER II. TO MR. PIGOT. u 16 Piccadilly, August 9th, 1806. K MY DEAR PIGOT, "Many thanks for your amusing narrative of the last proceedings of mv amiable Alcrto* who now begins to feel the effects of her folly. I have just received a pe- nitential epistle, to which, apprehensive of pursuit, 1 have despatched a moderate answer, with a kmd of pro- mise to return in a fortnight ; — this, however, (entre runt*,) I never mean to fulfil. Her soft warbtings must have delighted her auditors, her higher notes being particularly musical, and on a calm moonlight evening would be heard to great advantage. Had I been present as a specta- tor, nothing would have pleased me more ; but to have come forward as one of the ' dramatis persona*-,' — St. Dominic defend me from such a scene! Seriously, your mother has laid mc under great obligations "Rd* you, with the rest of vour faintly, merit my warmest thanks for your kind connivance at my escape from 'Airs. Byron f annua. 1 "Oh! for the pen of Ariosto to rehearse, in epir, the scolding of that momentous ece, — or rather, let me invoke the shade of Dante to inspire me, for none but the au- thor of the * Inferno could properly preside over such an attempt. But, perhaps, where the pen might fail, the pencil would succeed. What a group!— Mrs. B. the principal figure ; you cramming your ears with cotton, as the only antidote to total deafness ; Mrs. m vain endeavouring to mitigate the wrath of the lioness robbed of her whelp; and last, though not least, Elizabeth and IVousky, — wonderful to relate ! — both deprived of their parts of speech, and bringing up the rear in vtute asto- nishment. How did S. B. receive the intelligence? How manvputu did he utter on so facetious an event? In vour next inform me on this point, and what excuse vou made to A. You are probably by this time tired of deciphering this hieroglyphical letter ; — like Tony Lump- kin, vou will pronounce mine to be a d d up and down hand. All Southwell, without doubt, is involved in amazement. Apropos, how does my blue-eyed nun, the fair * * ? is she * robed in suhle garb of von V " Here I remain at least a week or ten days ; previous to my departure you shall receive my address, but what it will be I have not determined. My lodgings must be kept secret from Mrs. B.; you may present my compli- ments to her, and sav anv attempt to pursue mc will (kiL as I have taken measures to retreat immediately to Portsmouth, on The first intimation of her removal from Southwell. Vou may add, I have now proceeded to a friend's house in the country, there to remain a fortnight. " I have now blotted (I must not say written) a com- plete double letter, and in return shaH expect a monstrous budget. Without doubt, the dames of Southwell repro- bate the pernicious example I have shown, and tremb'e lest their babes should disobey their mandates, and quit in dudgeon their mammas on any grievance. Adieu. When you begin your next, drop the 'lordship,' and put ' Byron' iu its place. Believe me yours, &c. 'Braov. * Hia Mother. Her recent -rislenee of temper bed compelled him to fly to London. LETTER IIL TO MISS PIGOT, " London, August 10th, 180(5 H MY DEAR BRIDGET, ■ As I have already troubled your brother with moe e than he will find pleasure in deciphering, you are the next to whom I shall assign the difficult employment of perusing this 2d epistle. You will perceive from my 1st, u\ai no idea of Mrs. B.'s arrival had disturbed me at tha LEI fERS, 1800. ♦'.mo ii was written; not so the present, since the ap- ■-■ of a n >te from the iSusti i as caust of i Kcampmcnt has driven the 'natural ruby from my and completely blanched my wo-begone counte- nance. This gunpowder intimation of her arrii found her activity!) breathes less of terror and than you will probably imagine from the perame*' of her ladyaMpi and concludes with the com- fortable assurance of all present motion being prevented k. the fatigue of her journey, lor which my Wea due to the rough roads and restive quadrupeds ofliis ma- jesty's highways. As I have not the smallest in< to be chased round the country, I shall *.-*<- r j make a met ii <»f necessity} and since, like Macbeth, 'TheyVe tied me to the stake, I cannot By, 1 1 shall imitate that tralorous tyrant, and ! bear-tike fight the coui ■ ■.' all escape being precluded. I can now engage with less disadvantage, having drawn the enemy from her inti enchments, though, iike the prototype to whom I have compared myself] with an excellent chance of hem,' knocked on the head. However, 'lay on, Macduff] and d d be he who first cries, hold, enough. 1 "I shall remain in town for, at least, a week, and ex- pect to hear from you before its expiration. I presume the printer has brought you the offspring of m) poetic mania. Remember, in the first hue, to read l Ioud the winds whistle, 14 instead of 'round,' which that 1>! Ridge has inserted by mistake, and makes nonsense of the whole stanza. Addio !— Now to encounter my Hydra. Yours ever. 1 ' LETTER IV, TO MR. PIGOT. "London, Sunday, midnight, August 10th, 1806. B DEAR PIGOT, "This astonishing packet will, doubtless, amaze you, but having an idle hour this evening, T wrote the enclosed stanzas, which I request vou to deliver to Ridge, to be printed separate from my other compositions, as you will perceive them to be improper fur the perusal of ladies; of course, none of the females of your family must see them. I offer a thousand apologies tor tin- trouble I have given you in this and other instances. Yours truly." LETTER V. TO MR. MGOT. "Piccadilly, August 16th, 1806. "I cannot exactly say with Caesar, ' Vein, vidi, vici:' however, the most important part of his laconic account of success applies to my present situation; for, though Mrs. Byron took the trouble of l coming? and l seeing) vet your humble servant proved the victor. After an obsti- nate engagement of some hours, in which we suffered considerable damage, from the quickness of the enemy'f tire, they at length reined in confusion, leaving behind the artillery, field equipage, and some prisoners; their <\< feat is decisive of the present campaign. To speak mure in- telligibly, Mrs. B. returns immediately, but I proceed, with all my laurels, to Worthing on the Sussex coast ; to which place you will address (to I e left at the post- office) your next epistle. By the enclosure of a 2d jingle of rhymes you will probably cone.-i\ <• niv muse to be vastly prolific ; her inserted production Was broughl forth a few years ago, and found by accident on Thurs- day among some old papers. I have recopied it, and, adding the proper date, request it maybe printed with the rest of the family. I thought your sentiments on the ' Ses Hoiift vi kllencn, [>«g possible to give il an} ■ i< ing founded on fodU tfystaj at Worthing will not exceed three weeks, and vou may possibly behold me again al Southwell the tnioV die of September. ******** " Will you desire B idge to suspend the priming of my poems till he hears further from me, as I have deter- mined to give thorn a bow form entirely. This prohibi- tion does not extend to the last two pieces 1 have sent with my letters* to you. You will excuse the '/" /; of this epistl^ as ni\ brain is a chuos of absurd images, and full of business, pr and projects. '1 shall expect an answer with impatience; — believs me, there is nothing at tins moment could give me gTcaiei delight than your letter." LETTER VI. TO MR. PIGOT. • "London, A *t, 18th, 1806. "I am just on the point of setting off foi Worthin I writ merely to request you will send that idle *coundre. Charles, [his groom,] withm) horses immediately; tell him 1 am excessively provoked he has not made his appear- ance before, or written to inform me of the cause of his delay, particularly as I supplied him with money for hU journey. On no pretext is he t ■ ■ postpone his march one day longer, and ifj in obed > to the I Mrs. 13. (who, I presume, is again preading desolation through her little monarchy,) he thinks proper to disregard my positive orders, T shall not, in future, consider him as my servant He must bring the surgeon's bill with him, which I will discharge immedi i ivingit Nor can 1 conceive the reason of his not acquainting Frank, [his valet,] with the state of my unfortunate quadrupeds. Dear Pigot, forgive this petulant effusion, and attribute it to the idle conduct of that precious rosco^ who, instead of obeying im injunctions, id sauntering through the streets uf that political PantL " ottingham. Present my remembrances to your family and the Leacrafts, and believe me, &c. " P. S. I delegate to yon the unpleasant task of de- spatching him on his journey — Mrs. B.'s orders to tlm contrary are not to be attended to ; he is to proceed first to London, and then to Worthing, « ithoul delay. Even thing I have left must be sent to London. ]\K Pot \ will pack ttj> for the same place, and not even rvsewe a copy for yourself and sister, as I am al an entire new form: when they are complete, you shall have the first fruits. Mrs. B. on no account is to see or touch them. Adieu." LETTER VII. TO MR. PIOOT. "Little Hampton, August 26th, 1S06. "I this morning received your epistle, which I was obliged to Bondforto Worthing, whence 1 hare removed to this plaee, on the same coast, about ei-hl miles distant from the former. You wil! probably not be Bsp with this letter, when it informs you that I am 30,000/. ruber than I was at our parting', having just received in- i e from my lawyer thai a cause lias been gained at Lancaster assizes,* which will be worth that sum by the tune I come of age. Mrs. B. is doubtless acquainted of this acquisition, though not apprized of its exact value, of which she had bettor be ignorant, for her behaviour i foi llw morel y i ' ■'jtrtj. LETTERS, IS07. on anv sudden piece of favourable intelligence is, if possi- ble, more ridiculous than her detestable conduct on the DBOSl trifling circumstance of an unpleasant nature. You may give my compliments to her, and say that her ing my servant's things shall only lengthen my ab- sence ; for unless they are immediately despatched to [6 Piccadilly) together with those which have been so Ions delayed belonging to myself she shall never again benold my radiant countenance illuminating her gloomy mansion. If they are sent, I may probably appear in lan two years from the date of my present epistle. "Metrical compliment is an ample reward for my strains; you are one of the few votaries of Apollo who unite the sciences over which that deity presides. I ■'ii to send my poems to my lodgings m London immediately, as I have several alterations and some ad- ditions to make ; every copy must be sent, as I am about to amend them, and you sha! 1 soon behold them in ;ill their glory. I hope you have kept them from that Upon tree y that antidote to the arts, Mrs. B. Entre nou-% — you may expect to see me soon. Adieu. Yours ever." LETTER VIII. K MY DEAR BRIDGET, a I have oidv just dismounted from my Pegmutj whicl has prevented me from descending to plain prose in an epistle of greater length to yourjair self. You regretted hi a former letter, that my poems were not more exten- sive : I now for your satisfaction announce that I have nearly doubled them, partly by the discovery of some I conceived to be lost, and partly by some new productions. "We shall meet on Wednesday next; till then, believe me yours affectionately, " Bvron. K P. S. Your brother John is seized with a poetic mania, and is now rhyming away at the rate of three lines per hour — so much for inspiration I Adieu !'* LETTER IX. TO THE EARL OF CLARE. "Southwell, Notts, February fath, 1807. ■lfY DEAREST CLAREj * Were I to make all the apologies necessary to atone fonmy late neglig mce, you would justly say yon had re- ceived a petition instead of a letter, as it would be filled witmprayers for forgiveness; but instead of this, I will acknowledge my sins at once, and I trust to your friend- ship and generosity rather than to my own ■ Though mv health is not perfectly re-established, I am all danger, and have recovered every thing bu1 my Impression. You will be as- 1 to hear I have lately written to Delawarre, for the puroose of explaining (as far a.s possible, without in- ■ s"ine "/-/ Jrirnds of mine in the business) the ■ (rnviour to him during my last resi I Harrow, (nearly two years ago,) which you will recollect was rather l cn cmu/ier.' Since that period I have dis- I he was treated with injustice, both by those who misrepresented his con luct, and by me in consequence of their suggestions. I have therefore mad*; all the repara- tion in my power, by apologizing for my mistake, with very faint hopes of success ; indeed I never c anv answer, but desired one for form's sake; (W has arrived, and most probably never wUL However, I have taxed my own conscience by the atonement, which is humiliating enough to one of my disposition , vet I could not have slept satisfied with the reflection of bavin jr, intentionally, injured any individual. I have done all that could be done to repair the injury, and there the affair must end. Whether we renew our intimacy or not is of very trivial consequence. K My time has lately been much occupied with very different pursuits. I have been transporting a servant,* who cheated me, — rather a disagreeable event: per- forming in private thea'ricals; publishing a volume ol at the request of my friends, for their perusal ;) m ikin love, and taking physic. The last two amuse- ments have not had the best effect in the world; for my attentions have been divided among so many fair damsels, and the drugs I swallow are of such variety in their com- en Venus and iEscuIapius I am harassed to death. However, I have still leisure to de- vote some hours to the recollections of past, regretted lips, and in the interval to take the advai the moment, to assure you how much I am, and eVer will be, my dearest Clare, * Your truly attached and sincere "Byrow" LETTER X. TO MR. PIGOT. « Southwell, Jan. 13,1807. " I ought to begin with sundry apologies, for my own rice, but the variety of mv avocations in prose and as! plead my excuse. With this epistle you will receive a volume of all my Juvenilia published since your departure : it is of considerably greater size than the copy in your possession, which I beg you will destroy, as the pres Hi is much nine complete. That unlucky poem to my poor IVIaryf has been the cause of some animadver- sion from ladies in years. I have not printed it in this collection, in consequence of my being pronounced a mosl y ■■ ■ '', in short, a f young Jtfnoref by , your * friend. I believe in general they have hecn favourably received, and surely the age of their author will preclude severe criticism. The ad- lifc from sixteen to nineteen, and the dis- sipa'ion into which I have been thrown in London, have given a voluptuous tint to my ideas; but the occasions which called forth my muse could hardly admit any other colouring. This volume is vastly correct and miracu- lously - haste. Apropos, talking of love, * * * * " If you ran find leisure to ansuer this farrago of un- conno '■ 1 n insense, you need not doubt what gratifies.'* LU accrue from your reply to yours ever, &c" LETTER XL TO MR. WILLIAM BAXKES. "Southwell, March C.1S07. " DEAB P WKES, "Your criiiqui valuable for many reasons: in the first pla ■ | il i- Lhe only one in which flattery has borne I a part ; in the next, I am cun/ed with insipid compliments. I have a better opinion of your judgment and ability than vourj Accept my most sincere ; ■<■ your kin ! dei ision,nol less welcome, because totally un to a more exact esu- rei ow few of the best poems, m our language, will stand the test of minute or i criticism: it can therefore hardly be expected the effu- sions of a boy, (and most of these pi< en pro- duccd al an early period,) can derive much merit either from the subject or composition. Many of them wero written under great depression of spirits, and during Be- • I1i< »*tel F'niiilr. i i \>iry" liere mentioned wm not Hie heiress of Ann«f?y, nor ■' ' ui" Abenleeu. Tin rertea lii the Hours of Ldlenui, en. ;.iciurc," were acklre,» id lo tier. , I -.. be '■ Rwuii gfldJeuaM." LETTERS, 1807. vere indisposition ; hence the gloomy turn of the ideas. A\ <■ coincide in opinion that the t poeae» erotfyuef 1 are the most exceptionable; they were, however, grateful to the deities, on whose altars they were* offered — more I seek not. "The portrait of Pornpowis* was drawn at Harrow, after a long sitting; this accounts for the resemblance, or rather the carieatura. He is your friend, he never was mine — for hoth our takes I shall be silent on this head. The collegiate rhymes art- not personal; one of the notes may appear so, but could not !><■ omitted. 1 have little doubt they will be deservedy abuse 1 ; a just punishment for my until ial treatment of so excellent an Alma Mater. I si -in von n< i eopv, lest (if should he placed in the Situa- tion of #tf Bias and 'he Arckbishop of Grenada: though running some hazard from the experiment, I wished your v&dicl to be unbiassed. Had my ( Xi6eJiWbaen pre- sented previous to your letter, it would have appeared a ppecieB of bribe to purchase compliment 1 feel no hesi- tation hi saying, I was more an moms to hear your critique, however severe, titan the praises of the million. On the same day l was honoured with the .encomiums of JMoo kensfe, the celebrated author of the 'Man of Peeling.' Whether Jus approbation or yours elated me most, I can- i ol decide. u You will receive my Juvenilia, at least all yet pub- hslird. I have a larire volume in manuscript, which may in pari appear hereafter: at present I have neither lime nor inclination to prepare it for the press. In the sprinj; | shall return to Trinity, to dismantle my rooms, and hid you a final adieu. The Cam will not be much increased by mv tears on the occasion. Your farther re- marks, however causticoi hitter to a palate vitiated with the sweets of adulation, will be of service. Johnson has shown us that no poetry is perfect; but to correct mine would be an Herculean labour. In fact I never looked beyond the moment of composition, and published merely at the request of my friends. Notwithstanding so much has been said concerning the 'Genus irritabile vatum,' we shall never quarrel on the subject Poetic fame is bv no means die 'acme 1 of my wishes. Adieu. "Yours ever, "Bvhon." be exchanged, and others substituted in their place, The whole will be considerably enlarged, and appeal the latter end of May. This is a hazardous experiment; but want of better employment, the encouragement I have met With, and my own vanity, iirdure me to stand the toot, though not without sundry palpitations. The book will circulate fast enough in this country, tram mere curiosity, what I prill " LETTER XIT. TO MR. WILLIAM BAKXE8. — [FRAGMENT.] ° For my own part, T have suffered severely in the de- cease of my two greatest friends, the only beings 1 ever loved, (fniahs excepted:) I am therefore a solitary animal, miserable enough, and so perfectly a citizen of the world, thaVwhether 1 pass my days in Great Britain or Kamschatka is to me a matter of perfect indifference. I cannot evince greater respect for your alteration than by immediately adopting it — this shall be done in the next edition, 1 am Borry your remarks are not more frequent, as! am certain they would be equally benefi- cial. Since my last, 1 have received two critical opi- nions from Edinburgh, both too flattering for me to de- tail. (>ne is from Lord Woodhouslee, ai the head of the Scotch literati, and a most voluminous writer, (his last work is a life of Lord Kaunas;) the other from Mao keusie, who sent his decision a second time, more at length. I am not personally acquainted with either of "rut!- nk'm, nor ever requested their sentiments on the subject: their praise is voluntary, ami transmitted through the medium of a friend, at whoso house they re id the productions. •m 'ontrary.to my former intention, I am now preparing a volume for the public at large : my amatory pieces will LETTER XIIL TO MR. FALKNF.R. "The volume* of little pieces which accompanies this, would have been presented befoie, had I not been apprehensive that Miss FalkneVs indisposition might render such trifles unwelcome. There are some errors of the printer which I have not had time to correct in the collection: yon have it thus, with 'all its imperfections on its head,' a heavy weight, when joined with the faults of its author. Such 'Juvenilia,' as they can claim no great degree of approbation, I may venture to hope, will also escape the severity of uncalled for, though perhaps not undeserved, criticism. "They were written on many and various occasions, and are now published merely for the perusal of a friendly circle. Believe me, sir, if they afford the slightest amusement to yourself and the rest of my social readers, 1 shall have gathered all the bays 1 ever wish to adorn the head of " Yours, very truly, "Bvaow. "P.S. I hope Miss F. is in a state of recovery." LETTER XIV. TO MR. PIGOT. "Southwell, April, 1807. a MV DEAR PlflOT, "Allow me to congratulate you on the success of y Mir first examination — ' Courage, mon ami.' The tide of Dr. will do wonders with the damsels. I shall most probcu bly be in Essex or London when you arrive at this d — d place, where I am detained by the publication of r,»y rliynus. "Allien. — Believe mo yours very truly, " BVRQ*. " P. S. Since we met, I have reduced myself by violent exercise, much physic, and hot bathing, from 14 stone 6 lb. to \2 stone 7 lb. In ail I have losi 27 poinds. Bravo! — what say you?" LETTER XV. TO BUSS PIGOT. * Doctor Bitttar, Head Muter id Harrow ScluxJ. Set *' Houn of Mlvuet*," yixyt 109, &*. ' June II th, 1807. "pFAR qiTFN nF.SS, " S,n ,. t """^lit l" be immortal: — though not Klhormieh- hrtd butt-dog, he i< the finest puppy I ever m», and will answer much better; in his great and manifold kindi.i-ss he has already bitten my fingers, and disturbed the gravity of old Boatswain, who is grinou.ilu duqJhpOMd. I wish to be informed what he cust«, his rrpentrs, &c. &C, i hai 1 may indemnify Mr. G . My thanks are alt I can give for the trouble he has taken, make a long ' The Hour, of IdUum. LETTERS, 1807. speech, and conclude it with 12 3 4 5 6 7.* I am out of practice, 'So deputize you as Leslie, — ambassador wouli not do in a matter concerning the Pope, which I presum this must, as the whole turns upon a Bull. Yours, "Byron. ■ P. S. I write in bed." LETTER XVI. TO MISS PIGOT. "Cambridge, June 30th, IS07. " ' Better late than never, Pal,' is a saying of which you biovv the origin, and as it is applicable on the present oc- casion, you will excuse its conspicuous place in the front of my epistle. I am almost superannuated here. My old friends, (with the exception of a very Tew,) all de- parted, and I am preparing to follow them, but remain till Monday to be present at three Oratorios, two Concerts, a Fair^ and a Ball. I tind I am not oi\\y thinner but taller by an inch since my last visit. 1 was obliged to tell every body my name, nobody having the least recollection of my v'tsage or person. Even the hero of my Cornelian,] (who is now sitting vis-i}-vis y reading a volume of my Poetics,) passed me in Trinity walks without recognising me in the least, and was thunderstruck at the alteration which had taken place in my countenance, &c. &c. Some say I look better, others worse, but all agree I am thinner — more I do not require. I have lost 2 lb. in mv weight since I left our cursed, detestable, and abhorred abode of scandal, where, excepting yourself and John Bucher, I care not if the whole race were consigned to the Pit of Acheron, which I would visit in person rather than contaminate my somdaU with the polluted dust of Southwell. Seriously, unless obliged by the emptiness of my purse to revisit Mrs. B., you will see me no more. " On Monday I depart for London. I quit Cambridge with little regret, because our set are vanished, and my musical protege 1 before mentioned has left the choir, and is stationed in a mercantile house of considerable eminence in the metropolis. You may have heard me observe he is exactly, to an hour, two years younger than myself. I found him grown considerably, and, as you will suppose, very glad to see his former Patron. He is nearly my height, very thin, very fair complexion, dark eyes, and light locks. My opinion of his mind you already know ; —1 hope I shall never have occasion to change it. Every body here conceives me io be an invalid. The university at present is very gay, from the fetes of divers kinds. I supped out last night, but eat (or ate) nothing, sipped a bottle of claret, went to bed at 2 and rose at S. I have commenced early rising, and find it agrees with me. The Masters and the Fellows all very polite, but look a little askance — don't much admire lampoons — truth al- ways disagreeable. ** Write, and tell me how the inhabitants of vour mena- gerie go on, and if my publication goes <#?"well: do the quadrupeds growl/ Apropos, my bull-dog is deceased — ' Flesh both of cur and man is grass.' Address your an- swer to Cambridge. If I am gone, it will be forwarded. Sad news just arrived — Russians beat — a had set, eal nothing but oily consequently must melt before a hardjire. I get awkward in my academic habiliments for want of practice. Got up in a window to hear the oratorio at St. Mary's, popped down in the middle of the JMtssiah, tore a woful rent in the back of my best black silk gown, and damaged an egregious pair of breeches. Mem. — never tumble from a church window during service. Adieu, dear * * * * ! do not remember me to any body: — to forget and be forgotten by the people of Southwell is all I aspire to." • He here allurles to an o<1<1 fancy or trick ofhis own ; whenever he wn at a lots for tamethiog to ray, he used la Enbble over " I 234 56 7." f Mr. Edlutoa. See Iheliliei " to F.." Hours of Idhjiwes, pa-e39I; •fid "The Cornelian," Hours of IdUne»*, jmy, 386. LETTER XVII. TO MISS PIOOT. "Trin. Coll.Camb. July 5th, 1S07. "Since my last letter I have determined to reside another year at Grant a, as my rooms, &c. &c. are finished in great style, several old friends come up again, and many new acquaintances made; consequently, my incli- nation leads me forward, and I shall return to college in October, if still alive. My life here has been one con- tinued routine of dissipation — out at different places every day, engaged to more dinners, Sac. Sac. than my stay would permit me to fulfil. At this moment I write with a bottle of claret in my head, and tears in my eyes ; for I have just parted with my l Cornelian? who spent the evening with me. As it was our last interview, I postponed my engagement to devote the hours of the Sabbath to friend- ship : — Edleston and I have separated for the present, and my mind is a chaos of hope and sorrow. To-mor- row I set out for London : you will address your answer to 'Gordon's Hotel, Albemarle-street,' where 1 sojourn during my visit to the metropolis. " I rejoice to hear you are interested in my protest'-: he has been my almost' constant associate since October, 1805, when I entered Trinity College. His voice first at- tracted nry attention, his countenance fixed it, and his maimers attached nie to him for ever. He departs fhr a mercantile house in town in October, and we shall pro- bably not meet till the expiration of my minority, when I shall leave to his decision either entering as a partner through my interest, or residing with me altogether. Of course he would in his present frame of mind prefer the latter, but lie mav alter his opinion previous to that period; — however, he shall have his choice. I certainly love him more than any human being, and neither time nor distance have had the least effect on my (in general) changeable disposition. In short, we shall put I sidy E. Butler and ]\Iiss Ponsojiby to the blush, Pylades and Orestes out of countenance, and want nothing but a ca- tastrophe like JVi^is and Euryalua, to give Jonathan and David the *go by.' He certainly is perhaps more at- tached to me than even I am in return. During the whole of my residence at Cambridge we met every day, summer and winter, without passing one tiresome mo- ment, and separated each time with increasing reluc- tance. I hope you will one Jay see us together, he is the only being I esteem, though 1 like many.* " The Marquis of T:i\ istocl; was down the other day ; I supped with him at his tutor's — entirely a whig party. The opposition muster strong here now, and Lord Huntingdon, the Duke of Leinster,&c. &c, are to join us in * October, so every thing will be splendid. Tin- musu is all over at present. Met with another l acddeney 3 — upset a butter-boat in the lap of a lady — look'd very blue — spectators grinned — 'curse Vui!' Apropos, sorry to say, been drunk every day, and not quite softer yet — how- ever, touch no meat, nothing but fish, soup, and vegeta- bles, consequently it does me no harm — sad dogs all the Cantabs. Mem. — u>< mean torefbmi next January. This place is a monotony of endless variety — like it — ha!e Southwell. Has Ridge sold well' or do the ancients demur? What lathes have bought? * * * * "Saw a girl at St. Mary's the image of Anne * * *, thought it was her — all in the wrong — the lady stared, so did I — I blushed, so did not the lady — sad thing — wish women had more modesty. Talking of women, puts me in mind of my terrier Fanny — how is she ? Got a head- ache, must go to bed, up early in the morning to travel Edleiton. Sue Letter 101, LETTERS, 1807. My protej;^ hreakfa-sts with me ; parting spoils mv appe- tite— excepting from Southwell. Mem. — I halt well. Yours, &c." LETTER XVIII. TO MISS riGOT. "Gordon's Hotel, July 13th, 1807. "You write most excellent epistles — :i fig for other correspondents with their nonsensical apologies for [ jbl0inng nought tihmit it? — you smd m<; a ,j, h liifnl budget. I am here in a perpetual vortex <>f dl (very pleasant for all that,) and, strange to tell, I get tliiiiin-r, being now below eleven Stone considerably. Stay in town a month, perhaps six weeks, trip into Essex, and then, as a favour, irradiate Southwell for three days with the light of my counten r. bul nothing shall [ positivi return to Cambridge in October; we are to be uncommonly gay, or in truth I should cut [he I 'niversity. An extraordinary circumstance occurred to me a( Cambridge, a :'irl so very like ** * made her appearance, thai nothing but the most minute inspection could have undeceived me. 1 wish I had asked \fsht had ever been atH * * *. 8 vYhai the devil would Ridg. i ! is not fifty in a fortnight, before the advertisements] o sufficient sal-' ? I near many of the London booksellers have them, and Crosby lias sent copies to the principal watering-places. Are they liked or not in Southwell ?***** I wish I'uatswuin had sinUluwcd Damon! How is Bran? by the immortal [ods, Bran ought to be a Count of the H»hi Rinnan Km fire. * * * "The intelligence of London cannot be interesting to you, who have rusticated all your life — the annals of routs, riots, balls, and boxlng-matchesj cards and crim. cons., parliamentary discussion, political details, mas* quera les, mechanics, Argyle-street Institution and aquatic races, love and lotteries, Brooke's and Buona- parte, opera-singers and oratorios, wine, women, wax- works, and weathercocks, can't accord with vour msur Id"! id' as "i decoi am and other silly expressions not in- serted in our vocabulary. "Oh! Southwell, Southwell, how I rejoice to have left thee, and how 1 curse tho heavy hours I dr. i "-,.,( alontj, for so many months, among the Mohawks who inhabit your kraals! — However, one thing I donol regret, which is having par^d qffz. sufficient quantity of flesh t.. enabl ■ me to slip into 'an eel skin, 1 an ( vie with the ttim beaux ol no Ii rn times ; thoag! , I am.sorry to sd , it seems to be the mode among ■■■ row/a*, and I am told ! am al hast 141b. below the fashion. However, I de- crease instead of enlarging, which is extraordinary, as violent exercise in London is impracticable ; b*ul 1 attri- bute thep/u nojnenon too irewi rung vptet sea at public and private parties. I \f I.onl Byron m I ■ lllg Ii IW |'l:"l ■ I I < Iir.- U (for lir\ dBM nr intau,) 1 1 1 t"iu ■ i BntUfts, n i ii ■.-. ! ■ i, i. . nLIc ilmre ol i I mine art simple nncl flowing, though occasion! 'I) ii.h ■■ —strong iiml * times liTc»i»lible uppeals 10 lie ft Th I' Ihc pM -o.i wni k ma) m i eqi si : . u .jituaniiyTCtlLjauct," *c.&c- Aloort . LETTERS, [807. J at least in all probability: excepting yourself; T esteem no one within its precincts. You were my only to tional companion ; and in plain truth, I had more respecl for you than the whole Aevy, with whose foibles I amused mj ■ If in compliance with their prevailing propensities. You gave yourself more trouble with me and my manu- scripts than a thousand dolls would have done. Be- lieve me, I have not forgotten your good-nature in this nrcle of sin, and one day [ trust I shall he able to evince fliy gratitude. Adieu, yours, ice. u P. S. Remember me to Dr. P. B LETTER XX. TO MISS PIGOT. '•London, August 11th, 1307. "On Sunday next I set off for the Highlands.* A friend of mine accompanies me in my carriage to Edin- burgh. There we shall leave it, and proceed in a tnu- d'em, (a speries of open carriage,) through the western passes to Inverary, where we shall purchase shdties, to enable us to view places inaccessible to vehicular con- .. On the coast we shall hire a vessel and visit the most remarkable of the Hebrides, and, if we have time and favourable weather, mean to sail as far a-- Ice- land, only three hundred miles from the northern ex- tremity of Caledonia, to peep al Htxta. Tins last inten- tion you will keep a secret, as mv nice mamma would imagine I was on a Voyage of Discovery, and raise the accustomed maternal war-whoop. "Last week T swam in the Thames from Lambeth through the two bridges, Westminster and Blac-kfriars, a distance, including the different turns ami tacks made on the way, of three miles! You see I am in exi ellent training in case of a squall at sea. I mean to collect all the Erse traditions, poems, &c. &c, and translate, or expand the subject to fill a volume, which may appear next spring under the denomination of i Tke Highland Harp* or some title equally picturesque. Of Bosworth Field, one book is finished, another just begun. It will be a work of three or four years, and most probably never conclude. What would you say to some stanzas on Mount Hecla? they would be written at least with fire. How is the immortal Bran? and the Phoenix of canine quadrupeds, Boatswain? I have lately pur- chased a thorough-bred bull-dog, worthy to be the CO- adjutor of the aforesaid celestials— his nante is Smut ! — ' bear it, ye breezes, on your balmy w ings. ] " Write to me before I set off, I conjure von by tl e fifth nb of your grandfather. Ridge goes on well with (lie books — I thought that, worthy had not done much m the country. In town they have been very successful ; Carpenter (Moore's publisher) told me a few da; theysold all theirs immediately, and had several inquiries made since, which, from the books being gone, they could not supply. The Duke of York, the Marchioness of Headfort, the Dutchess of Gordon, &c. &c. were among Be pun hasers, and Crosby says the circulation will be still more extensive in the winter; the summer season being very bad for a sale, as most people are ab- sent from London. However, they have gone off ex- tremely well altogether. I shall pass very near you on my joumey through Newark, but cannot approach. Don't tell this to Mrs. B., who supposes I travel a dif- ferent road. If you have a letter, order it to be left at Ridge's skop, where I shall call, or the post-office, New- ark, about 6 or 8 in the evening. If your brother would ride over, I should be devilish glad to see him — he can him Ui'uitt t»e lelLtiuuibwell, ert'iit in pra —Aly return the same night, or sup with us and go home next morning — the Kingston Arms is my inn. "Adieu, yours ever, "Biron " 1 - r . LETTER XXL TO MISS PIGOT. "Trinity College, Cambridge, Oct. 26th, 1807. K MY DEA.fi ****, "Fatigued with sitting up till four in the morning fo? the last two days at hazard, I take up my pen to inquire how your highness and the rest of my female acquaint- ance at the seat of archiepiscopal grandeur go on. I know I deserve a scolding for my negligence in not wri- ting more frequently; but racing up and down tho country for these last three months, how was it possible to fulfil the duties of a correspondent ? Fixed at last for six weeks, I write, as tfdn as ever, (not having gained an ounce since my reduction,) and rather in better humour ; — but, after all, Southwell was a detestable residence. Thank St. Dominica, I have done with it : I have been twice within eight miles of it, but could not prevail on myself to suffocaU in its heavy atmosphere. This place is wretched enough — a viilanous chaos of din and drunk- enness, nothing but hazard and Burgundy, hunting, mathematics and Newmarket, riot and racing. Yet it is a paradise compared with the eternal dulness of Southwell. Oh ! the misery of doing nothing but make love, enemies, and verses, "Next January (but this is entre nous only, and pray let it he so, or my maternal persecutor will be throwing her tomahawk at any of my curious projects) I am going to sea, for four or five months, with my cousin, Capt. Bettesworth, who commands the Tartar, the finest frigate in the navy. I have se#n most scenes, and wish to look at a naval life. We are. going probably to the Mediterranean, or to the West Indies, or — to the d [• and if there is a possibility of taking me to the latter Bettesworth will do it; for he has received four-and- twenty wounds in different places, and at this moment - a letter from the late Lord Nelson, stating Bettesworth as the only officer in the navy who had more wounds than himself.* " I have got a new friend, the finest in tho world, a tame bear. When I brought him here, they asked me vhat I meant to do with him, and my reply was, 'he ihould sit lor ii fellowship} Sherard will explain the meaning of the sentence, if it is ambiguous. This an- swer delighted them not. We have several parties I this evening a larje assortment of jockeys gamblers, boxers, authors, parsons, and poets, sup with , — a precious mixture, but they go on well together: and i" i me, I am a spice of ever} thing except a jockey; by-the-by, I was dismounted again il ther day. Thank your brother in mv name for his treatise. I have written £14 pages of a novel, — one poem of 380 lines,'} to be published (without my pame) m a few w-L-eks, with notes, — oGO lines .if Bnsworth Kn-ld, and 2.00 lines of i ther poem in rhyme, besides half a dozen i dler pie< i s. The poem to be published is a Satire , I have been praised to the slues in the Critical Review, and abused greatly in another publication, ^o ii i ue 1 1 I lie better, they i ell m.-, tor the sale of the book; it spa up controversy, and prevents it being forgotten. Besides, the first men of all ages have had their share, nor do the humblest escape ; — so I bear il like a philo- sopher. It is odd two opposite critiques came out on the same day, and out of five pages of abuse my censor only quotes two lines from ditferent poems, in support of ■ Pw |ioit»cri{ji lo di" RiiglMi rtmK ,-unl Scotch Reviewer** ( Kn^Nli BahIi ami Smith Review oil • e LETTERS, 1809 his o, union. Now the proper way to ait up is to quote long passage*, and make them appear absurd, because simple allegation is no proof. On the other hand, there are seven pages of praise, and more than my modtsty will allow said on the subject. Adieu. ■P. S. Write, write, write ! ! I" LETTER XXII. TO MR. DALLAS. 'Dorant's Hotel, Albemarle-street, Jan. 20th, 1808. 8 Your letter was not received till this morning, I pre- sume from being addressed to me in Notts, where I have not resided since last June, and as the date is the 6th, you will excuse the delay of my answer. "If the little volume 1 * you mention has given pleasure to the author of Perav -J and Auhrcy, I am sufficiently repaid by Ins praise. Though our periodical censors have been uncommonly lenient, I confess a tribute from a man of acknowledged genius is still more Battering. But I am afraid 1 should forfeit all claim to candour, if I did not decline such praise as I do not deserve; and this is, I am sorry to Say, the case in the present in- stance. K My compositions speak for themselves, and must stand or fall by their own worth or demerit : thus f*ir I f) al highly gratified by your favourable opinion. Bui luv pretensions to virtue arc Unluckily so few, thai thou [h 1 should be happy to merit, I cannot accept, your n\*- plausc in that respect. One passage in your letter struck me forcibly: you mention the two Lords Lyttle- ton in a manner they respective!) deserve, and will he surprised to hear the person who is now addressing you has been frequently compared tu the latter, I know 1 am injuring myself in your esteem by tins avowal, hut die circumstance was so remarkable from your observa- tion, that I cannot help relating the fact. The events of my short life have been of so singular a nature, that, though the pride commonly called honour has, an- 1 1 trust ever will, prevent me from disgracing my name by a mean or cowardly action, I have been already held up as tin \L,t,-iry <>f licentiousness, and the disciple of infidelity. How far justice may have dictated tins accusation I cannot pretend to say, hut, like the gentleman to whom in v religious ti iends, in the warmth of their charity, have already devoted me, I am madr wins.- than I really am. However, to (put myself, (the worsl theme 1 could pitch upon,) and return to my Poems, I cannot sufficiently ex- press my thanks, and I hope I shall some day have an opportunity of rendering them in person. A second edi- tion is now in the press, v ith some additions and consi- derable omissions; you will allow me to present you with a copy. The (.'ill i. a I, Monthly, ami &nti-JaCObin Reviews have been very indulgent; but the Eclectic has pronounced a furious Philippic, not against the book but the author, where you will find all I have mentioned asserted by a reverend divine who wrote the critique. " Tour name and connexion with our family have been long known to me, and I hope your person will bo not less so ; you will find me an excellent compound of a 'Brainless' and a ' Stanhope.'f 1 am afraid you will hardly be able to read this, for my hand is almost as had as my character, but you will find me, as legibly as possible, " Your obliged and obedient servant, "Byron." vliiM ncie* j in ilw novel called Ptrclrol, LETTER XXILL TO MR. DALLAS. "Dorant's, January 21st, 1806. "sir, "Whenever leisure and inclination permit mc the pleasure of a visit, I shall fed truly gratified in a per- sonal acquaintance with one whose mind has been long known to me in his writings. ■ You are so far correct in your conjecture, that I am a member of the University of Cambridge, where I shall take my degree of A. M> tins term ; but were reasonmg, eloquence, or virtue the objecLs of my search, Granta is not their metropolis, nor is the place of her situation an ' Kl Dorado, 1 far less a Utopia. The intellects of her children are as stagnant as her Cam,* and their pursuits limited to the church — not of Christ, but of the nearest benefice. "As to my reading, I believe I may aver, without hy- perbole, it has hern tolerably extensive in the historical ; so that few nations e\i-t. .>r have existed, with whoso records I am not in soim- degree acquainted, from He- rodotus down to Gibbon. Of the classics, 1 know about as much as most school Ik^vs after a discipline of thirteen years ; of the law of the land as much as enables me to keep 'within the statute 1 — 1<> use the poacher's vocabu- lary. I did study the 'Spirit of Laws' and the Law of Nations; hut when I saw the latter violated every month, I gave up my attempts at so useless an accom- plishment ; — of geography, I have seen more land on maps than J should wish to traverse on foot : — of mathe- matics, enough to give me the headache without clearing the part affected ; — of philosophy, astronomy, and meta- ph\ -i's, more than I can comprehend ; and of common sense so little, that I mean to leave a Byronian prize at each of our ' Alma- A Litres' for the first discovery,— though I ruther fear that of the Longitude will pre- i ede it "I once thought myself a philosopher, and talked non- sense with great decorum: I defied pain, and preached up equanimity. For some time this did very well, for no one was in pain for me but my friends, and none lost their patience but my hearers. At last, a fall from my horse convinced me bodily suffering was an evil; and the worst of an argument overset my maxims and my temper at the same moment, so I quitted Zeno for Aris- tippus, and conceive that pleasure constitutes the to ko.\ov. In morality, I prefer Confucius to the Ten Command- ments, and Socrates to St. Paul, though the latter two agree in their opinion of marriage. In religion^] favour the Catholic emancipation, but do not acknowledge the Pope; and I have refused to take the Sacrament, be- cause I do not think eating bread or drinking wine from the hand of an earthly vicar "ill make me an mhriiter of heaven. I hold virtue in general, or the virtues se- verally, to be only in the disposition, each a.fcelmg, not a principle. 1 believe truth the prime attribute of the Deity ; and death an eternal sleep, at least of the body. You have here a brief compendium of the sentiments of the un ked George Lord Byron; and, till I get a new suit, you \\ ill perceive I am badly clothed. I remain, " Yours very truly, "Bfeaoff." LETTER XXrV. TO MR. HENKV DRURV.f " Dorant's Hotel, Jan. 13th, 1808. "my dear sir, " Though the stupidity of my servants, or the porter c the house, in not showing you up stairs, (where 1 shouH • SeeE.B. ftndS. R. p. 429. t Soi u f Do*ior Drurjr, Lord BfrsiTe former Muter at School. LETTERS, 1809. have joined you directly,) prevented me the pleasure of seeing you vestcrdav, I hoped to meet you at some pub- lic place in the evening. However, my stars decreed otherwise, as they generally do, when I have any favoui to request of them. I think you would have been sur- prised at my -figure, fur, since our last meeting, 1 am re- duced four stone in weight. I then weighed fourteen Blond seven pound, and now only ten stone and a half. I have disposed of my superfluities by means ofhard exer- cise and abstinence. * * * "Should your Harrow engagements allow you to visit town between this and February, I shall be most happy to Bee you in Alhemarle-street. If I am not so fortunate, I shall endeavour to join vou for an afternoon at Harrow, though, I fear, your cellar will by no means contribute tn my cure. As for my worthy preceptor, Dr. B., our encounter would by no means prevent the mutual endearments he and I were wont to lavish on each other. We have only spoken onee since my departure from Harrow in 1S05, and then lie politely told Tatersall I was not a proper associate for his pupils. This was long before my strictures in verse : but, in plain prose, had I been some years older, T should have held my tonjrue on his perfections. Rut being laid on my back, when that schoolboy thing was written — or rather dic- tated — expecting to rise no more, my physician bavin; taken hi-; sixteenth fee, and I his prescriplio . 1 coul I not quit this earth without leaving a memento of my constant attachment to Butler in gratitude for his mani- fold good offices. " I meant to have heon down in Julv ; but thinking my appearance, immediately after the publication, would be construed into an insult, I directed my steps elsewhere. Besides, I heard that some of the boys had ?ot hold "f my Llbettus, contrary to my wishes certainly, for I never transmitted a single copy till October, when I gave one to a boy, since gone, after repeated importunities. You will, 1 trust, pardon this egotism. As you had touched on the subject, I thought some explanation neci I tcience I shall not attempt, 'Hie raurus aheneus esto, nil consctre sibi' — and 'so on' (as Lord Baltimore said, on his trial for a rape) — I have been so long at Trim:;, as to forget the conclusion of the line; but, «hoi"?h I can* no] finish my quotation, I will my letter, and entreat you to believe me, gratefully and affectionately, &c. "P. S. I will not lay a tax on your time by requiring an answer, lest you say, as Butler said to Tatersall, (when I had written his reverence an impudent epistle on the expression before men'ioned,) viz. ' thai I wanted cu draw him into a correspondence." 1 the perusal of many of your compositions and several other circumsliUii es very pleasant in their day, which I will not force upon your memory, but entreat you to be- licve me, with nunh regret at their short continuance, and a hope they are not irrevocable, yours very sin- cerely, &c. " Byron." LETTER XXV. TO MR. HARNESS. ■Dorant's Hotel, Albematle-street, Feb. 11, 1S08. *MV DEAR HARNESS, "As I had no opportunity of returning my verbal thank?, I trust you will accept my written acknowledg- rnentsforthe compliment you were pleased to pay som production of my unluekv muse last November — 1 am induced to do this not less from the plea- ore [ f el in the praise of an old schoolfellow, than from justice to you, for I had heard the story with some slight variations. Indeed, when we met this morning Winsfield had n>'i undece.ved me, but he will tell you that I displayed nn resentment in mentioning what I had beard, tl zl 1 was not sorry to discover the truth. Perhaps you hardly recollect some years ago a short, though, for ihr time, a warm friendship between us? Why it was no of longer duration, I know not. 1 have still a gift of yours in ray possession, that must always prevent me from forgetting it, I also remember being favoured with 2 LETTER XXVI. TO MR. HARNESS. — [FRAGMENT.] "March 1 SOS. "We both seem perfectly to recollect, with a mixture of pleasure and regret, the hours we once passed to- gether, and I assure you most sincerely thev are num- bered among the happiest of my brief chronicle of enjoy- ment. I am now getting into l/ears^ that is to say, I was twenty a month ago, and another year will send me into the world to run my careei < I l >ilv with the rest. T was then just fourteen, — you were almost the first of my Harrow friends, certainly the first in my esteem, if not in date ; but an absence from I (arrow for some time, shortly after, and new connexions on your side, and the difference i induci (an advantage decidedly in your favour) from thai turbulent and riotous disposition of mine, which impelled me into every species of mischief, — all these tauces combined to di slroy an intimacy, which Vffi ( tion urged me to continue, and Memory compels me lo regret. But there is not a circumstance attending that period, hardly a sentence we exchanged, which is nol impressed on my mind at this moment. I need not say more, — this assurance alone must convince you, had I considered them as trivial, they would have been less indelible. How well I recollect the perusal of your 1 first (lights 1' There is another circumstance you i\o not know : — the first lines I ever attempted at Harrow were addressed to you. You were to have seen them; but Sinclair had the copy in his possession when wo went home ; — and, on our return, we were strangers Thev were destroyed, and certainly no great loss; but you will perceive from this circumstance my opinions at an age when we cannot be hypocrites. " I have dwelt longer on tins theme than [ intended, and I shall now conclude with what I ought to have be- gun. We were once friends, — nay, we have always been so, for our separation was the effect of chance, no! of dissension. I do not know how far our destinations m life may throw us together, but if opportunity and in- clination allow you to waste a thought on such a hare- brained being as myself, you will find me at least sincere, and nut so bigoted to in) faults as to involve others in thu consequences. Will you sometimes write to me? 1 do not ask it often, and, if we meet, let us be what we should he and what we (cut." LETTER XXVir. TO MR. BECHER. "Dorantfs Hotel, Feb. 2)5,1806 "my dear becber, « * * * * Now for Apollo. I am happy that vou slill retain your predilection, and that the public allow me some share of praise. I am of so much importance that a most violent attack is preparing for me m the next number of the Edinburgh Review. This I had from the authority of a friend who lias seen the proof and manuscript of the critique. You know the system of the Edinburgh gentlemen is universal attack. They praise none , and neither the public nor the author ex- pects praise from thein. It is, however, something to be noticed as 'hey profess to pass judgment only on worke requiring K Wt public attention. Vou will see tbis,wh«a 10 LETTERS, 1808. it comes out; — it i«, I understand, of the most unmerciful description ; but I am aware of it, and hope you will not be hurt by its severity. " Tell Mrs. Byron not to be out of humour with them, and to prepare her mind fur the greatest hostility on their part. It will do no injury whatever, and I trust her mind will not be ruffled. They defeat their object by mi ii i rirainate abuse, and (hey never praise) except the partisans of Lord Holland ami Co. It is nothing to be abused when Southey, Moore, Lauderdale, Strangfbrd, and Payne Knight share the same fate. "I am sorry — but 'Childish Ret must be suppressed during this edition. I have altered, at your ion, the obnoxious allusions in the sixth stanza of my last ode. "And now, my dear Bccher, I must return my best acknowledgments for the interest you have taken in me and my poetical bantlings, and I shall ever be proud to show how much I esteem the eulvice and the adviser. Believe me most truly, &c." LETTER XXVIII. TO MR. EECHER. "Dorant's, March 2 5, 1S08. ■I have lately received a copy of the new edition from Ridge, audit is liiyh lime i;,r me to return my best thanks to you for the trouble you have taken in the su- pei into adence. This I do most sincerely, and only re- gret that Ridge has not seconded you as I could wish, — at least, in the bindings, papt r, &c. of the copy he sent to me. Perhaps those for the public may be more re- Bp< ctable m such articles. "You have seen the Edinburgh Review, of course. 1 regret that Mrs. Byron is bo much annoyed. For my own [iart, these 'paper bullets of the brain' have only taught me to stand tire; and, as I have been lucky enough upon the whole, my repose and appetite are not discomposed. Pratt, the gleaner, author, poet, &c. &c, addressed a long rhyming epistle to me on the Buhject, by way of consolation ; but it was not well done, so I do not send it, though the name of the man might male il go down. The E. R\ have not performed their task well; — at least the literati tell me this, and I think/ could write a more sarcastic critique on myself than any yet published. For instance, instead of the remark, — ill-natured enough, but not keen, — about Mac Pherson, I (quoad reviewers) could have said, 'Alas, this imita- tion only proves the assertion of Doctor Johnson, thai many men, women, and children could write such poetry as Ossian's. 1 u I am thin and in exercise. During the spring or summer I I rust we shall meet. I hear Lord Ruthyn leaves Newstead in April. * * * As soon as he quits il for ever, I wish much you would take a ride over, survey the mansion, and give me your candid Opinion On Jic tin'si au\isal>le mode of pm. ceding with regard hi die house. Entre nous, I am cursedly dipped; my debts, tvery thing inclusive, will be nine or ten thousand before I am twenty-one. But I have reason to think my property will turn oul better than genera] expecta- tion may conceive. Of Newstead I have little hope or caro; but Hanson, my agent, miimated my Lancashire property was worth three Newsteads. I believe we have it hollow; though the defend. mis are protracting die surrender, if possible, till after my majority, for the purpose of firming some arrangi ment with me, thinking 1 shall probably prefer a sum in hand to a reversion. Newstead I luzyselt; — perhaps I will not, — taOOJjfa of that more anon. I will come down in Mayor June. • • • * "Yours most truly, &c." LETTER XXIX. TO IfB. JACKSON.* «N. A. Notts, Sept. 18, 1808. "dear jack, " I wish v-,u would inform me what has been done by JekyU, at No. 40, Sloan concerning the pony I returned as unsound. "I have also to request you will call on Louch at Brompton, and inquire what the devil he meant by sending su< h an insolent letter to me at Brighton ; and at the same tune tell him I by no means can with the charge he has made for things pretended to be daniaged. " Ambrose behaved most scandalously about the pony* You may tell Jekyll if lie does not refund the iimm \. i shall put the affair into my law nit's hands. Fiv< twenty guineas is a sound price lor a ponv, and bv ■■- i if it cost me five hundred pounds, I will make an exam- ple of Mr. Jekyll, and that immediately, un is returned. K Believe me, dear Jack, &c." LETTER XXX. TO MR. JACKSON. "N.A.Notts, Oct. 4, 1808 "You will make as good a bargain as possible with Una Master Jekyll, if he is not a gentleman. If he is a gentlemaiif inform me, for 1 shall take very different steps. If he is not, you must get what you can of the money, fori have too much business on hand at present to commence an action. Besides, Ambrose is the man who ought to refund, — but I have done with him. You can settle with L. out of the balance, and dispose of the bidets, &e. as you best can. " 1 should be very glad to see you here ; but the house is filled with workmen and undergoing a thorough re- pair. I hope, however, to be more fortunate before many mouths have elap "If you Bee Bold Webster, remember me to him, and tell bun I have io regret Sydney, who has perished, I fear, in my rabbit warren, for we have seen nothing of him for the last fortnight. "Adieu. — Believe me, &c." LETTER XXXI. » TO MB. JACKSON. "N. A. Notts, Dec. 12,1808 " MY PK \R TACK, " You w ill gel the greyhound from the ownor at any price, and as many more of i lie same breed (male or fe- male) as you can collect. "Tell D'Egville his dress shall be returned — I am obliged to him for the pattern. 1 am sorry you should have so much trouble, but I was not aware of the diffi- culty of procuring the animals in question. 1 shall have finished part of my mansion in a few weeks, and, if you can pay me a visit at Christinas, I shall be very glad to see you. " Believe me, &c. n LETTER XXXII. TO MR. BECHKH. "Newstead Abbey, Notts, Sept. Mth, 1808. MY DEAR BECHF.R, " I am much obliged to you for your inquiries, and .shall profit by them accordingly. 1 am going to get un a play 'Hie PujiUal. See ooLc to Don hi&r., C»ulo XI. LETTERS, 1909. 11 here ; the hall will constitute a most admirable theatre. I have settled the dram. pers. and can do without ladies, as I have some voting friends who will make tolerable Substitutes for females, and we only want three male character-, beside Mr. Ilobhouse and myself for the play we have fixed on, which will be the Revenge. Prav direct Nicholson the carpenter to come over to me immediately, and inform me what day you will dine and Dass the night here. K Believe me, &.c." LETTER XXXIII. TO THE HONOURABLE* MRS. BYRON". "Newstead Abbey, Notts, Oct. 7th, 1803. "dear madam, "I have no beds for the H * * s, or any body else at present. The H * * s sleep at Mansfield. 1 do not know that I resemble Jean Jacques Rousseau. f I have no ambition to be like so illustrious a madman — but this I know, that I shall live in my own manner, and as much alone as possible. When my rooms are ready I shall Oe glad to see you ; at present it would be improper, and uncomfortable to both parties. You can hardly object to my rendering my mansion habitable, notwithstanding my departure for Persia in March, (or May at farthest,) you will be tenant till my return; and in cam- •<{ any accident, (for I have already arranged my will to be drawn up the moment I am twenty-one,) I have taken care yon shall have the house and manor for life, besides a sufficient income. So you see my improvements are not entirely selfish. As I have a friend here, we will go to the Infirmary Ball on the 12th ; we will drink tea with Mrs. Byron at eight o'clock, and expect to see you at the ball. If that lady will allow us a couple of rooms to dress in, we shall be highly obliged: — if we are at the ball by ten or eleven it will be time enough, and we shall return to Newstead about three or four." ft Adieu. Believe me, "Yours verv truly, "Byron." LETTER XXXIV. TO MRS. BYRON. a Newstead Abbey, Nov. 2d, 1808, * DEAR MOTHER, " If you please, we will forget the things you mention. I have no desire to remember them. When mv rooms are finished, I shall be happy to see you ; as I tell but the truth, you will not suspect me of evasion. I am fur- nishing the bouse more for you than myself, and I shall establish you in it before I sail for India, which I expect to do in March, if nothing particularly obstructive occurs. I am now fitting up the green drawing-room ; the red for ;i beet-room, and the rooms over as sleeping-rooms. Thfy will be soon completed ; — at least, I hope so. u I wish you would inquire of Major "Watson (who is an old Indian) what things will be necessary to provide for my voyage. I have already procured a friend to write to the Arabic professor at Cambridge for some in- formation 1 am anxious to procure. I can easily get 1, tters from government to the ambassadors, consuls, &c. and also to the governors at Calcutta and Madras. I shall place my property and my will in the hands of trusiees till my return, and I mean to appoint you om From Hansor. I have heard nothing — when I do, yc shall have the particulars. * Thill addressed always by I.crU Byron, but without any right to lv ,i n Igrtion. t Slc Mciiiorunduin, page 2£l. " After all, you must own my project is not a bad one. If I do not travel now, I never shall, and all men should one day or other. I have at present no connexions to keep me at home; no wife, or unprovided sisters, bro- thers, &c. I shall take care of you, and when I return I may possibly become a politician. A few years' know- ledge of other countries than our own will not incapaci- tate me for that pari. If we see no nation but our own we do not give mankind a fair chance — it is from expert- ence, not books, we ought to judge of them. There is nothing like inspection, and trusting to our own senses. * Yours very truly, " Byron." LETTER XXXV. TO MR. HODGSON. "A few weeks ago I wrote to * * *, to request ho would receive the son of a citizen of London, well known to me, as a pupil ; the family having been particularly polite during the short time I was with them induced me to this application. Now, mark what follows, — as some- body sublimely saith. On this day arrives an epistle, signed * * *, containing not the smallest reference to tuition, or intuition, but. a .petition for Robert Gregson, of pugilistic notoriety, now in bondage for certain paltry pounds sterling, and liable to tak': up his everlasting abode in Banco Regis. Had the j«ater been from any of my lay acquaintance, or, in short, from any person but the gentleman whose signature it bears, I should have marvelled not. If* * * is serious, I congratulate pugi- lism on the acquisition of such a patron, and shall be most happy to advance any sum necessary for the libe- ration of the captive Gregson. But I certainly hope to be certified from you, or some respectable housekeeper, of the fact, before I write to * * * on the subject. When I say the fart, I mean of the letter being written by * * *, not having any doubt as to the authenticity of the statement. The letter is now before me, and I keep it for your perusal." LETTER XXXVI. TO R. C DALLAS, ESQ. "Reddish's Hotel, Jan. 25, 1809. " MV DEAR SIR, " My only reason for not adopting your lines* is be- cause they are your lines. You will recollect what Lady Wortley Montague said to Pope : 'No touching, for the good will be given to you, and the bad attributed to me.' I am determined it shall be all my own, except such alterations as maybe absolutely requisite; but I am much obliged by the trouble you have taken and your good opinion. " The couplet on Lord C. may be scratched out, and the following inserted : " Roscommon ! Sheffield I with your spirits fled, &c " This will answer the jmrpose of concealment. Now, For some couplets on Mr. Crabbe, which you may place after 'Gilford, Sotheby, M'Neil .•* " There be who say in these enlightened days, &c. "I am sorry to differ with you with regard to the title, but I mean to retain it with this addition : ' The English Bards and Scotch Reviewers ;' and, if we call it a Satire, it will obviate the objection, as the bards alsf were Welsh. * * * * " Yours very sincerely, 8 Byron." ' Mr. Puling bad written some lines, ond requested Lord Byron to to sert them -' and I Hand or rail together. I have now lived "ii the spot, I have fixed my heart upon i;, and no , present or future, shall in, Inc.- mc to barter the last vestige of our inheritance. I have thai pride within i ■ i ■ able me I o support difficulties. I can endure privations; but could [obtain in exchange for Newstead Abbey the first fortune in the country, 1 would reject the proposition. Set your mind at bs that score; Mr. Hanson luilcs like a man ofhttsineSS 00 the subject, I feel like a man i>{ honour, and I will not sell Nowstead. " I shall yet my scat on the return of the affidavits fromCarhais, in ' 'omwali, and will do something in the House soon: I must dash, or it »s all over. My Satire must be kept secret ior a month , after that you may say what you please on tin- subject. Lord Carlisle has used me infamously, and refused to state any particulars of my family to the Chancellor. I have lathed him in my rhymes, and perhaps bis Lordship may regret not being more conciliatory. They tell me it "ill have a sale ; I hope so, for the bookseller has behaved well, as far as publishing well goes. "Believe me, yours truly. c; P. S. You shall have a mortgage on one of the* farms." LETTER XXXIX. TO MR. HARNESS. "8, St. JamesVstreot, March IBth, 1809. ■There was no necessity for your excuses : if you have tune ami inclination to write, 4 for what we re «iTo, the Lord niake us thankful.' — II I du not hear from von, I console myself with the idea thai you are much muM agreeablv employed, L ' 1 sen! down to you by this post a certain Satire lately published, and in return for the three and sixpence expenditure upon it, only beg that if you should guess the author, you will keep his name secret; at least, for the present. London is full of the Duke's business. The Commons have been at it these last three nights and are not yet tome to ;i decision. I do not know il the affair will be brought before our House^ unless in the shape of an impeai hment. If it makes its apnBarance in a debatable form, 1 believe I shall be tempted to sav something on the subject. — I am glad to hear you like i lambridge : firstly, because to know that you are happy is pleasant to one who wishes you all possible sublunary enjoyment ; and, secondly, 1 admire the morality of the sentiment. Alma Mater was to me tnjuMa noverca : and the old Beldam only gave me my M. A. degree because * S«» Luglistt Bards, aod note, p. 436. LETTERS, 1SMI 13 she could not av >id it. — You know what a farce a nobl Cantab, must perform. " I am going abroad, "if possible, in the spring, and before I depart I am collecting the pictures of my most intimate schoolfellows; I have already a few, and shall want yours, or my cabinet will be incomplete. I have employed one of the first miniature-painters of the day to take them, of course at my own expense, as I never allow my acquaintance to incur the least expenditure to gratify a whim of mine. To mention this may seem ind- icate; but when I tell you a friend of ours first re- fused to sit, under the idea that he was to disburse on the occasion, you will see that it is necessary to stale these preliminaries to prevent the recurrence of any siiAlar mistake. I shall see you m time, and will carry you to the limner. It will be a ta\ on your patience for a week, but pray excuse it, as it is possible the resem- blance may be the sole trace I shall be able to preserve of our past friendship and present acquaintance. J ust now it seems foolish enough, but in a few years, when some of us are dead, and others are separated by inevi- table circumstances, it will be a kind of satisfaction to retain in these images of the living the idea of our former selves, and to contemplate in the resemblance of the dead, all that remains of judgment, feeling, and a host of passions. Eut all this would be dull enough for you, and so good night, and to end my chapter, or rather my homily, believe me, dear H. yours most affectionately. "P. S. I do not know how you and Alma Mater agree. I was but an untoward child myself, and I be- lieve the good lady and her brat were equally rejoiced when I was weaned ; and, if I obtained her benediction at parting, it was. ai best, equivocal. 1 ' continned him in my service. If he does not l-chavo well abroad, I will send him back in a transport. I havn a German servant, (who has been with Z\ I r. Wilbraham in Persia before, and was strongly recommended to me by Dr. Butler of Harrow,*) Robert, and Wrlbatn ; they constitute my whole suite. I have letters in plenty— you shall hear from me at the different ports I toueh upon ; but you must not be alarmed if my letters mis- carry. The continent is in a fine state — an insurrec- tion has broken out at Paris, and the Austrians are bi ating Buonaparte — the Tyroles have risen. " There is a picture of me in oil, lo be sent down to Newslead soon. — 1 wish the Miss Pigots had some- thins better to do than carry my miniatures to Notting- ham to copy. Now they have done it, you may ask them to copy the others, which are greater favourites than my own. As to money matters, I am ruined — at least till Rochdale is sold ; and if that does not turn out well, I shall en:er into the Austrian or Russian service — perhaps the Turkish, if I like their manners. The world is all before me, and I leave England without re- gret, and without a wish to revisit any thing it contains, xcept yourself, and your present residence. H Believe me, yours ever sincerely. "P. S. Pray tell Mr. Rushton his son is well, and doing well : so is Murray, in leed better than I ever saw him ; he will be back in about a month. I ought to add the leaving Murray to my few regrets, as his age perhaps will prevent my seeing him again. Robert I take with me ; I like him, because, like myself he seems a friend- less animal. 11 LETTER XL. TO R. C. DALLAS, ESQ.. "April 25th, 1809. DEAR SIR, e lam just arrived at Batt's Hotel. Jermyn-street, St. James's, from Newstead, and shall be very glad to see you when convenient or agreeable. Hobhouse is on his way up to town, full of printing resolution, and proof against criticism. B Believe me, with great sincerity, vours trulv, "Byron." LETTER XLL TO MR. WILLIAM BANKES. e Twelve o'clock, Friday night. - MY DEAR BANKES, "I have just received vour note: believe me, I regret . most sincerely that I was not fortunate enough to see it before, as I need not repeat to you, that your conversa- tion for hall' an hour would have been much more agree- able to me than gambling or drinking, or any other fashionable mode of passing an evening abroad or at home. I really am very sorry that I went out previous to the arrival of your despatch: in future, pray let me hear from you before six, and whatever mv engagements may be, i will always postpone them. Believe me, with that deference which I have always from my child- hood paid to your talents, and with somewhat a better opuiiou of your heart dian I have hitherto entertained, B Yours ever, Stc." LETTER XLEI. TO MRS. BYRON. "Falmouth, June 22d, 1809. 'dear mother, u l am about to sail in a few days; probably before this leaches you. Fletcher begged so hard, that 1 have LETTER XLIII. TO MR. HENRY DRURV. "Falmouth, June 25th, 1809. " MY DEAR DKURY, ""We sail to-morrow in the Lisbon packet, having been detained till now by the lack of wind, and other ne- cessaries. These being at last procured, by this time to- morrow evening we shall be embarked on the vide uorld of paters, cor all the eorld like Robinson Crusoe. The Malta vessel not sailing for some weeks, we have determined to go by way of Lisbon, and, as mv servants term it, to see ' that there Portingale ;' thence to Cadiz and Gibraltar, and so on our old route to Malta and Constantinople, if so be that Captaui Kidd, our gallant wmmander, understands plain sailing and Mercator, and takes us on our voyage all according to the chart. " WilLyou tell Dr. Butler that I have taken the trea- sure of a servant, Friese, the native of Prussia Proper, into my service from ins recommendation. He has been all among the Worshippers of Fire in Persia, and has seen Persepolis and all that. 'Hobhouse has made woundy preparations for a book on his return ; — 100 pens, two gallons of japan ink, an 1 several volumes of best blank, is no bad provision for a discerning public. I have laid down my pen, but have promised lo contribute a chapter on the state of morals, &c. &c. " ' The cock [■ crowing, I nrnsi bi And c^it aa ru^re.'—Ghott of Gaffer Thumb* K Adieu. Believe me, &c. &c." LETTER XLIV. TO MR. HODGSON. ■ Falmouth, June 25th, 1809. "my PEAR HODGSON, "Before this reaches you, Hobhouse, two officer* wives, three children, two waiting-maids, ditto subalterns The Pa^c wid Yioruin of Un " 9 6*1 Night," lo flat firtl Canto Ok Cbtt&HftruM, 14 LKTTERS, 1809. lor the troops, three Portuguese esquires and domestics, in all nineli en i will have sailed in the Lisbon packet, with the nol Kidd, .1 gallant com- mandcr as ei ol ighl Vint/. "We are going to I isbon first, because the .Malta paoki ' ha- sailed, ,1' y see .' — troni Lisbon to « Sibraltar, Malta, Constantinople, and 'all that, 1 as Orator Henley said, when he put the < 'hurch, and 'all that,' in "This town of Fa n ■ 1 will partly conjecture; i- no gri .it w ayslroiii thi sea. [t is defended on the sea- I '■ ,: 1 .' Ui vz and P. -nil'. tremi ly well calculated for annoying every body excepl an enemy. St, Mans is garrisoned by an able-bodied r fourscore, a widower. 1 te has the whol ■<- mand and sole management *»f six most unmanageable pie '- of ordnance, admirably adapted for the destruc- 1 Pendennis, a like tow er of strength on the oppo- ■ oi theChannbL W-c have seen St. Maws, but Pen lennis they will not let us behold, save al a d because Hlobhouse and f are uspected of having al- r> e tj taken St. Maws by a coup do* main. "The town contains many quakers and salt fish — the oysters have a taste of copper, owing to ilic soil of a mining country — ihe women (blessed be the Corpora- tion therefor !) are flogged at the cart's tail when they pick and steal, as happened to one of the fair sen tester- ion. She was pertinacious in her behaviour, and damned ihe mayor. * * "Hodgson! remember me to the Drury, and remem- ber me to — yourself when drunk: — 1 am not worth a sober thought. Look to my Satire at Cuwthorue's, ur-street. * * * 11 1 don't know when I can write again, becausi pends on thai expei ienced navigator, Captain Kidd, and the 'stormy winds that (don't) blow, 1 al this season. I leave England without regret — 1 shall return to it without pleasure. I am like Adam, the first convict, sentenced to transportation, hut 1 have no Eve, and have ealen no apple but what was .sour as a crab ; — and thus ends my first chapter. Adieu. Yours, &.c." LETTER XLV. TO Mil. HOIMISO.V. "Lisbon, July 16th, 1809. * Tims far have we pursued our route, and seen all b irts of marvellous sights, palaces, convents, &c, — which, being to be heard in my friend Hobhouse'a forth- coming Book of Travels, I shall nol anticipate bj smug- ,1 . ■, account whatsoever to you in a private and andi Lin manner [ must just observe that the village of Cintra* in Estremadura is the most beautiful, pi rhaps, in the world. * * * "I am very happy here, because I loves oranges, and talk bad Latin a, who understand it, as it is like their own, — and 1 goes into society, (with my pockel ) and I swims in the Tagus all across at once, and I rides on an ass or a mule, and sweai t P01 tuguese, and have got a diarrhoea and bites from the musquitoes. But what of thai I Comfort must not be expected by folks thai go a pleasuring. * * * M When the Portugue •■ are pertinacious, I say, ( Car- rachoP — the great oath of the grandees, thai \' ry well supplies the place of 'Damme,' — and, when dissatisfied wnii my neighbour, I pronounce him ' Ainbra di merdo.' With these two phrases, and a third. c Avra Bouro, 1 which Bignifieth 'Get an ass,' I am universally under- stood to he a person of degree and a master of Ian How merrily we lives that travellers be ! — if* we bad food and raiment. But, in sober sadness, any tiling is better • SoeCLiitU' lid >td, Canto I . ttanza 13tb,&c. than England, and I am infinitely amused with my pU b far aa it hs "To-morrow we start to ride post near 400 miles as far as Gibraltar, when for M< tita ai zanbum. A letter to Malta "-ill find me, or to be 1"t- warded, if I am absent. Pray embrace the Drury and Dwyer and all the Ephosians you encounter. I am writing with Butler's doi atii pen I, which makes roj bad hand worse. Excu e |1 ili ' v. + * * "Hodg on! ■ ; me the news, and the deaths, and defeats, and capital crimes, and the misfortunes of one's friends; and lei us hear of literary matters, and the con- troversies and the criticisms. All this will : 'Suave mari magno, 1 ^i-. Talking of that, I have been seasick, and sick of the sea. Adieu. " Yours faithfully, &c." LETTER XL VI. TO MR. HODGSON. "Gibraltar, August 6, 1809. " I have just arrived at this place after a j through Portugal, and a part of Spain, of nearly 500 miles. We left Lisbon and travelled on horsebi Seville and Cadiz, and thence in the Hyperion fri Gibraltar. The horses are excellent — we rode 51 miles a day. Eggs and wine and hard beds are all the accommodation we found, and, in such torrid weather, quite enough. My health is better than in England. * * * " Seville is a fine town, and the Sierra Morena, part of which we crossed, a very sufficient mountain, — but damn description, il is always disgusting. Cadiz, sweet Cadiz! — it is the Brsl spol in the creation. * * * The beamy of it-- streets and mansions is only excelled by the loveliness of its inhabitants. For, with all na- tional prejudice, I must confess the women of Cadi/ are as far superior to the English women in beauty as the Spaniards are inferior to the English in every quality that dignifies the name of man. * * * Just as I began to know the principal persons of the city, I was obliged to sad. " You will not expect a long letter after my ridi far 'on hollow pampered jades of Asia. 1 Tall i Asia puts me in mind of Africa, which is within five miles of m\ [nr rut n-idmre. 1 am yoing over before I go on to Constantinople. a* * * Cadiz is a complete Cythera. Many of the grandees who have Icfl Madrid during the n reside there, an 1 1 believe it is the prettiest and cleaneaf town m Europe. London is filthy in the comparison* * * * The Spanish w en an- all alike, their edu- cation the same. The wife of a duke is, in information^ as ihe wife of a peasant,— the wile of a peasant, in man- ner, equal to a dutchess. Certainly, they are fascinat- ing ; but their minds have only one idea, and the bu of their lives is intrigue. * * * "I have seen Sir John Carr at Seville and Cadiz, and like Swift's barber, have been down on my 1 nees to beg he would nol pul me into black and white. Praj re- member me to the Drurys and the Davies, and all ol that stamp who are yet extant. Si i I me b laser and news to Alalia. My next epistle shall he from Mount Caucasus or Mount Si w held. The distance to Seville is nearly four hun- dred miles, and to Cadiz almost ninety miles further to- wards the coast. I bad orders from the government, and everv possible accommodation on the road, as an Eng- lish nobleman, in an English uniform, is a very respecta- ble personage in Spain at present. The horses are re- markably good, and the roads (I assure you upon mv honour, for you will hardly believe it) very far su| erior to the best British roads, without the smallest toll or turnpike. You will suppose this when I rode post to Seville in four days, through this parching country, in the midst of summer, without fatigue or annoyance Seville is a beautiful town ; though the streets are nar- v are clean.J We lodged in the house of two i unmarried ladies, who possess six houses in Seville, and iiave me a curious specimen of Spanish ers.§ They are women of character, and the eldest a tine woman, the youngest pretty, but not so good a as L'ouna Josepha. The freedom of manner which is general here, astonished me not a little ; and in the course of further observation I find 'hat reserve is rj i the characteristic of the Spanish belles, who are, in ge- neral, very handsome, with large black eves, and very fine I mis. The eldest honoured your unworthy son with very paf icular attention, embracing him with greal ■.less at parting, (1 was there but three days,) after i utting off a lock of his hair, and presenting him with om "t'her own, about three feel in length, which I send, and beg you will retain till my return. Her last words \di ■--, hi hermoso! me gusto mucho.' — 'Adieu, you pretty fellow, you please me much.' She oflfi red a share of her apartment, which my i iriue induced me to decline; she laughed, and said I had some English 'amante,' (lover,) and added that she was going to be married to an officer in the Spanish army. U I left Seville, and rode on to Cadi/, through a beau- tiful country. At Xercs, where the sherry we drank is • S>e ChiM? TUroW,Cu>loI.9tanM 1*. f Ibid %{ J Ibid. 85, i.c. 5 DouJuiii, Cftuiol. iuum B. made, I niet a great merchant, a Mr. Gordon of Scot- land, who was extremely polite, and favoured me wi li the inspection of his vaults and cellars, — so that 1 quaffed at the fountain head. "Cadiz,* sweet Cadiz, is the most delightful town 1 ever beheld, very different from our English cities \j\ every respect, except cleanliness, (and n is as clean as Lund. >n,) but still beautiful and full of the finest women in Spain, the Cadi/ belles being the Lancashire witches of their land. Jusl as I was introduced, and began to like the grandee', I was forced to leave it for this cursed place; but before I return u> England I will visit it again. The night before I left it, I sat in the box at tht opera with Admiral Coi lova's family; he is the com mander whom Lord St. Vincent defeated in 17!)7, ana has an aged wife and a fine daughter, Senorita < Jordova , the girl is very prettyin the Spanish style, in my opin m by no means inferior to the English in charms, and cev tainly superior in fascination. Long black hair, dark languishing eyes, clear olive complexions, and forms mi e graceful in motion than can he conceived by an En man used to the drowsy, listless air of his qountrywomt.fi, added to the most becoming dress, and, at the same time, the most decent in the world, render a Spanish beamy irresistible. I beg leave to observe that intrigue here is the business of life ; when a woman marries she throws off" all restraint, but I believe their conduct is chaste enough before. If you make a proposal, which in Eng- land would bring a box on the ear from the meekest of virgins, to a Spanish girl, she thanks you for the honour you intend her, and replies, ' Wait till I am married, and I shall be too happy.' This is literally and strictly true Miss C. and her little brother understood a little French, and, after regretting my ignorance of the Spanish, she proposed to become my preceptress in that language. I could only reply by a low bow, and express my rej n t that I quitted Cadiz too soon to permit me to make the progress which would doubtless attend my studies un ler so charming a directress. I was standing at the back of the box, which resembles our opera boxes, (the thi tre is large, and finely decorated, the music admirable,) in the manner in which Eng'ishmen generallyadi.pt, for fear of incommoding the ladies in Iront, when this fair Spaniard dispossessed an old woman (an aunt or a duenna) u\' her chair, and commanded me to be seated next herself) at a toicrable distance from her mamma. At the close of the performance I withdrew, and was lounging with a parly of men in the passagi , when, - n passant, the lady turned round and called me, an-: I had the honour of attending her to the admiral's mansion. I ' have an invitation on my return to Cadiz, which I shall accept, if I repass through the country on mv return from Asia. "I have met Sir John Carr, knh.'ht errant, at Seville and Cadiz, lie is a pleasant man. I like the Spaniards much. You have heard of the battle near Madrid, and in England they call it a victory — a pretty victor) ! 200 officers, and 6C00 men killed, al! 1 i and (he French in as greal force as ever. I should have joined the army, but we have no time to lose before we get up the Mediterranean and Archipelago. I am u"iu_' over to Africa to-morrow; it is only -i\ miles fro tress. My next Btage is < lagliari in Sardinia, where I -hall he presented to hi i maji sty. I have ■' mo I bu- perb uniform as a court dress, indispensable in tra- velling. Aug~itst \3th. — I have not been to Africa ; the wind is contrary; but I dined y« Ugesiras, with Lady Westmoreland, where I met General Castanets, the ce- lebrated Spanish leader in the late and present war: to day I dine with Imu ; he has offered me letteis to Te- tuan in Barbary, for the principal Moors ; and I am to 1 S«e Cliilde Harold, Cmito I. naiiza 65, ic 16 LETTERS, 1800. have the house for a few days of one of flu- great men, which was intended for Lady W. whose health will nol permit her to cross the Straits. Augtat ]5th. — I could not dine with Castanoa yester- day, bul this afternoon I had that honour; he is pleasant, and for aught I know to the contrary, clever. 1 cannot go to Baibary. The Malta packet sails to-morrow, and myself in it. Admiral Purvis, with whom I dined al Cadiz, gave me apa i inafiigate to Gibraltar, bul we have no ship of war destined for Malta at present. The packets sail fast, and have good accommodations. You shall hear from me on our route. Joe Murray de- livers this. I have sent him and the boy Back ; pray sho-.v the lad every kindness, as he is my great favourite. I hope this will find you well. " Believe me, ever yours sincerely, "Byron." a P. S. So Lord G. is married to a rustic ! well dour ' If I wed, I will brine you home a Sultana, with half a dozen cilies for a dowrv, and reconcile you to an Otto- man daughter-in-law with a bushel of pearls, not larger than ostrich eggs or smaller than walnuts." LETTER XLVIII. TO MR. RUSH TON. "Gibraltar, August 15th, 1809. " MR. RUSH TON, K I have sent Robert home with Mr. Murray, because the country which I am about to travel through is in a state which renders it unsafe, particularly fi>r one so young. I allow you to deduct live-nnd-twentv pounds a year for his education for three years, provided I do not return before that time, and I desire he may be con- sidered as in my serviee. I.»t every care be taken of him, and let him be sent to school. In case of my death 1 have provided enough in my will to render him inde- pendent. He has behaved extremely well, and has tra- velled a great deal for the time of his absence. Deduct the expense of his education from your rent. "BvRON." LETTER XLIX. TO THE HONOURABLE MRS. BYRON. "Malta, Sept. 15th, 1809 "PEAR MOTHER, "Though I have a very short time to spar* 1 , to sail immediately for Greece, I cannot avoid taking an opportunity of telling you that I am well. I have been in Malta a short time, and have found the inhabitants hospitable and pleasant This letter is committed to the charge of a very extraordinary woman, whom you have doubtless heard ofj Mrs. Spencer Smith,* of whose escape the Marquis de Salvo published e narrative n few years ago. She has since been shipwrecked, and her life has been from its commencement bo fertile in re- markable incidents, that in a romance they would appear improbable. She was born al Constantinople] where her father, Baron Herbert, was Austrian ambassador; married unhappily] yet has never been impeached in point of character; excited the vengeance of Buonapai te by a part in some conspiracy ; several times risked her life; and is not vet twenty-five. Sin- is here in bei way 1 1 * England, to join her hu-diand, being obliged to have Trieste, where she was paying a visit to her mother, by the approach of the French, and embarks soon in a ship of war. Since my arrival here, I have • The '' Flnrrnw " of scvprnt of hie tmnlltr poems ; mid aJludtd Lo lit CbiJJl lUroM, Canto tl. tKnuM 30. had scarcely any other companion. I have found her very pretty, very ■ ed, an I sxln mely eccentric. Buonaparte .s even now so incensed against her, that her life would lie in some danger if she were taken prisoner a second time. You have seen Murray and Robert by this time, and received my letter — little has happened 'ince that dale. 1 have touched al I Is liari, In Sardinia, and at tiirgenti, in Sicily, and embark to-morrow for Patra% from whence I proceed to Yanina, where Ah Pacha i olds Ins Court, so I shall soon be among the Mnsselmam. "Adieu. Believe me with sincerity, " Yours ever. "Byron" LETTER L. TO MRS. BYRON. u Prevesa, Nov. 12, 1609. ■my dear MOTHER, "I have now been some time in Turkey: this place is on the coast, bul I have traversed the interior of iho province of Albania on a visit to the Pacha. I left Malta in the Spider, a brig "f war, on the 21st of Sep- tember, and arrived^ in eight days al Prevesa. I thence have been about 150 miles, as far as Tepalen, his high* ness's country palace, where I stayed three days.* The name of the Pacha is Ali^ and lie is considered a man of the first abilities : he governs the whole of Albania, (the ancient Ellyricum,) Epirue,and part of Macedonia. His son, Vely Pacha, to whom he has given me letters) governs the Morea, and has great influence in Egypt ; in short, he is one of the mo it powerful nun in the Otto- man empire. When I reached Yanina, the capital, after a journey of three days over the mountains, through a country of the most picturesque beauty, I found that Alt Pacha was with Ins army in Illyricura, besieging Ibrahim Paeha in the castle of Be rat. He had heard that an Englishman of rank was in his dominion had left orders in Yanina with the commandant to pro- vide a house, and supply me with every kind of neces- sary gratia ; and, though I have been allowed to make presents to the slaves, &c., I have not been permitted to pay for a single article of household consumption. "I rode out on the vizier's horses, and saw the palaces of himself and grandsons: they are splendid, hut too much ornamented with silk and gold. I then n the mountains through Zitza, a village with a Greek in . i v, (where I slept on my return,) in the most beautiful situation (always excepting ('intra, in Portugal) [ever beheld. In nine days I reached Tepalen. Our journey was much prolonged by the torrents that had fallen from the mountains, and intersected the roads. I shall never forget the singular scene on entering Tepa- len at five in tin afternoon, as the sun was going down. It brought lo rnv mind (with some change "f ./;>.«, how- ever) Scott's description of Brnnksome Castle in his Lay, and the feudal system. The Albanians, in their dresse ,(the most magnificent in the world, 'consisting of a long white hit, gold-worked cloak, crimson velvt I gold- lac, -d jacket and ^\ atsleoat, silver-mounted pistols and with their high caps, the Turks in their vast pelisses and turbans, the soldiers and black slaves with the horses, the former in groupes in an im- mense large open gallery in from" of the palace, the latter placed in a kind of cloister below it, two hundred steeds ready caparisoned to move in a moment, couriers en- tering or passing cut with despatches, the kettle-drums beating, boys calling the hour from the minaret of the mosque, altogether, with the singular appearance of the building itself; formed a new and delightful spectacle to a • Sec OilliU lUruU), Caolo II.»Uuu(m. LETTERS, 1809- 17 stranger. I was conducted to a very handsome- apart- ment, and my health inquired after by the vizier's secre- tary, ' a -la-mode Turque V "The next day I was introduced to Ali Pacha. I was dressed in a full suit of staff uniform, with a very magnificent sabre, &c. The vizier received me in a targe room paved with marble ; a fountain* was playing in the centre ; the apartment was surrounded by scarlet ottomans. He received me standing, a wonderful com- pliment from a Mussulman, and made me sit down on his right hand. I have a Greek interpreter for general use, but a physician of All's, named Femlario, who un- derstands Latin, acted for me on this occasion. His first question was, why; at so early an age, 1 left my country? — (the Turks have no idea of travelling for amusement.) He then said, the English minister, Cap- tain Leake, had told him I was of a great family, and desired his respects to my mother ; which I now, in the name of Ali Pacha, present to yon. He said he was certain I was a man of birth, because I had small ears, curling hair, and little white handi,f and expressed him- self pleased with my appearance and garb. He told me to consider him as a father while I was in Turkey, and said he looked on me as his son. Indeed, he treated me like a child, sending me almonds and sugared sherbet, fruit and sweetmeats, twenty times a day. He begged me to visit him often, and at night, when he was at lei- sure. I then, after coffee and pipes, retired for the first time. I saw him thrice afterward. It is singular that the Turks, who have no hereditary dignities, and few great families, except the Sultans, pay so much respect to birth ; for I found my pedigree more regarded than my title. "His highness is sixty years old, very fat, and not tall, but with a fine face, light blue eyes, and a white beard ; his manner is very kind, and at the same time he pos- sesses that dignity which I find universal among the Turks. — He has the appearance of any thing but his real character; for he is a remorseless tyrant, guilty of the most horrible cruelties, very brave, and so good a general that they call him the Mahometan Buonaparte. Napoleon has twice offered to make him king of Epirus, But he prefers the English interest, and abhors the French, as he himself told me. He is of so much con- sequence, that he is much courted by both ; the Alba- nians being the most warlike subjects of the Sultan, though Ah is only nominally dependent on the Porte. He has been a mighty warrior; but is as barbarous as *»c is successful, roasting rebels, &c. Sec. Buonaparte sent him a snuffbox, with his picture ; he said the snuff- »ox was very well but the picture he could excuse, as he neither liked it nor the original. His ideas of judging of a man's birth from cars, hands, &c. were curious enough. To me, he was, indeed, a father, giving me letters, guards, and every possible accommodation. Our next conversations were of war and travelling, politics and Em-land. He called my Albanian soldier, who attends me, and told him to protect me at all hazard. His name is Viscillie, and like all the Albanians, he is bravo, rigidly honest, and faithful; but they are cruel, though not treacherous; and have several' vices, but no mean- nesses. They are, perhaps, the most beautiful race, in point of countenance, in the world ; their women are sometimes handsome also, but they are treated like slaves, beaten, and, in short, complete beasts of burden ; they plough, dig, and sow. I found them carrying wood, and actually repairing the highways. The men are all soldiers, and war and the chace their sole occupation. The women are the labourers, which, after all, is no great hardship in so delightful a climate. Yesterday, the 11th of November, I bathed in the sea ; to-day it is so hot that I am writing in a shady room of the English • Ste Don Juan , Canlo V. ■laura S3, and aoU. t Ibid. Hiinw IDS uii'l noie. consul's, with three doors wide open, no fire, or even jSre- place in the house , except for culinary purposes. " To-day I saw die remains of the town of Actiimi,* near which Antony lost the world, in a small bay, where two frigates could hardly manoeuvre : a broken wall is the sole remnant. On another part of the gulf stands the ruins of Nicopo'is, built by Augustus in honour ol his victory. Last night I was at a Greek marriage : but this and a thousand things more I have neither Lime nor space to describe. 1 1 am going to-morrow, with a guard of fifty men, to Pafras in the Morea, and thence to Athens, where I hall winter. Two days ago I was nearly lost in a Turkish ship of war, owing to the ignorance of the cap- tain and crew, though the storm was not violent. Fletcher yelled after his will-, the Greeks called on all the saints, the Mussulmans on Alia ; the captain burst into tears and ran below deck, telling us to call on God ; the sails were split, the mainyard shivered, the wind blowing fresh, die night setting in, and all our chance was to make Corfu, which is in possession of the French, or (as Fletcher pathetically termed it) ' a watery grave.' I did what I could to console Fletcher, but finding him incor- rigible, wrapped myself up in my Albanian capote, (an imnu ose cloak,) and lay down on deck to wait the worst. I have learned to philosophize in my travels, and if I had not, complaint was useless. Luckily the wind abated, and only drove us on the coast of Suli, on the main [and, where we landed, and proceeded, by the help of the na- tives, to Prevesa again ; but I shall not trust Turkish sailors in future, though the Pacha had ordered one of his own galliots to take me to Patras. I am therefore going as far as Missolonghi by land, and there have only to cross a small gulf to get to Patras. "Fletcher's next epistle will be full of marvels: we were one night lost fur nine hours in the mountains in a h under- storm, and since nearly wrecked. In both cases, Fletcher was sorely bewildered, from apprehen- sions of famine and banditti in the first, and drowning in the second instance. Kis eyes were a little hurt by the htning, or crying, (I don't know which,) but arc now recovered. When you write, address to me at Mr* Strane's, English consul, Patras, Morea. " I could tell you I know not how many incidents that I think would amuse you, but thev vowd on my nind as much as they would swell my pa, fr, and I can neither arrange them in the one, nor put (hem down on the other, except in the greatest confusion. I like thu Albanians much ; they are not all Turks; some tribes are Christians. But their religion mikes little dif- ference in their manner or conduct. They are esteemed the best troops in the Turkish service. I lived on my oute two days at once, and three days again, in a bar- rack at Salora, and never found soldier- so tolerable, though I have been in the garrisons of Gibraltar and Malta, and seen Spanish, French, Sicilian, and British troops in abundance. I have had nothing stolen, anil was always welcome to their provision and milk. Not a week ago an Albanian chief, (every village has its chief] h ho is called Primate,) after helping us out of the Turkish galley in her distress, feeding us, and lodging my suite, consisting of Fletcher, a Greek, two Athenians a Greek priest, and my companion, Mr.Hobhouse, re fused any compensation but a written paper stating that I was well received ; and when I pressed him to accept a few sequins, ' No,' he replied ; ' I wish you to love mo not to pay me.' These are his words. " It is astonishing how far money goes in this country While I was in the capital, 1 had nothing to pay, by tho vizier's order; but since, though I have generally ,>ad sixteen horses, and generally six or seven men, the ex- pense has not been half as much as staying only three * £e« CtulJu ilnrold, C&iKu 11. slatiia 15. 18 LETTERS, 1810. weeks in Malta, though Sir \ I : i governor, gave me a house for nothing, and I had onlj i •■< < > ;he is uning up on purpose to receive. I have written to you short Letters from Athens, Smyrna, and a long one from Al- bania. I have not yet mustered courage for a second large epistle, and you must not be angry, since I take all opportunities of apprizing you of my safely: but even that is an effort, writing is so irksome. I have been tra- versing Greece, and Epirus, lllyria, &c. &c. and you ! . my date, have got into Asia. I have made bul one excursion lately, to the ruins ofEphesus. Malta is the rendezvous of my tetters, so address to thai Mr. Hanson has not written, though I wished to hear of the Norfolk sale, the Lancashire lawsuit, &c. &<•. I am anxiously expecting fresh remittances. I I you will like Nottinghamshire, at least, my share of it. Pray accept my good « ishes in Leu of a long letter, and believe me, "Yours sincerely and affectionately, "Byroh." LETTER L1II. TO THE HON. MRS. BVRO.T. "Salsette Frigate, offthe Dardanelles, April 17, 1810. "liKMl ,M.\I>AM, "I write at anchor, (in our way to Constantinople,) off the Troad, which 1 travi rsi d two days ago. All the re- mains of Troy an- the tombs of her destroyers, among which 1 see that of Anlilochus from my cabin window. ike the barrov Danes in your island. There are several monuments, about twelve miles di iant, of the Alexandrian Troas, which I also examined ; but by no means to be compared with the remnants of Athens and Ephesus. This will be sent in a slap of war bound with despatch* .Malta. In a few days we shall be at Constantinople, barring accidents. 1 have also written from Smyrna, and shall, from time to I \ b m mit short accounts of my movements, bul I feci totally unequal to long letters. " Believe me, * Yours very sincerely, u B\RO.f » " P. S. No accounts from Hanson ! Do not complain of short letters, 1 write to nobody but yourself and -Mr. Hanson. LETTERS, 1810. 19 LETTER LIV. TO THE HON. MHS. JIVKON. « Constantinople, May lSlh, 1810. ■dear madam, * I arrived here in an English frigate from Smyrna, a few davs ago, without any events worth mentioning ex- cept landing to view the plains of Troy, and afterwards, when we were at anchor in the Dardanelles, swimming from Sestos to Abydos, in imitation of Monsieur Lean- der, whose story von no doubt know too well for me to add any thing on the subject, except that I crossed the i good a motive for the undertaking. As I am just going to visit the ( laptain Pacha, you will excuse the brevity of my letter. When Mr. Adair takes leave, 1 am to see the Sultan and the mosques, &c. " Eclieve me, yours ever, u Br ron." LETTER LV. TO MR. HENRY DRURY. «SalseUe Frigate, May 3d, 1810. "MV DEAR DRt'RV, "When I left England, nearly a year ago, you re- quested me to write to you — 1 will do so. I have crossed Portugal, traversed the south of Spain, visited Sardinia, Sicily, Malta, and thence passed into Turkey, where I am still wandering. I first landed in Albania, the ancient Epirus, where we penetrated as far as Mount Tomarit — excellently treated by the chief AH Pacha; and, after journeying through lllyria, Chaonia, &c. crossed the gulf of Actium, with a guard of fifty Albani- ans, and passed the Achelous in our route through Acar- nania and JEtolia. We stopped a short time in the Morea, crossed the gulf of Lepanlo, and landed at the foot of Parnassus ; saw all that Delphi retains, and so on to Thebes and Athens, at which last we remained ten weeks. "His majesty's ship Pvlades brought us to Smyrna ; but not befure we had topographized Attica, including, of course, Maratlmn and the Simian promontory. From Smvrna t<> the Troad (which we visited when at anchor, for a f irtnight, otf the tomb of Antilochus) was our next staL'e; and now we are in the Dardanelles, waiting for a wind to proceed to Constantinople. u Tins morning 1 swam from Sestos to Abydos.* The n i- ti..i above a mile, but the current it hazardous ; — so much so that I doubt whether Lcander's conjugal affection must not have been a little chilled in his passage to Paradise. 1 attempted it a week ago, and failed, — owing to the north wind, and the -wonderful rapidity of the tide, — though I have been from mv childhood a strong swimmer. But, this morn- big being calmer, I succeeded, an I crossed the 'broad pont' in an hour and ten minutes. " Well, my dear sir, I have left my home, and seen part of Africa and Asia, and a tolerable portion of Eu- rope. 1 have been with generals and admirals, princes and p;i' ..-rnablcs, — but I have not time or paper to expatiate. I \\i?h to let you know- that 1 live with a friendly remembrance of you, and a hope to meet you again : and, if I do this as shortly as possible, attribute it to any thing but forge tfulness. "Greece, ancient and modern, you know too well to require description. Albania, indeed, I have seen more of than any Englishman, (except a Mr. Leake,) for it is a country rarely \ isited, from the savage character of the natives, though abounding in more natural beauties than the classical regions of Greece, — which, however, 1 See Letler 477, ie. are still eminently beautiful, particularly Delphi and Cape Colonna in Attica. Vet these are nothing to parts of lllyria and Epirus, where places without a name, and rivers not laid down in maps, may, one day, when more known, be justly esteemed superior subjects, for the pencil and the pen, to the dry ditch of the Ilissus and the bogs of Boeotia. 'The Troad ts a fine field for conjecture and snipe- shooting, and a good sportsman and an ingenious scholar may exercise their feet and faculties to great advantage upon the spot; — or, if they prefer riding, lose their way (as I did) in a cursed quagmire of the Scamander, who wriggles about as if the Dardan virgins still offered their wonted tribute. The only vestige of Troy, or her de- stroyers, are the barrows supposed to contain the car- casses of Achilles, Antilochus, Ajax, &c. — but Mount [da is still in high feather, though the shepherds are uow-a-days not much like Ganymede. But why should I say more of these things? are they not written in the Boke oiGcll? and has not H. got a journal? I keep none, as I have renounced scribbling. " I see not much difference between ourselves and the Turks, save that we have * *, and they have none — that they have long dresses, and we short, and that we talk much, and they little. ***** They are sensible people. AH Pacha told me he was sure I was a man of ranlc, because I had small ears and hands and curling hair. By-the-by, I speak the Romaic, or modern Greek, tolerably. It does not differ from the ancient dialects so much as you would conceive ; but the pronunciation is diametrically opposite. Of verse, ex- cept in rhyme, they have no idea. " I like the Greeks, who are plausible rascals, — with all the Turkish vices, without their courage. However, some are brave, and all are beautiful, very much re- sembling the busts of Alcibiades: — the women not quite so handsome. I can swear in Turkish ; but, except one horrible oath, and 'pimp,' and 'bread,' and 'water,' 1 have got no great vocabulary in that language. They are extremely polite to strangers of any rank, properly protected; and as 1 have two servants and two soldiers, we get on with great eclat. We have been occasionally in danger of thieves, and once of shipwreck, — but always escaped. "At Malta I fell in love with a married woman * and challenged an aid-de-camp of General * * (a rude fellow, who grinned at something, — I never rightly knew what) — but he explained and apologized, and the lady embarked for Cadiz, and so I escaped murder and crhn. con. Of Spain I sent some account to our Hodgson, but have subsequently written to no one, save notes to relations and lawyers, to keep them out of my premises. I mean to give up all connexion, on my return, with many of my best friends — as 1 supposed them — and to snarl all my life. But I hope to have one good-hu- moured laugh with you, and to embrace Dwyer, and pledge Hodgson, before 1 commence cynicism. B Tefl Doctor Butler I am now writing with the gold pen he gave me before I left England, which is the rea- son my scrawl is more unintelligible than usual. 1 have been at Athens and seen plenty of these reeds for scrib- bling, some of which he refused to bestow upon me, be- cause topographic Gell had brought them from Attica But I will not describe, — no — you most be satisfied with simple detail till my return ; and then we will unfold the floodgates of colloquy. I am in a 36 gun frigate, going up to fetch Bob Adair from Constantinople, who will have the honour to carry this letter. "And so H.'s boke is out,| with some sentimental sing-song of my own to fill up, — and how does it take, eh ? and where the devil is the second edition of my • See Letter 49. t Hothouse* Misc«Uanie«, in which l^crftl of Lwtl Bvrvn'l im«lJ« pieces were ungiiially published. 20 LETTERS, 1810. with additions? and my name on the title-page ? .'ml more lines Lagged to the end, with a new exordium and whai not, hoi ft-om my anvi] bi i : e I cleat? d (he Channel? The Mediterranean and the Atlantic roll between me d '■ '"■ of 1 ' |r J>y- perborea I by the roar of the Hellesp "Remember me to Claridge, if nol Iran lated to col- ,i present toH< anci s of my high con- sideration, Now, you will ask, what shall I do next '. and I answer, I do not know. I may return in a few months, but I have interits and projects after visiting . — Hobhouse, however, will probably be ba ■'■ in September. "On the 3d of July wc have lefl Albion one year — 'oblitus mcoruro oblivisccn I was sick of my own country, and not mu< h prepossessed in favour of any other; buUl r drag on 1 ' my chain 1 without ' eoing it at each remove. 1 I am like the .Tolly Miller, caring nd not cared for. AU countries are much the same in my eyes. I smoke, and stare ai mountains, and twirl my mustactrios vi ry indepen lently. ., i the mosquitoes that wrack the morbid frame of H. have, luckily for me, little effect on mine, because I livem »re temperately. "I omitted Ephesus in my catalogue, which I visited during my sojourn at Smyrna; bul the Temple has al- most perished, and St. Paul need not trouble himself to ■ .,-■■ the present brood of Ephesians, who have convi rted a large church built i ntirely of marble into a ie, and I don't Know tlrat the edifice looks the i >r tt. "Mypaper is full, and if you address to me at Malta, the letter will be for- ward* ! wherever I may be. Hobhouse greets you ; he I en- for his poi try, — ai lea it, some tidings of it. I al to tell you that 1 am dying for love of three Greek girls at Athens, slers. I lived in the same 1 are the names of these divinities, — all of them und i 15. " Sfour rarctvOTnros dtfXof, ' liVRON." LETTER LVI. to mr. noncsort. ■ ! ■ in the Dardani lies, ofl . IslO. M ,™ on my way to Con tantinople, after n tour through Greece, Epiras,&c. and pari ol Asia Minor, some particulars of which I have just communicated to our friend an I bo tH.l >rury. With these, then, I shall not trouble you; but, as you will perhaps be pleasi ! to tat 1 am well, &c, I take the opportunity of our idor's return to forward the few lines 1 have time itch. We hai e un '■■■ [conveniences, . . urred partial p no ev< nts h i itthy i f com- munication, unit ■ ) '"i w ill di i m it one that two days ago] ■■■■'■" from A - ; . This, — with o Tew alarms from rol inger ofshipwn ck in a Turkish galliot But montlis ago, s visil to a Pacha, a pa - moji for a married woman ai M ilta, a challenge to an i ficor, an attai hment to £lii ee < Ireek girls at Athens, with a groat deal of buffoonery and fine prospects,— form all that bas distinguished raj progr a since my di parture from Spain. K Hobhou erhymi i and journalizes; I stare and do no- thing — unless smoking can I m< at. The Turks take too much care of their women mil them to be scrutinized; but I have lived a good deal with the Greeks, whose modern dialect I can con- verse in enough tor my purposes. With the Turks I laintanees— female society is out of the question. I have been very well treated by '■.■as and Governors, and have no complaint to mal o i ! any kind. HoUiou.m* will one day inform yon of all our adventures, — were I to attempt the recital, neither my paper nor your patience would hold out lie operation. " Nobody, save yourself, has written to mc since I left England ; but indeed I did not request it. I except my relations, who write quite as often as I wish. Of Hob- house's volume I know nothing, except that it is out ; and of my second edition I do not even know that, and certainly do not, at this distance, interest myself in the matter. * * * * I hope you and Bland roll down the Stream of sale with rapidity. ' 'i my return I cannot positively speak, hut think it Hobhouse will precede me in that respect. Wc have been very nearly one year abroad. I should wish to gaze away another, at least, in these ever-green ; but I fear business., law business, the worst of employments, will recall me previous to that period, if n< i ( ery quickly. If so, you shall have due notice. K I hope you wi.l lind me an altered personage, — I do not mean in body, but in manner, for I begin to find out that nothing but virtue will do in this d — d world, I am tolerably skit of vice, which 1 have tried in its agreeable varieties, and mean, on my return, to cut all tny dissolute acquaintance, leave off wine and carnal companv, and betake myself to politics and decorum. I am very serious and cynical, and a good deal disposed to moralize; but, I'n innately for you, the coming homily is cut off by default of pen and defection of paper. "Good morrow! If you write, address to mc at Malta, whence your letters will be forwarded. You need not remember me to any body, but believe me, u Yours with all faith, "Byhoj*." LETTER LVII. TO THE HONOURABLE MRS. BYRON. "Constantinople, May 24th, 1810. " DEAR MOTHER, H 1 wrote to you very shortly the other day on my ar- rival here, and as another opportunity avails, take up my pen again, that the frequency of my letters may atone for their brevity. Pray did you ever receive a picture of me in oil by Sanders, in Vigo-lane, London? (a noted limner;) if not, write for it immediately; it was paid fort exccpl the frame, (if frame there be,) before] left Eng- land. 1 believe I mentioned to you in my last, that my only notable exploit, lately, has been swimming from Abydos on the third of this month, in humble imitation of fjatukr^vC amorous memory, though I had no Hero to receive me on the other shore of the Helles- pont. Of Constantinople you have, of course, read fifty descriptions by sundry travellers, which are in gi so correct, that I have nothing to add on the subject. " When our ambassador takes his leave, I shall ac» c mpany him to see the sultan, and afterward probably return to Greece. I have heard nothing of Mr. Hanson, hut one remittance, without any letter from that gentle- man. If you have occasion for any pecuniary supply, [mi use my funds as far as they go without reserve; and, lest this should not be enough, in my next to Mr. Hanson I will direct him to advance any sum you may want, leaving it to your discretion how much, in the pre- senl ctate of my affairs, you may think proper to require. I have already seen the most interesting parts of Turkey in Europe and Asia Minor, but shall not proceed farther till 1 hear from England: in the mean time I shall ex- pect occasional supplies, according to circumstances , and shall pass my summer among my friends, ths Greeks of the More*. LETTERS, 1810. 21 '"You will direct to Malia, where my letters are for- warded, and believe me to be, '• With great sincerity, 11 \ ours ever. a P. S. Fletcher is well ; pray take care of my boy Robert, and die old man Murray. It is fortunate they returned; neither the youth of the one, nor the age of the Other, would have suited the changes of climate and fa- tigue of travelling." LETTER LVIII. TO MR. HESRT DRURY. "Constantinople, June 1 7th, 1SI0. * Though I wrote to you so recently, I break in upon you again to congratulate you on a child being born, as a letter from Hodgson apprizes me of that event, in which I rejoice. a I am just come from an expedition through the Bos- phorus to the Biack Sea and the Cyanean Symplegades, up which last I scrambled at as great a risk as ever the Argonauts escaped in their hoy. You remember the beginning of the nurses dole in the Medea, of which I beg you to take the following translation, done on the summit. ** Oh how I wish [hat au embargo Had kept in port the good ship Argo ' Who, still uolauoch'd from Grecian docks, Had nerer piv-s'd (he Azure rocks ; But now 1 feu her trip will be a Damo'd business for my Miss Medea, &e. ic. as it very nearly was to me ; — for, had not this sublime ge been in my head, I should never have dreamed of ascending the said rocks,* and bruising my carcass in honour of the ancients. " I have now sat on the Cyaneans, swam from Sestos to Abydos, (as I trumpeted in my last,) and, aftej passing through the Morea again, shall set sail for Santa Maura, and toss myself from the Leucadian promontory; — sur- viving which operation, I shall probably rejoin you in England. H. who will deliver this, is bound straight for these parts; and as he is bursting with his travels, I shall not anticipate his narratives, but merely beg you not to believe one word he savs, but reserve your ear for me, if you have anv desire to be acquainted with the truth. 8 1 am bound for Athens once more, and thence to thi Morea ; but my stay depends so much on my caprice, that I can say nothing of its probable duration. I have been out a year already, and may stay another ; but I am quicksilver, and say nothing positively. We are all very much occupied doing nothing, at present. We have seen evrv thing but the in tsques,~which we are to view with a firman on Tuesday next. But of these and other sun- dries let H. relate, with this proviso, that /am to he re- ferred to for authenticity ; and I beg leave to contradict all those things whereon he lays particular stress. But, if he soars, at anytime, into wit, I give you leave to ap- plaud, because that is necessarily stolen from his fellow- pUgrim. Tell Danes that H. has made excellent use of Jokes in many of his majesty's ships of war ; but add, also, that I always took care to restore them to the right owner ; in consequence of which he. (Davies,) is no less famous by water than by land, and reigns unrivalled in the cabin, as in the 'Cocoa Tree, 1 • And Hodgson has been publishing more poesy — I wish he would send me his 'Sir Edgar,' and 'Bland's Anthology' to Malta, where they will be forwarded. In my last, which I hope you received, I gave an outline of the ground we have covered. If you have not been over- taken by this despatch, H.'s tongue is at your service. Remember me to Dwycr, who owes rac eleven guineas. Tell him to put them in my banker's hands at Gibraltar or Constantinople. I believe he paid them once, but that goes for nothing, as it was an annuity. " I wish you would write. I have heard from Hodgson frequently. Malta is my post-office. I mean to be with you by next Montem. You remember the last, — I hope for such another ; but, afier having swam across the ' broad Hellespont,' I disdain Datchett. Good afternoon ! "I am yours, very sincerely, ■Byron." ' See Cbilde Harold, Cauto IV. elatua 179 i &I*J answer to Bowles. LETTER LIX. TO THE HOS. UBS. BYROX. "Constantinople, June 28th, 1SI0. °MV DEAR MOTHER, "I regret to perceive by your last letter, that several of mine have not arrived, particularly a very long one, written in November last, from Albania, when I was on a visit to the Pacha of that province. Fletcher has a-'so written to his spouse perpetually. Mr. Hobhouse, who will forward or deliver this, and is on his return to Eng- land, can inform you of our different movements, but I am very uncertain as to my own return. He will probably be down to Nol time or other; but Fletcher, whom I send back as an incumbrance, (English sen-ants are sad travellers,) will supply his place in the interim, and describe our travels, which have been tolerably ex- tensive. I have written twice briefly from this capital, from Smyrna, from Athens, and other parts of Greece ; from Albania, the Pacha of which province desired his respects to my mother, and said he was sure I was a man of higli birth, because I had small ears, curling hair and white hands ! ! He was very kind to me, begged me to consider him as a father, and gave me a guard of forty soldiers through the forests of Acarnania. But of this and other circumstances I have written to you at large, and yet hope you will receive my letters. "I remember Mahmout Pacha, the grandson of Ali Pacha, at Yanina, (a Iktle fellow often years of age, with large black eyes, which our ladies would purchase at any price, and those regular features which distinguish the Turks,) asked ra h i i ame to travel so young, without any body to take care of me. This question was nut by the little man with all the gravity cf threescore. I cannot now write copiously ; I have only time to tell you that I have passed many afati never a tedious mo- ment ; and that all I am afraid of is, that I shall contract Li n, whi ii will make home tiresome to me : this, 1 am told, is very common with men in the habit of peregrination, and, indeed, I feci it so. On the third of May, I swam from Sestos to Abydos. You know the story of Leander, but I had no Hero to receive me at landing. "I also passed a fortnight in the Troad : the tombs of Achilles and Esyetes still exist in large barrows, similar to those you have, doubtless, seen in the North. The other day I was at Belgrade, (a village in these envn o ) to see the house built on the same site as Lady Mary Wortley's; by-thc-by, her Ladyship, as far as I can judge, has lied, but not half so'much as any other woman would have done in the same situation. I have been in all the principal mosques by the virtue of a firman ; tins is a favour rarely permitted to infidels, but the ambassa- dor's departure obtained it for us. I have been up the Bosphorus into the Black Sea, round the walls of the city, and indeed I know more of it by sight, than 1 do o> London. I hope to amuse you some winter's evening with the details, but at present you must excuse me ; I am not able to write long letters in June. I return to spend my summer in Greece. I shall not proceed further into Asia, as I have visited Smyrna, Ephesus, and the Troad. I write often, but you must not be alarmed when you do not receive my letters ; consider we have no regular post 22 LETTER?, 1810. further than Malta, where I beg yen will in future send your letters, and not to this city. Fletcher is a poor creature, and requires comforts thai I can dispense with. IK- a very sick of his travels, but you must not believe his account of the country; he sighs for ale, an! idleness, and a wife, and the devil' knows what besides. 1 have not been Disappointed or disgusted. I have liyed with the highest and the lowest. I have been fir days in a Pacha's palace, and have passed many a night in a cow- and I find the people inoffensive and kind. 1 have also passed some time with the principal Greeks in the Morea and Livadia, and, though inferior- to the Turks, they are better than the Spaniards, who, in their turn, excel the Portuguese. Of Constantinople you will find many descriptions in different travels ; bul Lady Wortley errs strangely when she says, 'St. Paul's would cut a strange figure by St. Sophia's.' I have been in both, surveyed them inside and out attentively. St. Sophia's is undoubtedly the most interesting from its immense an- tiquity, and tire circumstance of ail the Greek emperors, from Justinian, having been crowned there, and several murdered at the altar, besides the Turkish sultans who attend it regularly. But it is inferior in beauty and size to sonv of the mosques, particularly 'Soleyman,' &c. and not to be mentioned in the same page with St. Paul's, (I speak like a Cockney.) However, I prefer the Gothic cathedral of Seville to St. Paul's, St. Sophia's, and any- religious building I have ever seen. "The walls of the Seraglio are like the walls ofNew- stead gardens, only higher, and much in the same order ; bul the ride by the walls of the city, on the land side, is beautiful. Imagine four miles of immense triple battle- ments, covered with ivy, surmounted with 218 towers, and, on the other side of the road, Turkish burying-grounds, (the loveliest spots on earth,) full of enormous cy- presses. I have seen the ruins of Athens, of Ephesus, and Delphi. I have traversed great part of Turkey, and many other parts of Europe, and some of Asia ; but I never beheld a work of nature or art which yielded an impression like the prospect on each side from the Seven Towers to the end of the Golden Horn. '■Now for England. I am gl td to hear of the pro- tress of 'English Bards,' &c. — of course, you observed [have made great additions to the new edition. Have you received my picture from Sanders, Vigo-lane, Lon- don? It was finished and paid for long before I left England : pray, send for it. You seem to be a mighty reader of magazines : where do you pick up all this in- telligence, quotations, &c. &c. ? Though I was happy to obtain my seat without the assistance of Lord I Carlisle, I had no measures to keep with a man who declined in- terfering as my relation on that occasion, and I have done with him, though I regret distressing Mrs. Leigh, poor thing ! — I hope she i- happy. "his my opinion that Mr. 13 * * ought to marry Miss R * *. Our first duly is nol i" d" evil ; but, alasl that is impossible*: our next is to repair it, if in our power. The girl is his equal: if she were his inferior, a sum of in on and provision for the child would be some, though a poor compensation : as it is, he should marry her. 1 will have no gay deceivers on my estate, and I shall not allow my tenants a privilege I do not permit myself thai of debauching each other's daughters. Cod knows, I have been guilty of many excesses ; but, as I have laid down a resolution to reform, and Lately kept it, I expect tliis Lothario to follow the example, and begin by re- storing this girl to society, or, by the beard of my father ! In shall hear of it. Pray take some notice of Robert, who will miss Ins master: poor boy, he was very un- willing to return. I trust you are well and happy. It will be a pleasure to hear from you. "Behove me, yours very sincerely, «BVRO!». • T. S. How is Joe Murray ? "P. S. I opened my letter again to tell you that Fletcher having petitioned to accompany me into th* i : ., I have taken him with me, contrary to the mien. tion expressed i y letter.'' LETTER I.X. TO MRS. EYRON. "Athens, July 25, 1810. "dear mother, li I have arrived here in four days from Constantinople, which is considered as singularly quick, particularly for the season of the year. You northern gentry can have no conception of a Greek summer ; which, however, is a perfect frost compared with Malta and Gibraltar, where I reposed myself in the shade last year, after a gentle gallop of four hundred miles, without intermission, through Portugal and Spain. You see, by my date, that I am at Athens again, a place winch I think I prefer, upon the whole, to any I have seen. * * * "My next movement is to-morrow into the Morea, where I shall probably remain a month or two, and then return to winter here, if I do not change my plans, v. Inch, however, are very variable, as you may suppose ; but none of them verge to England. '•The Marquis of Sligo, my old fellow-collegian, is here, and wislies to accompany me into the Morea. We shall go together for that purpose. Lord S. will afterward pursue his way to the capital; and Lord B. !.. .in Men all the wonders in that quarter, will let you know what he does next, of which at present he is nol certain. Malta is my perpetual post-office, from which my letters are forwarded to all parts of the habita- ble globe : — by-the-by, 1 have now been in Asia, Africa, and the east'of Europe, and, indeed, made the most of my time, without hurrying over the most interesting scenes of the ancient world. Fletcher, after having b i n lusted, and roasted, and baked, and grilled, and eaten by all sons of creeping things, begins to philoso- phize, is grown a refined as welt as resigned character, and promises at his return to become an ornament to Ins own parish, and a very prominent person in the future family pedigree of the Fletcher's, whom I take to be Goths by their accomplishments, Greeks by their acuteness, and ancient Saxons by their appetite. He (Fletcher) begs leave to send half a dozen sighs to Sally his spouse, and wonders (though I do not) that his ill-written and worse spilled letters have never come to hand ; as for that matter, there is no ureat loss in cither of our letters, saving and except that I wish you to know we are will, and warm enough at this present writing, God knows. You must not expect long letters at present, tor they are written with the sweat of my brow, I assure vou! It is rather singular that Mr. Han- son has not written a syllable since my departure. Your letters I have most!) received, as well as o from which I conjecture that the man of law is either angry or busy. •■1 trust you like Newstcad, and agree with your neh'hbours; but you know you are a lixen — is not that a dutiful appellation? Pray, take care of my and several boxes of papers in the hands of Joseph ; and pray have lie' a lew hollies of champagne to drlld.. for I .in very thirsty;— but I do not insist on the last article, will, out vou like it. Isuppose you have yout lions- lull women, prating scandalous things. Have you ever received my picture in oil from Sanders, London ? It has been paid for these sixteen months : why do you not get it? My suite, consisting of two Turks, two Greeks, a Lutheran, and the nondescript Fletcher, are making so much noise that I am glad to sign myself "Yours, &c. &c. "BVBON* LETTERS, 1810. 23 LETTER LXI. TO MRS. BVttO.V. "Patras, July 30, 1SI0. "dear madam, "In four days from Constantinople, with a favourable mod, I arrived in the frigate, at the island of Ceos, from whence I took a boat to Athens, where I met my friend the Marquis of Sligo, who expressed a wish to proceed with me as far as Corinth. At Corinth we separated. he for Tripolitza, I fur Patras, where [ had some business with the consul, Mr. Strand, in whose house I now write. He has rendered me every service in his power since I quitted Malta on my way to Constantinople, whence I have written to you twice or thrice. In a few days I visit the Pacha at Tripolitza, make the tour of the Morea, and return a?ain to Athens, which at present is my headquarters. The heat is at present intense. In England, if it reaches 98°, you are all on fire: the other day, in travelling between Athens and Megara, the thermometer was at 125° ! ! Yet I feel no incon- venience ; of course I am much bronzed, but 1 live tem- perately, and never enjoyed better health. a Before I left Constantinople, I saw the Sultan, (with Mr. Adair,) and the interior of the mosques, things which rarely happen to travellers. Mr. Hobhouse is gone to England : I am in no hurry to return, but have no particular communications for your country, except mv surprise at Mr. Hanson's silence, and my desire that he will remit regularly. I suppose some arrange- ment has been made with regard to Wymondham and Rochdale. Malta is my post-office, or to Mr. Strane consul-general, Patras, Morea. You complain of my silence — I have written twenty or thirty times within the last year: never less than twice a month, and often more. If my letters do not arrive, you must not con- clude that we are eaten, or that there is a war, or a pesti- lence, or famine : neither must you credit sillv reports, which I dare say you have in Notts, as usual. I am very well, and neither more nor less happv than I usually am ; except that I am very glad to be once more alone, for I was sick of my companion, — not that he was a bad one, but because my nature leads me to solitude, and that every day adds to this disposition. If I chose, here are many men who would wish to join me — one wants rne to go to Egypt, another to Asia, of which I have seen enough. The greater part of Greece is al- i< ;:n!y my own, so that I shall only go over my old ground, and look upon my old seas and mountains, the only acquaintances I ever found improve upon me. 41 1 have a tolerable suite, a Tartar, two Albanians, an interpreter, besides Fletcher; but in this country these arc easily maintained. Adair received me wonderfully well, and indeed I have no complaints against any one. Hospitality here is necessary, for inns are not. I have lived in the houses of Greeks, Turks,- Italians, and English — to-day in a palace, to-morrow in a cowhouse ; this day with the Pacha, the next with a shepherd. I shall continue to write briefly, but frequently, and am glad to hear from you ; but you fill your letters with things from the papers, as if English papers were not found all over the world. I have at this moment a dozen before me. Pray take care of my books, and believe me, "My dear Mother, yours very faithfully, "Byron." prised, nor indeed have I any complaint to make, since you have written frequently, for which I thank you ; but I very much condemn Mr. Hanson, who has not taken the smallest notice of my many letters, nor of mv re~ quest before I left England,' which I sailed from on this very day fifteen months ago. Thus one year and a quarter have passed away, without my receiving the least intelligence on the state of my affairs, and they were not in a posture to admit of neglect, and I do con- ceive and declare that Mr. Hanson has acted negli- gently and culpably in not apprizing me of his proceed- ings ; I will alrfo add uncivilly. His letters, were there any, could not easily miscarry: the communications with the Levant arc slow, but tolerably secure, at leasl as far as Malta, and there I left directions which I know would he observed. I have written to you several times from Constantinople and Smyrna. You will per- ceive by my date I am returned into the Morea, of which I have been making the tour, and visiting the Pacha, who gave me a fine horse, and paid me all possi- ble honours and atlemion. I have now seen a good portion of Turkey in Europe and Asia Minor, and shall remain at Athens, and in the vicinity, till I hear from England. I have punctually obeyed your injunctions of writing frequently, but 1 shall not pretend to describe countries which have been already amply treated of. I believe before this time Mr. Hobhouse will have arrived in England, and he brings letters from me, written al Constantinople. In these I mention having seen the Sultan and the mosques, and that I swam from Sestos to Abydos, an exploit of which I take care to boast. "I am here on business at present, but Athens is my headquarters, where I am very pleasantly situated in a Franciscan convent. " Believe me to be, with great sincerity, K Yours, very affectionately, " Byrox. "P. S. Fletcher is well, and discontented as usual; his wife don't write, at least her scrawls have not ar rived. You will address to Malta. Pray have you never received my picture m oil from Sanders, Vigo lane, London 7" LETTER LXII. TO THE HON. MRS. BYRON. "Patras, Oct. 2d, 1S10. "tear madam, "It is now several months since I have received any communication from you ; but at this I am not sur- LETTER LXIII. TO MR. HODGSON. "Patras, Morea, October 3d, 1610 "As I have just escaped from a physician and a fever, which confined me five days to bed, you won't expect much 'allegrezza' in the ensuing letter. In this place there is an indigenous distemper, which, when the wind blows from the gulf of Corinth, (as it does live months out of six,) attacks great and small, and makes woful work with visiters. Here be also two physicians, one ot whom trusts to his genius (never having studied) — the other to a campaign of eighteen manths against the sick of Otranto, which he made in his youth with great effect. "When I was seized with my disorder, I protested against both these asi a ssins j — but what can a helpless, feverish, toasted-and-watered poor wretch do ? In spite of my teeth and tongue, the English consul, my Tartar, Albanians, dragoman, forced a physician upon me, and in three days vomited and glystered me to the last gasp. In this state I made my epitaph — lake it. "Youth, Nature, nri'I relenting Jove To keejj my lamp in strongly sirore. ; Bui Romnuelli wuao - He l>cat all lliree — ami 6/eir it out. But Nature and Jove, being piqued at my doubts, did, in fact, at last, beat Romanelli, and here I am, well but weakly, at your service. LETTERS, ISM. 24 "Since I left Constantinople, I have made a tour of the Morea, and raited Vely Pach >. who paid me greal honours and gave me et prettj stallion. I ! i i in Eng] ,. late of thisletter— a despatch from me to yonr hardship. He writes to me from Maltaj and requests my journal, if I keep one. I have none, or he should have it ; bul ! have n plied, in a consolatory and exh him to abate thn e and s«| ice of his n< ■ "■ ■ ■ seeing that half a guinea is a price not to he given for anything save an opera-ticket. "As for England, it is long Reard from it. Eyery one at all connected with my cow cms is a sleep, and you are my only corn odent. agents excepted. I have really m t. ii n in the world ; tliough all my old school-companions are gone forth into that world) and walfi about there in monstrous disguises, in thi guardsmen, lawyers, parsons, fine gentlemen, and such other masquei ade dress es. So, ] here shake hands and cul with all these busy people, none of whom write to me. Indeed, I asked it not; — and here I am, a poor traveller and heathenish phi! th peram- bulated the greatest part of the Levant, and pn-al quantity of very improvable land and sea, and, after all, am no better than when I set out — Lord help me ! "I have been out fifteen months this very day, and I lu'lirv*- mv cnti'-rvn > \m!1 draw me to K upland soon ; but of this I will apprize you regularly from Malta. On all points, Hobhouse will inform you, if you are curious as to our adventures. 1 have seen some old English pa- pers up to the 15th of May. I see the 'Lady of the Lake' advertised. Of course it is in his old style, and pretty. After all, Scott is the best ol The end of all scribblemcnt is to amuse, and he certainly succeeds there. I long to read his new romance, "And how does 'Sir Edgar V and your friend, Bland - ? I suppose you aro involved in some literary squabble. The only way is to despise all brothers of the quill. I suppose you won't allow me to be an author, but 1 con- temn you all, you dogs! — I do. "You don't know D s, do you? He had a force ready for the stage before 1 left i '.njaud, and a- Led m. for a prologue, which I promised, but sailed in such a hurry, I never penned a couplet. 1 am afraid to ask after his drama, for fear it. should he damned — Lord for- give me for using such a word! — but the pit, sir, pou know, the pit — they will do those things, in merit. I remember this force from a curious circum- stance. "When Drury-lane was burnt to thi ground, by which accident Sheridan and hi te few re- maining shillings they were worth, what doth my friend D do? Why, before the fire was out, he writes a note to Tom Sheridan, the manager ofthis comb concern, to inquire whether thi force wa act converted into fuel, with about two thousand other unactable manuscripts, which >; ■ in great peril, if no! actually consumed. Now, was not this charac ■ — the ruling passions of Pope are nothing to it. W bile the poor distracted m in lj i i was b) wailin • 'ii-' loss of a building only worth 300,000?. together with some twenty thousand pounds of rags and tinsol in the tiring rooms, Bluebeard's elephants, and all that — in comes a note from a scorching author, requiring at his hands two acts and odd scenes of b farce ! ! "Dear H. remind 1 >rury that I am his well and let Scrope Davics be well affected towards me. I look forward to meeting you at Newstead, and renewing our old Champagne evenings with all the glee oi antii i pation. I have written by every opportunity, and ex- pect responses as regular as those of the lit 1 1 r somewhat longer. As it is impossible for a man in his senses to hope for happy days, let us at least look forward to merry ones, which come nearest to the other in appearance, if not in reality ; and in such expectations 1 remain, &c. LETTER LXIV. TO MRS. BVnON. "Athens, January 14, 1811. "mv dear madam, '• I si i ! i - i «l i" write as usual, shortly, but frequently, as the arrival o! l-inr-, where there exists no regular communica ion, is, of c airs ■, very precarious. I have lately mad< ill tours of some hundred or two mil* • a1 ml Attica, Stc. as I have finished my grand gil Constantinople, &c. and am returned down again to Athens. I believe I have mentioned to you more than once, that I swain (m imitation of Leander, though without his lady) across the I u Uospont, from Seslos to Abydos. Of this, and all ntlnr particulars, P. whom I have sent home with papers, &c. will apprize you. I cannot find that he is . being toler iblj master "I the Italian and I lre< k languages, which last I am also studying with a master, I can order and discourse more than foi i reasonable man. Besides the perpetual lamentations after bei fand beer, the stupid, bigoted con- tempt for every thin ] foreign, and insurmountable inca- pacity of acquiring even a few words of any language, rendered him, like all ol i servants, an incum- brance. I do assuro you, the plague of speaking for him, thocomfoii i be required, (more than myselfby for,) (he pilaws, (a Turkish dish of rice and meat,) which he couldnot .. at,thewini a whit h he could not drink, the beds where he could not sleep, and the long list of calamities, such as stumbling horses, want of tea ! ! ! &c. which as- sailed him, would have made a lasting source of laughter to a spectator, and inconvenience to a master. After all, the man is honest enough, and, in Christendom, capable enough; bul in Turkey, Lord forgive mo! my Albanian soldiers, my Tartars and Janizary, worked for him and us i"". as my friend \ [obhouse can testify. "It is probable! may steer homewards in spring ; hut, to enable me to do that, I must, have remittances. My own funds would have lasted me very well; but I was obliged to assist a friend, who, ( know, will pay me ; i.ur, in the mean time, I am out of pocket. At present, I do not care to venture a winter's voyage, even if I otherwise tired of travelling; hut I am so convm . mankind instead of reading about them, and the bitter effects ol staying at home with all the narrow pri judices of an islander, thai I think there should be a law among us, to set our young men abroad, for a term, among the few allies our wars have left US. "Here I see and have conversed with French, Italians, Germans, Danes, Greeks, Turks, Americans, & ! I of my own, I can ju the countries and maim of otfo r . Where I sec the : Ingland, (which, by-thc-by, v\ e are a deal mistaken about in many (lungs,) I am plea - ivhere I I ind : - inferior, I am at least enlightened. Now, I might ' in your towns, or fog ;ed in your i ry, a i cntury, withoul b ■ ! without acquiring any tiling more useful or ■ at home. I keep no journal, nor have I any intention of scribbling my travels. 1 have done with authorship; and if, in my last production, I have B D- rinced the critics of the world I was something more than they took me for, I am satisfied; nor will I hazard that reputation by a future effort. It is true I have some others in manuscript, but I leave them for the* come after me; and, if deemed wortii publishing, they may serve to prolong my memory when I myself shall cease to remember. I havo a famous Bavarian artist LETTERS, 1811. 25 diet, which it is very necessary for me to ob- ttzfzfJSz ££ t^ Si ^ m r ... cured of. I hope, on my relurn, to lead a quiet, recluse life, but God knows and does best for us all ; at least, so they say, and I have nothing to object, as, on the whole, I have no reason to complain of my lot. I am convinced, however, lhat men do more harm to themselves than ever the devil could do to them. I trust this will find vou well, and as happy as we can be ; you will, at least, be pleased to hear I am so, and yours ever." LETTER LXV. TO MRS. EYRON. •Athena, Feb. 28,1811. "dear madam, "As I have received a firman fir Egypt, &c. I shall proceed to that quarter in the spring, and I beg you will state to Mr. Hanson that it is necessary to further re- mittances. On the subject of Newstead I answer, as before, no. If « is necessary to sell, sell Rochdale. Fletcher will have arrived by this time with my letters to that purport. I will tell you fairly, I have, in the first place, no opinion of funded properly ; if, by any particu- lar circumstances, I shall be led to adopt such a deter- mination, 1 will, at all events, pass my life abroad, as my only tie to England is Newstead, and, that once gone, neither interest nor inclination lead me northward. Competence in your country is ample wealth in the east, such is the diFerence in the value of money and the ebundance of the necessaries of life ; and 1 feel myself so much a citiren of the world, that the spot wncre 1 can enjoy a delicious climate, and every luxury, at a less ex- pense than a common college life in England, will al- ways be a country to me ; and such are in fact the shores of the Archipelago. This then is the alternative —if I preserve Newstead, 1 return ; if I sell it, 1 slay away. I have had no letters since yours of June, but 1 have written several times, and shall continue, as usual, on the same plan. " Believe me, yours ever, " Byron. « P. S. I shall most likely see you in the course of the •ummer, but, of course, at such a distance, I cannot spe- cify any particular month." with the exception of two agues, both of which 1 quickly got over. "My plans will so much depend on circumstances, that I shall not venture lo lay down an opinion on the subject. Mv prospects are not very promising, but I suppose we shall wrestle through life like our neighbours; deed, by H.'s last advices, 1 have some apprehensions of finding Newstead dismantled by Messrs. Brothers, &c. anil he seems determined lo force me into selling it, but he will be baffled. 1 don't suppose I shall he much pestered with visiters; but if I am, you must receive them, for I am determined to have nobody breaking in U| nv retirement: you know that I never was fond of society, and I am less so than before. I have brought vou a shawl, and a cuanhty of attar of roses, but these t must snuigL'le, if possible. 1 trust to find my library in tolerable order. '• Fletcher is no doubl arrived. I shall separate the mill from Mr. B * *.'s farm, fir his son is too gay a de- ceiver to inherit both, and place Fletcher in it, who has served ine failhfully, and whose w ife is a good woman ; besides, it is necessary to sober young Mr. B * *, or ha will people the parish with baslards. In a word, ifhe had seduced a dairymaid, he might have found something like an apology"; but the girl is his equal, and in high life or low life reparation is made in such circumstances. But I shall not interfere further than (like Buonaparte) by dismembering Mr. B.'s kingdom, and erecting part of it' into a principality for field-marshal Fletcher ! I hope vou oovern my little empire and its sad load of national iiebt with a wary hand. To drop my metaphor, I beg leave to subscribe myself, yours, &c. "P. S. This letter was written to be sent from Ports- mouth, but, on arriving there, the squadron was ordered to the Nore, from whence I shall forward it. This I have not done before, supposing you might be alarmed bv the uiterval mentioned in the letter being longer than expected between our arrival m port and my appearance at New6tead." LETTER LXVI. TO MRS. BVRON. "Volage frigate, at sea, Juno 25th, 1811. "DEAR mother, " This letter, which will he forwarded on our arrival at Portsmouth, probably about the fourth of July, is begun about twenty-three days afier our departure from Malta. I have just been two years (to a day, on the second of July) absent from England, and I return to it with much the same feelings which prevailed on my departure, viz. indifference ; but within that apathy 1 certainly do not comprise yourself, as I will prove by every mean? in my power. You will be good enough to get my apartment i ready at Newstead, but don't disturb yourself on any account, particularly mine, nor consider me in any other light than as a visiter. I must only inform you that for a longtime I have been restricted to an entire vegetable diet, neither Ssh nor flesh coming within my regimen ; so I expect a powerful stock of potatoes, greens, an;l biscuit I drink no wme. I have two servants, middle-aged men, and bothGreeks. It is my intention to proceed hr-i lo town, to see Mr. Hanson, and thence u> Newstead, u my wa> to Rochdale. I have only to beg yuu wUl not 4 LETTER LXVH. TO MR. HODGSON. " Volage frigate, at sea, June 29lh, 1811. In a week, with a fair wind, we shall be at Ports- mouth, and on the 2d of July, 1 shall have completed (to dav) two years of peregrination, from which I am re- turning with as little emotion as I set out. I think, upon the whole, I was more grieved at leaving Greece than England, which I am impatient to see, simply because I am tired of a long voyage. "Indeed, my prospects are not very pleasant. Em- barrassed in my private affairs, indifferent to public, solitary without the wish to be social, wiih a body a little enfeebled by a succession of fevers, but a spoil, I trust, vet unbroken, I am returning home without a hope, and almost without a desire. The first thing I shall have to encounter will be a lawyer, the next a creditor, then colliers, farmers, surveyors, and all the agreeable attach- ments to estates out of repair and contested coal-pils. In short, I am sick and sorry, and when I have a little re- paired my irreparable affairs, away I shall march, either to campaign in Spain, or back anain to the East, where I can at least have cloudless skies and a cessation from impertinence. » 1 trust to meet, or see you, in town or at Newstead, whenever you can make it convenient.— I suppose you are in love and in poetry, as usual. That husband, H. Drury,*has never written to me, albeit I have sent him more than one letter;— but I dare say the poor man has a family, and of course all lus car«s aro conlmod lo hts circle. 26 LETTERS, 1811. " ' Furcliililirr. f.Mh e*i>en»es f-el, *nd Dicky now for school i» fit." — Wurton. If yoti see him, tell him I have a letter for him from Tucker, a regimental chuwgeon and friend of his, who prescribed for me, * * * and is a very worthy man, hut too fond of hard words. I should be too late for a speech-day, or I should probably go down to Har- row. ******** I regretted very much in Grcnr h;i\ \n\i omitted to carry the Anthology with me — I mean Bland and Merivale's. **** * * * + * What has Sir Ed^ar done ? And the Imitations and Translations — where arc they ? 1 suppose you don't mean to let the public off so easilv, but charge then) home with a quarto. For me, I arn ' sick of fops and poesy and prate,' and shall leave the 'whole Castalian state' to Bufo, or any body else. But you are a senti- mental and Sensibiiilous person, and will rhyme to the end of the chapter. Howbeit, I have written some 4000 lines, of one kind or another, on my travels. "I need not repeat that 1 shall be happy to see you. I shall be in town about the 8th, at Dorant's Hotel, in Albemarle-street, and proeecd in a few days to Notts, and thence to Rochdale on business. u I am, here and there, yours, &c." LETTER LXVIII. TO SIR. DALLAS. * Volage frigate, at sea, June 2Sth, 1811. "After two years' absence, (to a day, on the 2d of July, before which we shall not arrive at Portsmouth,) I am retracing my way to England. 1 have, as you know, spent the greater part of that period in Turkey, except two months in Spain and Portugal, which were then ac- cessible. I have seen every thing most remarkable in Turkey, particularly the Troad, Greece, Constantinople, and Albania, into which last region very few have pene- trated so high as Hobhouse and myself. I don't know that I have done any thing to distinguish me from other voyagers, unless you will reel, on my swimming from Sestos to Abydos, on May 3d, 1810, a tolerable feat for a modern. H I am coming back with little prospect of pleasure at home, and with a body a little shaken by one or two smart fevers, but a spirit I hope yet unbroken. My affairs, it seems, are considerably involved, ami much business must be done with lawyers, colliers, farmers, and creditors. Now this, to a man who hates bustle as he hates a bishop, is a serious concern. But enough of my home department. "I find I have been scolding Cawthorn without a cause, as I found two parcels with two letters from you on my return to Malta. By these it appears you have not received a letter from Constantinople, addressed to Longman's, but it was of no consequence. "My Satire, it seem?, is in a fourth edition, a success rather above the middling run, hut not much for a production which, from its topics, must be temporary, and of course be successful at first, or not at all. At this period, when I can think and aet more coolly, I regret that I have written it, though I shall probably find it forgotten by all except those whom it has offended. "Mr. Hobhouse's Miscellany has not succeeded, but tie himself writes so good humouredly on the subject, I don't know whether to laugh or cry with him. He met with your son at Cadiz, of whom he speaks highly. " Yours and Pratt's protege, Blackett the cobbler,* is dead, in spite of his rhymes, and is probably one of the in- • Hwnrte to Hinli frura Horace, page 390. stances where death has saved a man from damnation. You were the ruin of that poor fellow among you: had i* not been for I us patrons, he might now have been in very good plight, shoe (not verse) making; but you have made him immortal with a vengeance. I write this, sup- posing poetry, patronage, and strong waters to have been the death of him. If you are in town in or about the be- ginning of July, you will find me at Dorant's in Albe- marle-street, glad to see you. I have an Imitation oj Horace's Art of Poetry ready for Cawthorn, but don't let that deter you, (or I shan't inflict it upon you. You know I never read my rhymes to visiters. I shall quit 4«*vn in a few days for Notts, and thence to Rochdale. I shall send this the moment we arrive in harbour, that is a week hence. • " Yours ever sincerely, ■ByRQw" < LETTER LXIX. TO MR. HENRY DRURr. "Volage frigate, ofTUshant, July 17th, 1811. "my dear drury, " After two years' absence (on the second) and some odd days, I am approaching your country. The day of our arrival you will see by the outside date of my letter. At present, we are becalmed comfortably, close to Brest Harbour ; I have never been so near it since I left Duck Puddle. ******** We left Malta thirty-four days ago, and have had a te- dious passage of it. You will either see or hear from or >f me, soon after the receipt of this, as I pass through town to repair my irreparable affairs ; and thence 1 want to go to Notts, and raise rents, and to Lanes, and sell collieries, and back to London and pay debts ; (or it seems I shall neither have coals or comfort till I go down to Rochdale in person. " I have brought home some marbles (or Hobhouse ; for myself, four ancient Athenian skulls,* dug out of Sarcophagi ; a phial of attic hemlock \\ four live tortoises ; a greyhound, (died on the passage ;) two live Greek ser- vants, one an Athenian, t' other a Yaniote, who can speak nothing but Romaic and Italian; and inyst//", as Moses in the Vicar of Wakefield says, slity, and I may say it too, for I have as little cause to boast of my expedi- tion as lie had of his to the fair. " I wrote to you from the Cyanean Rocks, to tell you I had swum from Sestos to Abydos ; have you received my letter? * * * Hodgson, I suppose, is four deep by this time. What would he have given to have seen, hke me, the real Parnassus^ where 1 robbed the Bishop ofCrissffi of a book of geography; but this I only iall plagiarism, as it was done within an hour's ride of Delphi." LETTER LXX. TO THE HON. MRS. BYRON. • Reddish's Hotel, July 23d, 1811, " St. James's-street, London. ■my dear madam, B I am only detained by Mr. Hanson, to sign some copyhold papers, and will give you timely notice of my approach. It is with great reluctance I remain in town. I shall pay a short visit as we go on to Lancashire on Rochdale business. I shall attend to your directions, of course, and am, * With great respect, yours ever, * Byron. P. S. You will consider Newstead as your house, not mine ; and me only as a visiter." • r,ir« n iftemard fo Sir Walter Seolt. t lu iht poueuiou of Mr. Muiraj. LETTERS, 1811. 27 LETTER LXXI. TO DR. PIGOT. 8 Newport Pagnell, August 2, 1811. ■my dear doctor, tt IVly poor mother died yesterday ! arid I am on my way -from town to attend her to the family vault. I heard one day of her illness, the next of her death. — Thank God her last moments were most tranquil. I am told she was in little pain, and not aware of her situation. — I now feel the truth of Mr. Grav's observation, 'That we can only have one mother.' — Peace be with her ! I have to thank vou for your expressions of regard, and as in six weeks I shall be in Lancashire on business, I may extend to Liverpool and Chester, — at least I shall en- deavour. "If it will be any satisfaction, I have to inform you that in November next the editor of the Scourge will be tried f >r two different libels on the late Mrs. B. and myself) (the decease of Mrs. B. makes no difference in the proceedings,) and as he is guilty, by his very foolish and unfounded assertion, of a breach of privilege, he will be prosecuted with the utmost rigour. " I inform you of this, as you seem interested in the affair, which is now in the bands of the attorney-ge- neral. u 1 shall remain at Newstead the greater part of this month, where I shall be happy to hear from you, after my two years' absence in the East. "I am, dear Pigot, " Yours very truly, " Byron." LETTER LXXn. TO MR. SCROPE DAVIES. "Newstead Abbey, August 7th, 1811. • ATT DEAREST DAVIES, " Some curse hangs over me and mine. My mother lies a corpse in this house : one of my best friends is drowned in a ditch. "What can I say. or think, or do? I received a letter from him the day before yesterday. My dear Scrope, if you can spare a moment, do come down to me, I want a friend. Matthews's last letter was written on Friday,— on Saturday he was not. In ability, who was like Matthews?* How did we all shrink before him? You do me but justice in saying, I would have risked my paltry existence to have preserved his. This very evening did I mean to write, inviting him, as I invite you, my very dear friend, to visit me. God forgive * * * for his apathy ! "What will our poor Hobhousc feel! His letters breathe but of Matthews. Come to me, Scrope, I am almost desolate — left almost alone in the world — 1 had but you, and H. and M. and let me enjov the survivors while I can. Poor M. in his letter of Friday, speaks of his intended contest for Cam- bridge, and a speedy jouniev to London. Write or cumc, but come if you can, or one or both. " Yours ever." LETTER LXXIII. TO EOLTON, ESQ. B Newstead Abbey, August 12th, 1811. ■sir, 1 enclose a rough draft of my intended will, which I ocg to have drawn up as soon as possible in the firmest manner. The alterations are principally made in con- sequence of the death of Mrs. Byron. 1 have only to * See I-cUei 463. request that it may be got ready in a short time, and hava the honour to be, " Your most obedient humble servant, "Byron." " Newstead Abbey, August 12th, 1811. "DIRECTIONS FOR THE CONTENTS OF A WILL TO EE DRAWN UP IMMEDIATELY. "The estate of Newstead to be entailed (suhject 1f> certain deductions) on George Anson Byron, heir at law, or whoever may be the heir at law on the death of Lord B. The Rochdale property to be sold in part or the whole, according to the debts and legacies of the present Lord B. " To Nicolo Giraud of Athens, subject of France, but born in Greece, the sum of seven thousand pounds ster linsj to be paid from the sale of such parts of Rochdale. Newstead, or elsewhere, as mav enable the said Nicole Giraud, (resident at Athens and Malta in the year 1810,) to receive the above sum on his attaining the age ol twenty-one years. "To William Fletcher, Joseph Murray, and Demetrius ZograrTo,* (native of Greece,) servants, the sum of fifty pounds per ann. each, for their natural lives. To W" 1 Fletcher the mill at Newstead, on condition that he payeth the rent, but not subject to the caprice of the landlord. To R 1 Rushton the sum of fifty pounds per ann. for life, and a further sum of one thousand pounds on attaining the age of twenty-five years. ; To J u Hanson, Esq. the sum of two thousand pounds sterling. " The claims of S. B. Davies, Esq. to be satisfied on proving the amount of the same. The body of Lord B. to be buried in the vault of the garden of Newstead, without any ceremony or burial- service whatever, or any inscription, save his name and age. His dog not to be removed from the said vault. My library and furniture of every description to mj friends J D Cam Hohhouse, Esq. and S. B. Davies, Esq y executors. In case of their decease, the Rev. J Becher of Southwell, Notts, and R. C. Dallas, Esq. oi Mortlake, Surrey, to be executors. "The produce of the sale ofWvmondham in Norfolk, and the late Mrs. B.'s Scotch property, to be appropri- ated in aid of the payment of debts and legacies." "This is the last will and testament of me the Rt. Hon ble George Gordon Lord Byron, Baron Byron of Rochdale in the county of Lancaster. — I desire that my body mav be buried in the vault of the garden of New- stead, without any ceremony or burial-service whatever and that no inscription, save my name and age, be written on the tomb or tablet ; and it is my will that my faithful dog may not be removed from the said vault. To the performance of this my particular desire, I rely on the attention of my executors hereinafter named." " It is submitted to Ijord Byron whither this clause re- lative to the funeral had not better be omitted. The suf>- staxice of it can be given i?i a letter from Jus lordship to the executors, and accompany the will ; and the will may state that the funeral shall be performed in such manner as his lordship may by letter direct, mid 1 in default of any ftuch tettt r, then at the discretion of his executors." "It must stand. *B." "I do hereby specifically order and direct that all the claims of the said S. B. Davies upon me shall l>e fullv paid and satisfied as soon as conveniently may be after my decease, on his proving [by vouchers, or other- 1 If the papers lie not, (which the? generally do.) Demetrius Zo- h ol Athens is at Uw head uf [tie Athenian pirt of the Greek insur- .„Joo. He was my servant i» 1809. 1810. Ml, 1812, M different inurrsla in thorn years, (for 1 left him in Greece when 1 went lo Coo. ■Untinople,) and accompanied me lo England in 1811 ; he returned to Greece, spring, 1812. lie was a clever, but nol apparently an enter, ing m.w ; but cirenmsmiices make men. His two sons (then infants) c mimed Miliiades aud Alcibiades : may the omeu U happy!'— A/.V. Journal. LETTERS, 1811. 28 wise, to the satisfaction of my executors herpinaflor named*] Ibe amount thereof and tlie correctness of the panic." "■If Mr. Darin has any unnttlUd rlmmt upon I/rrd Byron, thai arnaiuHma in a reatm .!'■•' la* not liring ap- | executor; enrh rxcnti features of 'those 1 have known of their fleshy covering; even in idea, without a hideous sensation; but the onus are less ceremonious. — Surely, the Romans did ell when they burned the dead.— 1 shall be happy to hear from you, and am " ^ ours, &c." LETTER LXXV. TO MR. BOLTON. •Newstead Abbey, AugUSl -0, 1811. "sir, ■The witnesses shall he provided from anion" my tenants, and 1 shall be happy to a*e yon on any day most convenient to yourself. I forgot to mention that h nmsl he specified by codicil, or otherwise, that ray bod) is on no account, to be removed from the vault where I have di- rected it to he placed ; anil, in case any of mv successors within the entail, (from bigotry, or otherwise.) might thmk proper to remove the carcass, such proceeding shall be attended by forfeiture of the estate, which, m such case, shall go to mv swot, the lion' 1 '" Augusta Leigh and her heirs on similar conditions. I have the honour to be, sir, " Your very obedient, humble servant, "Byron." * Over the wordi hero placed heiwccn bruckel». Lord Rjrou drew Mi pen. t hi the elun»e utainiernUnB ihe namee nml place* of abode of ihe exeeti- i ., i, th« • illrllfflr had left I ■ ' i ' ■ I.. i Lord Byron, having filled upalttmi thai ofDallne, wi " l forge i ili- hriettaii w "I Dnlli cm him out." He altociec 1 imlheWthol thii month a codicil, by which he revoked Ihfl bequeat of bit ' houaalielil e-">- bree, wetchea, plate, ! n,( la, an i oil ei pvraonal ratal ■ ,:, i) i i ! .,■,..'■ i .'i.' wriililn itir walla niihr m premlaeaat hla dciccnae— and r>eq«i Iiheaame [except hli wine and apirituom Itaaore) to hts fi If nit* UieaaldJ I HobhouM. 3. U.Davlee, end Prancii tkxlgaon, tln-ir executora, Ac. to •-■ eqtiallv divided i" tween itu'in rorthelr own use; — un-l lie bequeathed hla wine lad iplrkaooe Hqiiora, which ahould be In the reUare and pr*mi«e»ai Newetead , onto hla I I tin laid J. RVchi-r for In* uwn use. and reoueeud the moid J. t_'. Bnbhouae, S. B. laviea, F\ Hodgeon, and J. Becher, reepeetivaly, n k b i ihe i limit ihei em contained, to ilicm rc^t-cuvolj, aaa \okca of Ml irknriahfti LETTER LXXVII. TO MR. HODGSON. "Newstead Abbey, August 22d, 1811. "You may have heard of the sudden death of my mo- ther, and poor Matthews, which, with that of Wiugfit 'r poor Hobhouse, — Matthews was the 'god of his idolatry;' and if intellect could exalt a man above hi* fellows, no o N c could refuse him pre-emi- nence. I knew him mosl intimately, and valued nun tporuonably, bul I am recurring — so let us talk of life and the living. "If you should feel a disposition to come here, yon will find 'beef and a sea-coal fire,' and not ungenerous wine. Whether Otway's two other requisites for an Englishman or not, 1 cannot tell, but probably one ol them.— Let me know when I may expect you, that 1 may tell you when I go and when return. — I have not Vet been to LBJIOS. * * * * * * I hwies has been here, and has invited me to Cambridge for a week in October, so that, peradventure, we may encounter glass to glass. It is gayety (death cannot mar it) has done me service ; but, after all, ours was a hollow laughter. * S-j.' Uiddo HwoJJ, DOU linij, to< aioo J. LETTERS, 1811. 29 ■ You will write to me ? I am solitary, and \ never felt solitude irksome before. Your anxiety about tbe Critique Oil* *'s book is amu<"mg; as it was anonymous, cerres, it was of little consequence: I wish it had pro- duced a little more confusion, being a lover of literary Are vou doing nothing.' writing nothing.' printing nothing .' whv not your Satire on Methodism .' the subject (supposing the public to be blind to merit) would do wonders. Besides, it would be as well for a destined deacon to. prove his orthodoxy. — It really would give me pleasure to see you properly appreciated. 1 sav really, as, being an author, my humanity might be suspected. " Believe me, dear H. yours always." LETTER LXXVIII. TO MR. DALLAS. u Newstead, August 21, 1811. * Your letter gives me credit for more acute feelings than I possess ; for though 1 feel tolerably miserable, yet 1 am at the same time subject to a kind of hysterical merriment, or rather laughter without merriment, which 1 can neither account for nor conquer, and yet I do not feel relieved bv it ; but an indifferent person would think me in excellent spirits. 'We must forget these things, and have recourse to our old selfish comforts, or rather I able selfishness. I do not think 1 shall return to London immediately, and shall therefore accept freely what is offered courteously — your mediation between me and Murray. I don't think my name will answer tbe purpose, and vou must be aware that my plaguy Satire will bring the north and south Grub-streets down upon the ' Pilgrimage j 3 — but, nevertheless, if Murray makes a point of it, and you coincide with him, I will do it daringly; so let it be entitled, 'By the Author of English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. 1 My remarks on the Romaic, &c. once intended to accompany the 'Hints from Horace,' shall go along with the other, as being in leed more appropriate ; also the smaller poems DOW in my possession, with a few selected from those published in Hobho:ise r s Miscellany. I have found among my poor mother's papers all my letters from the Bast, and one in particular of some length from Albania. fr'rom this, if necessarv, 1 can work up a noie or two on that subject. As I kept no journal, the letters written on the spot are the best. But of this anon, when we have definitively arranged. ■ Has Murray shown the work to any one ? He may — but I will have no traps for applause. Of course there are little things I would wish to alter, and perhaps the two stanzas of a buffooning cast on London's Sunday are as well left out. I much wish to avoid identifying i ,il le Harold's character with mine, and that, in sooth, t*- my second objection to my name appearing in the ge. When you have made arrangements as to bine, si?.-, type, &c. favour me with a reply. I am giving you a universe of trouble, which thanks cannot a>one for. I made a kind of prose apology for my skep- ii is. ii at the head of the MS. which, on recollection, is so much more like an attack than a defence, that, haply, it might better be omitted : — perpend, pronounce. After all, I (car Murray will be in a scrape with the orthodox ; but I cannot help it, though I wish him well through it As for me, ' I have supped fidl of criticism.' and I don't think that the 'most dismal treatise 5 will stir and rouse my 'fell of hair 5 till * Bir nam- wood do come to Dunai- nane.' "I shall continue to write at intervals, and hope you will pav me in kind. How does Pratt get on, or rather get off Joe Blackett's posthumous stock? You killed that poor man among you, in spite of your Ionian friend tud myself, who would have saved hun from Pratt, poctrv, pnsrnt poivrtv ar.d y.osthtimous oblivion. Cruel patronage! to nun a man at lus calling; but then he is a divine subject for subscription a r .d biography ; and Pratt, who makes the most of his dedications, has inscribed the volume to no less than five families of distinction. I am sorry vou don't like Harry White ; with a great deal of cant, which in him was sincere, (indeed, it killed him as vou killed Joe BlackeU,) cerles, there is poesy and genius. I don't sav this on account o{ my simile and rhymes ;* but surely he was beyond all the Bloom- fields and Blacketts, and* the ir*eo I lateral cobblers, whom LolR and Pratt have or may kidnap from their calling into the service of the trade. You must excuse my flip- pancy, for I am writing I know not what, to escape from myself Hobhouse is gone to Ireland. Mr. Davies has been here on his way to Harrow-gate. " You did not know Mr. Matthews ; he was a man of the most astonishing powers, as he sufficiently proved at Cambridge, bv carrying off more prizes and fellowships, against the ablest candidates, than any other graduate on "ecord ; but a most decided atheist, indeed, noxiously so, for he proclaimed his principles in all societies. I knew him well, and feel a loss not easily to be supplied to my- self—to Hobhouse never. Let me hear from you, and ** Believe me, &r " LETTER LXXIX. TO MR. MURRAY. " Newstead Abbey, Notts, August 23, 1811. "sir, a A domestic calamity in the death of a near relation has hitherto prevented my addressing you on the subject of this letter. — My friend Mr. Dallas "has placed in your hands a manuscript poem written by me in Greece, which he tells me you do not object to publishing. But he also informed me in London that you wished to send the MS. to Mr. Gifford. Now, though no one would feel more gratified by the chance of obtaining his obser- vations on a work than myself there is in such a proceed- ing a kind of petition for praise, that neither my pride — or whatever you please to call it — will admit. Mr. G. is not onlv the first satirist of the day, but editor of one of the principal Reviews. As such, lie is the last man whose censure (however eager to avoid it) I would de- precate by clandestine means. You will therefore re- tain the MS. in your own care, or, if it must needs be shown, send it to another. Though not very patient of censure, I would fain obtain fairly any little praise my rhvmes might deserve, at all events not by extortion and the humble solicitations of a bandied-about MS. 1 am sure a little consideration will convince you it would bo wrong. " If you determine on publication, I have some smaller poems, (never published,) a few notes, and a short disser- tation on the literature of the modern Greeks, (written at Athens,) which will come in at the end of the volume. — And if the present poem should succeed, it is my inten- tion, at some subsequent period, to publish some selec- tions from my first work, — my Satire, — another nearly the same length, and a few other things, with the MS. now in your hands, in two volumes. — But of these here- after. You will apprize me of your determination. I am, sir, " Your very obedient, &C." LETTER LXXX. TO MR. DALLAS. "Newstead Abbey, August 25, 1811. " Being fortunately enabled to frank, I do not spare scribbling, having sent you packets within the last ten 1 See " £itf Lis!) BjiUi.' 30 LETTERS, 1811. days. I am parsing solitary, and do not expect my agent to accompanv me to Rochdale before the second week in September, a delay which perplexes me, as I wish the business over, and should at present welcome employment. I sent you exordiums, annotations, &c. for the forthcoming quarto, if quarto it is. to be; and I also have written to Mr. Murray my objection to sending the MS. to Juvenal, but allowing him to sho*v it to any others of the calling. Hobhouse is anion'.' iIm* types al- ready ; so, between his prose and my verse, the world will be decentlv drawn upon for its paper money and pa- tience. Besides all this, my ( Imitation of Horace' is gasping for the press at Cawthorn's, but I am hesitating as to the how and the when^ the single or the double, the present or the future. You must excuse all this, for I have nothing to say in tliis lone mansion but of myself, and vet I would willingly talk or think of aught else. " What are you about to do? Do you think of perch- ing ID Cumberland, as you opined when I was in the me- tropolis? If you mean to retire, why not occupy Miss * * *'s 'Cottage of Friendship, 1 late the seat of Cob- bler Joe, for whose death you and others are answer- able? His ' Orphan Daughter' (pathetic Pratt!) will, certes, turn out a shoemaking Sappho. Have you no remorse? I think that elegant address to Miss Dallas should be inscribed on the cenotaph which Miss * * * means to stitch to his memory. " The newspapers seein much disappointed at his majesty's not dying, or doing something better. I pre- sume it is almost over. If parliament meets in October, I shall be in town to attend. I am also invited to Cam- bridge for the beginning of that month, but am first to jaunt to Rochdale. Now Matthews is gone, and Hob- house in Ireland, I have hardly one left there to bid me welcome, except my inviter. At thrce-and-twenty I am left alone, and what more can we be at seventy ? It is true, I am young enough to begin again, but with whom can I retrace the laughing part of life? It is odd how few of my friends have died a quiet death, — I mean, in their beds. But a quiet life is of more consequence. Yet one loves squabbling and jostling better than vawn- ing. This last word admonishes me to relieve you from " Yours very truly, &c." LETTER LXXXI. TO MR. DALLAS. "Newstead Abbey, August 27, 1811. "I was so sincere in my note on the late Charles Matthews, and do feel mvself so totally unable to do justice to his talents, that the passage must stand for the very reason you bring against it. To him all the men I ever knew were pigmies. He was an intellectual giant It is true I loved YV. better ; he was the earliest and the dearest, and one of the few one could never repent of having loved: but in ability — ah! you did not know Matthews ! "'Childe Harold' may wait and welcome — books are never the worse for delay in the publication. So you have got our heir, George Anson Byron, and his sister, with you. K You may say what you please, but you are one of the murderers of Blackett, and yet you won't allow Harry White's genius. Setting aside his bigotry, he surely ranks next to Chatterton. It is astonishing how Ultle he was known ; and at Cambridge no one thoughl or heard of such a man, till his death rendered all notice useless. For my own part, I should have been most proud of such an acquaintance: his very prejudices were respectable. There is a sucking epic poet at Granta, a Mr. Townsend, proUgi of the lato Cumber- land. Did you ever hear of him and his ' Armageddon V 1 think his plan (the man 1 don't know) borders on the sublime ; though, perhaps, the anticipation of the ' Last Day,' (according to you Nazareno,) is a lit Ue too daring: at least, it looks like telling the Lord what he is to do, and might remind an ill-natured person of the line— " ' And foob ru»U in where iMiRtl* fear lo trad.' a But I don't mean to cavil, only other folks will, and he may bring all the lambs of Jacob Behmen about his ears. However, I hope he will bring it to a conclusion, though Milton is in his way. " Write to me — I dote on gossip — and make a bow to Ju— ,* and shake George by the hand for me ; but, take care, for he has a sad sea-paw. "P. S. I would ask George here, but I don't know how to amuse him — all my horses were sold when I left F.ng- land, and I have not had time to replace them. .Never- theless, if he will come down and shoot in September, be will be very welcome ; but he must bring a gun, for 1 gave away all mine to Ali Pacha, and other Turks. Dogs, a keeper, and plenty of game, with a very large manor, I have — a lal;e, a boat, house-room, and neat wi?us. n \ LETTER LXXXII. TO R. C. DALLAS, ESQ.. °Newstead Abbey, Sept. 4, 1811. "my dear sir, " I am at present anxious, as Cawthorn seems to wish it, to have a small edition of the "Hints from Horace" published immediately ; but the Latin (the most difficult poem in fhe language) renders it necessary fo be very particular not only in correcting the proofs with Horace open, but in adapting the parallel passages of the imita- tion in such places to the original as may enable the rea- der not to lose sight of the allusion. I don't know whe- ther I ought to ask you to do this, but I am too far off* to do it for myself; and if you can condescend to my school- boy erudition, you will oblige mc by setting this thing going, though you will smile at the importance I attach to it. " Believe me, ever yours, a Bvro.i ." LETTER LXXXIIL TO MR. MURRAY. "Newstcad Abbey, Notts, Sept. 5, 1811. "sir, "The time seems to be past when (as Dr. Johnson said) a man was certain to 'hear the truth from his bookseller, 1 for you have paid me so many compliments, that, if I was not the veriest scribbler on earth, I should feel affronted. As I accept your compliments, it is but fair I should give equal or greater credit to your objec- tions, the more so, as I believe them to be well founded. With regard to the political and metaphysical parts, I am afraid I can alter nothing; but I have high authority for my errors in that point, for even the jfcneid was a politi- co! poem, and written for a political purpose ; and as to my unlucky opinions on subjects of more importance, I am too sincere in them for recantation. On Spanish affairs I have said what 1 saw, and every day confirms me in that notion of the result formed on the spot; and I rather think bonest John Bull is beginning to come round again to that sobriety which MasBena'fe retreat had begun to reel from its centre — the usual consequence of unusual success. So you perceive I cannot alter the sentiments ; but if there are any alterations in the struc- ture of the versification you would wish to be made, I ' Julia Heftlb, George Byron'i lUur. LETTERS, ISM. 81 will tag rhymes and turn stanzas as much as yon please. As for the '■orthodox] let us hope they will buy, on pur- pose to abuse — you will forgive the one, if they will do the other. You are aware that any thing from my pen must expect no quarter, on many accounts; and as the present publication is of a nature very different from the former, we must not be sanguine. " You have given me no answer to my question — tell me fairly, did you show the MS. to some of your corps — I sent an introductory stanza to Mr. Dallas, to be for- warded to you ; the poem else will open too abruptly.* The stanzas bad better be numbered in Roman charac- ters. There is a disquisition on the literature of the modern Greeks, and some smaller poems, to come in at the close. These are now at Newstead, but will be sent in time. If Mr. D. has lost the stanza and note annexed to it, write, and I will send it myself. — You tell me to add two Cantos, but I am about to visit my collieries in Lan- cashire on the 15th inst. which is so unpoetical an em- ployment that I need say no more. I am, sir, " Your most obedient, &c." LETTER LXXXIV. TO MR. DALLAS. "Newstead Abbey,Sept. 7, 1811. ° As Giffbrd has been ever my ' Magnus Apollo,' any approbation, such as you mention, would, of course, be more welcome than 'all Bokara's vaunted gold, than alt the gems of Samarkand.' But I am sorry the MS. was shown to him in such a manner, and I had written to Murray to say as much, before I was aware that it was too late. " Your objection to the expression ' central line,' I can only meet by saying that, before Childe Harold left Eng- land, it was his full intention to traverse Persia, and re- turn by India, which he could not have done without passing the equinoctial. " The other errors you mention, I must correct in the progress through the press. I feel honoured by the wish of such men that the poem should be continued, but to do that, I must return to Greece and Asia ; I must have a warm sun and a blue sky ; I cannot describe scenes so dear to me by a sea-coal fire. I had projected an addi- tional Canto when I was in the Troad and Constantino- ple, and if I saw them again, it would go on ; but under existing circumstances and sensations, I have neither harp, ' heart, nor voice' to proceed. I feel that you are all right as to the metaphysical part ; but I also feel that I am sincere, and that if I am only to write, ' ad axptan- dum Luiew-*)' I nii^ht as well edit a magazine at once, or spin canzonettas for Vau.xhail. **** * * * * 1 My work must make its way as well as it can ; I know I have every thing against me, angry poets and prejudices ; but if the poem is a/>oem, it will surmount these obstacles, and if no(, it deserves its fate. Your friend's Ode I have read — it is no great compliment to pronounce it far superior to S * *'s on the same sub- ject, or to the merits of the new chancellor. It is evi- dently the production of a man of taste, and a poet, though I should not be willing to say it was fully equal to what might be expected from the author of ' Horce Ionica? I thank you fur it, and that is more than I would do for any other Ode of the present day. "I am very sensible of your good wishes, and, indeed, I have need of them. My whole life has been at vari- ance with propriety, not to say decency ; my circum- stances are become involved ; my friends are dead or estranged, and my existence a dreary void. In Mat- thews I have lost my ( guide, philosopher, and friend ;' 1 Tbe prewut icccud iuaa originally Uuod (ail. in Wingfield a friend only, but one whom I could have wished to have preceded in his long journey. u Matthews was indeed an extraordinary man ; it has not entered into the heart of a stranger to conceive such a man ; there was the stamp of immortalitv in all he said or did ; and now what is he? When we see such men pass away and be no more — men, who seem created to display what the Creator could make his creatures, ga- thered into corruption, before tbe maturity of minds that might have been the pride of posterity, what are we to conclude 1 For my own part I am bewildered. To me he was much, toHobhouse everv thing. — My poor Hob- house doted on Matthews. For me, I did not love qui! e so much as I honoured him ; I was indeed so sensible of his infinite superiority, that though I did not envy, I stood in awe of it. He, Hobhouse, Davics, and myself, formed a coterie of our own at Cambridge and elsewhere. Da- vies is a wit and man of the world, and feels as much as such a character can do ; but not as Hobhouse has been affected. Davies, who is not a scribbler, has always beaten us all in the war of words, and by his colloquial [towers at once delighted and kept us in order. H. and myself always had the worst of it with the other two ; and even M. yielded to the dashing vivacity of S. D. But I am talking to you of men, or boys, as if you cared about such beings. " I expect mine agent down on the I4lh to proceed to Lancashire, where, I hear from all quarters, that I have a very valuable property in coals, &c. I then intend to accept an invitation to Cambridge in October, and shall, perhaps, run up to town. I have four invitations — to Wales, Dorset, Cambridge, and Chester ; but I must bo a man of business. I am quite alone, as these long letters sadly testify. I perceive, by referring to your letter, that the Ode is from the author ; make my thanks acceptable to him. His muse is worthy a nobler theme. You will write, as usual, I hope. I wish you a good evening, a And am, &c.' LETTER LXXXV. TO R. C. DALLAS, ESQ. "Newstead Abbey, Sept. 10, 1811 " DEAR SIR, "I rather think in one of the opening stanzas of Childe Harold there is this line — " ' 'Tis said at limes the sullen (ear would start.' Now, a line or two after, I have a repetition of the epithet ' sullen reverie;' so (if it be so) let us have, 1 speechless reverie,' or l silent reverie ;' but, at all events, do away the recurrence. "Yours ever, ° B . "P. S. Perhaps, as 'reverie 1 implies silence of itselC wayward, downcast, gloomy, wrinkling, joyless, may be better epithets." LETTER LXXXVI. TO MR. MURRAV. "Newstead Abbey, Notts, Sept. 14, 1811 "sir, 'Since your former letter, Mr. Dallas informs me that the MS. has been submitted to ihe perusal of Mr. Gifford, most contrary to my wishes, as Mr. D. could have ex- plained, and as my own letter to you did, in fact, explain, wit.i my motives for objecting to such a proceeding. Some late domestic events, of which you are probably aware, prevented my letter from being sent before ; in- deed, I hardly conceived you would so hastily thrust my productions into the hands of a stranger, who could be an little pleased by receiving them, as their author is at their being olfered in such a manner, and to such a man. 32 LETTERS, 1611. "My address, when I leave Newstead, will he to Rochdale, Lancashire ;' but I have not yet Bind tin- day of departure, and I will apprize you when readv to set off. " You have placed me in a very ridiculous situation, but it is past, and nothing more is to be said on the subject. You hinted to me thai you wished s e alterations to be made ; if they have nothing to do with politics or religion, f will make them with great readiness. "1 am, sir, &c. &c." LETTER LXXXVII. TO R. C DALLAS, Esq. "Newstead Abbey.Sept. 15, 1811. " MV DEAR SIR, "Mv agent will not be here for at least a week, anil even afterwards my letters will be forwarded i" Roch- dale. I am sorry that Murray should yruan on my ac- count, though that is better than the anticipation of ap- plause, of which men and books are generally disap- pointed. "The notes I sent are merely matter to be divided, ar- ranged, and published for miles hereafter, in proper places; at present I am too much occupied v, ith earthly cares, to waste time or trouble upon rhyme, or its modern indispensables, annotations. " Pray let me hear from you, when at leisure. I have mitten to abuse Murray for showing the MS. to Mr. Gilford ; who must certainly think it was done by my wish, though you know the contrary. " Believe me, vours ever, «B ." LETTER LXXXVIII. TO R. C. DALLAS, ESQ.. "Newstead Abbey, Sept. 16, 1811. " DEAR SIR, a I send you a motto — * " ' L'univere eel uneee|*tce de lirre, tic.' If not too long, I think it will suit the book. The pas- sage is from a French volume, a great favourite with me, which I picked up in the Archipelago. I don't think it is well known in England. Moubron is the author, but it is a work sixty years old. Good morning. I won't Lake up your time. " Yours ever, "Uvkom." LETTER LXXXIX. TO MR. MURRAY. "Newstead Abbey, Sept. 16, 1811. * I return the proof, which I should wish to be shown to Mr. Dallas, who understands typographical arrange- ments much better than 1 can pretend to do. The printer may place the notes in his own way, or any way, so that they are out of my way ; I care nothing about types or margins. "If you have any communication to make, I shall be hero at least a week or ten days longer. " I am, sir, &c. &c." LETTER XC. TO MR. DALLAS. ■ Newstead Abbey, Sept. 17, 1811. ■ I can easily excuse your not writing, as you have, I hope, something better to do, and you must pardon my frequent invasions on your attention, because I have at this moment nothing to interpose betwe n you and my epistles. " I cannot settle to any thing, and my days pass, with the exception of bodily exercise tosome extent, with uni- form indolence, and idle insipidity. I have been ex- pecting, and still expect, mv agent, when I shall have enough to occupy my reflections in business of no very pleasant aspert. Before my journey to Rochdale, you shall have due notice where to address me — I believe at the postolnce of that township. From Murray 1 re- ceived a second proof of the same p.igcs, which I re- quested him to show you, thai any thing which may have escape,! my observation may !»■ deteeled helbre the prin- ter lavs the corner-stone of an errata column. " I rou now not quite alone, having an old acquaintance and schoolfellow with me, so oid, indeed, ih.it we have nothing nero to say on any subject, and yawn at each other in a sort of quiet inquietude. I bear nothing from Cawthorn, or Captain llohhouse, and their quarto — Lord have mercy on mankind! We come on like Cerberus with our triple publications. As f,r myself, by myself, I must be satisfied with a comparison to Janus. " I am not at all pleased with Murray for showing tho MS. ; and 1 am certain Gilford must see it in the am I light that I do. His praise is nothing to the purpose: what could he say? He could not spit in the face of one who had praised bun in every possible way. I must own that I wish to have the impression removed from bis mind, that I had any concern in such a paltry transac- tion. The more I think, the more it disquiets me; so t will say no more about it. It is bad enough to be a scribbler, without having recourse to such shifts to extort praise, or deprecate censure. It is anticipating it is begging, kneeling, adulating — the devil! the devil! the devil ! and all without my wish, and contrary to my ex- press desire. 1 wish Murray had been tied to Payne's neck when he jumped into the Paddington Canal, and so tell him, — that is tho proper receptacle for publishers. You have thoughts of settling in the country, why not try N»tts ? I think there are places which would suit vou in all points, and then you are nearer the metropolis. But of this anon. " I am yours, &c." 1 r'wr " L'lnldc H.uvkl." LETTER XCL TO R. c. DALLAS, ESQ.. " Newstead Abbey, Sept. 17, 1811. " DEAR SIR, 6 I have just discovered some pages of observations on the modern Greeks, written at Athens, by me, under the title of ' Noctes Attics. 1 They witf do to cut up into notes, and to be cut up afterwards, which is all that notes are generally good for. They were written at Athens, as you w ill see by the date. " Y'ours ever. " B * LETTER XC1I. TO MR. DALLAS. « Newstead Abbey, Sept. 21, 1811. « I have shown my respect for your suggestions by adopting them; but I have made many alterations in the first proof, over and above ; as, for example : <"0h ThOU, in IltUa* dcemM of heavenly birth, &C.&C.' " • Since, ttamtdfiM o/l by later lyra on earta, Mine, &C.' " ' Ycl there / 'ee wnncter'rf by the vaunted rifl ;» and so on. So I have got rid of Dr. Lowth, and ' drunk LETTERS, 1611 33 to boot, and very glad I am to say so. I have also sul- icniznj the line as heretofore, and in short have bo it quite conformable. *' Prav, wriie ; you sliall hear when I remove to Lanes. I have hrought you and mv friend Jtiveual Hodgson Upon tn y bark, on the score of revelation. You oo-e fi r\r.m be is quite slfit-i/i-g ; and if he takes half (he pains to save his own soul, which he volunteers to redeem mine, greal will be his reward hereafter. I honour and tliajak you both, but am convinced by neither. Now for notes. Besides those I have sent, I shall send the observations on the Edinburgh Reviewer's remarks on the modern Greek, an Albanian song iu the Albanian (riot Greek) lan- guage, specimens of modern Greek from their New Testament, a comedy of Goidoni's translated, eme scan , •.prospectus of A friend's book, and perhaps a song or two, nit in Romaic, besides their Pa>er Noster ; so there will be enough, it" not too much, with what I have already ■sent. Have you received ihe ' Nodes Attica? .'' I sent also an annotation on Portugal. Hobhouse is also foith- LETTER XCHf. TO MR. DALLAS. I have altered it as follows :■ « Newstead Abbey, Sept. 23, 1811. , m IJsboa is the Portuguese word, consequently ihe eery best. Ulissipont is pedantic ; and, as I have Hello* and E ros not long before, there would be something like an affectation of Greek terms, which I wish to avoid, since I shall have a perilous quanlitv of modern Greek in my notes, as specimens of the tongue; therefore Lisboa may keep its place. You are right about the ' Hints f they must not precede the 'Romaunt;' but Cawthorn will be savage if they don't; however, keep them back, and him in good humuur y if we can, but do not let him publish. " I have adopted, I believe, most of your suggestions, out ' Lisboa' will be an exception, to prove the rule. I have sent a quantity of Roles, and shall continue ; but pray let them be copied ; no devil can read my hand. By-t lie-by, I do not mean to exchange the ninth verse of the 'Good Nighl.* I have no reason to suppose my dog better than his brother brutes, mankind ; and Argv* we know to be a fable.* The ' Cosmopolite* was an ac- quisition abroad. I do not believe it is to be found in tncland. H is an amusing little volume, and full of French flippancy. I read, though I do not speak, the language. I wiU be angry with Murray. It was a bookselling, backshop, Paternoster-row, paltry proceeding, and if the experiment had turned out as it deserved. I would have raised aH Fleet-street, and borrowed the giant's staff from St. Dimstan's church, to immolate the betrayer of trust. I have written to him as he never was written to before bv an author, I Ml be sworn, and I hope vou will amplify my wrath, till it has an effect upon him. You tell ' me always yon have much to write about. Write it, | but let us drop metaphysics; — on that point we shall never agree. I am dull and drowsy, as usual. I do no- thing, and even (fiat nothing fatigues me. Adieu." 1 Full fvom iIm? tip nrt o'" joy's delicions apHnes Some titter o'er the fljwers its bubbfcng venom flings.* " If you will point out the stanzas on C intra which you wish recast, I will send you mine answer. Be good enough to address your letters here, and they will either be forwarded or saved till my return. My agent comes to-morrow, and we shall set out immediately. " The press must not proceed of course without my seeing the proofs, as I have much to do. Pray do you think any alterations should be made in the stanzas on Vaihis? I should be sorry to make any improper allusion, as I merely wish to adduce an example of wasted wealth, run! the reil^ninji which arose in survey- ing the most desolate mansion to the most beautiful spot I ever beheld. " Pray keep Cawthorn back; he was not to begin tiut Novemb'T, and even that will be two months too soon. I am so sorry my hand is unintelligible ; but I can neither deny J tur accusation, not remove the cause of it. — It is a sad scrawl, certes. — A perilous quantity of annotation hath been sent; I think almost enough, with the speci- men-; of Romaic 1 mean to annex. " I will have nothing to say to your metaphysics, and allegories of rocks and beaches; we shall all go to the bottom together, so ' let us eat and drink, for to-morrow, &.C* 1 am as comfortable in my creed as others, inas- much a^ it is better to sleep than to be awatoe. " I have heard nothing of Murray ; I hope he is ashamed of himself. He sent me a vastly complimentary epistle, with a request to alter the two, and finish another canto. I sent him as civil an answer as if I had been engaged lo translate by the sheet, declined altering any thing in sentiment, but offered to tag rhymes, and meni them as long as he liked. " I w ill write from Rochdale when I arrive, if my affairs allow me ; but I shall be so busy and savage all the time, with the whole set, that my letters will be as pettish as myself. If so, lay the blame on coal and coal-heavers. Very probably I may proceed to town by way of New- stead on my return from Lanes. I mean to be at Cam- bridge in November, so that at all events we shall be nearer. ( will not apologize for the trouble I have given, and do give you, though I ought to do so; but I have worn out my politest periods, and can only say that I am very much obliged to you. " Believe me, yours always, "Byron." LETTER XCIV. TO R. C DALLAS, ESq. " Newstead Abbey, Sept. 26, 181 1 . "my dear sir, ** In a stanza towards the end of canto first there is, in the concluding line, 'Some bitter bubWes up, and e'en oit roses 'ling- .' LETTER XCV. TO R. C. DALLAS, ESq. 11 Newstead Abbey. Oct. 10. 1811. " DEA8 FTR % (i Stanzas 24. 26, 29, though crossed, must stand with their attcTatinii.s. The other three are cut out to your wishes. * We must, however, have a repetition of the proof, which is the first. I will write soon. " Yours ever, *' B. u P. S. Yesterday I returned from Lanes." * Sec f *o»t2S3. 5 * The following are Hip fix st.inwis as they originally it -rod. Those ■ ■*, us >1, '2'\ i9, appeared in the poem, in nil filtered state. i im h . .| there at 21. -ii, 26, of ihe first canto. The stanzas marked l*low 2J, 27, and 2a, were tlmee omitted : XXIV. B>Wil ttir hull when ehiefi were Intc convened, i in, doom diapleutaj onto British eye! \\ til tp, lo I a fiend, A little (lend IM1 -■ Offl iiif:-- .inly, Tlirrr sit* n> j M i< In '•■ ftd, and by 'i .-.i. ii hungaacal and mM« ■ \1 !.■ i. ' ... ..■ I ■ > inine ■|.ell Welles ley ; Ami sundry ■tVTis.turxtadoni itv ■ WhertSftt iu Uftiaia poinU and l.i ..-Ii. *ilh all LU wul. 34 I.KTTEUS, 1611. LETTER XCVI. TO MR. DALLAS. "Ncwstead Abbey, Oct. 11, 1811. u l have returned from Lanes, ami ascertained that my properly there may bo made very valuable, but vari- ous circumstances very much circumscribe my exertions at present. I shall be in town on business in the begin- ning of November, and perhaps at Cambridge before the end of this mouth ; but of my movements you shall be xxv. In golden e haracters, right well designed, First on tbe lisi apneareUi one " Juuot " Then certain other glorious name* we find ! (Which rhyme compel le I h nie lo place below ;) Dull victors 1 baffled hya vanquished foe, Wheedled by couyuge tongues of laurels due, Bund, worthy of each other, in ■■ row Sin Arthur, Harry, end the ilixiard Hew Dulryinple, seely wight, sure dupe ul lollicr lew. XXVI. Convention i* die dwnrfy demon Thai foiled the knights in Marituve's dome: Of brains id brmini they had] be Litem beguiled, And turned a nil i shallow Joy in gloom. For well I wot, when first the nowe did come, Thai Vimiera'e Held by Gaul was lost ; For i- ii . ■ ■- r-.t , ■■ ■ »e paper scarce had room, Such uiens teemed lor our tri phaut host. In Courier, Chronicle, auJ ike in Morning Post. XXVII. But wheo Convention sent his handy work, Pens, tongues, feet, baud., cuiubined in wild uproar ; Mayor, aldermen, laid down IV uplifted fork ; The bench of Bishops hilt forgot to snore : Stern Cobbett, who for uio> whole week forbore To question aught, once more with transport leapt, And hit his dev'lisli quill agon, Bl ■ : With foe such treaty never should be kept. Then buret the blatant* beeel, and roared eud raged, and — slept! ! XXVIII. Thue unto hcavi'ii appealed tbe people ; hesveoj \\ iniii loves the lieges ol oni gi ..■ lo Decreed thai ere our general! Were forgivi n, Inquiry should be held abuut the thing. But mercy cloiked the babes benealh her « tog ; And as i hey spared our foe* eoepared we then. (Where wu the. pity of our tiretfoi Byng?)1 Yet knaves, not idiole, ehoutd the law eondetno. Then live ye, gallant knights ! and bleaa your Judges' phlegm. KX1X. But ever since that martial synod met, Britanole sickens, ' lintra I ai thy name ; Aad folks In office at die m* sweat. And lain w.mld blush, if blush they could, for shame. Bow will posterity the deed pre, Linn ! Will not owe end fellow natlooe super, T" view the si; i h,iiii| , i h. ,He.t of I heir l.illie By foes in fight o'ertlirown, yet victors here, Where scorn her finger points through many acomin™ year? Originally, the "little page," and "yeoman," of ' hilde Harohi Canto 1. were introduced in the following siuiiias, » hull were aAe! a ardd erased : And of bis train there was a henchman page A peasant boy, who servud liismaeter well ; Ami often would 'us pre n kiome prate engage ChUde Brmin'eear when his j I heart did swell \\ lib sullen thoughts thai hedlsdnln'd la lell Then would he emlle on him, and \lwinl smiled, When aught that from bis v i» li|is archly fell The gloomy film from Harold's eye beguiled. Him end one yeoman only did he take To travel eastward lo n mi oiuiirie ; And 1 1 gh the i'"v wai grieved ui leave the lake, Oil whose bur banki he grow from infant y, Eneoons Us little heart beat merrily. \\ itb ln.pi ul" ii.i ml.'ii ii. ii i - ■ r i. - n> behold, And man] things rigl relloustosee, Of which our vaunting travellers oft have told, From Maodeville • This stanza was also omitted : Ye, who would more of Spain and Spa n [arils know, SighiH, saints, antiques, ails, anecdotes, and war, Go, hie ye hence 10 Pal* !■ r row, — Are they not written m ihe boke ol Can ? Green ertn's Knight and Europe's wandering star | Then listen, readers, to 'be Mm, ol Ink, Hear what he did, and sought, ind wrote elar, All ihttM are COOp'd within one niuarto'e brink, This borrow, steal, (don't buy,) and tell ul what you think. • " Blatant beast," a figure for the mnh ; 1 think first used by Smollel •n his Adventures of on Atom. Horace has the " Belli) mullorum c t ," In England, fortunate enough, Hie illustrious mobility have t Dy this query It is not meant that our foolish generali should have been shut, ton that Byng might heve been Syeml . though the one swflei ed and ib>- others escaped, probably for Candide's rea-ou, " pour «tu:ou- Tager Its autr-t." 1 In the JHS the names " PoMu " and " Rupert " had been NCCC* lively inserted here and scratched ou: ag*iu. regularly apprizi d. Yourobjectjons I have in par* dune away by alterations, which I liope will suffice; and I lave sent two or three additional stanzas for both Fyttcs? I have been a^ain shocked with a death, and haw lost one very dear to me in happier times ; but ' I have almost forgot the taste of grief,' and 'supped full of horrors 1 till 1 have become callous, nor have I a tear left for an event which five years ago would have bowed down mv head to the earth. It seems as though 1 wero to experience in my youth the greatest misery of age. My friends fill around me, and I shall be left a lonely The second paragraph in Die preface waa originally thus: "It has been suggested to me by friends, on whose opinions I eel • high value, that in the fictitious character of ' Uuilde Harold," I may m- _.,.,,,, i i. .iv,u ■ drawn 'from myself.' Thl 1 beg leave once I r all to disclaim i a anted a character to give some connexions to the poem, ine adopted suited my purpose is wall ai any ■ ■■ some very trivial particulars, and those might i.e grounda for such an idea ; but in the main points, l should hope none Lhat win ii die author speaks in Ins own person, he a,-*1 it m ihe texl." The note to Canto I.slonta2I, was in the manuscript as follows: " In Mir year 1809, It la ■ well-known fact, that the awawii nations in the streets ul l.lsbrtn and its vicinity, were not Confined by the ■'■"'• guese to their countrymen ; but Knglishmen were daily hulchi su lai from the am vivors obtaining redi ■ d ' nol 'o fere it they perceived their compatriot defending himsell sgi • amiable allies. I wns once slopped in the way lolhe theaire, at eight Ui Ql evening, win n the itrei ts were not more empty i ■ ire, opposite W iu "/'?" tftop, and in a carriage with a friend, by three ,,i ,,,,,,..,■■,.,.,.■ ; ,u , i had we nol fortunately been armed, I bnve nul lbs lea-i d milt we ihould b.ive * adorned a tale, 1 instead of telling It. We have heard v lei ol thi P mesa lately, and their ealTantry,— ,n .iv li.-. i'. eu H ' oni i; yet ' wo me h were well I 1 Thej must light a great many hours 'by Shrewsbury clock,' before tbe number of their slain equals that of our countrymen butchered bj those kind creatures, now melemorpboaed into l Caoa« dores,' and whai not, I merely state a fncl nol confined to Portugal, i.T in Sicily and Malta we are knocked on the head at a handsome a ve i .,_.,. nigh i Ij . and uoi a Su ilion or Maltese is ever punished ' 'l be necli'fi ul | in 1 1 'i i- il.-iL'r;ircful lo our government and governors, for n rders are bb notorious as the moon that shines upon tbein,Utd Hie npathy thai overlooks them. The Portuguese, il is t" be hoped, are complimented with the Forlorn Hope.' If the cowardi an brnve. (like thi ■• It ol tbeil kind, in a cm ner, ) pray lei them di |!„l there il i - thi >e ' ■'■ .."-i »»J ,,■/ ithcy nei ' in ihe Npifiarn.) and all the tha- i .uvmii'ks, do .miai s 1 in dilRdinl /.. nnd U. 1*. UJ. iVmii ' .in .uloin e' ■ ■ :■ 'i l"i ihe li-i- ■■■ ■ i it,- li.m ■ I l!i n.-ii brncvol^iice. Well, we have fought nnd sttb- scribed, mid bestowed pccr.iges, end huned the kil mill |,., , ; nnd lo! nil this is to be dune over again I Like ' TotfD| The. 1 (In Goldsmith's t.'i'lsen of the World,! as we ' grow older, we grow in '.■•■< ihe l idler.' It would be pleasant to learn wh<* will mb> ecribe for iw.inor shout the year 1825, and what na will send filly thousand men. first to be d. cimated in the capil J, and then il again (In the Irish fashion nine out uf ten) in the '.id ol honour, which, as Serjeant Kite says, is i onsidrrably larger nnd more <• nodioui than tha ■ | M .i ..| \\ .ire.' 'lii ei i they uinvi have a poet to write thi i g« juily beaiow the uroiits o( the well nnd of III n idi Ij i led qua I ud ml ihe ' r the hull-masted Higlil leea. l.or.1 W i g> tun however, has enacted relv; and so did his oriental whom i law chori neerinj nvci the French flag, met heard dipping bad) Spanish, eflei lie lo I r of i ndTx, ou I ! i na f into that city nnd ihe nit of some live thou* imikI bold B tie "in oi tin* * best of all possible worlds.' Sort ly arere we pusded how to dispose ol thai same victory ol Talavei > ..!.,,, for every body claimed it, The ^i>a- ■ 1 1 it n ue*fut, nnd made no great mi the Viscount ; tbe French calledi- inei**, (Iu ro* great discomfiture, for a French consul stopped mj lh in Greece with « c etlleut ' »ria(ta« /., ii- -, ;n i ai I bud killed Sebastians ' is buckram,' nnd King .1 nh la Kendal green,', 1 nnd we have yet determined ■ cerles it was no t -own. Howbeil, Massena ' fort and as we have not been iu the ha il ,,,,-., ,i . | er we are a little awkwatd nt first. ^>o doubl we sball Improve. 01 it not, we bnve nnly to lake to our old way of m- ■ I. ni homo." Thl following uote lo < anto II. stauza 3, was in the original tninu- Id ipt . Dill omitted in the publication : " In this age nl be:.. irv. when the puritan nnd priest have ebengeg place*, and tbe wreti hedcatholli is visited with the ' smaol hisfiilban, w o generations far beyond the pale of th it, the cast ol 0] ■ n in these etanr-aswilldoubtlesa meet with manyn contemptuous anathema. But let it be remembered, that the spirit they i deal ling, not sneering, aheptlcism ; that he who ha- seen li urn I Mi. I. in <.M|. former, hr mnv rrsv how. when, and where hepiease* ; and ihe mdd tenets and devout deme-iwui of jlie Uiler, make their ii ■ e. the truest comaieuiary on the Senuou en tha Mount. LETTERS, 1811. 35 tree before I am withered. Other men can always lake refuge m their families ; I have no resource but my own reflections, ami they present no prospect here or here- after, except the selfish satisfaction of surviving my bet- ters. 1 am indeed very wretched, and you will excuse my living so, as you know I am not apt to cant of sen- sibility. " Instead of tiring yourself with my concerns, I should be glad to hear your plans of rc'irement. I suppose you would not like to be wholly shut out of society ' Now I know a large village or small town, about twelve miles oflj where your family would have the advantage af verv genteel society, without the hazard of being an- ooyed by mercantile affluence; where you would meet with men of information and independence ; and where I have friends to whom I should be proud to introduce yon. There are besides, a coffee-room, assemblies, &c. &c. which bring people together. jVlv mother had a house there some years, and I am well acquainted with the economy of Sourhwell, the name of this little com- monwealth. Lastly, you will not be very remote from me; and though I am the verv worst companion for young people in the world, this objection would not apply to you, whom I could see frequently. Your ex- penses too would be such as best suit your inclination?, more or less, as you thought proper ; but very little would be requisite to enable you to enter into all the gayeties of a country life. You could be as quiet or bustling as you liked, and certainly as well situated as on the lakes of Cumberland, unless you have a particular ivish to be picturesque. "Pray, is your Ionian friend in town ? You have promised me an intr oJuciion. — You mention having con- sulted some friends on the MSS. — Is not this contrary to our usual way? Instruct Mr. Murray not to allow his shopman to caJIthe work 'Child of Harrow's Pilgri- mage !!!!!' as he has uone to some of my astonished friends, who wrote to inquire after my sanity on the oc- casion, as well they mi^ht. I have heard nothing of Murray, whom I scolded hearlilv. — Must I write more notes? — Are there not enough ? — Cawihorn must be kept back with the 'Hints.' — 1 hone he is getting on with Hobhouse's quarto. Good evening. " Yours ever, &c." LETTER XCVIL TO MR. H0DGSOX. ■Newstead Abbey, Oct. 13, 1811. a You will begin to deem me a most liberal corre- spondent ; but as my letters are free, you will overlook their frequency. I have sent you answers in prose and verse to all your late communications, and though I am invading your ease a^ain, I dun't know why, or what to put down that you are not acquainted with already. I am growing nervous (how you will laugh!) — but it is true, — really, wretchedly, ridiculously, hne-ladically ner- vous. Your climate kills me ; I can neither read, write, n'jr amuse myself, or any one else. My days are list- less and my nights restless; I have very seldom any society, and when I have, I run out of it. At 'this pre- sent writing, 1 there are in the next room three ladies, and I have stolen away to write this grumbling letter. — I don't know that I sha'n't end with insanity, fir I find a want of method in arranging my thoughts that perplexes me strangely ; but this looks more like silliness than madness, as Scrope Dunes would facetiously remark in his consoling manner. I must try the hartshorn of your company; and a session of Parliament would suit me well, — any thing to cure me of conjugating the accursed verb ' ennuyer' "When shall you be at Cambridge? You have anted, I uniik, that your friend lilaiid is returned from Holland. I have always had a great respect for his talents, and for all that I have heard of his character ; but of me, I believe, he knows nothing, except that he beard my sixth-form repetitions ten months together, at the average of two lines a morning, and those never per- fect. I remembered him and his ' Slaves' as I passed between Capes Matapan, St. Angelo, and his Isle of Ceriga, and I always bewailed the absence of the An- thology. 1 suppose he will now translate Vondel, the Dutch Shakspeare, and ' Gysbert van Amstef will easily be accommodated to our stage in its present state ; and I presume he saw the Dutch poem, where the love of Pyramus and Thisbe is compared to the passion of Cluist; also the love of Lucifer for Eve, and other va- rieties of Low Country literature. No doubt you will think me crazed to talk of such things, but they are all in black and while and good repu'.e on the banks of every canal from Amsterdam to Alkmaar. " Yours ever, " B. " P. S. My Poesy is in the hands of its various pub- shers; but the 'Hints from Horace,' (to which I have subjoined some savage lines on Methodism, and fero- cious notes on the vanity of the triple Editory of the Edin. Annual Register,) my ' Hints' I say, stand still , and why? — I have not a friend in the world (but you and Diury) who can construe Horace's Latin, or my English, well enough to adjust them for the press, or to correct the proofs in a grammatical way. So that, unless you have bowels when you return to town, (I am too far off* to do it for myself,) this ineffable work will be lost to the world for — I don't know how many weeks. " ' Childe Harold's Pilgrimage' must wait till Murray's is finished. He is making a tour in Middlesex, and is to return soon, when high matter may be expected. He wants to have il in quarto, which is a cursed unsaleable size ; but it is pestilent long, and one must obey one's bookseller. I trust Murray will pass the Paddington Canal without being seduced by Payne and Mackinlay's example, — I say Payne and Mackintay, supposing that the partnership held good. Drury, the vfllain, has not written to me ; ' I am never (as Mrs. Lumpkin says to Tonv) to be gratified with the monster's dear wild notes.' "So you are going (going indeed!) into orders. You must make your peace with the Eclectic Reviewers— they accuse you of impiety, 1 fear, with injustice. De- metrius, the 'Sieger of Cities,' is here, with 'Gilpin Homer.' The painter is not necessary, as the portraits he already painted are (by anticipation) very like th« new animals. — Write, and send me your ' Love Song'— but I want ' paulo majora' from you. Make a dash be fore you are a deacon, and try a dry publisher. " Yours always, 8 B." LETTER XCVI1I. TO R. C. DALLAS, ESQ. "October 14, 1811 "dear sir, u Stanza 9, for Canto II. somewhat altered, to avoid i recurrence in a former stanza. STANZA IX. ■ There, thou !— whose lore and life together fled. Have left me here lo love and live in vnin : — Twined with my heart, and can 1 deem thee dead. When busy memory Antilles o'er my hroin? Well— I will dream that we may meet ignin, And woo the vision 10 my vacant breaal : If aught of youog remembrance then remain. Be as it may Whaie'er beside Futurily'a behest ; or, — Ilowe'er may be for me 'LVfln bUi« enough to tea thy •jjirit bletli' 30 LK.TTEHS, ISIt. "I think it proper to state to you, thai this stanza alludes to an event which has taken place sin, m) arrival here, and not to the death ..f any mtsV friend. "Yours, "B." LETTEB XC1X. TO H. C. DALLAS, EST). " Newstead Abbey, Oct. 16, 1811. ■lames the wing for Cambridge-. Thence, after o short stav, to London. \\ .1. you be g I enough to keep an account of all the MSS. you receive, Br rears! omission ? Have ywi adopted the thr. . altered stanzas of the late*! proof? 1 candonothing more with them.— I am glad you like the new ones.— < If the last, and ofthe tno, I sent you a new-edition — to-day a/re*, n * Thi hues of the second sh.el I fear must stand ; I will give you reasons when we meet. * Believe me, votirs ever, "•Bvitos.* In a stanza LETTER C. TO R. C. DALLAS, ESQ. 'Cambridge, Oct. 25,1811. 'dear sir, "I send you a conclusion to the whole. towards the end of Canto Lin the hue, ' Oh,known the curliest ami beloved the most,' I shall alter the epithet to ' esteemed the most.' The present stanzas are (or the end of Canto II. In the be- rinning ofthe week 1 shall be al No. B, my old lodgings, in St. Jamesrs-street, where I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you. "Yours en r, "B." enmelicoi* which some years ajo I consigned to Ma* * * * *, indeed gave to her, and now I am noing to make the most selfish and rude of requests. The person who L-ave tt U> nte, when I was very young, is dead, and though a long time has step* d an e we met, as it M the orrlv memorial I possessed of that person, (in whom I was vet) much interested,) il has acquired a value by tins .-vent i could have wished H 11' vcr to have borne m my eyes. V, iherefoie, Miss * + * * should have pre- served it, 1 must, under these circomstare. s, beg hei "' excuse my requesting it to be transmuted to me al S o. 8,St Jarm-Vs-sired, Loiiil.nr, andt } will replace il bj sorrx-tlnny she may remember me hy equally well. A i she was always so kind a< to ■ • I nti n sted m the fiil'-- of him thai rbrmed the subject ..four conversation, you ma) "Il her ihat the prorofthnl cornelian died in fti»» last of a, i, at the age of twenty-one, making the sBlh,wi hifl >mr months, of friends and relatives that I have lost — between May and the end of August. "Believe in.-, dear Madam, ■ Vom * very BBlCSrely, "l>YU.oN. P. S. I "O to London to-morrow.* LETTER CI. TO R. C DALLAS, ESO.. "S^St.-Iaiiies's-strec^Oct. 31, IS11. "dear sir, "I have already taken up so nutch of your time that there needs ii" excuse on your pari, but a gresl many on i i, for the present interruption. I have altered the messages according to your wish. With this note I ■i ,,.! i few stanzas on a subject which has Intel) that. As to the ' Monastic dome,' is'-, i though! those circumstances would sun him as well as any other, and I could de- j.-nhe what I had seen heller than I could invent. I would not be Mich a fellow- as 1 have mode my h ro Cor Uie world. "Yours ever, *B. ! LETTER Cllt. MR. MOORE TO LORD BVRCCT. "Dublin, January 1, 18IG*. K KV LORD, "Having jus! seen the name of 'Lord Byron' pre- fixed to a work, entitled 'English Bards and Scotch Reviewers,' in which, as it appears lo on-, 'Ac fir to a public statement of mine, respecting an atfair witfi Mr. Jeffrey some years since, I beg you will have the goodness to inform me whether I may consider yout lordship as the author of this publication. " I shall not, I fear, h. able to return to London for a week or two ; but, in the mean time. I trust your lord- .hip will not deny me the satisfaction ofknowing whethe. you avow the insult contained in the passages alluded to " It is needless to suggest to your lordship the pro priety of keeping our correspondence secret. " I have the honour to be, " Your lordship's very humble servant, "Thomas Moore. "■22, Molesworth-street." LETTER CIV. TO .MR. -WOOICE. "Cambridge, Oct. S7, 1' II. "sill, " Tour letter followed mc from Notts, to this place which will account for the delay of my reply. Yom LETTER CIL TO MISS PIOOT. "Cambridge, Oct. 28, 1811. "dear biadam, " 1 am about to write to you on a silly subject, and yet I cannot well do otherwise You may remember a ■ Mr. EdieaiCHi. Su« llic- Latter following. • See Leller n. I Tlic ■' ^ : '' " in I lou, with ft renueat Ihut lie wotdd ikthvri il in i«-.s m, Inn . .1 ... ,n, . I I Hyi htpnrli n \1. M '....'i I il the htuala ol Mr. Ilottevnn, wllo I,,!,.,. I WtOttil I , It rave rue, mypKi' ' "" t ■' ^,l "ymu'v "turn In Kiiglantl ,: • i 111 lo ' i"L- '" In ■ loemer letter, , ,. r„ i inn! resl « in lararty lite f.int I tv red In I 'I), r question wi«. calculated 10 convey. " li iinow kee," he .-..uiin.iril. - to a 'r.tk ot tin- -i.,s wuli which it win mj il . ,,, il..u letter. The lime which Inn el i|»etl »it» I then, ihcttrh il I lone ,.u..y neilht i il ."' " mn-lhi • tin ,1 ••. in main revjiecle, n ,1 Imj tin ion n- only .<'....' which I have now in wr e to ,,,., |„,l ., . |„,..rv. Mine etmaieteiMy with that former lel'e., , I to pi you thai the n.juretl I. rime Hill eaiela, In. were, circum. ■lance* rrnT compel me ' ' ureeciil, vtli.til mr •fniiircri feetuia kit i iur« ] - lordvhip that there i. * .i, ,,-!,, vfnrhclive I leolinmy n I toward* you. 1 meau but to ex. .,,,,. thut unenftillru liudfti ■ '■ ' lev 10 be) ft charge of Inln. li.H.d which nni.t haual » man -I any f--elm2 to in, eraet tinh .. ii.e in.olt he rettftClod or atoned for ; ami which, il I .l"l t»l leel I .I.Oidd, Incfeed, doaerve fat »c#ae Ibft" yattrU.Btahi|>'»Sniire co.*l loS.ct .,,«, -lu.nmhe added,' thai -otarl, „ ,n. mil -.rw anErvnrrv«r,ii.il u-.n.." lowarvtl Win, II would eivr him altrCere pleev .,,'. |f by nny .Hoi... lory eapta n, he would enable him to rnsrS , (|C i,,„, i in, i :,.,,..' rftnfcerl amnne hie ■ rqw ftl n Ua TaT e V TO Una letter, LutvJ Uyi Ul i.lorued the above NoMiar, LETTERS, nil. 37 former letter I never had 'he honour in receive ; — be as- Burcd, in whatever-port of the world it had found me, I should have deemed n my duty 10 return and answer it in person, " The advertisement von mention, T know nothing of. — At the time of your meeting with -Mr. Jeffrey, I had rei i n !v entered College, and remember to have heard ami read a number of squibs on the occasion, and from the recollection of these I derived all my knowledge on the subject, without die slightest idea of fgiving 'he lie' to an address which I never beheld. When [ put my name to the production which has occasioned this cor- respondence, 1 became responsible to all whom it might concern, — to explain where it requires explanation, and where insufficiently or too sufficiently explicit, at all ;vems to satisfy. My situation leaves me no choice ii rests with the injured and the angry to obtain repara Don iti their own way. "With regard to the passage in question, j/ou were ceriainlv not the person towards whom I felt personally hostile. On the contrary, my whole thoughts were en- grossed by one whom I had reason to consider as my ami ' literary enemy, nor could I foresee that his former antagonist was about to become his champion. You do not specify what you would wish ti> have done : I can neither retract nor apologize for a charge of falsehood which I never advanced. " In the beginning of the week, I shall be at No. 8, St James's-strcet. — Neither the letter nor the friend to whom you stated your intention ever made their ap- pearance. "Your friend, Mr. Rogers, or any other gentleman delegated by von, will find me mo«t ready to adopt any conciliatory proposition which shall not compromise my own honour, — or, falling in that, to make the atonement vou deem it necessary to require. "1 have the honour to be, sir, B Your most obedient, humble servant, tt BvRO.N." LETTER I'V. TO MR. MOORE. "8, St. James's-street, Oct. 29, 1811. "sir, "Soon after mv return to England, my friend, Mr. l„odgson, apprized me that a letter for me was in his possession; but a domestic event hurrying me from London immediately after, the letter (which may most probably be your own) is still unopened in Ida keeping. If, on examination of the address, the similarity of the handw riling should lead to such a conclusion, it shall be opened in your presence, for the satisfaction of all parties. Mr. H. is at present out of town : — on Friday I shall see liuii. and request him to forward it to my address. " With regard to the latier part of both your letters, un'il the principal point was discussed between us,l felt myself at a loss in what manner to reply. Was I to an- ticipate friendship from one, who conceived me to liave charged him with falsehood? Were not advances under such circumstances, to be misconstrued, — not, perhaps, by the person to whom they were addressed, but by others? In my case, such a step was impracti- cable. If you, who conceived yourself to be the offended person, are satisfied that you had no cause for offence, it will not be dirhcult to convince me of it. My situation, as I have before stated, leaves me no choice. I should have felt proud of your acquaintance, had it commenced under other circumstances ; but it must rest with you to determine how far it may proceed after so auspicious a beginning. k I have the honour to be. Sec." LETTER CVI. TO MR. MOORE. "8, St. Jamess-streeljOct. 30, 1811. "sir, "Vou must excuse my troubling you once more upon this very unpleasant subject. It would be a satisfaction to me, and I should think, to yourself, that the unoi encd letter in Mr. Hodgson's possession, (supposing it to prove your own,) should be returned ' in statu quo 1 To the writer, particularly as you expressed yourself l no' quite easy under the manner in winch I had dwelt on us miscarriage. 1 "A few words more, and I shall not trouble you further. I felt, and still feel, very much flattered by those parts of your correspondence, which held out the prospect of our becoming acquainted. If I did not meet them in the first instance as perhaps I ought, let the situation in which I was placed be my defence. You have now declared yourself satisfied, and on that point we are no longer at issue. If, therefore, you still retain any wish to do me the honour you hinted at, I shall be most happy to meet you, when, where, and how you please, and I presume you will not attribute my saying thus much to any unworthy motive. "1 have the honour to remain, &c." LETTER CVII. TO MR. MOORE. ■ 8, St. James's-street, Nov 1,1811. 'SIR, "As I should be very sorry to interrupt your Sunday's engagement, if Monday, or anv other day of the ensuing week, would be equally convenient to yourself and friend, I will then have the honour of accepting his invitation. Of the professions of esteem with which Mr. Rogers has honoured me, I cannot but feel proud, though undeserv- ing. I should be wanting to myself if insensible to the praise of such a man: and should mv approaching in- terview with him and his friend lead to any degree of intimacy with both or either, I shall regard our past cor- respondence as one of the happiest events of my life. " I have the honour to he, "Your very sincere and obedient servant, "Byron.* LETTER CVIIJ. TO MR. HARNESS. "8, St. James's-street, Dec. 6, 1811. "my dear HAPNESS, " I will write again, but don't suppose I mean to la\ such a tax on your pen and patience as to expect regular replies. When you are inclined, write ; when silent, I stiall have the consolation of knowing that you are much better employed. Yesterday, Bland and I called or. Mr. Miller, who being then out, will call on Bland to- day or to-morrow. I shall certainly endeavour to bring them together. — You are censorious, child ; when you are a little older, you will learn to dislike every body, but abuse nobody. k With regard to the person of whom you speak, your own good sense must direct you. I never pretend to advise, being an implicit believer in the old proverb. This present frost is detestable. It is the first I have felt these three years, though I longed for one in the oriental summer, when no such thing is to be had, unless I had gone to the top ofHymettus for it. 6 1 thank you most truly for the concluding part of your letter. I have been of late not much accustomed tu kindness from any quarter, and 1 am not the less 33 LETTERS, 1811. pleased lo meet with it again from one, where I had known it earliest. I have not changed in all mj ram- bungs, — Ilorrow and, of course, yourself never left me, and the * Dulcea rcminlacltur Argi?' attended me to the very spot to which that sentence al- leles in the mind of the fallen Argive. — Our intimacy began before we be^an to date at all, and it rests with yon to continue it til! the hour Which must number il and Die with the things that were. "0o read mathematics, — I should think X plus y at least as amusing as the Curse of Kehama, and much more intelligible. Master s.'s poems ore, m fact, what parallel lines might be — viz. prolonged ad infinitum without meeting any thing half so absurd as themselves. ' What news, whnt new* ? C^tieen Oreaca, Whal newi <-i ici Ibblera five? S , W , C e, L— nol the least. Ponder on my proposition, and believe me, my dear Moore, "Yours ever, u Bl uos." LETTER CXIV. TO MR. MOORE. "January 29, 1812. "MV DKAR MOORE, ■ 1 wish very much I could have seen you ; I am in a State of ludicrous tribulation. + >** * * * * " Why do you say that I dislike your poesy? I have expressed no such opinion, either in print or elsewhere. In scribbling, myself, it was necessary tor me to I'm. I fault, and 1 fixed upon the trite charge of immorality, I- can I could discover no other, and was so perfectly qualified, in the innocence of my heart, to ' pluck that mote from my neighbour's eye. 1 "I feel very, very much obliged by your approbation ; but) at this moment^ praise, even your praise, passes by me like ' the idle wind.' I meant and mean to send you a copy the moment of publication'; hut now, I can think of nothing but damned, deceitful, — delightful woman, us Mr. Listonsays in the Knight of .Snow, Ion. "Believe me, my dear Moore, "ever vours, most affectionately, "BvRO.X. the langua .-■ you ns< J ". the -ir! was (a< she stated ;t) i roper. "You say thai you also have something to complain of; ih. -n stale it to me immediately; il would be very unfair, and very contrary to my disposition, not to hear both -a lea of the question. H If any thing has pa - d between you bqfbnot since my last visit to New I* b I- ■ I be afraid to mention i f . I am sure i/"" would n * '!■ ■ !■ ■ mi-, th xi ;h ahs would. Whatevei it is. you shall hi forgiven. 1 have not been without some suspicions on the subjei r, and am certana that, at your time of lit' 1 , the blame could hot attach to you. Von will not consult any one as to youi answer, but write to me immediately. 1 shall he more ready to hear what you hav< to adi in< e,afl I do nor remembet .\er lo have heard a word from you before agOBMt any human being, which convinces me you would m uslj assert an untruth. There is not anj onewno can do the least 1 injury to you while you conduct yourself properlj . 1 shall expect yi ur answi r immediately. "Your- & MJwu.n" LETTER CXVII. TO MR. HODGSON. fl 8, St. James's-strcet, Feb. 16, 1812. " PEAR HODGSON, "I send you a proof. Last week I was very ill and confined to bed with sione in the kidney, but 1 am now quite recovered. If the stone had got into my heart in- stead of my kidneys, it would have been all the better. The women are gone to their relatives, after many at- i,,ii|ii- hi r \|)|;!in what was already too clear. How ever, quite recovered that also, and only wonder at my (bill In excepting my own strumpets from the : corruption, — albeit, a two months 1 weakness .s better than i'ii years. I have om n quesl to make, which is, never mention a woman again m any letter to me, or even allude to the existence of the sex. I won't even read a word of the feminine gender; it must all be 1 propria qua 1 maribus.' u In the spring of 1813 I shall leave England for ever. Every thing in my affairs tends to tins, and my inclina- tions and health do not discourage it. Neither my habits nor constitution are improved by your customs or our climate. I shall find employment in making myself a good oriental scholar. I shall retain a mansion in one of the fairest islands, and retrace, at intervals, the most interesting portions of the East. In the meantime,! am adjusting my concerns, which will (when arranged) leaveme with wealth— sufficienl even for home, but enough for a principality in Turkey, At preseni they are in- volved, but I hope, by taking s e necessary but un- pleasant steps, to char every thing. Ilohlnmse is ex- pected daily ui London; we shall be Very glad to sec him; and, perhaps, you will come up and 'drink deep ere he depart, 1 if not, ' Qdabomel must go io the mount , 'a i n ; hui t lambridge will bring sad recollections lo him, and worse to me, though for very different reasons. I believe the only human being that evei loved me in truth and entirely was of] or belonging to, < 'ambridgn, and, in that, no change can now take place. There is one , ,.u- solation in death — where he sets his seal, the impression can neither be melted or broken, But endureth for ever, u Yours always, " B." LETTER CXV. TO ROBERT Rt'SHTON. " 8, St. Jame^s-street, Jan. 21, 1812. * Though I have no objection to your refusal to carry letters to Mealey's, you will take care thai the letters are taken by Spero at the proper tune. 1 have also to ob- serve, that Susan [a servant in the family] is to be treated with civility, and not insulted by .\ny person over whom I have the smallest control, or, indeed, by any one whatever, while I have the power to protect her. I am truly sorry to have any subject of complaint against you ; 1 have too good an opinion of you to think I shall have occasion to repeat it, after the care I have taken of you, and my favourable intentions in your behalf. I see no ■ I i r hui for any communication whatever between you and the women, and wish you to occupy yourself in pre- paring for the situation in which you will be placed. If a common sense of decency cannot prevent you from Conducting yourself towards them with rudeness, 1 should at least hope that your own i«t>rcst y and regard for a master who has never treated you with Unkindm have some weight * Vours, &c. ■ Byron. "P. S. — I wish you to attend to your arithmetic, to occupy yourself in surveying, measuring and making yourself acquainted with every particular relative to the laiul uf Newstead, and you will write to me one Utter every week, that I may know how you go on, LETTER CXVIIL LETTER CXVX. to master john cowell. to Robert rushton. « 8, St. Jamess-street, Feb. 12, 1812. "8, St. James's-strcet, Jan. 25, 1812. " my DEAB John, * Your refusal to curry the letter was not a subject of " You have probably long ago forgotten the writer ..f remonstrance ; it was not a part of your business ; but [ these Lines, who would, perhaps, be unablo to recognise LETTERS, 1*13. 4k f»tu wit, ^ rnm *«« difference which must naturally have taktn place in your stature and appearance since he saw you last. 1 have been rambling through Portugal, Spain, Greece, &r. Kc, for soaie years, and have found sn many changes on my return, that it would be very unfair not to expect that you should have had your share of al'era'ion and improvement with the rest. I write to request \ favour of von : a lillle boy of eleven years, the son of Mr. * *, mv particular friend, is about to become an Etonian, and I should esteem anv act of protection or kindness to him as an obligation to myself; let nic beg of you then to take some little notice of him at first, till he is able to shift for himself. " I was happv to hear a verv favourable account of you from a srhooHVHow a few weeks a^o, and should be glad to h-aro that voirr family are as well as I wish them to be. I presuuK* von arc in the upper school; as an Etonian, you will look down upon a Harrow man; but I never, even in mv boyish days, disputed your superiority, which I once experienced in a cricket match, where 1 had the honour of making one of eleven, who were beaten to their hearts 1 content by your college m o?w ■mtng*. * Believe me to be, with great truth, &c &c" LETTER CXIX. TO MR. ROGERS. K February 4, 1S12. *MY dear sir, ■ With my best acknowledgments to Lord Holland, I have to offer my perfect concurrence in the propriety of the question previously to be put to ministers. If their answer is in the negative, I shall, with his lordship's ap- probation, give notice of a motion for a Committee of In- quirv. I would also gladly avail myself of his most able advice, and any information or documents with which he might be pleased to intrust me, to bear me out in the statement of facts it may be necessary to submit to the House. u From all that fell under my own observation during my Christmas visit to Newstead, I feel convinced that, if conciliatory measures are not very soon adopted, the most unhappy consequences may be apprehended. Nightly outrage and daily depredation are already at their height, and not only the masters of frames, who are obnoxious on account uf their occupation, but persons in no degree connected with the malcontents or their oppressors, are liable to insult and pillage. " I am very much obliged to you for the trouble you have taken on my account, and beg you to believe me ever your obliged and sincere, &c." LETTER CXX. TO LORD HOLLAND. "6, St. James's-street, P'eb. 23, 1S12. * MV LORD, •With my best thanks, I have the honour to return the Notts, letter to your lordship. I have read it with attention, but do not think I shall venture to avail myself of its contents, a< my view of the question differs in some measure from Mr. Coldham's. I hope I do not wrong him, but las objections to the bill appear to me to be founded on certain apprehensions that he and his coad- jutors might be mistaken for the 'original advisers* (to quote htm) of the measure. For my own part, I con sider the manufacturers as a much injured body of men, sacrificed to the views of certain individuals who have enriched themselves by those practices winch have de- prived the frame- workers of employment. For instance —by the adoption of a certain kind of frame, one man performs the work of seven — six are thus thrown out of Wuwiate. But it is to bo observed that the work thus done is far inferior in quality, hardly marketable at home, and hurried over with a view to exportation- Surely mv lord, however we may rejoice in any improvement in the arts which may be beneficial to mankind, wo must not allow manlnnd to be sacrificed to improvements in mechanism. The maintenance and well-doing of tiro industrious poor is an object of greater consequence to the community than the enrichment of a few monopolists by any improvement in the implements of trade, which deprives the workman of his bread, and renders the la- bourer ' unworthy of his hire.' My own motive for op- posing the bill is founded on its palpable injustice, and its certain metheacy. I have seen the slate of these miserable men. and it is a disgrace to a civilized country. l'lnir excesses may be condemned, but cannot be subject of wonder. The effect of tire present bill would be to drive them into ac'ual rebellion. The few words I shall venture to offer on Thursday will be founded upon these opinions formed from mv own observations on the spot.* Bv previous inquiry, I am convinced these men would have been restored to employment and the count v to tranquillity. It is, perhaps, not yet too late, and is surely worth the trial. It can never be too late to employ force in such circumstances. I believe your lordship does not coincide with me entirely on this subject, and most cheerfully and sincerely shall 1 submit to your superior judgment and experience, and take some other Hne of argument against the bill, or be silent altogether, should you deem it more advisable. Con- demning, as every one must condemn, the conduct of these wretches, I believe in the existence of grievances hich call rather for pity than punishment. I have the honour to be, with great respect, mv lord, "Your lordship's ** most obedient and obbged servant, 6 Bvron. tt P. S. — I am a little apprehensive that your lordship will think me too lenient towards these men, and half a frame-breaker myself" LETTER CXXI. TO MR. HODGSON. "8, St. Jamcs's-street, March 5, 1812. "mv dear bodgsos, " Wt are not answerable for reports of speeches in the papers, they are always given incorrectly, and on this occasion more so than usual, from the debate in the Commons on the same night. The Morning Post should have said eighteen years. However, you will find the speech, as spoken] in the Parliamentary Register, when it comes out. Lords Holland and Grenville, particularly the latter, paid me some high compliments in the course of their speeches, as you may have seen in the papers, and Lords Eldon and Harrowby answered me. I have had many marvellous eulogies repeated to me since, in person and by prow, from divers persons ministerial— a. ministerial ! — as well as oppositionists ; of them I shall only mention Sir F. Burdett. He says, it is the best speech by a lord since the ' Lord knows when,' probably from a fellow-feeling in the sentiments. Lord H. tells me I shall beat them all if I persevere, and Lord G. remarked that the construction of some of my periods are very like Burke's!! And so much for vani'v. I spoke very violent sentences with a sort of modest impudence, abused every thing and every body, and pul the Lord Chancellor very much out of humour; an I if I may believe what I hear, have not lost any cha-acter by the experiment. As to my delivery, loud and tliient enough, perhaps a little theatrical. I could not recognise myself or any one else in the newspapers. 1 See hli tint S|i#ecli, page 272. 42 LETTERS, 1612. "My poesy comes out on Saturday. Hobhouse is here; I shaV tall him to write. Mj rtone is gm* fol the present, but I fear is part of my habit. Wc all talk of a visit to Cambridge. "Yours ever. "B." LETTER CXXIT. TO LORD HOLLAND. "St. JamesVstrect, March 5th, 1812. *MV LORD, "May I request your Lordship to accept a copy* of the thing which accompanies this note? You have already so fully proved the truth of the tirst line of Pope's couplet, 1 Forgiveness to Ihc injured doth belong, that I long fur an opportunity to give ihc lie to 'he verse that follows. Ifl were not perfectly convinced thai any thing I may have formerly uttered in tin- boyish rashness of mv misplaced resentment had made as little impres- sion as it deserved to make, I should hardly havi Bdence — perhaps your lordship may give it a stronger and more appropriate appellation — to send you a quarto of the same scribbler. But your lordship, T am sorry to observe to-day, is trouhled with the gout : if my book can produce a laugh against itself or the author, it will be of some service. If it can set you to steep, the benefit wi" be yet greater; and as some facetious personage observed half a century ago, that 'poetry is a mere drug, 1 l offel you mine as an humble assistant to the '< an m£decinale. I trust you will forgive this and all my other buffooneries, and believe mi' to U\ with L'lvat re^perl, "Your lordship's obliged and sincere servant, "Byron." he most readily consented to remove this obstacle. A : ■-! I drew a pen across the parts I considered objectionable, and he undertook to send me the letter re-written, next morning. In the mean bine, I received from Lord Eyron the following paper for my guidance.' " With regard to the passage on Mr. Way's lo^s, no unfair play was hinted may fa referring tc the book; and it is expressly added that the manager* were ignorant of that transaction. As to the prevalence of play at the Argyle, ii cannot he denied that there were billiards and dire ; — Lord B. has been a witness to the use of both at the Argyle Rooms. These, it is pre- sumed, come under the denoniination <>f play. If play he allowed, the President of the Institution can hardly complain of bent- termed the 'Arbiter of Play,' — or what becomes of Ins authority ' "Lord B. has no personal animosity to Colonel Greville. A public institution, t" which he, himselfj was a subscriber, he consider! I himself to have a right to notice "publicly. Of that institution, Colonel Gresiile was the avowed director ; — il is '•"< 'ate :•> enter into the on of its merits or dem "Lord B. must leave the discussion of the reparation, (far the real or supposed injury, to Colonel t;.'s friend and Mr. Moore, the friend of Lord B. — be L >i»in.r them to recollect that, while they consider Colonel G.'s honour, Lord B. must also maintain Ids own. If the business can be settled amicably, Lord B. will do as much as can ami ought to lie done by a man of honour towards con- ciliation; — if not, he must satisfy Colonel G.in the man- ner most conducive to his further wishes. 1 ' In relation to the following note of Lord Byron, Mr. Moore says : — "Not long after the publication of Childe Harold, the noble author paid me a visit, one morning, and, putting a letter into my hands, which he had just received, renin ■ :- ed that I would undertake to manage for him whatever proceedings it might render necessary. This letter, I found, had been delivered to him by Mr. Leckie, (a gen- tleman well known by a work on Sicilian affairs,) and came from a once active and popular member of the fashionable world, Colonel Greville, — its purport being to require of his lordship, as author of'English Bards, &c.' such reparation as it was in his power to make f >r the injury which, as Colonel Greville conceived, certain pas- sages in that Satire, reflecting upon his conduct, as manager of the Argvle Institution, were calculated to Inflict upon his character. In the appeal of the gallant colonel, there were some expressions of rather an ;m r v cast, which Lord Byron, (hough fully conscious of the length to which he himself had gone, was but little in- clined to brook, and, on my returning the letter into his hands, he said, 'To such a letter as that there can be but one sort of answer.' lie agreed, however, to trust the matter entirely to my discretion, and I had, shortly after, an interview with the friend of Colonel Greville. By this gentleman, who was then an utter stranger to me, I was received with much courtesy, and with every disposition to bring the affair intrusted to us to an ami- cable issue. On my premising that the tone of his friend's letter stood in the way of negotiation, and thai some ob- noxious expressions which it contained musi he removed before I could proceed a single step towards explanation, * Child* HitmM, To hli s'uter, Mr*. Leigh, one of the first preaen- tUinn OOplw win nUo sent, wiih the following ilMCripLlMI In it ! — " To Augusta, toy dearcal suter, and nir >>«t friend, who lioi 1VW fowl m* much belter 'h*n I de*&v*d, this volume u prevented r * her fathtr'i ton, onu ^t#i afTo.ciiftna.t6 brother, ' B." "In the morning I received the letter, in its new form, from Mr. Leckie, with the annexe 1 note. " ( MV DE \K SIR, "I found my friend very ill in bed ; he has, however, manage I to copy the enclosed, with the alteration- pro- ... I Perhaps you may wish to see me in the mom- inn; I shall therefore be glad to see you any time till twelve o'clock. If you rather wish me to call on you, tell me, and I shall obey your summons. "'Yours, very truly, l.l.rCKIE. " With such facilities towards pacification, it is almost needless to add, that there was hut little delay in settling the matter amicably." LETTER CXXIII. TO MR. WILLIAM HANKES. "April 20th, 1812. "mv pear BANKFS, "I feel rather hurt (not Bavagely) at the speech you made to me last night, and my hope is, that it was only one of your pro/one jests. I should be very sorry that any part of my behaviour Bhould give you cause to sup- pose thai 1 think higher of myself] or otherwise of you, than I have always done. I can assure you dial 1 am as much the humbles) of your servants as at 'Inn. (.'oil.; and ifl have no! been ai home when you favoured me with a call, the loss was more mine than yours. In the bustle of buzzing parties, there i^, there . an he, no rational conversation ; hot when I can enjoy it, there is nobody's I can prefer to your own. "Believe me ever faithfully "and most affectionately yours, "BlEOH." LETTER CXXIV. TO MR. WILLIAM BANKKS. "my dear bankes, " My eagerness to come to an explanation has, I trust, convinced you that whatever my unlucky manner LETTERS, 1812, 43 might inadvertently be, the change was as unintentional as (if intended) it would have been ungrateful. I really was not aware that, while we were together, I had evinced such caprices ; that we were not so much in each other's company as I could have wished, I well know, but I think so acute an observer as yourself musl have perceived enough to explain Otis, without supposing any slight to one in whose society I have pride and pleasure. Recollect that I do not allude here to 'ex- tended 3 or 'extending* acquaintances, but to circum- stances you will understand, I think, on a little reflection. * And now, my dear Bankes, do not distress me by supposing that I can think of you, or you of me, otherwise than I trust we have long thought. You told me not long ago that my temper was improved, and I should be sorry that opinion should be revoked. Believe me, your friendship is ofinore account to me than all those absurd vanities in which, I fear, you conceive me to take too much interest. I have never disputed your superiority, or doubted (seriously) your good will, and no one shall ever ' make mischief between us' without the sincere regret on the part of your ever affectionate, &c. "P. S. 1 shall see you, 1 hope, at Lady Jersey's. Hobhouse goes also." NOTES TO MR. MOORE. "March 25th, 1812. * Know all men by these presents, that you, Thomas Moore, stand indicted — no — invited, by special and par- ticular solicitation, to Lady Caroline Lamb's, to-morrow even, at half-past nine o'clock, where you will meet with a civil reception and decent entertainment. Pray, come —I was so examined after you this morning, that I en- treat you to answer in person. Believe me, &c." " Friday noon. "I should have answered your note yesterday, but I hoped to have seen you this morning. I must consult with you about the day we dine with Sir Francis. I ■appose we shall meet at Lady Spencer's to-night. I did not know that you were at Miss Berry's the other night, or I should have certainly gone there. "As usual, I am in all sorts of Scrapes, though none. at pi esent, of a martial description. Believe me, &c." "May 8th, 1812. u I am too proud of being your friend to care with who n I am linked in your estimation, and, God knows, I wrni friends more at this time than at any other. I am • taking '"ire of myself' to no great purpose. If you knew- my situation in every point of view, you would excise apparent and unintentional neglect. * * I sh ill leave town, I think ; but do not you leave it with- out seeing me. I wish you, from my soul, every happi- ness vou can wish yourself ; and I think you have taken the road to secure it. Peace be with you 1 1 fear she has abandoned me. Ever, &c." « May 20th, 1812. "On Monday, after pitting up all ni;Jif, I saw I >*-U ii itr— ham launched into eternity, and at three the same dav I saw * * * launched into the country. * * " I believe, in the beginning of June, I shall he down for a few days in Notts. If so, I shall beat vou up *en passant 1 with Hobhouse, who is endeavouring, like vou and every body else, to keep me out of scrape: I meant to have written you a long letter, but I find I cannot. If any thing remarkable occurs, you will hear it from me — if good ; if bad i there are plenty to tell it. In the mean time do you be happy. "Ever yours, &c. "P. S. My hest wishes and respects to Mrs. Moore, M-sttfi is beautiful. I may say so even to you, for I never was more struck with a countenance." LETTER CXXV. TO LORD HOLLAND. "June 25th, 1812. "my dear lord, "I must appear very ungrateful, and have, indeed, been very negligent, but till last night I was not apprized ofLady Hollands restoration, and 1 shall call to-morrow to have the satisfaction, I trust, of hearing that she is well. — I hope that neither politics nor gout have assailed your lordship since 1 last saw you, and that you also are 1 as well as could be expected. 1 •* The other night, at a ball, I was presented by order to our gracious Regent, who honoured me with some conversation, and professed a predilection for poetry.— [ confess it was a most unexpected honour, and I thought of poor BrummeU's adventure, with some apprehensions of a similar blunder. I have now great hope, in the event of Mr. Pye's decease, of warbling truth at court, 1 like Mr.MaUett, of indifferent memory. — Consider 100 marks a year! besides the wine and the disgrace; but then remorse would make me drown myself in my own butt before the year's end, or the finishing of my first dithyrambic. So that, after all, I shall not meditate our laureate's death by pen or poison. u Will you present my best respects to Lady Holland and believe me hers and yours very sincerely " LETTER CXXVI. TO SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART. " St. JamesWreet, July 6th, 1812. "sir, " I have just been honoured with your letter. — I feel sorry that you should have thought it worth while to notice the ' evil works of my non-age,' as the thing is [ipressed voluntarily, and your explanation is too kind not to give me pain. The Satire was written when I iv& very young and very angry, and fully bent on dis- playing my wrath and my wit, and now I am haunjed by the ghosts of my wholesale assertions. I cannot sufficiently thank you for your praise ; and now, waiving myself, let me talk to you of the Prince Regent. He ordered me to be presented to him at a hall ; and after some sayings peculiarly pleasing from royal lips, as to my own attempts, he talked to me of you and your im mortalities: he preferred you to every bard past and present, and asked which of your works pleased me most. It was a difficult question. I answered, I thought the ' Lay. 1 He said his own opinion was nearly similar. In speaking of the others, I told him that I thought you more particularly the poet of Princes, as they never appeared more fascinating than in 'MarmioB, and the 'Lady of the Lake. 1 He was pleased to coin- cide, and to dwell on the description ofyour Jameses as no less royal than poetical. He spoke alternately of Homer and yourself, and seemed well acquainted with both ; so that (with the exception of the Turks and your humble servant) you were in very good company. I <\e(v Murray to have exaggerated his royal highness's opinion ofyour powers, nor can I pretend to enumerate all he said on the subject ; but it may give you pleasure to hear that it was conveyed in language which would onlv suffer by mv attempting to transcribe it, and with a tone and taste which gave me a very high idea of his abilities and accomplishments, which I had hitherto con- sidered as confined to manners, certainly superior to those of any living gentleman. " This interview was accidental. I never went to the levee ; for having seen the courts of Mussulman and Catholic sovereigns, my curiosity was sufficiently allayed, and mv polities hem : as perverse as my rhymes, I had, in fact, 'no business there.' To be thus praised by your Sovereign must be gratifying to you ; and if that gratifi- 44 LETTERS, 1812. ration is not alloyed by the communication being made through me, the bearer of it will consider himself very fortunately and sincerely ** Your obliged and obedient servant, " BVAOIf. *P. S. Excuse this scrawl, scratched in a great hurry and just after a journey." LETTER CXXVII. TO LOED HOLLAND. "Cheltenham, September 10, 1812. "my dear lord, *Thc lines* which I sketched off on your hint are still, or rather u:crt,'in an unfinished stale, for I hare just com- mitted them to a flame more decisive than thai of Drury. Coder all the circumstances, I should hardly wish a con- test with Philo-drama — Philo-Drury — Asbestos, H * *, and all the auonvim-s and synonyraes of the Committee candidates. Seriously,] think yon have a chance of some- thing much better; for prologuizing is not my forte, and, at all events, either my pride or my modesty won't let me incur the hazard of having my rhymes buried in next ni' tilth's Magazine, under'Essays on the Murder of Mr. Perceval,' and 'Cures for the Bite of a Mad Dog,' as poor Goldsmith complained of the fate of far superior performances. " I am still sufficiently interested to wish to know the successful candidate ; and, among so many, 1 have no doubt some will be excellent, particularly in an age when writing verse is the easiest of all attainments. "I cannot answer your intelligence with the 'like comfort,' unless, as you are deeply theatrical, you may wish to hear of Mr. * *, whose acting is, I fear, utterly inadequate to the London engagement into which the managers of Coven t Garden have lately entered. His figure is fat, his features fiat, his voice unmanageable, Ins action ungraceful, and, as Diggory says, *I defy him to crtort that d — d muffin face of his into madness.' I was Tery sorry to see him in the character of the 'Elephant en the slack rope;' for, when I last saw him, 1 was in raptures with his performance. But then 1 was sixteen, — an age to which all London thed condescended to subside. After all, much better judges have admired, and may again ; but I venture to ' prognosticate a pro- phecy' (see the Courier) that he will not succeed. "So, poor dear Rogers has stuck fast on 'the brow of the mighty Helvellvn' — I hope not for ever. My best respects to Lady H. — her departure, with mat of my other friends, was a sad event for me, now reduced to a state of the most cynical solitude. 'By the waters of Cheltenham I sat down and drank; when 1 remembered thee, oh, Georgiana Cottage ! As for our harp*, we hanged them upon the willows that grew thereby. Then lln'v said, Sing us a song of Drury-lane,' &c. — but I ;uu dumb and dreary as the Israelites. The waters have disordered me to my heart's content, — you were right, as you always are. "Believe me ever your obliged * and affectionate servant, "Byron." LETTER CXXVIIL TO LORD HOLLAND. "September 22, 1812. ■mv dear lord, " In a day or two 1 will send you something which you will still have the liberty to reject if you dislike it. 1 should like to have had more time, but will do my best, • A'l'lnm At Uw Queuing of Druiy La,jes with douoft readings — choose between lhcm— eiit — atbl — reject — or destroy — do with them as you will — I leave it to you and the Committee — you CSJH it say so called a 'wn com- mittendo. 1 What will thty do (and I do) with the hun- dred ami one rejected Troubadours ? *With trumpets, yea, and with shawms,' will y<>u be assailed in the most diabolical doggerel. 1 wish my name not to bran ink* till the day is decided. I shall net be in town, so it won't much matter; but let us have a good deliverer. I think El list on should be the man, or Pope ; not Raymond, I implure von by the love of Khythinus ! " The passages marked thus = ==, above and below, are t'ur you to choose between epithets, and such like poetical furniture. Pra^ - write me a line, and believe me ever, &c. "My best remembrances to Lady H. Will you be good enough to decide between the various readings marked, and erase tlie other; or our deliverer mny be as puz/led as a commentator, and belike repeat both. If these versirles won't do I will hammer out some mure endecasyllables. "P. S. Tell Lady- H. I have had sad work lo keep out the Phmnix — I mean the Pire-Office of that name. It has ensured the theatre, and why not the Address ?" LETTER CXXX. TO LORD HOLLA WD. "September 24. " 1 send a recast of the first four lines of the concluding paragraph. " Thii greeting o*tr, the niKimt rule obty'd, Thetlrmnn'* homaga hy her HeruM p*M, fteceivr "tr vtttomr tou, whose bystj ttit* Surixgi hum our henru bimJ Cam would wiu rour ow». The curiam rim, A. . fie. And do forgive all this trouble. See what ii is to have to do even with the gmtuUat of us. Ever, &e." LETTER CXXXI. TO LORD HOLLAND. "Cheltenham, Sept. 25, 1812. "Still 'more matter for a May morning. 1 Having patched the middle and end of the Address, I send one more couplet for a part of the beginning which, if not too turgid, you will have the goodness to add. After thai flagr&nt image of tin' Thames, (I hope no unlucky wag will sav 1 have set it on tire, though Drydcn, in his 1 Annus Mirahilis,' and Churchill, in his 'Tunes,' did it before me,) 1 mean to uiscrt this: " At (tithing Iai the new Volcano shone trni tor* AM iwcpl thl ilttf» with hylitniin^ not their own, While (IiousaixIs throng'*) urouiiJ the burning dome, Ac. Ac. I think ' thousands' less flat than ' crowds collected' — but don't let me plunge into the bathns, or rise into Nat. Lee's Bedlam metaphors. By-the-by, the best view o( the said fire (which 1 myself saw from a housetop in Oovent-garden) was at Wesuninster Bridge, from the reflection on the Thames. LETTERS, 1612. 45 'Perhaps the present couplet had be**er come in after trembled for their homes,' the two lines after; — as other- wise the image certainly sinks, and it will run just as well. " The lines themselves, perhaps, may be better thus — ('choose,' or 'refuse' — but please yourself ] and don't mind 'Sir Fretful') — $atUy *' As flail. 'tl the vohimed Maze, and glumly shone The alii..* wuli lightnings awful as tlnir own. The last runs smoothest, and, I think, best ; but you know better than best. * Lurid' is also a less indistinct epithet than ' livid wave,' and, if you think so, a dash of the pen will do. "I expected one line this morning; in the mean time, I shall remodel and condense, and if I do not hear from you, shall send another copy. " I am ever, &c. ! LETTER CXXXI1. TO LORD HOLLAND. "September 26, 1812 You will think there is no end to my villanous emendations. The fifth and sixth lines I think to alter thus : " Ye who behold — t>h oight admired and mourn 'd, Wh'ise radiance mixk'd the ruin it uduru'd ; oecause 'night' is repeated the next line but one; and, as it now stands, the conclusion of the paragraph, 'wor- thy him (Shakspeare) ami you? appears to apply tin you 1 to those only who were out of bed and in Covent- gorden market on the night of conflagration, instead of the audience or the discerning public at large, all of whom are intended to be comprised in that comprehensive and, I hope, comprehensible pronoun. K By-the-by, one of my corrections in the fair copy seat yesterday has dived into the bathos some sixty fathom — ■ " When Gar-rick died, and Brinsley ceased to write. Ceasing to live is a much more serious concern, and ought not to be first ; therefore I will let the old couplet stand, with its half rhymes 'sought' and 'wrote.'* Second thoughts in every thing are best, bur, in rhyme, third and fourth don't come amiss. I am very anxious on this business, and 1 do hope that the very trouble I occasi ra you will plead its own excuse, and that it will tend to show my endeavour to mala* the most of the time allot- ted. I wish I had known it months agojfbr in that ease I had not left one line standing on another. I always scrawl in this way, and smooth as much as 1 can, but never sufficiently; and, latterly, I can weave a nini -line stanza faster than a couplet, for which measure I have nut the cunning. When 1 began 'Childc Harold, 1 1 had never tried Spenser's measure, and now I cannot scribble in any other. "After all, my dear lord, if you can get a decent Ad- dress elsewhere, don't hesitate u put this aside. Why did you not trust your own Muse ? 1 am very-sure she would have been triumphant, an 1 saved the Committee their trouble — l 't is a joyful one 1 to me, but I fear I shall not satisfy even myself. After the account you sent me, 1 is no compliment to say, you would have beaten your candidates ; but I mean that, in Oiat case, there would have been no occasion for their being beaten at all. * There are but two decent prologues in our tongue — Pope's to Cato — Johnson's to Drury-lane. These, with ■ " Such arc the names thai here your plaudits sought, When Gamete acted, und when Umislej wrole." At present the couplet stands thus : *'De6,r«reiheduvs that made our annals bright, Lt% Oaniek iWii or Briiule) ccand w writ*/' the epilogue to the 'Distressed Mother,' and, I think onu of Goldsmith's, and a prologue of old Cohnan's to Beau- mont and Fletcher's Philaster, are the best things of the kind we have. " P. S. I am diluted to the throat with medicine for the stone; and Boisragon wants me to try a warm climate for the winter — but I won't." LETTER CXXXIII. TO LORD HOLLAND. "September 27, 1812. B I have just received your very kind letter, and hope you have met with a second copy corrected and ad- dressed to Holland House, with some omissions and this new couplet, *' As glnred each rising flash,* and ghastly shone The aides with lightnings awful as their own. As to remarks, I can only sav 1 will alter and acquiesce in any thing. With regard to the part which "Whilbread wishes to omit, I believe the Address will wo off quicker without it, though like the agility of the Hottentot, at the expense of its vigour. I leave to your choice entirely the different specimens of stucco-work ; and a brick of your own will also much improve my Babylonish turret. I should like Elliston to have it, with your leave. 'Adorn' and 'mourn' are lawful rhymes in Pope's death of the unfor- tunate Lady — Gray has ' forlorn' and ' mourn' — and ' torn' and ' mourn' are in Smollet's famous Tears of Scotland. "As there will probably be an outcry among the re jected, 1 hope the Committee will testify (if it be need- ful) that I sent in nothing to the congress whatever, with or without a name, as your lordship well knows. All I have to do with it is with and through you ; and though I, of course, wish to satisfy the audience, I do assure you my first object is to comply with your request, and in so doing to show the sense 1 have of the many obli- gations you have conferred upon me. " Yours ever, ° B." LETTER CXXXtV. TO LOUD HOLLAND. "September 27, 1812. B I believe this is the third scrawl since yesterdav — all about epithets. 1 think the epithet 'intellectual' won't convey the meaning I intend ; and though I hate com- pounds, for the present I will try (col' permesso) the word 'genius-gifted patriarchs of our line'f instead. Johnson has ( many-coloured life,' a compound — but they are always best avoided. However, it is the only one in ninety lines, but will be happy to give way to a better. I am ashamed to intrude any more remembrances on Lady H. or letters upon you; but you are, fortunately for me, gifted with patience already too often tried by " Your, &c. &c." LETTER CXXXV. TO LORD HOLLAND. "September 28, 1812. " Will this do better ? the metaphor is more complete. lava of the " Till slowly ebb'd (he •pent volcanic wave, Aud OUckeniug una niaik'd the Mines 1 ! grave. If not, we will say 'burning' wave, and instead of 'burn- ing clime,' in the line some couplets back, have 'glowing.' "Is Whit bread determined to castrate all my cavaby " At present, " As glared the volumtd blaze." f Tim, as liually altered, is " iuuowrul names, einllaioued en our lln*." 43 LETTERS, ISI2. lines?* I don't see why t'other house should be spared; besides, ii is the public, who oughl to know bettei ; and v u recollect Johnson's was against similar buffooneries, of Rich's — but, certes, I am not Johnson. ' Instead of ' effects, 1 say ' labours' — ' degenerate' "ill do, will it? JVIr. Betty ifl no lunger a babe, therefore the line cannot be personal. "Will this do? the burning - .1 the lava of that moiien wove,? with ' glow ing dome,' in case you prefer ' burning 1 added to this 'wave 1 mrfaphoriral. The word 'fiery pillar* was suggested by the 'pillar of fire 1 in the I k of V odus, whii Ii went before the Israelites through the Red Sea. I once thou; lit of saying 'like Israel's pillar, 1 and making it a simile, but I did not know, — the great temp- tation was leaving the epithel 'fiery 3 for the supplement- ary wave. 1 want to work up that passage, as it is the only new ground us prologuizers can go upon — " Thla is the jjlncc whait) if a poet Shined In descripli ha might show it. If I part with the p..s- ilnh'v nf a tut m.' . . .nfl r>, :iJi,,m, we lessen the compliment to Shakspeare. However, We will e'en mend it thus: " Yea, it shall he — the magic of that name. Thai Korni Lhc scythe ol Time, the torch of Flams, On the same spot, tic. &c. There — the deuce is in it, if that is not an improvement to Whitbread's content Recollect, it is the 'name,' and not the 'magic,' that has a noble contempt for those same weapons, [fit were the 'magic 9 my metaphor would be somewhat of the maddest — so the ' name 1 i- the ante- cedent. But, my dear lord, your patience is not quite so immortal — therefore, with many and sincere thanks, 1 am " Yours - ver most affectionately. "P. S. I foresee there will be charges of partiality in the papers; but you know I sent in no Address; and glad both you and I must be thai 1 did not, for, in thai case, their plea had been plausible. I doubt the Pit will be testy ; but conscious innocence (a uo\» 1 End pleasing sensation) makes me bold." see, now taken ir for granted that these things are re- formed, Iconfe I wish thai part of the Address to stand; but if W. i> inexorable, e'en let ii got I have also new cast the lim rjed the hint of future combustion, ■ and sent them offthis morning, u n:iVt -' 'I' Id, or insert, the approved ahera- tions as they arrive? Thej 'conn like shadows, so deparl ;' occupy me, and, I fear, disturb you. " I »0 ii"! lei Air. \V. put his Address' into Ellison's hands till you have Bottled OU these alterations. E. will think it too Ion-; — nun Ii depends on the speaking, I fear it will nut bear much curtailing without chasms in the sense. " 1' i^ certainly loolong in the reading ; but rTEIliston exerts himself, such a favouri ■ public will not iit tedious. / should think it so, if lie were not to speak it. '■ Fours ever, &<-. "P. S. On looking again, I doubt my idea of having obviated W.'s objection. To the other House, allusion is a ( non sequitur 1 — but I wish to plead for this part, because the thing really is not to be passed over. Many after-pieces at the Lyceum bj thi same company have already attacked this 'Augean Stable 1 — and John- son, in his prologue against 'Lunn, 1 (the barlequiB-ma- nager, Rich,) — 'Hunt,' — 'Mahomet,' &c. is surely a fair precedent.'' LETTER CXXXVF. TO LORD HOLLAND. "Sept. 28. " 1 have altered the middle couplet, so a^ I hope partly todoawav with W.'s objection. 1 do think, in the present state of the stage, it has been unpardonable to pass over the horses and Mis-; Mudie, &c. As Betty i~ no longer a boy, how ran this be applied to him? He is now to be judged as o mam, If he acts still like a boy, the public will but be more ashamed of their blunder. 1 have, you • Tin lines he here alludes to, finally were omiu<-i by lhc Commit- tee ; tiny ware Lh< ■■ Nay, lotetr still, the Drama yet deplores That late she deign'd to crated up n n..- WHsn Richard roar* in Bostc-oriA for ahoree, I ijf/u command, the steed must mine in coune. If •■' '■■< praise ■ ■ - i need, brulee io man n i all From babts <•'»/ brute* i i ri'i taete. Than, pride shall doubly nerve the actora 1 powen, When Id' ,ii. ii | , kvk hy onr«." T^i* last couple i but one was again altered Id a lubacquant cony lima ** 7"he past reproach lit prtttnt scene- Nor shift from man to babe, from babe 10 brute." t The form of this COUpIet, M printed I* n» follows : — " Till blackening ashes urn! the lonely wall I iut|.'d the Mujc's realm, iuni mark'd her fall." LETTER CXXXVIt. TO LORD HOLLAND. "Sept. 29,1312. " Shakspeare certainly ceased to reign in one of ha as t i ■ HI. did in America, and George 1 V. may in Ireland.! Now, we have nothing to d ii of our own, realms, and when the monarchy was gone, his majesty had but a barren sceptre. I have cut noay, you will see, and alined, but make it what VOU please; only I do implore, f>r my own gratification, one lash on cursed quadrupeds — k a long shot, Sir Lucius, if you love me. 1 I have altered ' wave, 1 &.<■. and tj i and so forth, for the timid. '■ I ..i me hear from you when convenient, and believe me, &c. "P. S. Do let tfiat stand, and cut out elsewhere. I shall choke, if we must overlook their d — d mena«erie. n LETTER CXXXVIU. TO LOUD HOLLAND. "Sep*. 30,1812. '• r sen 1 vou the most r can make of ii ; tor I am nol so well as I v. i i mid I 'pall in resolution.' "I wish much to see you, and will be at Tetbury by twelve on Saturday ; and (ruin thence I go on to Lord Jersey's, h is impossible not to allude to the de state ofthe Stag , but I have lightened it, and i roured to obviate your other objections. There is a new couple! for Sheridan, allusive to his Monody. All the alterations 1 have marked thus [, — as you will see by comparison with the other copy. I have- cudgelled my brains with the greatest willingness, and only wish 1 had more time to ha /* done hotter. ''Vcu will find a sort of clap-trap laudatory couplet inserted lor the quiet of the Committee, and I have added, towards the end, the couplet you were pleased io like. The whole Address is seventy-three lines, still * It bud been, origin,! illy, " Though a-Jier piltt may tint in future Jla^ui, On the aa-toe ejiot," &c. &c. t Some Objection, ilappearafromlbie, had been madetotb* paataje, ' and Sbakvjjcare ceased to nign." LETTERS, 1813. perhaps too !on?, and, if shortened, you will save time, but, I fear, a little of what I meant for sense also. " With mvnads of thanks, I am ever, &c. "Mv sixteenth edition of respects to Lady H. How she must laugh at all this ! "I wish Murray, my publisher, to print off some copies as soon as your lordship returns to town — it wiii ensure correctness in the papers afterward." LETTER CXXXIX. TO LORD HOLLAND. " Far be from him thni hour which asks in vain Tears such as flew for Garrick in hie strain ; or, Par be that hour that vainly asks in turn croum'd his Such verse for him as wept o'er Garrick's urn. "Sept. 30,181°.. ""Will you choose between these added to the lines on Sheridan?* I think they will wind up the parn-^vnr. and agree with the train of thought prereding them. "Now, one word as to the Committee — how could solve on a rough copy of an Address never sent in, unless you had been good enough to retain in memory or on paper, the thing they have been good enoush to adopt? By-thc-hy, the circumstances of the case should make the Committee less ( avidus gloria?,' for all prai: of them would look plaguy suspicious. If necessary to be slated at all, the simple facts bear them out. They surely had a right to act as they pleased. My sole ob- ject is one which, I trust, my whole conduct has shown; riz. (hat I did nothing insidious — sent in no Address r — but, when applied to, did my best for them and myself; but above all, that there was no undue partial- ity, which will be what the rejected will endeavour to make out. Fortunately — most fortunately — I sent in no lines on the occasion. For I am sure that had they, in that case, been preferred, it would have been asserted that / was known, and owed the preference to private friendship. This is what we shall probably have to en- counter, but, if once spoken and approved, we sha'n't be much 'inbarrassed by their brilliant conjectures, and, as to criticism, an old author, like an old bull, grows cooler (or ought) at every baitirw. "The only thing would be to avoid a party on the night oi delivery — afterward, the more the better, and the whole transaction inevitably tends to a good deal of discussion. Murray tells me there are myriads of iron- ical Addresses ready — some, in imitation of what is called my style. If they are as good as the Probationary Odes, or Hawkins's Pipe of Tobacco, it will not be bad fun for the imitated. B Ever,&c." LETTER CXL. TO LORD HOLLAND. "October2, 1812. " A copy of this Hill altered is sent by the post, but this will arrive first. It must be 'humbler' — ' yet aspiring* does away the modesty, and, after all, truth if truth. Besides, there is a puff direct altered, to please your plaguy rent* ra, " I shall be at Tctbury by twelve or one — but send this for you to ponder over. There are several Little tilings marked thus/ altered for your perusal. I have dismounted the cavalry, and, I hope, arranged to your general satisfaction. ■Ever.&c. "At Tetbury by noon. I hope, after it is sent, there will be no more elisions. It is not now so lone — 73 47 lines — two less than allotted. I will alter all Committee objections, but I hope you wont permit L'lliston to nave any twee whatever, — except in speaking it." ' Thete aiMetl linei, ae Buy be sen. by reference la the prinled Ati- rk.vere iiut relumed. LETTER CXLI. TO MR. MURRAY. K High-street, Cheltenham, Sept. 5, 1812. " Pray have the goodness to send those despatches, and a No. of the Edinburgh Review with the rest. I hope you have written to Mr. Thompson, thanked him in my name for his present, and told him that I shall be truly happy to comply with his request. How do you go on ? and when is the graven image, ' with bays and wicked rhyme upon 7,* to grace, or disgrace, some of our tardy editions 3 " Send me ' Rokeby.' Who the devil is he ? — no mat- ter, he has good connexions, and will be well introduced. I thank you for your inquiries: I am so so, but my thermometer is sadly below the poetical point. What will you give me or mine for a poem of six Cantos, (when complete — no rhyme, no recompense,) as like the last two as 1 can make them ? I have some ideas that one day may be imbodied, and till winter I shall have much leisure. " P. S. My last question is in the true style of Grub- street ; but, like Jeremy Diddler, I only 'fjsk for inform- ation.' Send me Adair on Diet and Regimen, just re published by Ridgway." LETTER CXLLT. TO MR. MURRAY. "Cheltenham, Sept. 14, 1812. " The parcels contained some letters and verses, all (but one) anonymous and complimentarv, and very anxious for my conversion from certain infidelities into which my good-natured correspondents conceive me to have fallen. The books were presents of a convertible kind. Also, 'Christian knowledge' and the 'Bioscope,' a religions Dial of Life explained ; and to the author of the former, (Cadell publisher,) I be- ! " I have to ask you a thousand pardons lor not fulfill- ing some orders before I left town; but if you knew all the cursed entanglements I had to wade through, il would be unnecessary to beg your forgiveness. When will Parliament (the new one) meet? — in sixty days, on account of Ireland, I presume; the lush election will demand a longer period for completion than the constitutional allotment. Yours, of course is safe, and all your side of the question. Salamanca is the mms- 1 Tlic inJtf vtnt afit'T-wai d. caned!*). terial watchword, and all will l'o well with you. I hope you will speak d fitly, 1 am sure at least you ought, and it will be expected. 1 sec Purtman means to stand again. Good night. "Ever yours most affectionately, ■ Nuaiftfr."* LETTER CXLIV. TO MR. JH'KKAV. "Cheltenham, Sept. 27, 1812. "I sent in no Address whatever to the Committee i but out of nearly one hundred, (this i^ confidenttalA none have been deemed worth acceptance; and incon- sequence of their subsequent application to nttj I have written a prolojrue, which has been received, and will In spoken. The MS. is now in the hands ofLord Hol- land. " I writ.- (his m< in ilj to say, that (however it is re* ceived by the au< ience) you will publish it in the next edition ofChiide Harold; and I only beg von at present to keep m v nun.- secret till you hear farther from me, and as soon as possible I wish you to have a correct copy, to do with as you think proper. "P.S. I should wish a few copies printed off btfore^ that the newspaper copies may be correct after the delivery. 9 LETTER CXLV. TO MH. RtURRAV. "Cheltenham, Oct. 12, 1812. "I have a very strong objection to the engraving of the portrait, and request that it may, on no account, ba prefixed; but lei all the proofs be burned, and the plate broken. I will be at the expanse which has been in- curred; it is but fair that /should, since I cannot per- mit the publication. I be?, as a particular favour, that you will lose no time in having this done, for which I have reasons thai I will state when 1 see you. For- give all the trouble I have occasioned you, "I have received no account of the reception of (ha Address, but &ee it is vituperated in the papers, which does not much embarrass an old author. I leave it to your own judgmenl to add it, or not, to your next edi- tion when required. Pray comply strictly with my wishes as to the engraving, and believe me, &r. "P. S. Favour me with an answer, as I shall not be easy till I heai that the proofs, &c. are destroyed. I hear that the Satirist has reviewed Childe Harold, in what manner I need not ask; but I wish to know if the old personalities an- revived? [haves better reason for asking this than any that merely concerns myself; but in publications of that kind, others, particularly female names, are sometimes introduced." LETTER CXLVI. TO LORD HOLLAND. "Cheltenham, Oct. M, 1812. "MY DF.AR LORD, I perceive that the papers, yea, even Perry's, are somewhat ruffled at the injudicious preference of the Committee. My friend Perry has, indeed, 'el tu Brute'-d me rather scurvily, tor which I will send him, for the M.C.f 'he next epigram 1 scribble, as a token of my full forgii tl Do the Committee mean to enter into no explanation of their proceedings? You must see there is a leaning towards a charge of partiality. You will, a' least, acquit me of any great anxiety to push myself before so man* • A mcKle nf signature lie fnrquenlly ftdopltd t Tbc Morning ( bmUde, oTwJtlch Mr. Perrj w»» the proyHetat* LET THUS, ISI2. •s» elder and beU-er anonymous, to whom the twenty guineas [which I take to be about two tliousand pounds Bank unrreucy) and the honour would have been equally weK cowe. 'Honour,' 1 see, 'hath no skill in paragvapli- wri ting.' * I wish to tnow how- it wwt olfatthf* second reading and wbcRtor any one has had the grace to give n a (•lance ivf a|>prohalioH. I h^ve Bean (to taper but Per- jy"s,anil two Sunday ones. Perry is severe, and the o)hew silent. If, Iw-weivr, you and y>>«r Committee are not i.'av diseaiisfied wiih your own judgments) I sluilt not mcdi en&aYeas* -myself libout the bri'hunt remark > of the journals. My «ws opinion uj*»jft it is what 11 a!\v-j\»> te'a,i\jM"*lia(.»« pretty near that or the public, * Believe mc, my dear lord, &c. &r. "P%6, .Mr best respects to Lady H. whose smiles wjl be- v<*y cqgSPJatorft, even, ftl tics distance.* LETTER CXLVtL to mr. .mi;ksav. "Chelteniuim, Oct. 18, ?R12- "AVWl ym have the goodness to get this Parody of a peculiar land 4 (tor all flic first lines are Svahtfs entire) inserted in several of the pai«rs, {>:^rreril^ and copied tnmtitiy; any Aonrf is difficult,) — |»articularly the Morn* big Clironidc ? Tell Mr. Perry I forgive him " : : he has juud, and may say against w/ cw/^tss, but Ire w>Ji allow me to deal with the doctor— '(«au£ alteram prnteHk) and not Mrav me. I cannot think what 5>as befeJlfMi Mr. Perrv, for of yore we were very gsjuri friends i^«i>Ut DO matter, only get this inserted. "I have a poem on W allying mr p&t^ of which I make y/nt a presets htttft ifinst be eponymous. It is in the old style of Kuglish Bards and Scotch Reviewers. "P.S. "With the next edit urn of Chihb; Harold you inav print the first fifty 0* a hundred opentaft lines of the 1 Curse of Minerva*' down fo the couplet beginning " M rfi-i (H was thus she spake, 4c. Of rourse, the moment the Sotire begin?, there you will sinp, and the opening is the best part." LETTER CXLYIH. TO MR. MBRRAY. B Oct. 19,1812. ° Many thanks, but I must pay the damage, and wi thank you to tell me the amount tor the engraving. think the ' Rejected Addresses 1 by far the best tiling nf ('., ■ kind sir.ee the Rolliad, and wishyo* had published then*. Tell tlie author 1 ! forgive hin% were b* twenty times over a satirist ;' and think his h^katkjns o>.t at a inferifefr fcifc tt*«£ (anions ones ol* Hawkins Bro.wne» H , a man of very lively wit, and less scurrilous thaa wits often are: altogether, I very much admire the perF'Tinancey Mid wish it all success. The Satirist ha- taken a new tone, us you will see: we have now v I think, finished with Childe Harold's critics. I have in hind a S Uirr Oil Waltzing^ wlilcll you must publish anonymously; it is not long, not quite two hundred Snes, b«1 will make a very small hoarded pamphlet. In l few days you shall have it. ■ P. S» The editor of the Satirist ought _o be tnanked Sir his revocation ^ it is done handsomely. after (ivt* years 1 wartare." • Among UV Addrewtei wtxt\ in to the DninMHit Commi'tee wsto« bv Dr. Baity, mtltled b Monologue, oi which tht i nrcnty woenfliMed ii UufttcU^-. t'he lir«t loir linen ol the Doctor's AAlceM arc a»fcU«ws ;- ' Wlien enerdEinR nb]«tU ro>*n pursue. Wll.it H(^ Thr |>ti». hl - ''" ■'■" v r.diitut (i'.j 7 A rmuc Edifice *ou litre ■njrv«y, ShfM from :li. ruini of die <,iher Hay !' JVbkli «riN are Uiui ridiculed in the Parody :— " Wht-n enersiztiijg r>bject« men ))i»-sii«,' The Lord kii^w* what (* wiii by l,o*-.l Viinwe who. ' A m'j>tr«*. Huonlogae jroa Bkrt wrVeyJ HlM'd from the ibcotre rte ' otiMrd«y. * t Sue POtmi [>. not forget that I have an account with you^ and t'"t 'his is inctad&L I give you too much IrnuUe to allow von to incur Fxjwnsc also. « V-M-. best know how far this 'Address riot' will aftec^ the future sale of Chiltle Havohl. I like the volume ( uT 'Rejected Addresses' better and better. The other parody which Perry has received is mine elso, {[ be- lieve.) It w Dr. Busby's speech versified^ You art* removing to Alhcinarle-street, I find, and I rejoice thai we shall be nean;r neighbours. I am going to Lord: Oxford's, but letters here will be forwarded. When at leisure, all communications from you will be wHJinglj! received by the humblest of your scribes. Did Mr. Ward write the review of Home Tooke's Life in Uid Quejcterly * U is excellent.* LETTER CL. TO MR. MURRAY. ■ Cheltenham, Nov. 22, lel£. "On nty retnm here from Lord O.vford's, 1 found your obltgino note, and wffl thttnk you to retain the letters, ateJ any other subsequent ones to the sanie adtlvess, till 1 arrive in town to claim them, which wil! psobalily bo in a few days, I have ui charge a curious and very long MS. poem, written by Lord Brooke, (the./W Somebody, without consulting you 1 • see ftcvnpi ^1. 60 LETTERS, 1813. or me, to prefix the Address to his volume* of* Dejected Addresses?' Is not this somewhat larcenous ? 1 think the ceremony of leave might have been asked, though 1 have no objection to the thing itself; and leave the 'hundred and **even' to tire themselves with 'base comparisons.' I bm-'jld think the ingenuous public tolerably sick of the subject, and, except the Parodies, I have not interfered, nor shall; indeed I did not know that 1 »r. Busta bad published his Apologetical Letter and Postscript, or I should have recalled them. But I confess I looked upon his conduct in a different light before its appear- ance. I see some mountebank has taken Alderman Birch's name to vituperate Dr. Busby ; he had much better have pilfered his pastry, which I should imagine the more valuable ingredient — at least for a puff. — Pray secure me a copy of Woodiall's new Junius, and believe me, &c." LETTER CLI. TO MR. WILLIAM BANKES. "December 26. "The multitude of your recommendations has already superseded mv humble endeavours to be of use to you, and, indeed, most of my principal friends are returned. Leake from Joannina, Canning and Adair from the city of the faithful, and at Smyrna no letter is necessary, as the consuls are always willing to do every thing for per- son af is of respectability. 1 have sent you three, one to (Gibraltar, which, though of no great necessity, will, per- haps, put you on a more intimate footing with ;l very pleaaant family there. You will very soon find out that a man of any consequence has very little occasion for any letters but to ministers and bankers, and of them you have already plenty, 1 will be sworn. "It is by no means improbable, that I shall go in the spring, and if you will hx any place of rendezvous about August, I will write or join you. — When in Albania, I wish you would inquire after Dervise Tahiri and Vas- cillie, (or Basil,) and make my respects to trie viziers, both there and in the Morea. If yon mention my name to Suleyman of Thebes, I think it will not hurt you; if I had my dragoman, or wrote Turkish, I could have given you letters of real service; but to the English they are hardly requisite, and the Greeks themselves can be of little advantage. Liston you know already, and I do not, as he was not then minister. Mind you visit Ephe- BUS and the Troad, and let me hear from you when you please. I believe G. Forresti is now at Yanina, but if not, whoever is there will be too happy to assist you. Be particular about^r/na«na,* never allow yourself to be bullied, for you are better protected in Turkey than any vt here ; trust not the Greeks ; and take some knieknach- tries for presents — watches, pistols, &c. &c. to the Beys and Pachas. If you find one Demetrius, at Athens or elsewhere, 1 can recommend him as a good dragoman. I hope to join you, however; but you will find swarms of English now in the Levant. u Believe me, &c." LETTER CLII. TO MR. MURRAY. "February 20, 1813. * In ' Horace in London, 1 I perceive some stanzas on Lord Elgin, in which (waiving the kind compliment to myself,) I heartily concur. I wish I had the pleasure of Mr. Smith's acquaintance, as [ could communicate the curious anecdote you read in Mr. T.'s letter. If he * "The genuine Rejected Addresses, presented lo the Committee of MnnHgemeiUffir Dmrv-lane Theatre , preceded by that Wlillaj] by Lord Hvron »nd adopted hy the Committee : — published by B. M'Mttl*"* would like it, he can have the suhstunce for his second edition ; if not, I shall add it lo our next, though 1 think we already have enough of Lord Elgin. - What I have read of this work seems admirably done. My praise, however, is not much worth the au- thor's having ; but you may thank bun in my name for his. The idea is new — we have excellent imitations of the Satires, &c. by Pope ; but I remember but one mu- tative Otle in his works, and none any where else. I can hardly suppose that they have lost any fame by the fate of the farce ; but even should this be the case, the present publication will again place them on their pin- nacle. " Yours, ice." LETTER CLIII. TO MR. ROOER8. "March 25, 1813. " I enclose you a draft for the usurious interest due to Lord * *'s -proUgi ; — I also could wish you would state thus much for me to his lordship. Though the transac- tion speaks plainly in itself for the borrower's folly and the lender's usury, it never was my intention to quash the demand, as I legally might, nor to withhold payment of principal, or, perhaps, even unlawful ink-rest. You know what my situation has been, and what it is. I have parted with an estate, (which has been in my family for nearly three hundred years, ;uid was never disgraced by being in possess* in of lawyer, a churchman, or a woman, during that period,) to liquidate this and similar de- mands; and the payment of the purchase is still with- held, and may be, perhaps, for years. }t] therefore, I am under the necessity of making those persons wait fbf their money, (winch, considering the terms,, they can afford to surfer,) it is my misfortune. 'When I arrived at majority in 1809, I offered my own security on legal interest, and it was refused. Wow, I will not accede to this. This man I may have seen, but I have no recollection of the names of any par- ties but the agents and the securities. The moment I can, it is assuredly my intention to pay my debts. This person's case may bo a hard one ; but, under all circum- Btances, what is mine? I could n>d foresee that the purchaser of my estate was to demur in paying for it. "1 am glad it happens to be in my power so far to accommodate my Israelite, and only wish I could do as much for the rest of the Twelve Tribes. " Ever yours, dear R. " B.x." LETTER CLIV. TO MR. MURRAY. "West all has, I believe, agreed to illustrate your book,* and 1 fancy one of the engravings « dl be from the pretty little girl you saw the other day,t though without her nanta, and merely as a model for some sketch connected with the subject. I would also have the portrait ( widen you saw to-dav) of the friend who is mentioned in the text at the close of Canto first, and m the notes — which are subjects sufficient to authorize that addiin u.' 1 Early in the spring he brought out, anonymously, his poem on Waltzing, which, though full of very lively satire, fell so far short of what was now expe^tV. from him by the public, that the disavowal of it, which, as we see by the following letter, he thought right to put fortli, found ready credence. * A new edition ofChilde Harold. t Lajly Charlotte Harley, lo whom, under the name of lanlhc, tU UnrodSetori HUM to CUlde Harold w«re afterward ■ddfUMd. LETTERS, 1813. 51 LETTER CLV. TO MR. MURRAY. "April 21, 1813 * 1 shall be in town by Sunday next, and will call and have some conversation on the subject of Westell's de- signs. I am to sit to him fur a picture at the request of a friend of mine, and as Sanders's is not a good one, you will probably prefer the other. I wish you to have Sanders^ taken down and sent to my lodgings imme- diately — before my arrival. I hear that a certain ma- licious publication on Waltzing is attributed to me. This report, I suppose, you will take care to contradict, as the author, 1 am sure, will not like that I should wear his cap and bells. Mr. Hobhouse's quarto will be out immediately ; pray send to the author for an early copy, whicfa I wish to take abroad with me. "P. S. I see the Examiner threatens some observa- tions upon you next week. What can you have done to share the wrath which has heretofore been principally expended upon the Prince? I presume all your Scribleri will be drawn up in battle array in defence of the modern Tonson — Mr. Bucke, for instance. " Send in my account to Bennet-strcet, as I wish to settle it before sailing." LETTER CLVL TO MR. MURRAY. "Maidenhead, June 13, 1813. .-■«*: 4. | ha Ve read the 'Strictures, 1 * which are just enough, and not grossly abusive, in very fair cou- plers. There is a note against Massinger near the end, and one cannot quarrel with one's company, at any rate. The author detects some incongruous figures in a pas- sage of English Bards, page 23, but which edition I do not know. In the sole copy in your possession — I mean the Jifth edition — you may make these alterations, that 1 may profit (though a little too late) by his remarks: — For 'hellish instinct,' substitute l brutal instinct;' l harpies' alter to 'felons? and for ' blood- hounds' write 'hell- hounds.'! These be 'very bitter words, by my troth,' and the alterations not much sweeter ; but as I shall not publish the tiling, they can do no harm, but are a satis- rtion to me in the way of amendment. The passage is only twelve lines. u You do not answer me about H.'s book ; I want to write to him, and not to say any thing unpleasing. If you direct to Post-office, Portsmouth, till cniled fur, I will send and receive your letter. You never told me of the forthcoming critique on Columbus, winch is not too fair; and 1 do not think justice quite done to the * Pleasures,'^ which surely entitle the author to a higher rank than that assigned him in the Quarterly. But I must not cavil at the decisions of the invisible infullibles; and the article is very well written. The general hor- ror of 'fragments' makes me tremulous for the 'Giaour;' but you would publish it — I presume, by this time, to your repentance. But as I consented, whatever be its fate, I won't now quarrel with you, even though I detect it in mv pastry ; but I shall not open a pie without apprehen- sion for some weeks. "The books which may be marked G. O. I will carry out. Do you know Clarke's Naufragia ? I am told that he asserts Hie first volume of Robinson Crusoe was written by the first Lord Oxford, when in the Tower, and given by him to Defoe : if true, it is a curious anec- dote. Have you got back Lord Brooke's MS.? and what does Heber say of it? Write to me at Portsmouth. " Ever yours, &.c. ' Oa the Stair*, by Mr. Crowe. t See Engtitli Budi. I Pounw, t>y Mr. Rog«r«. LETTER CLVII. TO MR. MURRAY. "June 18, 1813. C DEAR SIR, " Will you forward the enclosed answer to the kindest letter I ever received "in my life, my sense of which I can neither express to Mr. Giflurj himself nor to any one else. "Ever yours,, "N." LETTER CLVIII. TO W. GIFFORD, ESO.. "June 18, 1813. K MY DEAR SIR, "I feel greatly at a loss how to write to you at all — •still more to thank you as I ought. If you knew the veneration with which I have ever regarded you, long before I had the most distant prospect of becoming your acquaintance] literary or personal, my embarrassment would not surprise you. " Any suggestion of yours, even were it conveyed in the less tender shape of the text of the Baviad, or a Monk Mason note in Massinger, would have been obeyed ; I should have endeavoured to improve myself by your censure: judge then if I should be less willing to profit by your kindness. It is not for me to bandy compliments with my elders and my betters: I receive your approbation with gratitude, and will not return my brass for your gold, by expressing more fully those sen- timents of admiration, which, however sincere, would; I know, be unwelcome. " To your advice on religious topics, I shall equally attend. Perhaps the best way will be by avoiding them altogether. The already published objectionable pas- sages have been much commented upon, but certainly have been rather strongly interpreted. I am no bigot to infidelity, and did not expect that, because I doubted the immortality of man, I should be charged with denying the existence of a God. It was the comparative insig- nificance of ourselves and our world, when placed in comparison with the mighty whole, of which it is an atom, that first led me to imagine that our pretensions to eternity might be overrated. 11 This, and being early disgusted with a Calvinistic Scotch school, when I was cudgelled to church, for the first ten years of my life, afflicted me with this malady ; for, after all, it is, I believe, a disease of the mind as much as other kinds of hypochondria." LETTER CLIX. TO MR. MOORE. "June 22, 1813. ****** "Yesterday I dined in company with '* *, the Epi- cene,' whose politics are sadly changed. She is for the- Lord of Israel and the Lord of Liverpool — a vile anti- thesis of a Methodist and a Tory — talks of nothing but devotion and the ministry, and, I presume, expects that God and the government will help her to a pension. ****** ■ Murray, the aval; of publishers, the Anac of station- ers, has a design upon you in the paper line. He wants you to become the staple and stipendiary editor of a periodical work. What say you? Will you be bound, like ■ Kit Smart, to write for ninety-nine years in the Universal Visiter V Seriously, he talks of hundreds a year, and — though I hate prating of the beggarly ele- ments — his proposal may be to your honour and profit, and, I am very sure, will be to our pleasure. " I don't know what to say about ' friendship. 1 I never 5» LfcTtEfti* ttft ins m friendship but or*.'*', in my nineteenth year, and then rt gave me as much trouble as love. I am afra-M, as "VVhut.rea.rs sire said to the km;:, when be wanted to fetnght him, that I am ' too old r b>tt, nevertheless, no "bhe wishes rou more friend.*, fame, anu iefic.ty, than ■ V.mrv, &c." LETTER rr,\". to mr. moorf:. ■4,Bc..odicVmc-slreet, Si. James*;, JoN- 3. JP.3. ^ I p r esume by your silence that I li»*e blundered ihlo ^onssttnng noxious in my reply to your letter; for perls. However, you know ber; ks Srrti e,Wr, ft sefc siMe, or good-tempered ? either trowW do^-I scratch. 06* the ariEL I d-mt »*k as to her beauty, that I see, but my ctrcuiwrtati£es are aimiTrag, and were »>t my othvr pFhsfiectic blarh-t-mug, 1 would l**e a wnV, and thai should be the woman, had ! a du.;»ce. 1 do net yet know fcer much, hot better than I ifiA " I want f 6 gel away, but EaVri • Bpte wn ^ a passage ill llshfB of war. They had better In are go; if I eaaadt) n^rrotkoa is the wonl — e nay, an* they *U month, ] K rant as wed as iheyJ Now, wfaal aw yc*J doing? writkg, we'aK nope, for o«r ow» Bakes. Re* m eaJ b e r roe .unst edtu- say posthwotoiw worts, with a the which I beg fcwre to send, bifbreliasdj b iwifenkgitireofthe Anther,** which I will svod yon Confc* * Btons, dated 'Lazaretto, Smyrna, AI ana, w Palermo-- one enn die anr where. There is lube a thin? «n Tuesday yeleped a na- tiosai ,, ■ T ■ '■ geol aad * * * are to be tbW*'-, apology, which yon may apply to rfhyj «>r af r ; parts of that natortunate epistle. It' I err in my conjecture, 1 expect the like front you, bi putting our correspondence bo Ion" in quarantine. God he knows what') hwfe,dsid?r — ' . ,. also Knows, (if he is not as iitJitU -rent loinorraajl and w body I !sv, who h« sJiahnis enough for woes Hhe nemrfouW deities orLocTethis,) that von are the was DnJefe ^ guinea. Vaaafcafl b the scene— there are jrjv ( i n omen, and w b sop- posed tl.rr. wal be thr« i I • snare. The passports frf the ht-. are beVono raj aritfau a P. S. The ^Stadl htst night atHckwl m? nnM luriomrjr'~frtM that 1 had 'no right to make lo* I had used * * baibajwiaty— that I had no feeling and was * ' "*v rnscsnnNe lo ki h*He j*ts*t"«, and lift t*-va all mv 'r;-.' 1 am very glad ft hear if, but did at* know it before. Let me hear from you an:w * last person 1 want to offend. So, if 1 have, — why the devil bWl yu say it at once, and expectorate your Bpfeen) B JRogerS is onl of town with Madanls! tie SHfcei, who hath pnofished an Essaj against Suicide, which, I pre- b/u1 make sornebodr ^i»rt»t hnns'elf; as a sermon by Klmla-nsop. in jtmof <»f Christianity, sent a hitherto most orthodox acquaintance of nine out of a cfasttel of lease a pertitrt atheist. Have yna found or fouiKled a besideace fSt 3 and have you bt*y:>n or tinished a Poem? If yon won*; U-Il me what / have done, pray say what yon have done, or li-ft undone, yourself. I am still hi feeaqnoMnl f'»r royaging, and nnsjeos to heal from, or of, 'yon ti-'jbrc X po, which anxiety you should remove more readdv, as von iluuk I shan't cogitate about you after- ward. I shall jiive the he to that calumny by rifty "ronjttfn letters, particularly from any place where the tragus is rife, — without a drop of Vinegar or a whiff of sulphur to save you from infection. Pray write: I am Wry to say that * * * *- B The Oxfords have sailed almost a fortnight, and my '&ister is in town, which is a great comfort — tor, never h?.vw*g been much together, we are naturally more at- laclmt M e*i li bui'er. 1 presume tf illuminations hav cohfl.ojjra'tcd Co Derby (or wherever you arc) by this iimc. We are just recovering from tumuli, and train 'oil, and ttansparent fripperies, and all tin noise an nonsense of victory. Drury^ane had a targe 3 A 11 thought was Marshal W i-Uin-fon : irfhcrs that •t -.;\--\i\. be frnTri si atied into Manager Wnitbread; white h«- raduis oi the vicinity and the saloon c eived the .last letter to be complimentary to themselves. I leaw \his to the commentators to illuminate. If you do rfl ■ i this, I shan't say whal you deserve, but I thins ~? deserve a reoly. Do you conceive there Is no Post- TBig but fte '1 wop tuny? Sunburn me, if you are not -W bad." tdSWga CLXII. W ?ir.. AIOOKE. 'W.y?->.?fliS. * ( ora w* M TCTS«i enough in the \rtys of .stt^k) i-\ii\i> ii. imilu- much laaliaawual progteas. * * I hive been ihnins like llie dragon of Wanllrr fill th'M (tel week. My bead aches wiih ihe Vintage of varioiis cllars, and my brains are muUltxi as thtir ilrrps. I met your friends, the D * *s: she m of four b*B< BOBS ^n well, ttta*, tot fir the apticaraure of aSectauoo, 1 cenffl l-''- cried; he remiada n Hunt, If.it handsonreri - ! 1 mate musical ■> son), pat- fiap<;. 1 wish to (imi h»' tiiay conquer his ImrriUlo anonralwia cornplaiDt. The upper part of bar bee u beautiful, and she seems modi attached to her hi He is right, nevertheless, to leafthg UnstnusaoW The first wmter would MMEMy destroy her eompbaiaa) and ibe si-ro-i'l very probablv, eren ibmg - I must tell you a story. .M * ' [J WliE .'nt itic- niorv) wrt dmteg out tlu- ntlicr day, ami coni[plaitu»'j «»l" the )■•'- i - 6U6V 8 I hi old ••■ i '* * <• learned .'•■« ) bored him » iih tnajstaM^ >• why that? ■ Wh\ r did ' -it thvts /' 'Why, sir, on a-* , whl jlit >>> l« ashamed onmn-i -it '■' ' .'>".! v.hv rjoulll Lord * * to l«- aslialmd of himself?' ' Because tbo Prince, sir, * * * ' * * * * .' ' ^nrt why, sir-, did the Prmca pal .<«<« ? Krrar. ■ I jivfelt H rnV pr mcip l ra , ' 'Anil >.-V<; US vfiu sink to n.tir pi > ' a p., ■, : tVi i , i.r was piri, ,v)| J, vi consider to whom 1 I' noarh/ killed M * *. Perhaps^ou may iliink it stupid, but, as QoktaDnlh said ahi.ui Ihe pear, il was a rer, gooffjoke when ? heard h — as I did from an ear-»itness— and is only spoiled ih niv narration. "Thcsi .'T.s." s,i* with a Dandy Br-.H ; — but I toners with the Harrowbys, Rogers, and Krer'u and Mackintosh, where I shall drink your health in i silent bumper, ami regret your absence till "to* nni ~n . ,-.■ -. leSwaih kwij mj mernorv, or render it supeTalaons dj a risiorr-of yia at the npposito sidb n iisl; "Yrtitrrourcd of the table. OaMnVlg ltas tuWbandcil Ins parly ly ^rtthLady A. P.-^lmt thn > "> tfa'vnritier|-v«l*.v'»tfr. s - -* BpfeSh Trffc tit * *•* *— ft "> tn»« th»««A T'TSft CLXI. TO MR. MOOIIE. ' Julv 13, 1813. ****** * Your letter set me at ease: lor I really thought (as 'I hear 'of your susceptibility) lliat I had s:;i.l — 1 know "jjhSt w Waf f b l (SoreBIYng I should have been rery sorry Tor, had it, or I, oft'ended you ; ihoogh 1 do n't see how a man with B beaudTul wflfe, fcta >>'rn children, quiet; "fame, cempclrtiee, ami frh . nl», !"• will vouch for a thoit- rjaii.l, win. h is move than I will for a unit m n'vy own behalf) can be offended with ftritj ... (i it. v.iih.-.w, \i.. .1- i Sft f ^-n-j'y toenbea Terri' am., r I ■ i ■ ri i 1 - Yratno'urcd w LETTERS, !S!3. 53 of a Ton'. Conceive his turning them off in a formal harangue, and bidding ihem Uiink f«»r themselves. 1 have led my ra riinufrms where thry «r- well pi There e of the 150 left fchve* and they arc for the Ton ti\-rivl {<~t«rrii, might not FalstaH mean the Bow-streel officer? Idare say Match's posthumous edition wt41 !• rote last, I have bee* into the country. I y ni^lit — no incident or accident, but an alarm on the part of rny Valet on the outside, who, in ,; Epping Forest, actually, I believe, flung down hia purse befi with a glowworm in the second figure of number XIX — mistaking it for a foot- pod and dark lantern. I can oaly-athrjeute his fears to a pair of new pistols, WlH&i'ewith 1 had armed him ; and he thought it necessary to display his vigilance by cali- co me whenever we passed any thing — no matter whether moving or stationary. Conceive ten miles, with a tremor every furlong. I have scribbled you a fearfully long letter-. This sheet must be blank, and is "merely a wrapper, to preclude the tabellarians of the post from peeping. You once complained of my not Writing ; — I will heap 'coals of fire upon your head' by not complaining of your not reading. Ever, my dear Moore,your 'n, (isn 't that the Staffordshire termination ?) ft BVKOS.° LETTER CLXIII. TO MB. MOORE. "July 27, 1813. When yd>i next imitate Hfe stfjfte of 'Tacitus,' pray add, 'de moribus Germanorum ;'— this last was a piece of barbarous silence, and could only he fallen from the •Woods, and, as such, I attribute it entirely to your sylvan fenestration at May field Cottage. You will find, on Casting up accounts, that fou are Wfy Nobler by several sheets and one epistle. I shall bring my action; — if you don't discharge, expect to hear from my aitprm-y. I have forwarded your letter to Ruggiero; but do n't r Tnakc a postman of me again, for fear I should be tempted to violate .v our sanctity of wax or wafer. "Believe me ever yours, indignantly y LETTER CLXIV. TO MR. MOORE. ■July 28,1813. "Can't you be satisfied with the pangs of my jealousy tt 'Rogers, witft&BI actually making me the pander of vour epistolary intrigue? THIS is the second letter you ncJosed to my address, notwithstandmg a miracu- lous lon« answer, and a subsequent short one or two of Tout own. If you do so again, 1 can't tell to what pilch v may soar. I shall send you verse or arsenic, as'likel'v as any thins,— four thousand couplets on sheets feeyoud the privilege of (ranking; that privileg you take :m undue advantage over a too suscepli- ''ble senator, by forwarding your lucubrations to every one but himself I wont frank from you, or for you, or may I be cursed if I do, unless you Hfend yoot "manners. I disown yr-n— -1 disclaim voir— and by all the powers of&ulogy, I will write a pSnegyric upon you -_o' r dedicate a quarto — if you don't make i> amends. " P. S. I am in training to dine with Sheridan and Rogers this evening, I have a little spile against R. and Wit! shed Ins '>'l,;v wines pof&e-deepJ Tins is nearly my ultimate or pcnuJtSmate letter : for I am quite •equipped' and only wait a passage. Perhaps 1 may "Wait a few wCcW for ^Hg-r>; but not if I can help it," . LETTER CLXV. TO 3j£. CROEER. "11!. Str. August 2, 1813. DEAR MR, 'I was honoured with your unexpected and vert obliging letter when on the point of leaving London, which [iri.-vriir.-.| me from acJCBOw)edging my obligation as quickly as I felt it sincerer/i I am endeavouring all ower to be ready before Saturday — and even if I should not succeed, I can only blame my own tardi- ness, which will not the less enhance the benefit I have lost. I have only to add my hope of forgiveness for a". 00 your time and patience, and with my best wisnes lor your public and private welfare, I have the honour to be, most truly, u Vour obliged and most obedfent servant, ■Br*©*/ The following notes to Mr. Murray, have reference to a fifth edition <>f the "Giaour" then in press. Tire poem first appeared in the May preceding, and contained originally but about four hundred lines, and was gradu- ally increased through successive editions to its present number, nearly fourteen hundred. In a note which ac- companied the manuscript of the paragraph commencing " Fair clime, where every season smiles," he says, ( I have not yet fixed the place of insertion for the following lines, but will when 1 sec you. 9 The whole portion from the line lown tb ' For there the rose o'er crag and Tale,' ' Snd'TVrm to groans his roundelay,' was inserted during the revision of the proo&- The passage stood originally thus : — " Pairelbnel wlicre ceascfess summer srnflea I ■ igoaut o'er those blessed isles, Which, seen from far Ootonna'l height. Make glad the bean that hails Uie sight, And gitt to loneliness delight. There whine the bright abode* y* »e«t, Like d"tj'lr» upon Ocean 1 » cheek,-~ So uniting round the vuttrt lace These Kdena of the eastern wave. Or if, 81 tunes, the transient Lireeie Break ihe emooih crystal ol Uie *ear, Or bntf/i one bltt ■■■ trees, How giale/ui is ihe gentle air Thai waki-a ami waits Uie fragrance iher*.^ Tlie several passages beginning — " He who Imth bent him o'er the dead :" "'the cygnet proudly walks lite Water:" and " My memory now is but the tomb:" were added to the fourth edition, between wliich aim the first, riffly sh weeks intervened. The verses commencing — " The browsing camels' bells are tinkling :* and the passage "Yes, love Indeed ia lieht from heaven," were inserted in the fifth edition, and subsequently lh following — " She wa* a form of life and liehl. That. BUSD, became a part of sight, And roar;, where'er I ium*d mine eye, The Monuiig-stnr of memory 1" "If you send more proof, I shall never finish this in- fernal ston- — ' Ecce signum' — thirty-three lines more enclo ed! to the utter discomfiture of the printer, and, I liar, nut lo.your advantage. "E." 64 LETTERS, ISIS. ■ Half-j.ast two in the morning, Aug. 10, 1813. " DEAR SIR, "Pray suspend the proofs for I am bitten again, ami have quantities for other parts of the hravura. "Yours ever, H B- •P. S. You shall have them in the course of the day." LETTER CLXVI. TO MR. MURRAY. "Aug. 26, 1813. ■ I have looked over and corrected one proof, but not so carefully (God knows if you can read it through, but 1 can't) as to preclude your eye from discovering some omission of mine or commission of your printer. If you have patience, look it over. Do you know any body who can stop — I mean point — commas, and BO toi > for I am, I hear, a sail hand at your punctuation. I have, but with some difficulty, riot 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 Childe Harold, 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. 1 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. * * * * " I was quite sorry to hear you say you stayed in town on my account, and I hope sincerely you do not mean so superfluous a piece of politeness. a Our sir critiques! — -they would have made half a Quarterly by themselves; but this is the age of criticism." The following refer apparently to a still later edition. LETTER CLXVII. TO MR. MURRAY". "Stilton, Oct. 3,1813. R 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 fur Solitude to share. Now to share implies more than one, and Solitude is a single gentleman ; it must be thus — " For many a gilded chamber 'b there, WMcb Solitude might well forbear ; and so on. — My address is Aston -Hall, Rotherham. "Will you adopt this correction? and pray accept a Stilton cheese from me for your trouble. "Ever yours, a B. tt "If* the old line stands, let the other run thus — " Nor then will weary irnveller halt, To Mens the nu.red bread and tall. "JVote. — 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. "P. S. I leave this to your discretion; if any body thinks the old line a good one, or the cheese a bad one, do n't accept either. But, in that case, the word stiare is repeated soon after in the line— " To share the master's bread aud salt j and must be altered to — " To break the master's bread and •all. This is not so well, though — confound it!" LETTER CLXVIII. TO MR. Ml'KRAV. "Oct. 12, 1813. "You must look the Giaour again over carefully; there are a few lapses, particularly in the last page.— ' I know *t was false ; she could not die ;' it \\ a ought to be — 'I Anew.' Pray observe this and similar mistakes. "I have received and read the British Renew. I really think the writer in most points very right. The only mortifying thing is the accusation of imitation. Crahbes 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 ( ,i.! ,iu is ■ i-riatnly a bad character, hut not dangerous ; and I think his fate and his feelings will meet with few pn.selvles. I shall be very glad to hear from or of you, when you please; but do n't put yourself out of your way on my account." 1 Tiiis is written on a separate slip of paper enclosed. LETTER CLXIX. TO MR. MOORE. K Bennet-street, Aug. 22, 1813. ****** "As our late — I might say, deceased — correspondence had too much of the town-life leaven in it, we will now ' paulo majora,' prattle a little of literature in all its branches; and first of the first — criticism. The Prince is at Brighton, and Jackson, the boxer, gone to Margate, having, I believe, decoyed Yarmouth to see a milling in that polite neighbourhood. Mad p . de Stael Holsteui has lost one of her young barons, who has been car- bonadoed by a vile Teutonic adjutant, — kilt and killed in a coffee-house at Scrawsenhawsen. Oorinne is, of course, what all mothers must he, — but will, I venture to prophesy, do what few mothers cold — write an Essay upon it. She cannot exist without a grievance — and somebody to see, or read, how much grief becomes |n-r. I have not seen her since the event ; but merely judge (not very charitably) from prior observation. u In a ' mail-coach copy' of the Edinburgh, I perceive the Giaour is 2d article. The numbers are still in the Leith smack — prut/, which way is the wind 1 The said article is so very mild and sentimental, that it must be written by Jeffrey in love; — you know he is gone to America to man v some fair one, of whom he has been for several quatiert t fyerdutneni amoureiuo. Seriously — as Winifred Jenkins gays of Lismahagp— Mr. Jeffrey (or his deputy) 'has done the hands. .me thing by me,* and I say nothing.* But this 1 will say, — if you and I had knocked one another on the head in this quarrel, how he would have laughed, and what a mighty had figure we should have cut in our posthumous works. By-the-by, I was called in the other day to meditate between two gentlemen bent upon carnage, and, — after a long struggle between the natural desire of destroying one's fellow-creatures, and the dislike of seeing men j. lav the fool for nothing, — I got one to make an apology, and the other to take it, and left them to live happy ever after. One was a peer, the other a friend untitled, and both fond of high 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 * See Duu Juau, Canto X. slauia IS, LETTERS, 1813. 55 very well, and I put them out of pain as soon as 1 could. ****** "There is an American Life of G. F. Cooke, Scurra deceased, lately published. Such a book ! — 1 believe, since Drunken Barnaby's Journal, nothing like it has drenched the press. All green-room and !ap-room — drums and ihe drama — brandy, whisky-punch, and, bit- terly, toddy, overflow every page. Two things are rather marvellous — first, that a man should live so long drunk, and, ne\t, that he should have found a sober bio- grapher. There are some very laughable things in ii, nevertheless : — bul 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 davs 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 line to ' Bright as thr jewel of Gtemachid ;' "—which he accordingly did In the following ediU >o. I S*a Itcutau and fiailh. pi 56 LETTERS, 1313. there is *Casie n an's Maura des Ottomans,* the beat compendium of the kind 1 ever met will), in six small tunics. I am realty taking a liberty by talking in tins style to my 'elders and my betters;' — pardon it, and do o't Itockcfoucault my motives." LETTER CLXXI. TO Mil. MOORE. "August — September, 1 mean — I, 1*13. * I sen! you, begging your acceptance, Castellan, and thr^e vols, on Turkish Literature, not yet looked into. The last I will thank yon to read, extract what you want, and return in a week, as they are lent to me by that brightest of northern constellations, v.: ntoBh,— among many other kind things into milch India has warmed him, for 1 am sure your Iwmc Scotsman is of a less genial description. " Your Pen, mv 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 flat- tering that I begin to think myself a very fine fellow. But you are laughing at me — 'stop mv vitals, Tarn! thou art a very impudent person ;' and, if you are not laughing at ma, you deserve to be laughed at. Serious- ly, what on earili ran you, or have you, to dread from any poetical flesh breathing? It really puts me out of humour to hear vou talk thus. * * * * * * * "The 'Giaour* I have added to a adone. But they sav the devil is amusing when pleased, in I I must have been more venomous than the old ser- pent, to have hissed or stun • in your company- It may he, and would appear to a third person, an incredible thing, but I know you will believe me when I say that 1 am as anxious for your success as one human being can he for another's, — as much as if I had never scribbled a line. Surely the field of fame is wide enough fi)r 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 come thousand acres there, and when you have passed your present Enclosure Hill, 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 in- BOminode 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,* which will lot you into the origin of ' the Giaour.' Write soon. "Ever, dear Moore, yours most entirely, &c. * The following bttttT uf Lor. I BQgOi "Albany, Monday, Aug. 31, 1813. " My iji'nr Hymn, " Vou have requested m« to (••H you all ttmi l hnrd ai Athens niiom (tie affair ul ihiil gi>l w lio win k> near heuig [ml an mil to white you win Umn; you have naked mi to rdention •vary tin imetence, in the re test degree relating i" It. which i hourd. In compliance with jrour wishes, l w. in- to >"» nil I board) and I cannot iQiqguie n in l«- lei y far I'rom ihe foci, u> the circumstance happened only a da* or two before I arrived ot Athena, ami ooniequenUy wai * raauor of aonuson eoovenaUdn nt the It me. " The now governor, unaccustomed io have lite same intereourti with th#- Christiana *• Mi predaeaeeor, had o) u m Turkish idem with regard io women. In consequence and in MMnplIancc with the itrlci letter ot Ihe Mal imedan law, heord i tills lirttn ba sewed up in a taeJti and thrown into the ih, — as i», indeed, q . marj ai Constant pic A* vou «<"« returning from bin hinglti the Pli mai the proi esslon going down lo mm wte Ihe senteiu ■ "i the Waywodi on this unfortunate gfrf. Report < oniiuuei to sav, that en nmilne out wii it the object ol 1 1 ioi i Jo. ey w.n, j ml wlio wai ins mitcrahU; sufferer, you immadfetely Interfered ; and on tome delay In obeying your orders, J ou wcru ohligeit '.o inform ihe leader of the escort, that i iree should make im comply; — thnt, on Farther hesitation! yotidrcw ■ pistol, and told him, that fi* In; did not Immediately obey your orderst and come back with yon io tin) Aga's house, you would shoot him dead. On tail, turned about and went with vou locha gnYernoj , 's house) ban you sue* ce*ded, ponlj by persooMtortlU, anditartly by bribery uu>i entreaty, * P. S. This letter was written to me on account oft diff'eretu story circulated by some wen: lew omen of our acquaintance, a litde too close to the text* The part erased contained merely some Turkish names, and cir* cumstantiaJ evidence o£tha £iri's detection, not very un .jtovtaut or decorous;" LETTER CI. XXII. TO Mil. MOOIIE. "Sept. 5,1813. ° xou need not tie yourself down to a day with Tode* rini, but send him at your leisure, having anatomized bird into such annotations as you want ; [ do not believe that he has ever undergone (h it process before, which is the best reason for nousparing him now. i rs 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 vou fight, and me (the milkiest of nun) a satirist, an I will end by mak- ing Rogers madder than Ajax. I have been reading Memory again, the other day, and Hope together, and retain all my preference of the former. His elegance is really wonderful — there is no such thing asa vulvar line in his book. * * * * " A'liai say you to Buonaparte? Remember, I buck him against the field, barring Catalepsy and the Ele- ments. Kay, 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 rebellions bastard of Scandinavian adoption, Bernadotte. Rogera wants me to go with him on a crusade to die Lake-, aiid ■ you on our way. This last is a greal tation, but I fear it will not he in mv power, unless v >u would yo on with one of us somewhere — no matter where, [i is too late for Matlock, but we might hit upon some scheme, high life or low, — the last would be much 1 for amusement. I am so sick of the. other, that I quite sigh tot a cider-cellar, or a cruise in a smuggler's sloop. "You cannot wish more than I d'» that the Fft!cs were a little more accommodating to our p&fitH which prolong ad in5nitum without coming a jot the nearer. I almost wish I were married too^ — which is saying much. AH my friends, seniors and juniors, are in for it, and ask me to be godfather, — the only specie* of parentage which, I believe, will ever come to oir share in a lawful way; and, in an unlawful one, by the blessing of LucUia, we can never be certain, — though the parish may. I suppose I thai] hear from you to-morrow. If not, this goes as ll hi; bul 1 leave room for a P. S., in case any thing requires an answer. Ever, &c. " .\o letter — n^importe. Rogers thinks the Quarterly ill be at rru tins time : if io, it shall be a war of extol* mination — no quarter , I'rom the youngest devil down io the oldest woman of thai Review, all shall perish by one fatal lampoon. The ties of nature shall bo torn asunder, fur I will nut even -pure my bookseller; nay, if one were io include readers also all the belter.'' LETTER CLXX1II. TO 41 K. MOO&E. "Sept. 8,1813 1 1 am sorry to see Tod, again so soon, for fear your to procure her |>nrrfoo *n roiiitW.n nf hir laavtfli Athens. I snss laid that ""' then i onteyed her i» safely to the eonvi tit, and despatched hit off ai iiinui tu Thebes t whert ihe found a » de ssrlutn, Sudi It the storj heard, ■■ nearly ae I aan raeoHeci 1< at (iweat. Should sou «Hsh tc «li in. any furtiMrquMUoui ubuui it, 1 shall be very ready uml willui |0 Jiitwor tltctn. " l remain, i"r Sear Hyroo, "»■■■. hi, »eir sincrrpty, "STJGOt I sjn afraid fou *tll tisrdlrhc »'■!*■ to rfs.l tin* seraw] \ liut I nm so hurried * a\< thopn |taraUuf>( '•" my Journey, thai j?ou mueleacuH lu' LETTERS, 1813. 57 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 proei .red mt- 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 Mack- intosh. My dear Moore, you strangely underrate 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, 't is a fault that generally mend: 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 mends die jaundice. " Yesterday I had a letter from Ali Pacha I brought by Doctor Holland, who is just returned from Albania. It is in Latin, and begins * ExceUemissime, nee 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 was by the Bulgarian cavalry. He takes the town, selects all the survivors of this exploit — children, grandchildren, &c. to the tune of six hundred, and has them shot before his face. Recollect, he s[>ared the rest of the city, and confined himself to the Tarquin pedigree, — which is more than I would. Ho much for ' dearest friend.' n LETTER CLXXIV. TO MR. MOORE. "Sept. 9,1813. ■ I write to you from Murray's, and I may sav, from Murray, who, if you are not predisposed in favour of any other publisher, would be happy to treat with you, at a fit- ting time, for your woik. I can safely recommend him, as (air, liberal, and attentive, and certainly, in point of reputa- tion, he stands among the first of 'the trade.' I am sure lie would do you justice. I have written to you so much lately that you will be glad to see so little now. Ever, &c. &c. v LETTER CLXXV. TO MR, MOORE. "Sept. 27, 1813. 6 THOMAS MOORE, a (Thou wilt never be called 'true Thomas,' like he of Ercikloune,) why don't you write to me ? — as you won't, I must, I was near you at Aston the other dav, 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 ine for accomplices. Yesterday, at Holland-house, I was intro- duced to Southey — the best-Ior>king 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 lunk on, and a man uf talent, and all that, and — there is his eulogy. k* * readmeportof a letter from you. By the foot of Pharaoh, I bebeve there was abuse, for he Stopped short, so he did, after a tine saying about our evnspaudence, and looked — 1 wish I could revenge myself by stacking vou, or by telling you that I have had to defend you — an agreeable v av which onefa friends have of reconnnendnig themselves, bv saying— •* Av, ay, / gave it Mr. Such-a-one f -r what he paid 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 die reverse ; — and do you suppose I will forgive Outt? * I have betn in the country and ran away from the Doncaster races. It is odd, — I was a visiter in the sam>' house which came to my sire as a residence with Lad- Carmarthen (with whom he adulterated bofore his major n \ 8 — by-tlie-by, remember, she was not my mamma) — and they thrust me into an old room, widi a nauseous picture over the chimney, which I should suppose my papa regarded with due respect, and which, inheriting the family taste, I I *>kcd upon with great satisfaction. I stayed a week with the family, and behaved very well — though the lady of the house is young, and religions, and pretty, and the master is my particular friend. I fell 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.' "Ever yours, b Bn. "Here's an impromptu for yon by a 'person of quality ,* wriuen last week, on being reproached for low spirits. " When from the heart where sorrow sits,* &e. LETTER CLXXVI. TO MR. MOORE. "Oct. 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 supercibous. I have met Curran at Holland-housej — he beats every body ; — his imagination is beyond human, and his humour (it is di/licult 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 Sca- mander. He is quite fascinating. Remember, I have met him but once ; and you, who have known him long, may probably deduct from my |>anegyric. I almost fear to meet him again, lest the impression should be lowered. He tallied 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 htm. On Sunday I return to * *, where I shall not be far from you. Perhaps I shall hear from you m the mean time. Good night. "Saturday morn. — Your letter has cancelled all my anxieties. I did not moped yon in earnest-. Modest again ! Because I don't do a very shabby tiling, 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 mv rum To forgive. To- day I dine with Mackintosh and Mrs. Stale — as John Bull may be pleased to denominate Coriime — whom I saw last night, ai Covent -garden, vawninL'"ver the humour of FalstarE The reputation of 'gloom,' if one's friends are not in- cluded in the reputant&i is of great service ; as it saves ono from a legion of unpertHients, in the shape of commonplace acquaintance. But thou kriowest I can be a right merry and conceited fellow, and rarely Marmovant.' Murray shall reinstate your line forthwith.} I believe the blunder in the motto was mine ; and yet I have, in general, a memory fit? ymt, and am sure it was riglitlv printed at first. I do ' blush 1 very often, if I may believe Ladies H. and M. — but luckily, at present, no one sees me. Adieu." LETTER CLXXVII. TO MR. MOORE. a Nov. 30, 1813. ^ ■ Since I last wrote lo you, much has occurred, good, bad» • See Poems, p. 189. 1 Sec Memornudumt. p. 266. J The motto to the Giiioirr. which ie taken from one nf the Irish Mc!o Hei, bad been quoted l>» him incorrectly in tha first editions of the Poem. ■V marie afterward a similar mislaid* it. the liuu from Buroi pnefliol to i he Bride ofA^do*. 59 LETTERS, 1813. and indifferent, — not to make me forget yott, but to prevent mo 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 il has proved to me. Suffice i) to say, that yur French quotation was confoundedly to the pur- pose, — though very unexpectedly pertinent, as you may ima- gine by what I s,ad before, and my silence since. * * * However,' Richard s himself again,' and, except all nighl and some part of the morning, I don't think very much about the matter. K All convulsions end with me in rhyme ; and to solace my midnights, I have scribbled another Turkish story* — not a Fragment — which you mil receive soon after this. It does not trench upon your kingdom in the least, and, if it did, you would soon miner me to my proper boundaries. You will Uiink, and justly, that I run some risk of losing the tittle I have gained in fame, by Alia further experiment on public patience; but I have really ceased to care on that bead. I have written this, and published it, for die sake of the em- ployment, — to wring my thoughts from reality, and take refuge in 'imagining^ however ' horrible;' and, as to su<, ess! 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 sec how a Dutch canal looks, after the Bosphorus. Pray respond." ' Mr. it ray, - l.iv be the best; or, if nritli .-ill dream another." In tin Ions peeuge Ju*i r hoomc which of II WFtll ■TheBrtdeoTAbjdw. To ink poem ha made uldltlmu. in ihe course of printing, amounting altogether to near two hundred line*; ami inn opening line*, " Know ye the land," 4c— supposed to have been suggest- eel lo him by a snug of Goethe's, — wen among the number of thOH new beertlent, a* were alao those rereea, ■■ \\ be bath not proved . woids essay," 4c. Haying, at firal, written the line in stanza 6, " Mum! on her tip end music In tier face," he afterward altered it to — " The mind of music breathing In her face.'* But, loll nOtaaUafylng him, the next step of correction bronchi the line lu wli.a it is at present — " The mind, the moak breathing from her face." The whole passage which follows— " Thou, my ZuhMka, share ami Hess my bark," was sent in successive scraps to the printer, correction following correc The line, " And linla to-morrow with prophetic ray," was oiighmlly an airy " And tints to-morrow with a fancied ray," the following note being annexed the two ftplthi la. ' fancied, do, till me, and I to, the six Inns beginning " Bleat .m the Muenia oeen despatched to the primer too late for liMerlion, wi added In an errata page; the Oral couplet m lu original form, being as follows: — " Soft us the Mecca-Muezzin's strains Invite Him who htith Journey 'd tar to join the rtfe." t off, containing the Unas "Blest ee (he Mnenin'a strain from Mecca'*, dome, \\ bichweaeomce Faith to view bei Prophet's tomb," with the following note to Mr. Murray:— .,_ . . . _ , " December 3d, t8I3. Lookout in the Encyclopedia, article M'eca, whetlier it is there or at Mrdiw the Prophet is entombed. If at Medina, the lir»t lines of my •iteration must run— " Blatl u the call which from Medina*! dome Invites Devotion to bei Prophet's tomb, 4c." If at Mecca, the lines may stand as Ufore. Page 43, rnnlo »I, IJride of Abydoi. ■• Your* "B " You will find this out either by arlirlo Mecca, Medina, vied. 1 have uo book of reference by inc." Immediately alter succeeded another note:— " Did you lookout? Is it Medina or Mecca thnt contains the Hotv Sepulchre? Don't mnke ma buupbema by rnur Oagllgcnce. I have no LETTER CLXXVIII. TO LEIGH HUNT. "4, Bcnnct-street, Dec 2, 1615. 8 MY DEAR SIR, ■ Few things could be more welcome than your nolo ; and on Saturday mornmg I will avail myself of v our per- mission to thank you for it in \ rson. My time has not been passed, since we met, either profitably or agn A very short period after my last visit, with which} I fear, you are nut unacquainted, aa report, in many mouths and mure dian one paper, was busy with the topic. That, naturally, gave me much uneasiness. Then I Dearly incurred a lawsuit on die 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 forgetfuiness of a mind oc- cupied by what is called pleasure, (not in the true sen* of Epicurus,) lhat 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 lhat our acquaintance, or, if you picas* (6 accept it, friendship, may be permanent 1 have been lucky enough to preserve some friends from a very earlv period, and 1 hope, as I do not (at leasl now) select them li shall not lose them capriciously. I have a thorough i for that independence of spirit which you have maiiitamed with sterling talent, and at die expense of some sui You have not, I trust, abandoned the poem you wen com- posing, when Moore and 1 partook of your hospitality m the Bummer. 1 hope a lime will come when he and I may be able to repay you in kind fur die loiter — for the rhyme, at least in qu/mttty, you are in arrear to both. *■ Believe me very truly and adectionatelv yours, "IJv'ilON" ■ Muham- book «f reference, or I would save vou the troubl A-Iusaulman, lo have confused the point. I htu*h as a good " Yours, Notwithstanding all these various changes, the couplet In Question aude. at nresent, thus: — " Ji, lert a * thp Mueiilna strain from Mecca's wall To pilgrims pure and pruetratcal his call." LETTER CLXXIX. TO MR. MOORE. "Dec. 8, 1813. 8 Your letter, like all the best, and even kindest, things in Uiis world, is both painful an 1 pleasing. But, first, to what sits nearest Do you know I was actually about to dedicate to you, — not inafirmal 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, die recollection of your strict injunctions of secrecy as to die said Poem, more than once repeated by word and letter, flashed upon me, and marred my intents. I couid have no motive f »r repressing my own desire of alluding to you, (and not a day passes mat 1 do not flunk and talk of you.) but an idea that you might, yourself dislike it 3 ou '■.io!i..i,|uiit l i m y sll!( . rr ,. ;il | ull(;i:i ,, tli „ :ilvlM ^ 1)( . rsii|| . i , rrUi||tl _ ship forths present, which, by-the-by, is not leas skit deep-rooted, I have you by rote and by heart; of which l:imi " r When I was at * +, on im first visit,] have a halm, in passing my time a good deal alone, oP-J ■ " " '■■" "■' i '■' thaj I never attempl except to my- self— bul ol uttering to what r think tunes, your 'Oh breathe not,' ■ When the last glimpse, 1 and 'Wheahewho adores thee, with uih.-rs ol the same minstrel ^-they are n tins artd vespers. I assuredly did not intend diem 'to bo overheard, btn, one morning in comes, not La Donna, but II Marito, with a very grave face, saying, 'Byron, J most re- quest you won't sing any more, at "least of those boosts.' I stand, and said, 'Certainly, but why?— JTo teD you the truth,' quoth he, 'they make my woe cry, and so melancholy, that I wish her to hear no more of diem.' Now, my dear Moore, the effect must have been from your words, and certainly not my music. 1 merely mention this foolish story, to show you how much I am indebted to you for even your pastimes. A man may praise an I praise, but uo one recollects but Uiat which pleases— at I.KTTEKS, 1813. 59 least^ in composition. Though I think no one equal to yon in that department, or in satire, — and surely no one was ever so |K>|iular in both, — I certainly am of opinion that yon have not yet done all you can do, though more than enough tor anv one else. I « ant, and the world expects, a longer work from you ; and I see in vou what I never saw m poet before, a strange diffidence of your own powers, which I cannot account for, and which must be unaccountable, when a CV+- sac 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 hetter poem than mvown, but which, I yet hope, this clashing will not even now deprive, them of. Mine is the work of a week, written, why I have part ly,t old 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 inter- fere 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 1 and su'.h 'horrid mysteries.' The only advantage I have is being on the spot ; and that merely amounts to saving me die trouble of turning over books, which I had better read a _m ii i . If your cfiamber was furnished in the same way, y ou have no need to go there to describe — I mean only as to ac- curacy — 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.' Ex- cept the Post Bag (and surely you cannot complain of a want of success there,) you have not been regularly out for tome years. No man stands higher, — whatever you may Mnk on a rainy day, in your provincial retreat. 'Aucun i.uld curve, the d»y> It must be — " And mourn — I dure not curw — the day Thai saw my B06iarj bffth, ft*C. it. "Ever yours, u B. a In the last MS. lines sent, instead of 'living heart,' convert to 'quivering heart.' It is in the line 9th of the IV1S. passage. " Ever yours again, " B." NOTE TO MR. MURRAY. "Alteration of a line in Canto second. Instead of— " And links to-morrow with a fancied ray, " And linta to-morrow wilh frrophelie my. " The evening beum ihul imilrt the cluurti awny, And tints lo-murrow witli jiroylietic my ; gilds • A nd tliili the hope of morning with its ray ; " And gilds lo-morrow's lioj* with heavenly ray. 8 1 wish you would ask Mr. Gilford which of them is best, or rather not worst. " Ever, &c. " You can send the request contained in this at the earn*- tune with the revise, after I have seen the suid re' vise" WOTE TO MR. HURRAY. "Nov. 13, 1813. "Certainly. Do you suppose that no one but the Galileans are acquainted with Adam, and /'it, and Cain,* and JVoahf Surely, I might have had Solomon, and Abraham] and David, and even Moses. When von know that Zuleika is the Persian poetical name for Potiphars wife, on whom and Joseph there is a long pm in, in (he Persian, this will not surprise von. If you want authority, look at Jones, D'Herbelot, Vathck, or the notes to the Arabian Nights; and, if you think it necessary, model this into a noie.f "Alter, in the inscription, 'the most affectionate re- spect,' to 'with every sentiment of regard and respect." 1 BOTE TO MR. MURRAY. "Nov. 14, 1813. "I send you a note for the ignorantgt but I really wonder at finding you among them. 1 don't care one lump of sugar for my poetry ; hut for my costume and mv correctness on those points {of which I (Junk the funeral was a proof,) I will combat lustily. " Yours, &c. n "Nov. 14, 1813. "Let the revise which I sent just now (and not the proof in Mr. Gifford's possession) be returned to the printer, as there are several additional corrections, and two new lines in it. "Yours, &c." Some doubt had been evuresned by Mr. Murray nt lo the propriety n hi» puttlos the name of Cain into the mouth of a MunuUnaii. t See note 3(1, (o the Bride of Abydai. I &)• note 28, to the Undu of At>>-do*. LETTER CLXXX1II. TO Mil. MURRAY. "Nov. 15, 1813. ' Mr. Hodgson has looked over and stopped, or rather pointed) this revise, which must In- the one to print from. He has also made bouk suggestions, wilh most ol which I have complied, as he Lis always, for these ten years, been a very sincere, and by no means (at Hiik-s) flatter" m r ', intimate of mine, lie likes it (you will think ./later* inghff in tins instance) better than the Giaour, but doubts (and so di* 1) its being so popular, but, CCA to some others, advises a separate publication. On this we can easily decide. 1 confess I like the duuUe form better. Hodgson sayet « 's fatter versified than any of the others; which is odd, if true, as it has cost me less time (though more hours at a lime) than ^ny attempt I ever made. "P. S. Do attend to the punctuation: I can't, for 1 don't know a comma — at hast, where 10 place one. w That tory of a printer has omitted two lines uf the opening, and perhaps more, which were in the MS. Will you, pray, give him a hinl ofaccuracy .' 1 have re inserted the two, but ihey were in the man user ipi, 1 can swear." LETTER CLXXX1V. TO MR. MURRAY. "Nov. 17,1813. " That you and I may distinctly understand each other on a subject, which, like 'the dreadful reckoning when men smile no more,' makes conversation not wry plea- sant I think it as well to arte 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 lo recede, that we would discuss the point at Christmas. The new story may or may not succeed ; the probability, under present circum- s'ances, seems to be, that it may at least pay its ex penses ; but even that remains lo be proved, and till II is proved one way or another, we will say nothing abort it. Thus then be it : I will postpone all arrangement about it, and the Giaour also, till Easter, 1^14; and you shall then, according to your own notions of fairness, make your own oiler for trie two. At tin- same time, I on not rate the last in my own estimation at half the Giaour; and according to your own notions of its worth and jts success within the time men tinned, be tin- addition or deduction to or from whatever sum may be your pro- posal f>r the first, which has already had Its buccoss. ■ The pictures of Phillips I consi eras mine, all three and the one (not the Aniaoni) of the two best is much at your service, if you will accept it as a present. " P. S. The expense of- engraving from tlie miniature send me in mv account, as it was destroyed by mv de- sire; and have the goodness to burn that delegable print from it immediately, 11 To make yon some amends f >r eternally pestering you with alterations, I send you Cobbett, to confirm your orthodoxy. "One more alteration of a into the in the MS.; it must be — ' The heart whose so/mesa,' &c. "Remember — and in the inscription 'to the Right Honourable Lord Holland,' without the previous names, Henry, &.c." NOTE TO MR. MURRAY. "Nov. 20, 1813. "More work for the Row. I am doing my be** to beat the 'Giaour*— no difficult task fur any one but the author." LETTERS, 1S13. 61 JSOTE TO Mil, MURRAY. "Nov. 22^1813. ■ I have DO time lo cross-in v estimate, but I believe and hop< all is rigliU 1 care less than you "ill believe about its suc- cess, but I cant survive a single misprint: it c/toftesmetosee words misused by the printers. Pray look over, in case of some eyesore escaping me. Li P. S. Send the earliest copies to Mr. Frere, Mr. Can- lr. Heber, Mr. Gilford, Lord Holland, Lord Mel- bourne (Whitehall,) Lad'.' Caroline Lamb (Brocket,) Mr. ■ii (Cambridge,) Mr. Merivale, Mr. Ward, from the author." NOTE TC MR. MURRAY. "Nov. 23,1813. * You wanted some reflections, and I send you per Selim (see his speech in Canto 2d, page 46,) eighteen lines in de- cent couplets, of a pensive, if not an ethical tendency. One more revise — positively the last, if decently done — at any rate the penultimate. Mr. Cannings approbation (if he did ap- prove) I need not sav makes me proud. As to printing, [Mint as you will and how you will — by itself, if you like; but l«-t me have a few copies m sheets. "Nov. 24, ISIS. ■You must pardon me once more, as it is ail for your good: it must be thus — " He mattes a solitude, and calls it peace. Ulakes* is closer to the passage of Tacitus, from which the line is taken, and is, besides, a stronger word than Heaves. 1 ' Mark where his carnage and his conquest* cease, lie make* .1 solitude, and caJU ii — peace." LETTER CLXXXV. TO MR. MUKRAV. s Nov.27, 1813. ■Js" you look over this carefully by the last proof 'with mv corrections it is probably right; this you can do as well or better; — I have not now lime. The copies I mentioned to be sent to different friends last night, I should wish to be made up widi the new Giaours, if it al^o is ready. If not, send the Giaour afterward, "The Morning Post says / am the author of Nourjahad!! This cornea of len ling 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 melohaine (whosever it is, and I am sure I don't know) is as good. as an advertisement for your Eastern Bti ■ •. by filling their heads with glitter. " P. S. You will of course say the truth, that I am not the nielod amatsl — if any one charges me in your presence with Uie ■performance." LETTER CLXXXVI. TO MR. MURRAY. •Nov. 28, 1613. "Send another copy (ifnottoomuchof a request) to Lady Il'J'awd of the Journal* in mv name, when you receive ibis; i*. is f-r Earl Qrey — and I will relinquish mv awn. Abo, to Mr. Sharpe,and Lady Holland, and Ladv Caroline Lamb, copies of 'The Bride,' as soon as convenient. - P, S. Mr. Ward and myself still continue our purpose ; but I shall not trouble you on any arrangement on the score of the (iiaour and the Bride till our return — or, at anv rate, before -T/iny, 1814 — that is, six months from hence: and be- fore that time you will be able to ascertain how far your offer may be a losing one ; if so, you can deduct propor- uonably ; and if not, I shall not at any rate allow you to go • Fenro#e'« Journal, a book publiaoed by Mr. Murray at thi» time. higher than your present proposal, which is very handsome, and more than fair.* H I have had— but this must be cntre nous, — a very kind note, on the subject of ' the Bride/ From Sir James Mack- intosh, and an invitation to go ihere this evening, which it is now too late to accept," NOTE TO MR. MURRAY. "Nov. 29, 1813. "Sunday — Monday morning — 3 o'clock — in my doublet and hose, swearing, tt I send you in time an errata page, containing an omis- sion of mine 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 m 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 copyholdrrs. 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'AUeniagne will act as an opiate, but I doubt it." NOTE TO MR. MURRAY. B Nov. 29, 1813. "' You have looked at it P 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. 11 1 am very sorry to hear of the fall of Dresden." LETTER CLXXXVIL TO MR. MURRAY. "Nov. 29, 1813, Monday. 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. 1 have many things 1 wish to leave to your care, principally papers. The vases need not be now sent, as Mr. Ward is gone to Scotland. You are right about the enata page ; place it at the beginning. Mr. Perry is a little premature in his coro- pfiments ; these may do harm by exciting expectation, and I think we ought to be above it — though I see the next para- graph i< on the Journal^ which makes me suspect you as the author of both. " Would it not have been as well to have said ' in Two Cantos' in the advertisement? they will else think of frag~ meats, 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 d — d to it,) for the Giaour is but a string of passages, and Chiide Harold is, and I rather think always will be, unconcluded. I return Mr. Hay's note, with thanks to him and you. "Tlu-re have been some epigrams on Mr. Ward: one I see to-day. The first I did not see, but heard yesterday The second seems very bad. I only hope that Mr. Ward does not believe that I had any connexion with either. I like and value him too well to allow my poliiics to contract into spleen, or to admire any thing intended to annoy him or his. You need not take the trouble to answer tliis, as 1 shall see you in the course of the afternoon. "P. S. I have said this much about the epigrams, because I lived so much in the opposite camp, and, from my post as an engineer, might be suspected as the (linger of these hand- grenadoes; but with a worthy foe, I am all for open war, and not tliis bush-fisbting, and have not had, nor will have, any thing to do with it. I do not know the author." • Mr. Murray had offered him a thousand guinea* for the two foaiW. t Pewoae'a Journal. 62 LETTERS, IS13- NOTE TO MR. MURRAY. "Nov. 30, .1813. B Print this at the end of all thai W of the ' Bride vf Jbydo^ as an errata page. «». ■Omitted, canto 2d, page 47, after line 449, " So ihfri llwse arms cling cliwtr round my "'eck, Read,— » Tlien If my lin oiirr murmur, It mm; t>« No ai^li for sutetjr , bol a umycr fur line I" NOTE TO MR. MURRAY. 14 Tuesday evening Nov. 30, 1813. ■For the sake of correctness, particularly in tin 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. 1 fqund out murmur to he a neuter vcrh t and have I" < n obliged tu alter the line so as to make it a substantive] thus — " Tin- deepest murmur of this lip shall be Nuaigh for wfety, but u prayer for thee I Don't send the copies to the country till this is all right." MITE TO MR. Ml'ltRAY. "Dec. 2, 1813. When you can, let the couplet enclosed he inserted either in die page, or in the errata page. I trust it is in time for some of the copies. This all-ration is in die same part- the page but one before the last correction sent. "P. s. I am afraid, from all I hear, thai people are rather inordinate in their expectations, which is very unlucky, bui ramioi now he helped. Tins 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 i v'-rv ijnng to ensure you, at all events, from positive oss, whicn will he some satisfaction to both." NOTE TO MR. MURRAY. ■Dec 3,1813. B I send you a scratch orfcro, the which heal. The Chris- tian Observer is very savage^ but certainly wefl written — and quite uncomfortable at the naughtiness of hook and author. 1 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." NOTE TO MR. MURRAY. K Monday evening, Dec. 6, 1813. « It is all very well, except that die lines are not numbered properly, and a diabolical mistake, page 67, which must be rorreeled with tin- pen, if no other way remains; it is the amis k>ii of 'no? before ^disagreeable^ in the note on tte ameer rosary. This is really horrible, and nearly as bad as the Btumble of mine at the threshold — I mean the monomer of Bride. Pray do not let a copy go without the t tutf it is nonsense andw'irsc t h:in n oi * ji- »■ as i! now stands. 1 wish die printer was saddled with a vampire. B P. S. It Ls still hath instead of hive in page 20; never was any one so trammed as I am by your devils of printers. *P. S. I hope and trust the 'no*"' was inserted in the firsl edition. We must have something — any thing— to set H ri«ht. It is enough to answer for one's own hulls, widiout other people's." new work. I know they are not out; hut it is perhaps po**- sihli; lor your Majesty to command what we cannot with much suing purchase, as yet. 1 need not say that when you are able oi willing u> confer the same favour on me, I >i>:t ; l be obliged. I would almost fall sick myself to get at Ma- dame D'Arblay^B writings. P. s. Ymi were talking to-day of the American edition of a certain uu<|ueii<-hal>tr m< mortal of my younger days. As it can't be helped now, I own I have some curiosity to see a copy of Transatlantic typography. This you will per- haps obtain, an I one for yourself; but I must beg that you will not import murt, hreanse, seriously } I do uish to have that dung forgotten as much as it has been forgiven, a If you send to the Globe editor, say that I want neilhei excuse nor contradiction, but merely a discontinuance of a most ill-ground. -d charge. I never was consistent m any thing but mv politics; and as my redemption depeodi on that solitary virtue, it is murder to carry away my last anchor.*' LETTER CLXXXVIII. TO MR. MURRAY. "Dec. 27, 1813. •Lord Holland is laid up with the gout, and would fee! very much obliged if you could obtain, and send as soon as LETTER CLXXXIX. TO MR. ASHE.* "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 hut commend your resolution to abjure and abandon the public&l ion and composition of works such as those to which you have alluded. Depend upon it, they amuse /'»■, disgrace both reader and imter t and benefit ie. It w ill be my « ish to assist you, as far as my limited ans will admit, to break such a bondage. In your an- awer, inform me what sum you think would enable you to extricate yourself from the hands of your employers gain at least temporary independence, and J shall be glad to contribute my mite towards it. At present I must con- dude. Your name is not unknown to me, and I regret, for your own sake, that you have ever lent it to the works yOQ mention. In saving this, I merely repeat your OUffi ward* 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. u Yours, &c. "Kyrom.' [In answer to this letter, Ashe mentioned as the sum ne- cessary to extricate him from his difficulties, 160/. — and, some short delav having occurred m the reply to this demand, he, m renewing his bujt, ceuipuuned, it appears, of neglect.] LETTER CXC. TO MR. ASHE. "Jan. 5, 1814. ■ When you accuse a stranger of neglect, you forget that it is possible business or absence from London may have interfered to delay his answer, as has actually occurred in the present instance. But to die point. I am willing todo what I run tOCXlru \ite you from voiir situation. Your first scheme 1 was considering; but your own impatience ap- pears to have render) d it abortive, if not irretrievable. I will deposite in Mr. Murray's hands {with his consent) the sum von mentioned, to be advanced for the lime :t ten pounds per month. B P. S. I write in the greatest hurry, which may make my letter a tittle abrupt; but, as I said before, I have no wish to distress your feelings. 11 ' Author of ft publication relating to the Queen, called " The Book:' llsoof " Tnidi through America," omt other notorious libels. He nad vriUen to Lord Bvron, alleging powiriy as bit excuse for tnc >nle uses U . , , which he had prosUtutfld his l*U, uud soliciting vbe means «f wUaiuwi pcssible, Madame D Arblay » (or even Alted Ldguwurtns; j wiUB UUU i.t cdivIitukui. LETTERS, 1S11. G3 LETTER CXCI. TO AIR. GALT. ■Dec. 11, 1SI3. tt MV dear g mt, * There was nu offence — there could be none.* 1 thought it hv no means impossible that we might have hit on some- thing similar, particularly as you art* a dramatist, and was anxious to assure you uf die truth, viz. that 1 had not wit- tingly seized upon plot, sentiment, or incident; and I am very glad that 1 have not in any respect trenched upon your subjects. Something still more singular is, that the yr'rrf part, where vou have found a coincidence in some events within your observations on life, was drawn from observation of mine also; and 1 meant to have gone on with the story, but on second thoughts, 1 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 Scliiller's and Alfieri's, in modern times, besides several of our old (and best) dramatists, have been grounded on incidents of a similar ca--t. I therefore altered it as you perceive, and, in so doing, have weakened the whole by interrupting the train of thought; and, in composi- tion, I do not think second thoughts are meoest, though, second expressions may improve the first ideas. ■I do not know how other men feel towardsthose 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 rael 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 sta- tionary, if I can at all forward your pursuits Oicre as well as here, I shall be truly glad in the opportunity. "Ever yours very sincerely, a B. *P. S. I believe I leave 'own for a day or two, on Mon- day, but after that I am always aliiome, arid happy to see vou till hail" past two." think 'Live and protect 1 bette: ^cause'Oh who?' implies a doubt of Roland's power or inclination. I would allow me — but that point you yourself must determine on — I mean the doubt as to where to place a part of the Poem, whether between the actions or no. Only if you wish to have all the success you deserve, never listen to friends, and — as I am not the least troublesome of the number — least of all to me. u l hope yuu wili be uut soon. JMarrh, sir, JMarch, is the month for the trade, and they must be considered. You have written a very noble Puem, and nothing but the detest- able taste of the day can do you barm, — but I think you will beat it. Your measure is uncommonly well chosen and ielded." ****** LETTER CXCIV. TO MR. MURRAY. 'Sunday, Jon. 2, IS14. ; Excuse this dirty paper — it is the penultimate half-sheet of a quire. Thanks for your book and the Ln. Chron. which I return. The Corsair is copied, and now at Lord Hol- land's; but I wish Mr. Gilford to have it to-night. " Mr. Dallas is very perverse ; so that I have offended both him and you, when I really meant to do good, at least to one, and certainly not to annoy either.* But I shall manage him, I hope. I am pretty confident of the Tale itself; but one cannot he sure. If I get it from Lord Holland, it shall be sent. Yours, &c." LETTER CXCV. TO MR. MOORE. LETTER CXCIL TO MR. LEIGH HUNT. ■Dec. 22, 1813. ■mv dear sir, ■ I am, indeed, ' in your debt 1 — and what is still worse, am obliged to follow royal example, [be has just apprized his creditors that they must wait till the meeting,] and entreat 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 to-morrow, with me, for her own residence. I return immediately ; but we meet so seldom, and are s-> minuted when we meet at nil, that 1 give Up all engagements, till now, without reluctance. On mv return, I must see you to console myself fir mv past disappoint* m'-nts. I should feel highly honoured in Mr. B- 's permission to make his acquaintance, and thtrr you are in mu 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 hun lately; but if not, you will he glad to learn that he is the same in heart, head, and hfti&h-" LETTER CXCIII. TO MR. MtRIVALE. ■Jan. 1814 MV DEAR MERIVALE, * 1 have redde Roncesvaux with very great pleasure, and (if 1 were so disposed) see very- little room for criticism. There is a choice of two Knee in one of the last Cantos, — I ■Jan. 6, 1814. ■I have got a devil of a long story in the press, entitled 1 The Corsair, 1 in the regular heroic measure. It is a pirate's isle, peopled with my own creatures, and you may easily suppose they do a world of mischief through the three cantos. Now for your Dedication — if you will - accept it. This is positively my last experiment on public literary opinion, till I tum my thirtieth vear, — if so be I flourish until that down- hill period. I have a confidence for you — a perplexing one to me, and, just at present^ in a state of abeyance in uself, ******* However, we shall see. In die mean time, you mayamu.se yourself with my suspense, and put all the justices of die peace in requisition, in case I come into your county with 'hack but bent. 1 "Seriously, whether I am to hear from her or him, it is a pause, which I shall fill up with as few thoughts of my own as I can borrow from other people. Any thing is better than stagnation; and now, in the interregnum of my autumn and a strange summer adventure, which 1 don't like to think of, (I don't mean * *'s, however, which Is laughable only,) the antithetical state of my lucubrations makes me alive, and Macbeth can 'sleep no more:' — he was lucky in getting rid of the drowsy sensation of waking again. "Pray write to me. I must send you a copy of the Utter of Dedication. When do yon come out? I am sure we don't clash this time, for I am all at sea, and in action, — and a wife, and a mistress, &c. &c. "Thomas, thou art a happy fellow; but if you wish us to be so, you must come up to town, as you did last year; and we shall have a world to say, and to see, and to hear. Let me hear from you. ■ P. S. Of course you will keep my secret, and don't even talk in your sleep of it. Happen what may, your Dedication is ensured, being already written; and I shall copy it out fair to-night, in case business or amusement — Amant alterna CamaiTUB. n * " H would *pr*ar that hr hart wrflten to mo ■omttfilnf! which led r (.■ imaglBf be was oflennci m my oi.wnatioiu, and lb.« I tiail, in c W qui-iiie, tbpftoted bi» wrath." — GcUt. • Hr hart mart* a present nfmf o>py-ri?lit of the Corsair to Mr. Pallni which occiiiJiievl aorac ULilanaaaweut between tiim and M . Maaj. 6-1 LETTERS, 1814. NOTE TO Mil. MURRAY. "Jan. 7,1814. "You don't like the Dedication— very well; there is an- other: but you will send the other t«> Mr. Moore, thai he may know 1 had written it. I Bend also nioltos for the cantos. 1 tliink you will allow ftatanelepliantma) I * sagacious, but cannot be mora doale. "Yours, "B.n. "The name is aj-aui altered to Medora?* LETTER CXCVT. TO JIH. JIOORE. Man. 8,1814. "As it would not be fair to press you into b I h d« ati m, without previous notice, 1 send you iuw, and 1 will tell you why two. Tim first, Mr. Murray, who sometimes takes Upon him die critic (and I bear it from astonulmenl) says, may do you fmrm — God forbid ! this alone makes me listen to him. The fact is, he i> a damned T-tv, and has, I dare swear, something of edf t which 1 cannot divine, al die bottom of his objection, as it is die allusion to [reland to which lie objects. But he be d — d, thodgh B good fellow enough, (your sinner would not be worth a d — n.) "Take your choice; no one, sa\e he and Mr. 1 Jallas,has seen eidier, and D. is quite on my side, and for the lirsi.f If I can but testify to you and the world how truly 1 admire and esteem you, I shall be quite satisfied. As to prose, 1 don't know Addison's from Johnson's; bull will try to mend my cacology. Pray perpend, pronounce, and don't be o£ fended with either. " My last epistle would probably put you in a fidget Bui the Devilj who ought to be civil on such occasions, proved so, and look my letter to the right pun 0, ****** * Is it not odd ? the very fate I said she had escaped from * *, she has now undergone from the worthy * *. Like Mr. Fitzgerald, shall I not lay claim to die character of ' Vates T as be did in the Morning Herald fix prophesying the fall of Buonaparte, who, hy-thc-hy, 1 don't dunk i- yel fallen. 1 wish he would rally and rout your legitimate sovereigns, having a mortal hate to all royal entails. But I am scrawling a treatise. Good night. Ever, &c. B NOTE TO MR. MURRAY. "Jan. 11, 1814. ■ Correct this proof by Mr. Gilford's (and from the MSS.) particularly as to the pointing. I have added a section for Quinary to rill Up the parting, and dismiss her more ceremoniously. If Mr. Grinord or you dislike, 'tis but a sponge, and another midnight better employed than in yawning over Miss * * ; who, by-the-by, may soon return the compliment. "Wednesday or Thursday. "P. S. I have redde * *. Il is full of pr.u-e-! (1 f Lord Kllenborough!!! (from which I infer near and dear rela- tions at tin- bar,) and * * * * "I do not love Madame de Stael, but depend upon it, she beats all your natives hollow as an authoress, in my opinion ; and I would not say this if I could help it. "P. S. Prav report my best acknowledgments to M.. Gi.Tord in an) words thai may best express how truly on kindness obliges me. I won't bore him with t'}' thanks or notes.'* NOTE TO MR. MOORE. "Jan. 13,1814. "I have I. nt :i moment to write, but all is as it ah aid really far short of my opinion, bui if you think enough, 1 am content. Will you return the proof by the post, as 1 leave town on Sunday, and havi no reeled copy. I put 'servant,' as being teea famiuai th,. public : becau •■ I don 1 ! like presuming upon our friend- ship to infringe upon forms. As to the other u»rd, you may be sure n i- one 1 i annoi bear or repeal loo oft n. "1 write in an agon) of haste and corJusion. — Perdonate." • h hail l.een al first Geoei I t Tim iim wa« tin e preferred. The oilier wn« un roilowai— 11 Jan. 7, IBM. " My dear Moore, '■ i had an tun to fov i long letter ef dedli atlon, which t suppress, be- eauae, (hough [1 wnu al i imalbiofl ralallns to you which awry one had been glad lo hear, ret there was too not h al i politics, and ] sll ihUiga whatsoever, ending widi that topic >nwhicl i sverj imusiiuj— «n«'t *tJ/. Il "". •■ vrUum— but i.. Mimt [.urpoaw? My prnise could add nothing to your wain firmly established Game; and with mj mow h | admiration ■>!" your talents, owl delight in vour conversui y»i I' > l > Mr. Gitfnrd. n may be as well to revise this, where there are twrrfa omitted) fauh c - united, and the devil knows what. As n> thi i tedicalii n, 1 ait oul the parenthe is of Mr.* but notai ird shall move unless lor abetter. Mr. Moore baa eeu, ledlv preferred, the pari your Tory bile sickens at. If ,-vs syllable were a rattlesnake, or ever} lellei a pesti- lence, i hey si I.I not be expunged. Lei those who cannot swallow, chew the expressions on [reland; or should even Mr. ( Iroker array himself in all his terrors againsl them, i care fur none of you, excepi ' ihlbrd; and be won*l abuse me excepi 1 deserve it— which will at leasi reconcile me to his justice. As to the [ ui- iii Hohhouse's volume. - } the trans- lation from the Romaic ia well enough ; but (he beet of the other volume (of mnie, ! mean) have been already printed. But do as you please— only, as I shall be absent when you come out, cto, yray % let Mr. Dallas and yv have a rare of theprew. "Yours, fee" KOTE TO Mil. Mi'KK IT. ["IBM, Jan. 16.] °I do believe tliat the Devil never Created or perverted such a fiend as die fool of a printer. I am obliged to enclose vou, twkilt/ lor me, ilns second proofj corrected, becaua is an ingenuity in bis blunders peculiar to himself. Let tho press be guided by the present sheet. "Yours, &c. " Bum Oir other, l, < lorrecj tfda tdn by i he other in some things which f may have forgotten. There is one mistake be made, whi h, if it had Btood, 1 would most certainly have broken his net k." LETTER cxcvin. TO MR. MTJBJtAY. ■Newsi< ...i \bh y, Ian. .'.' 181 i. "You "ill be glad to hear of nay safe arrival h< re. Tim time of my return will depend upon the weather, which is so impracticable thai this letter bastoadvance through more in evei op losed the i mpeioi ? s retreat. The roads an mi] ttssablc,an 1 return impossible for the present; which [do not regret, as l am much at my ease, mi i rix~and-tiflenty complere i his -lav — a very pretty age, ifil would always lasi. ( inr coals aie excellent, our fire-places large, my cellar full, and my he.pl empt} ; and I have not yet recovered my joy at leaving 1 ."u Ion. If any unexpected turn occurred with my purchasers,! believe I should hardly ouil ihe place at ali- but shut my door, and let my hear. I grow, a l forgot to mention (and 1 hope it is unnecessary) that * He tmil m first, after ti"* wofljal " Scoit akna." laserud, In a pan IheaUr*-" M * »ille«^sw the Mr.— ' wsitonoi»«) Mr Vmtw,* " | See rWna,p. Ibj. LETTERS, 1814. 65 the lines beginning— Remember turn,* &c. must not appear Pith the Corsair. ' You may slip them in with the smaller pieces newly annexed lo Viubie Harold; but on no account permd them to be appended to the Corsair. Have the goodness to recollect this particularly. '' l'in_- books 1 have brought with me are a great consola- tion for i In confinement, and I bought more as we came a I ing. In short, I never consult the thermometer, and shall nui, pot up prayers for a thaw, unless I thought n would away the rascally invaders of France* Was ever such a thing as Blwi-ti.-r's proclamation? "Just before i lt£ town, Kemble paid me the compliment ing mo io mile a tragedy ; I wish I could, bul I hud m . scribbling mood subsiding — not before it was time; but kv to clieck it at all. If I lengthen my letter you will think it is coining ou again \ so, good bye. ft Yours alwav, tt B. "P. S. If you hear any news •,£ battle or retreat on the part of the .Alius, (as they call them,) pray send it. He has my lust wishe to manure the fields of France with an i * army. 1 hate invaders of all countries, and have no patience with the cowardly cry of exultation over him, •*' whose name you all turned whiter than the snow La ted for your triumphs. u I open my letter to thank you for yours just received. The 'I.uies !<» a Lady VYeepihc^ must go with the Corsair. I care n ttlung for consequence on this point. Mv politics are to me like a young mistress to an old man — the worse [row, the fonder 1 become nf them. As Mr. Gilford ill es the 'Portuguese Translation,^ pray insert it as an ad- dition to the Corsair. " In all points of difference between Mr. GitTord and Mr. Dallas, let the first keep his place ; and in all points of dif- ference betwei n Mr. Gifford and Mr. Anybody-else, I shall \ the former; if I am wrong I can't help it. But I rather not be right with any other person. So there is an end 'if that matter. Afier all the trouble he has taken alHwt me and mine, I should be very ungrateful to feel or art otherwise. Besides, in point of judgment, he is not to be lowered by a comparison. In politics, he may be right too; but that with me is Ajedingj and I can't Unify mv na- ture." LETTER CXCIX. TO MB. HURRAY. "Newstead Abbey, Feb. 4, 1814. •1 need not say that your obliging letter was very wel- come, ami no) the less so for being unexpected. u Ii doubtless gra*ifiesme much that our./ana&has pleased, and rliat the curtain drops gracefully.^ K«e deserve i: should. f>r your promptitude ami good nature ui arranging : ii-.lv with Mr. Dallas; and I can assure you that 1 esteem your entering so warmly into me subject, and writing Bo Die bo soon upon it, u> a personal obligation. We shall now |tari, I hope, satisfied with v.uh other. I tau and am quite in earnest in my prefatory promise not to intrude any more; and iliis not from any affectation, but a thorough con- that il is ihf best policy, and is at least respectfill '■> ders, as ii shows thai 1 would not willingly run the I irf ing their favour in future. Besides, I have plberview< and objc :ts,and think that I shaS keep this reso- f ir, since I lefl London, though shut up, xnoto-bound, ftoio-baund, and tempted with all kinds of paper, the dirtiest of ink, and the bluntest of pens, I have not even been haui* ted Poeme, p. I&l. I Hn tmiiflli>ljnn of the YretiT PortH^iipse eon;, " Tu mi chamei ■' rte wa» 'cnii-tfl to irr another rcrainn »f this iiig»nioue thmiehi , vhU \ e, i*ili»i>m. ■ till m..rc happy, and hee never, I Itlicve, appeared in prim. " Y»u call m* (till vo'ir lift — ah! chance Uie word— 1 -iff ia&> Irnnsit-nt n» Hi' incon=l*ut sieh ; Sac, rather, I 'in jrour tout, more )uet that name, PftC, like Oteaoul. my love* can never Hie." — Moore. X Tf will he rwnlleeteil that he hail announced Che Coreair aa " the la" iimtuetiou wiiti which tie ahouk) uvc]*m on jjuWic patience for kin, fcare." 9 by a wish to put them to their combined uses, except in let- ters of business. My rhyming propensity is quite gone, ana I feel much as I did at Patras on recovering from my fever — weak, but in health, and only afraid of a relapse. I do most fervently hope I never sKall. u l see by the Morning Chronicle there hath been dis- cus ii n in the Courier; and I read in the Morning Post a wrathful letter about Mr. Moore, in which some Protestant Reader has made a sad confusion about India and Ireland. " ^ on are to do as you please about the smaller poems ; but I think removing them notv from the Corsair looks like fear; and if so, you must allow me not to be pleased. I should also suppose thai, after the fuss of the^e newspaper esquires, they would materially assist the circulation of the Corsair; an object 1 should imagine at present of more im- porlance loyountclf titan Childe Harolds seventh appear- ance. Do as you like ; but don't allow the withdrawing that poem tn draw any imputation of < Its-may upon me.* "Pray make mv re.j.eeis to Mr. Ward, whose praise I value most highly, as you well know; it is in the approbation of such men dial fame becomes worth having. To Mr. * iuTord I am always grateful, and surely not less so now Uian ever. And so good night to my authorship. "I have been sauntering and dozing here very quietly, and not unhappily. You will be happy to hear that I have completely established my uile deeds as marketable, and that the purchaser has succumbed to the terms, and fulfils them, or is to fulfil them forthw ith. He is now here, and we go on very amicably together — one in each ving of the Abbey. We set off on Sunday — I for town, he for Che- shire. "Mrs. Leigh is with me — much pleased with the place, and less so wit It me for parting with it, to which not even the price can reconcile her. Your parcel has not yet arrived — at least the Mags. &c; but I have received Childe Harold and die Corsair. I believe both are very correcdy printed, which is a great satisfaction. 1 thank you fur wishing me in town ; but I think one's success is most felt at a distance, and I enjoy my solitary f-importance in an agreeably sulky way of my own, upon the strength of your letter — for winch I once more thank you, and am, very truly, &c. "P. S. Don't you think Buonaparte's next publication will he rather expensive to the Allies? Perry's Paris letter of yesterday looks very reviving. ^Yba^ a Hydra and Bnareus it is! I wish they would pacify: there is no end to this campaigning." LETTER CC. TO MR. MURRAY 1 . "Newstead Abbey, Feb. 5, 1814. "I quite forgot, in my answer of yesterday, to mention that I have no means of ascertaining whether the Newark Pirate lias hem doing what vou say.f If so, he is a rascal, and a thabby rascal too; and if Ins offence is punishable by law or pugilism, he shall he fined or buffeted. Do you try and dis- cover, ami I will make some inquiry here. Perhaps some titter in luwu may have gone on printing, and used the same deception. "The facsimile is nmiited in Childe Harold, which is very awkward, as there is a note expressly on the subject. Pray replace U as usual. * On second and third thoughts, the withdraw ing the small noems from the Corsair (even to add to Childe Harold) looks like shrinking and shuffling after the fuss made upon one of them by the Tories. Pray replace them in die I 'or air's appendix. I am sorry that Childe Harold require* ome and such abetments to make him move off": but, if you remember, I told you his popularity would not bo ■ ennanent. It is very lucky for the author tliat he had ■ He all.Mlra to tinea Iwgmmog "Weep, daughter of a royal line.* Panne, p. 102. 1 Reiirinlinp. tt>« " Uenra of Wii-nti*.'* C6 LETTERS, "fill. made up his mind to a temporary reputation in time. The truth is, I do nut think that any of the present day [and least of all, one who has not consulted the nattering side of human nature) have much to hope from posterity; and you may think it affectation very probably, bul to me, my presenl and past success has appeared verj singular] sin© A wai in tiie teeth of so manv prejudices. 1 almost think people like to be contradicted. [fChil le Harold Bags, it will hardly be worth while to go on with the engraving . bul do as you please; [ have done with the whole concern; and the en- clnst-d lines written years ago, and copied from myskuflcap, are an g the last with which you will be troubled. If you like, add them to Child-* Harold, if only for the sake of another outcry. You received so long an answer yesterday, that I will not intrude on you further titan to repeat myself" " Fours, &c 'P. S. Of course, in reprinting (if you have occa i m you will take great care to he correct. The present editions seem very much so, except in the last note of Childe Harold, where the word reeponaible occurs twice, nearly together ; correct the second into answerable* NOTE TO MR. MURRAY. "Newark, Feb. 6, 1814. B I am thus far on my way to town. Master Ridge 3 ' 1 1 have seen, and he owns to having reprinted some sfieeU, to make up a few complete remaining copies! I have now- given him fair warning, and if he plays such tricks again, I must either get an injunction] or call for an account of profits, (as I never have parted with the copyright^) or, in short] any tiling vexatious to repay hirn in his own way. If the weather does not relapse, I hope to he m town in a day or two. u fours, &.C." NOTE TO MR. MURRAY. "Feb. 7,1 814. ****** ■ I see all the papers in a sad commotion with those eight lines ;f and the Morning Post, in particular, has found out that I am a sort of Richard I II .—deformed in mind and body. The last piece of information is not very new to a man who passed five years al a public school. "I am very sorry you cut out those lines for Childe Harold. Pray reinsert them in their old place in 'The Corsair.'" LETTER CCI. TO MR. HODGSON. "Feb. 28, 1814. "There is a youngster — and a clever one, named Rey- nolds, who has just published a poem called 'Sane, 1 published by Cawthome. He is in the most natural and fearful a\*~ prehension of the Reviewers — and as you and I both know by experience the effect of such things upon a t,'nung mini. I wish ytru would take his production into direction and do it gently, /cannot, because it is inscribed to me; bul 1 assure you this is not my motive fir wishing him to he ten- derly entreated, but because 1 know the misery, at hia time of life, of untoward remarks upon first appearance, "Now for self. Pray thank your cousin — it is just as it should be, to my liking, and probably marc than will suit any one else's. I hope and trust that you are well and well doing. Peace be with you. Ever yours, my dear friend." LETTER CCII. TO UR. MOORE. "Feb. 10,1814. 'I arrived in town late yesterday evening, having been absent three weeks, which I passed in Nolls, quietly and ' Xht prlnltr *l Nawtrk. Iv. You can have no concejUonof the uproar the eight lines on th< Ro ■ ty*s weeping in 161$ (now re- ined. The Regent, who had always i bose — God knows why — ondi ingthomto be mine, to be ejected 'in sorrow rather than anger.' The .Morning Post, Sun, Herald, < '.urn been in hysterics ever since. Murray is in a fright, and wanted to shuffle — and the abuse against me in all directions i- vehement, unceasing loud — some of it good, and all of it hearty. 1 feel :i little compunctious as to the Regent's n- gntf* — [ would he had been only angry ! hut I bar bun not ' "Some ofthese same assaibnentsyou have probably seen. My person (which is excellent for 'the nonet**) has been de- nounced in verses, the more like the subject) inasmnch as exceedingly. Then, in another,! am an aihast— arecej — nnrlai last, the devil^ {botieuX) 1 presume.) My demoTiism seems to be a fcmal ■ ire: if so, perhaps I could convince her that I am bftl a mere mortal, — if a queen of the Amazons may be believed, who says apurrov \oAoj oin tcchucal topics." LETTER CC1II. tO MR HUNT. ■ Feb. 9, 1814. n MY DEAR fIR, H I have been s io*- '-bound and thaw-swamped (twe compound epithets ot fou) in the ' valley of the shadow t " To ft Lf«ly Wetphtf." LETTERS, 1SH. 67 of Newstead Abbey for nearly a month, and have not been four hours returned to London. Nearly the first use I make of my benumbed fingers, is to thank you for your very handsome note in the volume* you have just put forth, univ, 1 trust, to be followed by others on subjects more worthy your notice than the works of contempo- raries. Of myaeHj you speak only too highly, and you must think me strangely spoiled, or perversely peevish, even to suspect that any remarks of yours, in the spirit of candid criticism, could possibly prove unpalatable. Had they been harsh, instead of being written as they are in the indelible ink and friendly admonition, had they been the Bl — as I l;m w and know that you are above any personal bias, at least, against your fellow-bards, believe me they would not have caused a remonstrance, nor a mo- meal of rankling on my part. Your poem I read long ago in the 'Reflector,' and it is not much to say it is the best ' Session 1 we have, and with a more difficult subject, tor we are neither so good nor so bad (taking the best and worst) as the wits of the olden lime. 1 To your smaller pieces I have not yet had time to do justice by perusal, and I have a quantity of unanswered, and I hope unanswerable letters to wade through before I sleep, but to-morrow will see me through your volume. 1 am glad to sec you have tracked Gray among the Italians. You will perhaps find a friend or two of yours there also, though not to the same extent ; but I have always thought die Italians the must poetical moderns ; our Milton and Spenser, and Sliakspeare, (the last through translations of their Tales,) are very Tuscan, and surely it is far superior to the French school. You are hardly fair enough to Rogers- Why ttal you might surely have given him sup- per, if only a sandwich. Murray has, I hope, sent you my last banding, ' The Corsair.* I have been regaled at every inn on the road hy lampoons and other merry con- ceils on myself in the ministerial gazettes, occasioned by the republication of two stanzas, inserted in 1S12, in Perry's paper. The hysterics of the MorningPost are quite interesting; and I hear (but have not seen) of something terrific in a last week's Courier : all which I take with the 'calm indifference' of Sir Fretful Plagiary. The Momin; Post has one copy of devices upon my deformity which certainly will admit of no 'historic doubts' like 'Dickon my master's,' another upon my atheism, which is not quite so clear, and anouVr very downrightiy says, 'I am the devil, (boitcuj:, they might have added,) and a rebel, and what not : possibly, my acci m may be Rosa Matilda; and if so, it would not be difficult to convince her that I am a mere man. I shall break in upon you in a day or two, distance has hitherto detained me ; and I hope tu find you well, and myself welcome. " Ever your obliged and sincere ■ Byron. 8 P. S. Since this letter was written, I have been at your text, which has much good humour in every sense of the word. Your notes are of a very high order indeed, particularly on Wordsworth." own obstinacy upon the subject. Take any course you please to vindicate yourself, but leave me to fight m- own way, and, as 1 before said, do not compromise me by any thing which may look like sftriiiking on my part ; ai for your own, make the best of it. "Yours, "Bat." LETTER CCV. TO MR. ROGERS. 'Feb. 16, 1814. 'MY DEAR ROGERS, [ 1 wrote to Lord Holland briefly, but I hope distinctly on the subject which has lately occupied much of my conversation with him and you.* As things now stand, upon that topic my determination must be unalterable. " I declare to you most sincerely that there is no hu- man being on whose rejard and esteem I set a higher value than on Lord Holland's; and, as far as concerns himself, I would concede even to humiliation without any view to the future, and solely from my sense of his conduct as to the past. For the rest, I conceive that I have already done all in my power by the suppression.! If that is not enough, they must act as they please; but I will not 'teach my tongue a mo=t inherent baseness, come what may. You will probably be at the Marquis Lansdowne's to-night. I am asked, but I am not sure that 1 shall be able to go. Hobhouse will be there. I think, if you knew him well, you would like him. "Believe me always yours very affectionately, «B* LETTER CCVI. TO MR. ROGERS. LETTER CCIV. TO MR. MURRAY. "Monday, Feb. 14, 1814. 'Before 1 left town yesterday,! wrote you a note, which I presume you received. I have heard so many different accounts of your proceedings, or rather of those of others towards you, in consequence of the publication of these everlasting lines, that I am anxious to hear from your- self the real slate of the case. Whatever responsibility, obloquy, or effect is to arise from the publication, should surely not fall upon you in any decree ; and I can have no objection to your stating, as distinctly and publicly as you please, your unwillingness to publish them, and my "Feb. 16, 1814. "If Lord Holland is satisfied, as far as regards him- self and Lady Hd. and as this letter expresses him to be, it is enough. " As for any impression the public may receive from the revival of the lines on Lord Carlisle, let them keep it, — the more favourable for him, and the worse for me — better for alt. "All the sayings and doings in the world shall not make me utter another word of conciliation to any tiling that breathes. 1 shall bear what I can, and what I cannot, I shall resist. The worst they could do would be to exclude me from society. I have never courted it, nor, I may add, in the general sense of the word, en- joyed it — and 'there is a world elsewhere!' "Any thing remarkably injurious, I have the same means of repaying as other men, with such interest as circumstances may annex to it. "Nothing but the necessity of adhering to regimen prevents me from dining with you to-morrow. " I am yours most truly, "Bn" • Th« Fwtst of it* Poeu. LETTER CCVLT. TO MR. MOORE. "Feb. 16, 1814. "You may be assured that the only prickles that sting from the Royal hedgehog are those which possess a torpedo property, and may benumb some of my friends. /am quite silent, and 'husli'd in grim repose.' The frequency of the assaults has weakened their effects, — if ever they had any ; — and, if they had had much I should hardly have held mv tongue, or withheld mv fingers. I is something quite new to attack a man for abandonin " RH.iliie to a | nation between Lord Ca Uale koJ hi I f Of the S-itira. 68 LETTERS, ISIJ. nis resentments. I have heard that previous praise and subsequent vituperation were rathe* ungrateful, but I did not know that it was wrong to endeavour to do justice to those who tint not wait till I had made some amends for former and boyish prejudices, hut received me into Iheu- friendship, when 1 might still have been their enemy. "You perceive justly that I must mtentwnaOhj have made my fortune, like Sir Francis Wronghead It u, re better if there were more merit in my independence] but it really is something nowadays to \><- independent at ail, and the Us* temptation to be otherwise, the more un- common tin- ca^e, in thes.- Mine- of pa'vel ah:i1 servility 1 believe thai most of our hales and likings have been hitherto nearly the same; hut from henceforth, they must, of necessity, be one and indivisible, — and now lor it ! I am for any weapon, — the pen, till one can find something sharper, will do tor a beginning. " You can have no conception of the ludicrous solem- nity with which these two stanzas have been treated. The Morning Cost gave notice of an intended motion m Ihe House of my brethren on the subject, and God knows what proceedings besides ; — and all tins, as Bedridden in Ihe 'Nights' says, 'fbr making a cream tart without pep- per.' This last piece of intelligence is, 1 presume, too laughable to be true ; and the destruction of the Custom- house appears to have, in some degree, interfered with itiMir ;— added to which, the last battle of BOoDapaite has usurped the column hitherto devoted to my bulletin. •' I Bend you from this day's Morning Post the best which have hitherto appeared on this * impudent dog- gerel,' as the < Courier calls it. There was another about inv ihrt, wht 'ii a boy — no! at all bad — some time ago; but the rest are but indifterent. U I shall think about your oratorical hint;* — but I have never set much upon ( (hat cast,' and am grown as tn if as Solomon of everv thin?, and of myself more than anything. This is being what the Learned call philo- sophical, and the vulgar, lack-a-dai »ical. I am, however, always glad of a blessing ;f pray repeat yours soon, — ai least, your letter, and I shall tiunk the benediction in- cluded. 14 Ever, Sic." LETTER CCVIII. TO MR. DALLAS "Feb. 17, 1814. "The Courier of this evening accuses me of having •received and pocketed' large sums for my works. I have never yet received, nor wish to rec -ive, a Birthing for any. Mr. Murrav offered a thousand fbrtbe ' Ii* hi and Bride of Abydos, which 1 said was too much and that if he could afford it at the end of sis months, I w-ould then direei bow it might be ii. posed of; but mother then, nor at any oilier period, have I ever availed DO ell oft lie profits on my own account. For the republication of the Satire, I refused tour hundred guineas ; ami f >r the previous editions I never asked nor received a sous, nor for any writing whatever* I d i not wish you to do am thing disagreeable to yourself; there never was nor shall be any conditions nor stipulations with regard to any ac- commodation (hat I could afford von; and, on your part, l can see nothing derogatory in receiving the copyright It was only assistance afforded to a worthy man, by one not quite so worthy. "Mr. Murray is going to contradict this ;| but your name will not be mentioned : tor your own part, vou are n free agent, and are to do as you please. 1 only hope Mr- Moore bad cu.lcikvuiircil itt [wraiinite him lo Hike a yarl in pur- laroenur) kfltlr*, uxtl Lot) l*nl fbi ormtori mora Irequtntly. I concluding hit letter, Mr. Moor* l.nviug taid "bod b!cH juu :'" »J.k-l -" tlim is, if you have no objection." * The iUicinctilol'ttte Courier, & c that now, as always, you will think that I wish to lake no unfair advantage of the accidental opportunity which cir- cumstances prriui ted inc of being of use to VOU. » fiver, fcc" In consequence of this letter, Mr. Dallas addressed an explanation to one of the newspapers, of which in* fol low ing vs a part: — TO THE EDITOB OF THE MORS J NO FObF. "MR, ' : I have seen the paragraph in an evening paper, in which Lord Byron is accused of 1 receiving an d pocketing 1 targe sum-- (or his works. J believe no one who knows him has the slightest suspicion of tlis kind : but the as- sertion being public, 1 think it a justice I owe to Lord Byron to contradict it publicly. * * ■' I take upon me to affirm that Lord Byron m reived a shilling for anv of his works. To inv certain knowledge, the profits of the Satire were left entirely to the publisher of it. The gift of the copyright of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage] I have already publicly acknow- ledged in 'tn d^dica'ion of the new edition of my novels: and I now add in. acknowledgment f -r that of Ihe i'or- sair, not onlj (or Uie profi able pan of it, but for th c&te and delightful manner of bestowing it while yet un- published. With res pert (o his two Otbet poems, the Griaour and the Bride of Abydos, Mr. Murray, the pub- usher of them, c-d.n truly attest that no pan ol the them has ever touched his hands, or been disposed of for Ins use." LETTER CCIX. TO * + * *. "sir, tt Feb. 20, 18T4. "My absence from London till within these last few days, and business since, have hitherto prevented my ac- knowledgment of the volume 1 have lately recehr< me inscription which it contains, fix- both of which I ben leave to re'urn you my thanks, and beet wishes fur the success of the book and its author. The poem ilsel£ as [hi workof a young man, is creditable to yourtalen promises better for future efforts than any which T can now recoil. -et. Whether you intend to pursue your | eareer, I do not know, an 1 ran have no ntrht to inquiro— but, in whatever channel your abilities are directed, I think it will be your own fault ifihcy do not eventually lead to distinction. Happiness mu*t of course de|iciid upon coc dun — and even fame itself would be but b poor compen- sation for self-reproach. You ■ il 1 ex< use me f>r tnlkmg to a man perhaps not many years my junior, with these "nive airs of seniority \ but diougb-l cannot claim much advantage b thai respt 1 1. it was ray otto be thrown very early upon the world — to mi\ a good deal in it in more cli- mates than one — and to purchase experien e which would probably have been of gi mi r i rice to any one than myself. But my business *ith yon is in your capacity of author, and to that I will cot in "The firsl thing a young wri i t must expect, and yet can least of all suffer, is criticism, I did not bear it— u few years, and many changes have since passed over mv head, and my reflections on that subject are attended witti regret. I find, on dispassionate comparison, my own re- venge more than the provocation warranted, fi is true, [ was very young — that might be an excuse to those 1 at- tacked — but to me it is none: the best reply to all objec- tions is to write beiier — and if your enemies will not then do you justice, the world will. On the other hand, you should not he discouraged — to be opposed, is not to be vanquished, though a timid mind is apt to mistake every scratch tor a mortal wound. There is a saying of Dr. Jolinson's, which it is as well to remember, that 'no man was ever written down except by himself. 1 I sincerely hope that you will meet with as few obstacles as yourself LETTERS, 1811. 69 can desire— but if you should, you will find thai they are tobestepp d ovei ; to k>fc them down is the lirst resolve (if a young and fiery spirit— a pleasant thing enough al the time— 4ml nol so afterwards: on tills point, I speak of ,i man's own reflections — what others think br say, is a Bcoondwy cvn idcralion — at least, it has been so with me, bnt will not answer as a general maxim: he who would make his way in the world, must let the world bi lieve thai it was made for him, and accommodate himself to the minutest observance of its regulations. I beg once more to thank you for your pleasing present, "And have the honour to be ■ Your obliged and very obedient servant, "Byron." LETTER CCX. TO MK. MOORE. "Feb. 26, 1814. •Dallas had, perhaps, have better kept silence; — but that was fa* concern, an I, as his facts are correct, and in- motive not dishonourable lo himself, 1 wished him well through if. As for his interpretations of the lines, he and i Ise may interprel them as they please. I have and shall adhere to my taciturnity, unless something very particulai occurs to render this impossible. Do not you say a word. If any one is to speak, it is the person prin- tncerned. The most amusing thing is, that every one [to me) attributes ihe abuse to the man they perxonr ally most 'Jivikc! — some say Croker, some G * * e, others Fitzgerald, &c. &e. &e. I do not know, and have no clue but conjecture. If discovered, and he turns out a hireling, he must be left to his wages; if a cavalier, he must l wink, and hold out his iron.' "I had some thoughts of putting the question to Croker, but Hobhouse, who, I am sure, would not dissuade me, if it were right, advised me by all means not ; — 'that I had no right to take it upon suspicion,' &c. &c. Whether Hobhouse is correct, I am not aware, but he believes him- self so, and says there can be but one opinion on that sub- ject. This 1 am, at least, sure of^ that he would never prevent me from doing what he deemed the duty of a preux chevalier. In such cases — at least, in this country —we must act according to usages. In considering this instance, I dismiss my own personal feelings. Any man will and must tight, when necessary, — even without a mo- live. Here, I should take it up really without much re- sentment ; for unless a woman one likes is in the way, it is some years since 1 felt a long anger. Hut, undoubt- ed I, or may I, trace it to a man of station, I should and shall do what is proper. L " * was angerly, but tried to conceal it. You are not called upon to avow the 'Twopenny, 1 and would only c i i ifj them by so doing. Do you not see the great ob- jei i of all these fooleries is to set him, and you, and me, and all persons whatsoever, bv the ears 1 — more especially those who are on good terms — and nearly succeeded. IjOI i 1 1- wished me 10 concede to Lord Carlisle — concede i.i the den il ' — to a man who used me ill ? I told him, in answer, that 1 would neither concede, nor recede on the subject, but be silent altogether; unless any tiling more cuul I be sai 1 about Lady H. and himself who had been i my very good friends; — and there it ended. This was no time tor concessions to Lord C. u I have been interrupted, but shall write again soon Believe me ever, my dear Moore, &c." is the only answer to the tilings you mention; nor should! I regard that man as my friend who said a word more on the subject. I care little for attacks, but I will not submit to defences; and I do hope and trust that you have never entertained a serious thought of engaging in so foolish a controversy. Dallas's letter was, to his credit, merely as to the facts which he had a right to state ; / neither have nor shall take the least puMic notice, nor permit any one else to do so. If I discover the writer, then 1 may act in a d liferent manner ; but it will nol be in writing. "An expression in your letter has induced me to write this to you, to entreat you not to interfere in any way in such a business, — it is now nearly over, and depend upon it they are much more chagrined by my silence than they could I"- by the best defence in the world. I do not know any thing that would vex me more than any further reply to these things. "Ever yours, in haste, "B." abl LETTER CCXI •O W * * W * *, ESQ. 1 "MY DEAR W "I have but a few moments to write to you "Feb. 28, 1814. Silence i relation lo lite " Twi LETTER CCXIL TO MR. MOURE. "March 3, 1814. K MY dear friend I have a great mind to tell you that 1 am ' uncomfort- j.' if only to make you cpme to town; where no one ever mofe delighted in seeing you, nor is mere any one to whom I woulu sooner turn for consolation in my most vapourish moments. The truth is, I have 'no lack of ,u -mum hi' to ponder upon of the most gloomy description, but tins arises from other causes. Some day or other, when we are veterans, I may tell you a tale of present and past times; and n is not from want of confidence that 1 do not know,— but — but — always a but to the end of the chapter. 8 There is nothing, however, upon the spot either to love or hate; — but 1 certainly have subjects for both at no very great distance, and am besides embarrassed be- tween three whom I know, and one (whose name at least) I do not know. All this would be very well, if I had no heart; but, unluckily, I hav* found that there is such a thing still about me, though in no very good repair, and, also, that it has a habit of attaching itself to oae, whether I will or no. ' I hwde et irnpera,' 1 begin to think, will only do for politics. If I discover the 'toad,' as you call him, I shall 'tread,' — and put spikes in my shoes to do it more effectually. The effect of ail these fine things,- 1 do not inquire much nor perceive. I believe * * felt them more than either of us. People are civil enough, and I have had nodcarthof invita- ii,in -, — none of which, however, 1 have accepted. 1 went out very little last year, and mean to go about si ill less. I have no passion for circles, and have long regretted that I evi t gave way to whal is called a town life; — which, of all ili< lives I ever saw (and they are nearly as many as Plu- tarch's) seems to me to leave die least for the past and future. " How proceeds the Poem? Do not neglect it, and 1 have no fears. I need not say to you that your fame is dear to me*— I r eally might say dearer than my own; f >r I have lately begun to think my things have been strangely over- rated ; and. at any rate, whether or not, I have done with them for ever. I may say to you, what I would not say to every body, that the last two wens written, the Brideinfour, and the Corsair in ten daySf-which I take to be a most humiliating confession, as it proves my own want of judg- ment m publishing, and the public's in reading dungs, which cannot have stamina for permanent attention. 'So much for Buckingham. 1 "I have no dread of your being too hasty, and I have still less of your failing. But I think a year a very fair allotment of Dine to a composition which i- not to be Epic; and even Horace's* Nonum prematur 1 must have been intended for the MUlemuum, or some longer-lived generation than our*. 70 LETTERS, 1914. i wonder howmuch we should have had of Ann, had he observed his own doctrines to the letter. Peace be with you! Remember thai I am always and. most truly yours, &c. •P. S. I never heard the 'report' you mention, nor, I dare Bay, many others. But, in course, you, as well as others, have 'damned good-natuied friends, 1 who do their duty in the usual way. One thing will make you laugh LETTER CCX1II. TO MR. MOORE. "March 12,1814. "Guess darkly, and vou will seldom err. At present, ! shall say uo more, and, perhaps — but no matter. I hope we shall some day meet, and whatever years may precede or sut-o'cd i', I shall mark it with the 'white stone 1 in my calendar. I am not sure that I shall not soon be in your neighbourhood again. Ef so, and i am alone, (as will pro- bably be the ease,) I shall invade and carry you off] and endeavour to atone For sorrj fare by a sincere welcome. I don 1 ! know the person absent (barring 'the sect'] I should be so glad to ^ e again. ■ I have nothing of the sort you mention but tile tines, (the Weepers,) if you like to have them in the Bag. I wish I" give diem all possible circulation. The Vault reflection is downright actionable, and to print it would he peril to the publisher; but 1 think the Tears have a natural right to he \ and die editor (whoever he maybe) might supply a facetious note or not, as he pleased. "I caonol conceive how the Vault* has got about, — but so it is. It is loo farouche; but, truth to say, my satires arc not very playful. 1 have the plan (if an epistle m my head, at him ami to him; an J, if they are not a little quieter, 1 shall imbodj it. 1 should say little or nothing of myself. As to mirth an 1 ridicule, that ifl out of my way; but 1 have a tolerable fund of sternness and contempt, an.l, with Juvenal before me, I shall perhaps read him a lecture he has not lately heard in the t.'uurt. From particular rircurnstances, ■ .inn- to m\ knowledge almost by accident, I could 'ted him what he is — I know him well.' ■ l meant, my dear M. to write to you a long letter, but I am hurried, an i time clips my inclination down to yours, &c. u l\ S. Think again before you shelf your Poem. There i a young ti r, (older than me, by-the-hy, but a young* r poet,) Mi*. G. Knight, with a vol.ofEastern Tales, written sin . !,).- return, fir he has been in the countries - , lie m nl i i summer, and I advised him to write one in each measure, without any intention, at that time, of doing the same thing. Since that, from a habit of writing in a fever, I have anticipated him m the variety of measures, hut quite iintntenlionally. Of the stories, I know nothing not having seen diem; but he has some lady in a sack, too, like the Giaour: — he told me at the time. B The best way to make the public 'forget 1 me is to remind them of yourself. You cannot suppose that 1 would ask you or advise you to publish, if I thought youwould^oi/. 1 really have no literary envy; and I d i QOl b< tieve a friend's success j-'ver sat nearer another than yours do to my besl wishes. It is for elderly gentlemen to 'bear no brother near, 1 and cannot become our disease foe more years than we may perhaps number. I wish you to he out before Eastern sub- leds are again before the public." LETTER CCX1V. TO MR. MURRAY. "March 1?, 1814 "I have not time to read the whole MS.f but what I have seen seems very well written, (both prose ami nr.v,) * The luifH on ihe opening of the vtinll thai contained ihc rMMlu »f B»nr?VIU. and Chattel I. * The uniiiUDctiitl ol'ft long grove snlinr, entitled " Anti-Byron," which had hum ient to Mr, Murray, and «»y hlmfbrwardtd to I, on) ityroii, with « rtqueal— not meant, I balleve, wrioual*— that In would j;iva Im opUlloD ■a to ih« prep-feui of puijlialiiiig iu— Afooi*. and, though I am and can be no judge, (at least a far one on this subject,) containing nothing which you ought At publishing upon my account. If the author is not Dr. Busby himselfj 1 think it a pity, on Ins mm account, that he ahould dedicate It t" his subscribers; nor can 1 perceive what Or. Busby has to to with the matter, except a> a translator of Lucretius, for whose doctrines he is surely not responsible. I tell you openly, and really most sincerely, that] if published at ad, there is no earthlv reason why you should not; on the contrary 1 should receive it as the greatest compliment you could pay to your good opinion of my eandour, to print and circulate that, or any other work, attai king me in a manly manner, and without any malicious iniention. from which, as tar as I have seen, I must exonerate this writer. "He is wrong in one thing — / am no atheist; but if he thinks I have published principles tending to such opi- nions, he has a perfect right to controvert them. Pray publish it; I shall never forgive myself if 1 think that I have prevented you. •' Make my compliments to the author, and tell him 1 wish hint success; his vt rse is v< i \ d< serving of it; and I shall be the last person tb suspect his motives. Yours, ice. "P. S. If you do not publish it, some onr else will. Vou cannot suppose me bo narrow-minded as to shrink from discussion. 1 rep-at une.- i r all, that 1 think it a good Poem, (as tar as 1 have reddc ;) and that is the only point you si Id consider. How odd that nglU (diss ahould have given birth, t really think, to eight thousand^ in< luding oil Lhat has been said, and will be, on the mbjei 1 1" LETTER CCXV, TO MR. MUKKAV. "April 9, 1814. "All these news are very fine ; but nevertheless I want my books, if you can find, or cause them to be found for me, — if only to lend them to Napoleon in 'the island of Elba,' during his retirement 1 also (il convenient, and you have no parly with you) should be -lad to speak with von for a few minutes tins evening, as 1 have had a letter from i\lr. Moore, and wish to ask vou, as the best judge, of the best time for him to publish the work he has com- posed. I need not say, thai I have Ins sue. ess much at heart; not only because he is my friend, but BOD much better — a man of great talent, of which lie is less sensible than 1 believe any even of his enemies. If you can so far oblige me as to step dovi n, do so ; and if you ore otherwise occupied, say nothing about A. 1 shall lind you al home in the course ofnexl week, B P, S. I see Sotheby's Tragedies advertised! The I tenth of I vniil.v is a famous subject-H>ne of the best, I should think, lor the drama. Pra) let me have a copy, when ready. u Airs. Leigh was very much pleased with her books; and desired me to thank you; she means, 1 behove, lu write to you her acknowledgments." LETTER CCXVI. TO AIR. MOORE. "2, Albany, April 9, 1814. M Viscount Althorp is about lo be married, and I have- gotten his spacious bachelor apartments in Albany, to which vou will, I hope, address ft speedy answer to this mine epistle. " I am hut just returned to town, from which you may infer that I have been out of it ; ami I have been boxing, for exercise, with Jackson fortius last month daily. I have also been drinking, — and, on oneocca ion, with three other friend.-, at the Cocoa Troo, from si* till tour, yea, LETTERS, ISM. 71 unto five in the matin. We claret cd and champaigned till two — then supped, and finished with a kind of regent punch composed of madeira, brandy, and green tea, no real water being admitted therein. There was a night foi you ! — without once quilting the table, except to ambul; home, which I did alone, and in utter contempt of a hack- ney-coach and my own lis, both of wliich were deemed necessary for our conveyance. And so, — I -am very well, and they say it will hurt my constitution. a I have also, more or less, been breaking a few of the favourite commandments; but I mean to pull up and marry, — if any one will have me. In the mean time, thi other day I nearly lulled myself with a collar of brawn, wliich I swallowed for supper, and indigested for 1 doui know how long; — but tiiat is by-the-by. All this gor- mandize was in honour of Lent; for I am forbidden meat all the rest of the year, — but it is strictly enjoined me during your solemn fast. I have' been, and am, in very tolerable love; — but of Uiat hereafter, as it may be. "My dear Moore, say what you will in your preface; and quiz any thins,. or anv body, — me, if you like it. Oons ! dost thou think me of the oW, or rather ehhrh/, school ? If one can't jest with ones friends, with whom can we be facetious? You have nothing to fear from * *, whom I have not seen, being out of town when he called. He will be * ery correct, smooth, and all that, but I doubt whether there will be any ' grace beyond the reach of art $ — and whether there is or not, how long will you be so d — d modest? As for Jeffrey, it is a very handsome tiling of him to speak well of an old antagonist, — and what a mean mind dared not do. Any one will revoke praise; but — were it not partly my own case — I should say thai rery few have strength of mind to unsay their censure, or follow it up with praise of other things. M What think you of the review of Ijevis? It beats the Bag and my hand-gTenade hollow, as an invective, and hath thrown the Court into hysterics, as I hear from very good authority. Have you heard from * * * *. * No more rhyme for — or rather, from — rne. I have taken my leave of that stage, and henceforth will mounte- bank it no longer. I nave had my day, and there's an end. The utmost I expect, or even wish, is to have it said in the Biographia Bntannica, that I might perhaps have been a poet, had 1 gone on and amended. My great comfort is that the temporary celebrity I have wrung from the world has been in the very teedi of all opinions and preju- dices. I have flattered no ruling powers ; I have never concealed a single thought that tempted me. They can't Kay 1 have truckled to the times, nor to popular topics, (as Johnson, or someb »\\\ --aid of Cleveland,) and whatever I have gained has been at the expenditure of as much pcr- S'lmil favour as possible ; for I do believe never was a bar I more unpopular, rpioatl homo, than myself. And now 1 have done; — 'ludite nunc alios. 1 — Every bodv may be d— d, as they seem fond of it, and resolved to stickle lustily 'jr endless brimstone. "Oh — by-the-by, I had nearly forgot. There is a Ion? Poem, an 'Anti-Byron, 1 coming out, to prove that I have formed a conspiracy to overthrow, by rhyme, all religion and government, and have already nude great progress ! It is not very scurrilous, but serious and ethereal. I never felt myself important, nil I saw and heard of mv being such a little Voltaire as to induce such a production. Murray would not publish it, for which he was a fool, and so 1 told him; but some one else will, doubtless. 'Something too much of this.' "Your French scheme is good, but Vt it be Italian ; all the Angles will be at Paris. Let.it be Rome, Milan, Naples, Florence. Turin, Venice, or Switzerland, and 'egad!' (as Bayes saith,) I will connubiate and join vou : and wc will write a new ' Inferno' in our Paradise. Pray, think of tins — and I will really buy a wife and a ring, and fav the ceremony, and settle near you bi a summer-house upon the Arno, or the Po, or the Adriatic. "Ah! mv poor little p&god, Napoleon, has walked off" his pedestal, lie has abdicated, they say. This would draw molten brass from the eyes of Zatanai. What ! ' kiss the ground before young Malcolm's fee', and then be baited by the rabble's curse !' I cannot hear such a crouching cata- strophe. I must slick to Sylla, for my modern favourites don't do, — ■their resignations are of a different land. All health and prosperity, my dear Moore. Excuse tins lengthy letter. Ever,',&c. "P. S. The Quarterly quotes you frequently in an ar- ticle on America; and every body I know asks perpetually after you and yours. When will you answer them in person 2" NOTE TO MR. MURRAY. *" April 10, 1S14. "I have written an Ode on the fall of Napoleon, which, if you like, I will copy our, and make you a present of. Mr. Merivale has seen part of if, and likes it. You may show it to Mr. Girford, and print it, or not, as you pleas- — it is of no consequence. It contains nothing in his favour, and no allusion whatever to our own government or die Bourbons. Yours, &c. " P. S. It is in the measure of my stanzas at the end of Childe Harold, which were much liked, beginning, 'And thou art dead, 1 &c. There are ten stanzas of it — ninety lines in all." NOTE TO MR. MURRAY". "April 11,1814. a I enclose you a lettered from Mrs. Leigh. "It will be best not to put my name to our Ode; but you may say as openly as you like that it is mine, and I can inscribe it to Mr. Hobhouse from the avtliur, wliich will mark it sufficiently. After the resolution of not publishing, though it is a tiling of little length and less consequence, it will be better altogether that it is anonymous ; but we will incorporate it in the first tome of ours that you find time or the wish to publish. "Yours alway, "B. K P. S. I hope you got a note of alterauons. sent tliis matin ? " P. S. Oh my books ! my books ! will you never find my books ? "Alter c potent spell' to ' quickening spell :' the first (as Polonius says) ' is a vile phrase,' and means nothing, be- sides being commonplace and RosarMuXildaish? NOTE TO MR. MURRAY. "April 12, ISI4. 8 1 send you a few notes and trifling alterations, and an additional motto from Gibbon, which you will find smgw- laxly appropriate. A 'Good-natured Friend' tells me there is a most scurrilous attack on us in the Antijacobin Re- view, which you have not sent. Send it, as I am in that state of languor wliich will derive benefit from getting into a passion. Ever, &c." LETTER CCXVII. TO MR. MOORE. "Albany, April 20, 1 SI 4. "I am very glad to hear that you are to be transient from Mayfield so very soon, and was taken in by the first part of your lctter.f Indeed, for aught 1 know, you may be ■ See Poems, p. 178. . i 1 had beim mv Mterin the follow in- manner:-" I'ave TOO *een the ' Ode to Nap il i Unoimjiarle?'— 1 Biiepect it to J>e either 1 KlgeraU • or Koea Matilda's. Those rapid nml masterly portrait* ol all the tyrants that preceded Napoleon have a v.pour lit il.em which would Incline 1MM niiylhat Rosa Mnl it.liiU the |wr.on- Ijiii then, on the other hand, Jut p.jwerful grasp of histoi v," 8tC. &(. Alier a In tie more uf ih.s mock parallel the letter went on thus: -•' I ih wld Hire 1 1 know what you think of the matter > Rome friends of mine here mil insist that it is the work of the author of Childe Harold,— urn iheu ihej are ntf unwell read lu Fitzgerald nml Rosa Matilda aa 1 am and, bcaldea, they seem loforeel that you pr> m ■■■■ I, ■ I i month or two ago, not io write any more lor rears. Senuualy.'' *•■ & c - 72 LETTERS, 11M. ireating me, as Slipslop eays, with ' ironing even now. I shall say nothing of the >hock, which had ing •■' i„ i, ; as I am apt to take oven a critic, and snU re a f lend at Lis word, and never to doubt thai I have b, i n writing cursed i sense if they say so. Then- wasamen- ltt | reserve i in my pact with the public, m behall ol nd, even had there not, the provoeati vas , i ike it physically impossible topass ovei Bus ,1 nble ei h "t' triumphant tameness. "1 is a cursed business; an, I, aft, ,, all, I shall think higher of rhyme _an^ reason, and very humbly of your heroic people, nil— Elba i 3 nvoleano,and sends him again. leant dunk n all over yet. - My departure for the Continent depends, in some mea- 8ure,on the incontinent I have two country invitations at I , anddniri know what to say or do. lnthemean Uine, I have bought a ma- aw and a parrot, and have £,» oprnj books, and 1 box and fence daily, and go out very hllle. «Al this present writing, I s the Gouty is wheeling m triumph into 1 iccadilly.in-all the pomp and rabbleroentol royalty. I had an offer.of seats to see d pass;but,as 1 have seen a sultan going to mosque, and been at fas r ipuon of an ambassador, the most I ihristian King haih no attractions tor mer— though in some coming veat ol the Hegira, I should not dislike to see the place w.iero he had reigned, shortly after the second revoluUon, and a happy sovereignty of two months, the last su weeks being rivil war. ■ Pray write, and deem me ever, &c. LETTER CCXVI11. TO MR. MURRAY. "April 21, 181-1. "Many thanks with the letters which 1 return. You knmv I am a jacobin, and could not wear white, nor see the installation ol Louis die Gouty. "This is s.id n,-«s, and very hard upon the sufferers at any, but more it sued a time— I mean the Bayonm sortie "You should urge Moore to i oina eat "P. s. [ want Moreri to purchase for good and alL 1 have a Bayle, but want .Moreri too. "P. S. Perry hath a piece of compUmenl Unlay; but I think the mime might have been as well omitted. No matter; they can but throw the old story of inconsistency ;„ myteeth— let ibem,— I in, -an as n, nui publishing. How- ever, now 1 will lo-p my word. Nothing bul Ihe occasion, w hi, h was fhyaealh) uresis ible, made me swerve; and I thought an mumyme within my pact with the public. It is the only thing 1 have or shall set about." LETTER CCXX. TO Mil. Ml'HI-M- "April 26, 1814. " I have been dunking that it migh' he as well to pubbs* no more of Ihe Ode separately, but incorporate il with any .if the other things, and include Ihe smaller Poem too (in ha, ,., e)— which I must previously correct, nevei I can't, lor the head of me, add a line worth 6. ribbfing ; my 'vein' is quite gone, tnd mypresenl occupa'ionsa I the gymnastic order— boxing and fencing— and my pi conversation is with in) macaw and Bayle. 1 want my Moreri, ind I want Atherueus. «P. S. I hope you seni back that poetical packet tothe address which I forwarded toyi n Sundaj I if noi.pray do; or 1 shall have the author screaming after la LETTER t'CXXI. TO MR. MURRAY. •April 26, 1814. , i i aven ssal your author<— but it isa noble Poem,* and worth a thousand Odes of an) body's. I suppose I may keep this e„pv , -alter reading it, I reall) rcgrel written my own. I say due vi rj sine, rely, albeit unused to think humbly of myself. don't like the addi a! stanzas at ,,//, and the] bad better be lefl out. The faci is, I can't do any diingl am ,, i,,,] i do, howevei gladly I would; and at the end ol a week my ml. -rest in a composition goes off. This will a m to you for m) d g no better for your 'Stamp Duty 1 Postscript. The S. R. is verv civil— but what do they mean by Childe Harold resembling Mannion? and the next two, Giaour and Bride, not re bl'ing Scotl ' I certainli nevi r intended to copy him; but, if there be any eopyism, it must he m the two Poems, where the same versification is adopted. However, die) exempt the Corsair fi resemblance to any thingf— though 1 rather wondei ai his escape. * If ever I did any thing original, it was in Childe ' which / prefei to the othei things always, after week. Yesterday! re-read F.uglisli Bards:— bating the mo/ice, it is the test " Eve, 'i &c -" I.F.TTER CCX1X. TO Mil. MURRAY. "April 26, 1814. ■ Let Mr. Gilford have the letter and return it at his lei- sure. I would have offered it, had I thought that be eked things of the kind. ■■ i ),, you want the lasl page mmtdiatdy? I have doubt the 1 s bein- worth printing ; at any rate, 1 mu I see them asain and alter some passages, before they go forth in any shape mi" the ocean of circulation ;-a very c teited phrase hv-th.-bv: well then— ctomelol publication wiU do. «'] am not i' Ihe vein,' or I could knockoffa stanza or ihree for the Ode, that might answer die purpose better. At all events, 1 mod see Ihe lines again fa*, as there be two I have altered in my mind's manuscript already. Has any one seen and judged of them .' that is the criterion b) which I will abide— only give me a fair report, and ' nothing extenuate.' as I will in that case do someduug else. ' Ever, &c. » I want Afjreri and an Atlinuriu. v LETTER CCXXII. TO Mil. Ml'RRAY. "2, Albany, April 29, 1S14. " DEAR s|R, '■I enclose a drafl for the money; when paid, send the copyright. 1 release you from the thousand pounds agreed on for il„- 1 iiaour and I'.nde, and there's an end. « n'aiiv a, , idem occur to me, j ay do then as you please; but, with the exception of two copies of ea h I „ i expect and request thai Ihe advertisements be withdrawn, and the remaining copies of all destroyed ; and any expense s , unci, 1 will be glad to defray-! - For all tins, ii might be as well to assign I s reason, I have none to give, except my owu caprice, and I do not the. ircumstance of consequent ughtorequiri explanation, •In course, I need hardly assure you dial Ihey in v.-r shall be pllblis 1 With HIV Colielll.dire, tly 01 llldll eel U , h> anv other person whatsoever,— that lam perfectly sale-hcl. a,„l have ever) reas in so to be with your conduct ui UJ a-ansac is between us as publisher and author. "It will give me great pleas,,,, to preserve your acquaint • .. n,, T ,»r«." i ■ v- ;; ., ,„*„„»* written. LETTERS, 18H. 73 ance, ami to consider you as ray friend. Believe me very criJy, and C* much attention, * Vour obliged and very obedient servant, "Bv'HOX. "P. S. I do not think that I have overdrawn at Ham- mersley's ; but tl" tiuti be die case, I call draw for the superfiux on Hoares. The draft U bl. short, but that I will mike up. On payment — imt before — return die copyright papers. 11 LETTER CCXXIII. TO Mil. MURRAV. "May 1,1814. * DEAR SIR, * L" yoir present note is serious, and it really would be inconvenient, there is an end of die matter: t'-ar my draft, and go on as usual; in that case, we will recur to our former basis. That / was perfectly seriou.% in wishing to ippr< ss ail future publication, is true ; but certainly not to interfere with the convenience of others, and mure particularly your own. Some day, I will tell you the reason of this apparently strange resolution. At present, it -nay be enough i<> .i\ that I recall it at your suggestion: and as it appears to have annoyed you, I lose no tune m saying so. ta Yours, truly, "B." NOTE TO MR. MOORE. 8 May 4,1814. * Last nigh! we supp'd at R fc's board, kc. ****** * I wish people would not shirk their dinners — ought it not ;•■ Ijave been a dinner I — and that d — d anchovy sandwich ! " That plaguy voice of yours made me sentimental, and nlmost hill in love with a girl who was recommending her- self during your song, by hiding music. But the song is past, and my passion, can wait, till the pucelle Is more har- monious. " Do you go to Lady Jersey's to-night ? It is a large party, and you won'i be bored into ' softening rock-, 1 and all thit. Othello is tomorrow and Saturday too. Which day shall we go f When shall I see you? if you call, let it be alter three and as near four as you please. Ever, ivc. NOTE TO MR. MOORE. ■May ^ 1814. "DEAR TOM, •Thou hast asked me (or a song, and I enclose you an experiment, which has coal me something more than trouble, and is, therefore, less likely to be worth vour takino any in your proposed setting.* Now, if it be so, throw it into tile fire without pfiruie. 'Ever yours, "Bvron." •" 1 *|*al£ not, I irare not, I DTHUU not tl'jr name ftc." NOTE TO MR. MOORE. ■Will you and Rogers come to my box at Covent, then ? I dial! be there, and none else — or I wont be there, if you twain would like to go without me. You will not «et so gond a place hustling among the publican oarers, with damnable apprentices (six feel high) on a back row. Will you both oblige me and come — or one — or neither — or, what you will ? * P. S. An 1 you will, 1 will call for you at half past six, or any tune of your own diaL" NOTE TO MR. MOORE. *I have gotten a box for Odiello to-night, and send the Ueket for your friends the li — fc's. I seriously recommend to you to recommend to them to go for half an hour, if only to see the third act — U>cy will not easily have another op- portunity. We — at least, I — cannot he there, so there will be no one in the way. "Will you give or send it to Uiem? it will come with a better grace from you than me. u [ am in no good plight, but will dine at * *'s with you, if I can. There is music and Covent-g. — Will you go, at all events, to my box there afterward, to see a debut of a young lt>,* in die 'Child of Nature?'" NOTE TO MR. MOORE. "Sunday matin. * Was not Iago perfection ? particularly the last look. I was close to him (in (he orchestra,) and never saw an Eng- lish countenance half sp expressive. I am acquainted with no immaterial sensuality so delightful as good acting; and, as it is tilting there should be good plays, now and then, I r i ■!"•■ Sliakspeare'sj I wish you or Campbell would write one : the real of' us youth' have not heart enough. "Von were cut up m ihe Champion — is it not so? this day, so am I — even to slacking the editor. The critic writes well; and as,al present, poesy is not my passion i predominant, and my snake of Aaron has swallowed up all the other serpents, I don't feel fractious. 1 send you the paper, which 1 mean to take in for the future. We goto M.'s together. Perhaps I shall see you before, but don't let me bore you, now, nor ever. " Ever, as now, truly and affectionately, &c' NOTE TO MR. MOORE. "May 5, 1814. 8 Do you go to Lady Cahir's this even ? If you do — and whenever we arc bound to the same follies — let us embark in die same ' Shippe of Fooles/ I have been up till rive, and up at nine ; and feel heavy with only winking for the last three or fair nights. " I lost my party and place at supper, trying to keep out of the way of* * * *. I would have gone away altogether, but that would have appeared a worse affectation than t' other. You are of course engaged to dinner, or we may go quietly together to my box at Covent-garden, and after- ward to dns assemblage. Why did you go away so soon? * Ever, &c. "P. S. Ought not R * * * fVs supper to have been a dinner? Jackson is here, and I must fatigue myself into spirits." NOTE TO MR. MOORE. "May 18,1814. " ■Thanks — and punctuality. fj r kat\\zs passed at* ** * House? I sir.pose that / am to know, and ' pars fufof the conference. I regrej that your * * * *s will detain you so late, but I suppose you wfl] Le at Lady Jersey's. I am going earlier with Hobhouse. You recollect dial to-morrow we sup and see Kcan. R P. S. Two to-morrow is die hour of pugilism." 10 LETTER CCXXIV. TO MH. MOORE. "May 25 1SI4 "1 must send you the Java government gazette of July 3, 1 813, just sent to me by Mu.-ray. Only think of our (for it i you and I) setting paper wirriors in array in the Indian -•as. Does not this sound late fame — something almost ,r posterity? It is^omcthing to have scribblers squabbling ihoul us 5000 miles otl^ while we are agreeing so well at '•ime. Bring i' with you in your pocket; it will make you iitugh,as it hath me. ■Ever yours, "B. ■ P. S. Oh, the anecdote ! * * * *. * &Jin Foote'i fim efi«iirante. 74 LETTERS, 1814. LETTER CCXXV. TO MR. MOORE. "May 31, 1814. "As I shall probably not see you here to-day, I write to request that if not inconvenient to yourself, yuu will stay in town till Sunday; if not to gratify me, yet to please a great many others, who will be very sorry to lose you. As for myself, I can only repeat that I wish you would either remain a long time with us, or not come at all ; for these smitrfies of society make the subsequent separations bitterer than ever. U I believe you think that I havo not been quite fair with that Alpha and Omega of beauty, &C with whom you would willingly have united me. But if you consider what her sister said on the subject, you will less wonder that my pride should have taken the alarm; particularly as nothing but tho every-day flirtation of ev< ry-'lav people ever occurred between your heroine and myself Had Lady * * appeared to wish it, or even not to oppose it, 1 would have gone on, and very possibly married (that is, iT the other had been equally accordant) with the same indifference which has frozen over the 'Black Sea' of almost all my passions. It is that very indifference which makes ine so uncertain and apparently capricious. It is not eagerness of new pursuit: hut that nothing impresses me sufficiently toji-z; neither do I feel disgusted, but simply indifferent to almost all excite- ments. The proof of this is, that obstacles, the slightest even, stop me. This can hardly be limvlitu, for I hare done some impudent things too, in my time; and in almost all cases, opposition is a stimulus. In mine, it is not; if a straw were in my way, I could not stoop to pick it up. "I have sent this long tirade, because I would not have you suppose that I have been trifling designedly with you or others. If you think so, in the name of St. Hubert (the patron of antlers and hunters) let me be married out of hand — I don't care to whom, so that it amuses any body else, and don't interfere with ine much in the daytime. ■Ever,&c.' LETTER CCXXVI. TO MR. MOORE. "June 14, 1814. "I covldbc very sentimental now, but I won't. The truth is, that I have been all my life trying to harden mv heart, and have not yet quite succeeded — though there arc great hopes — and you do not know how it sunk with your depar- ture. What adds to my regret is having seen so little of you during your stay Ul this crowded desert where one ought to he able to bear diirst like acamel, — the springs are so few, and most of them so muddy. "The newspapers will tell you all that is to be told of emperors, &C. They have dined, and supped, and shown their flat faces in all thoroughfares, and several saloons. Their uniforms are very becoming, but rather short in the skirts; and their conversation is a catechism, for which and the answers I refer you to those who have heard it. U I think of leaving town tor New-stead Boon. If so, I ghaJJ not lie remote from your recess, and (unless Mrs. M. detains you at home over die caudle-cup and a new era! lie.) we will meet. You shall come ti . me, or I to you, as you like it ; but meet we will. An invitation from Aston has reached me, but I do not think I shall go. I have also heard of * * * — I should like to see her again, for I have not met her for years; and though 'the light that ne'er can shins again' is set, I do not know that 'one dear smile like those of old' might not make me for a moment forget the 'dulnesa 1 of life's stream.' ■ I am going to JR. * *'s to-night — to one of those suppers which i ought to be dinners.' I have hardly seen her, and never him, since you set out. I told you, you were the last link of that chain. As for * *, we have not svllabled one another's names since. The post will not permit me to continue my scrawl. More anon. • Ever, dear Moore, &c. *P. S. Keep die Journal, I care not what becomes of it, and if it has amused you, I am glad that I ke|rt it. ' Lara' is finished, and I am copying him tor my third vol. now collecting ; but no separate publication." NOTE TO MR. MURRAY. "June 14, 1814. 8 1 return your packet of tins morning. Have you heard that Bertrand has returned to Paris with the account of Napoleon's having lost his senses ? It is a report; but, if true, I must, like Mr. Fitzgerald and Jeremiah, (of lament- able memory,) lay claim to prophecy ; that istosav.of saying that he ougfii to go out of his senses, in the penultimate stanza of a certain Ode, — the which, having been pronounced nonsense' by several profound critics, has a still further pro* tension, by its uninteHigibility, to inspiration. LETTER CCXXVII. TO MR. ROGERS. "June 19, 1814. °I am always obliged to trouble you with my awkward- nesses, and now I have a fresh one. Mr. W.* called on me several times, and I have missed die honour of making his acquaintance, which 1 regret, but which you, who knew mv desultory and uncertain habits, will not wonder at, and will, I am sure, attribute lo any thing but a wish to offend a person who has shown me much kindness, and possesses character and talents entitled to general respect. My mornings are late, and passed in fencing and boxing, and a variety of most uit poetical exercises, very wholesome, etc ; but would be very disagreeable to my friends, whom I um obliged to exclude during their operation. I never co out till the evening, and I have not been fortunate enough to meet Mr. W. at Lord Lansdowne's or Lord Jersey's, where I had hoped to pay him my respects. u I would have written to him, but a few words from w u will go further than all the apologelical sesnuipcdalihes I could muster on die occasion. It is onry to say mat, without intending it, I contrive to behave very iU to every bodv, and am Veiy sorry for it. . "Ever, dear R. &c" The following undated notes to Mr. Rogers were wrkti o about this time. c Sunday "Your non-attendance at Connne's is very apropos, a;< I was on the eve of sending you an excuse. I do not feel well enough to go there this evening, and have Ken to despatch an apology. 1 believe I need not add one for not accepting Mr. Shenaan^s invitation on Wednesday, which I fancy both you and I Understood in the same sense }— with him the-saving of Mirabeau, that l words are Hang*} is not to be taken literally. ■ Ever, fee. "I will call for you at a quarter before seven, if that will suit you. I return yon Sir Proteus,f and shall merely add "n return, as Johnson said of, and to, somebody or other Are wo alive after all this censure? 1 " Believe me, &c." * Tuosday 8 Sheridan was yesterday, at first, too sober to remembe* your invitation, but in the dregs of the third botde he fished up his memory. The Stat'l out-talked Wbitbread, was ironed by Sheridan, confounded Sir Humphrey, and utteily perplexed your slave. The rest (grea'. names in the red * Mr. Wranpham. t A »&Uri L «l (lJ in l 4ikt,l[] which all Oi«»nt*r§ot Jitdjj t _<* ntlMtd. LETTERS, 1814. 75 book, nevertheless) were mere segments of the circle. Ma'mselle danced a Russ saraband with great vigour grace, and expression. a liver, &c. n NOTE TO Mil. MURRAV. "June 21, 1814. * I suppose ' Lara 1 is gone to the devil, — which is no great matter, only let me know, that I may be saved the trouble <>f copying the rest, and put the first part into the fire. I really have no anxiety about it, and shall not be sorry to be saved the copying, which goes on very slowly, and may prove to you that you may speak oul~~ot I should be less slugg.Ji. a Yours, Sic," LETTER CCXXVIU. TO MR. ROGERS. c June 27,1814. * You could not have made me a more acceptable pre- sent man Jacqueline, — she is all grace, and softness, and poetry ; there is so much of the last, that we do not feel the want of story, which is simple, yet enough. I wonder that you do not oftener unbend to more of the same kind. I have some sympathy with the softer affections, though very little in my way, and no one can depict them so truly and successfully as yourself. I have Haifa mind to pay you in kind, or rather unkind, for I have just ' supped full of horror' in two Cantos of darkness and dismay. 'Do you go to Lord Essex's to-uighl ? if so, will you let me call fir you at your own hour '? I dined with Holland- house yesterday at Lord Cowper's ; my lady very gracious, which she can be more than any one when she likes. 1 was not sorry to see them again, for 1 can't forget that they have been very kind to me. "Ever yours most truly, " Bn. c P. S. Is there any chance or possibility of making it up with Lord Carlisle, as I feel disposed to do any thing reasonable or unreasonable to effect it ? I would before, but for the ' Courier,' and the possible misconstructions at such a lime. Perpend, pronounce.'' LETTER CCXXIX. TO MR. MOORE. "July 8, 181-1. M returned to town last night, and had some hopes of seeing you to-day, and would have called, — but I have been (though in exceeding distempered aood health) a little head- achy with free living, as it is called, and am now at the freezing point of returning soberness. Of course, I should be sorry that our parallel lines did not deviate into inter- section before you return to the country, — after that name DODSuit whereof die papers have told us, — but, as you must be much occupied, I won't be affronted, should your time and business militate against our meeting. •Rogers and I have almost coalesced into a joint invasion of the public. Whether it will take place or not, I do not yet know, and I am afraid Jacqueline (which is very beau- tiful) wiH be in bad company.* But, m this case, the lady will not be the sufferer. k I am going to the sea, and then to Scotland ; and I have been doing nothing, — that is, no good, — and am very truly, &c." LETTER CCXXX TO MR. MOORE. • I suppose, by your non-appearance, that the philosophy of my note, and the previous silence of the writer, have put * Lnn and Jacqueline, liie Ullvr by Mr. Rugir», lxK.li appears*! in the •ante volume. or kept you in humeur. Never mind — it is hardly worth while. M This day have I received information from my man of law of the non — and never likely to be — performance of purchase* by Mr.Claughton, of iznpecuniary memory. He don't know what to do. or when to pay ; and so all mv hopes and worldly projects and prospects are gone to the devil. He (the purchaser, and the devil too, for aught I care) and I, and my legal advisers, are to meet to-morrow, — the said purchaser having first taken special care to inquire ' whe- ther I would meet him with temper?* — Certainly. The question is this — I shall either have the estate back, which is as good as ruin, or I shall go on with him dawdling, which is rather worse. I have brought my pigs to a Mus- sulman market. If I had but a wife now, and children, of whose paternity I entertained doubts, 1 should be hap- py, or rather fortunate, as Candide or Scarmentado. In the mean time, if you don't come and see me, I shall think that Sam's bank is broke too ; and that you, having assets there, arc despairing of more than a piastre in the pound for your dividend. " Ever,&c M NOTE TO MR. MURRAY. •July 11, 1814. " You shall have one of the pictures. I wish you to send die proof of ' Lara 1 to Mr. Moore, 33, Bury-street, to-night. as he leaves town to-morrow, and wishes to see it before he goes ; and I am also willing to have the benefit of his re- marks. * Yours, &c. n NOTE TO MR. MURRAY. -July IS, 1S14. "I think you will be satisfied even to repletion with our northern friends,f and I won't deprive you longer of what I think will give you pleasure: for my own part, my modesty or my vanity must be silent. "P. S. If you could spare it for an hour in the evening, I wish you to send it up to Mrs. Leigh, your neighbour, at the London Hotel, Albemarle-streeL. 11 LETTER CCXXXI. TO MR. MURRAY. c July 23, 1814. *I am sorry to say that the print J is by no means ap- proved of by those who have seen it, who are pretty con- versant with the original, as well as the picture from whence it is taken. I rather suspect that it is from the copy and not the exltibited portrait, and in this dilemma would recommend a suspension, if not an abandonment of the prefixion to the volumes which you purpose inflicting upon the public. a With regard to Ijira don't be in any hurry. I have not yet made up my mind on die subject, nor know what to think or do till I hear from you ; and Mr. Moore appeared to me in a similar state of indelermination. I do not know that i. may not he better to reserve it for the entire publication you promised, and not adventure in hardv singleness, or ever backed by the fairy Jacqueline. I have been seized with all kinds of doubts, &c. &c. since I left London. "Pray let me hear from you, and believe me, &c." LETTER CCXXXIL TO MR. MURRAY. •July 24, 1814. "The minority must, In this case, carry it, so pray let it be so, for I don't care sixpence for any of the opinions you mention, on such a subject ; and Plullips must be a dunce to • Purchase of Newslead Abbey. See letter 141. * Hi b i '■ refen lo *a article in ihe Dumber of the Edinburgh Review Just then pabfohecl, (No. IS ) m itw Uomirand Bride of Abydoi. ; An BOpUTiNi by Agar from Phillipi't portrait of bun. 76 LETTERS, ISIL agree wiih them. For my own part, I have no objection at all ; but Mrs. Leigh and my cousin must be better judges of the likeness than others; awl they hate it; and so L won't have it at all. ■Mr. Hobhrjuse is right as for his conetusion ; but I deny the premises. The name only is Spanish; 4 the country is not Spain, but the Morea. ■Waverlcy l- the besl an I mosl intere ting novel I have red.!'- since — I don't kttOW WDC11. I like it as much 0£ I hate ' ', and * *,and * *»and all the feminine trash of the bat four months. Besides, it is all easy to me, 1 'nave been in Scotland so much, (though thon young enough too,) and feel at home with the people, Lowland and Gael. V\ DOtewiD correct what Mr. Hobh use thinks an error, (about the feudal system in Spain ;) il is not Spain. If he nuts a few words of prose any where, it will set all i ight "1 bave been ordered to town to vote. I shall disobey. There is no good in so much prating since 'certain issues strokes should arbitrate.' ll'you have any thing to say, let roe bear from you. * Yours, &c." LETTER CCXXXIII. TO Mil- Mt'BIl.VV. * Aug. 3; 1814. ■Itis certainly a little evtraordinary that you have not sent the Edinburgh Renew, as I requested, and hoped it would not require a note a day to remind you. Is. tv*:tnents of Lara and Jacqueline; pray, why? when I re- qiic .ted von lo ;nisijiniic publication till my return to town. a [ have a most amusing epistle from the Kttnek bard — Hi: j ; in which, spv many words, 'G — d d — nhim and them bofh. 1 This is a pretty prelude to asking you to adopt him (the said II <%<* :) but this he wishes ; and it" you please, you and 1 w ill talk it over. He has a poem rea Iv lor the press, (and your lulls too, if '/i/iable,') and bestows some benedictions on Mr. Moore f>r (us abJueiini of Lara from the forthcoming Miscellany. "P. S. Sincerely, I think Mr. Hogg would suit youverj well ; and surely he is a man of great power-, and da serving nf ericeurageTaent. I mast knockout a tale lor him, and von ihould al all events consider before you reject his suit. Scotl B gone to the Orkneys in a gale of wind, antl Hogg says that, during the said gale, 'he is sure thai Scotl is, noi quite at his ease, to say the best of it.' Ah! [wish these home-keeping bar. Is could taste a Mediterranean white squall, or the < Jut in a gale of wind, or even the 1 fay >f Biscay with no wind at all." LETTER CCXXXIV. T/O MR. MOORE. "Hastings, Au«. S, 1SI4. "By the time this reaches your dwelling, 1 shall (God wot) be in town again probably. I have here been re- iu-w mo my acquaintance with mv old friend I >ei*an ; i ■ i ■ I I find his bo*>m as pleasant a pillow for an hour in the morn- ing as his daughters of Paphos could be in the tw ill t1 [have been swimming and eating turbot, and smuggling neat brandies and silk handkerchiefs, — and listening to jn\ friend Hodgson's raptures about a pretty wife-elect of his, — and walking on cliffs, and tumbling down hills, and making the most of the 'dolcefarni ite' for the last fortnight. I met a son of Lord Brskine's, who says hi has been marrii da year, and is die : men ;' and I have met the aforesaid II. who is also the ( happi< si of men; 1 so, it is worth while being here, if only to witness the superlative felicity of these to,\<-s, wlio have cut oil' their tails, and would persuade the rest to part with their brushes to keep them ui countenance. ' AUuilinii to Lw*. "It rejoiceth me that you like 'Lara/ Jeffrey s ont with his forty-fifth number, which I suppose you have »ot. He is only loo kind to me, in my share of it, and 1 begin to fancy n> . ■ n pheasant, upon the strength of the phjDinge wherewhn he hath bedecked me. But then, 'smgrtarnarV &c — the genlk men of theChampioni and Perry, have got luld (( know not how) of the condo- latory address to La Iv J. on U* •abduction by oui Uegent, and have published tbcm — with my name, Iota smack — without even asJriug leave, or mquhine whether or no! D — n their impudence, and d — n --wry thing. It has put me out of patience, and so I shall say no mora about it.* •Too shall hnve Lara and Jacuue (both with some additions) when out, but I am -still demurring and de- laying] an I in a fuss, and so i-- Hi igers in ins way. - N--W :. a I is to l"' mine again. Clanghton forfeits twenty-five thousand pounds; bul that dm ft. prevent (no from being very prettily runad. I mean to bury wysi ; tlnre — dihl let mv beard grow — and hate you ail. "Ob! I have bad the most amusing letter from Hogg the Ettrick minstrel and shepherd. 1!.- wan*s me to -ecomroend him to Murray, and, speaking ol Ire presenl : Is 1 are never ^lifted,' lie adds /"*/.'<■//* vcrlrix, *G — il d — n him and them both.' I laughed, i a I > i would you too, ai the way w which this extrication was introduced. The said IJogg is a strange being bul of great, though uncouth, powers. I dunk very highly of him as a poet; but he, and half of these Scotch and Lake troubadours, arc spoiled by living in little i ifcles and petty societies. London and the world i.s iheooiy place i .'- the conceit out of a man — in the milling phrase. he said, is gone to the Orkneys in a gale of wind ; — during which what, he affirms, the said Scott, fc he is sure ls not at his ease, — to say the best of it.' Lord, Lord, if these home- keeping minstrels had crossed your Atlantic or my Medi- terranean, and tasted a little open boating in a white squall — or a gale in 'the Gut' — or the 'Bay of Biscay, with no gale at all — how it would enliven and introduce them to a few of the sensations! — to say nothing of an illicit amour or two upon shore, in the way of eSsaj Upt n the Passions, beginning with simple adultery, and com- pounding it as they went along. "1 have forwarded your tetter to Murray* — by the way you had addressed it to Miller, Pray write toracyand say what art thou doing ? ' Not hnisluxl ! — < tons - how i — these 'daws and starts 1 nwst be 'aui "Bed by your grandam,' and arc becoming of any other author. I was sorry to hear of your discrepancy with * *s, or rather, your abjuration of agreement. 1 don't want to be imper- tinent, or buffoon on u serious sul jei i, and am tlierefore at a loss what to say. " I hope nothing wiD mdnce jrou to abate from the proper price "I pour poi in, as long .■ tl ere is I prospect of getting it. Kor my own part, I have .si riwtsly and not wldm (tor that is not mv way — al lea ednotl ibej neither hopes, nor prospects, and ■■■■,.■■■.. even wishes. 1 am, in some respects happy, bul not m a mann i ,: si canorQughl to last, — but enough of that. The worst of it is I feel nuke enervated and indifferent. 1 really do noi know, F Jupiter were to offer me my choice ufthecontcntsofhis benevoleni cask, what I would pick out of it. If I was born run -e -■. say with b l lilvt r spoor in my m (uth, 1 u has stuck ui my throat, and sp >iled my palate so (hat nothing put mto it is swallowed with much reushj — unless H bi cayenne. However. I have grievances enough tooccupv medial way too; but fir fear of adding to yours by this pestilent long diatribe, I postpone the reading them, sine die. Ever, dear AL your-, &C " I*. S. I t.n't forget my godson. You could not have fixed on a liner porter for Ins sins than me, being used tc carry double without inconvenience." * * * • See Poem', p. 161. LETTERS, 1811. 77 LETTER CCXXXV. TO MR. MURRAY. "Aug. 4, 1814. "Nui having received llie slightest answer lo my last three letters, nor the buck (the last number of the Edin- burgh Review ) winch they requested, I presume that you were the unfortunate person* who perished in thi i on Mod lay last, and address this rather to your executors than l --■ I, fcjri-i'iii^ 1 1 iiit v<"i should have had the ill- luck i" be the sole victim on thai joyous oi casion, "1 beg leave then to inform these gen lemen (whoever they may be) that 1 am a little surprise 1 at the previous neglect of the deceased, and alsoal ob erviug an advertise- ment of an approaching publication on Saturday next, against the which X protested, and do protest, for die present. "Yours, (or theirs,) &c. "B." LETTER CCXXXVI. TO MR. MUKKAV. "Aug. 5, 1814. °The Edinburgh Review is arrived — thanks. I enclose Mr. Hnbhouse's letter, from which you wifl perci work you have made. However,! have done: you must send r i iv rhymes to the devil your own way. It seems also that LheTaitfiful and spirited likeness' is another of your publications. I wish you joy of it ; but it is no like- ness — that is the point. Seriously, if I have delayed your join ncy to Seodand, I am sorry that you carried your com- , ;e so far; particularly as upon trifles you have a more summary method; — witness the grammar of Hob- house's L Inf of ;:i iv-ii-,' v. Inch has put him and mc into a fever. "Hogg must translate his own word-: * lifting? is a quota ion from his letter, together with l G — dd — n,'&c. wl ich I suppose requires no translation. "I was unaware of the contents f -Mr. Moore's letter ; I think your offer very handsome, but 'if that you and he milsl judge, [f he can get more, you won't wonder that he should accepl it. ■Out with Lara since it must be. The tome looks prettj enough — on the outside. I shall hem town next urrk, and in the mean tune wish you a pleasant journey. "Yours, &c." LETTER CCXXXVII. TO MR. MOORE. tt Aug. 12,1814. c 1 was not alone, nor will he while I can help it. New- ,ii not yet decided. Claughton is to make a grand effbi i by Saturday week to complete, — if not, he must give up twenty-five thousand pounds, and the estate, with ex- : ii ,&C. &C. If I resume the Abbacy, you shall have tfue notice, and a ceil set apart for your reception, with Q pious welcome. Rogers I have not seen, bul Larry and Jaekv came out a few days ago. Of their effect, I know nothing. a * * * * * *There is something very amusing iri your being an Edinburgh Reviewer. You know. I suppose, that Thurlow is none of the placidest, and may possibly enact some tragedy on being told thai he is onl) a fool. I£ now, Jeffrey were to be slain ou accounl of an article of yours, there would be a fine conclusion. For my part, as Mrs. Winifred Jenkins says 'he has done the handsome thing by me,' particularly, in his last number; so, he b the best of men und the ablest of critics, and I won't have him killed, — though I dare say many wish lie were, for being so good- humoured. "Before I left Hastings, I got in a passion with an ink bottle, which I f^ung out of the window one night with a vengeance; — and what then? why, next morning I was horrified by seeing that it had struck, and split upon, die petticoat of Euterpe's graven image in the garden, and grimed her as if it were on purpose.* Cnlv thuik of my distress, and — the epigrams that might be engendered en die Must- and her mi-adventure. "1 had an adventure, almost as ridiculous, at some private theatrii al near Cambridge — tfiongh of a different descrip- tion — since I saw you last. I quarrelled with a man in the .lark for asking me who I was (insolently enough, to bo sure,) and followed him into the green-room (a Halle) in a rage, among a set of people 1 never saw befbie. He turned out to he a low comedian, en aged to act with the amateurs, and to be a civil-spoken man enough, when he found out that nothing very pleasant was to be got by rudeness. But you would have been amused with the row, and the dialogue, and the dress — or rather die undress — of the party, where I hat! introduced myself in a devil of a hurry, and the asto- nishment that ensued. I had gone out of the theatre, for coolness, into the garden ; there I had tumbled over some logs, and, coming away from them in very ill-humour, en- countered the man u» a worse, which produced all llus confusion, " Well — and why don't you 'launch V — Now is your time The people are tolerably tired w ith me, and not very much enamoured of Wordsworth, who has just spawned a quarto of metaphysical blank verse, w Inch is nevertheless only a part of a poem. " Murray talks of divorcing Larry and Jacky — a bad si»n f r the authors, who, I suppose, will be divorced too, and irow the blame upon one another. Seriously, I don't care a cigar about ir, and I don't see why Sam should. Let me hear from and of you and my godson. Tf a daughter, the name will do quite as well. * * * "Ever, Sec." LETTER CCXXXVItl. TO MR. MOORE. "Aug. 13, 1814. "I wrote yesterday to Mayfield, and have just now en* franked your letter to mamma. My slay in town is so un- certain (not later than next week) that your packets tor the north may not reach me; and as I know not exactly where I am going — however, Newstcad is my most probable des- tination, arid if you send your despatches before Tuesday, I can forward them to our new ally. But, after thai day, you had belter not trust to their arrival in time. "* * has been exiled from Tan-, on 'lit, for saying the Bourbons were old women. The Bourbons might have been content, I think, with returning the compliment. * * * * "I told you all about Jacky and Larry yesterday; — tl.ey are to be separated, — at least, so says the grand Murray, and I know no more of the matter. Jeffrey has done me more than 'justice;' hut as to tragedy — um! — I have no time for fiction at present. A man cannot paint a storm with the vessel under bare poles, on a lee shore. When I <;et to land, I will try what is to be done, and, if I founder, there be plenty of mine elders and belters to console Mel- pomene. "When at Newstcad, you must come over, if only for a day — should Mrs. M. b< eri 'tootle of your presence. The place Is worth seeing, as a r ..i;i, and I can assure you there ■■ fun there, even in my time; but thai is past. The ghosts, however, and the gothics, and the waters, and the desolation, make it very lively still. "Ever, dear Tom, yours, &c." * See uuic lo the tiiuu from Horace, p. 439. lnn»e Jar of ink, into which, not nip. . i do vu w t'"- wi } bottom. I'.u- Ln.iur: it tome out all ameatvrl wi< k, he (tutu iiie lottle -»jt ndow into the garden, when li lighll I, as berewKribed, upou .. . >hi leu , , . i, -t , irora i ■ .hk oiuih baviu£ bceo ( by iodic ixcidout^luO Lwhiud. — Swart* * Himervant had brought hit poring ii Lobe full, b« bad ihrui nuntrf,. ' |)| l)l« V 78 LETTERS, 1814. LETTER CCXXXIX. To MR. MCRRAV. " Newstead Abbey, Sept. 2, 1814. "I am obliged by what you hav« sent, bul would rather not Bee any thing of die kind;* we have hail enough ..l these things already, good and bad, and next month you ,„., i ,„,, trouble yourself to colleol even the higher gene- , a , ,„„_„„ ,„v account. It gives me much pleasure tu hear of Mr. Hobhouse's ami Mr. Merivale's good entreattnenl bv ii„- journ you mention. .. I soil think Wr. Hogg-and yourself might make oul an alliance Dodsfeji's was, 1 believe, the last decent thing of the kind and /its had great success in its day, and lasted several years; but then he had die double advantage of 1U I publishing. The Spleen, and several ol Cut/s odes, much "I' SliLiixlmu; and many others ot :: I repute, made their first i ui his collection. Now, with the support ofScott, Wordsworth, Soulhey.&c. 1 see little reas in why you should not do as well; and II one I url) established, you vt Ihaveassiste i i youngsters, 1 dare say. Stratford Canning (whose 'Buonaparte' is excellent,) and many others, and Moore, ami Hobhouse, and I would try a fall now and then (if permitted,) and you might coax Campbell, too, into it, By-the-by, ..c ha- an unpublished (though printed) m on a scene m German) (Bavaria, I think) which 1 saw last year, thai is perfecUy magnificent, and equal to himself. 1 wonder he don't pub- lish u. ► Oh!— do you recollects * *, the engraver s, mad letter about not engraving Phillips's picture of Lord Foley? (as he blundered if,) well, I have traced it,] think. Itseems, by the papers, n preacher of Johann I ' '■ mi' d /■bleu ; and I can noway ace it for the said S ' " fusion of words and ideas, bul by thai ofhis head's running on Johanna and her apostles. It was a mercy he did not say Lord Tozar. You know, of course, that S * * is a believer in ibis new (old) virgin of spiritual impregnation. "I long to know what she will produce; her being wit] child at sixty-five is indeed a miracle, but her gelling any one to hejet it, a greater. •■ it you were not goingto Parisor Scotland,! could send y,,u some game: if you n m Ii I me know. "P. S. A word or two of 'Lara,' which your enclosure brings before me. It is of no great promise separately ; but, as connect. -.1 with the other tales, it will do very well vol syou mean to publish. I would re t tnd this arrangement— Childe Harold, the smaller Poems, Giaour, Bride, Corsair/Lara; thelasl completes the series, and its »ery likeness rentiers it necessarj to the others. Cawthome writes thai they are publishing Engluh Bardt ui Ireland: pray inquire into this; because it must be slopped." LETTER CCXL. TO MR. MtliK w. 'Kewstead Abbey.Sept. 7,1814. "I should think Mr. Hogg, for Ins own sake as well as yours, would be 'critical' aslago himself in hi edil ria capacity; and that such a publication would answer his purpose, and yours too, with tolerable management You should, however, have a good number to start with— 1 mean, good in quality;ui these days, there can be utile fear of not coming up to the mark in quantity. There must be Aianv 'line things' in Wordsworth J bul 1 should think il difficult to make six quartos (the amount of the wholl ) all fine, particularly the pedlert portion of the [ m; but there can be no doubt of his powers to do almost any thing. «1 em' very idle.' I have read the few books I had with mc, and been'forccd to fish, for lack of argument. I have caught a great many perch, and some carp, which is a comfort, as one would not lose one's labour willingly. I'tt.v, who corrects the press of your volumes 7 I hope ' The Corsair' is printed from the copy I corns first Canto, and some no&ufroi raondi andLavater, whii h 1 gave you loadd thereto. The arrangement is very well. "Mj cursed | pie liawn.it sent my papers since Stoi- dav, audi have lost Johanna's divorce from Jupiter. Who hath gotten her with prophet 1 Is it Sharpe .' and how .' * * * » * * I should like to buy one of her seals: if salvation can be had at half a guinea a head, the landlord of tie Crows and Anchor should be ashamed of himself for charging double for tickets to a mere terrestrial banquet 1 am afraid, se- riously, thai these matters will lend a sad handle to your profane Scoffers, and give a loos, to much damnable laugh- ter. "I have not seen Hunts Sonnets nor Descent ol I he has chpsi n a pretty place wherein toe pose lb) last Let DM hear from you before you embark. Ever, &C. • Tim Roviawi nnd Miig.i-uie.-of the month. LETTER CCXLI. TO MR. MOORE. ■ Newstead Abbey, Sept 15, 1814. "This is the fourth letter 1 have begun to you within the month. Whether I shall finish or not, or burn it like the rest, I know not. When we meet, 1 shall explain why 1 have not written— why 1 have not asked you here, as [ „i s hed— with a great many other whys and wherefores, which will k'-fp cold. In short, you must evens.- all my seemino ,. missions and commissions, and grant me more remission than St. Athanasins will to yourself, if you lop off a single shred of mystery from his pious puzzle. It is my creed (and it may be St. Athanasius's too) that your art* le on T + * will get somebody killed, and that, on the Somtt, gel him d— d afterward, which will be quite .now for one number. Oons, Tom! you must not meddle just now with the incomprehensible,; for if Johanna Southcote turns out to be * * * * * * "Now for a little egotism. My affairs stand thus, to- morrow I shall know whi that a circumstance of importance enough to change many of my plans will occur or not If n does not, 1 am off for Italy next month, and Loud in antime, next week, i have got hack Newstead and twenty-five thousand pounds (out of twenty-eight paid already,)— as a 'sacrifice,' the late purchaser calls it, and he may choose his own name. I have paid some of my debts, and'.. Mil, a. I. .1 others; but] have a few thousand pounds, which I can't spend after im own heart 111 this cuma te, and so, I shall go back to the south. Hobhouse,! think and hop.-, will gowithme; but, whether la- will or not I shall. 1 want to see Venice, and the Alps, and Par- mesan cheeses, and look at the coast of I .... ci or rather Kpirus, fiom Italv, as I once did—or fancied I did— thai of Italy, when offCorfu: All this, however, depends upon an event, which may, or may not, happen. Whether il will, I shall know probably to-morrow, and it" it does, I can't well go abroad at present. "Pray pardon this parenthetical scrawl. 1™ shall hear from me again soon;— I don't call this an answer. " K,.-r most affectionately, &c." The "circumstance of importance,"' to which he alludes in this leti.-r, was his second proposal for Miss Milbanko, of which he was now waiting the result. LETTER CCXLII. TO MR. MOORE. ■Nd.Sept. 15, 1814. «I have written to you one letter to-night, but must send you this much more, as I have not franked my number, to say that I rejoice in my goddaughter, and will send hor a LETTERS, 1814. 79 coral and bells, which. I hope she will accept, the moment I get back to London. " My head is at this moment in a state of conn" ision.from various causes, which I can neither describe nor explain — but let that pass. Mv employments have been very rural — fishing, shooting bathing, and boating. Books I have but few here, and those I have read ten times over, till sick of them. Soj I have taken to breaking soda water bottles with my pistols, and jumping into the water, and rowing over it, and firing at the fowls of the air. But why should I 'monster my nothings' to you who are well employed, and happily too, I should hope. For my part, I am happy too, in my way — but, as usual, have contrived to get into three or four perplexities, which I do not see my way through. But a few days, perhaps a day, will determine one of them. "You do not say a word to me of your Poem. I wish I could see or bear it. I neither could, nor would, do it or iis author any harm. I believe I told you of Larry and Jacquy. A friend of mine was reading— at least a friend of his \\ as reading — said Larry and Jacquy in a Brighton coach. A passenger took up the book and queried as to the author. The proprietor said ' there were tutt — to which the answer of the unknown was, ( Ay, ay — a joint concern, I suppose, mm/not like Stemhold and Hopkins. 1 8 Is not this excellent ? I would not have missed the file comparison' to have scaped being one of the 'Arcades mbo et cantare pares.' Good night. Again yours." LETTER CCXLin. TO MR. MOORE. "New-stead Abbey, Sept. 20, 1SI4. " Here's lo her who long Haiti waked ihe poei'a iigh I Tlir girl WhO gave 10 Snug Whai g"ld could never buy. My dear Moore, I am going to be married — that is, I am accepted, and one usually hopes the rest will follow. My mother of the Gracchi (lhat are to be) you think too strait-laced forme, although the paragon of only children, and invested with 'golden opinions of all sorts of men,' anil full of 'most blessed conditions' as Desdemona herself. Miss Milbanke is the lady, and I have her fathers invitation to proceed there in my elect capacity, — which, however, I can- not do till 1 have settled some business in London, and got a blue coat. "She is said lobe an heiress, hut of that I really k now nothing certainly) and shall not inquire. But I do know, that she has talents and excellent qualities, and you will no' deny her judgment, after having refused sjx suitors and taken me. u Now, if you have any tiling to say against this, pray dp ; my mind's made up, positively fixed, determined, and flu n - fore I will listen to reason, because now it can do no harm. Things may occur to break it off, but I will hope not. In the mean tune, I tell you (a secret, by-the-by, — at least, till I know she wishes it to be public) that I have proposed and am accepted. You need not be in a hurry to wish nie joy, for one may n't be married for months. I am going to town to-morrow; but expect to be here, on my way there, \\ nliiii ;i fortnight. • "If this had not happened I should have gone to Italy. In my way down, perhaps, you will meet me at Notting- ham, and come over with me here. I need not say that nuhing will give me greater pleasure. I must, of course, reform thoroughly; and, seriously, if I can contribute to her happiness, I shall secure my own. She issogood a person, that — that — in short, I wish I was a belter. "Ever,&c." LETTER CCXLIV. TO THE COUNTESS OF * * *. "Albany, Oct. 5,1814. ■ DEAR T,*T>Y * *, ■Your recollection and invitation dome great honour; but I am going to be 'married, and can't come.' My in- tended is two hundred miles off] and the moment my busi- ness here is arranged, I must set out in a great hurry to ba happy. Miss Milbanke is the good-natured person who has undertaken me, and, of course, I am very much in love and as silly as all single gendemen must be in that senti- mental situation. I have been accepted these three weeks ; but when the event will take place, I don t exactly know. It depends partly upon lawyers, who are never in a hurry. One can be sure of nothing; but, at present, there appears no other interruption to this intention, which seems as mu- tual as possible, and now no secret, though I did not tell first, — and alluur relatives are congratulating away to right and left in the most fatiguing manner. "You perhaps know the lady. She is niece to Lady Melbourne, and cousin to Lady Cowper, and others of your acquaintance, and has no fault, except being a great deal too good for me, and that 7 must pardon, if nobody else should. It might have been two years ago, and, if it had, would have saved me a world of trouble. She has em- ployed the interval in refusing about half a dozen of my par- ticular friends (as she did me once, by the way,) and has taken me at last, for which I am very much obliged to her. I wish n was well over, for I do hate bustle, and there is no marrying without some ; — and then I must not marry in a black coat, they tell me, and I can't wear a blue one. "Pray forgive me for scribbling all this nonsense. You know I must be serious all the rest of my life, and this is a parting piece of buffoonery, which I write with tears in my eyes, expecting to be agitated. Believe me most se- riously and sincerely your obliged servant, "Bvron. "P. S. My best rems. to Lord * * on bis return." LETTER CCXLY. TO MR. M00KE. "Oct. 7, 1814. "Notwithstanding the contradictory paragraph in the Morning Chronicle, which must have been sent by * *, or perhaps — I know not why I should suspect Claughton of such a thing, and yet I partly do, because it might interrupt Ins renewal of purchase, if so disposed; in short, it matters not, but we are all in the road to matrimonv — lawyers set- tling, relations congratulating, my intended as kind as heart could wish, and every one, whose opinion I value, very glad of it. All her relatives, and all mine too, seem equally pleased. "Perry was very sorry, and has re-contradicted, as you will perceive by this day's paper. It was, to be sure, a devil of an insertion, since the first paragraph came from Sir Ralph's own County Journal, and ibis in the teeth of it would appear to him and his as my denial. But I have written to do away that, enclosing Perry's letter, which was very polite and kind. w Nobody hates bustle so much as I do ; but there seems a fatality over every scene of my drama, always a row of some sort or other. No matter — Fortune is my best friend, and as I acknowledge my obligations to her, I hope she will treat me better than she treated the Athenian, who took some merit to himself on some occasion, but (after that) took no more towns. In fact, she, that exquisite god- dess, has hitherto earned me through every thing, and will, I hope, now; since I own it will be all her doing. "Well, now for thee. Your article on * * is perfection itself. You must not leave off reviewing. By Jove, I be- lieve you can do any thing. There is v\it, and taste, ant' learning, ami good-humour (though not a whit less sever* for that) in every line of that critique. * * * * * * " Next to your being an E. Reviewer, my being of th« same kidney, and Jeffrey's being such a friend to both, are among the events which I conceive were not calculatea Upon ui Mr. — what's his name?'s — 'Essay on Probabili- ties.' so LETTERS, 1S14. •But, Tom, 1 sajt-Oons! Scott menaces the Lord of ,1,1^.' D umca «■>"* wave hash .upon "<* ■«*! _,;„.. ' " 11.- ..^ i.r(.v',.klll" llll'l her virtues fcc &c. you "ill hoar enough ofthem (f.r she BakindofDnUerainihenorih,) without m; inmg into on u ci. liUwelllhaiomjrfusuofBUC* emorofc of that arucls .'mypartr- ' .ofasiar/uCplW :„.. a .... i '■'" "" b,r v -\ ... . ' Parker* ke was my 6 "" " ■ "<* rela ion I n I me,and I have scribbled and given it to Perry, who will chr le it to-morrow. 1 ; U „; sorry for him as could be for .■ 1 D< Bmce I was a child; but should not have wept melodiously, , i ,.,„ '.„ the request offri rid ■' . «] j,o I out of town and be married, but 1 shall lake Ne ad ... mj vaj .... I ) '-< '' l »» " Nottingham .....1 ac m ""' Aobey. 1 will tell you the day when I know it- Ever, etc. «f> s By the way, my wifc-elect is perfecuon; and I hear of nothing but her merits and her wonders, arid that she is 'very pretty.' Her expectations, I am I peal ; but what, I have not asked. 1 have not seen her .■I. months." UOII iiiiinr. jr> " ... ,, T ' '. what n « " ****** "Tour long delayed and i n Iwork— I sup]) will take nighl al 'The Lord of the Isles' and Spoil now I,..,,,, . . -i . I my say. iouougn tofearcomi « i and any >i Id stare who heard von were so Iremulouar-thougn, aflei lieveit is thesurosl sign of talent. Goodmoming. Ih n a , soon,bui I will write a lapsyou at Nottingham. Praj say so. np.S. If thi duclive, you shall name tno first fruits." LETTER t'i'XLVI. TO MR. BUST. "Oct. 15, Ml ■itr DEtn iiu.nt, b] S end you - ■ game, of which I beg youi ance I ipecify ihe quanlil rwrter; a hare, a pheasant, and two hi which i • *>■ M J s,a% l "'"' ,: ' ],,„. and [am in all I quittingil week on i ■) '" 'achangeol i ,. „ i called i :1 '' tere ' ' ■'".'■"■"" tobemarri l;and im,ofcotirse,ina ihemi mpursuitol happiness, vlt intended] two hundredmdes off and the efforts I am mailing with lawj id, faMi econn ,!,.,„! inveterate habifs, to say nothing ol mdoli prodigious! I sincerely hope you are belter ui ,:,.,..,■ intit idlatelv.and that yo i will find you in fuU health to enjoj it Yoursovei J " I'.v ROB. LETTER CCXLVII. TO Mil. MOOH£. •Oct. 15, 1814. An' Ihnrewere any thing in marriage that would maki adiffeionce between friends i to, pat icularl) in your casej would 'none onV My agent aelsofffor Durham next week, and 1 shall follow him, taking News ead a id you ... my way. 1 certainly did not address Mi Mi - banke with these views, but it islikolj she ma) considerable parti. All her father can give, or li he will in mliei cliildl, n le, Lori Wjntworth, Whosebarony.itissupposed.willdevolveonl.j Milbaoke (hissisler.) .he has expectation . Bullhesewil depend ,.,.,,! ndisposilion.whichseemsveryparlialtowards her. " i " ! I ■■'" ' >h " '" "'' ,1, | „. | by • leclioneering, ai e. Pari ol ihem i , , her; bul wh titer (Aat will b , I w,— thou i '■"" l t0 ,lywill. Thelawyersa them, and I am getting my propel int. m n inialarray, and myself ready for the joume) <■■ Seaham, which I mu i make in ■ week nr ten days. « l a r-.Hi.lv did not dream that sin- was atta hed to me, whirl, n seems she has been for aome time. lal o her of a very cold disposition, in which I was also mistaken —ii is ii long stury, and I won't trouble you with it. As to LETTER i (XI. VIII. TO NK. 11KNKV DKUR.7. "Oct. 19, 1S14. "mv pear rmt'RV, « Many lhanks for your hitherto unadmowledged 'Anec- dotes ' Now for t i" mine— 1 -m going lo be married. andliave bcenen a edthi month. H isalongsb ther'el .re 1 • ' !l "' h ' |mo» it "II lately) a mi r have led since 1 forlheoffs and ona in this now to be arran IVeat andnexl ' ""'-'■ lown '".f 6 *; ham in ihe ne« ' Jar suitor for a wife of mine OV n. . ***** * «Ihoi I [saw him and hi* idol at Hasting. I wish he would be married at Ihe same rime. 1 should like to make a party, ; in ., row, by (or rather through) • on ,, ter-s nan ing the shock at 1 havenol yet ipprrzed hunol Ihts. li,, ,,,,!.,.. uch .. si rious matter of all these ihulgs, and is , 'melancholy and genuemanUke,' that it is quite over- -uming tons choice spirits, *•..* * * •■•, :„ ) , . ne si dn'l be married in a black coaL I , blue bnej — lhat'a fiat. 1 hate it. « VulilS,&C." LETTER CCXLIX. i,. ui'.VELL. "Oct. 22, 1S14. * mv Dl 1 R l '•'.."•I ■Many an I sincere thanks for yourl ind letter— die bet, was one hundred to Uawke, and fitly tc Hay (u : > receivedfr *chof the two former. 4 I sliallfeel much obliged by your setting « i i ' anj ■•' have ret - for wishing you to reco led us eh ible of what passed, and state ittoHodgson. Mj inn,- ago Mr. ' I » bet ol ma which [never ms le, and of course re I opay,andhave ,, m ■ ,1 n : to pi went - ir mi lake* ,- my oth iect in wis ling you toren borwell what passed, and to put Hodgson in p issesa ryour inenjory on ihe subject, «I hope i i iei you - t »' mj "" "nrough Cambridge. Remember me to H. and believe me ever and truly, be Potli 1W. • Heh»di.irr«odU) brfeil KM nu t« U» pcnoiiiiMoUMied.iliiwUI be ever iniury. LETTERS, 1815. 61 LETTER COL. TO MR. MOORE. * Dec- 14, 1814. * MY DEAREST TOM, *I will Bend the pattern to-morrow, and since you dnn'i go to our friend ('of the keeping part of the town 1 ) this evening I shall een sulk at home over a solitary potation. My selfopurioa rises much by your eulogy of my social qualities. As mv friend Scrope is pleased to say, I befceve I am verv well for a ' holyday drinker. 1 Where the devil are you '/ with Wodkidge, I conjecture — for which, you de- serve Knottier abscess. Hoping that the American war will last for many years, and that all the prizes may be registered at Bermoothes, believe me, &c. -l\ S, I have just been composing an epistle to the archbishop for an especial license. Oons! it looks serious. Murray is impatient to see you, and would call, if you will give bun audience. Your new coat ! — I wonder you like lite colour, and dont go about, like Dives, in purple.'" LETTER CCLI. TO MR. MURRAY. "Dec 31, 1814 * A thousand thanks for Gibbon: all the additions are very great improvements. ■ At last, I must be most peremptory with you about the print from Phillips's picture: it is pronounced on all hands the most stupid and disagreeable possible ; so do, pray, have a new engraving, and let me see it first ; there really must be no more from the same plate. I don't much care, my- self; but every one I honour torments me to death about it, nd abuses it to a degree beyond repeating. Now, don't answer with excuses ; but, for my sake, have it destroyed I never shall have peace till it is. I write m the greatest haste. •P. S. 1 have written this most illegibly; but it is to beg you to destroy the print, and have another ' by particular desire.' It must be d — d bad, to be sure, since every body says so but the original ; and he don't know what to say. But do do it: that is, burn the plate, and employ anew either from the other picture. This is stupid and sulky." LETTER CCLII1. LETTER CCLIL TO MR. NATHAN. "Jan. 7, 1815. r DEAR NATHAN, 'Murray, being about to publish a complete edition of my poetical effusions, has a wish to include the stanzas of the Hebrew Melodies. "Will you allow him that privilege without considering it an infringement on your copyright? I certainly wish to oblige the gentleman, but you know Nathan, il is a gainst all good fashion to give and take back. I therefore cannot giant what is not at my disposal. Let me hear fruin you on the subject. Dear Nadian, "Yours truly, "By ron* LETTER CCLIV. TO MR. MOORE. ■Halnaby, Darlington, Jan. 10, 1815. B I was married this day week. The parson has pro- nounced it — Perry lias announced it — and the Morning Post, also, under the head of* Lord Byron's marriage' — as if it were a fabrication, or the puff-direct of a new stay- maker. " Now for thine affairs. I have redde thee upon the Fathers, and it is excellent well. Positively, you must not leave off reviewing. You shine in it — you kill in it ; and this article has been taken for Sydney Smith's (as 1 heard in town,) which proves not only your proficiency in parson- ology, but that you have all the airs of a veteran critic at your first onset. So, prithee, go on and prosper. t( Scott's * Lord of the Isles' is out — ' the mail-coach copy I have, by special license of Murray. * ***** "Now is your time: — you will come upon them newly and freshly. It is impossible to read what you have lately done (verse or prose) without seeing that you have trained on tenfold. * * has floundered ; * * has foundered. / have tired the rascals (i. e. the public) with my Harrys and Larrys, Pilgrims and Pirates. Nobody but Southey has done any tiling worth a slice of bookseller's pudding ; and lie has not luck enough to be found out in doing a good thing. Now, Tom, is thy time — ' Oh joyful day ! — I would not take a knighthood for thy fortune.' Let me hear from you soon, and believe me ever, Sec. "P.S. Lady Byron is vastly well. How are Mrs. Moore and Joe Atkinson's 'Graces V We must present our wo- men to one another." TO MR. MURRAY. ■Kirkby, Jan. 6, 1815. tt 17tc marriage took place on the 2d instant; so pray make haste and congratulate away. " Thanks f<>r the Edinburgh Review and the abolition of the print. Let the next be from the oUier of Phillips — I mean {not the Albanian, but) the original one in the exhi- bition ; the last was from Ule copy. I slwuld wish my sisler and Lady Byron to decide upon the next, as they found fault with the last /have no opinion of my own upon the subject. "Mr. Kinnaird will, I dare say, have the goodness to furnish copies of the Melodies,* if you state my wish upon the subject. You may have them, if you think them worth inserting. The volumes in their collected state must be inscribed to Mr. Hobhouse, but I have not yet mustered the expressions of my inscription ; but will supply them ji time. " With many thanks for your good wishes, which have all Seen realized, I remain very truly, "Yours, " Byron." LETTER CCLV. TO MR. MOORE. "Jan. 19, 1815. "Egad ! I don't think he is 'down :' and my prophecy — like most auguries, sacred and profane — is not annulled, but inverted. * * * * * * ■ To your question about the ' dog'*— Umph ! — my ( mo- ther I won't say any tiling against — that is, about her ; but how Ion" a * mistress' or friend may recollect paramours or competitors (lust and thirst being the two great and only bonds between the amatory or the amicable,) I can't say, — or, rather, you know as well as I could tell you. But as for canine recollections, as far as I could judge by a cur of mine own (always bating Boatswain, the dearest, and, alas ! the maddest of dogs,) 1 had one (half a wolf by the she side) that doted on mc at ten years old, and very nearly ate me ■ Tha Hebrew Melodies which he l»»d employed himself to writing AunuM hU recent nay in London- 11 • Mr Mowe had lust been reAding Mr. Soulhey's poem of " Rode- rick," and with reference lo an iiici.lrni ... it, Ud p«-t U» l«:iow n.e omm- [lon to 1 orf Byron-" I should like to know from t/ou, wltoone one ol ihe Pliiloeyiiic meet, whether il is ul all probable, thai any dog (onl of a mclo- drumel could recoenise n mailer, whom neither his own mother or mi«- UCMWU able to find out. 1 don't care about Ulysses'i doe, 4 c— all I want is to know from y -w (who art renown'd m ' friend of lb* dof, com- Ipaiiujuof U»t0«ir,| wnetoer»«ch»U.uuils t 'rob«tle." S2 LETTERS, 1915. a; tw. nty. When I tJiought he was going to enact Argus, he bit away the backside of my breeches, and never would consent to any kind of recognition, in despite of all-kinds of bones which 1 offered him. So, let Southey blush, and Homer too, as far as I can decide upon quadruped memo- ries. 141 K I humbly take it, the mother knows the son that pays her jointure — a mistress her mate, till he * + and refuses salary — a friend bis fellow, till he loses cash an 1 character, and a dog his master, till be changes him, "So, you want to kn >w about Milady and me? But let me not, as Roderick Random says, 'profane the chaste mysteries of Hymen'f — damn die word, I had nearly spelled it with a small h. I like Bell as well as you do (or did, you villain '.) Bessy — and that is (or was) saying a gnat deal. " Address your next to Seahani, Stockton-on-Tees, where we are going on Saturday (a bore, by-the-way) to see father-in-law, Sir Jacob, and iny lady's lady-mother. Write — and write more at length — both to the public and * Yours ever roost affectionately, a B." LETTER CCLV1. TO MR. 3IOORE. "Seaham, Stockton-on-Tees, Feb. 2, 1815. •I have heard from London that you have lefl ChatS- worth and all the women full of ( ciitusymusy'J about you, personally and poetically ; and, in particular, that ' When first I met thee 1 has been quite overwhelming in its effect. I told you it was one of the best things you sverwrote, though that dog Power wanted you to omit part of it. They are all regretting your absence at Chatswortb, according to mv informant — 'all the ladies quite, &c. &c.&c.' Stap nn vitals ! "Well, now you have got home again — which I dare- say is as agreeable as a 'draught of cool small beer to the scorched palate of a waking sot? — now yon have got home again, I say, probably I shall hear from you. Since I wrote last, I have been transferred to my father-in-law's, with my lady and lady's maid, &C. &c. &C and the treacle- moon is over, and I am awake, and find myself married My spouse and I agree to — and in — admiration. Swili says 'no wise man ever married; 1 but, for a fool, I think it the most ambrosial of all possible future staler I still think one ought to marry upon lease; but am very sure I should renew mine at the expiration, though next term were t> ninety and nine years. "I wish you would respond, for I am here 'oblitusque meorum obliviscen Ins et Mis. 1 Pray tell me wh it is going on in the way ofintriguery, and how the w s and rogues of the upper Beggars Opera go on — or rather good- — ui or after marriage; or who are going to break any particular commandment. Upon this dreary coast, we have nothing but county meetings and shipwrecks ; and I have this daj dined upon fish, which probably dined upon the crews of several colliers lost in the late «al"s. IJut I saw Uie sea Once more in all the glories of surf and foam, — almost equal to the Bay of Biscay, and the interesting white squalls and short seas Of Archipelago memory. "My papa, Sir Ralpho, hath recently made a Durham tax-meeting; and not only at Durham, but here, several times since, after dinner. He is imw, l believe, speaking it to himself (1 left him in the middle) over various decanters, wliich can neither interrupt him nor fall asleep, — as might possibly have been the case with some of his audience. "Ever thine, "H." "I must go to tea— damn tea. I wish it was Kinnaird's brandy, and with you to lecture me about it." LETTER CCLVII. TO MK. Ml'RHAV. ■Sraham, Stockton-upon-Tees, Feb. 2, 1815. "You will oblige me very much by maknlf inquiry at Albany, at my chambers, whether my I ks Stc. are kept in tolerable* order] and how far my old woman* continues in health and industry as keeper of my ■ Vour parcels have been duly receiver! and perused ; bul I had hoped to receive 'Guy MRnnering 1 before Una time 1 won't intrude further for the present on your avocations professional or pleasurable, but am, as usual, "Very truly, &c" LETTER CCLVI1I. TO MR. .MOORE. •Feb. < 1815. "I enclose you half a letter from * * which "ill explain itself — at least the latter part — the firmer refers to private business of mine own. Lf Jeffrey will take such an article, and you will undertake the revision, or, indeed, any portion of the article itself (for unless > t<-|| him that it is u >t mine ; bul that, it' I did not firmly and truly bi hove it to I"' much better than I could offer, 1 would never have troubled him or you about it. You can judge In 'tween you how far it is admissible, and reject it, if not of the right sort. For my own part, I have no interest in the article one way or the other,further than to oblige * *, and should the composition be a good one, it can hurt neither party, — nor, indeed, any one, saving and excepting Mr. ***'*. ****** "Curse catch me if 1 know what H * * me i meaned about the demonstrative pronoun,^ hut I admire your fear of being inocul iled with the same. Have rou never found out that you have a particular Btyle of your own, wluch is as distinct (rom all other people, as I [afw of Shiraz from Hafia or the Morning I ' ■So '."i, allowed B - * and such like to hum and haw you, i>r, rather, 1 .a ly Jersey 6ul of her compliment, and me out of mine.} Sunburn me bul this was pitiful hearted. However, 1 will tell her all about it when I see her. B Hell desires me to say all kinds of civilities, and assure you of her recognition and high consideration. 1 will tell you of our movements south, which may be in about three •eeks from this present writing. By-the-way, don 1 ! en- elf i iv 1 1 a veiling t-xp"diiion,as 1 have a plan of travel into Italy, which we will discuss. And then, think oi" the poesy wherewithal we should overflow, from Venice * Don Jnun, ranto 3, ulanwi 23, letter 92. 1 The letter H in bWted in Uu MSI. J It WMthnsihul, according to hi« account, Mr. Graham, UW Celebrated ■toseroarl actor uwkA rraqaeutly U> ironounce the word "enlhueiaMB.'* * Mrs. Mule, his hoii&ekei*|«r, t Some remark whldi had becu made with reepec: to the frcminit use o( It i MNiliv,- |.t i. I.uili hv Liinm-II I l,\ Nn \V. SCOU. ; Veme u Ladj Jeraej (couulnlnj m elluel >g i i LonlByrau,) w).ich Mr. Moure had written, while at t'tuiewortli, but aflerwanie dteuoyau LETTERS, 1815. 83 to Vesuvius, to say nothing of Greece, through all which — Gud willing — we might perambulate in one twelvemonth. If I take my wife, you can take yours; and if I leave mine, you may do the same. 'Mind you stand by me, in either case, Brother Bruin.' "Auil believe me inveterately yours, B B." LETTER CCLX. TO BLR. MOORE. •Feb. 22, 1815. TesterJaVjI sentofTthe packet and letter to Edinburgh. It consisted of forty-one pages, so that 1 have not added a line; but in my letter, I mentioned what passed between you and dm in autumn, as my inducement for presuming to trouble him either with my own or * *'s lucubrations. I am any thing but sure that it will do; but I have told Jeffrey that if there is any decent raw material in it, he may cut it into what shape he pleases, and warp it to his liking. " So you toon 1 ! go abroad, then, with me, — but alone. I fully purpose starting much about the time you mention, and ali me, too. ****** tt I hope Jeffrey won't think iriervery impudent in sending k * only; there was not room for a syllable. I have avowed * * as die author, and said that you thought or said, when I mel you last, that he (J.) would not be angry at the coali- tion (though, alas! we have not coalesced,) and so, iff have got into a scrape, I must get out of it- — Heaven knows how. "Your Anacreon* is come, and with it I sealed (its first Impression) the packet and epistle to our patron. "Curse the Melodies, and the Tribes to boot. Braliam is to assist — or bath assisted — but will do no more good than a second physician. I merely interfered to oblige a whim of Kinnaird's, ami all I have got by it was 'a Speech 1 and a receipt (be stewed oysters. ■ Not in- ri' — pray don't say so. We must meet some- where or somehow. Newstead is out of the question, being nearly sold again, or, if not, it is uninhabitable for my spouse. Pray write again. I «ill soon. *P. S. Pray when do you come out? ever, or never? [ hope I have made no blunder ; but I certainly diink you said to me (after Wordsworth, whom I first pondered upon, u up) that * * and I might attempt * * *. ./fin invented me from trying my part, though 1 should have been less severe upon the Re vie wee. "Your seal is the best and prettiest of my set, and I thank you very much therefor. I have just been — or, rather, ought to be — very much shocked by the death of the Duke of 1 lorset. VA •■ were at school together, and there I was passionately attached to him. Since, we have never mel — but once, 1 tliink, since 1S05— and it would be a paltry affectation to pretend that I had any feeling for him worth the-name. But there was a time m mv lift when tins event would have broken my heart ; and all I can Bay for it now is, that — it is not worth breaking. "Adieu — it is all a farce." LETTER CCLXI. TO MB. MOORE. ■March 2, 1815. *HV DEAR THOM, •Jeffrey has sent me the most friendly of all possible let- ters, and has accepted + * y s article. He savs he has Ions liked not only, &c&c. but my* character.' This must be ■ i ■!■■::—, ii 'n't you ;i^!iann'd i.f yourself, know- ing me so well ? This is what one gets for having you for a father couiessor. *itli ili? head of Anacroo, wh'cli Mr Hex t Sot HihiiS ol IdletKSS- s had given hiro fc I feel merry enough to send you a sad song.* You once asked me for some words which you would set. Now you may set or not, as you like, — but there they are, in a legible hand,! and not in mine, but of my own scribblino ; so you may say of them what you please. Why don't vou write to me ? I shall make you 'a speech'j if you don't respond quickly. ' I am in such a state of sameness and stagnation, and so totally occupied in consuming die fruits — and sauntering — and playing dull games al cards — and yawning — and trying to read old Annual Registers and the daily papers — and gathering shells on the shore — and watching the growth of stunted gooseberry bushes in the garden — that I have neither time nor sense to say more than "Yours ever, " B. a P. S. I open my letter again to put a question to you. What would Lady Cork, or any other fashionable Pidcock give, to collect you and Jeffrey and me to one party? J have been answering his letter, which suggested this dainty query. I can't help laughing al the thoughts of your face and mine; and our anxiety to keep the Aristarch in gooc humour during the early part of a compotation, till we got drunk enough to make him ' a speech.' I think the critic would have much the best of us— of one, at least — for I don't Uihik diffidence (I mean social) is a disease of yours." LETTER CCLXIL TO MR. MOORE. "March 8,1 SI 5. "An event — the death of poor Dorset — and the recol- lection of what I once felt, and ought to have felt now, but could not — set me pondering, and finally into the train of thought which you have in your hands. I am very glad you like them, for I Hatter myself they will pass as an imi- tation of your style. If I could imitate it well, I should have no great ambition of originality — I wish 1 could make you exclaim with Dennis, ' That's my thunder, by G — d \* I wrote them with a view to your setting them, and as a prevent to Power, if he would accept the words, and //uu did not think yourself degraded, for once in a way, by marrying them tn music "Sunburn Nathan! why do yon always twit me with his vale Ebrew nasalities? Have I not told you it was all K.'s doing and my own exquisite facility of temper? But thou wilt be a wan, ThorHas: and see what vou £et tor it. Xow tor my revenge. •Depend — and perpend — upon it that your opinion of * *'s Poem will travel through one or other of the quintuple correspondents, till it reaches the ear and die liver of the author.§ Your adventure, however, is truly laughable ; but bow could you be such a potato? You, 'a brother 1 (of tlw quill) too, 'near the throne,' to confide to a man's own pub' Usher (who has 'bought,' or rather sold, 'golden opinions' about lum) such a damnatory parenthesis! 'Between you and me,' quotha, it reminds me of a passage in me Heir at Law — ' Tete-a-trtc with Lady Duberly,I suppose' — ( No— tcte-a-tele with Jire hunrfrtrf people f and your confidential communication will doubtless be in circulation to that amount, in a short time, with several additions, and in several letters, all signed L. H. R. 0. B. &c. &c. &c. * The verses enclosed were UlOM melancholy ones, r.ow printed in hi* works, " Tt»ra '• noi a joy the world cm got like that it Ukei iww.' 1 P B. t&J. t The MS. w,n in the hand writing of Lady Byron. { These atlUhions to "a S|ieccli" nre connected with a little incident, not worth mentioning, Which Imd amused us both when I was in town He was rather food (and had been always so, as may be seen in hi* early letters) of tlma harping on some convent at phrase or joke. — Moor'. § He here al ludes toa circt u < wl ill itetl to him in ■ preceding l titer. In writing to ra i the numerous ptu men of a •rail-Known publishing eaiabliahmi ni , (with wliii h I have lin >■ been lucky .■ii tugh to form a more intimate connexion,) I had mM confidentially, (as I thought,) in reference toa Poem thai had just appeared,—" you and me, I do not much admire Mr, * "s Poem." The letter being chiefly upon business, was answered through the regular business chaone^ Bud, to mv dlsmny, concluded with - la: — H'e are very sorry that you do not approve ui Mr. * "i new Poem, and axe your tiusV-iwui. 4.*. i« 1-. H. K. L'.ui. aC."— Movrt. LETTERS, IMS. 64 •Weleatc this place to-morrow, and shall stop on our way to town (in the interval of taking a house there) at Co Leigh's, near Newmarket, where any epistle of yours will find its welcome way. « I have been very comfirtaMe here, listening to Hal 4- you remember the story ofa certain abbe, who wrote a Treatise on the Swedish Con- stitution, and proved it indissoluble and eternal? Just as he had corrected the last sheet, news came that Gustavus III. had destroyed this immortal government: 'Sir,' quoth the abU'-, ' the kins; of Sweden may overthrow the consti- tution, but not my book'. V I think of the abbe, but not will, him. "Makino every allowance for talent and most consum- mate daring, there is, after all, a good deal in luck i ir destiny. He might have been stopped by out frigates — or wrecked in the gulf of Lyons, which is particularly lempestuoo — i»nre, Pl Klh.i lo l.yi'ii. .ind P»ri» lie goea, Mskiug balU for Hie IsdUs, and ooie* lo kla &>«•■ Vou must have seen the account of his driving into the middle of die royal army, and the immediate affect of his pretty speech* And now, if he don't drub the alius, there is 'no purchase in money.' If he call take France by him- self, the devil's in'l if be don't repulse the uivaders, when backed by those celebrated sworders — those boys of the blade, the Imperial « .irird, and the old and new army. It is impossible not to bo dazzled and overwhelmed by his character and career. Nothing ever so disappointed me as his ahdicauon, and nothing could have reconciled me lo him but some such revival as his recent exploit ; though no one could anticipate such a complete and brilliant reno- vation. "To your question, I can only answer that there have been some symptoms which look a Utile gestatory. It is a subject upon wluch I am not particularly anxious, except that 1 think it would please her le, Lord VVentworth, mid bar father and mother. The former (Lord W.) isnow hi town, and in very indifierenl health. You perhaps know • ThodeaU, oi>»uifui.l goddaughter, Olivia Byroo Mu-»B. that his property, amounting lo seven or eight thousand a year, will eventually devolve upor. Bell. But the okl geo- lleinan has been so very kind to her and me, that 1 hardly know how lo wish him si heaven, if he can be cumin-table on earth. Her father is still in the country. "We mean to metropnbze to-morrow-, and you will ad- dress your next to Piccadilly. We have got the Dutchess of Devon's house there, she being in France. a I don't care what Power says lose, -are the property of the Song, so that it is not complimentary to me, nor any tiling about 'condescending' or •riotle auuW — both 'viln iilirases,' as Polonius says. » * * * * "Pray, let me hear from you, and when yon mean to he in town. Your continental scheme is impracticable for the present. I have to thank you for a longer letter than usual, which I hope will induce you lo tax my gratitude sull far dier in the same way. "You never told me about 'Longman' and 'next w'mlc. and I am not a 'inncslone.' ~* LETTER CCLXIV. TO MK. CIILKRinOE. " Piccadilly, March 31, 1815. " DEAR SIR, It will give me great pleasure to comply with your re- quest, though I hope there is still taste enough left among us lo render it almost unnecessary, sordid and interested as, it must be admitted, mam of'the trade' are, where circumstances give dieniau advantage. 1 trust you, lorn* pennit yourself to be depressed by the temporary partiality of what' is called 'the public' fir the favourites of the mo- ment ; all experience is against the permanency of such impressions. You must have lived to see many of these pass away, and will survive many more — 1 mean peison- allv, tor poetically, I would not insult you by a comparison. "If I may be permitted, 1 would suggest that there never was such an opening for tragedy. In Kean, there is an actor worthy of expressing the thoughts of the characters which you haw every power of iirtboaymg; and I cannot but regret that die part of Otrdonio was disposed of before his appearance at Drury-latic. We have nothing lo be mentioned in the same breath with 'Remorse' for very many years; and I should think thai the reception of that plav was sufficient to encourage the highest hopes of author and audience. It is to be hoped that you arc praci i ding iii a career which could not but be successful. With my best respects to Mr. Bowles, I have the honour lo be, -Your obliged and very obedient servant, "Bvrox." "P. S. You mention my 'Satire,' lampoon, or whatever vou or others please to call it. 1 can only say, that it was written "Inn I was very > ig and very angry, and has been a dlorn ill inv side ever since; more particularly as almost all the persons animadverted upon became subse- luently my acquaintances, and BOme of them my friends, which is 'heaping fketipon an enemy's head,' and forgiving me too readily to permit me to forgive myself. The (.art applied to you is pert, and petulant, and shallow enough; but, although 1 have long d ewaty dung in my power to suppress the circulation of the "hole diing, 1 shall always regret the wantonness or generality of many of its attempt- ed attacks." LETTER CCLXV. TO MR. MURRAY. "April 9, 1815. "Thanks for the books. I have great objection to your accused him of haying enlirvlv forgo! that, in o i-rereding Idler, rill, the Mrnr«. I.oogmaa • I had n I hod informed him of my inic, n U publish " iothc enauin» winter, and ad.k-.l that, n. going him ihn .nforimumn, I found I had hcen.— to uae no elegc.nl Irlili metaphor,— •' wtniluotf Jiga W a. milemoiuj."— JVtowra. LETTERS, 1815. 89 proposition about inscribing the vase,* which is, that it would appear ostentatious on my part ; and of course I must ■send it as it is, without any alteration. " "V ours, &c." LETTER CCLXVI. TO MR. MOORE. "April 23, 1815. ■ Lord Wentworth died last week. The bulk of bis pro- perty (from seven to eight thousand per aim.) is entailed nn Lady Milbanke and Lady Byron. The first is gone to take possession in Leicestershire, and attend the funeral, &c. this day. ***** H I have mentioned the facts of the settlement of Lord WVs property, because the newspapers, with their usual accuracy, have been making all kinds of blunders in their statement. His will is just as expected — the principal part setded on Lady Milbanke (now Noel) and Bell, and a separate estate left for sale to pay debts (which are not great,) and legacies to his natural son and daughter. "Mrs. * **a tragedv was last night damned. They may bring it on again, and probably will ; but damned it was, — not a word of the last act audible. 1 went {malgrt that I ought to have staid at home in sackcloth for unc, but I could not resist ihejrrst night of any thing) to a private and quiet nook of mv private box, and witnessed the whole process. The first three acts, with transient gushes of applause, oozed patiently but heavily on. I must say it was badly acted, particularly by * *, who was groaned upon in the third act, — something about 'horror — such a horror' was the cause. Well, the fourth act became as nuiddv and turbid as need be; but the fifth — what Garnck used to call (like a fool) the concoction of a play — the fifth act stuck fast at the King's prayer. You know he says, 'he never went to bed without saying them, and did not like to omit them now.' But he was no sooner upon his knees, than the audience got upon their legs — the damn- able pit — and roared, and iinmned, and hissed, and whis- tled. Well, that was choked a little ; but the ruffian scene — the penitent peasantry — and killing the Bishop and the Princess — oh, it was all over. The curtain fell upon un- heard actors, and the announcement attempted by Kean |.,r Monday was equally ineffectual. Mrs. Bartley was ■o frightened, that, though the people were tolerably quiet, the Epilogue was quite mandible to half the house. In slmrt, — vou know all. I clapped till my hands were skin- less, and so did Sir James Mackintosh, who was with me in the box. All the world were in the house, from the s, Grevs, &c. &c. downwards. But it would not do It is, after all, not an acting play ; good language, but no power. * * * ** . * Women (saving Joanna Baillie) cannot write tragedy; they have not seen enough nor felt enough of life for it. I think Scmiramis or Catherine II. might have written (could they have been unqueened) a rare play. ful, that I made no mention of the drawings,* &c. when I had the pleasure of seeing you this morning. The fact is, that till this moment I had not seen them, nor heard of their irrival : they were carried up into the library, where I have not been till just now, and no intimation given me of their coming. The present is so very magnificent, that — in short, I leave Lady Byron to thank you f >r it herself, and merely send this to apologize for a piece of apparent and uninten- tional neglect on my own part. "Youis, &.C. 1 LETTER CCLXVIII. TO MR. HUNT. s It is, however, a good warning not to risk or write tra- I never had much bent that way ; but, if I had, this would have cured me. "Ever, carissime Thorn. "Thine, B.' «13 Piccadilly Terrace, May— June 1, 1815. *MV DEAR IU NT, I am as glad to hear from as I shall be to see you. We came to town what is called late in the season ; and since that lime, the death of Lady Byron's uncle (in the first place) and her own delicate state of health, have prevented either of us from going out much ; however, she is now bet- ter, and in a fair way of going creditably through the whole process of beginning a family. "I have the alternate weeks of a private box at Drury- lane Theatre ; this is my week, and I send you an ad- mission to it for Kcan's nights, Friday and Saturday next, in case vou should like to see him quietly : it is close to the stage, the entrance by the private-box door, and you can go without the bore of crowding, jostling, or dressing. I also enclose you a parcel of recent letters from Paris ; perhaps you may find some extracts that may amuse yourself or your readers. I have only to beg you will prevent your copyist, or printer, from mixing up any of the English names, or private matter contained therein, which might lead to a discovery of the writer; and as the Examiner is sure to travel back to Paris, might get him into a scrape, to say nothingof his correspondent at home. At any rate I hope and think the perusal will amuse you. Whenever you come this way, I shall be happy to make you acquainted with Lady Bvron, whom you will find any thing but a fine lady, a species of animal whom you probably do not affect more than myself. Thanks for the 'Mask;' there is not only poetry and thought in the body, but much research and good old reading in your prefatory matter. I hope you have not given up your narrative poem, of which I heard you speak as in progress. — It rejoices me to hear of the well-doing and regeneration of the 'Feast,' setting aside my own selfish reasons for wishing it success. 1 fear you stand almost single in your liking of ' Lara,' it is na- tural that I should, as being my last and most unpopular effervescence: pasting by its other sins, it is too little nar- i ive, and too metaphysical to please the greater number of readers. I have, however, much consolation in the exception with which you furnish me. From Moore I have not heard very lately ; I fear he is a little humorous, be- cause I am a lazy correspondent; but that shall be mended. "Ever your obliged and very sincere friend, ■Byroh "P. S. 'Politics!' The barking of the war-dogs for the«r carrion has sickened me of them for the present." LETTER CCLXVII. TO MR. MURRAT. •May 21, 1815. • Vou must have thought it very odd, not to say ungratt • A large sepukhml vase of silver, presented hy Lord Byron , through Mr. Murray, to Sir Walter Scntt. H was full of deed mtn'a bones. and had inscription* nti two aides of the base. One ran thus — ■ The bona contained in ihis urn were found in certain ancient sepulchres within ihc land walls of Athena in the month of February, tall." The other face bean the lines of Ju»enai : " Eipende — quot li^ra< In dure mmmo inveniet. v — Mors vjU i»i»ui quant ula bo milium cur^uacula." — /up. t. LETTER CCLXIX. TO MR. MOORE. "13, Piccadilly Terrace, June 12, 1815. I have nothing to offer in behalf of my late silence, ex- cept the most inveterate and ineffable laziness ; but I am too supine to invent a lie, or I certainty should, being ashamed of the truth. Kinnaird, 1 hope, has appeased our magnanimous indignation at his blunders. I wished - Mr. Murrey had presented l.»■ all things in the Committee, and so did he. Bul we are now glad you wen wiser; for » is, I doubt, a bitter business. "When shall we see ) n England? Sft Ral) (taeMilbanke— hedoi ■> ! •'■ Noelinahurry) finding thai man cairt inhabil two houses, has given his place in the I, to me tin a habitation; and there Lady B. threatens to be brought to bed in November. Sir R. and in, Lady Mother are to quarter al Kirby— Lord V, entworth's thai was. Perhaps you and Mrs. M will pay us a mil al Seaham in the course of the autumn. It's, , ,u,n ami 1 (»*»' rill take a to* to burgh and embrao ] Efrey. It isnot mueh above one hundred miles from us. But all dus, and other high mat- • Tin Commkue ol Maatfoi ut I)i ury-Uue Tu«air«. • Set CUkl^ H.uuUI, Oulo III— .tai.ui'a. LETTERS, IS15. S7 «rs,wewill discuss at meeting, which [hope will be 01 •-our return. We don't leave town till August. " EvlTj &c." LETTER CCLXXI. TO MR. SOTBTEBV. ■Sept. 15, 1S15. Piccadilly Terrace. "HEIR sin, in 1 * is accepted, and will be put in progress on Kern's arrival. "The theatrical gentlemen have a confident hope of its success. I know not that any alterations for the Stage will be necessary: it' any, they will be trifling, and you shall be di ly apprized. I would suggest that you should not attend .111. except the latter rehearsals — the managers have re- quested me to state this to you. You can see them, viz. Dibdin and Ran, whenever you please, and I wUI do any thing you w ish to be done, on your suggestion, in the mean time. ".Mrs. Mardyn is not yet out, and nothing can be deter- mined till she has made her appearance — I mean as to her capacity lor the part you mention, which I take it for granted is not in Ivan— as I think Ivan may be performed very well without her. But of that hereafter. "Ever yours, very tn.lv, "Byron. "P. S. You will be ./lad to hear that the season has begun uii well — great and constant hotiMs — the oners i.i much harmony with the Committee and one am ither, and as much good-humour as can be preserved in implicated and extensive interests as the Drury-lane propiietary." LETTER CCI.XXUI. TO MR. TAYLOR. " 13, Terrace, Piccadilly, Sept. 25, 1815. "riEAR SIR, "I am sorry you should feel uneasy al what has by no means troubled me.* If your Editor, his correspondents, and readers, are amused, I have no objection to be the theme of all the ballad- ,-.— provided his lucubrations are confined to im: only. •It is a long time since things of this kind have ceased foTnght me from my propri tj ; nor do I know any similar attack which would induce me to turn again, — unless it involved those connected with me, whose qualities, I hope, are such as to exempt them in the eves of those who bear no good-will to myself In such a case, supposing it to occur — to reoerse the saying of Dr. Johnson,— ' what the law could not do for me, I would do for myself; be the consequences what they might. "I return you, with many thanks, Colman and the letters. The Poems, I hope, you jitenued me to-keep; — at least, I shall do so, till I hear the contrary. " Very truly yours." LETTER CCLXXJX TO MR. SOTHEBY. "Sept. 25, 1815. "dear sir, " I think it would be adviseable for you to see the acting ii convenient, as these must be points on you will want to confer; the objection I stated was merely on the part of the performers, and is general and not particular to this instance. I thought it as well to mention it at once — and some of the rehearsals you w ill doubtless see. notwithstanding. ,1 rather think, has his eye on Naritzen fur him- self. He is a more popular performer than Bardev, and certainly the east will be stronger with him in it; he is one of the managers, and will feel doubly in if he can act in both capacities. Z\Irs. Banley will be na; — as to the Empress, I know nut what to sat or think. The truth is, we are not amply furnished with women ; but make the best of those we have, you can take your choice of them. Wc have all gn i 3 — on which, setting aside other con are particularly anxious, as being the first tragedy to be he old Committee. "By-the-way — I have a ch igainsl you. As the great Mr. I 'inns roared out en a similar occasion — 'I'-y G — il. that is my thunder! 1 so dr. I exclaim '27 lightning!' I allude to a speech of Ivan's, in the scene with Peirowu.i and the Empress, where the thought and almost ion are similar toConracfa in the. Sd Canto of the I, however, do not say this to accuse von, but to exempt inyselffn in suspicion, as there is a priority i f sot months' publication, on my part, between the appearance of that composition and of your tragedies. "George Lambe meant to have written to you. If you don't like to confer with the managers at present, I will attend to your wishes — so state them. " Yours very truly, " Byron." • A Tr*eerly, bf Mr. Solhcbv. LETTER CCLXXIV. TO MR. MURRAY'. "Sept. 25, 1815. Will you publish the Drury-I 'Irlagpye T or, what is more, will u L .. fifty, or even forty, pounds for the copy- right of the said ? I have undertaken to ask you this ques- tion on behalf of the translator, and wish you would. >Ve can't get so much for him by ten pounds from any body else, and I, knowing your magnificence, would be glad of all answer. "Ever, &c." LETTER CCLXXV. TO MR. MURRAY. "Sept. 27, 1815. • That 's right, and splendid, and becoming a publisher of high degree. Mr. Concanen (the translator) will be de- lighted, and pay his washerwoman ; and in reward for your bountiful behaviour in this instance, I won't ask you to publish any more for Drury-lane, or any lane whi again. You will have no tragedj or any thing else from me, I assure von, and may ihink yourself lucky in bavin" got rid of me, fur good'and all, without more damage. Bui I 'II tell you what we will do for you,— act Sotheby's Ivan, which will succeed; and then your present and next im- pression of die dramas uf tiiat dramatic gentleman will be expedited to your heart's content : and if there is any thine very good, you shall have the refusal ; but you shan't have any more requi "Sotheby has | almost the words, from the third Canto ol i • h, you know, was pub- lished six months l>< fore Ins tragedy. It is from thi in Conrad's cell. I have- written to Mr. Sotheby to claim it; and, as Dennis roared out of the pit, 'By G — d,//.. thunder:' so do I, and will 1, exclaim, 'By G— d, il; liglitnir.gr diat electrical fluid beuig, in fact, the subject of the said passage. "You will have a print of Fanny Kelly, in the Maid, to prefix, which is honestly worth twice the monev yen have given for the MS. Pray what did you do with the note I gave you about Alungo Park '? "Ever, &c." LETTER CCLXXYI. TO MR. HUNT. "13, Terrace, Piccadilly, Oct. 7. 1815. "MY DEAR HIM', "I had written a long answer to your last, which 1 p..£ An tuiack on Lord enj Loilr Eyron.in the Sun newspaper, otwlilct - Tiuflor was proprietor. m into the fire, partly, because it was a repetition of what I have already said, and next, because I considered what my opinions arc worth, before I made you pay double .as your proximity lays you within the jaws of the tremendous 'Twopenny, 1 and beyond the verge of franking, the only parliamentary privilege, (saying one other,) of much avail in these ' costermonger' days. u Pray don't make me an exception to the 'Long live King Richard 1 of yourbardsinthe' Feast. 1 I do allow him 4 to he ' the prince of the bards of his time, 1 upon the judgment of (hosn who must judge more impartially than I probably Ho. I acknowledge him as I acknowledge the Houses of Hanover and Bourbon, the— not the 'one-eyed monarch of the blind/ — but the blind monarch of the one-eyed, I merely take the liberty of a free subject to vituperate certain, of his edicts, and that only in private. I shall be very glad to see you, or your remaining canto ; if both together, so much the better. — I am interrupted." * * * * LETTERS, 1815. LETTER CCLXXVII. TO MR. HUNT. "Oct. 15,1815. "dear hunt, "I send you a thing whose greatest value is its present rarity;f the present copy contains some manuscript cor- rections previous to an edition which was printed, but not published, and, in short, all that is in the suppressed edition, the fifth] except twenty lines in addition, for which there was not room in the copy before me. There are in it many opinions I have altered, and some which I retain ; upon the whole, I wish that it had never been written, though my sending you this copy (the only one in my possession, unless one of Lady B.'s be excepted) may seem at variance with this statement: but my reason for this is very different ; it is, however, the only gift 1 have made of the kind this many a day. *P. S. You probably know that it is not in print for sale, nor ever will be (if I can help it) again." LETTER CCLXXVIII. TO MR. HUNT. "Oct. 22,1815. K MY DEAR HUNT, "You have excelled yourself, if not all your contempo- raries, in the canto which 1 have just finished. I think it above the former books; hut that is as it should be; it rises with the subject, the conception appeals to me perfect, and the execution perhaps as nearly so as verse will admit. There is more originality than 1 recollect to have seen else- where within the same compass, and frequent and great 1 »s of expression. In short, I must turn to the faults, or what appear to be such to me: these are not many, nor such as may not be easily altered, being almost all wbal; and of the same kind as I pretended to point out in the former cantos, via. occasional quaintness and obscurity, and ■ a kind of harsh and yet colloquial compounding of epithets, j as if to avoid saying common things in the common way ; , difficile est proprie eorntnuiiia dieere,' seems at times to' have met with m you a literal translator. I have made aj few, and hut a few peneil marks on the .MS. whieli you can follow, or not, as you please. "The Poem, as a whole, will give you a very high station; but where is the conclusion '? Do n't let it cool in the com- J position! You can always delay as long as you like re- vising, though 1 am not sure, in the very face of Horace,' that the 'nonum, 1 &c. is attended with advantage, unless, we read 'months' for 'years.' I am glad the book sentf I reached you. I forgot to tell you the story of its suppres- , • Word* worth. ♦ A copj or the Engliih Bardi ami Scotch Rtvlcwera. sion, which shan't be longer than I can make it. Mv mo- live for writing that poem was, I fear, not so fair as you aro willing to believe it; I was angry, and determine^ to be witty, and, fighting in a crowd, dealt about my blows against all alike, without distinction or discernment. When 1 came home from die East, among other new acquaintances and friends, politics and the stale "t the Nottingham rioters, (of which county I am a landholder, and Lord Holland Re- corder of the town,) led me by the good olfices of Mr. Rogers, into the soeiety of Lord Holland, who, with Lady Holland, was particularly kind to me; about March, 1812, this introduction took place, when 1 made mv first speech on the Frame Bill, in the same debate in whieh Lord Hol- land spoke. Soon after this, I was correcting the fifth editi f'K. B.' for the press, when Rogers represented to me thai he knew Lord and Lady Holland would not be sorry if 1 suppressed any farther publication of that Poem ; and J immediately acquiesced, and with great pleasure, for I had attacked them upon a fancied and false provocation, with many others; and neither was, nor am sorry, to have done what I could to Stifle that ferocious rhapsody. Thn was subsequent to my acquaintance with Lord Holland, and was neither expressed nor understood, as a condition of that acquaintance. Rogers told me be thought I ought to suppress it ; I thought so too, and did as far as I could, and that's all. I sent you my copy, because I consider your having it much die same as having it myself. Lady Byron has one; I desire not to have any other, and sent it only as a curiosity and a memento." LETTER CCLXXIX. TO AIR. MOORE. ■13, Terrace, Piccadilly, Oct. 2S, 1815. "You are, it seems, in England again, as 1 am to hear from every body but yourself; and I suppose you punctilious because I did not answer your last Irish l< Iter. When did you leave the 'swats country?' Never u bad, I forgive you; — a strong proof of— I know not what — tc give the lie to— ' Hr nticr pardom who hitlh dofM tlir ITHMfl * "You have written to * *. You have also written to Perry, who intimates hope of an t tpera (rom vmi. Cole- ridge has pTOinised a Tragedy. Now, if vou keep Perry's word, and Coleridge keeps bis own, 1 burv-lane will be set up ; — and, sooth to say, it is in grievous want of such a lift. We began at speed, and are blown already. When I say ( we,' I mean Kinnaird, who is the 'all in all sufficient, 1 and can count, which none of (he rest of the Committee can. " It is really very good fun, as far as the daily and nightly stir of these strutters and fretters go; and, if die concern could be brought to pay a shillil t * in the pound, would do much credit to the management Mr. has an ac- cepted tragedy, * * * * *, whose first seen.- is in his sleep, (I don't mean the author's.) I( was forwarded to us as a prodigious favourite of Keen's; but the said Keen, upon interrogation, denies his eulogy, and protests against \\m part. How it will end, ' know not. "I say so much about the theatre, because there is no- thing else alive in London at this wason. All the world are out of it, except us, who remain to lie in, — in Deceini>er, or perhaps earlier. Lady B. is very ponderous and pros- perous, apparently, and t wish it well over. "There is a play before me from a personage who signs himself 'Hraernicus. 1 The hero is IVlalachi, the Irishman and king; and the villain and usurper, Turgeshsj the Dane. Ths conclusion is fine. Tur ge siua is chained by the leg (mile stage direction) to a pillar on the stage; and King Malaeln makes him a speech, not unlike Lord Caslie- rcagh's about the balance of power and the lawfulness of legitimacy, which puts Turgeshn into a phreosy — as Cos- tlereagh's would, if his audience was chained by the leg. He draws a dagger and rushes at the orator ; but, finding himself at the end of his tether, he sticks it into his own carcass, and dies, saying, he has fulfilled a prophecy. LETTERS, ISIS. S!) * Now, this is serj'w.s, downright matter offset, and the gravest part of a iragcdv which is not intended for bur- lesque* I tell it you for the honour of Ireland. The writer hopes it will be represented: — but what is Hope ? nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of Truth rubs it orf| and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of. I am not sure that I have not said this last super'i^e reflection before. But never tnmd ; i — it will do for the tragedy of Tuigcsms, to which I can append it.. u Well, but how dost thou do? thou bard, not of a thou- sand, but three thousand ! I wish your friend, Sir John Piano-forte, had kept that to himself, and not made it pub- lic at the trial of die song-seller in Dublin. I tell you w hy : it is a liberal thing for Longman to do, and honourable for you to obtain ; but it will set all the 'hungry and dinncrless lank*jawed judges' opoo the fortunate author. But they b>- d— d! — the 'Jeffrey and the Moore together are confi- dent against the world in ink !' By- the- way, if poor Cole- ridge — who is a man of wonderful talent, and in distress, ami about to publish two vols, of Poesy and Biography, and who has been worse used bv the clitics than ever we were — will you, if he comes out, promise* me to review him favourably in the E. R. ? Praise him. I think you must, but you wilt also praise him uWZ, — of all tilings the most difficult. It will be the making of him. " This must be a secret between you and me, as Jeffrey Blight nol like such a project — nor, indeed, might Coleridge himself like it. But I do think he only wants a pioneer, and a sparkle or two to explode most gloriously. "liver yours most all ec donate ly, a B." LETTER CCLXXX. TO MR. HUNT. • 13, Terrace, Piccadilly, Sept.— Oct. 30, 1815. *MY PEAR HUNT, "Many thanks for your books, of which you already know my opinion: their external splendour should not dis- turb you as inappropriate — they have still more within than without. I take leave to di tier from vou on Wordsworth, as freely as I once agreed with vou; at that lime 1 gave him credit f-r a promise, which is unfulfilled. I still thmk lacity warrants all yon say of it only, but that his performances since 'Lyrical Ballads* are miserably inade- quate to the ability which lurks within him: there is un- doubtedly much natural talent spilt over the 'Excursion,' but it is ram upon rocks, where it stands and stagnates, or rain upon sands, where it fulls without fertilizing. Who can understand him? Let those who do, make him intel- Jacob Behmi-u, Swcdenborg, and Joanna South- cOto, are mere types of ibis arch-apostle of mystery and ism. But 1 have dnne, — no, I have not done, for I have two petty, and perhaps unworthy objections in small matters to make lo him, which, with his pretensions to accurate observations, and fury against Pope's false trans- of'the moonlight scene in Homer, 1 I wonder he should have fallen into: these be they: — He says of Greece in the body of his book, that it is a laud of * Rivers, fertile plnins, awl sounding shores, Dndei i cope ui variegated »ky.' The rivers are dry half the year, the plains are barren, and the shores still and tidtlcss as the Mediterranean can make them; the sky is any thing but variegated, being for months and months but 'darkly, deeply, beautifully blue.' — The uuxl is in bia notes, where he talks of our 'Monuments crowded together in the busy, &c. of a large town,' as com- pared with the 'still seclusion of a Turkish cemetery it. some remote place.' This is pure stuff; for one monument in oar churchyards there are ten in the Turkish, and so crowded that you cannot walk between them; that is, divided merclvby a path or road; and as to 'remote places,' men never take the trouble, m a barbarous country, to 12 carry their dead very far; they must have lived near to where they were buried. There are no cemeteries in 'remote places,' except such as have the cypress and the tombstone still left, where the olive and the habitation uf the living have perished. . . . These tilings I was struck with, as coming peculiarly in my own way ; and in both of these he is wrong: yet I should have noticed neither, but tor his attack on Pope for a like blunder, and a peevish affectation about him of despising a popularity which he will never obtain* I write in great haste, and, I doubt, not much to the purpose, but you have it hot and hot, just as it comes, and so Jet it go. By-ihe-wav, both he and you go too far against Pope's 'So when the moon,' &c. ; it is no translation, I know ; but it is not such false description as asserted. I have read it on die spot ; there is a hurst, and a lightness, and a glow about the night in the Troad, which makes the 'planets vivid,' and the 'pole glaring.' The moon is, at least the sky is. clearness itself; and I know no more appropriate expression fbr the expansion of such a heaven — o'er the scene — the plain — die se"a — the sky — Ida — the Hellespont — Silnois — Scanaander — and the Isles — than hat of a ' llnud of glory.' I am getting horribly lengthy, and must stop: lo die whole of your letter I say 'ditto to Mr. Burki ,' as the Bristol candidate cried by way of electioneering harangue. You need not speak of morbid feelings and vexations to me ; I have plenty ; hut I must blame partly the limes, and chiefly myself: but let us forget them, /shall be very apt to do so when I see you next. Will you come to the theatre and see our new manage- ment .' You shall cut it up to your heart's content, root and branch, afterwards, if vou like, but come and see it! If not, I must come and see you. "Ever yours, " Very truly and affectionately, " Byrox. u P. S. Not a word from Moore for these two montlis. Pray let me have die rest of Rimini. You have two ex- cellent points in that Poetn, originality and Italianism. 1 will back you as a Bard against half the fellows on whom you have thrown away much good criticism and eulogy; but do n't let your bookseller publish in quarto, it is the worst size possible for circulation. I say tliis on biblio- poticnl authority. "Again, yours ever, "B." LETTER CCLXXXI. TO MR. MOORE. u Terrace, Piccadilly, Oct. 31, 1815. " I have not been able to ascertain precisely the time of duration of the stock market; but I believe it is a good time for selling out, and 1 hope so. First, because I shall see vou ; and, next, because I shall receive certain moneys on behalf of Lady B. the which will materially conduce to my comfort, — I wanting (as the duns say) 'to make up a sum. "Yesterday, 1 dined out with a largeish party, where were Sheridan and Colinan, Harry Harris of C. G. and his lirother 9 Sir Gilbert Hea'hcote, Ds. Kinnaird, and others of note and notoriety. Like other parties of the kind, it was first silent, thentalky, then argumentative, then dis* putaiiouF, then unintelligible, then altogether}', then inar- ticulate, and then drunk. When we had reached the last step of this glorious ladder, it was difficult to get down again without stumbling; — and, to crown all, Kinnaird and I had to conduct Sheridan down a d- — d corkscrew staircase. which had certainly been constructed before the db pRferinenied Liquors, and to which no legs, however crooked could possibly accotnmodafe themselves. We deposited him safe at home, where his man, evidently used to the business, waited lo receive him in the hall. " B'itli he and Colmon were, as usual, very good ; but ] carried away much wine, and the wine had previotmlj carried away my memory ; so that all was hiccup anc happiness for the last hour or so, and I am not impregnate* wiili any of the conversation. Perhaps you heard of a lam 90 LETTERS, 1815. answer of Sheridan to the watchman who found him bereft of that ' divine particle of air,' called reason, — * * *****. He, the watchman, found Sherry in the street, fuddled and bewildered, and almost Insensible. 'Who are you, sir? 1 — no answer. ' What's your name?' — a hiccup. ' What 's your name V — Answer, in a slow, deliberate, and impassive tone, — l Wilber- force!!! 1 Is not that Sherry all over? — and to my mind excellent. Poor fellow, hit very dregs are better than the 'first sprightly runnings' of others. '• My paper is full, and I have a grievous headach. K P. S. Lady B, is it* full progress. Next month will bring to light (with the aid of ' Juno Lucina, fer opemf or rather opes, for the last are most wanted) the tenth wonder of the world ; Gil Bias being the eighth, and ho (my son's father) the ninth. 8 LETTER CCLXXXIL TO MR. MOORE. "Nov. 4, 1815. 8 Had you not bewildered my head with the 'stocks,' your letter would have been answered directly. Had n't I to go to the city? and had n't I to remember what to ask when I got there? and had n't I forgotten it? a I should be undoubtedly delighted to see you; but I don't like to urge against your reasons my own inclinations. Come you must soon, for stay you won't. I know you of old ; — you have been too much leavened with London to keep long out of it "Lewis is going to Jamaica to suck his su^ar-eanes. He sails in two days ; I enclose you his farewell note. I saw him last night at D. L. T. for the last time previous to his voyage. Poor fellow ! he is really a good man ; an excellent man ; he left me his walking-stick and a pot of preserved ginger. 1 shall novel ear the last without tears n my eyes, it is so hot. We have had a devil of a row among our ball arinas: Miss Smith has been wronged about a hornpipe. The Committee have interfered ; but Byrne, the d — d ballet-master, won't budge a step, /am furious, so is George Lambe. Kinnainl is very glad, because — he do n't know why ; and 1 am very sorry, for the same reason. To-day I dine with Kd. — we are to have Sheridan and Colman again ; and to-morrow, once more, at Sir Gilbert Heallicote's. ****** •Leigh Hunt has written a real good and very original Poem, which I think will be a great hit. You can have no notion how very well it is written, nor should I, had I not redde it. As to us, Tom — eli, when art thou out? If you think the verses worth it, I would rather they were em- balmed in the Irish Melodies, than scattered abroad in a separate song; much rather. But when are thy great things out? I mean the Po of Pos ; thy Shah Nameh. It is very kind in Jeffrey to like the Hebrew Melodies. Some of the fellows here preferred Sternhold and Hopkins, and said so; — 'the fiend receive their souls therefor!' *J must go and dress for dinner. Poor, dear Murat, wha'. an end! You know, I suppose, that his white plume used to be a rallying point in battle,* like Henry the Fourth's. He refused a confessor and a bandage; so would neither suffer his sou! or body to be bandaged. You shall have more to-morrow or next day. "Ever. &tc." LETTER CCLXXXm. TO MR. MURRAY. 8 Nov.4, 1815. •When you have been enabled to form an opinion on Mr. Coleridge's MS. you will oblige me by returning it, as, in fact, I hare no authority to let it out of my hands. I • See Foemt, p. 196. think most highly of if, and fuel anxious hat you should bo the publisher; but if you are nol, I do uot despair of finding those who will. "I have written to Mr. Leigh Hunt, stating your willing- ness to treat w ith turn, which, when I saw you, I understood you to be. Terms and tune I leave to his pleasure and your discernment; but :1ns I will say, mall think it the suftst thm^ yuu ever engaged in. I speak to you u a man of business: were I to talk to you as a reader or a l 1 i\, il was a very wonderful and beautiful | I ance, with just enough of fault to make its beauties more remarked and remarkable. "And now to the last ; my own, which I feel ashamed of after the Others: — publish or not as you like, 1 don't care one damn. If you do n't, no one else shall, and I never thought or dreamed of it, except as one in the collection. If it is worth being in ttie fourth volume, put it there and nowhere else ; and if nut, put it in the fire. "Yours, LETTER CCLXXXIY. TO MR. MURRAY. "Nov. 14, 1815. R I return you your bills not accepted, but certamlv not unhonnurcd. Your present r.tfW is a favour winch I would accept from you, if I accepted such from any man. Had such been my intention, I can assure you I would have asked you fairly, and as freely as you would give ; and I cannot say more of my confidence or your conduct . "The circumstances which induce me to pari with my books,* though sufficiently, are no) mm$£ahfy t pressing. I have made up my mind to them, and there 's an end. "Had 1 been disposed to trespass on your kindness in tins way, it would have been before now; but I am not sorry to have an opportunity of declining it, as it sets my opinion of you, and indeed of human nature, in a different light from that in which I have been accustomed to con- sider it. ■ Believe me very truly, fce," LETTER CCLXXXV. TO MR. MURRAY. "Dec. 25, 1815. °I send some tines, written some fines ago, and intended as an opening to the 'Siege of Corinth.* I had forgotten them, and am not sure that they had not better be left out now : on that, you and yoUl Synod can determine. f • Yours, &c." FRAGMENTS OF LETTKRS WRITTEN ABOUT THIS TIME TO MR. HUNT. "With regard to the Enghsh Bards and Scotch Re- viewers, 1 have no concealments, nor desire to have any, from you or yours ; the suppression occurred (I am assure as] can be of any thing) in the manner stated: I have □ever regretted that, but very often me composition, that is, the humenr of a great deal in it. As to the quotation you allude to, I have DO tight, nor indeed desire, to prevent il ; but, on the contrary, in common with all other writers, I do and ought to take it as a compliment. "The paper on the Methodists I redde, and agree with the writer on one point, in which you and he perhaps differ; * In convenience of hi* pecuniary rmharraument* at this time, be Knd expreued an intention of parting with hi» book*. On hearing thia, Mr. Muritiv imuiillv forwnr.ieil him UQOI.wllfa an assurance that soother ! ! It nt his ferriee in u few met let, and that Ifauch uiiatancc ibould not be niflb Ecut, Mr. Motnywii mot* nsuJy to liapou of the copyrights of all hn ] me, which T am sorry for, as I should otherwise have begged you Co review it in the Edinburgh, ji is reaBy deserving of much praise, and a favourable critique in the E. K. would but do it justice, and Baft it up. before the public eye where it ought to be. " How are vou? and where? i have not the most distant alea what I am going to do myself or with myself— or where — or what. I had, a few weeks ago, some things to say, that would have made you laugh; but they teU me no\\ that 1 must not laugh, and bo 1 have been very serious —and am. '•I have ii"t been verv well— with a /it>cr complaint— but am much better within the last fortnight, though still under latncnl advice. 1 have latterly seen a hale of * * "I must go and dress to dine. My little girl is in the country, and, they tell me, fc a verv fine child, and BOW nearly three months old. Lady Noel (my mother-in-law, or rather, at law) is at present overlooking u. HerdaugblM (Miss Milbanke that was) is, l believe, in London with her father. A Mrs. Chartmont,* (now a kind of house- keeper and spy of Lady NOs) whoj in her belter days, was a washerwoman, is supposed I© be — by the learned — very much the occult i ause of our late domestic discrepancies. "In all this business, I am the su/riest for Sir Ralph. He and 1 are equally punished, though rnagu paretouem thiites ifl our affliction. Vet it is hard kir both to Buffi for the fault of one, and so it is — I shall be separated from lay wife ; he will retain his. u Liver, &.c." in the mean time I shall merely request a suspen opinion. Your prefatory letter to ' Kimim' 1 accej it was meant, as a public complimenl and a private kind- ness. I am only sorry that it may perhaps operate against you as an inducement, and, with some, a pretext for attack on the part of the political and personal enemies of both ; not that this can be of much consequence, for in the end the work must be judged by its merit-, and, in that respect^ vou are well armed. Murray tells me it is going on well, and, ve* any depend upon it, there is a substratum of poetry, which » a foundation for solid and durable fame. eclions (if there be objections, f.r tins is a pre- sumption, and not an assumption) "ill be merely as to die mechanical part, and such, as 1 stated before, the usual consequences of&i her novelty or revival. 1 desired Mur- ray to forward to you a pamphlet with two things of mine in n, the most part of both of them, and of one in particular, wntterkbefure often of my a m| i ring, which have pi them in puhUeaAm; they are neither of theni of much n, nor intended for n. Vou will perhaps wondej at my dwelling so much and so frequently on former sub- ' scenes ; but the fa--t is, that 1 found them fading fast from my memory; and 1 was, at the same time, so partial to their place, (and -v. nts connected with it,) that I have stamped them while 1 could, in such colours a* I could trust to now, but might have confused and misapplied hereafter, had \ longer delayed the alUmpud deinn MtiooJ LETTER CCXC TO MH. IIUMT. "Feb. 26, 1816. "dear hunt, "Your letter would have been answered before, had I not thought ii probable dial, as you were in town for a day nr so, I should have seen vou; — 1 don't moan this as a hint at reproach for not calling but merely that of course I should have been very glad if you had called in your way home or abroad, as 1 alwavs would have been, and always phall be. Wiih regard to the circumstances to which you allude, there is no reason why you Bhoukl not speak openly tome on a subject already sufficiently rife in the mouths anil minds of what is called 'the world.' Of the 'fifty re- ports,' it follows that forty-nine must have more or less error and exaggeration; but 1 am sorrv to say, that on the main and essential point of an intended] and, it may be, an inevitable separation, I can contradict none. At present 1 shall say no more, but this is not from want of confidence ; * Urj. Uuu-uiwui. s« fteiata p. ISS LETTER CCXCI. TO MR. MOOKE. "March 5, ISIS. "I nj-iice in your promotion as Chairman and I Lin- table Steward, &c. &c. These be dignities which await nly the virtuous. But then, recollect, you are s?.r~and<- //ir-Vy, (I speak this enviously— not of your age, but the honour — love — obedience — troops of friends, 1 which ac- company it,) and I have eight years good to run I. arrive at such hoary pt-rferiioii; by whi. h lime, — if 1 am at all, — it will probably be in a slate of grace or pro. merits. "I must set you right in one point, however. The faint was not — no, nor even the misfortune^ — in my 'choice' (unless in choosing "t id I) — G» 1 do not believe, and 1 must say "it, in the very dregs of all this bitter business, that there aver was a better, or even a brighter, a kinder^ or a mete amiable and agreeable being than 1 .adj B. I Dover bad, nor can have, any reproach to make her, while with me. Where there is blame, ii belongs to myself; and, if J cannot redeem, I must bear it. " Hit Dearest relatives area * * * * — my circumstances have been and are in a state of greal confusion — my health has been a good deal disordered, and my mind ill at ease for a considerable period, Such are the causes (I do not Bante then as excuse*) whjah Nave frequently driven n»e bto excess, and disqualified my temper l">r comfort. Some* tiling also may be attributed to the s: range and desultory habits wlujcb, becoming nt) own master at an early age, and scrambling about, over and through the world) may have induced. I still, however, think that, if 1 had had a fair chance, by being placed in even a tolerable situation, I ruighl have gone "it fairly. But that seems hopeless, and mere is nothing more to be sai I, At present — except my bed Mi, which i> better (it is odd, but agitation or contest of any kind gives a rebound to my spirits and sets me up f>>r the time)—] have to battle with all hinds of unpleasant* nessos, mcluding private and pecuniary difficulties, &C.&C, "I believe I may have said this before to you, — but I risk repeating it. It is nothing tO bear the privations of adversity, or, more properly, ill fortune; but my pride recoils from its iwlignities. However, I have no quarrel with that same pride, which will, I think, buckler me thtotigh every thing. If my heart could have been broken, it wouid have been so years ago, and by events more aillicling than these LETTERS, 18IC. 93 ■I agree with you (to turn from this topic to our shop) lhat 1 have written too much. The last things were, how- ever, published -'-rv reluctantly by ine, and for reasons I will explain when we meet. I know noi why 1 have dwell b on tiif same scenes, except 'bat * h nu " them fading, or cvnfu.tu i g (if such a word may he) in my memory, in the midst of present turbulence and pressure, and I fell anxious to stamp before the die was worn out. I now break it. Wi:li countries] and events connected with them, all my really poetical feelings begin anil end. Were I to try, I could make nothing of any other subject, and thai I have apparently exhausted. l Wo to him,* says Voltaire, 'who says all he could say on any subject.' There are some on which, perhaps, I could have said still more: but 1 leave them all, and not too soon. "Do you remember the lines t sent you ear Iv last vear. which you still have ? I do n't wish (like Mr. Fitzgerald, in the Morning Post) to claim the character of 'Vales' in all its translations; but were they not a litUe prophetic? T mean those hegmning 'There's not a joy the world can,'* £<.- Slcou which I rather pique mvself as being the truest, luMigh the most melancholy, I ever wrote. * What a scrawl have I sent vou! You sav nothing of ycurseUj except that you are a Lancasterian churchwarden, and au encourage* of mendicants. When are you out? ami bow is your family ? My child is very well and floii. ishing, I bear ; but I must see also. I feel no disposi- ng) to resign it to the contagion of its grandmother's society, though I am unwilling to take it from the mother. It is weaned, however, and something about it must be decided. "Ever, &.c." [The letter that follows was in answer to one received fr-.m Mr. Murray, in which he had enclosed him a draft for a thousand guineas for the copyright of bis two Poems, the feiege of Corinth and Parisina.] LETTER CCXCIl. TO MR. MURRAY. •Jan. 2, 1816. •Your offer is liberal in the extreme, (you see I use the word to you and of you, though I would not consent to your using it of yourself to Mr. * * * *,) and much more than the two poems can possibly be worth; but I cannot accept it, nor will uot. You are most welcome to them as addi- tions to the collected volumes, widiout any demand or expectation on my part whatever. But I cannot consent to their separate publication. I do nut like to risk any funi'- [whether merited or not) which I have been favoured witli, upon ^impositions which I do not feel to be at all equal to my own notions of what they should be, (and as I Batter mvself some have been, here and there,) though they may do very well as things without pretension, to add to the publication with the lighter pieces. "I am very glad that the handwriting was a favourable onnn of the morale of the piece: but you must not trust to that, for my copyist would write out any thing I desired in all the ignorance of innocence— I hope, however, in thL> iu > nice, viih no great peril to either. " P. S. 1 have enclosed your draft tarn, for fear of acci- dents by the way — I wish you would not throw temptation in mine. It is not from a disdain of the universal idol, not from a present superfluity of his treasures, I can assure you, that I refuse to worship him; but what is right is right, and must not yield to circumstances." LETTER CCXCIU. TO MR. ROGERS. "Feb. 20, 1816. •I wrote to you hastily this morning by Murray, to say lhat I was glad to do as Mackintosh and you suggested al> »ut Mr. * *. It occurs lo me now, thai as I have net i seen Mr. * * but once, and consequently have no claim to his acquaintance, dial you or Sir J. had better arrange it wiili lulu hi such u manner as may be least offensive to his feelings, and so as no! to have the appearance ofofficious- ness nor obtrusion on my part. I hope vou will be able to do this, as I should be very sorry lo do am* thing by him that may be deemed indelicate. The sum Murray offered and offers was and is one thousand and fifty pounds: this I refused before, because I thought it more than the two things were worth to Murray, and from other objections, which are of no consequence. I have, however, closed with M. in consequence of Sir J.'s and your suggestion, and propose the sum of six hundred pounds to be trans- ferred to Mr. * * in such manner as niav seem best to your friend,— the remainder I think of for other purposes. w As Murray has offered the money down for the copy- rights, ii may be done directly. I am ready to sign and seal immediately, and perhaps it had better not be delayed. 1 shall feel very glad if it can be of any u^e to * * ; only don't let him be plagued, nor think himself obbged and all that, winch makes people hate one another, &c. " Yours, very truly, * B * LETTER CCXCIV. TO MR. MURRAY. K Feb.22,1816. "When the sum offered by you. and even pressed by you, was declined, it was with re r eience to a separate publication, as you know and I know. That it was large, I admitted and admit; and that made part of mv conside- ration in refusing it, till I knew belter what you were likely to make of it. AYiuS regard to what is past, or is to pass, ab. 'ut Mr. * *, the case is in no respeel different from the transfer of former copyrights to Mr. Dallas. Had I taken you at your word, that is, taken your money, I might have used it as I pleased ; and it could be in no respect different to you whether I paid it to a w — , or a hospital, or assisted a i.. in of talent in distress. The truth of the matter seems this: you offered more than the poems are worth, I said so, and I think so; but you know, or at least ought to know, your own business best ; and when you recollect what passed between you and me upon pecuniary subjects before this occurred, you w ill acquit me of any wish lo take advantage of your imprudence. "The things in question shall not be published at all, jnj there is an end ufthe matter. a Yours, &c." LETTER CCXCV. TO MR. JIIRRAV. "March 6, 1816. * 6m i .■■-■'•'* , \- iyi, " I Bent to you to-day for this reason — the books you purchased are again seized, and, as matters stand, had much better be sold at once by public auctiou. I wish to see you, to return your bill for them; wliich, thank God, is neither due nor paid. Thai part, as far as you are con- cerned, being settled, (which it can he, and shall be, when I see you to-morrow,) I have 00 further delicacy about die matter. Tins is about the tenth execution in as many mouths; so I am pretty well hardened ; but it is tit I should pay the forfeit of my forefather's extravagance and my own; and whatever mv faults may be, 1 suppose they will be pretty well expiated in lime — or eternity. a Ever,&c. "P. S. I need hardly say that I knew nothing till this day of the new seizure. I had released them from former ones, and thought, when you took them, that they were yours. 1 * You shall have your bill again to-morrow, 8 94 LETTERS, 1610. LETTER CCXCVI. TO MR. MURRAY. "Feb. 3, 1816. * I sent for ' Marmion,' which I return, because it occurred to mr. then- might be a resemblance between part of 'Pa- n-ipj.' and a similar scene in Canto '2 oftManmon. 1 I fear there is, though 1 never thought of it before, ami could hardly wish to imitate that which is inimitable. I wish you would ask .Mr. Gilford whether I ought to say ai.y Uini^ upon n ; — I had completed the story on the passage fn-m Gibbon, which indeed leads to a like scene naturally, without a thought of the kind: but it conies upon me not very com- fortably. "There are a few words and phrases I want to alter in the MS. and should like to do it before you print, and will return it in an hour. " Yours ever." LETTER CCXCVH. TO MK. MUKHAV. ■Feb. £0,1816. * To return to our business — your epistles are vastly agreeable. With regard to the observations on careless- ness, &c. I think, with all humility, that the gentle reader has considered a rather uncommon, and designedly irregu- lar, versification fur haste ami negligence. The measure is not that uf any of the other poems, which (I believe) were allowed to be tolerably cor reel, according to Bvsslie and the fingers — or ears — by which bards write, and readers reckon. Great part of the 'Siege 5 is in (1 ihink) what the learned railed Anapests, (though 1 am not sure, being heinously forgetful ot my metres and my ' Grudus',) and many of the lines intentionally longer or shorter than its rhyming companion; and rhyme also occurring at greater or less intervals of caprice or convenience. u I mean not to say that tin-, is right or good, hut merely Jiat I could have been smoother, had it appeared to me of advantage; and that I was not otherwise without being aware of the deviation, though I now feel sorry for it, as I would undoubtedly rather please than not. My wish has been to try at something different from my former efforts; as I endeavoured to make them differ from each other. The versification of the 'Corsair' is not that of 'Lara;' nor the '< riaour 1 that of the 'Bride:' 'Childe Harold' is again varied from these; and I strove to vary the last somewhat from aU of the others. " Excuse all this d — d nonsense and egotism. The fact is, that I am rather- trying to think on the subject of this note, than really thinking on it. — I did not know you had called: you are always admitted and welcome when you choose. " Yours, &c. &c. "P. S. You need not he in any apprehension or grief on my account: were I to be beaten down by the world and its inheritors, I should have succumbed to many tlnn L - ycars ago. You must not mistake my not bullying for den ill. .ti ; nor imagine thai because I feel, I ain to faint: — but enough for the present. U I am sorry for Sotheby's row. What the devil is it about? I thought it all settled ; and if I can do any thing about him or Ivan still, I am ready and willing. I do not iliink it proper for me just now to be i h behind the scenes, but I will see the committee and move upon it, if Solheby likes. u If you see Mr. Sotheby, will you tell him that I wrote to Mr. I loleridge, on getting Mr. Sotheby's note, and have, I hope, done what Mr. S. wished on that subject?" LETTER CCXCVIII. TO UK. ROGERS. "March 25, 1816. ■You are one of the few persons with whom I have lived in what is called intimacy, and have heard me at Umos conversing on the untoward topic of my recent fanniy disquietudes. Will you have the goodness to say to me at once, whether you ever heard me speak of her with dis- respect, with unkindiiess or defending myself at fur expense by any serious impotalion of any description agiunst hwt Did you never hear me say, 'that when there was a right or a wroug, she had the rigid/ 1 — The reason 1 put than questions to you or others of my friends is because I arn said, by her and hers, to have resorted to bui b means of exculpation. "Ever very truly your*, b B. B LETTER CCXCIX. TO MR. MURRAY. "Ouchy, near Lausanne, June 27, 1816. a I am thus far (kepi by stress of weather) on nrj way back to 1 tiodali, (near Geneva,) from a voyage in my boat round the lake; and I enclose you a sprig of Gfooon's acacia and some rose leaves from liis garden, which, with part of his house, 1 have just seen. You will find honour- able mention, in his Life, made of this 'acacia,' when he walked out on the night of concluding his history. The garden and su.-nmtr house, where lie composed, arc ne- glected, and the last Utterly decayed; but they still show it as his 'cabinet, 1 and seem perfectly aware of his memory. "Mj route, through Flanders, and by the Rhine, to Swit- zerland, was all 1 expected and more. "1 have traversed all Rousseau's ground, with the Heloiso before me, and am struck to a degree that I cannot express will i the force and accuracy uf his descriptions, and the beauty oftheir reality. Meillerie^Clarena, and Vevay,and the Chateau de Chillon, are places of which 1 shall say little, because all I could say must fall short of the impres- sions they stamp.* "Three days ago, we were nearly wrecked in a squall otf Meillerie, and driven to shore. 1 ran no risk, being so near the rocks, and a good swimmer; but our party were wet, and incommoded a good deal. The wind was strong enough to blow down some trees, u we li>und at landing ; however, all is righted and right, and we are thus far on our return. "Dr. Polidori is not here, but at Diodati, left behind in the hospital with a sprained ankle, which he acquired in tumbling from a wall — he can't jump. "I shall be glad to hear you arc well, and have received for me certain helms and swords, sent from Waterloo, which I rode over with pain and pleasure. "I have finished a thud Canto lr. ! 'olidori, and which appears to be about the most impudent imposition thai ever i sued from Grub- street 1 need hardly say that I know nothing of all this * Sec noU-iloSd Canto of Chilili' HnruM, t The follow me win the tdVHtlttmtBt etido»»d : " Neatly nrtnmn' 111(1 tint pmwirl.Ts' Bit " Lord fly nm '■ Farawtltto England, with three other i nu — Ode to Si. Ilcltim, i" \lv Daughter <■* bsr Birthday, end to the l.ilv ..(" France. " Prune! I.v J. Johnston, (/henusidc. 335 ; Oafonl, 9 Tin ftbOYC •.,,■;■ P ■ ■. i ■ [j ii, [creel, as ttle probable thsywlllni thslnetol u* author's that will afi'cur 'a £u£laod."— rTbe> were wmiui by s Mr, Jolm aggj LETTERS, 1816. 05 trash, nor whence it may spring, — 'Odes to St. Helena,' ' Farewells to England,' &c. &c. — and if it can be dis- avowed, or is worth disavowing, you have full authority to iio so. X never wrote, nor conceived, a line on any thintf of the kind, any more than of two other things with which I ma saddled — something about 'Gaul,' and another about '.Mrs. La Valeric' and as to the 'Lily of France, 1 I should a won think of celebrating a turnip. 'On the morning of my daughter's birth,' I had other tilings to think of than verses; and should never have dreamed of such an inven- tion, till Mr. Jolinston and his pamphlet's advertisement broke in upon me with a new light on the crafts and subtle- ties of the demon of printing, — or rather publishing. " I did hope that some succeeding lie would have super- seded the thousand and one which were accumulated during last winter. I can forgive whatever may be said of or against me, but not what they make me say or sing for myself. Jt is enough to answer for what I have written; but it were too much fir Job himself to bear what one has not. I suspect that when the Arab patriarch wished that his 'enemy had written a book,' he did not anticipate his own name on the title-page. I feel quite as much bored with this foolery as it deserves, and more than I should be if I had not a headach. *Of Glenarvon,* Madame de Stael told me (ten days ago, at Copet) marvellous and grievous tilings; but I have seen nothing of it but the motto, which promises amiably 'for us and for our tragedy.' If such be the posy, what should the rinu lie . ? — 'a name toallsucceeding,'! &c. The generous moment selected for die publication is probably its kindest accompaniment, and — truth to say — the time was well chosen. I have not even a guess at the contents, except from the very vague accounts I have heard. K I ought to be ashamed of the egotism of this letter. It is not my fault altogether, and I shall be but too happy to drop the subject, when others will allow me. "I am in tolerable plight, and in my last letter told you what I had done in the way of all rhyme. I trust that you prosper, and that your authors are in good condition. I should suppose your stud has received some increase by what I hear. BertramJ must be a good horse ; does he run next meeting? I hope you will beat the Row. "Yours alway, &c." LETTER CCCI. TO MR. ROGERS. "Diodati, near Geneva, July 29, 1S16. B Do you recollect a book, Mathieson's Letters, which you lent me, which I have still, and yet hope to return to your library? Well, I have encountered at Copet and elsewhere Grays correspondent, that same Bonstetten, to whom I lent die translation of his correspondents epistles for a few days; but all he could remember of Gray amounts to little, except that he was the most 'melancholy and gentlemanlike' of all possible poets. Bonstetten himself is a fine and very lively old man, and much esteemed by his compatriots; he is also a lUUrateuT of good repute, and all his friends have a mania of addressing to him volumes of letters — Mauueson, Mufler the historian, &c. &c. He is a good deal at Copet, where I have met him a few times. All there are well, except Rocca, who, I am sorry to say, looks in a very bad state of health. Schlegel is in high for*-' 1 , and Madame as brilliant as ever. 8 1 came here by the Netherlands and the Rhine route, and Basle, Berne, Morat, and Lausanne. I have circum- • A Novel, by Lady Caroline Lamb : Lord Byron, under another name ire* one of it* principal characters. 1 The motto is- " He left a name '" til •nfrpedinj: times, Link 'd with one virtue and a thousand crime*." bbtnrio'a Tragedy navigated the Lake, and go to Chamouni with the first fair weather; but really we have had lately such stupid mists, fog?, and perpetual density, that one would think Castle- reagh had the Foreign Affairs of the kingdom of Heaven also on his hands. I need say nothing to you of these parts, you having traversed them already. I do not think of Italy before September.. I have read Glenarvon, and have also seen Ben. Constant's Adolphe, and his preface, denying the real people. It is a work which leaves an unpleasant impression, but very consistent with the conse- quences of not being in love, which is perhaps as disagree- able as any thing, except being so. 1 doubt, however, whether all such liens (as he calls them) terminate so wretchedly as his hero and heroine's. " There is a third Canto (a longer than either of the former) of Childe Harold finished, and some smaller things, — among them a story on the Chateau de Chillon; I only wait a good opportunity to transmit them to the grand Murray, who, I hope, flourishes. Where is Moore ? Why is he not out? My love to him, and my perfect conside- ration and remembrances to all, particularly to Lord and Lady Holland, and to your Dutchess of Somerset. "Ever, &c. "P. S. I send you a.fac simile, a note of Bonstetten's, dunking you might like to see the hand uf Gray's corre spondent." LETTER CCCII. TO MR. MURRAY, "Diodati, Sept. 29, 1816. I am very much flattered by Mr. Ginord's good opinion of the MSS.* and shall be still more so, if it answers youi expectations and justifies his kindness. I liked it myself, but that must go for nothing. The feelings with which most of it was written need not be envied me. With regard to the price, / fixed none, but left it to Mr. Kinnaird, Mr. Shelley, and yourself, to arrange. Of course, they would do their best ; and as to yourself, I knew you would make no difficulties. But I agree with Mr. Kinnaird perfectly, that the concluding Jive hundred should be only conditional; and for my own sake, I wish it to be added, only in case of your selling a certain number, that number to be fixed by yourself. I hope this is fair. In every thing of this kind there must be nsk; and till that be past, in one way or the other, I would not .willingly add to it, particularly in times like the present. And pray always recollect that nothing could mortify me more — no failure on my own part — than having made you lose by any purchase from me. "The Monody t was written by request of Mr. Kinnaird for the theatre. I did as well as I could ; but where I have not my choice, 1 pretend to answer for nothing. Mr. Hobhouse and myself are just returned from a journev of lakes and mountains. We have been to the Grindelwald, and the Jungfrau, and stood on the summit of the Wengen Alp ; and seen torrents of nine hundred feet in fall, and laciersofall dimensions; we have heard shepherd's pipes, and avalanches, and looked on the clouds foaming up from the valleys below us, like the spray of the ocean of hell.J Chamouni, and that which it inherits, we saw a month ago; but, though Mont Blanc is higher, it is not equal in wildness to the Jungfrau, the Eighers, the Shreckhorn, and die Rose Glaciers. We set off* for Italy next week. The road is within this month infested with bandits, but we must take our chance and such precautions as are requisite. "Ever, &c. °P. S. My best remembrances to Mr. Gifford. Pray say all that can be said from me to him. "I am sorry that Mr. Matunn did not like Phillips picture. I thought it was reckoned a good one. If he bad • Childe Harold. Sd Canto. t On the death of Sheridan, Poems, p. 190. J See Journal in Switzerland, Sept. 23. 96 LETTERS, 1816 made the speech on the original, perhaps he would have been more readily forgiven by the proprietor and the painter of the portrait." + * * LETTER CCCIII. TO MR. MURRAY. "Diodati, Sept. 30, 1816. 8 1 answered your obliging letter* yesterday : to-day (he Monody 4 arrivod with its titfe-page, tvhich is, I presume, a separate publication, 'The request ofa friend:'— 1 Unlived l.y hooger and request of friends.' I will request you to expunge that same, unless you please to add, 1 by a person of quality, 1 or 'of wit and honour about town.' Merely say, 'written t" b spoken at Drury-lane.' To-morrow 1 dine at Copet. Saturday I strike tents t" >r Italy. This evening, on the lake in my boat with Mr. Hobhouse, the, pole which sustains the mainsail slipped in tacking, and struek me so violently on one of mv legs, (the ttwaf, luckily,) as to make me do a tboush thing, viz. to fiiird — a downright swoon; the thing must have jarred some nerve or other, for i lie bone is not injured, and hardly painful, (it is six hours sine.-,) and cost Mr. Hobhouse some apprehension and much sprinkling of water to re- cover me. The sensation was a vrrv odd "in-: I never had but two such before, once from a cut on the head from a stone, several years ago, and once (long ago also) in tailing into a great wreath of snow; — a sort of gray giddi- ness first, then nothingness and a total loss of me ry on beginning to recorer. The last part is not disagreeable, il one did not tin I it aL'aui. " You want the original MSS. Mr. Davies has the first fair copy in my own hand, and I have the rough composition here, and will send or save it for you, since you wish it. ■ With regard to your new literary project, if any thin" falls in the way which will, to the best of my judgment, suit you, I will send you what I can. At present I must lay by a little, having pretty well exhausted myself in what I have sent yon. Italy or Dalmatia and another summer may, or may not, set me off again. I have no plans, and am nearly as indifierenl what may come as where I go. I shall take Felicia Hemans 1 Restoration, &c with me; it is a good poem — very. "Pray repeat my best thanks and remembrances to Mr. Gilford for all his trouble and good-nature towards me. "Do not fancy me laid up, from the beginning of this scrawl. I tell yon the accident for want of better to say; but it is over, and 1 am only wondering what the deuce was the matter with me. "I have lately been over all the Bernese Alps and their lakes. I think many of the scenes (some of which were not those usually frequented by the English) finer than Chamouni, which 1 msiicI „,,ine time before. I have been to Clarens again, and crossed the m tains behind it: of this tour 1 kept a short jnurnalt for mv sister, which I sent yesterday in tiree letters, li is not all for perusal : but if you like to hear about the romantic part, she will, I dare say, show you what touches upon the rocks, &c. ■Christabel — I won't have any one sneer at Christabel: It is a tine wild poem. ***** ".Madame de Slael wishes to see tie- Antiquary, and I am going to take it to her to-morrow, she ha- made Copot as agreeable as society and talent can make any place on earth. "Yours ever, "Is'."' by Longman ; but do not send out more books — 1 have ton many. "The 'Monody 1 is in too many paragraphs, which makes it unintelligible to me; if any one else understands it in the [iresent form, they are wiser; however, as it cannot lie rectified till my return, and has been already piiblished, even publish if on in the collection — i> will fill up die place of the omitted epistle. "Strike out 'by request of a friend,' which is sad trash, and must have been done 10 make it ridiculous. "lie careful in die printing the stanzas beginning, ' Though die day of my rtmlllj '■,' &c.* which I think well of as a composition. "'The Antiquary' is not the best of the three, but much above all the last twenty years, saving its elder brothers. Holcrofi's Memoirs are valuable, a- showing the strength Of endurance in the man, which is uorth more than all the talent in die world. "And so you have been publisliing 'Margaret of Anion 1 and an Assyrian tale, and refusing W. W.'s Waterloo, and ile- 'Hue and fry.' I know not which most to admire, your rejections or acceptances. I believe that prose is, after all, the most reputable: for ecries, if on< ■but I won'i go on — that is, with this sentence , but poetry 1 fear, incurable. God help me I if 1 proceed in this scribbling, I shall have flittered away my mind before 1 am thirty ; but it is at times a real relief to nle. For the pre- sent — good evening." LETTER CCCIV. TO MR. MURRAY. "Diodati, Oct. 5, 1816. ****** •Save mo a copy of 'Buck's Richard HI. 1 republished LETTER CCCV. TO MR. MURRAY. ■Martiimy, Oct. 9,1816. "Thus far on my way to Italy. We have just passed the 'Piss,- \'.„ li,.' (one of the first torrents in Switzerland) in time to view the iris which die sun flings along it before noon. " I have written to you twice lately. Mr. Davies, I hear, is arrived. He brings the original MS. which you wished to see. Recollect that 'he printing is t- be from that which Mr. Shelley brought; and recollect alsc that the concluding stanzas of Childe Harold (those to my 'daughter) which I had not made up my mind whether to publish or not when they w.re.AVst ?! rilten. (as you will see marked on the margin of the first copy,) I had (and have) fully determined to publish with the re ,t of the Canio ,,s in the copy which you received by Mr. Shelley, before I sent ii in England. "Our weather is very fine, which is more than the sum- mer has been.— At Milan I shall expect to hear from yon, Address either to Milan, posts resftmte, or by way of Ge- neva, to the care of Monsr. Hentsch, Banqirier. I wnte these few lines in case my other letter should not reach you : I trust one of them will. "P. S. My best respects and regards to Mr. GifTnrd. Will you tell him, it may perhaps be as well to put a short note to thai pan relating to Clara*, merely to say, that of course the description does not refer lo tint particular spot so much as to the conunand of scenery round ii? I do not know that this is necessary, and leave it to Mr. G.'s ' ' ' • as my editor,— if be will allow me to call hitn so at this distance." LETTER Cl'<\ [, TO MR. MURRAY. ■Milan, Oct. 16,181*. "I hear that Mr. Davies has arrived in England, but that of some letters, &c. commilted to his care by Mr. "lohholtse, only /W/"have been deliver. -d. This intelligence naturally makes me feel a little anxious lor nine, and • On ui e death of Sheridan. See Leller 439. J See Journal, p. 1U:< ' See i\>ea», ii. 198. LETTERS, 1810. 07 among them for the MS. which I wished to have compared Mill the one s*-nt by me through the hands of Mr. Shelley. I trust that i/ has arrived safely, — and indeed not less so, that some little crystals, &c. from Mont Blanc, for my daughter and my nieces, have reached their address. Pray have the goodness to ascertain from Mr. Davics that no a> . idenl (b\ custom-house or loss) has befallen them, and nil sfy me on this point at vour earliest convenience. " If I recoiled rightly, you told me that Mr. GifTord had Kindly undertaken to correct the press (at my request) during inv absence — at least 1 hope so. It will add to my many obligations to that gentleman. "I wrote to vou, on mv way here, a short note, dated Martigny, Mr. Hobhouse and myself arrived here a few days ago, by the Simplou and LagoMaggiore route. Of course we visited the Borromean Islands, which are fine, bm too artificial. The Simplon is magnificent in its na- ture and its ar', — both God and man have done wonders, — 'ii say nothing of the Devil, who must certainly have I tad a hand (or a hoof) in some of the rocks and ravines i .ind over winch the works are carried. ''Milan is striking — the cathedral superb. The city ther reminds me of Seville, but a litile inferior. "We liad heard divers bruits, and took precautions on the road, near the frontier, against some 'many worthy fellows (i. e. felons) that were out,' and had ransacked some pre- ceding traveller?, a few weeks ago, near Sesto, — or Cestr*, I forget which, — of cash and raiment, besides putting thetn in bodily fear, and lodging about twenty slugs in the re- treating part of a courier belonging to Mr. Hope. But wc were not molested, and, I do not think, in any danger, except of making mistakes in the way of cocking and priming whenever we saw an old house, or an ill-looking thicket, and now and then suspecting the 'true men, 1 who have very much the appearance of the thieves of other countries. What the thieves may look like, I know not, nor desire to know, for it seems they come upon you in bodicE ofthirty ('in buckram and Kendal green) at a time, lo that voyagers have no great chance. It is something poor dear Turkey in that respect, but not so goal, lor t^ere you can have as great a body of rogues to match the regular banditti; but hire the gens-d'amies are said to be no great things, and as for one's own people, one can 1 ! carry them about, like Robinson Crusoe, with a gun on each shoulder. "I have been to the Ambrosian library — it is a fine CuBectJon — full of MSS. edited and unedited. I enclose vou a list of the f >mier recently published: these are mat- ters for your literati. For me, in my simple way, I have been most delighted with a correspondence of letters, all original and amatory, between Lucretia Borgia and Cm- (ttiud Jirmln, preserved there. 1 have pored over them and a lock of her hair, the prettiest and fairest imaginable — I never saw fairer — and shall go repeatedly to read the - over and over ; and if I can obtain some of the hair bv lair means, I shall trv. I have aheady persuaded the librarian to promise me copies of the letters, and I hope he will not disappoint me. They are short, but very simple, tweet, and to the purpose; there are some copies of verses ■ Spanish also by her \ the tress of her hair is long ami as I said before, beautsrul. The Brera gallery of paintings has some fine pictures, lmt nothing of a collection. Of painting I know nothing; but ! like a Guercino— a picture of Abraham putting away Hagar and Ishmael — which seems t" me natural and goodly. The Flemish school, such as I saw it in Flanders, I utterly detested, despised, and abhorred ; it might he painting, but it was not nature; the Italian is pleasing and their vleal very noble. •The Italians I have encountered here are very intelli- gent and agre*-ab'e. In a few days I am to meet Monti. By-the-way, I have iw*t heard an anecdote of Beceaiia, who published sneh admirable things against the punish- ment of death. As soon as his booh was out, his wrvant (having read it, I presume,) stole his watch; and his master, 13 while correcting the press of a second edition, did all ho could to have him hanged by way of advertisement. "1 forgot to mention the triumphal arch begun by Na- poleon, as a gate to ihis city. It us unfinished, but the part eonipleted worthy of another age and the same country. The society here is very oddly carried on. — at the theatre, and the theatre only, — whli h answers to our opera. Peoplo meet there as at a mut, but in verv small circles. From Milan I shall go to Venice. If you write, write to Geneva, as before — the letter will be forwarded. "Yours ever." LETTER CCCYII. TO MR. MURRAY. "Milan, Nov. 1,1816. B I have recently written to you rather frequently, bu* without any late answer. Mr. Hobhouse and myself set out for Venice in a few days; but you had better still ad- 'lress to me at Mr. Hcnt sen's, Banqtricr, Geneva; he will forward your letters. a l do not know whether I mentioned to you, some time ago, that I had parted with the Dr. Pohdori a few weeks previous to mv leaving Diodati. I know no great harm of him; but he had an alacrity of getting into scrapes, and was too young and heedless : and having enough to attend to in mv own concerns, and without time to become his tutor, I thought ii much better to give him his conge. He arrived al Milan some weeks before Mr. Hobhouse and myself. About a week ago, in consequence of a quarrel at the theatre with an Austrian officer, in which he was exceed- ingly in the wrong, he has contrived to get sent out of the territory, and is gone to Florence. I was not present, the pit having been the scene of altercation ; but on being sent for from the Cavalier Breme's box, where I was quietly staring at the ballet, I found the man oi" medicine begirt with grenadiers, arrested by the guard, conveyed into the guard-room, where there was much swearing in several languages. Thev were going to keep him there for the night ; but on mv giving my name, and answering for his apparition next morning, he was permitted egress. Next dav he had an order from the government to be gone in twenty-four hours, and accordingly gone he is, some days ago. We did what we could for him, but to no purpose^ and indeed he brought it upon himself, as far as I could 'cam, for I was not present at the squabble "itself. I believe this is the real state of bis case; and 1 tell it you because I believe things sometimes reach vou in England in a false or exaggerated form. We found Milan very polite and Ik isphable, and have the same hopes of Verona and Venice. I have filled my paper. "Ever yours, &c." LETTER CCCVIII. TO MR. MOORE. K Verona, Nov. 6, 1816. "MV PEAR MOORE, " Your letter, written hef >re my departure from England, nd addressed to me in London, only reached me recently. Since that period, I have been over a portion of that part of Europe which I had not already seen. About a month ince, I crossed the Alps from Switzerland to Milan, which I left a few davs ago, and am thus far on my way to Venice, where I shall probably winter. Yesterday I was on the shores of the Benams, with his JkutibtU el fremitu. Catullusrs Sirmium has still its name and site, and is re- membered for his sake ; but the very heavy autumnal rains and mists prevented our quilting our route (that is, Hob- house and myself, who are at present voyaging together,) a- it was better not to see it at all than to a great disad- vantage. ■ 1 found on the Benacus the same tradition of a city still viable in calm weather below the waters, which you havi preserved of Lough Neagh, When the clear, cold 98__ ove's declining.' I do not know that it is authorized by records; but they tell you such a story, and say that the city was swallowed up by an earthquake. We moved lo-day over the frcntier to Verona, by a road suspected of thieves— ' the wise convey it call,'— but without molesta- tion. I shall remain here a day or two to gape at the LETTERS, 181o. usual marvels— amphitheatre, paintings, and all thai time- lax of travel— though Catullus, Claudian, ami Shakspeare have done more for Verona than n ever did for itself. They still pretend to show, 1 believe, til Capulets' — we shall see. "Among many things at Milan, one pleased me nar- deularlv, viz. the correspondence (in the prettiest love- letters in the world) of Lucretia Borgia with Cardinal Bembo, (who, you say, made a very good cardinal,) and a lock of her hair, and some Spanish verses of hers,— the lock very fair and beautiful. I took one single hair of it as a relic, and wished surely to get a copy of one or two of the letters; but it is prohibited : Utal I don't mind; but it was impracticable; and so I only got some-of them by heart. They are kept in the Ainbrosian Library, which I often visited to look them over — to the scandal of the librarian, who wauled to enlighten inc with sundry valuable MSS. classical, philosophical, and pious. But I stick to |h< Pi pa's daughter, and wish myself a cardinal. « I have seen the finest parts of Switzerland, the Rhine, the Rhone, and the Swiss and Italian lakes ; for the beau- ties of which I refer you to the Guide-book. The north of Italy is tolerably free from die English ; but the south swarms with them, I am told. Madame de Stall I saw frequently at Copet, which she renders remarkably plea- sant. She has been particularly kind to me. I was for some months her neighbour, in a country-house called Diodali, which I had on the Lake of Geneva. My plans are very uncertain ; but it is probable that you will see me in England in the spring. I have some business there If you write to me, will you address to die care of Moos. Hentsch, Banquier, Geneva, who receives and forward, my letters. Remember me to Rogers, who wrote to me lately, with a short account of your poem, which, I trust, is near the light. He speaks of it most highly. •My health is very endurable, except diat I am subject to casual giddiness and faintnesses, which is so like a fine lady, diat I am radier ashamed of the disorder. When I sailed, 1 had a physician with me, whom, after some months of patience, I found it expedient to part with, before I left Geneva some time. On arriving at Milan, I found dlis gentleman in very good society, where he prospered for some weeks; but, at length, at the theatre he quarrelled with an Austrian officer, and was sent out by the govern- ment in twenty-four hours. . I was not present at his squabble ; but on hearing that he was put under arrest, I went and got him out of his confinement, but could not prevent his being sent oti; which, indeed, ho partly deserved, being quite in the wrong, and having begun a r.iwfor row's sake" I had preceded the Austrian government some weeks myself, in giving him his conge' from Geneva. He 13 not a bad fellow, but very young and hotheaded, and more likely to incur diseases than to cure them. Hobhouse and myself found it useless to intercede for him. This happened some time before we left Milan. He is gi Florence. " At Milan I saw, and was visited by, Monti, the most celebrated of the living Italian poets. He seems near sixty: in face he is like the late Cooke the actor. H frequent changos in politics have made him very unpopular as a man. I saw many more of their literati; but none whose names are well known in England, except Acerbi I lived much with the Italians, particularly with the Mar- quis of Breme's family, who aro very able and intelligent men, especially the Abate. There was a famous impro- visator who held forth while I was there. His fluency astonished me; but although I understand Italian, and •peak it, (with more readiness than accuracy,) 1 could only carry off a few very commonplace mythological iuii.-e*, and one line about Artemisia, and another about Algiers, unli sixty words of an entire tragedy about Etioclcs and Polynices. Some of die Italians liked him — others called bis performance ' scccatura' (a devilish good word, bv-thc- ,vay) — and all Milan was in controversy about him. "The state of morals in these pans is in some sort lax. A mother and son were pointed out at the theatre, as being pmnncuced by die Milanese world to be of the Theban tomb of all the j dynastv— but this was all. The narrator (one of the first men iri Milan) seemed to be not sufficiently scandalized by the ii i. or die lie. All society in Milan is carried on at the opera: they have private boxes, where diey play at cards, or talk, or any tiling else ; but (except at the Cas- siuo) there are no open booses, or balls, &c. &c. * "The peasant girls have all very fine dark eyes, and many of them are beautiful. There are also two dead bodies in fine preservation — one Sainl Carlo Boromeo, at Milan; the other not a saint, but a chief named Vw tt, at Monza— both of which appeared very agreeable. In one of il,i> Boramean isles, (the (sola beuaj there is a large laurel the largest known — on which Buonaparte, staying there |osl before the battle of Marengo, carved with hut knife the word 'Battaglia.' I saw the letters, now half worn out and partly erased, • Excuse this tedious letter. To be tiresome is the pri- vilege of old age and absence: I avail myself of die latter and the former I have anticipated. If I do not speak to you of my own affairs, it is not from want of confidence, but to spare you and myself. My day is over— « bat then' — I have bad it. To be sure, 1 have shortened it J* and if I had done as much by this letter, it would have been as weli. But vow will fugue that, if not the other faults of " Yours, ever and most affectionately, "B. « P. S. Nov. 7, 1816. " I have been over Verona. The amphitheatre is won- derful—beats even Greece. Of the truth of Juliet's si >ry, they seem tenacious to a degree; insisting on the fact — giving a date, (130S,) and showing a tomb. It is a plain, open, and partly decayed sarcophagus, with withered leaves in it, in a wild and desolate conventual garden, once a cemetery, now ruined to the very graves. The situation struck rue as very appropriate to die legend, being blighted as their love. I have brought away a few pieces of die granite, to give to my daughter and my nieces. Of tho other marvels of this city, paintings, antiquities, Sec. except- ing die tombs of the Scabgei pri ■-, I have no pretensions to judge. The Gothic monuments of the Scaligers pleased me, but ' a poor virtuoso ain 1,' and "Ever yours." LETTER CCCIX. TO MR. MOOItE. 'Venice, Nov. 17,1816. " I wrote to you from Verona the other day in my pro- gress hither, which letter I hope you will receive. Some three years ago, or it may be more, I recollect your telling me diat you had received a letter from our friend Sam, dated 'On board bis gondola.' My gondola is, at this present, waiting for me on the canal; but I prefer writing to you in the house, it being autumn — and rather an English autumn than otherwise. It is my intention to remain at Venice during the winter, probably, as it has always been (next to the East) tho greenest island of my imagination. It has not disappointed me; though its evi- dent decay would, perhaps, have that effect upon others. But I havo been familiar with ruins too long to dislike desolation. Besides, 1 have fallen in love, which, next to fallini into the canal, (which would be of no use, as I can ■ See Don Juno, Canto 1. ■Iaau'il3 l Ac LETTERS, 1816. swim,) is the best or the worst thing I could do. I have got some extremely good apartments in fhe house of a 1 Merchant of Venice,' who is a good deal occupied with business, and has a wife in her twenty-second year. Ma* rtauna (that is her name) is in her appearance altogether like an antelope. She has the large, black, oriental eyes, with that peculiar expression in them which is seen rarely anions Europeans — even the Italians — and which many of the Turkish women give themselves by tinging the eye- lid, — an art not known out of that country, I believe. This expression she has naturally, — and something more than this. In short, I cannot describe the effect of this kind of eye, — at least upon me. Her features are regular, and radier aquiline — mourn small — skin clear and soft, with a kind of hectic colour — forehead remarkably good: her hair is of the dark gloss, curl, and colour of Lady Jersey's: her figure is tight and pretty, and she is a famous songstress — scientifically so: her natural voice (in conversation, I mean) is very sweet; and the naivete" of the Venetian dia- lect is always pleasing in the mouth of a woman. * Nov. 23. ■You will perceive that my description, which was pro- ceeding with the minuteness uf a passport, has been inter- rupt^ for several days. In the mean time, * * 99 "Dec. 5. "Since my former dates, I do not know thai I have much to add on the subject, and, luckily, nothing to take away ; for I am more pleased than ever with my Venetian, and begin to feel very serious on that point — so much so, that I shall be silent. ***** B By way of advertisement, I am studying daily, at an Armenian monastery, the Armenian language. I found that my mind wanted some tiling craggy to break upon; and this — as die most difficult thing I could discover here for an amusement — I have chosen, to torture me into atten- tion. It is a rich language, however, and would amply repay any one the trouble of learning it. I try, and .shall go on ; but I answer for nothing, least of all for my intentions or my success. There are some very curious MSS. in the monastery, as well as books ; translations also from Greek originals, now lost, and from Persian and Syriae, &c; besides works of their own people. Four years ago the French instituted an Armenian professorship. Twenty pupils presented themselves on Monday morning, full of noble ardour, ingenuous youth, and impregnable industry. They persevered, with a courage worthy of the nation and ot universal conquest, till Thursday; when Jifteen of the twenty succumbed to the six- and- twentieth letter of the alphabet. It is, to be sure, a Waterloo of an alphabet — that must be said for them. But it is so like these (Vllnws, In do by it as they did by their sovereigns — abandon both ; to parod) the old rhymes, 'Take a thing and give a thin^ — 'Take a King and give a King.' They are the worst of animals, except their conquerors. U I h«ar that Hodgson is your neighbour, having a living in Derbyshire. You will find him an excellent-hearted fellow, as well as one of the cleverest; a little, perhaps, too much japanned by preferment in die church and the tuition of youth, as well as inoculated with the disease of domestic felicity, besides being overrun with fine feelings about woman and constancy, (that small change of Love, which people exact so rigidly, receive in such counterfeit coin, and repay in baser metal ;) but, otherwise, a very worthy man, who has lately got a pretiy wSe, and (I suppose) a child by this time. Pray remember me to him, and say dial I know not wliich to envy most — his neighbourhood, him, or you. "Of Venice I shall say little. You must have seen many descriptions; and they are most of them like. It is a poetical place ; and classical, to us, from Shakspeare and Otway.* I have not yet sinned against it in verse, nor do I know that I shall do so, having been tuneless since I crossed the Alps, and feeling, as yet, no renewal of the 'estro.' By-the-way, I suppose you have seen 'Glenarvon.' Madame de Stael lent it me to read from Copet last autumn. It seems to me, that if the authoress had written the truth, and nothing but the truth — die whole truth — the romance would not only have been more romantic, but more entertaining. As for the likeness, the picture can't be good — I did not sit long enough. When you have leisure, let me hear from and of you, believing me ever and truly yours, most affectionately, «B. P. S. Oh! your Poem — is it out? I hope Longman has paid his thousands: but don't you do as Horace Twiss' father did, who, having made money by a quarto tour, became a vinegar merchant; when, lo! his vinegar turned sweet (and be d — d to it) and ruined him. My last letter to you (from Verona) was enclosed to Murray — have you got it J Direct to me here, paste restante. There are no English here at present. There were several in Switzer- land — some women; but, except Lady Dalrymple Hamil- ton, most of theni as ugly as virtue — at least, those that I saw." LETTER CCCX. TO MR. MOORE. "Venice, Dec. 24, 1816. a I have taken a fit of writing to you, which portends postage — once from Verona*— once from Venice, and again from Venice — thrice that is. For this you may thank yourself, fur I heard that you complained of my silence — so, here goes for garrulity. "I trust that you received my other twain of letters. My 'way of life' (or 'May of life,' wliich is it, according to the commentators f) — my 'way of life' is fallen into great regularity. In the mornings I go over in my gondola to hobble Armenian with the friars of die convent of St. Lazarus, and to help one of theni in correcting the English of an English and Armenian grammar which he is publish ing. In the evenings I do one of many nothings — either at die theatres, or some of the conversaziones, which are like our routs, or rather worse, for the women sit in a semi- circle by the lady of the mansion, and the men stand about the room. Tobe sure, there is one improvement upon ours — instead of lemonade with their ices, they hand about stiff rum~punch— punch, by my palate; and this Uiey think English. I would not disabuse them of so agreeable an error, — 'no, not for Venice.' "Last night I was at the Count Governor's, which, of course, comprises the best society, ami is very much like odier gregarious meetings in every country, — as in ours,— except that, instead of the bishop of "Winchester, you have the patriarch of Venice ; and a motley crew of Austrians, Germans, noble Venetians, foreigners, and, if you see a quiz, you may be sure he is a consul. Oh, by-the-way, I forgot, when I wrote from Verona, to tell vou that at Milan I met with a countryman of yours— a Colonel * * * *, a very excellent, good-natured fellow, who knows and shows all about Milan, and is, as it were, a native there. He is particularly civil to strangers, and this is his history, — at least, an episode of it. u Six-and-twenty years ago Col. * * * * } then an ensign, being in Italy, fell in love with the Marchesa * * * *, and she with him. The lady must be, at least, twenty years his senior. The war broke out ; lie returned to England, to serve — not his country, for that 's Ireland — but England, which is a different thing; ami she — heaven knows what she did. In the year 1814, the first annunciation of the definitive treaty of peace (and tyranny) was developed to the astonished Milanese by the arrival of Col. * * * * who, flinging himself full length at the feel of Madamo • S*e CilJt Harold. Cuito IV. iUa&. 4 ami 18. 100 letters, me. * * * *, murmured forth, in hal£ forgot ten Irish Iialian, eternal vows of indelible constancy. The lady screamed and exclaimed, 'Who are you ? The Colonel cried, ' What, don't you tf&OW me > I am so and so,' &c. &.C.&.C.; till, at length, die JVlarchcsa, mounting from rennrasi - m ■•■ to reminiscence, through the lovers of the intermediate twenty-five years, arrived at last at the recollection of her pnvero sub-heutcnanf. She then said, 'Was there ever ouch virtue ? (that was her very word,) and, being now widow, gave him apartments iu her palaee, reinstated him in all the rights ofwron*, and hekl him up to the adminii: world as a miracle of incontinent liddity, and the unshaken Abdiel of absence. "Methinks this is as pretty a tnoral tale as any of Mar- montePs. Here is another. The same lady, several years a^'o, made an < '-<-;i;,a f,: u nh a Swede, ( \miil Ferscn, (the same whom the Stockholm mob <|»iarfered and lapidated not very long since,! and they arrived at an osteria on the road to Rome or thereab mts. It was a summer evening, ajid, while they were at supper, they were suddenly regaled by a symphony of fiddles in an adjacent aparmuiit, so prettily pfaveii, that, wishing to hear ihem more distinctly, the Count rose, and going into the musical society, said, 'Gentlemen, I am sure that, as a company of gallant cava- liers, vou will he delighted to show your skill to a lady, who feels anxious,' &c. &c. The men of harmony were all acquiescence — every instrument was tuned and toned, and, striking up one of their most ambrosia] airs, the whole band followed the Count to the lady's apartment. At their head was the first tiddler, who, bowing and fiddling at the same moment, I faded ins troop and advanced up the room, Death and discord ! — it was the Marquis himself who was on a serenading party in the country, while ins sp use had run away from town. The re^l may be imagined — but, firs! of all, the lady tried to persuade him thai shfl was there on purpose to meet him, and had chosen this method for an harmonic surprise. So much for this gossip, which amused me when 1 heard it, and 1 send it to you, in the hope it may have the like edict. Now well return to Venice. "The day after to-morrow (to-morrow hemg Christmas* day) the Carnival begins. I dine with the Countess Albrizzi and a party, and go to the opera.* On that day the Phe nix (not the Insurance Office hut the t heal re of that name) opens; 1 have gol me a l*>x there for the season, for two reasons, one of which is, that the music is remarkably good. The Contessa Albrizzi, of whom I have made mention, is the I '♦ Stael of Venice, not young, but a verv learned, unaffected, good-natured woman, very polite to stranger*, and, 1 believe, not at all dissolute, as most of the women nre. Stie has written very well on die works of Canova, and also a volume of Characters, besides other printed matter. She is "I ' loriu, but married a dead Venetian — that is, dead since he married. "My tlame (my L Donna' whom I spoke of in my former epistle, my Marianne.) is still my Marianna, and 1 her — what she pleases. She is by far the prettiest woman I have seen here, ami the most Liveable I have met with any where — as well as one of the most singular, [believe 1 told you the rise an I progress of our tiauon in m\ former letter. Lest that should not have reached you, I will merely repeat that she is a Venetian, two-and-twenlv years old, married to a merchant welt to do in the world and that she has great black oriental eyes and all the qualities which her eyes promise. Whether being in love with her has steeled me or not, I do not know; bui 1 have not seen many other women who seein pretty. The no- bility, in particular, are a sad-looking race — the gentry rather belter. And now, what art Uiou doing ? " What arc you doing now, ill,, Thornst Moors? What nre jrou tloing now, Oh, Thointti Moore? * Saw Letter U7. Sighing or firing new, Rliyimit* or wooing uuv, i: i,_- rcoatog ■**! K tacti, TIkpbbu Moure? Art- vmi not near the Luddites? By the Lord! iflherw\i a row, but I 'II be among ye! How go on thr weavers- tin' breakers of frames — die Lutherans vt' politic* — ilw reformers / l. *• At the Nbtrtv Uib o*« lha *-* BuUglr* Ut-ir lirtColn, attck tliraol;, with bluotl, N. at, I-.;;*, we Will Hit ffghtrOg, «.r tire free. And Jmni with all kings bin king l.uihl I "Winn the avh lhal wi- nsvc iacornjiletc, Ami the abniik exchanged for ii>« »»otii, Wt wtii diugUM wkidaig! atiatl O'er lha iJeauul al OUT t"-t, Aixt djc it i!u v in tin- -ore Ik liai (tour'd. 3 " Though Mack n» M> hmmrl luhoo, ."■line hla n m an corrupted 10 mod, v. i blue dew WMch n. shock your neighbour Hodg- son, who is all clergy and loyalty — mirth and innocence — milk and water. 11 But thr Cornt*>] *» Cuming, nli, I'hoonti Mwore, The Carnival 'l uMMbuj, Oli, Tlioniiia Moon, Maaking and humrabiE, Filini* mill drunit 2, Gniturriiie mid •tltim ruing, Ob, 1'hoinj.i Moore. The other night I saw a new play, — and the author. The subject was the sacrifice of Isaac. The play surer t ded and they called for the author — according to com its custom — and he presented himself) a noble Veneliail Mali, or Malapieio, by name. Mala was his name, and petatma his production, — at least, I thoughl so, and I ought to know, having read more or less of five hundred Drurv- lane offerings, during my coadjutorship with the sub-and- ijuper Couuiiittoe, ■ When docs your Poem of Poems come our ? I hear thai the Edinburgh Review has cut up Coieridgc'd Chris- label, and declared against me tor praising it.* I praised it, firstly, because I thought well of it; secondly, because 1 loli ridge was in great distress, and, afler doing what tittle I could for him in essentials, 1 thought thai the public avowal of my good opinion might help hirri farther, at leas; with the booksellers. I am ver) sorry that Jeflrei has attacked him, because, poor fellow, it will hurt him m mind and pocket. As fbr me, he's welt ome — 1 shall never think less of Jeffrey for any thing he may say against me or mine in future.) ■ I suppose Murray has senl you, or will send (for I do not know whether they are out or no,) the poem, or poesies of mine, of lasl summer. By the mass! they're sublime — 'Ganioti Cohcriza' — gainsay who dares! Pray, let me hear from you, and of you, and, at least, let me (mow thai you have received these three letters. Direct, right ktre. paste restante. " Ever and ever, &c. "P. S. I heard the other day of a pretty trick of u Itook- SoDer, who has published some d — d nonsense, swearino' die bastards to me, ;uid saying he gave me five hundred guineas for them, lie lies — I never wrote such stuff never saw the poems, nor the publisher of them, iu mvlife, nor had any communication, directly or indirectly, with the Allow. Pray say as much for me, if need be. J have written to Murray, to make him contradict the impo*»*'»r. R.-r NoteS to the 'SScgvef rnrinth.' fee Own Juan t ai.io Iu blWrfa 'b- LETTKKii, 1816. 161 LETTER CCCXU TO MR. MURRAY. •Venice, Nov. 25, 1816. •It is some months since I have heard from or of you— t think, not since I left Diodati. From Milan 1 wrote •nice ot twice; but have been here some little time, and intend to pass the winier without removing. I was much pleased wilh the Lago di Garda, and wilh Verona, par- Ucularly the amphitheatre, and a sarcophagus in a convent garden, which thev show as Juliet's: they insist on the truth of her history. Since my arrival at Venice, the lady of the Austrian governor told me that between Verona and Vicenzo there are still ruins of the ca-tle of the Slontecdu, and a chapel once appertaining to the Capulets. Romeo seems to have been of Vuxma, by the tradition; but 1 was a good deal surprised to tind so lirm a faith in Bandello's novel, which seems really to have been founded on a fact. " Venice pleases me as much as I expected, and I expected much. It is one of those places which I know bef ire I see them, and has always haunted me the most after the East. I like the gloomy gayety of their gondolas, and the silence of their canals. I do not even dislike the evident decay of the city, though I regret the singularity ol its vanished costume: however, there is much left still; the Carnival, ,oo, is coining. "Si. Mark's, and indeed Venice, is most alive at night. The theatres are not open till nine, and the society is pro- portionably late. All this is to my taste, but most of your countrymen miss and regret Uie rattle of hackney coaches, without which they can't sleep. " I have got remarkably good apartments in a private house; I see something of the inhabitants, (having had a good many letters to some of them ;) I have got my gon- dola; I read a little, and luckily coujd speak Italian (more fluently than correctly) long ago. I am studying, out of curiosity, die Venetian dialect, which is very naVve, and soft, and peculiar, though not at all classical; I go out fre- quently, and am in very good contentment. " The Helen of Ca'nova (a bust which is in the house of Madame the Countess d'Albrizzi, whom I know,) is, without exception, to my mind, the most perfectly beautiful of human conceptions, and far beyond my ideas of human execution. ' In thlfl bdond marble Tiew.' &C. # Talking of the 'heart' reminds me that I have fallen in love, If you write, address to me here, jtustc restante, a?. I shall probably stav the winter over. 1 never see a news- paper, and know nothing of England, except in a letter now and then from my sister. Of the MS. sent you, 1 know nothing, except that you have received it, and are to publish it, &e. &c; but when, where, and how, you leave me to guess; but it don't much matter. "1 suppose you have a world of works passing through your process for next year? When does Moore's Poem appear? I sent a letter for him, addressed to your care the other day." which, except falling into the canal, (and that would be useless, as I swim,) is the best (or worst) thing I could do. I am therefore in love — fathomless love; but lest you should make some splendid nuslake, and envy me the possession of some of those princesses or countesses with whose affections your English voyagers are apt to invest themselves, I beg leave to tell you that my goddess is only the wife of a 'Merchant of Venice;' but then she is pretty as an antelope, is but two-and-twonty years old, has the large, black, oriental eyes, with the Italian countenance, and dark jl-issv hair, of the curl and colour of Lady Jer- sey's. Then she has the voice of a lute, and the song of a seraph, (though not quite so sacred,) besides a long post- script of graces, virtues, and accomplishments, enough to furnish out a new chapter for Solomon's Song. But her great merit is finding out mine — there is nothing so amiable as discernment. Our little arrangement is completed, the usual oaths having been taken, and every thing fulfilled according to the 'understood relations' of such luasons, "The general race of women appear to be handsome hut in Italy, as on almost all the continent, the highest orders are by no means a well-looking generation, and indeed reckoned by their countrymen very much otherwise. Some are exceptions, but most of them as ugly as Virtue oerself. LETTER CCCXII. TO MR. MURRAY. "Venice, Dec. 4, 181b. "I have written to you so frequently of late, that you will diink ine a bore ; as I think you a very impolite person for not answering my letters from Switzerland, Milan, Verona, and Venice. There are some things I wanted, and want to know ; viz. whether M r. Davies, of inaccurate memory, had or had not delivered the MS. as delivered to him ; because, if he has not, you will find that he wiil boun- tifully bestow transcriptions on all the curious of his ac- quaintance, in which case you may probably find your publication anticipated by the 'Cambridge,' or other Chronicles. In the next place — I forget what was next ; but, in the third place, I want to hear whether you have yet published, or when you mean to do so, or why you have not done so, because in your last (Sept. 20, — you may be ashamed of the date,) you talked of this being done imme diately. "From England I hear nothing, and know nothing of any thing or any body. 1 have but one correspondent, (except Mr. Kinnaird on business now and then,) and her a female ; so that I know no more of your island, or city, Uian the Italian version of the French papers chooses to tell me, or the advertisements of Mr. Colburn tagged to the end of your Quarterly Review for the year ago. I wrote to you at some length last week, and have little to add, except that 1 have begun, and am proceeding in, a study of the Armenian language, which I acquire, as well as I can, at the Armenian convent, where I go every day to take lessons of a learned friar, and have gained some singular and not useless information with regard to the literature and customs of that oriental people. They have an establishment here — a church and convent of ninety monks, very learned and accomplished men, some of Uiem. Thev have also a press, and make great efforts for the enlightening of their nation. I find the language (which is hum, the lilerul and the vulgar) difficult, but not in- vincible (at least, I hope not.) I shall go on. I found it necessary to twist my mind round some severe study, and tliis, as being the hardest I could devise here, will be a file for the serpent. " I mean to remain here till the spring, so address to me directly to Venice, pottle rcstonte. — Mr. Hobhouse, for the present, is gone to Rome, wilh his brother, brother's wife, and sister, who overtook him here; he returns in two months. I should have gone too, but I fed in love, and must stay Uiat over. I should think that and the Armenian alphabet will last the w inter. The lady has, luckily for me, been less obdurate than the language, or, between the two, I should havo lost my remains of sanity. By-lhe-way, she is not an Armenian but a Venetian, as I believe I told you in my last. As for Italian, I am fluent enough, even in its Venetian modificaUon, which is something like the Somersetshire version of English; and as for the more classical dialects, 1 had not forgot my former practice much during my voyaging. "Yours, ever and truly, ■becP>.n..., !■ »» »P S Roncmber me to Mr. GuTord." 102 LETTERS, 1817. LETTER CCCXIU. TO MR. MURRA7. "Venice, Dec. 9,1816. ■In a letter from England, I am informed that a man named Johnson has taken upon himself to publish some poems called a ' Pilgrimage to Jerusalem, a Tempest, and an Address to mj I daughter,' &c. and to attribute them to me, adding that he had paid five hundred guineas for them. The answer to this u short:/ never turafe eweft noems, ruwr received Vie sum lie mention^ nor any oVier in the same ouartcr t nor (as far as moral or mortal certainly can be sure,) ever tiad, directly or indirtcdy, Vie slightest communi- cation with Jofoom m my life; not being aware that the person existed till this intelligence gave me to understand that there were such people. Nothing surprises me, or this perhaps xvotdd, and most things amuse me, or this probably would not. With regard to myseHj the man has merely lied; that's natural — his betters have set him the example: but with regard to you, his assertion may per haps injure you in your publications; ami I desire that it mav receive the most public and unqualified contradiction. I do not know that there is any punishment for a thing of this kind, and if there were, I should not feel disposed to pursue this ingenious mountebank farther than was ne- cessary for his confutation ; but thus far it may be neces- sary to proceed. * You will make what use you please of this letter ; and Mr. Kmnaird, who has power to act for me in my absence, will, I am sure, readily join you in any steps which it mav be proper to take with regard to die absurd falsehood of tJiis poor creature. As you will have recently received Beveral letters from me on my way to Venice, as well as two written since my arrival, I will not at present trouble you farther. " Ever, &c *P. S. Pray let me hear that you have received this letter. Address to Venice, poste restitute. "To prevent the recurrence of similar fabrications, you may state, that I consider myself responsible for no pub- lication from the year 1812 up to the present date, which is not from your press. I speak of course from that period, because, previously, CawthotU and Ridge had both printed compositions of nunc. ' A Pilgrimage to Jerusalem? how- the devil should I write about Jerusalem^ never having yet been there? As for 'A Tempest,' it was not a tempest when I left England, but a very fresh breeze: and as to an 'Address to little Ada,' (who, by-the-way, is a year old to- morrow,) I never wrote a line about her, except in 'Fare- well' and the third Canto uf Childe Harold." LETTER CCCXIV. TO MR. MURRAY. "Venice, Dec. 27, 1816. •As the demon of silence seems to have possessed you, I am determined tQ have my revenge in postage : this, is my sixth or seventh letter since summer and Switzerland. My last was an injunction to contradict and consign to confusion that Cheapside impostor, who (1 heard by a letter from your island) had thought proper to append my name to his spurious poesy, of which 1 know nothing nor of his pretended purchase or copyright. 1 hope you have, at least, received OuU letter. B As the news of Venice must be very interesting to you, I will regale you with it. "Yesterday, being the feast of St. Stephen, every moulh was put in motion. There was nothing but riddling and playing on the virginals, and all kinds of conceits and diver- tiscments, on every canal of this aquatic city. I dined with the Countess Albrizza and a Paduan and Venetian party, and afterward went to the opera, at the Fenice theatre (which opens for the Carnival on that day,)— the finest, by-the-way, I have ever seen: it beats our theatres hollow m beauty and scenery, and those of Milan and Brescia bmv before it. The opera and its sirens were much like other operas and women, but die subject ut the said opera was something edifying; it turned — the plot and conduct thereof— Upon a fact narrated by Livy of a hundred and fifty married ladies having poisoned a hundred and fifty husbands in good old times. The bachelors "t Rome be- lieved this extraordinary mortality to be merely the coin- mon effect ofmatrimooy or a pestilence; but the surviving Benedicts, being all seised with the colic, examined into the matter, and found that ' their possets had been drugged ;' Uie consequence of which was, much s< an'iti-\; and therefore Ffeel in a very awkward situation between the two, Air. Gilford and my friend Hobhouse, and can only wish that they had no difference, or that such as they have were a'Tnrnmodrited. The Answer 1 have not seen, for — it is odd enough lor people so intimate — but Mr. Hobhouse and I are very sparing of our literary confi- dences. For example, the other lay he wished to have a MS. of the Thri Canto to read over to his brother, &c. which was reaped; — and I have never seen his journals, nor he mme — (I only kept the short one of the mountains f>r my sister) — nor do I think that hardly ever he or I saw any of the other's productions previous to their publication. "The article in the Edinburgh Review on Coleridge I have not seen; but whether I am. attacked in it or not, or hi any othet vt the same journal, I shall never think ill of Mr. Jeffrey on that account, nor forget that his conduct towards me has been certainly most handsome during the last four or more years. •I forgot to mention to you that a kind of poem in dia- logue* (in blank verse) or drama, from which 'The In- cantation' is an extract, begun last summer in Switzerland, is hm-hed; it is in three acts; but of a very wild, meta- physical, and inexplicable kind. Almost ail the persons — " .Manfred. 14 but two or three — are Spirits of the earth and air, or the waters; the scene is in the Alps; the hero a kind of ma* gician, vim is tormented by a species of remorse, the cause of which is left half unexplained. He wanders about invoking these Spirits, which appear to him, and are of no use ; he at last goes to the very abode of the Evil Principle, in propria persona, to evocate a ghost, which appears, and gives him an ambiguous and disagreeable answer; and in the thud act he is found by his attendants dying in a tower where he had studied his art. You may perceive by this outline that I have no great opinion of this piece of phan tasy ; but 1 have at least rendered it quite impossible for the Stage, for winch my intercourse with Drury-lane has given me the greatest contempt. a I have not eves copied it off, and feel too lazy at preseat to attempt the whole: but when 1 have, I will send it you, and you may either throw n into die rue or not." LETTER CCCXIX. TO MR. MURRAY. "Venice, Feb. 25, 1B1T. B I wrote to you the other day in answer to your letter; at present, I would trouble you with a commission, if you would be kind enough to undertake it. "You perhaps know Mr. Love, the jeweller, of Old Bond-street — In 1813, when in the intention of returning to Turkey, I purchased of him, and paid (argent comptani) about a dozen snuff-boxes, of more or less value, as presents for some of my Mussulman acquaintance. These I have now with me. The other day, having occasion to make an alteration in the lid of one (to place a portrait in it,) it lias turned out to be silva-giU instead of gold, for which last it was sold and paid for. This was discovered by the workman in trying it, before taking off the hinges and work- ing upon the lid. I have of course recalled and preserved the box in statu quo. What 1 wish you to do is, to see the said Air. Love, and inform him of this circumstance, add- ing, from me, that I will take care he shall not have done this with impunity. "If there is no remedy in law, there is at least the eqtut- able one of making known his guilt, — that is, his silver gili, and be d — d to him. "I shall carefully preserve all the purchases I made of liim on that occasion for my return, as the plague in Tur- key is a barrier to travelling there at present, or rather the endless quarantine which would be the consequence before one could land in coming back. Pray state the matter te him with due ferocity. "I sent you the other day some extracts from a kind of Drama which 1 had begun in Switzerland and finished here ; you will tell me if they are received. They were only in a letter. I have not yet had energy to ropy it out, or I would send you the whole in different covers. "The carnival closed this day last week. "Mr. Hobhouse is still at Rome, I believe. I am at preseut-a little unwell; — sitting up too late and some sub- sidiary dissipations have lowered my blood a good deai; but 1 have at present the quiet and temperance of Lent before me. " Believe me, &c* "P. S. Remember me to Mr. Gifford. — I have not re- ceive,! y () ur parcel or parcels. — Look into 'Moore's (Dr. Moore's) View of Italy' for me ; in one of the volumes you will find an account of the Doge Valicre (it ought to be K alien) and his conspiracy, or the motives of it. Get it transcribed for me, and send it in a letter to me soon. I want it, and cannot find so good an account of that business h-re ; though the veiled patriot, and the place where he was crowned, and afterward decapitated, still exist, and are skown. I have searched all their histories; but the policy of the old aristocracy made their writers silent on his mo- ti- -s, which were a private grievance against one of the \" ricians. 108 LETTERS, 1817. •1 mean to write a tragedy on the subject, which aj>- pears to me verv dramatic: an old man, jealous, an I con- •pinng against the state, of which he was the actually feigning chief. The last circumstance makes it the most reroarKable and only Tact of the kind in all history of all ■auxins." LETTER CCCXX. TO MR. MOORE. ■Venice, Feb. 28, 1817. 4 You will, perhaps, complain as much uf the frequency «f my letters now, as you were wont to do of their rarity. I think this is the fourth within as many moons. I feel anxious to hear from you, even more than usual, because your last indicated that you were unwell. At present, I am on the invalid regimen myself. The Carnival — that is, the latter part of it — and sitting up late 0* nights, had knocked me up a little. But it is over, — and it is now Lent, with ail its abstinence and sacred music. " The mumming closed with a masked hall at the Fenice, where I went, as also to most of the ridoltas, &c.&c. ; and, though I did not dissipate much upon the whole, yet 1 find the sword wearing out the scabbard, 1 though I have but •ust turned the corner of twenty-nine. " So we '11 go no more a rcving So late into llie night, Though the heart be still an leving, Ami the moon be still as bright. For the sword outwears its sheath, Ami the soul wear* out the breust, And the heart must pause to breathe, Anil love itself have rest. Though the night whs rnmlc for Wing, Ami the day returns too soon, Tet we '11 go no more a m»ing By the light of the moon. I have lately had some news of litter«tow, as I heard the editor of the Monthly pronounce it once upon a time. I heard that W. W. has been publishing and responding to the attacks of the Quarterly, in the learned Perry's Chro- nicle. I read his poesies last autumn, and, among them, found an epitaph on his bull-dog, and another on mytdtf. But I beg leave to assure him (.like me astrologer Partridge) that I am not only alive now, but was alive also at the time ho wrote it. * * * * ***** Hobhouse has (I hear, also) expectorated a letter against the Quarterly, addressed to me. I feel awkwardly situated between him and Gilford, both being my friends. "And this is your month of going to press — by the body of Diana! (a Venetian oath,) I feel as anxious — but not fearfu! for you — as if it were myself coming out in a work of humour, which would, you know, Ix 1 tin- antipodes of all my previous publications. I don't think you have any thing to dread but your own reputation. You must keep up to that. As you never showed me a line of your work, I do not even know your measure; but you must send me a copy by Murray forthwith, and then yon shall hearwhal I think. I dare say you are in a pucker. Of all authors, you are the only really modest one I ever met with, which would sound oddly enough to those who recollect your morals when you were young — that is, when you were extremely young — I don't mean to stigmatize you either with years or morality. "I believe I told you that the Edinburgh Review had attacked me, in an article on Coleridge (I have not seen it)— i Et tv, Jeffrey V — 'there is nothing but roguery in vil- lanous man. 1 — But 1 absolve him of all attacks, present and future; for I think he had already pushed hi < I m< nn in avy behoof to the utmost, and I shall always think well of him. I only wonder he did not begin before, as my domestic destruction was a fine opening for all the world, of wluch all, who could, did well to avail themselves. "If I live ten years longer] you will see, however, that it is not over with me — I do n't mean in literature, for thai is nothing; and it m;iv seem odd enough U> sav, 1 do not think it my vocation. Hut you will see that I shall do something or other — the times and fortune permitting— that " Like the cosmogony, or creation of (lie world, will puz- zle the philosophers of all ages'.' But I doubt whether my constitution will hold out. 1 have, at intervals, exorcised it most devilishly. "I have not yet fixed a time of return, but I tliink of the spring. 1 shall have been away a year in April next. You never mention Rogers, nor Hodgson, your clerical neigh- hour, who has lately got :i living near you. Has he also _m| a child vet .' — his desideratum when I saw him last. * * * * * * "Pray let me hear from you, at your time and leisure, believing me ever and truly and aflectionalaly, &c." LETTER CCCXXI. TO MK. MURRAY. « Venice, March 3s 1617 B In acknowledging the arrival of the article from the 'Quarterly,'* which 1 received two days agit, I cannot ex- press myself better than in the words ofnrj sister Augusta, who (speaking of it) says, that it is written in a spirit 'of the most feeling and kind nature.' It is. however, some- thing more : it seems to me (as far as the subject of it may be permitted to judge) to be very well written as a compo- sition, and I think will iIm th,- journal do discredit, because even those who condemn its partiality must praise its generosity. The temptations to take another and a less favourable view of the question have been so great and numerous, mat, what with public opinion, politics, &c. he must be a gallant as well as a good man, who has \ i in that place, and at this time, to write such an article even anonymously. Such things are, however, their own reward, and I even flatter myself that the writer, whoever he may be, (and I have no guess,) will not regret that the perusal of this has given me as much gratification as any compo- sition of that nature could ^vr, :uid more than anv ouVr has given] — and I have had a good many in my time of one kind or the other, li is not the mere praise, but there is a tact and a delican/ throughout, not only with regard to me, but to others, which, as it had not been observed elM- uAsre, I had till now doubted whether it could be observed a/i y where. "Perhaps some day or other you will know or tell me the writer's name. Be assured, had ihe article been a harsh one, I should not have asked it. M I have lately written to you frequently, with extracts, &c. which I hope you have received, or will receive, with or before this letter. — Ever since the conclusion of tho Carnival I have been unwell, (donol mention this, on any account, to Mrs. Leigh: for if I grow worse, she will know it too soon, and if I gel better, there is no occasion that ! know n ;it all,) and have hardly stirred out of the house. Ib.wever, 1 do n't want a physx inn, and if I did, very luekilv thosi of Italy are the worst in the wonVL so that I should still have a chance. They have, I believe, one famous surgeon, Vacca, who lives at Pisa, who might be useful in case of dissection : — but he is some hundred miles off. My malady is a sort of lowish fever, originating from what my 'pastor and master," Jackson, would call 'taking too much out of one's self.' However, I am better within this day or two. " I missed seeing the new Patriarch's procession to St Mark's the other day, (owing to my indisposition,) with six hundred and fifty priests in his rear — a ' goodly army. The admirable government of Vienna, in its edict from * in Article iii number 31 of this tttview, written, u Lord Byron after w*rd diKovcred, by Sir W»lt«- Scott. LETTERS, 1817. 10? thence, authorizing his installation, prescribed, as part of the pageant, ' a coach and four horses.' To show how very 'German to the matter this was, you have only to suppose our parliament cominar .in;* the Archbishop of Canterbury to proceed from Hyr* Park Corner to St. Paul's Cathe- dral in the Lord A.av'jr's bar:." 1 , or the Margate hoy. There is but St. Mark's Plare in all Venice broad enough for a carriage to move, and it is paved with large smooth flag stones, so that the chanot and horses of Elijah himself would be puzzled to manoeuvre upon it. Those of Pharaoh might do better ; for the canals, — and particularly the Grand Canal, are sufficiently capacious and extensive for his whole host. Of course, no coach could be attempted ; hilt the Veneiians who are very naive as well as arch, were much amused with the ordinance. 1 The Armenian Grammar is published ; but my Arme- nian studies are suspended for the present till my head aches a little less. I sent you the oilier day, in two covers, the First Act of * Manfred,' a drama as mad as Nat. Lee's Kedlam tragedy, which was in 25 acts and some odd scenes: — mine is but in Three Acts. fi I find I have begun this letter at the wrong end : never Blind ; I must end it, then, at the right. 6 Yours ever verv truly B andobligedly,&c. n LETTER CCCXX1I. TO UK. HURRAY. "Venice, March 9, 1817. •In remitting the Third Act* of the sort of dramatic poem of which you will by this time have received the first two, (at least I hope so,) which were sent within the last three weeks, I have little to observe, except that you must not publish it (if it ever is published) without giving me pre- vious notice. I have really and truly no notion whether it is good or bad ; and as this was not the case with the prin- cipal of mv former publications I am, therefore, inclined to rank it very humbly. You will submit it to Mr. Gilford, and to whomsoever you please besides. "With regard to the question of copyright, (if it ever comes to publication,) I do not know whether you would think three liundred guineas an over-estimate ; if you do, you may diminish it : I do not think it worth more ; so you may see I make some difference between it and the others. 1 1 have received your two Reviews, (but not the ' Tales of Mv Landlord;') the Quarterly I acknowledged particu- larly to you, on its arrival, ten days ago. What you tell me of Perry petrifies me; it is a rank imposition. In or about February or March, 1S16, 1 was given to understand that Mr. Croker was not only a coadjutor in the attacks of the Courier in 1814, but the author of some lines tole- rably ferocious, then recently published in a morning paper. Upon this I wrote a reprisal. The whole of the lines I have forgotten, and even the purport of them I scarcely remember; for on your assuring me that he was not, &c. &c. I put them into the Jire before your face, and there never was but that one rough copy. Mr. Davies, the only person who ever heard them read, wanted a copy, which I refused. If, however, by some impoambUity^ which I cannot divine, the ghost of these rhymes should walk into the world, I never will deny what I have really written, but hold myself personally responsible for satisfaction, though I reserve to myself the right of disavowing all or any fabri- cations. To the previous fans you are a witness, and best know how far my recapitulation is correct; and I request (hat you will inform Mr. Perry from me, that I wonder he should permit such an abuse of my name in his paper; I say an souse, because my absence, al least, demands some respect, and my presence and positive sanction could alone justify him in such a proceeding, even were the lines mine ; * SW« Poemi, p. 470. and if false, there are no words for him. I repeat to you that the original was burnt before you on your as^urance^ and there never was a copy t nor even a verbal repetition, — very much to the discomfort of some zealous Whigs, who bored me for them (having heard it bruited by Mr. Davies that there were such matters) to no purpose ; for, havin» written them solely with the notion that Mr. Croker was the aggressor, and for my own and not party reprisals, I would not lend me to the zeal of any sect when I was made aware that he was not the writer of the offensive passages. You know, if there was such a thing, I would not deny it. I mentioned it openly at the time to vou, and you will remember why and where I destroyed it ; and no power nor wheedling on earth should have made, or could make me, (if 1 recollected them,) give a copy after that, unless I was well assured that Mr. Croker was really the author of that which you assured me he was not, K I intend for England this spring, where 1 have some affairs to adjust ; but the post hurries me. For this month past I have been unwell, but am getting better, and thinking of moving homewards towards May, without going to Rome, as the unhealthy season comes on soon, and I can return when I have settled the business I go upon, which need not be long. * * * * I should have thought the Assy- rian tales very succeedable. °I saw, in Mr. W. "W.'s poetry*, that he had written my epitaph; I would rather have written his. "The thing I have sent you, you will see at a glimpse, could never be attempted or thought of for the stage ; I much doubt it for publication even. It is too much in my old style ; but I composed it actually with a horror of the stage, and with a view to render the thought of it imprac- ticable, knowing the zeal of my friends that I should try that for which I have an invincible repugnance, viz. a re- presentation. "I certainly am a devil of a mannerist, and must leave off: but what could I do? Without exertion of some kind, I should have sunk under my imagination and reality. My best respects to Mr. Gifford, to Walter Scott, and to all friends. "Yours ever" LETTER CCCXXUI. TO MR. MOORE. "Venice, Ma-ch 10, 1817. "I wrote again to you lately, but I hope you won't be sorry to have another epistle. I have been unwell this last month, witli a kind of slow and low fever, which fixes upon me at night, and goes off in the morning ; but, however, I am now better. In spring it is probable we may meet; at least I intend for England, where I have business, and hope to meet you in your restored health and additional laurels. '■Murray has sent me the Quarterly and the Edinburgh. When I tell you that Walter Scott is the author of the article in the former, you will agree with me that such an article is still more honourable to him than to myself. I am perfectly pleased with Jeffrey's also, which I wish you to tell him, With my remembrances — not that I suppose it is of any consequence to him, or ever could have been, whether I am pleased or not, — but simply in my private relation to him, as his well-wisher, and it may be one day as his acquaintance. I wish you would also add, — what you know, — that I was not, and, indeed, am not even nou^ the misanthropical and gloomy gentleman he takes me for» but a facetious companion, well to do with those with whom I am intimate, and as loquacious and laughing as if I were a much cleverer fellow. "I suppose now I shall never be able to shake off my sables in public imagination, more particularly since mi moral * * clove down my fame. However, nor that, noi more than that, has yet extinguished my spirit, which always uses with the rebound. 10ft LETTERS, 1817. ■ At Venice we are in Lent, and I have not lately moved out of doors, — my fevensliness requiring quiet, and — by way of being more quiet — here is the Signora Marianna tart come in and seated at mv elbow. "Have you seen * + *'s book of poesy ? and, if you have |een it, are you not delighted with it? And have you — I ►eally cannot go jn. There is a pair of great black cy*s ooking over my shoulder, like the a*ngel 1'aning ove* St. Matthew's, in the old frontispieces to the Fvangr lists,- -so that I must turn and answer ihem insteafi <^" *ou *Z-er Jtc. n LETTER CCCXXI/" TO MR. MOORE. ■Verio . March 25,1817. ■ I have at last learned, in de^olt of your own writing, (or not writing — which shmilr 1 , t* '*e? fur 1 am not very clear as to the application of the "vurd default,) from Mur- ray, two particulars of (a/e belonging to) you; one, mat von are removing to Hor*' y, which is, I presume, to be nearer London; and the other, that your I'oem is an- nounced by the name o r L.alla Rookh. 1 am glad of it, — first, that we are to h' /e it at last, and next, I like a tough title myself— vitrei the Giaour and Cliilde Harold, which Choked half 'he Hiies at starting. Besides, it is the tail of Alcibiaues's do* — not tliat I suppose you want either dog >r tail. Ta'kmo of tml, I wish you had not called it a Persuin 7\>.' Say a 'Poem' or 'Romance, 1 but not 'Tale.' j ?jti v- ry sorry that I called some of my own things Tales, because I think that they are something better. Besides, we have had Arabian, and Hindoo, and Turkish, Hid Assyrian Tales. But afier all, this is frivolous in me ; foil won't, however, mind my nonsense. "Really and truly, I want you to make a great hit, if >nly out of self-love, because we happen to be old cronies; uid I have no doubt you will — I am sure you can. But ton are, I'll be sworn, in a devil of a pucker; and / am not II your elbow, and Rogers is. I envy him; which is not *air, because he does not envy any body. Mind you send o mu — that is, make Murray send — the moment you are iorth. ' I have been very ill with a slow fever, which at last tooR -o *H'ing, and became as quick as need be. But, at length, alter a *vpek of half-delirium, burning skin, thirst, hot heaaach, horrible pu«atiou,and no-sleep, by me blessing of barley water, and refusing to see any physician, I reco- vered. It is an epidemic of the place, which is annual, and visits strangers. Here follow some versicles, which I jnade one sleepless night. •'I read ihe ' Chrialat>cl ;' Very well : I read l he ' Misaionary ;• Pretty— very : ] tried at ' Iklerirn ;' Ahom ! I icail a »he*-t of ' Marg'ret of Anjau;* Can you 3 1 lurn "d a page of ' • "• Waterloo ;* Pooli 1 Pooh t I looked at Wordsworth** milk win u ' Rylaiom* Doe ;• Hillot I road 'GlMhWTOa' loo, by * * * *, Godd— ul" M have not fire least idea where I am going, nor what 1 am to do. I wished to have gone to Rome ; but at present it is pestilent with English, — a parcel of staring boobies, who go about gaping and wishing to be at once cheap and magnificent A man is a *Jxd who travels now m France or Italv, till mis tribe of «*rei< hes is swept home again. In two or three yean the hr' rush will be over, and the Comment will be roomy ana agreeable. a I stayed at Venice chiefly because it is not one of their Mens of thieves; 1 and here they but pause and pass. In Switzerland it was really noxious. Luckily, I was early and had <_'oi the prettiest place on all the Lake before they i were quickened into motion with the rest of reptiles. Bm thev crossed me every where. I met a family of children and old women hall" way up the Wengen Alp (by the Jimgfrau) upon mules, some of them too old and others too i young to be the least aware of what thev saw. "Bv-tlic-way, I think the Jungfrau, and all that nffOB of Alps, which I traversed in September — going to die very top of the Wengen, which i- not the highest, (the Jungfrau its. || i-. iiincce -iNc) hut the best point of view— much liner than Mont Blanc and Chamouni, or (he Sim- plon. I kept a journal of the whole for my sister Augusta, part of which she copied and let Murray see. "1 wrote a sort of mad Drama, lor the sake of intro ducing the Alpine scenery n description; and this I sent lately to .Murray. Almosl all theoVatm. pcrs. are spirits, ghosts, or magicians, and the scene is in the Alps and the other world ; so you may suppose what a bedlam tragedy it must be: make him show it you. 1 sent him all three acts piecemeal] by the post, and suppose they have arrived. "I have now written to you at least six Inters, or letter- ed, and all 1 have received in return is a note about the length you used to write from Bury-street to St. Jaraes's- street, when we used to dine with Rogers, and talk la.vlv and go to parties, and hear poor Sheridan now and then. Do you remember one night he was so tipsy that I was forced to put his cocked hat on for him, — for he could not, — and I let him down at Brookes's, much as he must since have been let down into his grave. Heigh ho! I wish I was drunk — but I have nothing but dus d— d i.arley water before me. "I am still in love. — which is a dreadful drawback in quilting a place, and 1 can't stay at Venice much longer. What I shall do on this point I do n't know. The girl means to go widi me, but I do not like this for her own sake. I have had so many conflicts in my own mind on this subject, that I am not at all sure they did not help me to the fever I mentioned above. I am certainly very much attached to her, and I have cause to be so, if you knew alL But she has a child ; and though, like all the 'children of the sun, 1 she consults nothing but passion, it is necessary I should think for both; and it is onlv the virtuous, like * * * *, who can atford to give up husband and child, and live happy ever after. 1 The" Italian etlucs are rhe most singular ever met with. The perversion, not only of action, hut of reasoning is sin- gular in the women. It is not that they do not consider the thing itself as wrong and wry wrong but love (the acnlintait of love) is not merely an excuse for it, but makes it an actual tirh/c, provided it is disinterested, and not a caprice, and is confined to one object. 'J 'hey have awful notions of constancy ; for I have seen some ancient figures of eighty pointed out as amoroai of forty, fifty, and sixty years 1 Btanding. 1 can't sav I have ever seen a husband and wife so coupled. ' L Ever, &c. "P. S. Marianna, to whom I have just translated what I have written on our subject to you, says*— ' If you loved me thoroughly, you would not make so many fine reflections, which are only good forbirm i strtrpif — that is, ' to clean shoes withal,' — a Venetian proverb of appreciation, wliich is applicable to reasoning of all kinds." LETTER CCCXXV. TO MR. MURRAY. "Venice, March 25,1817. " Your letter and ** < 'osure are safe ; but ' English gen- tlemen' are very ra . at least in Venice. I doubt whether there are at present any save the consul and vice-consul, with neither of whom I have the slightest acquaintance. The moment 1 can pounce upon a witness, I will mikI ths LETTERS, 1817. 109 Iced properly si;med : but must he necessarily be genteel? \ ,.,. is „„t a place where the English are gregarious; rheir pigeon-houses are Florence, Naples, Home, iic. ; and to tell you the truth, this was one reason why I stayed here till the season of the purgation of Rome from these penole, which is infected with them at this time, should ar- rive'. Besides, I abhor the nation and die nation me ; it 15 able for me to describe my own sensation on that po.nl, but it may suffice to say, thai, if I met with any of lie race in the beautiful parts of Switzerland, die most iistant glimpse or aspect of them poisoned the whole scene, and I do not choose to have the Pantheon, and St. Peter's, and the Capitol, spoiled for me loo. This feeling mav be probably owing to recent events ; but it does not ejdsl the less, and while it exists, I shall conceal it as Utile as anv other. " 1 have been seriously ill with a fever, but it is gone believe or suppose it was the indigenous fever of the place, which comes every year at this time, and of which the physicians change the name annually, to despatch the peo- ple' sooner. It is a kind of typhus, and kills occasionally. It was pretty smart, but nothing particular, and has left me some debility and a great appetite. There are a good many ill at present, I suppose of the same. - 1 feel sorry for Horner, if there was any thing in the world to mike him like it ■ and still more sorry for his Ri ads, as there was much 10 make them regret him. I bad not heard of his deadi till by your letter. ■ Some weeks ago I wrote to you my acknowledgments of Walter S.'olt's article. Now I know it to be his, it can- not add to mv good opinion of him, but it adds to that of myself. He, 'and Gilford, and Moore are the only regulars 1 ever knew who had nothins of the garrison about their manner: no nonsense, nor affectations, look you ! As for ton rest whom I have known, there was always more or ess of the author about them— the pen peeping from be- laud the ear, and the thumbs a little inky or so. " Lalla Rookh'— you must recollect that in the way of title, the ' Giaour' has never been pronounced to this day ; and bolh it and Childe Harold sounded very facetious to the hlue-botdes of wit and hnniuur about town, till they were taught and startled into a proper deportment; and therefore Lalla Rookh, which is very orthodox and oriental, is as good a tide as need be, if not be'ter. I could wish rather that he had not called it 'a Persian Tide; firstly, because we have had Turkish Tales, and Hindoo Tales, and Assyrian Tales already ; and lot is a word of which i; repents me to have nicknamed poesy. ' Fable' would l„- better; and, secondly, 'Persian Talc' reminds one of the lines of Pope on Ambrose Phillips; though no one can sav, to be sur=, that this tale has been 'turned fir half-a- crown ;' still ii is as well to avoid such clashing. 'Persian Story'— why not ?— or Romance.' I feel as anviuus it Moore as I could do for myself, for die soul ol me, and 1 would not have him succeed otherwise Ulan splendidly, which I trust he will do. - With regard to the 'Witch Drama,' I sent all the three acts bv post, week after week, wuhin this last monlh. repeat thai I have nol an idea if ll is good or bad il must, on no account, be risked in publication; if good, it B at vour service. I value it at three hundred guineas, or Irs, if you like it. Perhaps, if published, die hes; way will l>e I., add it to your winter volume, and not publish sepa- rately. The price will show you I don't pi'pie myself upon it ; so speak tout. You may put it in die fire, if you like, and Unfe-d don't like. <• The Armenian Hi-mimar is published — that is, one; in? other is still in MS. My illness has prevented me from moving diis monlh past, and I have done nothing more with the Armenian. *( if liaian or rather Lombard manners, I could tell you ^ tittle or nothing: 1 went two or three times to the governor's Moor*, ronversazioue" (and if you «o .nice, you are free t« go j ll J v ' 1 *! Vways,) at which, an 1 only saw very jJain women, a formal circle, in short, a Wont sort of rout, I did not go agam 1 went to Academie and to Madame Aibrrzzi's, where I saw pretty much the same diing, with the addition of soma literati, who are the same blue," by , all the world over. I fell in love die first week with Madame * *, and I have continued so ever since, because she is very pretty and pleasuig, and talks Venetian, which amuses nic, and is naive. 1 have seen all their spectacles and sights; but I do not know any thing yen- worUiy of observation, except that the women kiss better than those of any other nation, w luch is notorious, and attributed to the worship of images, and the early habit of osculation induced thereby. "Very truly, &c. "P. S. Pray send die red tooth-powder by a safe hand. and speedily. 1 » To hook (he render, v °Ui J° h " Murray, Have uuhhshtd ' Anjou's MargaTel,' Which won'i be sold ofl in a hurry, (At least, ii hits nol ( em as yel l) And [hen, sliil fur ther lo bewilder 'em, Without remorse you set up ' IMeiim ;* So miud yon do n't get into debt, Because as how, if von should fn.l. These books would be bul baddish bail. ■' And mind yon do not lei escai* TbfM el,, n.rt to Morning Yo* or Terry, Which would be fry lre:icherous— voy. And eel me mln such a scrape ! For, firstly, I should huTC to sally, All in my linle boat, i;jhhi a Galley ;J And, should I chance to slny the Assyrian wight, Ban next to combat with the female knight, And, | rick'd lo death, expire upon her needle— A sort of end which I should lake indeed ill I "You may show these matters to Moore an J the select but not to the profane; and tell Moore, that I wonder he do n't write to one now and then." [ If bad, LETTER CCCXXVI. TO MK. MOORE. ■Venice, March 31, 1817. "You will begin to think my epistolary offerings (to whatever altar you please to devote them) rather prodigal. But until you answer I shall nol abate, because you deserve no better. 1 know you are well, because 1 hear of your voyaging to London and the environs, which I rejoice lo learn, because your note alarmed me by the purgation at _ phlebotomy therein prognosticated. I also hear of vour being in the press; all w Inch, niethinks, mighl have furrjtLcd you with subject matter for a middle-sized letter, consider- ing that I am in foreign parts, and lhat the last mondi's advertisements and obituary would be absulute news to me from vour Tramontane country. • 1 told you, in my last, 1 have had a smart fever. There is an epidemic in the place; but I suspect, from the symp- toms, thai mine was a fever of my own, and had nothing in common with the low, nilgai typhus, which is at this moment decimating Venice, and winch has half-unpeopled Milan, if the accounts be true. This malady has sorely discomfited my serving men, who want sadly lo be gone away, and get me lo remove. But, besides my natural perversity, 1 was seasoned in Turkey, by the continual w hispers of die plague, acainst apprehensions of contagion Besides which, apprehension would not prevent il: and Ihen I am sUll in love, and 'forty thousand' fevers should not make me stir before mv muiute, while under the in- fluence of lhat paramount delirium. Seriously speaking. in ihisiiis'.nncr,, which U I] ii s*' ,v, "e. » nC .i! the wntf fe h 'riii»'ic« ful'ow the sum f) ,|t. . iv I t-rn eO't" 1 Ml ■ o-d.e) Kjiiln.llK B'UlKir M l lid tin.. ■ ('-I -end the ChrMab-l." *ej I hi. letlcn to in -,eli.— Moori. no LETTERS, 1817. there is a malady rife in the city — a dangerous one, they Bay. However, nunc did Dot appear so, though it was not pleasant. "This is passion-week — and twilight — and all the world are at vespers. They have an eternal churching] as in all Catholic countries, but are not so bigoted as they seemed to be in Spain. ■ 1 do n't know whether to be glad or sorry that you are leaving Mayfield. Had 1 ever been at Newstead during your siay there, (except during the winter of 1813-14, when the roads were impracticable,) we should have been within had, and I should like to have made a giro uf the Peak with you. I know that country well, having been all over it when a boy. Was you ever in Dovedale? I can assure you there are things in Derbyshire as noble as Greece or Switzerland. But you had always a lingering after Lon- don, and I don't wonder at it. I liked it as well as any body, myself) now and then. u Will you remember me to Rogers? whom I presume t" be flourishing, and whom I regard as our poetical papa, "ion are his lawful son, and I the illegitimate. Has he begun yet upon Sheridan'? If you see our republican friend, Leigh Hunt, pray present my remembrances. I saw about nine months ago that he was in a row (like my friend Hobhouse,) with the Quarterly Reviewers. For my part I never could understand these quarrels of authors with critics and with one another. 'For God's sake, gentlemen, what do they mean T "What think you of your countryman, Matunn? I take some credit to myself fur having done my best to bring out Bertram; but I must say my colleagues were quite as ready and willing. Waller Scott, however, was theirs/ who mentioned him, which he did to me, with great com- mendation, in 1815; and it is to this casually, and two or three other accidents, that this very clever fellow owed his first and well-merited public success. What a chance is fame! "Did I tell you that I have translated two Epistles? — a correspondence between St. I 'aid and the Corinthians, not to be found in our version, but the Armenian — but which seems to me very orthodox, and I have done it into scrip- tural prose English.* "Ever, &c." LETTER CCCXXVIL TO MR. MURRAY. " Venice, April 2, 1917. * [ sent you the whole of the Drama at three several times, act by act, in separate covers. I hope that you have, or will receive, some or the whole of it. "So Love has a conscience.! By Diana! I shall make him take back the box, though it were Pandora's. The discovery of its intrinsic silver occurred on sending it to have the lid adapted to admit Marianna's portrait. Of course 1 had the box remitted in statu quo, and had the picture set in another, which suits it (the picture) very well. The defaulting box is not touched, hardly, and was not in the man's hands above an hour. " I am aware of what you say of Otway; and am a very great admirer of his, — all except of that maudlin b— h of chaste lewdness and blubbering curiosity, Belvidern, whom I utterly despise, abhor, and detest. But the story of Marino Faliem is different, and, I think, so much finer, that I wish Otway had taken it instead: the head conspiring against the body for refusal of redress fir a real injury, — jealousy, — treason, — with the more fixed and inveterate passions (mixed with policy,) of an old or elderly man — the Devil himself could not have a finer subject, and he is your only tragic dramatist. ***** "There is still, in the Doge's palace, the black veil painted over Falioro's picture, and the staircase wherein •See |>.399. t See Letter 316, W Mr. Murray. he was brat crowned Doge, and subsequently decapitated* This was the thing thai most struck my imagination in Venice— more than the Rialto, which I visited for the sake of Shy lock; and more, too, than Schiller's 'Armenian? a novel which took a great hold of me when a boy. It is also called the '(J host Seer,' and I never walked down St Mark's by moonlight without thinking of it, and 'at nm* o'clock he died!' — But I hate things aUJictwn; and there fore the Mercfamt and Qthdto have do great sssociationi to me: but Pierre has. There should always be soma f iiindatMii of fact for the most airy fabric, and pure inven- tion is but the talent of a bar. "Maturin's tragedy. — By your account of him last year to me, he seemed a bit of a coxcomb, personally. Pour fellow] to be sure, he had had a long seasoning of adversity which is not so hard to bear as t'other thing. I hope thai this won't throw him back into the Slough of I taenond. 1 *You talk of 'marriage: 1 — ever since my own funeral, the word makes me giddy, and throws me into a cold sweat. Pray, don't repeat it. " You should close with Madame de Stael. This will be her best work, and permanently historical ; it is father, the Revolution, and Buonaparte, &c. Bonstetten told me in Switzerland it was very great. I have not seen it myself, but the author often. She was very kind to mo at Copet. ***** "There have been two articles in the Venice papers, one a Review of Glcnarvon * * * *, and the other a Re- view of Chikle Harold, in which it proclaims me the most rebellious and contumacious admirer of Buonaparte now surviving in Europe. Both these articles are translations fiom the Literary Gazette of German Jena. ****** "Tell me that Walter Scott is better. I would not have him ill fur the world. I suppose it was by sympathy that I had my fever at the same lime. "I joy in the success of your Quarterly, but I must stir stick by the Edinburgh; Jeffrey has done so by me, I must say, through every thing, and this is more than I deserved from him. — I have more than once acknowledged to you by letter the 'Article' (and articles;) say that you have received the said letters, as I do not otherwise know what letters arrive. — Both Reviews came, but nothing more M.'s play and the extract not yet come. ****** "Write to say whether my Magician has arrived, with all his scenes, spells, &c. " Yours ever, &c. "It is useless to send to the Fareign-tiffiee : nothing arrives to me by that conveyance. I suppose some zealous clerk thinks it a tory duty to prevent it." LETTER CCCXXVHL TO Mn. ROGERS. "Venice, April 4, 1817. "It is a considerable time since I wrote to vou last, and I hardly know why I should trouble you now, except that 1 think you will not be sorry to hear from me now and then You and I were never correspondents, but always some thing better, which is, very good friends. "I saw your friend Sharp in Switzerland, or rather in the German toruory, (which is and is not Switzerland,) and he gave Hol.l m- and me a very good route for th* Bernese Alps ; however, we took another from a German and went by Clarens, the Dent dc Jamau to .Mont bo von and through Simmentbal to Thoun, and soon to Lauter- brounn; except that from thence to the Grindelwald instead of round about, WO went right over the Wengcr. Alps' very summit, and being close under the Jungfrau saw it, its glaciers, and heard the avalanches in all their glory, having famous weather there/or. We of course went * Sm Childe Htrold, Canto 1, 3ian:a 19. LETTERS, 1817. Ill from the Grindehvald over the Sheidech to Bnentz and its lake; past the Reichenbach and all that mountain road, which reminded me of Albania, and ,/Eiolia, and Greece, except that the people here were more civilized and ras- cally. I did not think so very much of Chamouni (except the source i if the Arveron, to which we went up to the teeth v.f the ice, so as to look into and touch the cavity, against the warning of the guides, only one of whom would go with \is so close,). as of the Jungfrau, and the Pissevache, and Simplon, which are quite out of all mortal competition. "I was at Milan about a monn, and saw Monti and some other living curiosities, and thence on to Verona, where I did not forget your story of the assassination during your sojourn there, and brought away with me some frag- ments of Juliet's tomb, and a lively recollection of the am- phitheatre. The Countess Goetz (the governor's wife hi re,) told me that there is still a ruined castle of the Montecchi between Verona and Vicenza. I have been at Venice since November, but shall proceed to Rome shortly. For rav deeds here, are they not written in my letters to the unreplying Thomas Moore? to him I refer you: he has received them all, and not answered one. " Will you remember me to Lord and Lady Holland? I have to thank the firmer for a book which I have not yet received, but expect to reperuse with great pleasure on my return, viz. the 2nd edition of Lope de Vega. I have heard of Moore's forthcoming poem: he cannot wish him- self more success than I wish and augur for him. I hav also heard great things of ' Tales of my Landlord, but I have not yet received them; by all accounts they beat even "Waver lev, &c. and are by the same author. Maturin's second tragedy has, it seems, failed, for which I should think any body would be sorry. My health was very victorious till within the last month, when I had a fever. Tin-re is a typhus in these parts, but I do n't think it was that. However, I got well without a physician or drugs " I forgot to tell you that, last autumn, I furnished Lewis with ' bread and salt' for some days at Diodati, in reward for which (besides his conversation,) he translated 'Goethe's Faust' to me by word of mouth, and I set him by the ears with Madame de Stael about the slave trade. I am indebted for many and kind courtesies to our Lady of Copet, and I now love her as much as I always did her works, of which I was and am a great admirer. "When are you to begin with Sheridan? what are you doing, and how do you do? "Ever very truly, &c." LETTER CCCXXIX. TO MR. MURRAY- ■ Venice, April 9, 1817. ■ Your letters of the 18th and 20th are arrived. In my own I have given you the rise, progress, decline, and fall of my recent malady. It is gone to the devil: I won't pav him so bad a compliment as to say it came from him: — he is too much of a gentleman. It was nothing but a slow fever, which quickened its pace towards the end of its journey. I had been bored with it some weeks — with nocturnal burnings and morning perspirations; but I am quite well again, which I attribute to having had neither n dtcine nor doctor therefor. "In a fow days I set off for Rome: such is my purpose. I shall change it very often before Monday next, but do you continue to direct and address to Venice, as heretofore. If I go, letters will be forwarded: I say '7/7 because I never know what I shall do till it is done; and as I mean most firmly to set out for Rome, it is not unlikely I may find myself at St. Petersburg. "You tell me to ' take care of myself;' — faith, and I will. I won't be posthumous yet, if I can help it. Notwith- standing, only think what a 'Life and Adventures,' while I am in full scandal, would be worth, together with the membra' of my writing-desk, the sixteen beginnings of poems never to be finished ! Do you think I would not have shot mvself last year, had I not luckily recollected that Mrs. Charlmont, and Lady Noel, and all the old women in England would have been delighted; — besides the agreeable 'Lunacy' of the 'Crowner's Quest,' and the regrets of two or three or half a dozen? ***** Be assured that I vxndrt live for two reasons, or more ; — there are one or two people whom I have to put out of the world, and as many into it, before I can 'depart in peace ;' if I do so before, I have not fulfilled my mission. Besides, when I turn thirty, I will turn devout; I feel a great voca- tion that way in Catholic churches, and when I hear the organ. " So * * is writing again ! Is there no bedlam in Scot- land? nor thumb-screw? nor gag? nor handcuff? I went upon my knees to him almost some years ago, to prevent him from publishing a political pamphlet, which would have given him a livelier idea of ' Habeas Corpus 1 than the world will derive from his present production upon that suspended subject, which will doubtless be followed by the suspension of other of his majesty's subjects. H I condole with Drurv-lane and rejoice with * *, — that is, in a modest way, — on the tragical end of the new tragedy. * You and Leigh Hunt have quarrelled then, it seems? * * * * i introduce him and his poem to you, in the hope that (malgre politics,) the union would be beneficial to both, and the end is eternal enmity; and yet I did (his with the best intentions: I introduce + * *, and * * * rvna away with your money: my friend Hobhouse quarrels, too, with the Quarterly: and (except the last,) I am the inno- cent Istmhus {damn the word! I can't spell it, though I have crossed that of Corinth a dozen times,) of these enmities. "I will tell you something about Chillon. — A Mr. De Due, ninety years old, a Swiss, had it read to him, and is pleased with it, — so mv sister writes. He said that he was with Rousseau at ChiUon, and that the description is per- fectly correct. But this is not all : I recollected something of the name and find the following passage in 'The Con- fessions,' vol. 3, page 247, liv. 8. fc 'De tous ces amusemens celui qui me plOt davantage fut une promenade autour du Lac, que je fis en bateau avec De Due pere, sa bru, ses deux JjIs, et ma Thert'se. Nous mimes sept jours a cette tournee par le plus beau temps du monde. J'en gardai le vif souvenir des sites qui m'avoient frappe a l'autre extremite du Lac, et dont je fis la description, quelques annees apres, dans la Nouvelle Heloisc.' "This nonagenarian, De Luc, must be one of the 'deux fils.' He is in England — infirm, but still in faculty. It is odd that he should have lived so long, and not wanting in oddness, that he should have made this voyage with Jean Jacques, and afterward, at such an interval, read a poem by an Englishman (who had made precisely the same circumnavigation,) upon the same scenery. "As for 'Manfred,' it is of no use sending proofs; nothing of that kind comes. I sent the whole at different times. The two first Acts are the best; the third so so; but I was blown with the first and second heats. You must call it a 'Poem,' for it is no Drama, and I do not choose to have it called by so * * a name — a ' Poem in Dialogue, 1 or Pan- tomime, if you will ; any tiling but a green-room synonyrae; and this is your motto— ' There ore more things in heaven and enrth, Horatio, Than are dreamt ol in your philosophy.' * Yours ever, &c ft My love and thanks to Mr. Ginord." LETTER CCCXXX. TO MR. MOORE. •Venice, April 11, 1817. " I shall continue to write to you while the fit is on mo, bv way of penance upon you for viur former cen* plaint* 112 LETTERS, 1*17. of Ion g silence. I dare sav you would blush, if you could, for not answering. Next week I set out for Rome. Having seeiiCopsianh!! iple, I should like to look at t'other fellow. Besulm I want to see the Poland shall take care to tell him that I vote for the I !athoUcs and no Veto. I sha'o't go to Naples, It b but the second best sea- view, and I have seen the first and third, viz. — Constan- tinople and Lisbon (by-the-way, the Last is but o nver- piew ; however, they reckou it af er Slaiuboul and Naples, and before Genoa,) and Vesuvius is silent, and I ban 08 sod by Etna. So I shall e'en return to Venice in July; and if .ou wrilej I pray you address lo Venice which is my head, or rather my fteart-quarters. " My late physician, Dr. Polidori, is here, on his way to England, with the (.resent Lord Guilford and the widow officiate earl. Doctor Polidori has, just now, no more patients, because las patients are no mure. He had lately three, whoare IIOW all dead — one embalmed. Horner and a child of Thomas Hope's are interred at Pisa and Home. Lord Guilford died of an inllammation of the bowels; so they took ihem out, and sent them (on account of their discrepancies,) separately from the carcass, to England. Conceive a man going one way and his intestines another, and his immortal soul a third! — was there ever such a dis- tribution? One certainly has a soul; but how it came to allow itself to be enclosed in a body is more than I can imagine. I only know if once mine gets out, I'll have a bit of a tustle before I let it get in again to that or any other. ■ And so poor dear Mr. Maturing second tragedy has been neglected by the discerning public. * * will be d — d glad of this, and d — d without being glad, if ever his own plays come upon 'any stage.' "I wrote to Rogers the other day, with a message for you. I hope that he flourishes. He is the Tilhonus of poetry — immortal already. You and I must wait for it. C I hear nothing — know nothing. You may easily sup- pose that the English do n't seek me, and I avoid them. To be sure, there are but a few or none here, save pas- sengers. Florence and Naples are their Margate and Ramsgate, and much the same sort of company too, by all accounts, which hurts us among the Italians. " I want to hear of Lalla Rookh — are you out ? Death and fiends! why don't you tell me where you are, what you are, and how you are ? I shall go to Bologna by Ferrara, instead of Mantua; because I would rather see the cell where they caged Tasso, and where he became mad and * *, than his own MSS. at Modena, or the Mantuan birthplace of that harmonious plagiary and mis- erable tiatterer, whose cursed hexameters were drilled into me at Harrow. I saw Verona and Vicenzaon my way h e — Padua too. I go alone — but a/our, because T mean to return here. I only want to see Rome. I have not the least curiosity ar**"* ice, though I must see it f )r the sake of the Venus, etc. otc. ; and I wish also lo see die Fall of Terni. 1 think to return to Vumee by Ravenna and Rimini of both of which 1 mean to take notes (or Leigh Hun', who wiD be glad to bear of the scenery of Ins Poem. There was a Jevil of S review of him in the Quarterly, a year ago, which be answered. All answers art imprudent; hut, to be jure, poetical flesh and blood must have the last word — that's certain. I thought, and think, very highly of his Poem, but I warned him of the row his favourite antique phraseology would bring him into. * You have taken a house at Hornsey ; I had much rather you had taken one in the A pennies. If you think of joining out f >r a summer, or so, tell me, that I may be upon .ho hover for you. " Ever, fee." LETTER CCCXXXI. to MR. M\>aa\y. « Venice, April 14, 1817. 'Iv the favour of Dr. Polidori, who is IjBTP «i his way to England, with the present Lord Guilford (the late sari having gone to England, by another road, accompanied bt his bowel in a irate coffer,) I rcn to you, to Mrs. Leigh, tun mmiabtret; but previous!) you will b*w the goodness to desire Mr. Love (as a peace-offering be tweefi him and me) to set them in plain gold, with in- UTOB complete, and ' Puiu'ed hv Prcpiani. — Venice, 1617,' on the back. 1 wish also that you would desire Holmes lo make a copy of escfl — that is, both — for mvseUJ an you will retain the said copies nil my return. One was done while 1 was very unwell; the other in my health, which mav account for their dissimilitude. I trust that they will reach their destination in safety. " I recommend the doctor to your good offices with your governrrJeni friends; and if von can be of any use to him in a literary point ofview, praj be SO, ■ To-day, or rather yesterday, for it is past midnight, I have been up to the battlements of the highest tower in Venire, and seen it and its view, in all the glory of a cleat Ttahan sky. 1 also went over the Manfruii Palace famous For its pictures. Among them, 1 1 1. re is a portrait of Ariostn hv 7'inan, surpassing all mv anticipation of the power uf painting or human expression: *' *s the poetry of portrait, and the portrait of poetry. Ttcre was also one of some learned lady, centuries old, whose name 1 forget, but whose features must always he remembered, I never saw greater beauty, or sweetness, or wisdom; — it is the kind of face to go mad for, because it cannot walk out of its frame. There is .ilso a famous dead Christ and live Apostles, for which Buonaparte offered in vain five thousand lotus ; and of which, though it is a capo d'opera of Titian, as I am no connoisseur, I say little, and thought less, except of one figure in it. There are ten thousand others, and some very fine Giorgiones among them, &C &c. There is an original Laura and Petrarch, very hideous both. Petrarch has not only the dress, hut the features and air of an old woman, and Laura looks by no means like a young one, or a pretty one. What struck me most in the general collection was the extreme resemblance of the style of the female faces in the mass of pictures, so many centuries or generations old, to those you see and meet every (lav among the existing Italians. The queen <*f Cyprus and Giorgione's wife,* particularly the latter, are Venetians us it were of yesterday; the same eyes and expression, and, to my mind, there is none finer. u You must recollect, however, that I know nothing of pointing; and that I detest it, unless it reminds me of something 1 have seen, or think it possible to see, for which reason I spit upon and abhor all the saints and subjects of one half the impostures I see in the churches and palaces , and when in Flanders, 1 never was so disgusted in my lite, as with Rubens and his eternal wives aid infernal glare of coiours, as they appeared to me; and in Spam I did uof think much ofMurtlo and Velasquez. Depend upon it, «>f all the arts, it is the most artificial and unnatural, and that by wtuch the nonsense of mankind is most imposed u|>on. 1 never yet saw the picture or the Statue which came a league within my conception or expectation ; hut I have seen many mountains, and seas, and rivers, and views, and two or three women, who went as far beyond i', — besides some horses ■ and a lion (at Veli Pach&s) in the Morea; and a tiger at supper in Exeter 'Change. u When you write, ron'inue to address to me at Venice, Where do you suppose the books you sent ineare? At Turin! This comes of the Foreign Qfftce^ which is foreign enough, God knows, for any good it can be of to me, or any one else, and be d— -d to it, to its last clerk and first char- latan, Castlereagh. " This makes my hundredth letter at least. » Yours, &c.» ' Sec Pq'i'O, StnoM Ifeh. LETTERS, 1811 113 LETTER CCCXXX1I. TO MR. MURRAY. a Venice, April 14, 1S17. "The present proofs* (of the whole) begins only at the 17th page; but as I had correciedand sent back the First Act, it does n'ti signify. "The Third Act is certainly d d bad, and, like the Archbishop of Grenada's homily (which savoured of the palsy,) has the dregs of my fever, during which it was Written. It must on no account he published in its present stale. I will try ani reform it, or re-write it altogether; but the impulse is gone, and 1 have no chance of makuig any thing out of it. I would not have it published as it is on any account. The speech of Manfred to the Sun is die only part of this act 1 thought good myself; the rest is certainly as bad as bad can be, and I wunder what the devil possessed me. * I am vrrv glad indeed that you sent me Mr. GifTord's without daiuction. Do you suppose me such a j< not to he very much obliged to him? or that in fact I was no', and am not, convinced and convicted in my noc of this same overt act of nonsense? " I shall try at it again: in the mean time lay it upon the shelf (the whole Drama, I mean:) but prav correct your copies of the First and Second Ad from the original MS. ■ i am not coming to England; but going to Rome in a few days. I return to Venice in June; so, pray, address ail letters, &c. to me here, as usual, that is, to Venice. Dr. i this day left Uiis city with Lord Guilford f »r Eng- land. He is charged with some books to your care (from ind two miniatures also to the same address, bot/i for my sister. * Recollect not to publish, upon pain of I know not what, until I have tried again at the Third Act. I am not sure that I shall? try, and still less that I shall succeed, if 1 do ; but I am very sure, that (as it is, it is unfit for publication or perusal ; and unless I can make it out to my own satis- fr taan, I won't have any part published. ■ 1 write in haste, and afier having lately written very often. u Yours, &c." other gallery (lha! is, in the Pitti Palace gallery:) the Parcae of Michael Angela, a picture; and the Antinous, the Alexander, and one or two not very decent groups in marble; the Genius of Death, a sleeping figure, &c.&c. " I also ft ent to the Medici chapel — fine frippery in great slabs of various expensive stones, to commemorate fifty rotten and forgotten carcasses. It is unfinished and will remain so. " The church of' Santa Croce 1 contains much illustrious tH>thing. The tomb-,* of Machiavclli, Michael Angelo,Gali ic«i Galilei, and Alfieri, make it the Westminster Abbey of Italy. I did not admin' out/ ofUiese tombs — beyond their contents. That of Alfieri is heavy, and all of them seem to me overloaded. What is necessary but a bust and name ? and perhaps a date ? the last for the unchronologi- cal, of whom I am one. But all your allegory and eulogy is infernal, and worse than the long wigs of English num- skulls upon Roman bodies in the statuary of the reigns of Charles II., William, ami Anne. " When you write, write to Venice, as usual ; I mean to return there in a fortnight. I shall not be England for a long time. This any moon 1 met Lord and Lady Jersey, and saw- them for some lime: all well ; children grown and healthy; she very pretty, but sunburnt; he very sick of travelling; bound for Paris. There are not many English on die move, and those who are, mostly homewards. I shall not return till business makes me, being much belter where I am in health, &c. &c. "For the sake of my personal comfort, I pray you send me immediately to Venice — mind, Venice — viz. J Voltes'* tooth-ponder, wc/, a quantity; calcined magnesia, of the best quality, a quantity ; and all this by safe, sure, and speedy means ; and, by the Lord ! do it. B I have done nothing at Manfred's Third Act. You must wait ; 1 '11 have at it in a week or two, or so. u Yours ever, &c * LETTER CCCXXXiV. TO MR. MURRAY. LETTER CCCXXXI1I. TO MR. MURRAY. ■FoUngo, April 26,1817. ■ I wrote to you the other day from Florence, inclosing a MS. entitled ' The Lament of Tasso.' It was written in i consequence of my having been lately at Ferrara. In the ! las) section of this MS. hut one (that b, die penultimate,) | I think that I have omitted a line in the copy sent you from Florence, viz. after the line — " And woo compassion to a blighted Dime, insert, *• Sealing ihe wnU-nce which my foes proclaim. The context will show you the sense, which is not clear in this quotation. Remember, I write this in the supposition ■ We received my Florentine packet. "At Florence I remained but a day, having a hurry for Rome, to which I am thus far advanced. However, I went to the two galleries, from which one returns drunk with beauty. The Venus is more for admiration than love : but there are sculpture and painting, which for the first time at all gave me an idea of what people mean by their aant, and what Mr. Brahain calls * entusimusy 1 (i. e. en- thusiasm,) about those two m>jst artificial of the arts. What struck me most were, the mistress of Raphael, a portrait ; dw mistress of Titian, a portrait; a Venus of Titian in (he Medici gallery — the Venus; Canova's Venus also, in the other gallery: Titian's mistress is ai o in the "Rome, May 5, 1817. [ By this post (or next at farthest) 1 send you in two other covers, the new Tlurd Act of 'Manfred.' 1 have re- written the greater part, and returned what is not altered in the proof xou sent me. The Abhot is become a good man, and die Spirits are brought in at the death. You will find, I think, some good poetry in this new act, here and there ; and if so, print it, without sending me farther proofs, under Mr. Giffortts correction, if he will have the goodness to overlook it. Address all answers to Venice) as usual ; I mean to return there in 'zn days. "'The Lament ofTasso, 1 which I sent from Florence, has, 1 tni«', arrived: I look upon it as a 'these be good rhymes,' as Pope's papa said to him when he was a boy. For the (tw— it and the Drama — you will disburse to me (tia. Kinnaird) six hundred guineas. You will perhaps be surprised that I set the same price upon this as upon the Drama ; but, besides that I look upon it as good, I won't take less than three hundred guineas for any thing. The two together will make you a larger publication than the ' Siege 1 and ' Parisina ;' so you may think yourself let off very easy: that is to say, if these poems are good for anv thing, which 1 hope and believe. K I have been some days in Rome the Wonderful. I am seeing sights, and have done nothing else, except the new Third Act for you. I have this morning seen a live Popo and a dead Cardinal: Pius VII. has been burying Cardi- nal Bracchi, whose body I saw in state at the Chiesa Nuova. Rome has delighted me beyond every thing since Athens and Constantinople. But 1 shall not remain long this visit. Address to Venice. "Ever, &c • Of Manfred. 15 ' Bm Childe Harold, Caalo 3, Slanta 5i. 114 LETTERS, 1817. "P. S. I have got my saddle-horses hen-, and have ridden, arid am riding, all about die country." LETTER CCCXXXV. TO MR. MURRAY. "Rome, May 9,1817. " Address all answers to Venice ; for there 1 shall re- turn m fifteen days, God willing. " I sent you from Florence ' The Lament of Tasso,' and from Rome the Third Ad of Manfred, both of which, I trust, will duly arrive. The terms of these two I mentioned in my last, and will repeat in this : it is three hundred for each, or sir hundred guineas for the two — that is, if you like, and they are good for any thing. "At last one of the parcels is arrived. In the notes to Childe Harold therejs a blunder of yours or mine : you talk of arrival at .S'(. Gi'ngo, and immediately after, add — 'on the height is the Chateau of Clarens.'* This is sad work: Clarcns is on the other side of the Lake, and it is quite im- possible that 1 should have so bungled. Look at the MS. ; and, at any rate, rectify. " The ' Tales of my Landlord' I have read with great pleasure, and perfectly understand now why my sister and aunt are so very positive in the very erroneous persuasion that they must have been written by me. If you knew me as well as they do, you would have fallen, perhaps, into the same mistake. Some day or other, I will explain to you w l vl — when I have time ; at present it does not much mat- ter ; but you must have thought this blunder of theirs very odd, and so did I, till 1 had read the book.— Croker's letter to you is a very great compliment ; I shall return it to you in my next. " I perceive you are publishing a life of Raffael d'Urbino : It may perhaps interest you to ..ear that a set of German artists here allow their hair to grow, and trim it into his fashion, thereby drinking the cummin ofthe disciples of the old philosopher; if they WOb.d CUI their hair, convert it into brushes, and paint like him, it would bo more ' German to the matter.' " I'll tell you a story : tho other day, a man here— an English— mistaking "the statues of Charlemagne and Constantine, which are. equestrian, for those of Peter and Paul, asked another which was Paul of these same horse- men?— to which the reply was— 'I thought, sir, diat St. Paul had never got on horseback since his accvlenl T "I'll tell you anodier: Henry Fox, writing to some one from Naples the other day, after an illness, adds—' and I am so changed diat my olikst creditors would hardly know me.' " I am delighted with Rome— as I would be with a band- box, that is, it is a fine thing to see, finer than Greece ; but I nave not been here long enough to affect it as a residence, and I must go back to Lombardy, because I am wretched at being an ay from Mariaima. I have been riding my Baddle-horses every day, and been to Albano, its Lakes, and to the top of the Alton Mount, and i" Frescati,Aricia, fee, fee. with an &c. &c. &c. about the city, and m the city:for all which— vide Guidebook. As a whole, ancient and modem, it beats Greece, Constantinople, everything —at least that I have ever seen. But I can't describe, because my first impressions are always strong and con- fused, and my memory selects and reduces them to order, like distance in die landscape, and blends them better, although they may bo less distinct. There must be a sense or two more than we have, us mortals ; for * * * * * where there is much to be grasped wo are always at a loss, and yet feel that we ought to have a higher and more extended comprehension. " I have had a letter from Moore, who is in some alarm about his Poem. I do n't soo why. " I have had another from my poor dear Augusta, whe is in a sad fuss about my late illness ; do, pray, tell her, (the truth,) thai I am Inner than ever, and in importunate health, growing (if not grown) large and ruddy, am gralulated by impertinent persons on my robustious appear- ance, when I ought to be pale and interesting. "You tell me that George Byron has got a son, ana Augusta says, a daughter; which is it?— it is D matter: the I'.ither is a good man, an excellent officer, and has married a very nice little woman, who will bring him more babes than income: honbeit she had a handsome dowry, and is a very charming girl ;— but he may as well get a ship. "I have no thoughts of coming among you yet awhile, so that I can fight off business. If 1 could but make a tole- rable sale ofNewstead, fherewould be no occasion fir my return; and I can assure you very sincerely, thai I am much happier (or.at least, have been so,) out of your island than in it. •Yoursever. P. S. There are few English here, hut several of my acquaintance; among others, the Marquis of Lansdowne, ithwhom I dine to-morrow. I met the Jerseys on the ruiil ;il l-'nllL'iio — all well. "Oh — I forgot — the Italians have printed Chillon, &c. a piracy, — a pretty little edition, prettier than yours — and published, as I (bund to my great astonishment on arn\ ing here ; and what is odd, is, that die English is quite correctly printed. Why they did it, or who did it, I know not ; but so it is;— I suppose, fur the English people. I will send you a copy." LETTER CCCXXXV1. TO MR. MOORE. 11 Rome, May 12,1817. " I have received your letter here, where I have taken a cruise lately; but I shall return back to Venice in a few days, so that if you write again, address there, as usual. I am not for retiir g to England so soon as you imagine; and by no means at all as a residence. If you cross the Alps in your projected expedition, you will find me some- where ui Lombardy, and very glad to see you. I inly :»r me a word or two beforehand, for I would really dit erge some leagues to meet you. "Of Rome I say nothing ; it is quite indescribable, and the Guidebook ls as good as any oilier. 1 dined yesterday with Lord Lansdowne, who is on his return. But there arc few English here at present: the winter is lAstr time I have been on horseback most of the day, all days since my arrival, and have taken it as 1 did Constantinople. But Rome is the elder sister, and the liner. I went some days ago to the top of the Alban Mount, which Ls superb. As for die Coliseum, I'anibeon, si. I'm ,\ the Vatican, Pala- tine, &c. &c— as I said, vide Guidebook. They are quite inconceivable, and must be seen. The ApoJIo Belridere is the inn-'' "I I ,ady Adelaide Forbes— 1 think I never saw such a likeness. "I have seen the Pope alive, and a cardinal dead, — both of whom lo iked very well indeed. The latter was ill state in the Chiesa No-na, previous to his interment. " Your poetical alarms are groundless; go on and pros- per. Here is Ilobhouse just come in, and my horses at dio door, so that I must mount and lake the field in the Campus Marlins, which, by-llu-way, is all built over by modern Rome. u Yours very and ever, &c. " P. S. Hobhouse presents his remembrances, and is eager, with all the world, for your new Poem." » Suk« eoractaj. LETTER CCCXXXVII. TO MR. MURRAY. •Venice, May 30, 1817. • 1 returned from Rome two days ago, and have received LETTERS, 1817. 115 your letter; but no sign not tidings of the parcel sent through Sir C. Stuart, winch you mention. After an in- terval of months, a packet of 'Tales,' &c. found me at Rome ; but this is all, and may be ail that ever will find me. The post seems to be the only sure conveyance and tliat onh/ fur letters. From Florence I sent you a poem on Tasso, and from Rome the new Third Act of 'Manfred, 1 and by Or. Polidon two portraits for my sister. I left Rome and made a rapid journey home. You will continue to direct here as usual. Mr. Hobhouseis gone to Naples: I should have run down there too for a week, but for the quantity of English whom I heard of there. I prefer hating them at a distance ; unless an earthquake, or a good real eruption of Vesuvius^ were ensured to reconcile me to their vicinity. ******* "The day before I left Rome I saw three robbers guil- lotined. The ceremony — including the masoned priests ; tin* half-naked executioners; the bandaged criminals; the black Christ and his banner, the scaffold; the soldiery; the slow procession, and the quick rattle and heavy fait of the axe; the splash of the blood, and the ghastliness of the exposed heads — is altogether more impressive than the vulgar and ungentlemanly dirty " new drop,' and dog-like agony of infliction upon tne sufferers of the English sen- tence. Two of these men behaved calmly enough, but the first of the three died with great terror and reluctance, What was very horrible, he would not lie down; then liis neck was too large for the aperture, and the priest was obliged to drown his exclamations by still louder exhorta- tions. The head was off before the eye could trace tht blow ; but from an attempt to draw back the head, notwith- standing it was held forward by the hair, the first head was cut off close to the ears: the other two were taken off more cleanly. It is better than tlie oriental way, and (I should think) than the axe of our ancestors. The pain seems little, and yet tne effect to the spectator, and the preparation to the criminal, is very striking and chilling. The first turned me quite hot and thirsty, and made me shake so that I could hardly hold the opera glass; (I was close, hut was determined to see, as one should see every thing, once with attention ;) the second and third, (which shows how dreadfully soon things grow indifferent,) I am ashamed to say, had no effect on me as a horror, though I would have saved them if I could. - "Yours, &c." LETTER CCCXXXVIII. TO MR. MURRAY. "Venice, June 4, 1817. *I have received the proofs of the 'Lament of Tasso, 1 which makes me hope that you have also received die ttii rrii«d Third Act of Manfred, from Rome, which I sent soon after mv arrival there. My date will apprize you of my return borne within these few days. For me, I have received none of vour packets, except, after long delay, the 'Tales of mv Landlord,' which I before acknowledged. I do not at all understand the why nots, but so it is;; — no Manuel, no letters, no tooth-powder, no extract from M • nrfa Italy roncerning Marino Faliero, no nothing — as a man hallooed out at one of Burdetfs elections, after a long ululatus of 'No Bastille! No governorities ! No — ' God knows who or what ; — but his ne plus ultra was ' No nothing!' — and my receipts of your packages amount to about his meanmg, I want the extract from JMoures Italy vrv much, and the tooth-powder, and the magf.esv some trickery, in a mask or visor,) fight Ins own battle instead of employing Molineuxashis champion; and, after the defeal of Torrismond, have made him span- the son of his enemy, by some revulsion of feeling, DOl incompatible with a cha- racter of extravagant and distempered emotions. But as it is, what with the Justi/.a, and the ridiculous conduct of tie- whole dram. pen, (for they are all as mad as Manuel, who surely must have had more interest with a corrupt bench than a distant relation and heir presumptive, some- what suspect of homicide,) I do not wonder at its failure. As a play, it is impracticable ; as a poem, no great things. Who was the 'Greek that grappled with glory naked !' the Olympic wrestlers? or Alexander the Great, when he ran stark round the tumb oft 'other fellow? or the Spartan who was lined by the Ephori f»r fighting without his armour? or who? And as to 'flaying off life like a garment,' helas! thai a in Tom Thumb — see king Arthur's soliloquy: * Life *■ R mere ru», nol worth n pruice'i wearing ; 1 Ml caul ilofl".' And the stage-directions — 'Staggers amon? the bodies;' ihe slain are too numerous, as well as the blackamoor knights-penitent being one too many: and Do Zelos is such a shabby Monmouth-street villain, witlt.nn any redeeming quality — St up mv vitals! Maturin seems to be declining into Nat. Lee. But let him try again ; he has talent, but not much taste. I 'gin to fear, or to hope, that Sotheby after a!! i- to !"■ the jEschylus of the age, unless Mr. Shiel be really worthy his success. The more I see of the staye, the less I would wish to have any thing to do with it ; as a proof of which, 1 hope yon have received the Third Act of Manfred, which will at least prove that I wish to steer very clear of the possibility of being put into scenery. I sent it from Rome. a I returned the proofof Tasso, I*v-the-wav, have vou n \ ■■ t received a translation of St. Paul, which I sent you, not lor publication, before I went to Koine? " I am at present on the Brenta. ( Opposite is a Spanish marquis, ninety years old ; next his casino is a Prench- nian's,— besides the natives; so that, as somebody said the * Minnie!. LETTER CCCXLI. TO MR, MURRAY. "La Mira, near Venice, June 17, 1817. "II pvps me great pleasure to hear of MooreY and the more so tliat I never doubted thai ii would be complete. Whatever good yoo can t- H me of him and hia poem will be most acceptable: 1 feel very anxious indeed to receive it. I hope that he is as happy in Ins fame and reward as I wish him to be ; for 1 know no one who de- serves both more — if any so much. "Now to business; ****** j sav unto you, verily, it is not so; or, as the foreigner said t" the after asking him to bring a glass of water, tu which the man answered, ' 1 will, sir,' — ' You u-ill! — CI— d d — n, — I sav, vou mushP And f will submit this to the decision <>t any person or persons t" be appointed by both, on a i'm examination of the circumstances ol this as compared with the preceding publications. So. there ^s 1r it, and have no thought of recommencing. * * * B I cannot well explain to you by letter what I conceive to be the origin ofMrs. Leigh's notion about 'Tales of Mv Landlord ;' but it is some points of the characters of Sir B. Manley and Burley, jus well as one or two of the jocular portions, on which ii is Riunded, probably a * If you have received Dr. I'ohdoru as well as a parrel of books, and yon can be of use to him, he so. I never was much more disgusted with any human production than with the eternal nonsense, and traeasseries, and emptiness, and ill humour, and vanit) of thai young person; but be has some talefll, and is a man d honour, and has dispositions of amendment, in which he has been aided by a little sub- sequent experience, and may turn out well. Therefore, use your government interest for him, for he is improved ami improvable. k Yours, iic." LETTER CCCXLIL Til MR. MURRAY. "La Mira, near Venice, June 18, 1817. "Efifeosed is a letter to Dr. Holland from Pindemonte. Not knowing die doctor's address, I am desired to inquire and perhaps, being a literary man, you will know or dis- cover his haunt near some [Mipulous churchyard. I have written to you a scolding letter — I behove, upon a misap- prehended passage in your letter — but nevermind: it will do for next time, and von anil surely deserve it. Talking of doctors reminds me once more to recommend to \.>n one who will not recommend himself, — the Doctor Polidon. If you can help him tu a publisher, do- or, if you have any LETTERS, 1817. 117 nek relation, I would advise his advice: all the patients he had in Italy are dead — Mr. * T 's son. Mr. Horner, and Lord Guildford, whom lie embowelled with great success at Pisa. * * * * " Remember me to Moore, whom I congratulate. How is Rogers? and what is become of Campbell and all t 'other follows of the Druid order? I got Maturm's Bed- lam at last, but no other parcel ; 1 am in fits fi>r the tooth- powder, and the magnesia. I want some <-f Eurkitts Sofia powders. Will you tell Mr. Kiimaird that I have written bun two letters on pressing business, (about Newstead, &C.1 i" which I humbly solicit his attendance. I am just returned from z gallop along the banks of the Brcn'a — line, sunset. * Yours, " B." LETTER CCCXLIII. TO MR. MURRAY. ft La Mira, near Venice, July I, 1817. ■Since my former letter, I have been working up my impressions into a Fourth Canto of Childe Harold, of winch 1 have roughened off" about rather belter than thirty stanzas, and mean to go on; and probably to make this Fytte 1 die concluding one of die poem, so that you may propose against the autumn to draw out the conscription f >r 1S18. You must provide moneys, as this new resump- tion bodefl voii certain disbursements. Somewhere about the end of September or October I propose to be under way, (i- 6. in the press;) but I have no idea yet of the probable length or calibre of the Canto, or what it will be good for; but I mean to be as mercenary as possible, an example (I do not mean of any individual in particular, and lead of all any person or persons of our mutual acquaint- ance,) which 1 should have followed in mv youth, and 1 might still have been a prosperous gentleman. "No tooth-powder, no letters, no recent tidings of vou. "Mr. Lewis is at Venice, and I am going up to stay a week with him there — as il is one of his enthusiasms also to like the city. " I »nxxl in Yenke on the ' Bridge of Sighs,' 4c. &c. u The ( Bridge of Sighs' (i. e. Pome de'i Sospiri.) is that wlm-li divides, or rather joins, the palace of the Doge to the prison of the state. It has two passages: the criminal went by the one to judgment, and returned by the other to death, being Strangled in a chamber adjoining, where there was a mechanical process for the purpose. u This is the tirst sianza of our new Canto: and now for a line of the second : " In Wp.ice, Tasso's echoes are no more, And ulr-iii rows the songlcss gondolier, Her palace*, 4c. &C. ■You know that formerly the gondoliers sung always, and Tassofa Gienisalemme was their ballad. Venice is built on seventy-two islands, 14 There! there's a brick of your new Babel! and now, sirrah ! what say you to the sample ? ■ Yours, &c. "P. S. I shall write again by-and-by."* of the like name a good deal in debt, pray dig him up, and tell him lhat 'a pound of his fair flesh' or the ducats are required, and thai 'if you deny them, tie upon your law!* "I hear nothing more from you about Mcore's poem, Roger?, or other literary- phenomena ; but to-morrow, being post-day, will bring perhaps some tidings. I write to vou with people talking Venetian all about, so that you must not expect this letter to be all English. u The other dav, I had a squabble on the highway as follows : 1 was riding pretty quickly from Dolo home about eight in the evening, when I passed a party of people ma hired carriage, one of whom, poking his head out of the window, began bawling to me in an inarticulate but insolent manner. I wheeled my horse round, and overtaking, stopped the coach, and said", ' Signor, have you any com- mands for me ?' He replied, impudently as to manner, ' No.' I then asked him what \k meant by that unseemly noise, to the discomfiture of the passers-by. He replied by some piece of impertinence, to which 1 answered by giving him a violent slap in the face. I then dismounted, (for this passed at the window, I being on horseback siil',) and opening the door, desired him to walk out, or I would give him another. But the first had setlled him except as to words, of which he poured forth a profusion in blasphe- mies, swearing that he would so to the police and avouch a battery sans provoca'ion. I said he lied, and was a * *, and, if he did not hold his tongue, should be dragged out and beaten anew. He then held his tongue. I of course told him my name and residence, and defied him to the death, if he were a gentleman, or not a gentleman, and had the inclination to be genteel in the way of combat. He went to the police, but there having been bystanders in the road, — particularly a soldier who had seen the business, — as well as my servant, notwithstanding the oaihs of the coachman and five insides besides the plain- tiff*, and a good deal of paving on all sides, his complaint was dismissed, he having been the aggressor ; — and I was subsequently informed that, had I not given him a blow, he might have been had into durance. "Soset down this, — 'that in Aleppo once 1 1 'beat a Ve- netian ;' but I assure you that he deserved if, for I am a quiet man, like Candide, though with somewhat of his for tune in being forced to forego my natural meekness every now and then. "Yours, &c. "B. u LETTER CCCXLV. TO MR. MURRAY. LETTER CCCXLIV. TO MR. MURRAY. " La Mira. near Venice, July 8, 1817. "If vou can convey (he enclosed letter to its address, or discover the person to whom it is directed, you will confer a favour upon the Venetian creditor of a deceased English- man. This epistle is a dun to his executor, for house-rent The name of the insolvent defunct is, or was, Porter Valter, according to the account of die plainti!^ which I rather suspect ought to be Waller Porter, according to our mode of collocation. If you are acquainted with any dead man "Venice, July 9,1817. K I have got the sketch and extracts from Lalla Rookh — which I humblv suspect will knock up * *, and show oung gentlemen that something more than having been across a camel's hump is necessary to write a good oriental tale. The plan, as well as the extracts 1 have seen, please ine very much indeed, and I feel impatient for the whole. ■With regard to the critique on l Manfred,' vou have been in such a devil of a hurry that you have only sent me die half: it breaks off" at page 294. Send me the rest ; and also page -70, where there is 'an account of ihe su|»- posed origin of this dreadful story,' — in which, bv-the-way, whatever it mav be, the conjecturer is out, and knows no- ihing of the matter. 1 had a better origin than he can devise or divine, for the soul of him. a You say nothing of Manfred's luck in the world ; and 1 care not. He is one of the best of my misbegotten, say what they will. ■1 got at last an extract, but no parrfis. They will come, I suppose, some time or other. I am come up to Venice for a dav or two to bathe, and am just going to take a swim in the Adriatic; so, good evening — the post waits. " Yours. &c "B. 118 LETTERS, 1817. • P. S. Pr.iy, was Manfred's speech to 1/ie Sun still turn !' Port « be, 1 su|)|X)sc— the only port he ever solicit retained in Ac! Third? I hope so: it was doe of (he best i or found, since I kure nim." in the thing and belter than the Colosseum. Ihave'douej ftfiy-sLx of Canto Fourth, Clutdc Harold ; so down with i your ducats." LETTER CCCXLVIl. TO MR. MURRAY. " La Mira, near Venice, July 15, 1817. LETTER CCCXLV1. TO MR. MOORE. "La Mira, Venice, July 10, 1817. ■Murray, die Mokanua of booksellers, has contrived to send me extracts from Lalla Rookh by die post. They are taken from some magazine, an. 1 contain a short outline and quotations from the first two Poems. 1 am very much delighted with what is before me, and very thirsty for the rest. You have caught the colours as if you had been in the rainbow, and die tone of die East is perfectly preserv- ed: so that * * * ami its author must be somewhat in the back -ground, and learn that it requires something more than to have been upon the haunch of a dromedary to com- pose a good oriental story. 1 am glad you have changed the title fr 'Persian Tale.' * " I suspect you have written a devilish fine composition, and 1 rejoice in it from my heart ; because ' the Douglas and the Percy both together arc confident against a world in arms.' I hope you won't be affronted at my looking on us as ' birds of a feather ;' though on whatever subject you had written, 1 should have been very happy in your success "There is a simile of an orange tree's 'flowers and fruits,' which 1 should have liked better, if I did not believ ll to he a reflection on ****** "Do you remember Thurlow's poem to Sam, *' IVIten Rogers ;' and that d — d supper of RanclinVs ibat ought to have been a dinner? 'Ah, Master Shallow, we havt neard the chimes at midnight.' — But " My !>oal is on the ihore, Act " This should have been written fifteen moons ago— th first stanza was. I am just come out from an hour's swim in the Adriatic ; and 1 write to you with a black-eyed Venetian girl before me, reading Boccacio. * " Last week I had a row on the road (I came up to Venice from my casino, a few miles on the Paduan road, this blessed day, to bathe) with a fellow in a carriage, who was impudent to my horse. 1 gave him a swinging bo* on the ear, wliich sent him to the police, who dismissed his complaint, and said, that if I had not thumped him, they would have trounced him fur being impertinent. Witnesses had seen the transaction. He first shouted, in an unseemly way, to frighten my palfrey. I wheeled round, rode up to the window, and asked him what he meant, lie grinned, and said some foolerv, which produced him an immediate slap in the face, to bis utter discomfiture. Much blasphemy ensued, and some menace, which I slopped bydisi inting and opening the carriage-door, and intimating an intention of mending the road with his immediate remains, ll he did not hold lus tongue. He held it. •The fellow went sneaklnglv In the police ; but a soldier, who had seen the matter, and thought me n^lit, went and counter-oathed him ; so that he had to retire — and cheap too : — I wish I had hit him harder. "Monk Lewis is here — 'how pleasant!'} lie is a very good fellow, and very much yours. So is Sam — so is every body — and, among the number, " Yours ever, ■ B. "P. S. What think you of Manfred? * * * "If ever you see* * *, ask him what he means by telling me, 'Oh, my friend, inueni portum? — What 'por- ■I have finished (thai is, written— the file comes after- ward) ninetv and eight stanzas of the Fourth Canto, which I mean to be the concluding one. Ii "ill probably be about the same length as the Third, being already of the dimen- sions of the first or second Cantos. I look upon pans of it as vcrv good, that is, if the three former are good, but this we shall see ; and at any rate, good or not, it is rather a different stvlc from the last — less metaphysical — which, at any rate, will be a variety. I sent you die shaft of the column as a specimen the other day, i. e. the first stanza. So vou may be dunking of its arrival towards autumn, whose winds will not be the only ones to be raised, if so In as howOuil it is ready by dial Hue-. ■I I. nt Lewis, who is at Venice (in or on the Canal- aceio, the Grand I 'anal,) your extracts from Lalla Rookh and Manuel, and, out of contradiction, it may be, he likes the last, and is not much taken with the first, of these perform- ances. Of Manuel 1 think, with the exception of a few capers, it is as heavy a nightmare as was ever Bestrode bj indigestion. "Of the extracts I can but judge as extracts, and I prefer the 'Pen' to the 'Silver Veil.' He seems not so much at home in his versification of die 'Silver Veil,' and a hide embarrassed with bis horrors; but the conception of Ulc character of the impostor is fine, and the plan of gr-:, for Ins genius,— and I doubt not that, as a whole, it will ba verv Arabesque and beaulilul. " Your laic cpislle is not the most abundant in inf >rma- tion, and has not vet been succeeded by any other ; so that I know nothing of your own concerns, or of any concerns, and as I never bear from any body but yourself who does not tell me something as disagree able as possible, I should not be sorry to hear from you: and as it is not very probable,— if I can, by any device or possible arrangement wnli regard to my personal affairs, so arrange it, — Uiat 1 shall return soon, or reside ever in England, all that you tell me will be all I shall know or inquire after, as to our beloved realm of Grub-street, and the black brethren and blue sisterhood of that extensive suburb of Babylon. Have you had no new babe of literature sprung up to replace the dead, the distant, tlie tired, and the retired ? no prose, no verse, no noOung /" * 9c* Po*in», p. e78. tSee Poem., p.48t. t An kUimwo tench as often occurs Ll these Iclleis) lo ail ifiectloU will, which he he>t occ emiiieit. LETTER CCCXLVIII. TO MR. MURRAY. •Venice, July 20, 1817. " I write to give you notice that I have completed tho fourth uduttmuac Canto of ChiMe Harold. It consists of 126 stanzas, and is consequently die longest of die four. It is yet to be copied and polished; and the notes are lo conic, of which it wall require more than die third Canto, as it necessarily treats more of works of art than of nature. It shall be sent towards autumn v— and now for our barter. What do you bid .' eh 1 you shall have samples, an' it so plea c sou: but I wish to know what I am to expect (as the saving is) in these bard times, when poetry does not let for hall us value. If you aie disposed to do what Mrs. Winifred Jenkins calls 'the handsome dung,' I may perhaps throw you some odd matters to the lot,— translations, or slight originals; there is no saving what may be on the anvil between this and the booking season. Recollect that it is the last Canto, and completes the work ; whether as good as die others, I cannot judge, in course— least of all as vut, but it shall bo as hide worse as I can help. I may LF.TT KRS, 1S!T. 119 erhaps, give some little gossip in the notes as to the pre- ent stale of Italian literati and literature, being acquainted with some of their capi — men as well as books; — but this depends upon my humour at the time. So, now, pro- nounce; 1 say nothing. " Whin you have got the whole^our Cantos, I think yon might venture on an edition of the whole poem in quarto, with spare copies of the last two for the purchasers of the old edition of the first two. There is a hint for you, worthy of the Row; and now, perpend — pronounce. * I have not received a word from you of the fate of Manfred' or 'Tasso,' which seems to me odd, whedicr they have failed or succeeded. " As this is a scrawl of business, and I have lately writ- ten at length and often on other subjects, I will only add Uui I am, &c. ! ' LETTER CCCXLIX. TO MH. MURRAY. a La Mira, near Venice, Aug. 7, 1817. • Your letter of the 18th, and, what will please you, as it .lid me, the parcel sent by the good-natured aid and abet- ment of Mr. Croker, are arrived. — Messrs. Lewis and use are here: the former in the same house, the latter a few hundred yards distant, " You say nothing of Manfred, from which its failure may be inferred; but 1 think it odd you should not say so at once. I know nothing, and hear absolutely nothing, of any body or any thing in England ; and there are no English papers, so that all you say will be news — of any person, or thing, or tilings. I am at present very anxious about New-stead, and sorry that Kinnaird is leaving England at this minute, diough I do not tell him so, and would rather he should have his pleasure, although it may not in Uiis instance tend to my profit. "If I understand rightly, you have paid into Morland's 1500 pounds : as Uic agreement in the paper is two thou- sand guineas, there will remain therefore sir hundred pounds, and not five hundred, the odd hundred being the extra to make up the specie. Six hundred and thirty pounds will bring it to the like for Manfred and Tasso, making a total of twelve hundred and thirty, I believe, fur I am not a good calculator. I do not wish to press you, but 1 tell you fairly that it will be a convenience to me to have it paid as soon as it can be made convenient to your- self. "The new and last Canto is 130 stanzas in length; and may be made more or less. I have fixed no price, even in idea, and have no notion of what it may be good fir. There are no metaphysics in it ; at least, I think not. Mr. Hobhouse has promised me a copy of Tasso's Will, for nob 8 ; and I have some curious things to say about Fer- rara, and Panama's story, and perhaps a farthing candle's worth of Imht upon the present state of Italian Literature. I shall hardly be ready by October; but that don't matter. I have afi to copy and correct, and the notes to write. u I do not know whether Scott will like it; but I have called htm the ' Ariosto of the North* in my text.* Ij he should not, nay so in time. "Lewis, Hobhouse, and I went the other day to the cir- cumcision of a sucking Shylock, I have seen three men's heads and a child's foreskin cutoff in Italy. The cere- are very moving, but too long for detail in this weather. "An Italian translation of 'Glenarvon'came lately to be printed at Venice. The censor (Sr. Petrotini) refused to sanction the publication till he had seen me on the subject. I told him that I did not recognise the slightest relation between that book and myself; but that, whatever opinions might be upon that subject, / would never prevent or oppose the publication of any book, in any language, on my own private account; and desired liim (against his inclination) to permit the poor translator to publish his labours. It if going forward in consequence. You may say this, witi my compliments, to the author. M Yours." LETTER CCCL. TO MR. MURRAY. "Venice, Aug. 12, 1817. 1 have been very sorry to hear of the death of Madame de Stael, not only because she had been very kind to me at Copet, but because now I can never requite her. In a general point of view, she will leave a great gap in society and literature. " With regard to death, I doubt that we have any right to pity the dead for their own sakes. " The copies of Manfred and Tasso are arrived, thanks to Mr. Croker*s cover. You have destroyed the whole effect and moral of the poem by omitting the last line of Manfred's speaking ; and why this was done, I know not. Why you persist in saying nothing of the thing itself I am equally at a loss to conjecture. If it is for fear of telling me something disagreeable, you are wrong ; because sooner or later I must know it, and I am not so new; nor so raw, nor so inexperienced, as not to be able to bear, not the mere paltry, petty disappointments of authorship, I ut things more serious, — at least, I hope so, and that what you may tliink irritability is merely mechanical, and only acts like galvanism on a dead body, or the muscular motion which survives sensation. " If it is that you are out of humour, because I wrote to you a sharp letter, recollect that it was partly from a mis- conception of your letter, and partly because you did a thing you had no right to do without consulting me. B I have, however, heard good of Manfred from two other quarters, and from men who would not be scrupulous in saying what they thought, or what was said ; and so 'good-morrow to you, good Master Lieutenant.' "I wrote to you twice about the 4th Canto, which you will answer at your pleasure. Mr. Hobhouse and I have come up for a day to the city ; Mr. Lew is is gone to Eng- land ; and I am * Yours " LETTER CCCLI. TO MR. MURRAY. "La Mira, near Venice, Aug. 21, 1817. tl I take you at your word about Mr. Hanson, and will feel obliged if you will go to him, and request Mr. Davies also to visit him by my desire, and repeat thai I trust that neither Mr. Ivinnaird's absence nor mine will prevent his taking all proper steps to accelerate and promote the sale of Newstead and Rochdale, upon which the whole of my future personal comfort depends. It is impossible for me to express how much any delays upon these points would inconvenience me ; and I do not know a greater obligation that can be conferred upon me than the pressing these things upon Hanson, and making him act according to my wishes. I wish you would speak out, at least to me, and tell me what you allude to by your cold way of mentioning him. All mysteries at such a distance are not merely tormenting but mischievous, and may be prejudicial to my interests; so pray expound, that I may consult with Mr. Kinnaird when he arrives ; and remember that I prefer the most disagreeable certainties to liints and inuendoes. The devil take every body ; I never can get any person to be explicit about any tiling or any body, and my whole life is passed in conjectures of what people mean: you all talk in the style of Caroline Lamb's novels. u It Is not Mr. St. John, but Mr. St. Aubyn. son of 3> John St. Aubyn. Polidm knows him, and introduced h 120 LETTERS, 1817. to me. He is of Oxford, and has got my parcel. The doctor will f'-rrui him out, or ought. The parcel contains many letters, some of Madame dc SiacTs, and otb / peo- ple's, besides MS3., &<■. By , if I find the genu* man, and he don't tind die parcel, I will say something he won't like to hear. " You want a ' civil and delicate declension' for the me- dical tragedy / Take ii — ' Dear Doctor, I have rent your ploy, Which is " good one In Its way ; Purges the eye* and move* the howcls, And dreiiclie* ha no kerchieft [ike m*eli W.tli tears, lhati in * Bui -.fgurf, Afford hysterical reiki To sbauer'd nerve* and quicken *d pulses. Which your caiastr iphe con* dses, " I [ike vinir moral and machinery ; Four plot) loo, has Mil h Kope for scenery I Your dialogue IS a|)1 Slid small , The play's coiicocuon full of art ; Your Iwra rare*, your heroine cries, All siah, nud every body dies. In ihort, your tragedy would be The very thing to be ir and sec : And lor a piece of uublicai ion , If I decline on Ulis occasion, It is not that I am not sensible To menu in themselves osteuaiMe, Bui — mid I grieve to speak il — plavs Are drugs — mere drug*, sir — no» - -a-days. I hud a heavy loss by ' Manuel,'— Too lucky if it prove not annual,— And Sotheby, with hi* ' Orestes,' (Which, by-ihe-by, the author's best is,) lias lain so very lotlg on hand That 1 despair of all demand. 1 've advertised, but see my honks, Or only watch my shopman's lonke ;— Still Ivan, Ina, and such lumber, My buck-shun glut, my shelves encumber. " There 's Byrou, too, whu once did better, Has sent mc, folded in a teller, A sort of— it "a no more a drama Than Damley, Ivan, or Kehania ; So alter'd since last year his pen i*, I think lie '• lost his wils at Venice. In short, sir, what with one and t' other, I dare noi Venture on another. I writs in h.i-i,.' ; excuse each blunder ; The coaches ihrough the street so thunder 1 My room '» so lull — we 've Gilford hero Reading M.S., with Hookham Krere Pronouncing on Uie nouns and panicles Of SOIIU Of our forthcoming Articles. " The Quarterly — Ah, sir, if yon Had but the genius to review I— A smart critique upon St. Helena, Or if you only would but tell id a Short, compass what bin, to resume : As 1 was saying, elr, the room — The room 's so full of wils and bards, Cr abbes, Campbells, < rokere, Fnifts, and Wards, And others, ueilher bards uor wits ,— My humble tenement admit* All persons in the dress of gent., FrOM Mr. Hammond to Dog I •• nt. " A party dines with ine lu-day, Allclcvei men, who make thuir way; They 're at this moment in discussion On poor De Siafil's late dissolution. Her bunk, they say, WAS In advance— Fray Heaveu, she tell Lite truth of France I " Thus nm our lime and tongue* away.— But, to return, sir. la your play : Sorry, sir, but I cannot deal, duets 'twere acted by O'Neill. My hands so full, my head ao Nun/, I 'in almost dead, and always di/.iy ; And so. with endless truih and hurry, I ». ,ii Doctor, 1 am yours, " JOHN MURRAY. *P. S. I've done the fourth and last Canto, which tjnouuLs to 133 stanzas. I desire you to name a price ; if you do u't, / will ; so I advise you in time. « Yours, &c • There will be a good many notes." LETTER CCCLTI. TO MR. MURRAY. "Sept. 4, 1817. Your letter of the 15th ha? conveyed with its contents the impress of a seal, to w hich the ; Saracen^ Head' is ;t seraph, .ami the ' Bill and Mouth 1 a delicate ileV*C6. 1 knew tha: calumny had sufficiently blackened me m -itar lays, but not thai it bad given the features as weU ta c - plexiun of a negro. Poor Augusta is not less, but rather rnop', shocked than ntvsi lf^ and say-, ' people seem io have losi their recollection strangely 1 when they engraved such blackainoor. 1 Pray don 1 ! seal (at least to me) with such ,t caricature of the human numskull altogether; and if you don'l break the seal-cutters head, ai least crack his libel (or likeness, if it should be a tikeuess) of mine. ".Mr. ECnuaird is not yet arrived, hut expected' He has lost by the way all the tooth-ponder, as a letter from &pa informs me. 11 By Mr. Rose I received safely, though tardily, magno- sia and tooth-powder, and * * * * . Whj do you semi mc such trash — worse than trash, the Sublime of Mediocrity? Thanks for LaOa, however, which is good; and thanks for die Edinburgh and Quarterly, both very amusing and well-written. Pans in 1815, Sec. — good. Modern Greece — omul for nothing; wrilienby some as who has never been there, and not being able to manage the Spenser stanza, has invented a thing of its own, consisting o( two elegiac stanzas, a heroic Inn-, and an Alexandrine, twisted on a string. Besides, why 1 modern/ You may say modern Grrekx, but surely Greece itself IS rather inure ancient than ever it was. — Now f >r business. "You offer 1500 guineas for the new Canto; 1 won't take it. 1 ask two thousand five hundred guineas for it, which you will either give or not, as you think prouer. It concludes the poem, and consists of 14-1 stanzas. The notes are numerous, and chiefly written by Mr. Hobhouse, whose researches have been uidefatigable, and who, I will venture to say, has more real knowledge of Rome and its environs than anv Bngfishntan who has been there since Gibbon. By-thc-wav, to prevent any mistakes, I think it necessary to state the fact that he, Mr. llobhonse, | ias no interest whatever in the price or profit to be derived from the copyright of either poem or notes directly or indirectly ; so thai you are not to suppose that it is by, for, or through him, that I require more for this Canto than the preceding. — No : but if Mr. Eustace was to have had two thousand for a Poem on Education ; if Mr. Moore is Io have three thousand for Lalla, &c. ; if Mr. Campbell is to have three thousand tor his prose on poetry — I do n't mean to dispa- rage these gentlemen in their labours — but I ask theaJbfi - said price for mine. You will tell me thai their productions are considerably longer: very true, and when they shorten thi'tu, I will lengthen mine, and ask less. You shall submit the MS. to Mr. Gifrord, and any other two gentlemen to in- named by you (Mr. Frere, or .Mr. ( *roker,or whomever you please, except such fellows as your * * s and * * s,) and if they pronounce Ihis Canto to be inferior as a whole to the preceding 1 will not appeal from their award, but burn the manuscript, and leave things as they ire. B Yours very truly. " P. S. In answer to a former letter, I sent you a short statement of what I though) the state of our present copy- right account, Viz. six hundred pounds still (or latelv) due On I'lnlde Harold, and six hundred glimaos, Maufreil and TasSOj making a total of twelve hundred and thirty pounds. If we agree about the new poem, 1 shall take ihe liberty to reserve the choice of the manner in which it should bepul>- lishud, viz. a ijuar'o, curtes." + * * * * Ilj Mrs. Bcmsnt. LETTERS, 1817. lil 1 LETTER CCCLIII. TO MR. HOI'PNER. w LaMira,Sept. 12, If 17. * I set out yesterday morning With the in'enUon of paying mv respects, and availing myself of your permissmr to walk over the premises.* On arriving at Padua, 1 found thai the march of the Austrian troops had engrossed so many horses, thai those 1 could procure were hardly able o crawl; and their weakness, together with the prospect of fading none at all at the post-house of Mouselice, and consequently either not arriving that day at Este, or so to be unable to return home the same evening, in- duced me to turn aside in a second visit to Arqua, instead of proceeding onwards; and even thus I hardly gut back in time. * Next week I shall be obliged to be in Venice to meet Lord Kinnaird and his brother, who are expected in a few d;ivs. And ibis interruption, together with that occasioned bv the continued march of the Austrian-; fir the next few days, will not allow me to fix anv precise period lor avail- in.; myself of your kindness, though 1 should wish to take lies! opportunity. Perhaps, if absent, you will have riii' ■_! i rtliK->s i,, permit one of ymr servants to show me the grounds and house, or as much of either as may be convenient; at any rate, I shall take the first occasion possible to go over, and regret very much that I was on yesterday prevented. "I have the honour to be your obliged, &c." LETTER CCCLIV. TO MR. MURRAY. "Sept. 15, 1817. * 1 enclose a sheet for correction, if ever you get to an- other edition. You will observe that the blunder in printing makes it appear as if the Chateau was over St. Gingo, instead of being on the opposite shore of the Lake, over Ciarens. So, separate the paragraphs, otherwise my topography will seem as inaccurate as your typography on this occasion. " The other day I wrote to convey my proposition with regard to the fourth and concluding Canto. I have gone river and extended it to one hundred and fifty stanzas, which is almost as long as the first two were originally, and longer by itself than any of the smaller poems except the ' Corsair.' Mr. Hobhouse has made some very valu- able and accurate notes, of considerable length, and you may be sure that I will do for the text all dial I can to finish with decency. I look upon Childe Harold as my best; and as I begun, I think of concluding with it. But I make no resolutions on that head, as I broke my former intention with regard to the ' Corsair.' However, I fear that I shall never do better ; and yet, not being thirty years of age, for some moons to come, one ought to be progres- sive, as far as intellect goes, fi>r many a good year. But I have had a devilish deal of tear and wear of mind and body in my time, besides having published too often and much already. God grant me some judgment to do what may be most fitting in that and every thing else, fur I doubt mv own exceedingly. "I have read ' Lalla Rookh,' but not with sufficient at- tention vet, for I ride about, and lounge, and ponder, and — two or three other things; so that my reading is very desultory, and not so attentive as it used to be. I am very glad to hear of its popularity, for Moore is a very noble Irllow in all respects, and will enjoy it without any of the bad feelings which success — good or evil — sonr times en- ganders in the men of rhyme. Of the Poem itself, I will tell you my opinion when I have mastered it: I say of the * A country -ho use on the Engines!) hilU, near E«te, which Mr. Hopp n^r, *ho «>i then the EngUra eoMiil-efuera] al Venice. I «\ for iome lime oecnyied, and which Lord Byron afterward rented ofhuu, uuin«»er resided ia it. _ _ Poem, for I do n\ like the prose at all, at all : and in tli« meantime, the 'Fire-worshippers 1 is Lite best, and tho Veiled Prophet' die worst, of the volume. "With regard to poetry in general,* I am convinced the more I think of ii, that he and all of us — Scott, Sou- they, Wordsworth, Moore, Campbell, I, — are all in the wrong, one as much as another ; that we are upon a wrong revolutionary poetical sys'em, or systems, not worth a damn in itself, and frjm which none but Rogers and Crabbe are free; and that the present and next generations will finally be of this opinion. 1 am the more confirmed in this by having lately gone over some of our classics, par- ticularly Pope, whom I tried in this way : — If took Moore's poems and my own and some others, and went over them ide by side with Pope's, and I was really astonished (I ought not to have been so) and mortified at the ineffable distance m point of sense, learning, effect, and even imagi- nation, passion, and invention, between the little Queen Anne's man, and us of the Lower Empire. Depend upon it, it is all Horace then, and Claudian now among us; and if I had to begin again, L would mould myself accordingly. Crabbe 's the man, but he has got a coarse and impracti- cable subject, and Rogers is retired upon half-pay, and has done enough, unless he were to do as he did formerly. 1 * LETTER CCCLV. TO MR. MURRAY. •Sept. 17, 1817 * Mr. Hobhouse purposes being in England in Novem- ber; he will bring the Fourth Canto with him, notes and all : the text contains one hundred and fifty stanzas, which is long for that measure. "With regard to the ' Ariosto of The North'f surely their themes, chivalry, war, and love, were as like as can be ; and as to the compliment, if you knew what the Italians think of Ariosto, you would not hesitate about that. But as to their ' measures,' you forget that Ariosto's is an oc- tave stanza, and Scott's any thing but a stanza. If you think Scott will dislike it, say so, and I will expunge. I do not call him the ' Scotch Ariosto,' which would be sad pro- vincial eulogy, but the ' Ariosto of the JVurfA,' meaning of all countries that are not the South. ***** a As I have recently troubled you rather frequently, I will conclude, repeating that I am " Yours ever. &.c." LETTER CCCLVI. TO .MR. MURRAY. "Oct. 12, 1817. 8 Mr. Kinnaird and his brother, Lord Kinnaird, have been here, and are now gone again. All your missives came, except the tooth-powder, of which I request farther supplies, at all convenient opportunities; as also of mag- nesia and soda-powders, both great luxuries here, and neither to be had good, or indeed hardly at all, of the natives. ****** " In Coleridge's Life I perceive an attack upon tJie then Committee of D. L. Theatre for acting Bertram, and an attack upon Maturin's Bertram for being acted. Con- sidering all things, this is not very grateful nor graceful • On this paragraph, in the MS. copy of the ahoTe letler, I find the following not*. In the handwriting nf Mr. tiiffinl : " There ii more good ■ense, nnd feeling, ami judgment in ihiipntingc, than in anj other I ore' read, nr lord Byron wrotr."— Moort. t See lettrn for How Lei and Blackwood. J See Letter 346. 122 LETTERS, 1P17. on ilif ■ pan of the worthy autobfographer ; and I would answer, if I had tint obliged him. Putting my own pains to forward the news of Coleridge out of the qui I know that there was every disposition, on the part of the Sub-Committee, to bring forward any production of his, wen- it feasible. The play he ottered, inmiji poetical, did not appdftT at all practicable, anil Bertram Hid ; — ami hence ihis long Uradc, which is the last chapter of Ins vagabond life. "As f>r Bertram, Matnrin may defend his own be- gotten, if he likes it well enough; I leave the Irish clergy- man and the new orator Henley to battle it out between them, satisfied to have done the best I could for both. I may say this to you, who know it. ****** * Mr. Coleridge may console himself with the fervour, — the almost religious fervour of his and Wordsworth's dis- ciples, as he calls it. U he means that as any pro>>f uf their merits, I will find him as much 'fervour' in behalf of Richard 1 if it hers ami Joanna S nidirofe as ever gathered over bis pages or round his fireside. * * * " Mj answer to your proposition about the Fourth Canto you will have received, and I await yours; — perhaps we may not agree. I have since written a Poem* (of 84 octave stanzas,) humorous, in or after the excellent manner of Mr. Whistlecraft (whom I take to be Frere,) on a Venetian anecdote which amused me: — but till I have your answer, I can say nothing more about it. "Mr. Hobhouse Hoes not return to England in Novem- ber, as he intended, but will winter here; and as he is to convey the poem, or poems, — for there may perhaps be more than the two mentioned (which, by-the-wav, I shall not perhaps include in the same publication or agreement) — 1 shall not be able to publish so soon as expected ; but I suppose there is no harm in the delay. " 1 have signed and sent your former eopyrigltis by Mr. Kinnaird, but not the receipt, because the money is not yet paid. Mr. Kinnaird has a power of attorney to sign for me, and will, when necessary. "Many thanks for the Edinburgh Review, which is very kind about Manfred, and defends its originality, which I did not know that any body had attacked. 1 never read, and do not know that I ever saw the ' Faustus of Marlow,' and had, and have, no dramatic works bv me in English, except the recent things you sent me; but I heard Mr. Lewis translate verbally some scenes of Goethe's Faust (which were, some good and some bad) last summer — which is all I know of the history of that magical person- age; and as to the germs of Manfred, they may be found in the Journal whirh I sent to Mrs, Leigh (part of which you saw) when I went over iirsi the Dent de Jaraan, and then the VVcngen or Wengeherg Alp and Sheideck, add made the giro of the Jungfrau, Shreckhorn. &c &c. shortly before I left Switzerland. 1 have the whole scene of Manfred before me as if it was but yesterday, and could point it out, spot by spot, torrent and all. "Of the Prometheus of JEschylns 1 was passionately fond as a boy (it was one of the Greek plays we read thrice a year at Harrow;) indeed that and the 'Medea* were the only ones, except the 'Seven before Thebes, which ever much pleased me. As to the 'Faustus oi Marlow,' I never read, never saw, nor heard of it — at least, thought of it, except that I think Mr. Giffbrd mentioned, in a note of his which you sent me, something about the catastrophe ; but not as having any thing 1o do with mine, which may or may not resemble it, fur any thing 1 know. "The Prometheus, if not exactly in my plan, has always been so much in mv head, that I can easily conceive its influence over all or anv thing that I have written; — but I deny Marlow and Ids progeny, and beg that you will do the same. " If you can -end me the paper tn question,* which the ii Ui-vicw mentions, oV The Review in the magazine you say was written by Wilson? it had all the air of being a poet&,and was a very good one. The Kdmburgh Review 1 take to be Jeffreys own by its friendliness. 1 wonder they though! it worth while to do so, so soon after the former; but it was eviden'lj with a ginnl motive. U I saw Hoppner the other day, whose count ry-hu use at Bate I have taken for two years, [f you come out next summer, let me know in time. Love toGiflord. u Yours ever truly. "Oalibe, Mnteulm, Hamilton, ond Chutilrcy, Arc uil partaken of my poolry. These two lines are omitted in your letter to the doctor after — " All ctercr n.cn who mnke their way." LETTER CCCLVII. TO MR. Wl'HKAV. " Venice, Oct. 23, 1817. " Your two letters are bef ire me, and our bargain is so far concluded. How sorry I am to hear that Gilford is unwell ! Pray tell me he is belter ; I hope it is nothing but o>ld. As you say his Illness originates in cold, I trust it will get no farther. "Mr. Whistlecraft has no greater admirer than myself: I have written a story in 89 stanzas, in imitation of him, called Beppo (the short name for Giuseppe, that is, the Joe of the Italian Joseph,) which I shall throw you into the balance of the Fourth Canto, to help you round to your money ; but you perhaps had better publish it anonymously: but this we will see to by-and-by. ■In the Notes to Canto Fourth, Mr. Hobhouse has pointed Out several errors of Gibbon. You may depend upon H.'s research and accuracy. You may print it in what shape you please. "With regard to a future large Edition, you may prim all, or any tiling, except 'English Hards, 1 to the republica- tion of which at no time will I consent. I would not reprint them on any consideration. I do n't think them good for much, even in point of poetry; and as to other things, you are to recollect that I save up the publication on account rjf the HoBandfj and I do not think thai any time or cir- cumstances can neutralize the suppression. Add to w hich, that, after being on terms with almost all the bards and critics of the day, it would be savage at any time, but worst of all nmOj to revive this foolish Lampoon. "The review of Manfred came very safely, and I am much pleased with it. It is odd that they should say (thai is, somebody in a magazine whom the Edinburgh contro- vert^) that it was taken from Marlows Faust, which I never read nor saw. An Ameriean, who came the other day from Germany, told Mr. Hobhouse that Manfred was taken from Goethe's Faust. The devil may take both the Faustinesjl rerman and English — 1 have taken neither. "Will you send to ffonson, and say that he has not written since 9ih September ? — at least 1 have had no letter since, to my great surprise. * Will you desue Messrs. Morland to send out whatever additional sums have or may he paid in credit immediately, and always, to their Venice correspondents? Ft is two months ag'> that they sent me out an additional credit for one thousand pounds. 1 was very glad of it, but I do n't know how the devil it came ; for I can only make out 500 • A |r vour Journal, being full of political allusions. Print alone, without name; alter nothing ; get a scholar to se<- that the Italian phrases are correctly published (your printing, by-the-way, always makes me ill with its eternal blunders, which are incessant,) and God speed you. Hen- house left Venice a fortnight a^o savuig iwo days. I has e heard nothing of or from him. " Yours, &c. "He has the whole of the MSS. ; so put up prayers in your back shop, or in the printers 'Chapel." 1 LETTER CCCLXI1I. TO MR. MURRAY. "Venire, Jan. 27,1818. "IVly father — that is, my Armenian father. Padre Pas- quali — in the name of all the other fathers of our Convent, sends you the enclosed, greeting. " Inasmuch as it has pleased the translators of the long- lost and lately-found portions of the text of EuMDHJf I [nit t">rth the enclosed prospectus, of whu h I Bend sit copies, vou are hereby briplored to obtain subscribers in the two Universities, and ;mnm; the learned, uihI Uie un- learned, who would unlearn their ignorance. — This thty (the Convent) request, J request] and do you request. h l semi you Beppo stum- weeks agone. You must pub- lish it alone; it has politics and ferocity, and won't do for your isthmus of a Journal. "Mr. Hobhouse, if die Alps have not broken his neck, is, or ought to be, swimming with my commentaries and his own coat of mail m Ins teeth and right hand, in a cork jacket, between Calais and Dover. "It is the height of the Carnival, and I am in the extreme and agonies of a new intrigue with I don't exactly know whom or what, except that she is insatiate of love, and won't take money, and has light hair and blue eyas, which are not common here, and that 1 met her at the Masque, and that when her mask is off, 1 am as wise as ever. I shall make what I can of die remainder of my youth." * LETTER CCCLXIV. TO MR. MOORE. u Venice. Feb. 2, 1818. "Your letter of Dec. 8, arrived but this day, by some delay, common but inexplicable. Your domestic calamity is very grievous, and 1 feel with you as much as 1 dare feel at all. Throughout life, your loss must be mv loss, and your gain my gain ; and, though my heart may ebb, there will alwavs he a drop fir you among die dre«.s.* "I know how to feel with you, because (selfishness being always the substratum of our damnable clav) I am quire wrapt up in my own children. Besides my little legiti* mate, I have made unto myself an lAegitanate since (lo say nothing of one before. )f and I look forward to one of these as Ihe pillar of my old age, supposing that 1 ever reach — which I hope I never shall — that desolating period. I have a great love for my little Ada, though perhaps she may torture me, like ***** * * * * "Your offered address will he as acceptable as vou can wish. I do n't much care what the wretches of the world think of me — all thai 's past But I care a good deal what you think of me, and so, say what you like. You foots thai I am not sullen; and, as to being sara^e, such thing-; depend on circumstances. However, as to bein<» in good humour in vour society, there is no great merit in that, •ecsmn it would he an effort, or an insanity, to be otherwise. u I do n't know what Murray may have been saying or quoting. I called Crabbe and Sam the fathers of presenl Poesy; and said, that 1 thought — except them — all of l us ymdti were on a wrong tack. But I never said that we did not sail well. Our fame will be hurt by admiration arid imitation. "When I say our, I mean ail (Lakecs included,) 1 Vide jour letter." \ Beppu u> Bdr.Moorcp. 184. I Sec Ptonu * Wfc i LETTERS, 1618. 125 except the po>ts«-ripl of the Atigustans. The next gene- ration (from the quantity and facility of imitation) will ttiinbk: and bre?k their necks ori' our Pegasus, who runs awav with us ; but we keep the scuUUe, because we broke the rascal and can ride. But though easy to mount, he is the devil to guide; and the next fellows must go back to the riding-school and the manege, and learn to ride the 'great horse.' "Talking of horses, by-the-way, I have transported my own, four in number, to the Lido (beach, in English,) a Strip of some ten miles along die Adriatic, a mile or two from the city; so that I not only get a row in my gondola, but a spanking gallop of some miles daily along a firm and ■olitarv beach, from the fortress to Mulainoeco. the which contributes considerably to my health and spirits. " I have hardlv had a wink of sleep diis week past. We are in the ag«nies of the Carnival's last days, and 1 must be up all night again, as well as to-morrow. I have had some curious masking adventures this Carnival, but, as they are not yet over, 1 shall not say on. I will work the mine of my youth to the last veins of the ore, and then — good night. I have lived, and am content. "Hobhouse went away before the Carnival began, so that he had little or no fun. Besides, it requires some time to be thoroughgoing with the Venetians; but of all this anon, in some other letter. * * * ***** I must dress for the evening. There is an opera and ridotta, and I know not what, besides balls; and bo, ever and ever yours, " B. " P. S. I send this without revision, so excuse errors. I delight in die fame and fortune of Lalla, and again congratu- late you on your well-merited success." LETTER CCCLXV. TO MR. MURRAV, "Venice, Feb. 20, 1818. *I have to thank Mr. Croker for the arrival, and you for the contents, of the parcel which came last week, much quicker than any before, owing to Mr. Croker's kind at- tention and the official exterior of the bags ; and all safe except much friction among the magnesia, of which only two bottles came entire; but it is all very well, and 1 am exceedingly obliged to you. " The books I have read, or rather am reading. Pray, who may be the Sexagenarian, whose gossip is very amus- ing? Many of his sketches I recognize, particularly Gif- fbrd, Macintosh, Drummond, Dutens, H. Walpole, Airs. Inehbaid. Uoie, &.c. with the SeotLs, Loughborough, and most of the divines and lawyers, besides a few shorter hints of auuiors, and a few lines about a certain i 7iubte autlwr^ characterized as malignant and sceptical, according to the good old story, l as it was in the beginning, is now, but not always shall be :' do you know such a person, Master Mur- ray? eh? — And pray, of the booksellers, which he you/ the dry, the dirty, the honest, the opulent, the finical, the splendid, or the coxcomb bookseller ? Stap my vitals, but the author grows scurrilous in his grand climacteric. " I remember to have seen Porson at Cambridge, in the hall of our CoHegej, and in private parties, but not frequently ; and I never cin recollect him except as drunk or brutal, and generally both : I mean in an evening, for in the hall, he dined at the Dean's table, and I at the Vicemaster's, *o that 1 was not n»?ar him; and he then and there ap- peared sober in his demeanour, nor did I ever hear of ex- cess or outrage on his part in public,— commons, college, or chapel ; but I have seen him in a private party of under- graduates, many of them freshmen and strangers, take up a [raker to one of them, and heard him use language as blackguard as his action. I have seen Sheridan drunk, too, with all the world: but his intojDcarion was that of Bacchus, and PuMuris dial ot Siituius* Of ail the disgust- ing brutes, sulky, abusive, and intolerable, Porson was the most bestial, as far as the few limes that I saw him went, which were only at William Bankes's (die Nubian dis- coverer's) rooms. I saw him once go away in a rage\ because nobody knew the name of the 'Cobbler of Messi- na, 1 insulting their ignorance with the most vulgar terms of reprobation. He was tolerated in this state among the young men for his talents, as the Turks think a madman inspired, and bear with him. He used to recite or radier vomit pages of all languages, and could hiccup Greek like a Helot ; and certainly Sparta never shocked her children with a grosser exhibition than this man's intoxication. * I j>erceive, in Uie book you sent me, a long account of him, which is very savage. I cannot judge, as I never saw him sober, except in hall or combination-room ; and then I was never near enough to hear, and hardly to see him. Of his drunken deportment, 1 can be sure, because I saw it. B With the Reviews, I have been much entertained. It requires to be as far from England as I am to relish a periodical paper properly: it is like soda-water in an Italian summer. But what cruel work you make with Lady Morgan ! You should recollect that she is a woman ; though to be sure, they are now and then very provoking ; still, as authoresses they can do no great harm ; and 1 think it is a pity so much good invective should have been laid out upon her, when there is such a tine field of us, Jacobin gentlemen, for you to work upon. It is, perhaps, as bitter a critique as ever was written, and enough to make sad work for Dr. Morgan, both as husband and apothecary ;— unless she should say, as Pope did of some attack upon him, ' That it is as good for her as a dose o( hartsliorn* " I heard from Moore lately, and was sorry to be made aware of his domestic loss. Thus it is — 'medio de fonte leporum' — in the acme of his fame and his happiness comes a drawback as usual. ****** "Mr. Hoppner, whom I saw this morning, has been made the father of a very fine boy.* — Mother and child doing very well indeed. By this time Hobhouse should be with you, and also certain packets, letters, &c. of mine, sent since his departure. I am not at all well in health within this last eight days. My remembrances to Gilford and all friends. " Yours, &c. a B. " P. S. In the course of a month or two, Hanson will have probably to send ofTa clerk with conveyances to sign (Newstead being sold in November last for ninety-four thousand live hundred pounds,) in which case I supplicate supplies of articles as usual, for which, desire Mr. Km- naird to settle from funds in their bank, and deduct from my account with him. "P. S. To-morrow night I am going to see { Otello,' an opera from our 'Othello,' and one of Rossini's best, it is said. It will be curious to see in Venice the Venetian story itself rcpresen'ed, besides to discover what they will make of Shakspeare in music." LETTER CCCLXVI. TO MR. HOPPNER. ■Venice, Feb. 28, 1818. B MV dear sir, "Our friend, it Conte M-, threw me into a cold sweat last night, by telling me of a menaced version of Manfrea * On the birth of this child, who was chmtem-H John William RiT.ro, Lord Byrou mote the fboi foll.iwine line., which are iii no other Rapes! remarkable thau th..t they were thought worthy sfbeinf metrically imua lale.l into no lew U>an ten diP"-renl Inogungps ; namely, I. re**, Latin, Italian, Aulno in the Venetian dialect.) UerOMD, FltQia, tywiilb, Illy riau, Hebrew, Armenian, and Samarium : — " His father's seme, his mother's grace In htm, I nope, u 111 slwayi fit to ; With (still lo keep liim In e.o,-l cose.) The health and appetite of Riuo." The ori«innl line*, with the rllfiVn nl rerflnn* uhnre menUonttl, »«» BiIqIw] in a iniall volume, tu the !fsiauuu > of P*dua — AJuvre. 126 I. ETTERS, 1918. (in Venetian, I hope, to complete the thing,) by Rome Italian, who had sent it to you fir correction, which ii the reason why I take the liberty of troubling you on the suIh ject. Ifvou have any means of communication with the man. would you permit me to convey to him the otfer of anv price he may obtain, or think to obtain, for his project, provided he will throw his translation into the tin-, and uromise not to undertake anv other of that or any other of my things: I will send him his money immediately on thus condition. "As 1 did not write to the Italians, nor for the Italians, nor of the Italians (except tnapoemnoJ vet published, where 1 have said all the good I know or do not know of them, and none of the harm,) I confess I wish that they would let me alone, and not drag me into their arena as one of the gladiators, in a silly contest which I neither understand nor have ever interfered with, having kept cleat of all their literary parties, both here and at Milan, ami elsewhere. — I came into Italy to feel the climate and be quiet, if possible. Mossi's translation I would have pre- vented if I had known it, or could have done so; and I (rust that I shall yet be in time to stop this new gentleman) of whom 1 heard yesterday for the first time. He will only hurt himself, and do no good to his party, for in party the whole thing originates. Our modes of thinking and writing are so unutterably different, that I can conceive no greater absurdity than attempting to make any approach between the English and Italian poetry of the present day. I like the people very much, and their literature very much, but 1 am not the least ambitious of being the subject of their discussions literary and personal, (which appear to be pretty much the same thing, as is the case in most coun- tries;) and if you can aid me in impeding this publication, you will add to much kindness already received from you by yours, "Ever and trulv, "Bykon. ft P. S. How is the son, and mamma? Well, I dare say.' 1 LETTER CCCLXVII. TO MR. ROGERS. "Venice, March 3, ISIS. *I have not, as you say, 'taken to wife the Adriatic.' I heard of Moore's loss from himself in a letter which was dt-layed upon the road three months. I was sincerely sorry for it, but in such cases what are words? ■ The villa you speak of is one at Este, which Mr. Hopn> ner (Consul-general here,) has transferred to me. I have taken it for two years as a place of Villeggiatura. The situation is very beautiful indeed, among the Eugancan bills, and the house very fair. The vines are luxuriant to a great degree, and all the fruits of the earth abundant. It is close to the old castle of the Estes, or Guelphs, and within a few miles of Arqua, which I have visited twice, and hope to visit often. "Last summer (except an excursion to Rome,) I passed upon the Hrenta. In Venice I winter, transporting my horses to the Lido, bordering the Adriatic, (where the Curl is,) so that I get a gallop of some miles daily along the strip of beach which reaches to Malamocco, when ui health; but within these few weeks I have been unwell. At pre- sent I am getting better. The Carnival was short, but a good one. X don't go out much, except during the time of masks ; but there are ono or two conversazioni, where I go regularly, just to keep up the system; as I hud letters to tli eir givers ; and they are particular on such points; and now and then, though very rarely, to the Governor's. "It is a very good place fir women. I like the dialect and their manner very much. There is a naiveti about them which is very wimmw, and the romance of the place is a mighty adjunct; the hci sangue is not, however, now among Uie dame or higher order-;; but all under i/uzzioU, or kerchiefs, (u while kind of veil which die lo,\er order* wear upon their heads;) — the t-csta zendale, or old national female costume, is no more. The env, however, is decay- ing daily, and docs not gain in population. However, I prefer it to any other in Italy; and here have I pitched my ^tari; and here do I purpose to reside for the remainder of my life, unless event , connected with business not to be transacted out of England compel me to return fbr that purpose; otherwise I have lew regrets, and ik> desarei to visit it again lor its own sake. I shall probably be obliged to do so, to sign papers for my affairs and a proxy fin the Whi and to see Mr. YYaite, for 1 can't find a a 1 dentist here, and every two or three years one ought to consult one. About seeing my children, 1 must take my chance. One I shall have sent here; and I shall bt happy to see the legitimate one when I iod pleases, which he perhaps will some day or other. As for my mathe- matical wife, 1 am as well without her. " > our acciituit of V'uir visit to Fonihill is very striking-* could you beg of /am for me a copy in MS. of the remaining 1\dcs/* I think I deserve them, as a strenuous and public admirer of the first one. I will return it when read, and make no ill use of the copy, if granted. Murray would send me out any thing safely. If ever I return to England) I should like very much to seethe author, with his per- mission. In the mean time, you could not oblige me m ire than by obtaining inc the perusal 1 request, in French or English, — all's one for that, though I prefer Italian tc either. I have a French copy of Vathek, which I bought at Lausanne. I can read French Willi i.'reat pleasure and facility, though I neither speak nor write it. Now Italian I can speak with some fluency, and write sufficiently for my purposes, but I do n't like their intxkrn prose at ail ; it is very heavy, and so different from Machiavelli. "They say Francis is Junius; — 1 think it looks like It. I remember meeting him at Earl Grey's at dinner. Has not he lately married a young woman; and was not he .Madame T alley rand's eouaoere tiervente in India years ago? " I read my death in the papers, winch was not true. I see they are marrying the remaining singleness of the royal family. They have brought out Fazio with great and deserved success at Covent-gardcn ; that \s a good sign. I tried, during the directory, to have it done at Ihury-lane, but was overruled. If you think of coming into Uiis country, you will let me know perhaps beforehand. I suppose Moore won't move. Rose is here. I saw him the oilier night at Madame Albrizzis ; he talks of returning in May My love to the Hollands. "Ever, &c. W P. S. They have been crucifying Othello into an Open, (Otvlin, by Rossini;) the music good, but lugubrious; bu* as for the words, all the real scenes with [ago cut out, and the greatest nonsense instead; the handkerchief turned into a billet-thux, and the first singer would not black his face, for some exquisite reasons assigned in the preface. Singing, dresses, and music, very good. 11 LETTER CCCLXVIII. TO MR. MOORE. "Venice, March 16.1818. * MV DEAR TOM, "Since my last, which I hope that you have received, I have had a letter from our friend Samuel. f He talks of Italy this summer — won't you come with him? I don't know whether you would Me our Italian way of life or not They are an odd people. The other day I was telling a girl, 'you must not come to-morrow, because Marguerita is coming at such a time,' — (they are both about five feet ten niches high, with great black eyes and fine fingers— fit to breed gladiators from — and I bad some difficulty to * A cwiiinuatiun of Vulhek, by Mr. B.cki'rd LETTERS, 1818. 127 prevent a baitle upon a rencontre once before,) — 'unless you promise t" h<- friends, and' — (be answer v># an inter motion, by a declaration of war against the other, whirl: she said would he a 'Guerre di Candia. 1 Is it not odd, that the lower order of Venetians should slill allude pro- verbially i" that famous contest, so glorious and so fatal to the Republic.' "Thev have sinjnilar expressions like all the Italians. For example, ' Viseere' — as we would say, 'my love,' or 'my heart, 1 as an expression of tenderness. Also, 'I would CO for vou in the midst of a hundred knives.'' — ^Mnzza hen* ive attachment] — bterallv, l I wish you well even to killing.' Then they say, (instead of our way, 'do you think I would do you so much harm P) 'do you think I woulJ assassinate you in such a manner ?' — ' Tempo per/ide] bad weather; 'Strade perfidej bad roads — with a thousand other allusions and metaphors, taken from the state o< society and habits in the middle ages. B I am not so sure about mazza, whether it don't mecn T7i/issa, i.e. a great deal, a ma&«, instead of the interpretation I have given it. But of the other phrases I am sure. "Three o'uY clock — I must 'to bed, to bed, to bed,' as mother Siddons (that tragical friend of the mathematical wife) says, * * * * * * ****** "Have you ever seen — I fbr^et what or whom — no matter. They tell me Lady Melbourne is very unwell. I shall be so sorry. She was mv greatest friend, of the feminine genders — when I say 'friend,' I mean not mistress, for that 's the antipodes. Tell me all about you and every body — how Sam is — how you like your neighbours, the Marquis and Marchesa, &c. &.c. "Ever, &c." LETTER CCCLXIX. TO MR. MURRAY. French,) two moons ago. Have you had the letter? — I shall send you another: — you must not neglect my Arme- nians. Tooth-powder, magnesia, tinciure of myrrh, tooth- brushes, diachylon piaster, Peruvian bark, are my personal demands. " S'lrahan, Tonson, Lin tot of the timet, Patron and publisher ol rhymes, For Ihee ihe bard up Ptnriua climbs, MyMunay. " To thee, with hope and terror dumb, The ..■■Hedged MS. author* tome ; Thou prir.Ust all — and seilesi some— My Murray. " Ujwii thy tahle'a baize so green The last new Quarterly is seen : But where a thy new Magazine, ' My Murray? " A1on» thy iprucesl book-shelves shine The works thou deemcot most divine— The ' Art of Cookery, 1 and mine, My Murray. "Tours, Travels, Essays, too, I wist, And Sermons U> ihj mill bring grist ; And then thou hast the ' Navy List,' My Murray. *' And Heaven forbid I should conclude Without the ' Board of Longitude,' Although this narrow paper would, My Murray !" LETTER CCCLXXI. TO MR. MURRAY. "Venice, March 25, 181 S. "I have your letter, with the account af'Beppo,' tor which I sent you four new stanzas a fortnight ago, in case you print, or reprint. ******** "Croker's is a good guess ; but the style is not English, it is Italian; — Serni is the original of all. Whisdecraft was my immediate model; Rose's ' Animali' I never saw till a few days ago, — they are excellent. But (as I said above,) Berni is the father of that kind of writing which 1 think suits our language, too, very well ; — we shall see by the experiment. If it does, I shall send you a volume in a year or two, for I know the Italian way of life well, and in time may know it yet better; and as for the verse and the passion^ I have them still in tolerable vigour. " If you think tha. it will do you and the work, or works, any good, you may put my name to it ; but Jirst crmmttt Ulc knmvins ones. It will, at any rate, show them that I can write cheerfully, and repel the charge of monotony and mannerism. " Yours, &c." LETTER CCCLXX. TO MR. MURRAY. "Venice, April 11, 1818. ■ Will you semi me by letter, packet, or parcel, half a dozen of the coloured prints from Holmes's miniature, (the latter done shortly before I left your country, and the prints about a year ago ;) I shall be obliged to you, as some pe. pie here have asked me for the like. It is a picture uf my upright self", done for Scrope B. Danes, Esq. ****** " Why have you not sent me an answer, and lists of Fuh*cribers to the translation of the Armenian Eusthtus? of which I sent you pruned copies of the prospectus (in "Venice, April 12, 1818. "This letter will be delivered by Signor Gioe. Bata. Missiaglia, proprietor of the Apollo library, and the prin- cipal publisher and bookseller now in Venice. He sets out for London with a view to business and correspondence with the English booksellers: and it is in the hope that it may be for your mutual advantage that I furnish him with this letter of introduction to you. If you can be of use to him, either by recommendation to others, or by any per- sonal attention on your own part, you will oblige him, and gratify me. You may also perhaps both be able to derive advantage, or establish some mode of literary communica- tion, pleasing to the public, and beneficial to one another. "At any rate, be civil to him for my sake, as well as for the honour and glory of publishers and authors now and to onme for evermore. " With him I also consign a great number of MS. letters written in English, French, and Italian, by various English established in Italy during the last century : — tie names of the writers, Lord Hervey, Lady M. W. Montague, (hers are but few — some billets-doux in French to Algarotti, and one letter in English, Italian, and all sorts of jargon, to the same,) Gray, the poet, (one letter,) IVIason, (two or three,) Garrick, Lord Chatham, David Hume, and many of less note, — all addressed to Count Algarotti. Out of these, I think, with discretion, an amusing miscellaneous volume of letters might be extracted, provided some good editor were deposed to undertake the selection, and preface, and a few notes, &c. "The proprietor of these is a friend of mine, Dr. Aglietix^ — a great name in Italy, — and if you are disposed to pub- lish, it will be for his benefit, suul it is to and for him that you will name a price, if you take upon you the work. I would edit it myself, but am too far orT, and too lazy to undertake it ; but I wish that it could be done. The letters of Lord Hervey, in Mr. Rose's opinion and mine, are L'ood; and the sfiort French love-letters certainly are Lady M.W.Montague's — the French not good, but the senti- ments beautiful. Gray's letter good; and Mason's tolera- ble. The whole correspondence must be well weeded; but tins bans done, a small and pretty popular volume might be made of it. — There are many ministers' leu ore— Gray 12S LETTERS, 1818. the ambassador at Naples, Horace Mann, and others of the same kind of animal. "I thought of a preface di fending Lord Hervey againsl Popefa attack, bui Pope — juoad Popej the poet — against all the world, in the unjustifiable attempts begun by War- ten, and carried on at this day by the new school of critics and scribblers, who think themselves poets because tbc f do not write like Pope. I have no patience with such cursed humbug and had taste ; your whole generation are not worth a Canto of the Rape of the Lock, or the Essay on Mm, nr the J_)nnciad, or ' any thin;; thai La his.' — But it is three in the matin, and I must go to bed. * Yours alwav, $ic. n LETTER CCCLXXIL TO MR. MURRAV. "Venice, April 17, 1818. * A few davs ago, I wrote to you a letter requesting you to desire Hanson to desire his messrnger to come on from Geneva to Venice, because I won't go from Venice to Geneva; and if this is nut done, the messenger may be damnej, with hun who mis-sent him. Pray reiterate my request. H With the proofs returned, 1 sent two additional stanzas for Canto Fourth : did they arrive ? u Your monthly reviewer has made a mistake: Cavalicrc alone is well enough ; * Cavalier 1 serventc 1 has always the e mute in conversation, and omitted in writing; so that it is not for the sake of metre ; and pray let Griffiths know this, with my compliments. I humblv conjecture that I know as much of Italian society and language as any of his peo- ple ; but to make assurance doubly sure, I asked, at (he Countess Benzona's, last night, the question of more than one person in tfwt/fice; and of these 'eavarfieri semnti' (in the plural, recollect,) I found that they all accorded m pro- nouncing for 'cavalier serventc' in the sinqutar number. I wish Mr. * * * * (or whoever Griffith's scribbler mav he) would not talk of what he do n't understand. Such fellows are not fit to be intrusted with Italian, even in a quotation. * * * * * * "Did you receive two additional stanzas, to be inserted towards the close of Canto Fourth? Respond, that (if not) they may be sent. "Tell Mr. * + and Mr. Hanson, that they may as well expect Geneva to come to me, as that [ should go to Ge- neva. The messenger may go or return, as he pleases ; I won't stir: and I look upon if as a piece of singular absurdity in those who know me, imagining that I should — not to say malice, in attempting unnecessary torture. If, on the occa- sion, my interests should suffer, it is tficir neglect that is to blame ; and they may all be d d together * It is ten o'clock, and tamo to dress. " Yours, &c." LETTER CCCLXXUL TO MR. MURRAY. % "April 23, 1818. *The time is past in which I could feel for the dead, — or I should feel for the death of Lady Melbourne, the best, and kindest, and ablest female I ever knew, old or young, But ' I have supped full of horrors;' and events of this kind have only a kind of numbness worse than pain, like a vio- lent blow on the elbow or the head. There is une link less between England and myself "Now to business. I presented you with Beppo, as part of the contract for Canto Fourth,— considering the price you are to pay for the same, and intending to eke you out in case of public caprice or my own poetical failure. If you choose to suppress it entirely, at Mr. * * * *'s sug- gestion, you may do as yon please. But recoiled it i* not to be published in a garbled or mutilated state. 1 reserve to in, friends and myseifthe right of correcting (hi — if ihe publication continue, it is to continue m its pn sent form. ****** "As Mr. * * savs that he did noi write this letter, &c. I am n ad} to believe him; but. for the firmness of mj for- mer persuasion) I refer to Mr. + * * *, who can inform you how sincerely 1 erred on inn point. Hi tuu B note — or, at least, had it, for I gave it to lum with m\ verbal comments thereupon. As to 'Beppo, 1 1 will not alter or suppress a svllable Eur any man's pleasure hut mv own. "You may tell them una; and add, that nothing but force ornecessi'v shall stir me one step towards the places to which they would wring me. ****** ■If your literary matters prosper, lei me know. If ' Beppo' pleases, you shall have more ui a v< V or iwo in the same mood. And SO) 'Good morrow to you, good Master Lieutenant, 1 u Sours, Hie." LETTER CCCLXXIV. TO MR. MOORE. " Palazzo Mocenigo, Canal Grande, "Venice, June 1, 1818. "Your letter is almost the only news, as yet, of Canto 4th, and it has by no means settled its fato, — at least, does not tell me how the 'Pocshie 1 has been received by me public. But I suspect, no great things, — firstly, from Mur- ray's ' horrid stillness ;' secondly] from what you say about the stanzas running into each other,* which I take not to be your*, but a notion you have binned with amoiii' die Blues. The fact is, that the terza rimaofthe Italians, which always run* on and in, may have led me into expe- riments, and carelessness into conceit— or conceit into care- lessness— -in either of which events failure will he probable and my fair woman, ' superrte,' end in a fish ; so that Childe Harold will he like the mermaid, my family crest, with the Fourth Canto for a tail thereunto. I won't quarrel with the public, however, for the 'Bulgars 1 are generally right; and if I miss now, I may hit another lime: — and so 'the gods give us joy.' u You like Beppo; that's right. + + * * j have not hail the Fudges yet, hut live m hopes. I need DO) say that your successes are mine. By-lhe-wav, Lytha White is here, and has just borrowed mv copy of 'Lalla Rookli. * + * * + * "Hunt's letter is probably the exact piece of vulgar cot- conihry you might expect from Ins situation. He is a good man, null some po< tual i-lt-mrnts in his chaos ; but spnilod by the Christ-Church Hospital and a Sunday newspaper, — to say nothing of the Surry Jail, which conceited him into a martvr. But he is a good man. When I saw ' Rimini' in MSS , I told lum that I deemed it good poetry at bottom, disfigured only by a Hrangf Style. His answer was, that his style «as a system, or upon xy*tnn y or some Such cant ; anl, when I man talks of svstem, his case is hopeless: so I said no more to him, and very little to any OIH- f'U<:\ "He believes his trash of vulgar phrases tortured into compound barbarisms to be r>UI English ; and wo may say of it as Aim.vell says of Captain ( rtbbetfa regiment, when the ('apt am calls it an 'old corps,' — ' the oldest in Europe ifl may judge by your uniform. 1 He sent out his ' Foliage by Percy Shelley, and, of all the ineffable Centaurs that were aver begotten by Self-love upon a Night man 1 , 1 think this monstrous Sagittary the most prodigious. Jh (Leigh H.)is an honest Charlatan, who has persuaded himself * Mr. Moore hud «ui■**. She was besides a thorough Vene- tian in her dialect, in her thoughts, in her countenance, in every thing, with all their nalvet and pantaloon humour. Besides, she could neither read nor write, and could not plague me with letters, — except twice that she paid six- pence to a public scribe, under the piazza, to make a letter for her, upon some occasion when I was ill and could not see her. In other respects, she was somewhat fierce and ' prepotent e.' that is overbearing, and used to walk in when- ever it suited her, with no very great regard to time, place, nor persons ; and if she found any women in her way, she knocked them down. u When I first knew her, I was in 'relatione' (liaison) with la Signora * *, who was silly enough one evening at Dolo, accompanied by some of her female friends, to threaten her; for the gossips of the Vilh'ggiatura had already found out, by the neighing of my horse one evening, that I used to 'ride late in the night' to meet the Foniarina. Margarita threw back her veil (fazzioto,) and replied in very explicit Venetian: l You are not his wife : /am not his wife: you are his Donna, and / am his Donna: your husband is a 6ecco, and mine is another. For the rest, what right have you to reproach me ? If he prefers me to you, is it my fault ? If you wish to secure him, tie him to your petticoat- string. But do not think to speak to me without a reply, because you happen to be richer than I am.' Having de- livered this pretty piece of eloquence (which I translate as it was translated to me by a bystander,) she went on, her way, leaving a numerous audience, with Madame + * to ponder at her leisure on the dialogue between them. " When I came to Venice for the winter she followed ; and as she f iund herself out to be a favourite, she came to me pretty often. But she had inordinate self-love, and was not tolerant of other women. At the 'Cavalchina,' the masked ball on the last night of the Carnival, where aU the world goes, she snatched off the mask of Madame C'on- tarini, a lady noble by birth, and decent in conduct, for no other reason but because she happened to be leaning on my arm. You may suppose what a cursed noise this made , but this is only one of her pranks. a At last she quarrelled with her husband, and one even ing ran away to my house. I told her this would not do she said she would lie in the street, but not go back to him , that he beat her, (the gentle ogress !) spent her money, and scandalously neglected her. As it was midnight, I let her stay, and next day there was no moving her at all. Her husband came roaring and crying, and entreating her to come back — not she ! He then applied lo the police, and they applied to me : I told them and ht.r husband to take her; I did not want her; she had come, and I could not fling hor out of the window ; but they mi^ht conduct her 130 L BTTEB8, 1819. tlif igh thai or the door if they chose it. She went before the cutnmissary, but was obliged lo return with that ' becco eltieo,' as slie called the poor man, who had a phthisic. In a fen days she rai) awt/ pgain. After a precious piece of work, she fixed herself in my house, really and truly without my consent; but, owing to my indoli n< e, and no) being able to keep my countenance — for if I began in a rag( , she always finished by making me laugh with some \ enetian pantaloonery or another; and die gipsy knew* t'ns well enough, asweQ a- her other powers of persuasion, and exerted them with the usual tact and success of all ■he-things ;— high and low, they are all alike H>r that. 'Madame Bcnzoni aho took her under tier protection, and then her head turned. She was always in extremes, either crying or laughing, and so fierce when angered, thai she was the terror of men, women, and children — for she had the strength of an Amazon, with the temper of Medea. She was a tine animal, but quite untameahle. / was the only person that could at all keep her in any order, ami when she saw me really angry (which they till me is a savagt Bight,) she subsided. But she had a thousand I oieries. In her faz/.iolo, the dress of the lower orders, she looked beautiful; but, alas! she longed for a hat and feathers; and all I could say or do (and I said much) could n"t prevent this travestie. I put the first into the lire ; but I got tired of burning them before she did of buy- ing them, so that she made herself a figure — for they did not at all become her. "Then she would have her gowns with a tail — like a lady, forsooth ; nothing would serve her but M'abita eolla ceuo,' or cua (that is the Venetian for ( !a cola, 1 the tail or tram,) and as her cursed pronunciation of die word made me laugh, there was an end of all controversy, and she dragged this diabolical tail after her every where. " In the mean time, she beat the women and stopped mv Inters. I found her one day pondering over one. She used to try to find out by their shape whether they wire f ii in line or no; and she used 10 lament her ignorance, and actually studied her alphabet, on purpose (as she declared) to open all letters addressed to me, and read their contents. " I must not omit to do justice to her housekeeping quali- ties. After she came into my house as ' donna di governo, 1 the expenses were reduced to less than half, and every body did their duty better — the apartments were kepi in order, and every thing and every body else, except herself. tt That she had a sufficient regard for me in her wild way, I bad many reasons to believe. I will mention one. In the autumn, one dav going to the Lido with my gon- doliers, we were overtaken by a heavy squall, ami the gondola put in peril — hats blown away, boat (Wing, oar lost, tumbling sea, thunder, rain in torrents, night coining, and wind unceasing. On our return, after a tight struggle, [ found her on the open steps of the MoCenigO palace, mi 'he Grand Canal, with her great black eyas (lashing through her tears, and tin- long dark hair, which was streaming, drenched with rain, over her brows and breast. She was perfectly exposed to the storm; and the wind blowing her hair and dress about her dun tall figure, and the lightning flashing around her, and the waves- rolling at her feet, made her look like Medea alighted from her chariot, or the Sibyl of the tempest that was rolling around her, the only living tiling within hail at that moment excopl ourselves. On seeing me sale, she did not wait to greet me, as might have been expected, bul calling out to me — Ah ! can' dolla Madonna, xe csto il tempo por andar' af Lido?' (Ah! dog of the Virgin, is this a time logo to Lido?) ran into the house, and solaced herself with BCOld- mg the boatmen for not foreseeing the 'temporale.' I am told by the servants that sh»* had only been prevented from mining in a boa! to look ;dicr me, by the refusal of all the gondoliers of the canal to put out uito the harbour in such a moment ; and that then she sat down on the steps in all the thickest of the squall, and would neither be removed nor comforted. Her joy at seeing me agair iras mode- rates mixed with ferocity, and gave me the idea of a Ugres* over her recovered cults. 'But her reign drew near a close. She became quite ungovernable some months after, and a concurrence of complaints, some true, and many false — 'a favourite has no friends' — determined me to nart with her. 1 ti quietly that she must return home, (she had acquired a sufficient provision for herself and mother &c. in my service,) an 1 she refused to quit the house. I was firm, and she went threatening knives and revenge. 1 told het that I had seen knives drawn before her time, and lbs it she chose to begin, there was a knife, and fork also, at hej service on the table, and that intimidation would not do Tin- next daw while I was at dinner, she walked in, (having broken open a glass door that led from the hall below to the staircase, by way « «f~ j rologue,) ami advancing straight up to the table, snatched the knife from my hand, cutting me slightly in the thumb in the operation. Whether she meant to use this against herself or me, 1 know not— probably against neither — hut Fletcher seized her by the arms, and disarmed her. I then called my boatmen, and desired them to gel the gi ndola ready, and conduct net to Uit own bouse again, seeing carefully that she did no mischief by the way. She seemed quite quiet, and walked down stairs. I resumed my dinner. " We heard a great noise, and went out, and met them on the staircase] carrying her up stairs. She had thrown herseET into the canal. That she intended to destroy hermit, I do not believe: but when we consider the feu women and men who can *t swim have of deep or even ni shallow water, (and the Venetians in particular, though they live on the waves.) and that it was also night, and dark, and very cold, il show* that she had a devilish spirit ol some sort within her. They had got her out without much difficulty or damage, excepting the salt water she had swallowed, and tin- welling she had undl "I foresaw her intention to refii herself and sent fir a surgeon, inquiring how many hours it would require to restore her from her agitation; and he named the lime. I then said, 'I give you that time, and more if you require it ; but at the expiration of this prescribed period, if «/« does not leave the house, / will.' "All my people were consternated. They had alwavs been frightened at her, and were now paralyzed: they wanted me to apply to the police, to guard myself, &c. &c. like a pack of snivelling servile boobies, as they were. I did nothing of the kind, thinking that I might as well end that way as another; besides, I had been used to savage women, and knew their ways. "I had her sent home quietly after her recovery, and never saw her since, except twice at the opera, at a distant o among the audience. She made many attempts to return, but no more violent ones. — And this is the story of Mar- garita Cogn, as far as it relates to me. "I forgot to mention that she was very devout, and woul 1 cross herself if she heard the prayer tune Strike. * + ****** "She was quick in reply; as, for instance — One day when she had made me very angry with heating somebody or other, I called her a cow, (a cow, in Italian, is a sad affront.) I called her ' VaccaJ She turned round, curt- sied, and answer i d, ' Vae.a run, Velenza,' (i. e. eeeellenza.) 1 Your cow, please your Excellency.' In short, she was, as I said before, a very fine animal, of considerable beauty and energy, with many good and several amusing qualities, hut wild as a witch and tierce as a demon. She used to boast publicly of her ascendency over me, contrasting it with that of other women, and assigning for it sundry reasons, * * +. True it was, that they all tried to get her away, and no one succeeded till her own absurdity helped them. "I omitted to tell you her answer, when I reproarhed her for snatching Madame Contarmi's mask at the Cavaichina. I represented to her that she was a lady of high birth, 'una Dama,' &c. She answered, 'Se ella e dama mi (to) son LETTE RS, 1818. 131 Vciuziana;'— 'if she is a lady, I am a Venetian.' This would have been line a hundred years ago, the pride of the nation rising up against the pride of aristocracy:* but, alas! Venice, and her people, and her nobles, are alike returning fast to the ocean; and where there is no independence, there can be no real self-respect, I believe that I mistook or misstated one of her phrases in my letter; it should have been — 'Can' della Madonna, cosa vus 1 tu ? esto non e tempo per andar 5 a Lido . ?,n LETTER CCCLXXVI. TO MR. MURRAY. " Venire, June 18,1818. •Business and the utter and inexplicable silence of all mv correspondents renders me impatient and troublesome. I wrote to Mr. Hanson for a balance which is (or ought to bi-) in his hands; — no answer. I expected the messenger with the Newsiead papers two months ago, and instead of niin, I received a requisition to proceed to Geneva, which (from * *, who knows my wishes and opinions about approaching England) could only be irony or insult. "I must, therefore, trouble ynu to pay into my bankers immediately whatever sum or sums you can make it con- venient to do on our agreement; otherwise, I shall be put to the severest and most immediate inconvenience ; and this at a time when, by every rational prospect and calcu- lation, I oiight to be in Uie receipt of considerable sums. Prav do not neglect this; you have no idea to what incon- venience you will otherwise put inc. * * had some absurd notion about the disposal of this money in annuity, (or God knows what,) which I merely listened to when he was here to avoid squabbles and sermons; but I have occasion for the principal, and had never any serious idea of appropriating it otherwise than to answer my personal expenses. Hobhouse's wish is, if possible, to force me back to England : he will not succeed ; and if he did, I would not stay. I hate the country, and like tins; and all foolish opposition, of course, merely adds to the feeling. Your silence makes me doubt the success of Canto Fourth. If it has failed, 1 will make such deduction as you think proper and fair from the original agreement ; but I could wish whatever is to be paid were remitted to me, witlioul delay, through the usual channel, hv course of post. "When I tell you that I have not heard a word from England since very early in May, I have made the eulo- gium of my friends, or the persons who call themselves so, since I have written so often and in the greatest anxiety. Thank God, the longer I am absent, the less cause I see for regretting die country or its living contents. "I am yours, &c. 'P. S. Tell Mr. * * * that * * * * * * * * * * * and that I will never forgive him, (or any body,) the atrocity of their late silence at a time when I wished particularly to hear, for every reason, from my friends." and expedite him, as I have nearly a hundred thousand pounds depending upon the completion of the sale and tho signature of the papers. "The draft on you is drawn up by Siri and Willhalm. I hope that the form is correct. 1 signed it two or three days ago, desiring them to forward it to Messrs. Morland and Ransom. " Your projected editions for November had better be postponed, as I have some things in project, or preparation, that may be of use to you, though not very important in themselves. I have completed an Ode on Venice,* and have two Stories, one serious and one ludicrous, (a la Beppo,) not yet finished, and in no hurry to be so. " You talk of the letter to Hobhouse being much admired, and speak of prose. | I think of writing (for your full edition) some Memoirs of my life, to prefix to them, upon the same model (though far enough, I fear, from reaching it,) of Gilford, Hum- , &c. ; and this without any intention of making disclosures, or remarks upon living people, which would bo unpleasant to them : but I think it might be done, and well done. However, this is to be considered. I have materials in plenty, but the greater part of them could not be used by me, nor for these hundred years to come. However, there is enough without these, and merely as a literary man, to make a preface for such an edition as you meditate. But this is by-the-way: I have not made up my mind. "I enclose you a note on the subject of 'ParisinaJl which Hobhouse can dress for you. It is an extract of particu- lars from a history oi'Fcrrara. " I trust you have been attentive to Missiaglia, for the English have the character of neglecting die Italians at present, which 1 hope you will redeem. u Yours in haste, " B." LETTER CCCLXXVII. TO MR. MTJRRAV. "Venice, July 10, 1818. M have received your letter and the credit from Mor- lunds, &c. tor whom I have also drawn upon you at sixty davs' sight for the remainder, according to your proposition w l am still waiting in Wince, m expectancy of the arrival of Hanson's clerk. What can detain him, I do not know but I trust that Mr. Hobhouse and Mr. Kmnaird, when their political fit is abated, will take the trouble to inquire LETTER CCCLXXVIII. TO MR. MURRAY. "Venice, July 17, 1818. I suppose that Aglietti will take whatever you offer, but till his return from Vienna I can make him no proposal ; nor, indeed, have you aothonzed me to do so. The three French notes are by Lady Mary; also another half- Engli:>h-Freneh-Italian. They are very pretty and pas- sionate; it is a pity that a piece of one of them is lost. Algarotti seems to have treated her ill; but she was much ■his senior, and all women are used ill — or say so, whether tbey are or not. ***** "I shall be glad of your books and powders. I am still in waiting for Hanson's clerk, but luckily not at Geneva. All my good friends wrote to me to hasten there to nieet him, but not one had the good sense, or the good nature, to write afterward to tell me that it would be time and a journey thrown awav, as he could not set off" for some months after the period appointed. If I had taken the journey on the general suggestion, I never would have spoken again to one of you as long as I existed. I have written to request Mr. Kinnaird, when the foam of his politics is wiped away, to extract a positive answer from that * * * *, and not to keep me in a state of suspense upon the subject. 1 hope that Kinnaird, who has my power of attorney, keeps a look-out upon the gentleman, which is the more necessary, as I have a great dislike to the idea of coming over to look afier him myself. u I have several tilings begun, verse and prose, but none in much forwardness. I have written some six or seven sheets of a Life, which I mean to continue, and send you when finished. It may perhaps serve for your projected editions. If you would ull mo exactly (for I know nothing • Child* Harold, C«nlo IV. lUaza 13: - • iuTKf the row." 1 Siiibi lilce a Ma* • See pntje '204. The two Stories were Mazeppo»ud L ' t DeilimLiun of the 4th C'ftiuo ofChilde Harold. J B*c Ru-Ubit, Mom 3d. 132 letters, me. and have no correspondents, except on business) the state of the re c eption of our late publications, and the feeling upon them, without consulting any delicacies, (I am too reasoned to require them,) I should know how and in what manner to proceed. 1 should not like to give them too much, winch may probably have been the case already; but, as I tell you, I know nothing. a I once wrote from the fulness of my mind and the love of fame, (not as an eric/, but as a means, to obtain that nfluence over men's minds which is power in itself and in its consemiences,) and now from habit and from avarice; so that the effect may probably be as different as the inspiration. I have the same facility and indeed necessity, of composition, to avoid idleness, (though idleness in a hot country is a pleasure,) but a much greater indifference to what is to become of it, after it has served my immediate purpose. However, I should on no account hhe to but I won't »o on, like the archbishop of Granada, as I am v.rv sure that you dread the fate of Gil Bias, ami with good reason. "Yours, &c. a P. S. I have written some very savage letters to Mr. HobhoUSO] Kinnaiid, to you, and to Hanson, because the silence of so long a time made me tear off mv remaining nigs of patience. I have seen one or two latr. English publications which are no great things, except Rob Roy. 1 shall be glad of Whisdecraft." LETTER CCCLXXIX. TO MR. MURRAY. "Venice, Aug. 26,1818. •You may go on with your edition, without calculating on (lie Memoir, which 1 shall not publish at present. It is nearly finished, but will be too long ; and there are so many things, which, out of regard to the living, cannot be men- tioned, that I have written with too much detail of that which interested me least; so that my autobiographical Essay would resemble the tragedy of Hamlet at tin- country theatre, recited ' with the part of Hamlet left out by particular desire.' I shall keep it among mv papers; it will be a kind oT"guide-post in case of deatii, and prevent some of the lies which would otherwise be told, and destroy some which have been told already. "The Tales also are in an unfinished state, and I can fix no lime for their completion : they are also not in the best manner. You must not, therefore, calculate upon anv thing in time fir this edition. The memoir is already nbove forty-four sheets of very large, long paper, and will be about tifiy or sixty ; but I wish logo on leisurely; and when finished, although it might do a good deal for vnua! tin- time, I am not sure that it would serve anv good pur- pose in the end either, as it is full of many passions and prejudices, of which ifhaa been impossible for me to keep clear : — I have not the patience. '• Kn'losc'l is a list of books which Dr. Aglietti would be glad to receive by way of price for his MS. letters, if you are disposed to purchase at the rate of fifty pounds sterling. These he will be glad to have as part, and the rest / will ^-ive him in money, and you may carry it to 1 1 II- account of books, &C. which i> in ballance against me deducting it accordingly. So that the letters arc vours, if you like them, at any rate; and he and I are going t hunt for more Lady Montague letters, which he thinks of rinding. I write in haste. Thanks for the article, and behove me, * Yours, &c." easily found ; I forget the number, but am probably the only Demon in Venice who don't know it. There is no comparison between him and anv of the other medicaJ people here. I regret very much to hear of your indispo- sition, and shall do myself the honour of waiting upon you the moment I am up. I write this in bed, and have only just received the letter and note. I beg you to believe that nothing but tl>e extreme lateness of my hours could have prevented me from replying muiu-diatery, or coining in person. I have not been called a minute. — I have the honour tube, very truly, "Your most obedient servant, 'BrmoH.' LETTER CCCLXXXI. TO MH. MOftllE. LETTER CCCLXXX. TO CAPT. BASIL HALL. "Venice, Aug. SL 1818. " PEAR SIR, "Or. Aglietti is the best physician, not only in Venice, but in Italy: his residence is on the Grand Canal mi 1 'Venice, Sept. 19,1818. "An English newspaper here would be a prodigy, and an opposition one a mons'er; and, except some extracts from extracts in the vile, garbled Paris gazettes, nothing of the kind reaches the Veneto-Lombard public, who are perhaps the most oppressed in Europe. My correspond- ences with England are mostly on business, and chiefly with my Solicitor, Mr. Hanson, who has no very exalted notion, or extensive conception, of an author's attributes : for he once took up an Edinburgh Review, and, looking at it a minute, said to me, *So, I see you have got into tin magazine,' — which is tlie only sentence I ever heard him utter upon literary matters, or the men thereof "My first news of your Irish apotheosis has, conse- quently, been from yourself. But, as it will not be forgotten in a hurry, either by your friends or your enemies, I hope to have it more in detail from some of the former, and, in the mean time, I wish you joy with all my heart. Such a moment must have been a good deal better than West- minster- Abbey, — besides being an assurance of that one day (many years hence, I trust) into the bargain. " I am sorry to perceive, however, by the close of vonr letter, that even you have not escaped the ' surjut amari" &c. and that your damned deputy has been gathering sach 'dew from the still vert Bermoothes* — or rather vtxatiuus. Prav, give me some items of the affair, as you say it is a serious one; and. if it grows more so, you should make a trip over here for a few months, to see how things turn out. I suppose you are a violent admirer of England by your staying so long in it. For my own part, I have passed between the age of onc-and-twenty and thirty, half the in- tervement years out of it without regretting any thing, ex- cept that I ever returned to it at all, and the gloomy pros- pect before me of business and parentage obliging uie, one dav, to return again, — at least, tor the transaction of affairs, the signing of papers, and inspecting of children. U I have here my naiural daughter, by name Allegra, — a pretty little girl enough, and reckoned like papa. Her mamma is English, — but it is a long storv, and — there's an end. She is about twenty months old; * * * "I have finished the First Canto, (a long one, of about 180 octaves,) of a poem in the -l vie and manner of 'Beppo, encouraged by the go*n! success of the same. It is called 'Don Juan,' and is meant to be a little (jiiietly facetious upon every thing. But I douht whether it is not — at least, as far as it has yet gone — too free for these very modest days. However, I shall try the experiment^ anonymously, and if it do n't take, it will be discontinued. It is dedicated to Southey in good, simple, savage verse, upon the * * * * s politics,* and the way he got them. But the bore of copying it out is intolerable ; and if I had an amanuensis he would be of no use, as my writing is so difficult to decipher. " My poem '• Epic, nnd is meant to he Divided U. twelve book>, ench book containing. Wdlcudni to S Fali.ro, Art 3. Sc«ir 1 t Com!il«l In tins eOiUc*. ; Tlds |*Mtfl rciaajun u LETTER CCCLXXXIV. TO MR. MURRAY. "Venice, Jan. 25, 1819. "You will dome the favour to print privately (tor privat* distribution) fifty copies of 'Don Juan.' The list of the men to whom I wish it to be presented, I will send here- after. The other two poems had best be added to the collective edition: I do not approve of their being published separately. Print Don Juan entire, omitting, of course, the lines on Castlereagh, as I am not on the spot to meet him. I have a Second Canto readv, which will be sent by-and- by. By this post, I have written to Mr. Hobhouse, addressed to your care. "Yours, &c. "P. S. I have acquiesced in the request and repre- sentation ; and having done so, it is idle to detail my arguments in favour of my own self-love and 'Poeshie^ but I protest. If the poem has poetry, it would stand; if not, fall; the rest is 'leather and prunella,' and has nevei yet affected any human production 'pro or con.' Du'ness is the only annihilator in such cases. As to the cant of ihe dav, I despise it, as 1 have ever done all its other finical fashions, which become you as paint became the ancient Britons. If you admit this prudery, you must omit half Ariosto, La Fontaine, Shakspcare, Beaumont, Fletcher Massinger, Ford, all the Charles Second writers ;f in short, something of most who have written before Pope and are worth reading, and much of Pope himself. Read him — most of you dorit — but do — and I will forgive you; though the inevitable consequence would be that you would burn all I have ever written, and all your other wretched Clandians of the day (except Scott and Crabhe v into the bargain. I wrong Claudian, who was a poet uy naming him with such fellows; but he was the 'ulnmus Roman- orum, 1 the tail of the comet, and these person? are the tail of an old gown cut into a waistcoat for lackey; but being both tailsy I have compared the one with tfi- o'he- though very unlike, like all similes. J I write in a ua*sion nod a • Don Juan, On«i IV. rt»nsr IS T S>* Dou Ju.-ti CuO.V. llama t9. j See Levwi* to P-*v'«» aM rW-wtyd. 134 LETTER!?, 1810. sirocco, and I was up till six this morning at the Carnival ; but I protest, as 1 did in my former letter." LETTER CCCLXXXV. TO MR. MURRAY. "Venice, Feb. 1, 1819. ■After one of the concluding stanzas of the First Canto of 'Don Juan, 1 which ends with (I forget the Dumber] — " To h»«(, . . . when the original ib duftt, A book, ■» (1 — d bad picture, and wumi- buat,* insert the following stanza:— " What arc tdf lioj*« of man, &C. ■I have written to you several letters, some with addi- tions, and some Upon the subject of the poem itself, which my cursed puritanical committee have protested against publishing But we will circumvent them on that point I hare not yet begun to copy out the Second Canto, which is finished, from natural laziness, and the discouragement of the milk nod water they have thrown upon the First. I say all this to them as to yon, that is, tor you to say to them, tor I will have nothing underhand. If they hud told me the poetry was bad, 1 would have acquiesced; but they say the contrary, and then talk to me about morality — the first tune 1 ever heard the word from any body who was not a rascal that used it for a purpose. 1 maintain that it is the most moral of poems; but if people won't discover the moral, that is their fault, not mine. I have already written to beg thai in any case you will print Jljiy lor private distribution. I will send you die list of persons to whom it is to be sent afterward. 1 Within this last fortnight 1 have been rather indisposed with a rebellion of stomach, winch would retain nothing, (liver, I suppose,) and an inability, or fantasy, not to be able to eat of any thin;,- with relish but a kind of Adriatic fish called 'scampi,' which happens to be the most indi- gestible of marine viands. However, within these last two days, I am better, and very truly yours." LETTER CCCLXXXVL TO MK. MURRAY. ■Venice, April 6, 1819. "The Second Canto of Don Juan was sent, on Saturday last, by post, in four packets, two of four, and two of three sheets each, containing in all two hundred and seventeen stanzas, octave measure. Hut 1 will permit no curtail- ments, except tints.- mentioned about Castlereagh and * *****. You sha'n't make cantieUt of my cantos. The poem will please, if it is lively; if it is stupid, it will fail: but I will have none of your damned cutting and slashing. If you please, you may publish anonymiusty ; it rill, perhaps, be better; but 1 will battle my way against mem all, bke a porcupine. ■So you and Air. Foscolo, &C want me to undertake what you call a 'great work?' an Epic Poem, 1 suppose, or some such pyramid. I'll try no such thing; 1 hate tasks. And then 'seven or eight years!' God send us all well this day three months, let alone years. If one's years can't be better employed than in sweating poesy, a man had be't.-r be B ditcher. And works, too!— ifl Child) Harold nothing? You have bo many l divitu? poems, is it nothing U have written a human one? without any of your worn-out machinery. Why, man, I could have spun the thoughts of the Four Cantos ofthat poem into twenty, had I wanted to book-make, and its passion into as many modern tiugedies. Since you want Eerujn, you shall have enough of Juan, for I'll make Fifty Canlos.f "Ami Foscolo, too! Why does he not do something more than the Letters of Otis, and a tragedy, and pam- phlets? He has got»d fifteen years more at tut «fwiffmnd than I have: what lias be done all that time? — prpvi genius, doubtless, but not fixed its fame, nor done his utmost ■ i '•<■- ides, I me. in to write my best work in hah it will lake me tune years more thoroughly to master Hie language; and then if my fancy exists, and I exist too, I will try what I can do really. As to ihe estimation of the English which you tall; of, let them calculate what it is worth, before they insult me with theil insolent conde- scension. "I have not written for their pleasure. If they are pleased, it is that they chose to be so; 1 have never flat- tered their opinions, nor their pride; nor will I. Neither will I make 'Ladies 1 hooks 1 'al dilettar le famine e la pit ■he.'* I have written from I he fulness of mj mind, from passion, from impulse, from many motives, but not for their ' sweet voices.' "I know the precise worth of popular applause, for few scribblers have had more of it ; and if I chose to swerve into their paths. I could retain it, or resume it. But I neither love ye, nor fear ye; ami though I buy with ye and sell with ye, I will neither eat with ye, drink with ye, noi pray with ye. They made me, without my search, a I <■< ee of popular idol- they, without reason or judgment, beyond the caprice of their goinl pleasure, threw down Hie image from its pedestal; it was not broken with the fall, and they would, it seems, again replace it, — but they shall not. " You ask about my health: about the beginning of the year I was in a state of greal exhaustion, attended by such debility of stomach that nothing remained Upon it ; ami I was obliged to reform my 'way of life, 1 which was conductr big me from the 'yellow leaf to the ground, with all deliberate 1 speed. I am better in health and moral , and very much yours, &c. B P.S. I have read Hodgson's 'Friends.' * + * * He is right in defending Pope against the bastard pelicans of the poetical winter day, who add insult to their parricide by sucking the blood of the parent of English real poetry- poetry without fault — and then spurning the bosom which fed diem." LETTER CCCLXXXVII. TO THE EDITOR OF GALIGNAm's MESSENGER. "Venice, April 27, 1819. "sir, M In various numbers of your journal, I have seen men- tioned a work entitled ' the Vampire,' with the addition of my name as thai of the author. I am not the author, and never heard ofthe work in question until now. In amors recent paper I perceive a formal annunciation of 'the Vampire,' with the addition of an account of my 'residence in the Island of Mitylene, 1 an island which 1 have occa- sionally sailed by in the course of travelling some years ago through the Levant — and where 1 should have no objection to reside, but wh:re I have never vet resided. Neither of these performances arc mine, and I presume that it is neither unjust nor ungracious to request thai you will favour me by contradicting the advertisement to which I allude. If the book is clever, it would be base to deprive the real writer, whoever he may be, of his honours; ami if stupid, I desire the responsibility of nobody's dulncss but tin own. You will excuse the trouble 1 give you, tho imputation is of no great importance, and as long as it was confined to surmises and reports, t should have received it, as 1 have received many others, in silence. But thif ' In the printed veraiou " a wretched picluro." * See Duu Juan, tamo XII. hiuii So. >r« ' »t'll.«t LETTERS, 1819 133 formality of a public advertisem»nt.ofabook I never wrote, and a residence where I never resided, is a little too much ; particularly .us I have no notion of the contents of the one, nor the incidents of the other. I have besides, a personal dislike to ' Vampires,' and the little acquaintance I have with them would by no means induce me lo divulge their You did me a much less injury by your para- graphs about * mv devotion' and ' abandonment of society for the sake of religion.' which appeared in vour Messenger during last Lent, all of which are not founded on fact, bin e I do not contradict them, because they are merely personal, whereas the others in some degree concern the reader. You will oblige me by complying with my request of contradiction — I assure you that I know nothing o( the work or works in question, and have the honour to be (as the correspondents to Magazines say) 'your constant reader/ and vary " Obt. humble servt. " Byron." LETTER CCCLXXXVHI. TO MR. MURRAY. "Venice, Mav 15, 1819. * * + * * " * 11 1 have got your extract, and the ' Vampire.'* I need not sav it i= not mine. There is a rule to go by: you are my publisher, (till we quarrel,) and what is not published by you is not written by me. ■¥ * * * * * " Next week I set out for Romagna — at least in ail probability. You had better go on with the publications, without waiting to hear farther, for I have other things in my head. ' Mazeppa' and the 'Ode' separate? — what think you 1 Juan anonymous, without the Dedication ; for I won't be shabby, and attack Southey under cloud of night. " Yours, &c." In another letter on the subject of the Vampire, are the following particulars. LETTER CCCLXXXIX. TO MR. MURRAY. " The story of Shelley's agitation is true.f I can't tell what seized him for he don't want courage. He was once with me in a gale of wind, in a small boat, right under the rocks between Meillerie and St. Gingo. We were five in the boat — a servant, two boatmen, and ourselves. The *ail was mismanaged, and the boat was filling fast. He can't swim. I stripped off my coat, made him strip off his, an i take hold of an oar, telling him that I thought (being myself an expert swimmer) I could save him, if he would not struggle when I took hold of him — unless we got smashed against the rocks, which were high and sharp. with an awkward surf on them at that minute. We were then about a hundred yards from shore, and the boa' in peril. He answered me. with the greatest coolness. ' thai no notion of being saved, and that 1 would have enough to do to save myseff t and begged not to trouble me. 1 Luckily, the boat righted, and, bailing, we got round a point • B* Doctor Pultdort, tl "-t. »» glnn in ih» P--..1V- tr, ihr "Vim;,irf." btu follow*:— " ti appear*, loot one evening Lord R. Mr. P. R. Shelter. I *.it thr •.-< > ml-,! i ,., nflrr til vine permed ■, German work tiBiitMimgorta.besui relai , when hi* lordahlp bnvlnt recited the beginning of Chrietebel, iKe puhlbhed, the whole ijok Htelronci h rid of Mr Shetlej i d, tha he mddenl? started up. Hot [he room, Thephyaictm end Lord Brron followed, ami discovered him Ifiiiioe against a rnxntel-ptere. with cold drops of per- I lownhisfare. After having e<*er> him „.,., refr*ih htm. upon inquiring into the rame of hie alarm, they found Ihm h.* wild Imagination having pictured to him the boeom of one of r »i ledtei with cfri, (whteh w«« reported of a lady In the neighbourhood when he Jeed.) ha wu oblijpad to leave the room la order lo deatrov the im- nreutoa.'* into St. Gingo where the inhabitants came down and embraced the boatmen on their escape, the wind having been high enough to tear up some huge trees from the Alps above us, as we saw next day. "And yet the same Shelley, who was as cool as it was possible to be in such circumstances, (of which I am no judge myself as the chance of swimming naturally gives self-possession when near shore,) certainly had the fit of fantasy which Polidori describes, though not exactly as ht describes it. " The story of the agreement to write the ghost-books is true ; but the ladies are not sisters. * * * * ******** ** Mary Godwin (now Mrs. Shelley) wrote Frankenstein, which vou have reviewed, thinking it Shelley's. Mi thinks it is a wonderful book for a girl of nineteen, no* nineteen indeed, at that time. I enclose you the beginningof mine,* bv which you will see how far it resembles Mr. Colburn 1 3 publication. If you choose to publish it, you may , stating why, and with such explanatory proem as you please. I never went on wi'h it. as you will perceive by the date. I began it in an old account-book of Miss Milbanke's, which I kept because it contained the word ' Household,' written bv her twice on the inside blank page of the co- vers, being the only two scraps I have in the world in her writing, except her name to the Deed of Separation. Her letters I sent back, except those of the quarrelling corre- spondence, and those, being documents, are placed in the hands of a third person, with copies of several of my own ; so that I have no kind of memorial whatever of her, but these two words, — and her actions. I have torn the leaves containing the part of the Tale out of the book, and enclose them with this sheet. * * * * * * "What do you mean? First you seem hurt by mv letter, and then, in vour next, you talk of its ' power,' and so forth. 'This is a d — d blind s f ory, Jack; but never mind, go on.' You may be sure I said nothing on purpose to plague vou, but if you will put me ' in aphrensy, I will never call you Jack again.' I remember nothing of the epistle at present. " "What do you mean by Polidori's .D'on/ ? Why, I defy him to say any thing about me but he is welcome. I have nothing to reproach me with on his score, and I am much mistaken if that is not his own opinion. But why publish the name of the two girls ? and in such a manner? — what a blundering piece of exculpation ! He asked Pictet, &c. to dinner, and of course was left to entertain them, I went into society solely to present him, (as I told him.) that he mi^ht return into good company if he chose; it was the best thing for his youth and circumstances ; for myself, I had done with society, and, having presented him, with- drew to my own ' way of life.' It is true that I returned without entering Lady DaJrymple Hamilton's, because 1 saw it full. It is true that Mrs. Hervey (she writes novels) fainted at mv entrance into Copet, and then came back again. On her fainting, the Duchesse de Broglie ex claimed, ' This i« too much at sixty-Jive vears of age !' — ] never gave ' the English* an opportunity of avoiding me but I trust that if ever I do, they will seize it. With re- gard to Mazeppa and the Ode, you may join or separate them, as you please, from the two Cantos. 11 Don't suppose I want to put you out of humour. I have a great respect for your pood and gentlemanly quali- ties, and return your personal friendship towards me ; and although I think you a little spoiled hv ' villainous com- pany,' — wits, persons of honour about town, authors, and fashionables, together with vour ' I am just going to call at Carlton House, are you walking that way V — I sav, not- withstanding ( pictures, taste, Shakspeare, and the musi- cal glasses,' vou deserve and possess the esteem of those whose esteem is worth having, and of none more (how- ever useless it may be) than yours very truly, &c. • See I'fe'ueut, page 278. 136 LETTERS, 1819. " P. S. Make my respects to Mr. Gifford. I am per- fectly aware thai ' Don Juan' nius' set us all by the ears, but thai is my concern, and mv beginning. There will be the " Edinburgh,' and all, too, against it, so thai, like ' Rob Roy,' I shall have my hands full." LETTER CCCXC. TO MR. MURRAY. "Venice, May 25, 1819 " I have received no proofs by the last post, and shall probably have quitted Venice before the arrival of ihe next. There wanted a few stanzas to the termination of Canto First in the last proof: the next will, I presume, contain them and the wh »le or a portion of Canto Second: but it will be idle to wait for farther answers from me, as I have directed that my letters wail for my return, (perhaps in a month, and probably so;) therefore do not wait (or farther advice from me. You may as well talk to the wind, and better — for ft will at least convey your accents a little farther than they would othenn iso have gone ; whereas / shall le- iiher echo noracquiesce vp pour 'exquisite reasons. 1 You may omit the note of reference to Henhouse's travels, in Canto Second, and you will put as motto to the whole — ' Difficile est [»roi>iie curmminin dicere.' — Horace. " A few davs ago I sen! you all I know of Polidori's Vampire. He may do, say, or write what he pleases, but I wish he would not attribute tome his own compositions. [f he has any thing of mine in his possession, the manu- script will put it beyond controversy; but I scarcely think that any one who knows me would believe the thing in the Magazine to be mine, even if they saw it in my own hyeroglyphics. " 1 write to you in the agonies of nxiror.ro, which annihi- lates me ; and I have hern fool enough to do (bur things since dinner, which areas well omitted in very hot weather lslly, + * * + ; 2dly, to play at billiards from 10 'o 12, under the influence of lighted lamps, that doubled the heat: 3dly, to go afterward into a red-hot conversazione of the Countess Benzoni's;and 4 hly, to begin this letter at three in the morning: but being begun, it must be finished. " Ever very truly and affectionately yours, "B. " P. S. I petition for tooth-brushes, powder, magnesia, Macassaroil, (or Russia.) (Ziesashes, arid Sir Nl. Wrax- alPs Memoirs of his Own Times. I want, besides, a bull- dog, a terrier, and two Newfoundland dogs; and I want (is it Buck's ?) a life of IHrhard JW, advertised by Long- man, fong } ton^ long ago ; I asked for it at least three years since. See Longman's advertisements." LETTER CCCXCI. TO MR. HOPPNER. u A journey in an Italian June is a conscription ; and if I was not the most constant of men, 1 should now be swimming from the Lido, instead of smoking in the dust of Padua. Should there be letters from England, let them wait mv return. And do look at mv house and (not lauds, but) waters, and scold ; — and deal out the moneys to Edgecombe* with an air of reluctance and a shake of the head — and put queer questions to him — and turn up your nose when he answers. " Make my respects to the Consuless — and to the Chevalier — and to Scotin — and to all the counts and countesses of our acquaintance. " And believe me ever " Your disconsolate and affectionate, &c." * A clerk of the English Coiliulate, whom lie at lliii lime t mplgj wJ tw wuLi-olbia&ccouuii. LETTER CCCXCn. TO MR. HOPP.VER. " Bologna, June 6, 1819. " I am at length joined to Bologna, where I am settled like a sausage, and shall be broiled like one if this weathef continues, Will you thank Mengaldoon "iv part firthe Ferrara acquaintance, which was a very agreeable one, I staved two days al Ferrara. and was mnt i pleased with die i nun' Evlosti, end the lutlc the shortness of the time permute, I me In see nl" j is family. L wen' to hl^ r n 1 . • . - sazione, which is very far superior to anv thing of the kind at Venice — the women almost all young — several pretty — and the men courteous and cleanly- The lady of the mansion, who is young, lately married, and with child, appeared very prettv bv candlelight. (I dio not see her by day-) pleasing in her manners, and TOT) lady-like, or thorough-bred, as we call it in England, — e kind of thing which reminds one of a racer, an antelope, or an Italian greyhound. She seems very fbnd of her husband, who is amiable and accomplished : he has been in England two or three times, and is young. Tie- sister, a C somebody — I forget what — (they an* both Mallei by birth, and Veronese of course) — is a lalv of more display j she sings and plays divinely ; but I thought she was ad — d long time about it. H'=r likeness to Madame Flahaut (Miss Mercer that was) is something quite extraordinary. u I had but a bird's-eye view of these p« ople, and shall not probably see them again ; but I am very much obliged to Mengaldo for letting me see them at all. Whenever I meet with any thing agreeable in this world, it surprises me so much, and pleases me so much, (when my passions are not interested one way or the other.) that I go on wondering for a week to come. ( feel, too, in great ad- miration of the Cardinal Legate's red Stockings. " I found, too, such a pretty epitaph in the Certosa cemetery, or rather two: one was 1 Martini Luigi linj.'lora yjee ;' the other, • Lucretin Picinl Implora eternn quit'le.* That was all ; but it appears to me that these two and three words comprise and compress all that can be said on the subject, — and then, in Italian, they are absolute music. They contain doubt, hope, and humility ; nothing can be more pathetic than the * implora' and the modesty of the request ; — they have had enough of life— they want nothing but rest — they implore it, and ' eternaquiete.' It is like a Greek inscription in some good old heathen ' City of the Dead.' Pray, if I am shovelled into the Lido churchyard in your time, let me have the ' implora pace,' and nothing else, for my epitaph. I never met with any, ancient or modern, that pleased me a tenth part so much. " In about a day or two after you receive this letter, I wil thank you to desire Edgecombe to prepare for mv return. [ shall [jo back to Venice before I village on the Brenta. I shall stay but a few days in Bologna. I am just going out lo see sights, but shall not present my introductory letters fir a day or two, till 1 have run over again the place and pictures ; nor perhaps at all. if I rind that I have books and sights enough to do without the inhabitants. After that, I shall return to Venice, where you may expect me about the eleventh, or perhaps sooner. Pray make my thanks acceptable to Mengaldo ; my respects to the Consuless, ami to Mr. Scott. u I hope my daughter is well. " Ever yours, and truly. " P. S. F went pver the Ariosto MS. &c. &c. again at Ferrara, with the castle, and cell, and house, &c. &c. " One of the Ferrarese asked me if I i>new ' Lord By ron.' an acquaintance of his now at Naples. I told him 'iVo." which was true both ways; for I knew not an impostor, and, in the other, no one knot"s himself. He LETTERS, 1819. IS? believe the thought would drive me mad on my deathbed, could I suppose that any of my friends wotld be baso enough to convey my carcass bark lo your soJ. — I would not even feed your worms, if I could help it. "So, as Shakspcare says of MowLrav, the banished Duke. of Norfolk, who died at Venice, (sec Richard tUi.) iliat he, after righting ' Aeainst Mark P^eann, Turks, and Saraceui, And toi]*d with worinofwmr, retired himself To Ttnly, and there, at Venice, gave His t<]Jy lo thai I't'.tsrw: country's earth, Ai»1 ins pure soul unto hi I have directed that no English letters be sent at er roe. The publication can be proceeded in without, and I am already sick (if your remarks, to which I think u-»t the least attention ought to be paid. * Tell Mr. Hobhouse, that since 1 wrote to him, I had V nfled myself of my Ferrara letter^, and found the societv much younger and better there than at Venice. I am very much pleased with the little the shortness of mv stav permitted me to see of the Gonfaloniere Count Mosti, and his family and friends in general. k I have been picture-ga7ing this morning at the famous r n;hino and Gi'ido, both of which arc superlative. I afterward went to the beautiful cemeterv of Bologna, beyond the walls, and found v besides the superb burial- ground, an original ofa Custode, who reminded one of the grave-digger in Hamlet. He has a collection of capuchins' skulls, labelled on the forehead, and taking down one of lhem, said, ' This was Brother Desiderio Berro, who died at forty — oneof my best friends. I begged his head of his en after his decease, and they gave it me. I put it in lime, and then boiled it. Here it is, teeth and ail. in excellent preservation. He was the merriest, cleverest fellow I ever knew. Wherever he went he brought joy; and whenever any one was melancholy, the sight of him was enough to make him cheerful again. He walked actively, you might have taken him for a dancer — he joked — he laughed — oh ! he was such a Frate as I never saw before, nor ever shall again !' "He told me that he had himself planted all the cypresses in the cemetery; that he had the greatest attachment to thern and to his dead people; that since 1801 they had buried fifty-three thousand persons. In showing some older niDiiuments, there was that ofa Roman girl of twenty, with a bust by Bernini. She was a princess Barlorini, dead two centuries ago: he said, that on opening her grave, they, had fijund her hair complete, and ' as yellow as fjoid. 1 Some of the epitaph* at Ferrara pleased me more lan the more splendid monuments at Bologna ; for in- stance — ' Martini Luig] Imjtlora pace;' * Lucreiin Pu'iiii tlll|'loia eitrna qniele.* fan anv thing be more full of pathos? Thos>* few words say all that can be said or sought; the dead had had enough of life; all they wanted was rest, and this thev implore! There is all the helplessness ami humble hope, and liathlike prayer, that can arise from the grave — uuplora pace. 1 I hope whoever may survive me, and shall see me put in the foreigners' buryirig-ground at the Lido, within the fortress by the Adriatic, will see those two words, and no more, put over me. I trust the} wun't think ot • pickling, and bringing me home to Clod or Blunderbuss Hall.' I am sure my bones would not rest in ui English grave, ot my clay mix v. uh the earth of thai country. 1 18 LETTER CCCXCIV. TO MR. HOPPNER. "Ravenna, June 20, 1819. ****** I wrote to you from Padua, and from Bologna, and since from Ravenna. I find my situation very agreeable, but want my horses very much, there being good ridiig in the environs. I can fix no time for my return to Venice — it may be soon or late— or not at all— it all depends on the Donna,| whom I fuund very seriously in bed with a cuugh and spitting of blood, &c. all of which has subsided. * ********* *^ I f nind all the people here firmly persuaded that she w ould never recover; — they were mistaken, however. "My letters were useful as far as I employed them, and I like both the place and people, though I do n't trouble t'te latter more than lean help. Sfie manages very wolf — • Sir PUmuel Ronully. He committed ■m'dda. 1 See LiUir 378. J The Ccuuleu Gaiooioli. 138 LETTERS, 1819. * * * * * but if I come away wKh a stiletto in my gizzard some fine afternoon, I shall not be astoni shedi I can't make tuut out at all — he visits me frequendv, and takes me out (like Whittinglon, Uie LorJ Mayor) in a coacli and air horses. The fuel appears to be, that he is completely govenud by her — for lhai matter, so am I. The people here don't know what to make of us, as he had the character of jealousv with liII Ins wives — lliis is the third. He is the richest of the Ravennese, by their own account, but is not popular among them. ****** ****** Now do, pray, send off Augustine, and carriage and cattle, to Bologna, without fail or delay, or I shall lose my re- maining shred of senses. Don't forget this. -My coming, going, and every thing depend upon her entirely, just as Mrs. Hoppner (to whom 1 remit my reverences) said in the true spirit of female prophecy. "You are but a shabby fellow not to have written before. "And I am truly yours, kc." LETTER CCCXCV. TO MR. MURRAY. "Ravenna, June 29, 1619. "The letters have been forwarded from Venice, but 1 trust that you will not have wailed lor farther alterations — I will make none. You ask me to spare Romilly — ask the worms. His dust can surfer nothing from the truth being spoken — and if it cvulrt, how did he behave to me? You may talk to the wind, which will carry the sound — and to the caves, which will echo you — but not to me, on the sub- ject of a * * * who wronged mo — whether dead or alive. "I have no time to return you the proofs — publish with- out them. 1 am glad you diink Uie poesy good; and as to 1 thinking of the ell'ect,' think you of the sale, and leave me to pluck Ute porcupines who may point their quills at you. "I have been here (at Ravenna) these four week-, having left Venice a month ago; — 1 came to see my 'Arnica, 1 the Countess Guiccioli, who has been, and still continues, very unwell. * * * * * * * * * * * She is only twenty years old, but not of a strong constitu- tion. ********* She has a perpetual cough, and an intermittent fever, but bears up most gallantly in every sense of the word. Her husband (this is his third wife) is die richest noble of Ravenna, and almost of Rornagna; he is also not die youngest, being upwards of threescore, but in good pre- servation. All this will appear strange to you, who do not understand the meridian morality, nor our way of life in such respects, and I cannot at present expound the differ- ence ;— but you would find it much the same in these parts. At Faenza there is Lord * * * * with an opera girl; and at the inn in the same town is a Neapolitan Prince, who serves die wife of the Gonfaloniere of that city. I am on duty here — so you see 'Cosi fan tnUi e tuUe.' "I have my horses here, saddle as well as carriage, and ride or drive every day in the forest, the jpmeto, the scene of Boccaccio's novel, and Dryden's fable of Honuria, &c. &c. ; and I see my Dama every day ****** ; but I feel seriously uneasy about her health, which seems very precarious. In losing her, I should lose a being who has run great risks 00 my account, and whom I have every reason to love; — but I must not think this possible. I do not know what 1 should do if she died, but I ought to blow my brains out — and I hope that I should. Her hus- band is a very polite personage, but I wish be would not earry me out ui his coach and six, like Whit Ling ton and ins cat. "You ask me if I mean to continue Don Juan, &c. How should I know? What encouragement do you give me, ail of you, with your nonsensical prudery? — publish uie two Cantos, and then you will see. I desired Mr Kinnaird to speak to you on a little matter of business either be has not spoken, or you have not answered. Yoi are a pretty pair, but 1 will be even with you both. J perceive that Mr. Hobhouse has been challenged by Major Cartw right. — Is the Major 'so cunning of fence''' — why did not they fight I — they ought. * Yours, &c.* LETTER CCCXCVL TO MR.HOrPNER. "Ravenna, July 2, 1819. "Thanks fir your letter and for Madame's. I will an- swer it directly. Will you recollect whether I (fid Dot consign to you one or two receipts of Madame Moceni«o's fur hi -use-rent — (I am not sure of this, but think I did — if not, they will be in my drawer-) — and will vnu dean Mr. Domlle* to have the goodness to see if Edgecombe has recdpl* to all payments hitherto made by him on my ac- count, and that diere are no dchts at Venice? On your answer, 1 shall send order of farther remittance to carry on my household expenses, as my present return to Venice is very problematical ; and it may happen — but I can say nothing positive — every thing with me being indecisive and undecided, except the disgust which Venice excites when fairly compared with any other city in this part of Italy When I say Venice, I mean the Venetians — the eiiy itself is superb as its history — but the people are what I never thought them till they taught me to think so. "The best way will be to leave Allegra with Antonio's spouse till I can decide something about her and myself— but I thought that you would have had an answer from Mrs. V r.f — You have had bore enough with me and mine already. "I greatly fear that the Guiccioli is going into a con- sumption, to which her constitution tends. Thus it ts with every tiling and even,- body for whom I feel any thin" like a real attachment; — 'War, death, or discord, dulh lay siege to them.' 1 never even could keep alive a dog that 1 liked or that liked me. Her symptoms are ..an- nate cough of Uie lungs, and occasional fever, &c. &c. and there are latent causes of an eruption in the skin, which she foolishly repelled into the system two years ago; but I have made them send her case to Asjjetti: and have begged him to come — if only for a day or two— to consult upon her state. * * + ** **** * * ** **** * * If it would not bore Mr. Domlle, I wish he would keep an eye on Edgecombe and on my other ragamuffins. I might have more to say, but I ant absorbed about La Gm. and her illness. 1 cannot tell you the effect n )>a9 upon me. tt The horses came, &c. &c. and I have been galloping through die pine forest daily. " Believe me, &c. "P. S. My benediclion on Mrs. Hoppner, a pleasant journey among the Bernese tyrants, and safe return. You ought to bring back a Platonic Bernese for my n formation. If any thing happens to my present Arnica, I have done with the passion for ever — it is my last love. As to liber- tmism, I have sickened myself of that, as was natural in Uie way I went on, and I have at least derived that advan- tage from vice, to love in the better sense of the word. This will be my last adventure! — I can hope no more to Inspire attachment, and I trust never again to feel it." • The Viee-Conml of Mr. Hopi-ner. t An F.»(1mIi lady, whn jTOioitd taking clinrn of iH<*nu ; See iuiluict,i>age iS7. LETTERS, 1819. 139 LETTER CCCXCVII. TO MB. MURRAY. ■ Ravenna, August I, 1819. * [Address your answer to Venice, however.] "Don't be alarmed. You will see me defend myself gayly— that is, if 1 happen to be in spirits ; and by spirits, I dorfl mean your meaning of the word, but the spirit of a bull-dog when pinched, or a bull when pinned ; it is th^n that they make best sport ; and as my sensations under nn attack are probably a happy compound of the united energies of these amiable animals, you may perhaps see what Marra.ll calls 'rare sport,' and some good tossing and goring, in the course of the controversy. But I must be in the right cue first, and T doubt t am almost too far off to be in a sufficient fury for the purpose. And then I have effeminated and enervated myself with love and the summer in these last two months. K I wrote to Mr. Hobhouse the other day, and foretold that Juan would either fall entirely or succeed completely ; there will be no medium. Appearances are not favour- able ; but as you write the day after publication, it can hardly be decided what opinion will predominate. You seem in a fright, and doubtless with cause. Come what may, I never will flatter the million's canting in any shape. Circumstances may or mav not have placed me at times in a situation to lead the public opinion, but the public opinion never led, nor ever shall lead, me. I will not sit am a degraded throne ; so pray put Messrs. * * or * *, or Tom Moore, or * * * upon it ; they will all of them be transported with their coronation. ****** "P. S. The Countess Guiccioli is much better than she was. I sent vou, before leaving Venice, the real original sketch which gave* rise to the ' Vampire,' &c. Did you gel it?* LETTER CCCXCVIIL TO MR. MURRAY. " Ravenna, August 9, 1819. ****** * Talking of blunders reminds me of Ireland — Ireland of Moore. What is this I see in Galignani about ' Ber- muda — agent — deputy — appeal — attachment, 1 &c. ? What is the matter ? Is it anv thing in which his friends can be of use to him ? Pray inform me. a Of Don Juan I hear nothing farther from you ; * * *, but the papers don't seem so fierce as the letter you sent me seemed to anticipate, by their extracts at least in lanis Messenger. I never saw such a set of fel- lows as you are ! And then the pains taken to exculpate the modest publisher — he remonstrated, forsooth! I will write a preface that iltall exculpate you and * * *, &c. completely on that point ; but, at thp same time, I will cut you up like gourds. You have no more soul than the Cmim de Cavlus (who assured his friends, on his death- bed, that he had none, and that he must know better than they whether he had one or no,) and no more blood than a water-melon! And I see there hath been asterisks, and what Perry used to call'domned cutting and s!a.s!ung' — but, never mind. ■ I write in haste. To-morrow I set off for Bologna. I write to you with thunder, lightning, &c. and all the winds of heaven whistling through my hair, and the racket of preparation to boot. 'My mistress dear, who hath fed my heart upon smiles and wine 1 for the last two months, set off with her husband for Bologna this morning, and it seems that I follow him at three to-morrow morning. I cannot tell how our romance will end, but it hath gone on hitherto most erotically. Such perils and escapes ! Juan's are as child's play in comparison. The fools think that all mv poeshie is always allusive to my own adventures : I have had at one time or another better and more* extra- ordinary and perilous and pleasant than these, every day nf the week, if I might tell them ; but that must never be, "I hope Mrs. M. has accouched. "Yours ever." LETTER CCCXCIX. TO MR. MURRAY. " Bologna, August 12, 1819. H I do not know how far I may be able to reply to your letter, for I am not very well to-day. Last night I went to the representation of Alfieri's Mirra, the last two acts of which threw me into convulsions. I do not mean by that word a lady's hysterics, but the agony of reluctant tears, and the choking shudder, which I do not often under- go for fiction. This is but the second lime for any thing under reality: the first was on seeing Kean's Sir Giles Overreach. The worst was, that the ' Dama,' in whoso box I was, went off in the same way, I really believe more from fright than any other sympathy — at least with the players: but she has been ill and I have been ill, and we are all languid and pathetic this morning, with great expenditure of sal volatile. But, to return to your letter of the 23d of July. "You are right, Gilford is right, Crabbe is right, Hob- house is right — you are all right, and I am all wrong ; but do, pray, let me have that pleasure. Cut me up root and branch ; quarter me in the Quarterly ; send round my ' disjecti membra jweta^, 1 like those of the Levite's con- cubine ; make me if you will a spectacle to men and angels ; but do n't ask me to alter, for I won't : — I am obstinate and lazy — and there 's the truth. But, nevertheless, I will answer your friend Perrv, who objects to the quick succession of fun and gravity, as if in that case the gravity did not (in intention, at least) heighten the fun. His metaphor is, that 'we are never scorched and drenched at the same time.' Blessings on his expe- rience ! Ask him these questions bout 'scorching and drenching.' Did he never play at cricket, or walk a mile in hot weather? Did he never spill a dish of tea over himself in handing the cup to his charmer, to the great shame of his nankeen breeches? Did he never swim in the sea at noonday with the sun in his eyes and on his head, which all the foam of ocean could not cool? Did he never draw his foot out of too hot water, d — ning his eyes and his valet's ? * * * * Was he ever in a Turkish bath — that marble paradise of sherbet and * * ? Was he ever in a cauldron of boiling oil, like SL John? or in the sulphureous waves of h — I? (where he ought to be for his 'scorching and drenching at the same tune.') Did he never tumble into a river or lake, fishing, and sit in his wot clothes in the boat, or on the bank afterward, 'scorched and drenched,' like a true sportsman? 'Oh fur breath to utter V — but make him my Compliments; he is a clever fellow for all that — a very clever fellow. " You ask me for the plan of Donny Johnny: I have no plan ; I had no plan ; but I had or have materials ; though il~ lil;- 1 Tony Lumpkin, ' I am to be snubbed so when I am in spirits,' the poem will be naught, and the poet turn serious again. If it do n't take, I will leave it off where it is, with all due respect to the public; but if continued, it must be in my own way. You might as well made Hamlet (or Diggory) ' act mad' in a strait waistcoat as trammel mv buffoonery, if I am to be a buffoon : their gestures and my thoughts would only be pitiably absurd and ludicrously constrained. Why, man, the soul of such writing is its license ; at least the liberty of that license, if * Don JtlUj Canto XIV. Sunza 101. 140 LETTERS, 1819. one likes — -not that one should abuse it. It is like Trial by Jury ami Peerage and the Habeas Coqms — a very fine tiling, but chiefly in the reversiim ; because no one wishes U) be tried for the mere pleasure of proving his possession of the privilege. " Rut a truce with these reflections. You arc too earnest and eager about a work never intended to be serious. Do vou suppose that I could have any intention but to gig'jle and make giggle?— a playful satire, with U Hale poetry as could be helped, was whal I meant. And as to the indecency, do prav, read in Bosvrell whal Jokn- jrm, the sullen moralist, savs of Prim and Paulo Purgante. u Will vou get a favour done for me? You can, by your government friends, Croker, Canning, or my old id Mellow Peel, and I can't Here it is. Will you ask tin in to appoint [without salary or emolument) a noble Italian (whom 1 will name afterward] consul or vice- consul for Ravenna? He is a man of very large pro- perty — noble too; but lie wishes u, have a British protec- tion in case of changes. Ravenna is near the sea. He wants no emolument whatever. That his office might be useful, I know; as I lately sent off from Ravenna to Trieste a poor devil of an English sailor, who had re- mained there sick, sorry, and permyless (having been set ashore in 181-4,) from the want of any accredited a<'eni able or willing to help him homewards. Will you get this done ? If you do, I will then send his name and condition, subject of course to rejection, if rwt approved when known. " 1 know that in the Levant you make consuls and vice- consuls, perpetually, of foreigners. This man is a patri- cian, and has twelve thousand a year. His motive is a British protection in case of new invasions. Don't you think Croker would do it for us? To be sure, mv interest is rare I ! but perhaps a brother wil in the Tory Line might do a good turn at the request of SO harmless and long absent a Whig, particularly as there is no solan/ or burthen of any sort to be annexed to the office. "I can assure vou, I should look upon it as a great o' ligation; but, alas! that very circumstance may, very probablv, operate to the contrary — indeed, it ought ; but 1 have, at least, been an honest and an open enemy. Among your many splendid government connexions, could not you, think you, get our Bibulus made a Consul ? or make me one. that I may make him my Vice, Vou ina\ bo assured that, in case of accidents in Italy, he would be do fed!, adjunct — as you would think, if you knew his patri- mony. ■ What is all this about Tom Moore? but why do I ask? since the state of my own atlairs would not permit me to be of use to him, though they are greatly improved since 1816, and may, with some more tuck and a tittle prudence, become quite dear. It seems bis claimants are Amvican merchants? TViere goes Neman I Moore abused Ame- rica. It is always thus in die long run : — Time, (he Avenger. Vou have seen every trampler down, in turn, from Buonaparte to the simplest individuals. Vou saw how some were avenged even upon mv insignificance, and how in turn * * * paid for his atrocity. It is an odd world ; but the watch has its mainspring, after all. "So the Prince has been repealing Lord Kdward Fitz- gerald's forfeiture ? Eeco un aonsflb -' " To bn the father t.fUjt- IkUltrlen, ftc* • There, you dogs '■ there l B sonnet for you : you won't have such as that in a hurry from Mr. Fitzgerald. You may publish it with my name, an ye wool. He deserves all praise, bad and good ; it was a very noble piece of principality. Would you like an epigram — a translation? " If hr ailrrr, i»r for gold, You could melt ieo thousand i>lmpk* Into half ■ doxen illmplw, Then your face- we might bcfootd, Looking liuuhlle** much mirr »nu«lr, YtKvu tfien 't would boil d uglf. * See Rums, p. IS*. "This was written on some Frenchwoman, by RuJ- hieres, I believe. " Yours. 1 * LETTER CCCC. TO MR. MURRAY. "Bologna, August 23, 1819. "I send you a letter to Roberts, signed ' Wunley C!ut> terbuck,'* wliich you may publish in whal form von please, in answer to his article. I have had many proofs oi mens absurdity, but he beats all m folly. Why, the wolf in sheep's clothing has tumbled into the very trap! Well strip him. The letter is written in great haste, and amid ■ thousand vexations. Your letter only came yesterday so that there is no time to polish: the port goes out to-morrow. The date is * Little Pidlington.' Let • • - ■ correct the press; he knows and can read the handwrit ing. Continue to Keep the ORom/movJ about 'Juan;' it helps us to fighl againsl overwhelming numbers. I ha\e a thousand distractions at present , so excuse haste, and wonder I can act or write at all. Auswv-r by poet, as usual. * You ■ P. S. If I hail had time, and been quieter and nearer, 1 would have cut him to hash ; but as it L-. you can jud^e for yourselves." LETTER CCCCI. TO THE COUNTESS GU1CCIOI.A. [Written in the last page of her copy of Madame De Staffs "Comma." 1 ] ■My dearest Teresa, — I have read litis book in vonr garden ; — my love, you were absent, or else I could not have read it. It is a favourite buok of yours, and the writer was a friend of muie. You will Dot understand llie.-e. English words, and Othen will not understand them, — which is the reason 1 have not scrawled them in Italian. But you will recognise the handwriting of him who pas- sionately loved you, and you will divine (hat, over a hook which was yourSj he could only think of love. In that word, beautiful in all languages, but most so in yours — Amm mio — is comprised mv existence here and here- after. 1 feel 1 exist here, and I fear that I shall exist hereafter, — to what purpose you will decide ; my destiny rests with you, and you are a woman, eighteen years of age, and two out of a convent. I wish that you had stayi 1 there, with all mv heart, — or, at least, thai I had never met you in your married slate. ■ But all this is too late. I love you, and you love me, — at least, you sau so> and art as if you did so, winch la>t is a great consolation in ail events. Bui J more than |,,\r voi i, and i;iniiol n,i -e [o love you. "Think of I" ie. BOmetimeS] when die Alps and the ocean divide us, — hut they never will, unless you u i "B* ROM. "Bologna, August '^o, 1S19." LETTER CCCCII. TO MR. MURRAY. * Bologna, August 24, 1819. "I wrote to you by last post, enclosing a buffooning let- ter for publication, addressed to the bufibon Roberts, who has thought proper to tie a canister to his own tail. It was written oil-hand, and in Ute midst of circumstances not very favourable to facetiousness, so thai there may perhaps, be more bitterness than enough for that sort of small acid punch : — \ou will tell me. LETTERS, 1819. Ml "Keep the anonymous, in any case: it helps what fun there may be. B u it' the matter grows serious about Dm Juan, and von feel y>urxrtf in a scrape, or me either, own ''id f am the authjr. I will never sfuink ; and if you do, I can always answer vou in the question of Guatuno- zin to his minister — each being on his own coals.* u I wish that I had been in belter spirits ; but I am on! of sorts, out of nerves, and now and then (I begin to fear) out of mv senses. All this Italy has done for me, and Bel England. 1 defy all you, and your climate to boot, to make me mad. But if ever I do really become a bedla- mite, and wear a strait waistcoat, let me be brought back anions you; your people will then be proper company. u I assure vou what I here sav and feel has nothing to do with England, either in a literary or personal point of viex*. AH my present pleasures or plagues are as Italian as the opera. And afler all, they are but trifles; for ail this arises from my ' DamaV being in the country for thrne days, (at Capo-liume.) But as I could never li' but for one human being at a time, (and. I assure you, thai one has never been myself, as you may know by the con- sequences, for the se{ftsti are successful in life,) I feel alone anJ unhappy. " I have sent f< >r my daughter from Venice, and I rid daily, and walk in a garden, under a purple canopy of grapes, and sit by a fountain, and talk with the gardener of his tools, which seem greater than Adam's, and with his wife, and with his son's wife, who is the youngest of [he partv, and, I think, talks best of the three. Then I revisited the Campo Santo, and my old friend, the sexton, has two— but one the prettiest daughter imaginable ; and I amuse myself with contrasting her beautiful and inno- cent face of fifteen, with the skulls with which he has peopled several cells, and particularly with that of one skull dated 1766, which was once covered (the tradition goes) bv the most lovely features of Bologna — noble and rich. When I look at these, and at this girl — when I think of what they viere, and what she must be — why, then, my dear Murray, I won't shock you by saying what I think. It is liitte matter what becomes of us ' bearded men,' but I d i n't like the notion of a beautiful woman's lasting less than a beautiful tret* — than her own picture — her own shadow, winch won't change so to the sun as her face to the mirror. — I must leave off, for mv head aches con- sunv-dlv. I have never heen quite well since the night of the represcniauon of Alfieri's Mirra, a fortnight ago. "Yours ever." LETTER CCCCIIT. TO MR. MURRAY. " B -lngna, August 29, 1819. * I have been in a rage these two days, and am still bilious therefrom. You shall hear. A captain of dra- goons, * +, Hanoverian by birth, in the Papal troops at present, whom I had obliged by a loan when nobody wouid lend him a paul, recommended a horse to me, on Bale bv a Lieutenant * *, an officer who unites the sale <r the obituary. "Now, prav, 'Sir Lucius, do not you look upon me as a very ill-used gentleman? 1 I send my Lieutenant to match IUr. Hobhouses Ivlajor Cartwright: and so 'good morrow to you, good master Lieutenant.' With regard to other tilings, I will write soon, but I have been quarrelling and fooling till I can scribble no more." LETTER CCCCIV TO MR. HOPPNER. «October22, 1819. w 1 am glad to hear of your return, but I do not know how to congratulate you — unless you think differently ol Venice from what I think now, and you thought always. I am, besides, about to renew your troubles by requesting you to be judge between Mr. Edgecombe and myself in a small matter of imputed peculation and irregular. 112 LETTERS, 1819. accounts on the part of that phoenix of secretaries. As I knew that you had not parted friends, at the Buna time that / refused for my own pari any judgment hut yours, 1 offered him his choice of any person) the least scoundrel native to be found in Venice, as his own umpire; but he expressed himself so convinced «>f your impartiality, thai he declined any but you. This is in his favour.— The paper wiihin will explain to you the default in his accounts; Vou will hear his explanation, and deride, if it so please you. I shall not appeal from the decision. "As he complained that liis salary was insufficient, I determined to have Ins accounts examined, and the en- closed was the result. — It is all in black and white with documents, and I have despatched Fletcher to explain (or rather to perplex) the matter. " I have had much civility and kindness from Mr. Dor- ville during your journey, and I thank him accordingly. "Your letter reached rnc at your departure,* and dis- pleased me very much: — not that it might not be true in .(> statement and kind in its intention, hut you have lived lot en iugh to Know how useless all such representations ever are and must he in cases where the passions are concerned. To reason with men in such a situation is like reasoning with a drunkard in bis cups — the only answer you will get from lum is that he is sober, and you are drunk. " Upon that subject we will (if you like) be silent. You might only say what would distress me without answering any purpose whatever; and 1 have too many obligations to you to answer vou in the same style. So that vou should recoiled that you have also that advan- tage over me. I hope to see you soon. "1 suppose you know that they said at Venice, that I was arrested at Bologna as a Carbonaro — a story about as true as their usual conversation. Moore has been here — I lodged him in my house at Venice, and went to see him daily ; but I could not at that time quit I. a Mira entirely. You and I were not verv far from meeting in Switzerland, With my best respects to Mrs. Hoppner, believe me ever and truly, Sic. ■ I J . S, Allegra is here in good health and spirits — I shall keep her with me till I go to England, which will perhaps be in the spring. It has just occurred to me that you may not perhaps like to undertake the office of judge between Mr. Kdgecombe and your humble servant. — Of course, as Mr. Listen (the comedian, not the ambassador) says, ' it u all hoptional? but I have no other resource. I do not wish to lit id him a rascal, if it can be avoided, and would rather think him guilty of carelessness than cheat- ing. The case is this — can I, or not, give him a character for honesty? — It is not my intention to continue bun in inv service." LETTER CCCCV. TO MR. HOPPHER. "October 36, 1819. ■You need not have made any excuses about the let- ter ; 1 never said but that you might, could, should, or would have reason. 1 merely described my own state of inaptitude to listen to it at that time, and m those circum- si.in.es. Besides, you did not speak from jour own authority — but from what you said you had heard. Now my blood Boils to hear an Italian speaking ill of another Italian, because, though they lie in particular, thev sp< ok • Mr. Hoppner, before hl« departure from Venice for Switzerland, had written h letter lo Lord Byron, entreating him "to leave Ravenna, while vei he nod a whole oliiti, and urging him Dot t« n*k ihe Mifety ol n person he appeared no ftneorely atU< MM to— M well n» hi* own— lor the i of a momentary paulon, which could only tie * tource o( i. .iii partte*." fnthenme letter .Mr. Hoppnar Informed lum of mim reporU be h*d heard Lately at Venice, which. Uiough jraaajhly, he utd, unrounded, bad much [ncreeeed liia anxiety wipMting the coo. •t.j'KiiLti ui ike connexion formed by him.— Moure. truth n general by speaking ill at all — and although j-ey know that they are trying and wishing to lie, they do not BUCOeed, merely because they can say nothing so bad of each other, that it may not, and must not be true from tho atrocity of their long-debased national character. " W ith regard to Kdgecombe, you will perceive a most DTegalar, extravagant account, without proper documents to support it. He demanded an increase of salary, which made me suspect him; he supported an outrageous extra* ragance of expenditure, and did not like the duraissioo of the cook: he never complained of him — as in duty bound — at the time of liis robberies. I can only say, that die house expense is now under urn-half of what it then was, as he himself admits. lie charged for a comb eJgA&HH francs, — the real price wsetgfU. lie charged a passage from Kusina for a person named lambclli, who paid it herself, as she will prove, it' necessary. He fancies, or asserts himself^ the viciim of a domestic complol against him; — accounts are accounts — prices are prices; — let lum make out a fair detail. / am not prejudiced against him — on the contrary, I supported him against tin com- plaintB of bis wife, and of ins former master, at ■ lime when 1 could have crushed him like an earwig, and if he is a scoundrel, he is tbe greatest of scoundrels, an un- grateful one. The truth is, probably, that be thought 1 was having Venice, and determined to make the moat of it. At present he keeps bringing in account after oooount, though he had always money in hand — as I believe jWU know my system was never to allow longer than a wi I tkH bills to run. Pray read him this letter — I desire nothing to be concealed against which he may defend himself. "Pray how is your little boy? and how are you — I shall be up in Venice very soon, and we will be bili ius together. I hate the place and all that it inherits. ■ Yours, kcT LETTER CCCCVI. TO MR. HOPPNER. "October 28 J 819. + + ****** "I have to thank you for your letter, and your com pliment to Don Juan. I said nothing to you about it, understanding that it is a sore subject with the moral reader, and has been the cause of a great row ; hut I am glad you like it. I will say nothing about the ahipwret It, except that 1 hope you think it is as nautical and technical as verse could admit in the octave measure. "The poem has not sold well, so Murray says — 'but the best |odges, &c. sav, &c.' so says that worthy man. I have never seen it in |wint. The Third Canto is in advance about one hundred stanzas; but the failure of the fin) two. has weakened my estro, and it will neither be so good as the former two, nor completed, unless I get a little more risrnliiato iii its behalf.* I understand the outcry was beyond every thing. — Pretty cant for people who read Tom Jones, and Roderick Random, and the Bath Guide and AriostQ) and Dryden, and Pope — to say nothing of Tattle's Poems. Of course I refer to the inorulUu of these works, and not lo any prelansion of mine to compete with them in am thing but decency. 1 hope yours is the Pans edition, and that you did not pay the London price. I have seen neither except in the newspapers, "Pray nuke my respects to Mrs. H. and take care of your little boy. AH my household have the fever and ■ , except Fletcher, Allegra, and mysm, (as we used to say in iS'ottinghamshire,) and the horses, and Mutz, and Morelto. In the beginning of November, perhaps sooner L expect to have the pleasure of toeing you. To-day I got drenched by a thunder-storm, and my horse and groom too, and his horsa all bemired up to the middle in a cross*- LETTERS, 1819. 143 road. It was summer, al noon, and at five we were bewinlered; but the lightning was sent perhaps to let us know that the summer was not yet over. It is queer weather for the 27th of October. "Yours. &c." LETTER CCCCVII. TO MR. MURRAY. "Venice, October 29, 1S19. ■Yours of the 15th came yesterday. I am sorry that you do not mention a large letter addressed to your care for Lady Byron, from me, at Bologna, two months ago. Pray tell me was this letter received and forwarded? ■ You say nothing uf the vice-consulate for the Ravenna patrician, from which it is to be inferred that the thing will not be done. "I had written about a hundred stanzas of a Third Canto to Don Juan, but the reception of the first two is no encouragement to you nor me to proceed. "I had also written about six hundred lines of a poem, the Vision (or Prophecy) of Dante, the subject a view of Italy in the ages down to the present — supposing Dante to speak in his own person, previous to his death, and embracing all topics in the way of prophecy, like Lyco- phron's Cassandra; but this and the other are both al a stand-still for the present. " I gave Moore, who is gone to Rome, my life in MS. in 78 folio sheets, brought down to 1816. But this' I put into his hands for his care, as he has some other MSS. <>t mine — a Journal kept in 1814, &c. Neither are for pub- lication during my life, but when I am cold, you may do what you please. In the mean time, if you like to read them you may, and show them to any body you like — I care not. " The Life is Memoranda, and not Confessions. I have left out all my loves, (except in a general way,) and manv other of the most important things, (because I must not compromise other people,) so that it is like the play of Hamlet — ( The part of Hamlet omitted by particular desire.' But you will find many opinions, and some fun, with a detailed account of my marriage and its conse- quences, as true as a party concerned can make such account, for I suppose we are all prejudiced. * I have never read over this Life since it was written, so that I know not exactly what it may repeat or contain. Moore and I passed some merry days together. * * * * * * * * ■ I probably must return for business, or in my way to America. Pray, did you get a letter for Hobhouse, u l.o will have told you the contents ? I understand that the Venezuelan commissioners had orders to treat with emi- grants ; now I want to go there. I should not make a bad South American planter, and I should take my natural daughter, Allegra, with me, and settle. I wrote, at length, to Hobhouse, to get information from Perry, who, 1 BUp> pose, is the best topographer and trumpeter of the new republicans. Pray write. "Yours, ever. "P. S. Moore and I did nothing but laugh. He will \ell you of 'my whereabouts, 1 and all my proceedings at Jlis present; they are as usual. You should not let those fellows publish false ' Don Jvians ;' but do not put my name, because I mean to cut Roberts up like a gourd in the pre- face, if I continue the poem.'' LETTER CCCCVIH. TO MR. HOPPNKR. "October 29, 1819. "The Ferrara story is of a piece with all the rest of the Venetian manufacture,* — you may judge : 1 oulv changed horses there since I wrote to you, after my visit in June last. Convent} and 'carry offl quotha! and 1 gitV I should like to know ivhv has been carried ulf, except poor dear me. I have been more ravished myself than any body since the Trojan war; but as to thj arrest, and its causes, one is as true as the other, and I can account for the invention of neither. I suppose it is some confusion of the tale of the Fornaretta and of Me. Guiccioli, and half a dozen more; but it is useless to unravel the web, when one has only to brush it away. I shall settle with Master E., who looks very blue at your in-decision, and swears that he is the best aridimetician in Europe; and s.o I think also, for he makes out two and two to be five. * You may see me next week. I have a horse or two more, (five in all,) and I shall repossess myself of Lido and I will rise earlier, and we will go and shake our livers over the beach, as heretofore, if you like — and we will make the Adriatic roar again with uur hatred of that now empty oyster-shell, without its pearl, the city of Venice. " Murray sent me a letter yesterday : the impostors have published two new Tldrd Cantos of Don Juan:— the devil take the impudence of some blackguard book* seller or other there/or.' Perhaps I did not make myself understood ; he told me the sale had been great, 1200 out of 1500 quarto, I believe, (which is nothing, after, selling 13,000 of the Corsair in one day ;) but that the { best judges,' &c. had said it was very fine, and clever, and par- ticularly good English, and poetry, and all those consola- tory things, which are not, however, worth a single copy to a bookseller : and as to the author, of course I am in a d — ned passion at the bad taste of the times, and swear there is nothing like posterity, who, of course, must know more of the matter than their grandfathers. There has been an eleventh commandment to the women not to read it, and what is still more extraordinary, they seem not to have broken it. But that can be of little import to them, poor things, for the reading or non-reading a book will never * * * * * * "Count G. comes to Venice next week, and I am re- quested to consign his wife to him, which shall be done * * * What you say of the long even- ings at the Mira, or Venice, reminds me of what Curran said to Moore: — 'So I hear you have married a pretty woman, and a very good creature, too — an excellent crea- ture. Pray — urn! — how do you pass your evenings?* It is a devil of a question that, and perhaps as easy to answer with a wife as with a mistress. 8 JT you go to Milan, pray leave at least a Vice-Consul — the only vice that will ever be wanting at Venice. D'Orville is a good fellow. But you shall go to England in the spring with me, and plant Mrs. Hoppner at Berne with her relations for a few months. I wish you had been here (at Venice, I mean, not the Mira) when Moore was here — we were very merry and tipsy. He hated Venice by-the-way, and swore it was a sad place . "So Madame Albrizzi's death is in danger — poor wo- man ! * * * * * * Moore told me that at Geneva they had made a devil of a story of the Fornaretta : — * Young lady seduced ! — sub- sequent abandonment! — leap into (he Grand Canal!* — and her being in the ' hospital of fous in consequence ? I should like to know who was nearest being made '/on,' and be d d to them! Don't you think me in the interesting character of a very ill-used gentleman? I hope your little boy is well. Allegrina is flourishing like a pomegranate blossom. "Yours, ice" LETTER CCCCIX. TO MR. MURRAY. " Venice, November 8, 1819. "Mr. Hoppner has lent me a copy uf ' Don Juan, 1 Paris 144 LETTERS, 1819. edition, which he tells roe is read in Switzerland by clergy- men and ladies, with couiiderable approbation. In the Second Canto, you roust alter the 40th stanza to " 'T wa» twilight, and the »unlfM day sent down O.er the VBftcM «■!«■, likr (I «t] v\ i if withdrawn would buldiacloM Ibi frown Oi DIM whoM h»le it inask'il bill M) Uull , Ttnn to their liopcleM eyei Uie night wa» »lr her health and (he prescriptions of Dr. Agfietti) with a paper of condiu ins, regulations of boors, and conduct, and morals, &c. &c.&e. which he insists on her accepting, and she persists in refusing. I am expressly, it should seem, excluded hy this treaty, as an indispensable pre- liminary; so that they are in high dissension, and what the result may be, I know not, particularly as they are consulting friends. "To-night, as Countess Guiccioli observed me pnrini' over 'Don Juan,' she stumbled hy mere chance on the 137th stanza of the First Canto, and asked me what it meant I told her, 'Nothing — hut "your husband is coming." ' As I said this in Italian with some emphasis, she started up in a fnght, and said, ' Oft, my God,U he coming? thinking it was hr men, who either was or might to have been at the theatre. You may suppose we laughed when she found out the mistake. You will be amused, as I was ; — it happened not three hours ago. "I wrote to you last week, but have added nothing to the Third Canto since my fever, nor to 'The Prophecy of Dame' Of the former there are about a hundred octaves done ; of the latter about five hundred lines — per- haps more. Moore saw the Third Juan, as far as it then went. I do not know if my fever will let me go on with either, and the tertian lasts, they say, a good while. I had it in Malta on my way home, and the malaria fever in t fa ece the year before that. The Venetian is not very fierce, but I was delirious one of the nights with it, for an hour or two, and, on my senses coming hack, bund Fletcher sobbing on one side of the bed, and I, a Contessa Guiccioli weeping on the other; so that I had no want of attendance. I have not yet taken any physician, hecaus though I think they may relieve in chronic disorders, such as gout and the like, &c. Sir. &c. (though they can't cure them) — just as surgeons are necessary to set bones and tend wounds — yet I think fevers quite out of their reach, and remediable only by diet and nature. a I don't like the laste of bark, but I suppose thai 1 must take it soon. "Tell Rose that somebody at Milan (an Atetrian, Mr. Hoppncr savs) is answering his book. William Bankes is in quarantine at Trieste. I have not lately heard from yon. Excuse this paper: it is long paper shortened for the occasion. What folly is this of < 'arlile's trial ? why et him have the honours of a martyr ? it will only advert Use the books in question. * Tours, &c. "P. S. As I tell you that the Guiccioli busmen is on the eve of exploding in one way or the other, I will just ndd, that without attempting to influence the decision of the Contessa, a good deal depends upon it. If she and her husband make it up, you will perhaps s,.«. m e in Eng- land sooner than you expect. If not, I shall retire with * Corrected n tin* etKUon. her to France or America, change my name, and toad a quiet provincial life. All ihia may seem odd, but I have got ihe poor girl into a scrape; and as n< iiher hi nor her rank, nor her connexions by birth or nmi re uifenor to mv own, I am in honour bond to support her through. Besides, she is a very pretty woman — ask IVloore — and not yet one-anoVtwenty a ■ If she gets over this, and 1 gel over ni tertian, I "ill perhaps look in at Albemarle-otreet, some -t these days, ni pitsaont to Bolivar. LETTER CCCCX. TO MB. BANKES. "Venice, November 20, 1819. H A tertian ague which has troubled me for some lime, and the indispositbn of my daughter, have prevented me from replying before to your welcome letter. I have not been ignoram of your progress nor Of your discoveries, and I trust that yoti are no worse in health from your labours. You may rely upon noting every body in Eng- land eager to reap the fruits of them; and as you have done more than other nun, 1 hope you will not limit your- self to Shying less than may do justice to the talents and tune vou have bestowed on your perilous researches. The first sentence of mv letter "iU have explained to you why I cannot join vou at Trieste. I was on the point of setting out for England, (before 1 knew of your arrival,) when my child's illness has made her and me dependent on a. Venetian Proto-Medieo. H It is now seven years since you and I met ; — which time you have employed better for others, and more honourably fur yourself! than I have done. "In England you will find considerable chanscs, public and private, — vou will see some of our old college con- temporaries turned into lords of ihe treasury, admiralty and ihe like, — others become reformers and orator-, — many settled in life as H is called, — and others settled in death; among the latter (by-the-way, not our fellow-col- legians,) Sheridan, Curran. Lady Melbourne, Monk Lewis, Frederick Douglas, fee. &c. fee.; but vou wiB still find Mr. * * living and all bis fauuy, as also * "Sho ild vou come up this way. and I am still hero, vou need not be assured how glad I shall be to see vou \ I long to hear some part, from you, of that which I expect in no long time to see. A* length you have had better fortune than any Traveller of equal enterprise, (except Humboldt,) hi returning safe; and af'ei the fate of the BrowneSjOnd the Parkes, and the Burckharrlts, it is hardly less surprise than sati- faction to get you back again. "Believe Hie ever B and very affectionately vours, ■Byron. 1 LETTER CCCCXI. TO MB. Mt'KHAV. "Venice, Dee. 4, 1819. "You may do as vou please, but you are about a hops- .ess experiment.* Eldon will decide againsi you, were u only that mv name is ui the record. Vou will also rt. oi- led that if the publication is pronounced against, on "V grounds you mention, as infttccnt ant I Nuxphrmtms, that / loso all right in my daughter's gvonaonsfttp and oducation, in short, all paternal aumorily, and every thing concerning her, except * * Mr HffurfrnvnadeomMiiccdi MihHatnm London i* okiHlrr. for m lii(rlM«srawil U h»« euyynslit, In (mljUl.u.g » postwl edition r.( Doo LETTERS, 1810. 1-15 It was so decided in She lley's case, because he had writ- ten Q,ueen Mab, &c. &c. However you can ask the. lawyers, and do as you like: I do not inhibit you trying the question; I merely slate one of the consequences to me. With regard io the copyright, it is hard thai you should pay for a nonentity. I will therefore refund it, which I can very well do. not having spent it, nor began npon it ; and so we will be quite on that score. It lies at my banker's. " I tf lite Chancellor's law I am no judge ; but take up Tom Jones, and read his Mrs. Waters and Molly Sea- grim; 01 Priorii Elans Carvel and Paulo Purganti \ Smol- lett's Roderick Random, the chapter of Lord StrutweD, and manv others; Peregrine Pickle, the scene of the Beggar Girl; Johnson's ijmdon, for coarse expressions; fir instance, the words ' * *,' and * * * ;' Anstey's Bath Guide, the 'Hearken, Lady Betty, hearken;' — take up, in short, Pope, Prior, Cougreve, Drvden, Fielding Smol- lett, and let the Counsel select passages, and what be- comes of their copyright, if his Wat Tyler decision is to pass into a precedent? 4 I have nothing more to say; you must judge for yourselves. c I wrote to you some time a°,o. I have had a tertian ague; mv daughter Allesra has been ill also, and I have been almost obliged to run away with a married woman; but with some difficulty, and many internal struggles, I reconciled the Lady with her lord, and cured the fever of the child with bark, and my own with cold water. I think of setting out fir Kn«jland by the Tyrol in a few days, so that [ could wish you to direct your next letter to Calais. Excuse mv writing in great haste and late in the mom- ins, or night, whichever you please to call it. The Third Canto of 'Don Juan' is completed, in about two hundred stanzas; very decent, I believe, but do not know, and it is useless to discuss until it be ascertained, if it may or may not be a property. "My present determination to quit Itatv was unlocked for; but I have explained the reasons in letters to my sister and Douglas Kinnaird, a week or two ago. My progress will depend upon the snows of the Tyrol, and he health of my child, who is at present quite recovered; -but I hope to get on well, and am " Yours every and truly. ft P. S. Many thanks for your letters, to which you are not to consider this as an answer, but as an acknowled roent." LETTER CCCCXII. TO TltE COUNTESS GUtCCIOLI. c You are, and ever will be, my first thought. But at this moment, I am in a state most dreadful, not know- ing which way to decide ; — on the one hand, fearing that I should compromise you for ever, by my return to R venna and die consequences of such a step, and, on the other, dreading that I shall lose both you and myself, and all that I have ever known or tasted of happiness, by never seeing vou more. I pray of you, I implore you to be enmforted, and to believe that I cannot cease to love you but with my rife." * * * + " I go to save you, and leave a country insupportable to me with- out you. Your letters to F * * and myself do wrong to my motives — but you will yet see your injustice. It is not enough that I mu^f leave you — from motives of which ere long you will be convinced — it is not enough that I must fly from Italv, with a heart deeply wounded, after having passed all my days in solitude since your depar- ture, sick both in body and mind — but I must also have to endure vour reproaches without answering and without deserving them. Farewell! — in that one word is com- prised the death of ray happiness." LETTER CCCCXHI. TO THE COUNTESS GUICCIOLI. up * * * W) -|i already have told vou, with hrr obocus- tomed stihiimilify thai Love has gained the victory. I could not summon Up resolution enough to leave the country where you are, without, at least, once more seeing you. On ifourxtif, perhaps, it will depend, whether 1 ever again shall leave vou. Of the rest we shall speak when we meet. You ought, by this time, to know which is most eon lucive 'o your welfare, my presence or my absence. For mvself, I am a citizen of the world — all countries are alike io me. You have ever been, since our first acquaint- ance, tfu sole otyect of my thoughts. Mv opinion was, that the be^l course I could adopt, both for your peace and thai of all yout family, would have been to depart and go far,/ar awav from you ; — since to have been near and not approach vou would have been, for me, impossible. You have however decided that I am to rcjurn to Ravenna. I shall accordingly return — and shall do — and 6eall that you wish. I cannot say more." LETTER CCCCXIV. TO MR. HOPPNER. "MY DEAR HOPPXER, "Parting are but bitter work at best, so that I shall not venture on a second with you. Pray make my respects to Airs. Hoppner, and assure her of my unalterable rever- ence for the singular goodness of her disposition, which is not without its reward even in this world — for those who are no great believers in human virtues would discover enough in her to give them a better opinion of their fellow- creatures, and — what is still more difficult — of themselves, as being of the same species, however inferior in approach* its nobler models. Make, too, what excuses you can for my omission of the ceremony of leave-taking. If we all meet again, I will make my humblest apology : if not, recollect that 1 wished you all well : and, if you can, for- get that 1 have given you a great ileal of trouble. " Tours, &c. Sac " LETTER CCCCXV. TO MR. MURRAY. • See Letter bttl. 13 "Venice, December 10, 1919. a Since I last wrote, I have changed my mind, and shall not come to England. The more I contemplate, the more I dislike the place and the prospect. You may therefore address to me as usual /irr reformer, and I greatly fear, will sub- side into Newgate; since the Honourable House, accord- ing to Galignanis Reports of Parliamentary Debates, are menacing a prosecution to a pamphlet of his. I shall be very sorry to hear of any tiling but good for him, par- ticularly in these miserable squabbles; but these are the natural effects of taking a part in them. "For my own part, I hail a sad scene since you went. Count Gu. came for his wife, and none of those conse- quences which Scott prophesied ensued. There was no damages, a^ in England, and so Scott lost his wager. Bui there was a great scene, for she woyld not, at first, go back with him — at least, she did go back with him- but he insisied, reasonably enough, thai aJ communication should be broken off between her and me. So, rinding Italy very dull, and having a fever tertian, I packed up my valise and prepared to cross the Alps ; but my daugh- ter fell ill, and detained me,- "After her arrival at Ravenna, the Guiccioli fell ill again too ; and, at last her father (who had, all along, op- posed the liaison most violently till now) wrote to me to say that she was in such a state that he begged me to come and see her, — and tliat her husband had acquiesced in consequence of her relapse, and that he (her father) would guarantee all this, and that there would be no far- ther scenes in consequence between them, and that I should not be compromised in any way- I set out soon af er, and have been here ever since. I fo-jnd her a "ood deal altered, but getting better: — all ibis comes of reading Connna. R The Carnival ts about to begin, and I saw about two LETTERS, 1820. 147 or three hundred people a; the Marquis Cavalli's the other evening, with as much youth, beauty, and diamonds among the women, as ever averaged in the like number. My appearance in wailing on the Guiccioli was considered as a thing of course. The Marquis is her uncle, and natu- rally considered me as her relation. M The paper is out, and so is the letter. Pray write Address to Wiucc, whence the letters will be forwarded H Yours, &c. "B." LETTER CCCCXVIIL TO MR. HOPPIfER. Ravenna, January 20, 1820. B I have not decided any thing about remauung at Ra- venna. I may slay a day, a week, a year, all my life ; but all this depends upon what I can neither see nor foresee. I came because I was called, and will go the moment thai 1 perceive what may render my departure proper. My attachment haa neither the blindness of the beginning, nor the microscopic accuracy of ths close to such liaisons ; but ' time and the hour' must decide upon what I do. I can as yet say nothing, because I hardly know any thing beyond what I have told you. "I wrote lo vou la^t post for my moveables, as there is no getting a lodging with a chair or table here reaJv ; and as t have already some things of the sort at Bologna which I had last summer there f right 'bat a man of ho- oour, and a woman of probity, should find it so, particu- larly in a place where there are not ' ten righteous. 1 As iiy — in England none are strictly noble but peers, not even peers 9 sons, though titled by courtesy ; nor knights of the carter, unless of the peerage, so i hat Castl< himself would hardly pass through a foreign herald's or- deal till the death of his father. "The snow is a fooJ deep here. There is a theatre, and opera, — the Barber of Seville. Balls be sin on Monday ■est. Pav the porter for never looking after the gafe, anil *hip my chattels, and let me know, or let Castelli let me know, bow my lawsuits go on — but fee him only in pro- portion lo his success. Perhaps we may meet in the spring vet, if you are for England. I see Hobhouse has got into a scrape, which d<>es not please me ; he should not have gone so deep among those men, witlwut calculat- ing the consequences. I used to think myself the most imprudent of all among my friends and acquaintances, but almost begin to doubt il. K Yours &c." LETTUR CCCCXIX. TO MR. HOPPSER. "Ravenna, January 31, 1820. * Vou would hardly have been troubled with the remo- val of mv furniture, but there is none to be had nearer than Bologna, and I have been fain to have that of the rooms which I fitted up for my daughter there in the summer re- moved here. The expense will be at least as great of the land carriage, so that you see it was necessity, and not choice. Here they get even.' thing from Bologna, except some lighter articles from Forli or Faenza. ■ If 0cott is returned, pray remember me to him. and plead laziness the whole and sole cause of my not reply- ing: — dreadful is the exertion of letter- writing. The Carnival here is less boisterous, but we have balls and a theatre. I earned Bankes lo both, and he carried away, I believe, a much more favourable impression of the society here than of thai of Venice — recollect that I speak of the native society only. " I am drilling very hard to learn how to double a shawl, and should succeed to admiration if I did not always dou- ble it the wrong side out ; and then I sometimes confuse and bring away two, so as to put all the Servenu" out, be- sides keeping their Smite hi die cold till even- body can get back their property. But it is a dreadfully moral place, for you must not look at any body's wife except your neighbour's, — if vou go to the next door but one, you are scolded, and presumed to be perfidious. And theD a relazione or an amicizia seems to be a regular affair of from five lo fifteen years, at which period, if there occur a widowhood, it finishes by a sposalizio ; and in the mean lime, it has so many rules of its own that it is not much better. A man actually becomes a piece of female pro perty, — they won't let their Servenu marry until there is a vacancy for themselves. I know two instances of this in one family here. * To-night there was a — * Lottery after the opera : it is an odd ceremony. Bankes and I took tickets of it, and buffooned together very merrily. He is gone to Firenze. Airs. J * * should have sent you my postscript ; there was no occasion to have bored you in person. I never interfere in any body's squabbles, — she may scratch your face herself. " The weather here has been dreadftd — snow several feet — a Jhtme broke down abridge, and flooded heaven knows how many eampi ; then rain came — and it is still thawing — so that my saddle-horses have a sinecure till the roads become more practicable. "Why did Lega give away the goat ? a blockhead — I must have him again. " Will you pay Missiaglia and the Buffo Buffini of the Gran Bre agna. I heard from Moore, who is at Paris; I had previously written lo him in London, but he has not yet got mv letter, apparently. "Believe me, &c" LETTER CCCCXX. TO MR. MURRAY. " Ravenna, February 7, 1620 * I have had no letter from you these two months : but since I came here in December, 1819, I sent you a letter for Moore, who is, God knows where — in Paris or London, I presume. I have copied and cut the Third Canto of Don Juan into two, because it was too long: ; and I tell you this beforehand, because in case of any reckoning between vou and me, these two are only to go for one, as this was the original firm, and, in fact, the two together are not longer than one of the first : so remember that I have not made this division to double upon you ; but merely to sup- press some tediousness in the aspect of the thing. I should have served you a pretty trick if I had sent you, for example, cantos of 50 stanzas each. " I am translating the First Canto of Pulci's Morgante Maggiore, and have half done it ; but these last days of the Carnival confuse and interrupt every thing. "I have not yet sent off the Cantos, and have some doubt whether they ought to be published, for they have not the spirit of the first. The outcry has not frightened but it has hurt me, and I have not written con amore this time. It is very decent, however, and as dull as ' the last new comedy.' * I think my translations of Pulci will make you stare. 1 The word Here, being under ibe ie*l, ii illegible 148 It must be put by the original, stanza for stanza, and verse for verse ; ami you will see what was permitted in a Ca- tholic country and a bigoted age to a churchman, on the score of religion ; — and so tell those buffoons who accuse me of attacking the Liturgy. " 1 write in the greatest haste, it being 'he hour of the Corso, and I must go and buffoon with (he rest. My daughter Allcgra is just gone with the Countess G. in Count G.'s coach and sue, to join, the cavalcade, and 1 must follow with all the rest of the Ravenna world. Our eld Cardinal is dead, and ihe new one nol appointed yet ; but the masking goes on the same, the vice-legate being ■ good governor. We have had hideous frost and snow, hut all is mild again, u Yours, &c." LETTERS, 1820. LETTER CCCCXKI. TO MR. BAXKES. "Ravenna, February 19, 1820. « 1 have room for ybu in the bouse here, as I had in Venice, If you dunk tit to make use of it ; but do nol ex- p<-et tn find ili»- same t;.>r^*'..us suite of tapestried balls. Neither dangers nor tropical beats have ever prevented your penetrating wherever you had a mind to it, and why should the snow now '. — Italian snow — fie on it ! — so pray come. Tita's heart yearns for you, and mayhap for your silver broad pieces ; and your playfellow, the monkey, is alone and inconsolable. " I forget whether you admire or tolerate red hair, so thai I rather dread showing you all that 1 have about me and around me in this city. Come, nevertheless, — you can pay Dante a morning visit, and I will undertake that Theodore and Honoris will be most happy to see you in the forest bard by. vVeGoths, also, of Ravenna hope you will not despise our arch-Goth, Theodoric. I must leave it to these worthies to entertain you all the fore pah of the day, seeing that I have none at all myself— the lark, thai rouses me from my slumbers, being an afternoon bird. Bur, then, all your evenings, and as much as you can give me of your nights, will be mine. Ay ! and you will find me eating flesh, too, like yourself or any other cannibal, except it he upon Fridays. Then, there are more Cantos (and be *\—d to them) of what th< coup- (runs t. ,; | .t. Mr. Saunders, rails Grub-Street, m my drawer, which I have a lii'.ie scheme to commit to your lor England; only [ must first cut up (or cut down) two aforesaid * Jantosinto three, because I am grown base and mercenary, and it is an ill precedent to let my Mecsenas, Murray, gel too much for his money. I am busy, also, with Pulci — translating — servilely translating, Stanza lor stanza, and line for line — two octaves every night, - the same allowance as at Venice. ■ Would you call at your banker's at Bologna, and ash him for some Letters Lying there for me, and burn them .' — or 1 will — so do not bum them, hut bring them, — and be- lieve me ever and very affectionately ■ Yours, tt Byron. " P. s. I have a particular wish to hear from yourself something about Cyprus, so pray recollect all that you can.— Good night." LETTER CCCCXXII. TO MR. MURRAY. "Ravenna, Feb. 21, 1820. "The hull-dogs will be very agreeable. 1 haw only those of this country, who, though good, have not the tena- city of tooth and stoicism in endurance of my canine fel- low-citizens : then pray send them by the readiest con- • BmOoiiJiiui, Cut^Iir.SunM 1 veyance — perhaps best by sea. Mr. Kinnaird will dis- burse fir them, and deduct from the amount on your ap- plication or thai of Captain Tyler. M see the good old King is gone to his place. Om» can't help being sorry, (hough blindness, and age, and in- anity arc supposed to be drawbacks on human felicity ; but lain not at all sure that the latter at least might not render him happier than any ol'ln- suhjeet*. u I haw no thoughts oCcoming to the coronatmn, i 1 I should tike to see it, and though I have a right U i puppet in it; but my division widi Lady Byron, which has drawn an eouinociial line between tne and mine in all other things, will operate in this also to prevent my being in the same procession. - I's Saturday's post 1 sent you f mr packets, contain- ing Cantos Third aitd Fourth. Recollect that these two cantos reckon only as one with you ami me, being in fact the third canto cut into two, because (found it loo long. Reme mbe r linajand da n't imagine that than could be any othi i in ol ivr. The whole is about £££ saigas, more a and a lyric of 96 tines, so that they are no longer than lh< first single CantOS : but the truth IS, that 1 made the first tOO long, and should have cut those down also had I thought better. Instead of saying In future lor so many cantos, say so many stanzas or pages : it was Jacob Ton- -oiTs way, and certainly tin- bust ; it prevents mistakes. I might have sent vou a do?rn cantos, of JO stanzas eacli, — those of ' The Minstrel' (Beattkrs) are do longer,-— and ruined you at once, if you do n't suffer as it is. But recollect that you are not piiimd duum to any thing you say in a letter, ami that, calculating even these two cantos as tutt only (which they wen and are to be reckoned,) you are not bound by your offer. Act as may seem fail to all parties. "I have finished mv translation of the First Canto of the 'Morgante Majrgiore' of Pulci, which I will transcribe and send. It IS the parent, DOt Onlj of Whtstk-crafl, but of all jocose Italian poetry. You must print it side by side with the original Italian, because I wish the reader to judge of the fidelity: it is stanza for stanza, and often line for line, if not word for word. "You ask me for a volume of manners, &c. on Italy. Perhaps I am in the case to know mure of then than most Englishmen, because I have lived among the na- tives, and in parts of the country where Englishmen never resided before (I speak of Romagna and this place particularly ;) but there are many reasons why I do not choose to treat in print on such a subject. I have lived in their houses and in the heart of their families, sometimes merely as ( amicodi casa, 1 and sometimes as'amicodi cuore' of the Dama, and in neither case do I feci invs-lf authorized in making a hook of them. Their moral is not your moral ; their life is not your life ; you »< oU not understand it ; it is not English, nor French, ikt German, which VOU would all understand. The conventual edu- cation, the cavalier servitude, the habits of thought and Irving arc so entirely different, and the difference becomes bo much more striking the more you live intimately with them, that I know not how to make you comprehend a people who arc at once temperate and profligate, serious in their characters and buffoons in their amusements, capable of impressions and passions, which are at once smlilm ;itid ihut/Ui (what you find in no other nation,) and who actually have no society (what we would ca£ so,) as vou m.tv see by their comedies; they have no real comedy, not even ba Goklom, and that is becauso they have no society to draw it from. "Their conversazioni are not society at all. They go to the theatre to talk, and into company to hold then tongues. The w»men sit in a circle, and the men gather into groupes, or they play at dreary faro, or ' lotto reate, for small sums. Their academic are concerts like oui own, with better music and more form. Their best things are thtt carnival balls, and masquerades, when every body LETTERS, 1820. 149 runs mad for six weeks. After their duuiers and suppers they make extempore verses and buffoon one another ; bui" it is in a butnour which you would not enter into, ye of the north. u In their houses it is better. I should know something of the mailer, having had a pretty general experience aroono their women, from the fisherman's wife up to the JSobiTDama, whom 1 serve. Their system has its rules, ami its fitnesses) and its decorums, so as to be reduced to a kind of discipline or game at hearts, which admits few di viations, unless you wish to lose it. They are ex- , tenacious, and jealous as furies, not permitting (hair low rs even to matry if they can help it, and keeping them always close to them in public as in private, when- ever they can. In short, they transfer marriage to adul- terv, and suite the not out of that commandment. The reason is, that they marry fur their parents, and love for themselves. They exact fidelity from a lover as a debt of honour, while they pay the husband as a tradesman, that is, not at all. You hear a person's character, male or female, canvassed, not as depending on then- conduct to their husbands or wives, but to their mistress or lover. If I wrote a quarto, I do n't know that I could do more than amplify what I have here noted. It is to be observed thai while they do all this, the greatest outward respect is to be paid to the husbands, not only by the ladies, but bv th. Kinnaird." LETTER CCCCXXIV. TO MR. MUHBAV. LETTER CCCCXXII1. TO MR. BANKCS. "Ravenna, February 26, 1820. a Pulci and I are waiting for you with impatience ; but I suppose we must give way to the attraction of the Bo- losnese galleries for a time. I know nothing of pictures myself and care almost as little; but to me there are tune like die Venetian — above all, Giorgione. I remem- ber well his judgment of Solomon in the Mariscalchi in Bologna. The real mother is beautiful, exquisitely beautiful Buy her, by all means, if you can, and lake her home wilh you: put her in safety — for be as- sured there are troublous times brewing for Italy ; and as I never could keep out of a row in my life, it will be my fate, I dare say, to be over head and ears in it ; \.-tt no matter, these are the stronger reasons for coming bo aee me soon. u I have more of Scott's novels (for surely they are Scott's) since we met, and am more and more delighted. I think Uiat I even prefer them to his poetry, which (by- die- way) I redde for the first time in my life in your rooms in Trinity college. " There are some curious commentaries on Dante pre- served here, which you should see. Believe me ever, *aiUU"idly and most affectionately, B Yours, &c. " Ravenna, March 1. IS^O. B I sent you by last post die translation of the First Canto of die Morgante Maggiore, and wish you to ask Rose about the word 'sbergo,' i. e. ' usbergo,' which I have translated cuiruhs. I suspect dial it means liebntt also. Now, if so, which of die senses is best accordant with die text? I have adopted cuirass, but will he ame- nable to reasons. Uf the Datives, some say one, and some t' other ; but they are no great Tuscans in Ro- magna. However I will ask Sgricci (die famous impro- visator) to-morrow, who is a native of Arezzo. The Countess43uiccioIi, who is reckoned a very cultivated young ladv, and the dictionary, say cuirass. I have writ- ten cuirass, but helmet runs in my head nevertheless — and will rim in verse very well, whilk is the principal point. 1 will ask the Sposa Spina Spinelli, too, die Florentine bride of Count Ciabnel Ruspuni,just imported lroi.i Flo rence, and get the sense out of somebody. U I have just been visiting the new Cardinal, who ar- rived the day before yesterday in his legation. He seems a good old gentleman, pious and simple, and not quite like his predecessor, who was a bonvivant, in the worldly sense of the words. u Enclosed is a letter which I received some time ago from Dallas. It will explain itself. I have not answered it. This comes of doing people good. At one time or another (including copyrights) this person has had about fourteen hundred pounds of my money, and he writes what he calls a posthumous work about me, and a scrubby letter accusing me of treating him ill, when 1 never did any such thing. It is true that I .left off letter- writing, as I have done with almost every body else ; but I can't see how diat was misusing him. u I look upon his epistle as die consequence of my not sending him another hundred pounds, which he wrote to me for about two years ago, and which I diought proper to withhold, he having had his share, methought, of what I could dispone upon others. K In your last you ask me after my articles of domestic wants: I believe they are as usual; the bull-dogs, mag- nesia, soda-powders, tooth-powders, brushes, and every thing of the kind which are here unattainable. You siill ask me to return to England ; alas ! to what purpose ? You do not know what you are requiring. Return I must, probably, some day or odier (if I live,) sooner or later ; but it will not be for pleasure, nor can it end in good. You inquire after my health and spirits in large letters: my health can't be very bad, for I cured myself of a sharp tertian ague, in three weeks, with cold water, which had held my stoutest gondolier for months, notwithstanding the bark of die apothecary, — a circumstance which surprised Dr. Aglietti, who said it was a proof of great stamina, particularly in so epidemic a season. I did it out of dislike to the taste of bark (which I can't bear,) and succeeded, contrary to the prophecies of every body by simply taking nothing at all. As to spirits, they are unequal, now high, now low, like other people's, I suppose, and depending upon circumsrances. " Pray send me W. Scott's new novels. What are their names and characters? I read some of his former ones, at least once a day, fur an hour or so. The last are ir mv misery. " I never could un leratand ^^ hat they mean by accusing me of irreligion. However; they may have ii their own way. This gen- tleman seems to be my great admirer, so I take what l»* says in good part, as he evidently intends kitulness, to whii b l can 1 ! accuse myself of being invincible. " Yours, &c." lif-'U. LETTER CCCCXXV. TO MM. MURRAY. "Ravenna, March 6, 1820. 'Incase, in your country, you should not readily lay h ■' i "ii i In- Morgante Maggiore, I send you the original text of the Firsl < 'antoj to correspond with the translation which I sent you a few days ago. h i- from the Naples edition in quarto of 17%, — H-Uoi Florence, however, by 8 ti irk ■•(' thf tntilr, wlih ll Vol l, as or t' the allied sove- reigns of the profession, will perfectly understand without any farther sptegazione. " It is strange that here nobody understands the real precise meaning of 'sbergo,' or ' usDe^go, , * an old Tuscan word, which I have rendered cuirass (hut am not sure it is not helmet.) I have asked at least twenty people, learned and ignorant, mule and female, including poets, and offi- cers civil and military. Thi dictionary says cuirass, but gives no authority; and a female friend of mine says positively euros*, which makes me doubt the fact still more than before, Ginguenl says, 1 bonnet defer,* with the usual superficial decision of a Frenchman, so that I can't believe him: and what between the dictionary, the Italian woman, and the Fnnchman, mere e no trusting to a word they say. The context too, which should de- cide, admits equally of either meaning as you will per- ceive. Ask Rose, Hobhouse, Merrvaie, and Foscolo, and vote with the majority. I s Frere a good Tuscan? if he he, bother him too. I have tried, you see, to be as accurate as I well could. This is my third or fourth letter, <>r packet^ within the Last twenty days." LETTER CCCCXXVI. TO MR. MURRAY. "Ravenna, March 14, 1820. "Enclosed is Dante's Prophecy — Vision — or what not. Where 1 have left more than one reading (which I have done often,) yon may adopt that winch GuTord, Frere, Rose, and Hobhouse, and others of your Utican Senate think the best, or least bad. The preface will explain all that is explicable. These are but the first four cantos: if approved, I will go on. "Pray mind in printing; and let some good Italian scho- lar correct the Italian quotations. "Four days ago I was overturned in an open carriage between the river and a steep bonk: — wheels dashed to pieces, slight hruis-s, narrow .-cape, and all that; but no harm done, though coachman, f mtman, horses, and vehi- cle were all mixed together (ike macaroni, ll was owino to had driving, a i I say ; but the coachman swears to a start on the part of die horses. We. went against a post ■in the verge of b steep bank, and capsized. I usually go out of the town in a carriage, and meet the saddle horses at the bridge; it was in going there that we boggled; but 1 got my ride, as usual, after die accident. They say here it was all owing to St. Antonio of Padua (serious, I as- sure you,)^-who docs thirteen miracles a day, — that worse * rjahergQ i« ot Vlouily Lhe lame u« tKiulierk.hnhergeon, Ac. a'\ frnn llir (it'iiiMN ', ,,'. '■■■'.-. .,.,,,.,; ,,Miie tieck . SteUruj'i iiurd. " ilcln «... inn. L,.,« . i *,,,,,! mail." • lid not come of it. I have no objection to this being his fourteenth m the four-and-twenty hours. He presides over overturns and all escapes therefrom, it seems; and ihey dedicate pictures, &c. to hitu, as the sailors once did to Neptune) after 'the high Roman fashion.' "Yours, in haste." LETTER CCCCXXVII. TO MR. MURRAY. * Ravenna, March 20, 1820. "Last post I sent you, 'The Vision of Dante,' — first four cantos. Enclosed you will find, line for one, in And rhyme (terza nana,*) of which your British blackguard reader as yet understands nothing Fanny ofRimim. You know r| U ii she was bom here, and married] and slam, from Cary, Boyd, and such people. I have done it into i English, line for line, and rhyme tor rhyme, to try the pos- sibility. You bad best append it to the poems already sent by last throe posts. I shall not allow you to play thi you did last year, with the pro-e \ on /^/-scribed to Ma- zappa, which 1 sent to you not to be published, if not in a periodical paper, — and there you tacked it, without a word of explanation, tf this is published publish it with the ori- ginal, and together wuh the Pidci transla ion, or the And imitation, I suppose you have both by now, and die Juan long before. LETTER CCCCXXVIH. TO MR. MURRAV. " Ravenna, March 23, 1820. " I have received your letter of the 7th. Besides the lour packed you have already received, 1 have sent the Pulci a few days after, and since (a few days ago) the first four Cantos of Dante's Prophecy, (the best thing I ever wrote, if it be not unintrtligil>lt y ) and by last post a literal translation, word for word (versed like the original) of tho episode of Franceses of Rimini. I want to hear what you think of the new Juans, and the translations, and die Vision. They are all things that are, or ought to be, very different from one another. u If you choose to make a print from the Venetian, yon may; but she don't correspond at all lo the character you mean her to represent. On the contrary, the Contessa G, does (except that she is fair,) and is much prettier than the Fornarina ; but I have no picture of her except a mi- niature, which is very ill done; and, besides, it would not be proper, on any account whatever, to make such a use of it, even if you had a copy. " Recollect thai the two new Cantos only count with us far one. You may [iiit the Puiei and Dante together: per- haps thai were beet. So you have put your name to Juan after all your panic. You are a rare fellow. — I must now put myself in a passion to continue my prOBO. "I have canned write to ThorwaJdseQ. Pray be care- ful m sending mv daughter's picture — I mean, that it be not hurt in the carriage, for it is a journey rather long and jolting." LETTER CCCCXXIX. TO MR. MURRAY. t "Ravenna, March 28, 1820. "Enclosed is a 'Scieed of Doctrine' for you, of which I ill trouble you to acknowledge the receipt by next post Mr. rJobhouse must have the correction of it fur the press. You may show it first to whom you please. * Ree Pnemi, p. 485. t Lauei luamwd to Mr. Rowtet, page 280. LKTTK US, 1820. 151 "I wish to know what became of my two Epistles from Si. Paul, (iranslaied from the Armenian three years ago and more,) and of the letter to Roberts of last auluinn, which you never have attended to? There are two pack- ets with this. * F. S. I have some thoughts of publishing the 'Hint-; from Horace,' written ten years ago — if Hobhouse ran rummage them out of my papers left at his father's, — with some omissions and alierauuiis previously to be made when 1 see th* proofs. 11 LETTER CCCCXXX. TO MR. MURRAY. " Ravenna, March 29, 1820. ■Herewith you will receive a note (enclosed) on Pope, which you will Bnd tally with a part of the text of last post. I have at last lost all patience with the atrocious cant and nonsense about Pope, with which our present * *s are overflowing, and am determined to make such head against it as an individual can, by prose c.r verse; and I will at least do it with good will. There is no bearing it any longer; and if it goes on, it will destroy what little go xi writing or taste remains among us. I hope there are still a few men of taste to second me; but if not, I'll battle n alone, convinced that it is in the best cause of English literature. "I have sent you so manv packets, verse and prose, lately, 'hat you wi'l be tired of the postage, if not of the pe- rusal. I want to aaswer some parts of your last letter, but I have not uine, for I must 'boot and sadd'e,* as my Cap- lain Craigengilt (an officer of the old Napoleon Iialian armv) is in waiting, and my groom and cattle to boot. " " You have given me a screed of metaphor and what n-'l about Pulc\ and manners, 'going without clothes, like Our Saxon ancestors.' Now, the Saxons did not go with- out dotiies; and, in the next place, they are not my an- Ce 'or-, nor yours either; for mine were Norman, and yours, I take it by your name, where God. And, in the next, I differ from you about the 'refinement' which has banished the comedies of Congreve. Are not the come- dies of Sheri'lan acted to the thinnest houses ? I know (as ex-commiited) that ' The School for Scandal' was the worst stock-piece upon record. I also know that Congreve gave up writing because Mrs. Centlivre's balderdash drove his comedies off. So it is not decency, but stupidity, that does all this ; for Sheridan is as decent a writer as need be, and eve no worse than Mrs. Centhvre, of whom Wilkes (the actor) said, 'not only her play would be damned, but she too.' He alluded to l A Bold Stroke for a Wife, 1 But last, and most to the purpose, Pulci is not an indecent wiriter — at least in his first Canto, as you will have per- ceived bv this time. " You talk of refinement : — are you all mare moral ? are you so moral ? No such thing. J know what the world is in England, by my own proper experience of the best of it — at least of the loftiest ; and I have described it everv where as it is to be found in all places. " But to return. I should like to see the proof* of mine answi-r, because there will be something to omit or to alter. But pray let it be carefully printed. When con- venient let me have an answer. " Yours." LETTER CCCCXXXI. TO MR. HOPP^ER. "Ravenna, March 31, 1820. ***** • Ravenna continues much the same as I described it. Conversazioni all Lent, and much better ones than anv at Venice. There arc small games at hazard, that is, faro, where nobody can point more than a shilling or two ;— other card-tables, and as much talk and coffee as vou please. Every body does and says what they please ; and I do not recollect any disagreeable events, except being three times falsely accused of flirtation, and once being robbed of six sixpences by a nobleman of the city, a Count * * *, I did not suspect the illustrious delin- quent ; but the Coun;ess V * * * and the Marquis L + * * told me of ii directly, and also that it was a way he ha 1, of filching money when he saw it before him; but I did not ax him tor the cash, but contented myself with telling hnn Uiat if he did it again, I should anticipate the law. " There is to be a theatre in April, and a fair, and an opera, and another opera in June, besides the fine weather of nature's giving, and the rides in the Forest of Pine. With my best respects to Mrs. Hoppner, believe mo ever, &c. " Byron. u P. S. Could you give me an item of what books re- main at Venice ? I do rti want them, but want to know whether the few that are not here are there, and were not lost by the way. I hope and trust you have got all your wine safe, and that it is drinkable. Allegra is prettier, I think, but as obstinate as a mule, and as ravenous as a vulture : health good, to judge of r he complexion — temper tolerable, but for vanity and pertinacity. She thinks her- self liandsome and will do as she pleases." LETTER CCCCXXXII. TO MR. MURRAY/. "Ravenna, April 9. 1820. "In the name of all the devils in the printing-office, why do n't you write to acknowledge the receipt of the second, third, and fourth packets, viz. the Pulci translation and original, the Dantides, the Observations on, &c? You forget that you keep me in hot water till I know whether they are arrived, or if I must have the bore of recopying. ***** "Have you gotten the cream of translations, Franeesca of Rimini, from the Inferno 7 Why, I have sent you a warehouse of trash within the last month, and you have no sort of fee ling about you: a pastry-cook would have had twice the gratitude, and thanked me at least for the quantity. " To make the letter heavier, I enclose you the Cardi- nal Legated (our Carnpehis) circular for his conversa- zione this evening. It is the anniversary of the Pope's (taro-tion, and all polite Christians, even of the Lutheran creed, must go and be civil. And there will be a circle, and a faro-table, (for shillings, thai is, they do n't allow high play,) and all the beauty, nobility, and sanctity of Ravenna present. The Cardinal himself is a very good- natured little fellow, bishop of Muda, and legate here, — a decent believer in all the doctrines of the church. He has kept his housekeeper these forty years * * * * , but is reckoned a pious man, and a moral liver. "I am not quite sure that I won't be among you this autumn, for I find that business do n't go on — what with trustees and lawyers — as it should do, ' with all delibe- rate speed. 1 They differ about investments in Ireland. " Between the devil antt deep sea, Betweou the lawyer anil trustee, I am puzzled ; and so much time is lost by mv not being upon the spot, what with answers, demur*, rejoinders, that it may be I must come and look to it ; for one savs do, and t' other do n't, so that I know not which way to turn : but perhaps they can manage without me. " Yours, &c. " P. S. I have begun a tragjedy on the subject of Ma- rino Faliero, the Doge of Venice ; hut you shaVt see it these six years, if vou don't acknowledge mv packets who more quickness and precision. Always write, if but a 152 LETTERS, 1820. tine, by return of post, when any thing arrives, which is no' * men letter. Address direct to Ravenna ; it saves a week's time, and much postage." LETTER CCCCXXXIII. TO MB. MURRAY. R Ravenna, April 16, 1820. 'Post after post arrives without bringing any acknow- ledgment from you of the different packets (excepting the first) which 1 have sen! within the last two uiontlis, all of which ought to be arrived long ere now; ami as they h ere announced in other letters, you ought at leusT to say whether they are come or not. Too are not expected to write frequent or long letters, as your time is much occu- pied ; but when parcels that have cost some pains hi ih< I omposidon, ami great trouble tn the copying are sent to you, I should at least be put out of suspense, by the im- mediate acknowledgment, per return of post, addressed directly to Ravenna. I am naturally — know tag what con- nnenlal pw& are — anxious to hear that they .ire arrived; especially as I louth the task of copying so much, that if there was a human being thai could copy my blotted MSS. he should have all they can ever bring for his trouble. All I desire is two lines, to say, such a day I received such a packet. There are at least six unac- knowledged. This is neither kind nor courteous. " I have, besides, another reason for desiring you to be speedy, which is, that there is that brewing in Italy which will speedily cut off all security of communication, and set all your Anglo-travellers flying in every direction, with their usual fortitude in foreign tumults. The Spa- nish ami French affairs have set the Italians in a ferment ; and no wonder: they have been too long trampled on Tins will make a sad scene for your exquisite traveller, but not for the resident, who naturally wishes a people t redress: itself. I shall, if permitted by the natives, remain to see what will come of it, and perhaps to lake a turn with them, like Dugald Dalgeity and his borae, in case of business; for I shall think it by far the most interesting Spectacle ami moment in existence, to see the Italians send (he barbarians of all nations back to their own dens. I have lived long enough among them to feel more for them as a nation than for any other people in existence. But they want union, and they want principle; and I doubt their success. However, they will try, probably, ami if they do, it will be a good cause. No Italian can hate an Austrian more than I do: unless it be the Eng- lish, the Austrians seem to mc the most obnoxious race under the sky. " But I doubt, if any thing be done, it won't be so qui- etly as in Spain. To be sure, revolutions are not to be made with rose-water, where there are foreigners as masters. * Write while you can; for it is but the toss up of a paul that there will not be a row that will somewhat re- tard the mail by-and-by. "Yours, fcc* LETTER COCCXXXIV. to mr. uopryfiR. "Ravenna, April 18, 1S20. "1 have caused write to Sin and Willhahn to send with Vincenza, in a boat, the camp-beds and swords left in Jieir care when I quitted Venice. There are also seve- ral pounds of JManwn's best powder in a japan case ; but unless I felt sure of getting it away from V. without seizure, I won't have it ventured. I can get it in here, b) means of an acquaintance in the customs, who has offered to get it ashore for me; but should like to be certiorated of its safely m leaving Venice. I would tioi bee u for its weight m gold — there is none such in Italy, as I take it to be. U I wrote to you a week or so ago, and hope you are in good plight and spirit*. Sir Humphry I tavy is here, and was last night at die Cardinal's. As I had been there iast Sundav, and yeetorda) was warm, I did not go, which I should have done, if 1 bad thought of meeting the man of chemistry. He called 'his morning and I snail go it search of him at Corso time. I believe to-day, being Mondav, there is no great conversaziooe, and only die family one ai the Marchess Cavallrs, where 1 go. as a rtlaiwn sometime*, so lhatj unless he stays a day or two we should hardly meet in pirblic. "The theatre is to open in May for the fair, if there is not a row in ail Italy by that time, — the Spanish Business has set them all a consiiiuiionmg, and what will be the end no one kbOWS — ii is also necessary thereunto to have a beginning. ■Youra,&c. "P. S. My benediction to Mrs. Hoppner. How ■? vour little boy ? Allegra is growing, and ha.- increased in good looks and obstinacy." LETTER CCCCXXXV. TO MR. MURRAY. "Ravenna, April 23, 1820. The proofs don't contain the tost stanzas of Cant* Second, but end abruptly with the 105th stanza. "I told you long ago thai die new Cantos 4 were not good, and I also toUl you a reason. Recollect, I do not oblige you to publish them; you mav suppress them, if you like, but I can alter nothing. I have erased die six stanzas about those two impostors, * * * * (which 1 suppose will give you great pleasure,) bur I can do no more. [ can neither recast, nor replace \ but I give. you leave to put it all into the tire, if you like, or not to publish, and I think that 's sufficient. l l told you that I wrote on with no good-will — ihat T had been, not frightened, but hurt by the outer.', and, be sides, that when I wrote last November, I was ill in body, and in very great distress of mind about some private things of my own; bin yon would have it: so I sent it lo you, and to make it lighter, cut it in two— but I can't piece it together again. I can't cobble : I must 'either make a spoon or spoil a horn,' — and there's an end; for there's no remeid: but I leave you free will to suppress the whole, if you like it. "About the Morgantc UfaggUm, liriint have a line omitted. It may circulate, or it may not; but all the criticism on earth shan't touch aline, unless it bebecause it is bcully translated. Now you say, and I say, and others say, that the translation is ;u"""l *"ie ; ■ uid so it shall go to press as it is. Pulci must answer for I irreligion: I answer lor the translation only. + + **** "Pray let Mr. Hobhouse look to the Italian next lime in ihcproofn: mis time, while 1 am scribbling to you, they axe corrected by one who passes for tin- prettiest woman in Romania, and even the Marches, as far as Aticoua, be the other who she may. "I am glad you like my answer to your inquiries about Italian society. It is fit you should like mmtt!ung t and be d — d to you. "My love to Scott. I shall think higher of knighthood ever after tor his being dubbed. By-the-way, he is "ho Hrst poet irle.l for Iils talent in Britain: it has happened abroad before now ; but on the continent titles are univer- sal and worthless. Whydon'i you send me Ivanhoe and the Monastery ? I have never written to Sir Walter, for I.KTTERf", 1820. 15:* I know he has a thousand things, and T a lho'.i=and nothings, to do ; hut I hope io see him at Abbotsford before very long, and I will sweat his claret lor him, though Italian abstemiousness 1ms made inv brain but a shilpil concern for a Scotch sitting 'inter pocula.' * I love Scott, and Moure, and all the better brethren ; but I hate and abhor thai puddle of water-worms Whom vou have taken into your troop. * Yours, &c. *P. S. You say that one-half is very good: you are inr mgi lor, if it were, it would he the finest poem in exist- ence. IV here is the poetry of winch one- W/" is good ? is is the JRnad? is il 3 film's/ is ii DrydaCt? is i! any one's except Pop* to ;i<>'l Goldsmith's, of which all is good ? and . et these last two are the poets your pond poets w-tiilri explode. But if one-half of (he two new Cantos be _ m your opinion, what the devil would vou have more? No — no, no poetry is gencitUi/ good — only by fits and starts— and you are lucky to gel a sparkle here and there. You might as well want a midnight all stars as rhyme all perfect 8 We ar-- on the verge of a row here. Last night they have overwritten all the city walls with 'Up with the re- public!' and 'Death to the Pope! 1 &c &c. This would be nothing in London, where the walls are privileged. But here it is a different thing; they are not used to such fierce political inscriptions, and the |x>Hce is all on the alert, and the Cardinal glares pale through all lib purple. "April 24th, 1620, 8 o'clock, p. m. •The police have been, all noon and afrer, searching for the insenbers, but have caught none as yet. They musl have been all night about it, for the *Live republics — l>i-ath to Popes and Priests,' are innumerable, and plastered over all the palaces: ours has plenty. There is •Down with the Nobility,' too; they are down enough al- ready, for that matter. A very heavy rain and wind hav- ing come on, I did not go out and 'skirr the country ;' but I shall mount to-morrow, and take a canter among the peasantry, who are a savage, resolute race, always riding with guns in their hands. I wonder they do n't suspect the serenaders, for they play on the guitar here all night, as in Spain, to thtir mistresses. a Talking of politics, as Caleb Q, not cm says, pray look al the conclusion of my Ode on Waterloo, written in the year 1815, and, comparing it with the Duke de Bern's cata- strophe in 18*20, tell me if I have not as good a right to the character of ' Vales? hi both senses of the word, as Fitz- gerald and Coleridge? * ( t imtmi lean will follow yet — ' and have not they ? * I can't pretend to foresee what will happen anion" vrni Englishers at this distance, but I va'icinate a row in I;alv ; in whilk case, I do n't kuow that 1 won't have a finder in i'. I dislike the Austrians, and think the Italians infamously oppressed; and if they begin, why, I will recommend 'thi- erection of a sconce upon Drumsnab,' like Dugald Dai- getty." LETTER CCCCXXXVr. TO MR. MURRAY. "Ravenna, May 8. 1820. ■ From your not having written again, an intention which ronr letter of the 7th ultimo indicated, I have to presume dial the 'Prophecy of Dante' has not been found more worthy than its predecessors in the eyes of your illustrious synod. In "hat case, you will be in some perplexity; to end which, I repeat to you, that you are not to consider yourself as bound or pledged to publish any thing because it is rrun«, but aways U> act according to your own views, •r opuuMis, or uWe »»f your friends ; and to be sure that you will in no degree offend me by ' declining the article,' Io use a technical phrase. The prose observations on John Wilson's attack,* J do not intend for publication at this nine; and I send a Copy of verses to IVIr. Kinnaird, (ill --y were written last year on crossing the Po,) f which must ivA he published either. I mention this, because it is probable he may give you a copy. Pray recollect this, as they are mere verses of society, and written upon pri- vate feelings and passions. And, moreover, J can't con- sen; to any mutilations or omissions of Puici: the original has been ever free from such in Italy, the capital of Chris- tianity, and the translation may be so in England; though you will think it strange thai they should have allowed uch freedom fir many centuries to ihe Morgante, while the other day they confiscated the whole translation of the Fourth Canto of Childe Harold, and have persecuted Leoiu, the translator— so he writes me, and so I could nave told him, bad he consulted me before its publication. This shows how much more politics interest men in tlie-se parts than religion. Half a do/en invectives against tv- ranny confiscate Childe Harold in a month; and eight- and-twnty cantos of quizzing monks and knights, and church government, are let loose for centuries. I copy Leoni's account. "■ ' Non igrmrera forse che la mia versione del 4° Canto del Childe Harold fu coniiscata in ogni parte: ed io stesso ho dovuto soiFrir vessazioni altrettanto ridicole quanto illi- bcraii, ad arte che alcuni ver3i fossero esclusi dalla cen- sura. Ma siccome il divieto non fa d'ordmario che ac- cresccre la curiosila cosi quel carme sull'ItaJiae no-rcato piu ehe mai, e penso di farlo ristampare in Inghilterra senza nulla escludere. Sciagurata condizione di questa mia patna ! se patria si pub chiamare una terra cosl av- vilita dalla fort una, dagli uommi, da se medeahna. 1 "Rose will translate this to you. Has he had his letter? I enclosed it to you months ago. "This intended piece of publication I slia.ll dissaudehim from, or he may chance to see the inside of St. Angelo's. The last senience of his letter is the common and pathetic sentiment of all his countrymen. "Sir Humphry Davy was here last fortnight, and I was in his company in the house of a very pretty Italian lady of rank, who, by way of displaying her loarning in presence of the great chemist, ihen describing his fourteenth ascen- sion "i Mount Vesuvius, asked 'if there was not a similar volcano in Ireland?* My only notion of an Irish volcano consisted of the lake of Killainey, wluch I naturally con- ceived her to mean : hut on second thoughts I divined that she alluded to Zealand and toHecfa — and so it proved, thoueh she BUStamad her volcanic topography for some time with ali the amiable pertinacity of 'the femirue.' She soon after turned to me, and asked me various questions about Sir Humphry's philosophy, and I explained as well as an oracle his skill in gasen safety lamps, and ungluing the Pompeian MSS. l But what do you call him?' said she. 'A great chemist,' quoth I. 'What can he do?' repeated the lady. 'Almost any thing,' said I. 'Oh, then, mio caro, do pray beg him to give me something to dye my eyebrows black. I have tried a thousand tilings, and the colours all come off; and besides, they do n't grow : can't he invent something to make them grow?' All this with the greatest earnestness ; and what you will be surprised at, she is neither ignorant nor a fool, but really well edu- cated and clever. But they speak like children, when first out of their convents ; and, after all, this is better than an English blue-stocking. u 1 did not tell Sir Humphry of this last piece of philoso- phy, not knowing how he nught take it. Davy was much taken with Ravenna, and die primitive Italumism of die people, who are unused to foreigners ; but he only stayed a day. Send me Scott's novels and some news. * *"■ iHier to \.r f' H-f wl HUckwvWi M*«*due, t*5 *}]•• says he has lei it go on, till he can do so no longer. Hut he wants her to stay, ami dismiss me ; for he does n'l like to pay ba« k her d >w 17 and to make an alimony. Her are rather for the separation, as they detest him, — indeed, wi does -very body. The populace and the for those who arein the wrong, vi*. ih" 1:1 1 . and herlover. I should have retreated, bul honour, and an erysipelas which has attacked her, prevenl me, — to say nothing of love, f»r I love her must entirely, :■■■■,, ,■■( > i-m i" P'T-ikilI':- ii-T to sacrific* every thin.' to a phrensy. ( 1 seehowit will end; she will be the six- M:-, Shu Heton.' ■ My paper id inu-heJ. a:id so must this letter. « fours ev sr, B B. ■ P. S. I re jret mat you have not completed the Italian Pray, how come von to be still in Pans ' M urray ha- four or live things of mine in hand — the new I > >u Juan, which his back-shop synod do n't admire ; — a translation of the first Canto ofPolc?s Morgante Maggiore, excellent ; — a short ditto from Dante, not so much approv- ed ; — the Prophecy <>f Dante, very grand and worthy, &c. c : — a furious prose answer to Blackwood's Obser- 1 on Don Juan, with a savage Defence of Pope — likely to make a row. The opinions above I quote from Murray and Ins Utiean senate; — you will form your own, when vou see the things. ■ You will have no great chance of seeing me, for I o mink 1 must finish in Italy. Bu f , if you come my way, you shall have a tureen of macaroni. Pray tell me about yourself and your intents. L - My trustees are going to lend Earl Blessington sixty thousand pounds (at six per cent.) on a Dublin mortgage. Only think of my becoming an Irish absentee |B LETTER CCCCXL. TO MR. HOPPNER. " Ravenna, May 25, 1800. "Au-rrman named Ruppsecht has sent me, heaven why, several Deutsche Gazettes, of all which ! an lei Stand neither word nor letter. I have sent you the : to Translate to me some remarks, which appear to be Go8tfte?* upon Manfred — and if I may . uhniratian [generally pin ah •rsonie- i. and the word l fu/poamdriachj are any mine bul favourable. I shall regret this, for I should en proud €G § die's good word ; but I shan't alter iiiv opinion of him, even though he should be savage, ■Will you excuse this; trouble, and do me this favour ? — Never mind — soften nothing — I am literary proof— having had good and evil said in most modern languages "Believe me, &c." LETTER CCCCXLI. TO MR. MOORE. c Ravenna, June 1820. "I hi 1 Parisian letter from W. W. whicl I prefer answering through you, if that worthy he still at Pans, and, as he -ays, an occasional visiter of yours. In N ivember last he wrote to me a wed-meaning letter, t'.r some reasons of his own, his belief that a re- union might be effected between Lady B. and myself. To this I answered as usual ; and he sent me a second tetter, repeating his notions, which letter I have never an- swered, having had a thousand other things to think of. He now writes as if he believed that he had offended me by touching on the topic ; and I wish you to assure him that I am not at all so, — but, on the contrary, obliged by his good-nature. At the same time acquaint him the thing it impossible. You know (Am, as well as I, — and there let 11 end. ■ I In lieve that I showed you his epistle in autumn last. He asks me if 1 have heard of my ' laureate 1 at Pans,*— somebody who has written ' a most sanguinary Epl re* against me ; but whether in French, or Dutch, or on what score, I know not, and he don't say, — except that (for my an faction) he says it is the best thing in the fellow's olume. If there is any thing of the kind that I ought to know, vou will doubtless tell me. I suppose it to be some- thing of 'he usual sort; — he says, he do n't remember tha author's name. "I wrote to vou some ten days ago, and expect an an- swer at your leisure. "The separation business sua continues, and all the world are unplica'ed, including priests and cardinals. The public opinion is furious against Aim, because he ought to have cut the matter short at Jirst, and not waked twelve months to begin. He has been Drying at evidence, but ran gel none sufficient; for what would make fifty divorces in England won't do here — there must be the most decided proofs. * * * l lt is the first cause of the kind attempted in Ravenna for these two hundred years ; (or, though they often sepa- rate, they assign a dim rent motive. You know that the continental incontinent are more delicate than the En£ lish, and do n't like proclaiming their coronation ui a court, even when nobody doubs it. 14 All her relations are furious against him. The father has challenged him — a superfluous valour, for he don't fight, though suspected of two assassinations — one of tl. famous Monzoni of Forli. Warning was given me not to take such long rides in the Pine Forest without being on mv guard ; so I take my stiletio and a pair of pistols in my pocket during mv daily rides. "I won't stir from this place till the matter is settled one way or the other. She is as femininely firm as possible ; and the opinion is so much against him, that the advocate* decline to undertake his cause, because they say that he is either a fool or a rogue— loo], if he did noi discover ihe liaison till now ; and rogue, if he did know it, and waited, for some bad end, to divulge it. In short, there has been nothing like it since the days of Guido di Polenta's iamily, in these parts. "If the man has me taken off, like Polonius, 'say he made a good end' — for a melodrame. The principal se- curity is, that he hai not the courage to spend twenty scudi — the average price of a clean-handed brayo— other- wise tin-re is no want of opportunity, for I ride about the woods every evening, with one servant, and sometimes an acquaintance, who latterly looks a little queer in solitary bits of bushes. B Good-by. — Write to yours ever, &c * LETTER CCCCXLH. Tr MR. MURRAY. "Ravenna, June 7, 1820. "Enclosed is something which will interest vou, to wit, the opinion of the greatest man of Germany — per- haps of Europe — upon one of the great men of your adver usements (all 'famous hands,' as Jacob Tonson used to sav of his ragamuffins) — in short, a critique ofGoiAe's upon Manfred, There is the original, an English trans- lation, and an Italian one; keep them all in your archives, for the opinions of such a man as Goethe, whether favour able or not, are always interesting — and this is more so, as favourable. His Faust I never read, for I do n't know German ; but Matthew Monk Lewis, in 1816, at Coligny, translated most of it to me vwA voce, and I was naturally much struck with it ; but it was the Steinhach and tho Jungfrau, and something else, much more than Faustua, * M. I.tritkrlitLt. J 56 letters, ma that made me write Manfred. The first scene, however, and that of Fauslus, are very similar Acknowledge this fetter. "Yours ever. * P. S. I have received Ivanhoe ; — good. Pray send me some tooth-powder and tincture of myrrh, by Wrife,&e. Ricciardelto should have been translated literally, or not at all. As to puffing tVhistUcrafl, il uun't do. I'll tell you why some day or other. Cornwall 's a poet, but spoiled by the detestable schools of the day. Mrs. Hemans is a poet also, but too stiltitied and apostrophw, — and quite wrong. Men died calmly before the Christian era, and since, without Christianity: witness the Romans, and. lately, Tbisuewood, Bandt, and Love] — nun who ought t-> hair hern unfiled dottm vil/t thnr crimes, tVtn >uui they &*■ Heved. Adeath-bed is a matter of nerves and constitu- tion, and not of religion. Voltaire was frightened, Frede- rick of Prussia noi : Christians the same, according to their strength rather than their creed. What does H * * H * * mean by K» stanza? which bj octave got drunk or gone mad. Ho ought to have his ears boxed with Thor^a ham- mer lor rhyming so fantastical ly." LETTER CCCCXLHI. TO MR. MOORE. "Ravenna, June 9, 1820. ■GafiffnaTD has just sent me the Paris edition of your works, (which. 1 wrote to order,) and I am glad to see my old fii mds with a French face. I have been skimming and dipping, in and over [hem, like a swallow, and as pleased as one. 1 1 is the first time that IhartseentheMeloeucawithoui music; and, I don't know how, but 1 can't read in a music-book — the crotchets confound the words in my hi ad, though I recollect them perfectly when sung. Music a i . in-, memory through the ear, not tlvough the eye I m- an, thai her quavers perplex me upon paper, but they are a help when heard. And thus I was glad to see the words without their borrowed robes; — lo my mind they look none the worse for their nudity. "The biographer has mad.' a botch of your life — call- ing your father * a venerable old gentleman, 1 and prattling of 'Addison, 1 and 'dowager countesses. 1 If that damned fellow was to write my life, I would certainly take his. And then, at the Dublin dinner, you have 'made a speech," (do you recollect, at Douglas K.'s, * Sir, he ruadc me a speech?') too complimen:ary to the* living poets,' and somewhat rodolenf of universal praise. / am hut too well oil in it, but * * * * * * + * *. k You have not sent me any poetical or personal news of yourself Why do n't you complete an Italian Tour of the Fudgt s ? I have just been turning over Little, which I knew by heart in lSGtf, being then m my fifteenth sum- mer. Heigho! I believe all the mischief I have ever done, or sung has been owing to dial confounded book of yours. u lu my last I told you of a cargo of 'Poeahio, 1 which I had sen! to M. at his own impatient desire ; — -and, now he has got it, he don't like il, ami demurs. Perhaps he i^ right. I have no great opinion of any of my lasl ship- ment, except a translation from Pulci, which is word for word, and verse for verse. k I am in the Third Act of B Tragedy : hut whether it will be finished or not, I know not : 1 have, at this pre- sent, too many passions of my own on hand to do justice tu those of the dead. Besides the vexations mentioned iii my last, I have incurred a quarrel with the Pope's carabiniers, or gens-d'armetie, who have petitioned the Cardinal agaiitsl mv liveries, as resembling too nearly their own lousy uniform. They particularly object to the epaulettes, which all the world with us have upon gala (lavs. My liveries are of the colours confirming to my arms, and have been the family hue since the vear 1066 U I have sent a trenchant reply, as you may Mipponfl and have given to understand thai, if any soldados of that respectable corps insult my servants, I will do likewise by their gallant commanders; and 1 have directed my ragamuffins, six in Dumber, who are tolerably savage, io defend themselves, in case of aggression \ and, on holy- iays antl gaudy days, 1 shall ami the whole set, including mvselti incase of accidents Of treachery. 1 used 10 play pretty well at the broadsword, once upon a time, at Angeloa; but I should like the pistol, our national buc- caneer weapon, better, thougfa I am out of practice at present However, I Can 'w ink and hold OUt mine iron ' It makes me think (the whole thing does) of Romeo and Juliet — 'now, Gregory, remember th> ■moaning blow.' "All these feuds, however, with the Cavalier for his wife, and the troopers for my lweries,are very tiresome to a quiet man, who does his best to please all the world, and longs for fellowship and good-will. Pray write. " I am yours, &.C.* LETTER CCCCXI.1V, TO MR. MOORE. "Ravenna, July 13. 1820. "To remove or increase your Irish anxiety about my being'ma whisp, 1 * I answer your letter forthwith; pre- mising that, as Iama'iritf ofthc wisp/ I may chance to tlit out of it. But, first, a word on the Memoir ; — I have Do objection, nay, I would rather thai one correct copy was taken and deposited in honourable hands, in case of accidents happening to the original ; for you know that I have none, and have never even re-read, nor, indeed, read at all what is there written ; I only know that I wrote it with the fullest intemion to be 'faithful and true' in my narrative, but m>{ impartial— no, by the Lord! 1 can't pre- trial to be that, while I feel. Hut I wish to give every body concerned the opportunity to contradict or correct me. "I have no objection to any proper person seeing what is there written, — seeing U was written, like every thing else, for the purpose of being read, however much many writings may fail in arriving at that object. K With regard to 'the whisp,* the Pope has pronounced their separation. The decree came yesterday from Baby- lon, — it was she and h a- friends who demanded it, on the grounds of her husband's (the noble Count Cavalii fa) extraordinary usage, He opposed it with all his mighli because of the alimony, which has been assigned, with all her goods, chattels, carriage, &c. to be restored by him. In Italy thev can't divorce. He insisted on her giving me up, and he would forgive every thing — even the adul- tery which he swears that he can prove by 'famous wit- nesses.' But, in this country, the very courts hold such proofs in abhorrence, the Italians being a- much more delicate in public than the English, as they are more passionate in private. "The friends and relatives, who arc numerous and powerful, reply-to bim — ' I'm yourself are either fool or knave. — fool, if you did not see the consequences of the approximate f Lhasa two young persons, — knave, if you connive at it. Take your choice, — hut don't break out (after twelve months of the closest intimacy, under your own eves and positive sanction) with a scandal, which can onlv make you ridiculous and her unhappy.' " He swore that lie thougbj our intercourse was purely amicable, ami that / was more partial to him than to her, nil melancholy testimony proved the contrary. To this they answer, that 'Will of Ail wisp' was not an unknown person, and mat 'clamosa Kama' had not pre. claimed tho purity of my morals: — that her brother, a year ago, wrota from Rome to warn him, that his wife v. Id infallibly be led astray bv this ignis fatUUS, unless he took prop* measures, all of which he neglected to take, &c. ioc. • An I rii* ptimir for being in i »cr»p#. LETTK K 5,1820 157 "Now, he savs, lhal he encouraged my return to Ravenna, lo see'in uuanti picdi di aequo m'.imo,' and he has found onough lo drown nun in. In short, i M foil p-is le tool ; ■ FenuDC se phignk— Pnxe-I.a pare.. lei «e joim *» BXCUM el u irn,p^n IIUIO SaVS, Ulai nrairu i"ua o."o._j im~ -«-.~ .— buffet, and induced him to conspire. ' Pert) fu permesso che il Faliero perdette 1' intelletto,' &c. " I do not know what your parlour-boarders will think of the Drama I have founded upon this extraordinary even'. The only similar one in history is the story of Agis, King of Sparta, a prince, with the commons against the aristocracy, and losing his life therefor. But it shall be sent when copied. " I should be glad to know why your Quartering Re- viewers, at the close of the Fall of Jerusalem,' accuse me of Manicheism ? a compliment to which the sweetener of 'one of the mightiest spirits' by no means reconciles me. The Poem they review is very noble ; but could they not do justice to the writer without converting him into my relioious antidote? I am not a Manichean, nor an Any chean. I should like to know what harm my ' poeshies' have done ? I can't tell what people mean by making me a hobgoblin." LETTER CCCCXLV. TO MB. MURRAY. "Ravenna, July 17, 1830 • I have received some books, and Quarterlies, and Edinburghs, fir all which I am grateful ; they contain all I know of England, except by Galignani's newspaper. " The Tragedyf is comple ed, but now comes the task 4 copy and correction. It is very long, (42 sheets of long japer.'of fhur pages each,) and I believe must make more Jian 1 10 or 150 pages, besides many historical extract as notes, which I mean to append. History is closely ■ Th- tut" Riven him 'iyM. LainerUne, ill one of tiii toemi. Ilarlao Pal'wre. LETTER CCCCXLVI. TO MR. MURRAY. Ravenna, August 31, 1820. "I have 'put my strut into the tragedy, (as you if il;) but you know that there are d — d souls as well as trage- dies. Recollect that it is not a political play, though it may look like il; it is strictly historical. Read the history and judge. "Adas picture is her mother's. I am glad or it — the mother made a good daughter. Send me Gilford's opi- nion, and never mind the Archbishop. I can n< ithei send you away, nor give you a hundred pistoles, nor a better taste: I send you a tragedy, and you asked for ' facetious epistles;' a little like your predecessor, who advised Dr. Prideaux to ' put some more humour into his Life of Ma- homet.' " Bankes is a wonderful fellow. There is hardly one of my school or college contemporaries that has not turned out more or less celebrated. Peel, Palmerston, Bankes, Kobhouse, Tavistock, Bob Mills Douglas Kmnaird, &c. &c. have all talked and been talked about. ***** "We are here going to fight a little next month, if the Huns don't cross the Po, and probably if they do. I can't say more now. If any thmg happens, you have matter for a posthumous work in MS.; so pray be civil. Depend upon it, there will be savage work, if once they begin here. The French courage proceeds from vanity, the German from phleom, the Turkish from fanaticism and opium, the Spanish from pride, ihe English from coolness, the Dutch from obstinacy, the Russian from insensibility, but the Jta- i lion from anger ; a i you 11 see that they will spare nothing. 158 LETTERS, 182ft LETTER CCCCXLVII. TO MR. MOORE. "Ravenna, August 31, 1820. "D — n your 'mezzo cammin J ' 4 — von should sav 'the prune oflife, 1 a much more consolatoi ) phrase. Besides, ii i n it cornel. I was born in J7SS, and ronseqiifiii] \ ara but thirty-two. you are mistaken on another noun. Die 'Sequin Box* never came into requi ition, nor is it to do so. U were bettei that ii had, for then a man i not bounds you know. \ lo reform, I did relbnn — whal wo tld you have .' ' Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.' [ verilj believe that nor you, nor anj man of poetical temperament, ran avoid a slum,' passion of some kind. Ii i^ the poetry oflife. What should ! have known orwrtfi- i I been a quietj mercantile politician, or a lord in ■ ii ' A m hi must tra* el and turmoil] or there i< no existent Besides,] only meant to !"■ a Cavalier Ser* rente, and had no idea it would turn out a romance, ui the An ;lo fashion. " However, I suspect I know a ihin« or two of Italy — more than Lady Morgan has picked up in her posting. What do Englishmen know of Italians beyond their mu- seums and saloons — and some hack **, en passant? Now, I have lived in the heart of their houses, in par's of Italy freshest and leasl influenced hv sir;irii:«Ts, — ha\ <■ s.-en ami {para magna fin) a portion of their hopes, and leai . an ! passions, and am almost inoculated mto a fa- intly. This is io see men and things as they are. B You say that I called you'quiet'"f — I don't recollect any thing of the sort. On the contrary you are always in s< rapes. "What think von of the Queen? I hoar Mr. Hoby says, 'that it makes him weep to see her, she rununds him so much of Jane Shore.' "Mi H In ihi boo ■ lieirl U quite tart , Farmwi n i i ■ eu n i h ■ uk ul Shore ; And, in fact, • • • • • reuse this ribaldry. What is your Poem about? Write and tell me all about it and you, * Yours, &c. "P. S, I h.l you write the lively quiz on Peter Beil ? It has wit enough to he yours, and almost too much to be ai • bodj el (e T s now going, It was in Galignani die other day or h i LETTER CCCCXLVI1I. TO MH. Mt'RRAV. "Ravenna, September 7, 1?:0. "In correcting the proofs you must refer to the manu- nrript, because there arc in it t>arious rca/HnffS. Pray at- tend to this, and choose what GirTbrd thinks best. Let me hear what he thinks of the whole. "You speak of Lady **ls illness: she is not of those who die: — the amiable only do; and tin'-'' whose death would do good live. Whenever she is pleased to return, n may bt pr< umed she will take her 'divining rod' alon« with her: it may be of use to her at home, as well as to the 'rich man* of the Evangelists. tf Prav do not let the papers paragraph me back to Eng- land. They may say what they please, any Loathsome abuse but that. Contradict it. M Mv last Letters will have taught yon to - rpecl an ex- pto ion here: it was primed and loaded, but they hesitated to fire the brain. One of the citi a shirked from thi I Cannot write more at lar*je (or a thousand reasons. Our 'pnir hill folk' oflered to stnke, and rai a the first banner, bul Bologna paused; and now*tis autumn, and the ea son half over. '0 Jerusalem! Jerusalem!' The Huns are on the Po ; bin if once they pass it on their way to Na- • I hdd conei-Miilateit him i riving alwtial Dante call* the " mci- Italy will be beliind them. The dogs — the wolves — may ihv\ perish like the host "f Sennacherib! If you want to publish tie- Prophecy of Dante, you never will have a heller time. 3 ■ linn tiiii;i.".'i.iit i. i.,..-.. u.i •.■•>£. %0 CBTiinii." of life, I tie If! oflhll U I ! '" I t 1 bad mikUkvii lL» concluding word* of hi* L-iur of Um 90 i of /aw Miron LETTER CCCCXLIX. TO MR. MURRAY. "Ravenna, Sept. 11, 1SS0. " Here is another historical ruts for you. I want to bo as near truth as the Drama ran be. ■ I ,;i-i pbsl I sent you a note fierce as Faliero bins* II " in answer to a trashy tourist, who pretends thai be could have been introduced to me. Let me have a proof of it| that I ma} COl its lava into some shape. "What 1 rnTord Bays is very consolatory, (of the First Act.) English, sterling genuau Engh '■ is a desideratum among you, and I am glad that I have t!"' so much left ; 'I L'h Heaven knows how [retain i . thear none but from ni\ valet, and his is Nbttmghanuhin ; and I ■■■ but m your new publications, and theirs is no langu all, but jargon. Even your ' * * * is terribly suited and .ui c i-ii. n i'h ■ ' i : >/. > by so soft and pamby. "Oh! if ever I do come among von again, I will give \ on such a ' Haviad atid M.vviad !' not us good as the old, tint even better menled. There never was such a set as your i ■■■>L , tinit{ffms, (I mean not yours onlv, but every body^B.1 What with the i fockneys, and the Lakers, and l\\t follow- ers of Scott, and Moore, and Bvron, you are in the very uttermost decline and degradation of literature. I can't ■ f j mk of it without all the remdrse of a murderer. I wish hat Johnson were alive again to crush them I" 1 LETTER CCCCL. TO MR. MURRAY. u Ravenna, Sept. 14, 1820. "What! not a line ? Well, have it in your own way. "I wish you would inform Perry that his stupid para- graph is the cause of all my newspapers being stopped in Paris. f The fools believe me in your infernal country, and have not sent on their gazettes, so that I know nothing ol your beastly trial of the Queen. B I cannot avail myself of Mr. Clifford's remarks, be- cause I have received none, except on the first act. ■ Yours, &c. "P.S. Do, pray, beg the editors ofpaperato say any thing blackguard they phase; but not to put me among their arrivals. They do me more mischief by such non- sense than all their abuse can do." LETTER COCCLI. TO MR. Ml'RRAV. "Ravenna, Sept. 21, 1820. H So you are at your old trifks again. Tins is the se- ... bet I have received unaccompanied hv a single line of good, bad, or indifferent. I' is stran ••■ tl at vou have never forwarded any farther observations of< SiffbrdV How am I to alter or amend, if I hear no farther .' or does this ill ii,-i mean tl at it is well enough as it is, or too bad to be repaired ? it* the last, why do you not say so at onro, instead of playing pretty, while you know that soon or late von must out with the truth. "Yours, &c. " P. S. Mv sister tells me, that yon sent to her to in- quire where I was, believing in my arrival, ' driving a cur* * Set nOUm lo Marion Faliero. t it had bMu ivporud liial ti« bad arrived In London lo aUe-vJ 'hi U"mi . innl LETTERS, 1820. 159 ride? &c. &c. into Paa< e-yard. Do you think me a cox- comb or a madman, to be capable of such an exhibition: My sister knew m ■ better, and told you, that cmtbi not be me. You might as well have thought me enuring on 'a pale horse,' Like Death in the Revela.ions." LETTER CCCCLH. TO MR. MURRAY. * Ravenna, Sept. 23. 1820. "Get from Mr. Hobhouse, and send me a proof (.with the Latin) of my Hints from Horace: it has now the tiomtm premature tn artmtm .complete f>r its production, being written at Alliens m 1811. I have a notion thai, with some omissions of names and passages, it will do; and 1 could put my late observations for Pope among the notes, with the date of 1820, and so on. As far a-; versifi- -ation goes, it is good; and on looking back to what I wrote about that period, I am astonished to see how little I have trained on. I wrote better then than now ; but that comes of my having fallen into the atrocious had taste <>f the times. If 1 can trim it fir present publica- tion, what with the other things vou have of mine, pou will have a volume or two of variety at least, for there will be all measures, styles, and topics, whether good or no. 1 am anxious to bear what Gilford thinks of the tragedy ; pray let me know. I really do not know what to think myself If the Germans pass the Po, they will be treated to a I 9 " 8°, 1820. •FoseoloV letter is exactly the llung wanted; firmly, because he Is a man of genius; wid, next, because b«* is an Italian, and therefore the best judge of liajics. Be- Sides, ' lit '■ more an ajuique Roman lhan a Dane ;* that is, he is more of the ancient Greek than of the modern Italian. Though 'somewhat, 1 as DugoJd Dai- petty say, 'too wild and salvage,' (like 'Ronald of the JVIts,') 't is a wonderf.il man, and my Hiends Hobhoitffl and Rose both Bwear bv trim ; and they are {joud judges of men and of Italian humanity. 1 Here ni .ii .i.i tua w i 't.v Totea ^ain'ri ■.' GifTbrd says it is good ' sterling genuine English, 1 and Koscolo says that the characters arc right Venetian. Shakspeare and Otway had a million of advantage! over me, besides the incalculable one of being rftwl from one to two (futures, and having been both born blackboards, (which aiie such attractions to the gentle living reader ;) let me then preserve the only one winch I couM pj ssihly have — ihat of having been at Venice, and entered mure into the local spoil of it. I el.uio DO in re. * I know what Poscolo means about t alendaro's spttting at Bertram ; fAoC's notional — the objection, I mean. The Italians and French, with iho>e 'Hags of abomination,' their pocket-handkerchicGs, spit there, and here, and every where else — m your fare almost, and therefore object to it on the stage as too familiar. But we who soil nowhere 1 —but in a man's face when we grow savage — are not likely to feel this. Remember il/oswi/iger, and Keau's Sir Giles Overreach — * Lord ! Ihus I spit iO On-e unit nt thy CODDtel !' Resides, Calendaro does not spit in Bertrams face; he spits at him, as I have seen the Mussulmans do upon the ground when they are in a rage. Again, he does not in fact despise Bertram, thoogb he oflectS n, — as we all do, when SAgry with one we ihink OUr interior. He is angry at not being allowed to die in his own way, (although DOt afraid of death,) and recollect that he suspected and hatred Bertram from the first. Israel Bertuccio, on the other hand, is a cooler and more concentrated fellow : ho arts upon principU and impulst ; Calendaro upon impulse and example. "So there's argument for you. "The Doge repeats; — true, but it is from engrossing passion, and because he sees different persons, and is always obliged to recur to the cause uppertnosl m lus mind. His speeches are long; — true, but I wrote for the doset, and on the French and Italian model rather than yours, which I think not very highly ot, for all your old dramatists, who are long enough, too, God knows: — look into any of Uiem. 1 I return you Foscolo's letter, because it allud< to his private affairs. I am sorry to see such a man m straits, because 1 know what they are, or what they were. I never mel but three men »ho would have held out a finger m me : one was yourseUj the other William Bankes, and the oilier ;i noliK man Ions ago dead . but of these the first was the onlj one who offered i) while I natty wan ed it ; the second from good-will — but I was not in need of Bankes's aid, and would not have accepted ir if J had, (though I love and esteem him ;) — and the tidrd — " So you see that I have seen some Strange thmgS in my time. As for your own offer, it wad in 1816, when I was in actual uncertainty of rive pounds. I rejected il ; but I have not forgotten it, althoughf you probabh have. "P. S. Foscolo's Riceiunlo w;is lent, with the leave* uncut, to some Italians, now In vflleggiaiura,so that I Ua\*> had on opportunitj of hearing their decision, or of reading it. They seized on it as Foscolo's, on account of the beauty of the paper and printrag directly. If I rind it takes, I will reprint it here. The Italians think as highly • Th. p*r*pnp)i it ||K Utut Impirftcl ui tht original. f S ( i Lciwr ***, LETT Ells, 1820. 161 of Fuscolo as they can of any man, divided and miserable as they are, and with neither leisure at present to read, nor head nor hear* t<> judge of any thing but extracts frum French newspapers and the Lugano Gazette. * We are all looking at one another, like wolves on their prey in pursuit, only waiting for the first falling on to do unutterable things. They are a great world in chaos, nr in hell, which von please ; hut out of chaos came paradise, and out of hell — I don't know what; but the Deri] went in there, and he was a fine fellow once, you know. * You need never favour tne with any periodical pubti- tcepf the Edinburgh) Quarterly, and an occasional Blackwood ; or now and then a Monthly Review : for the rest 1 do not feel curiosity enough to look beyond their covers. ■ To be sure I took in the Editor of the British finely. He fell precisely into the glaring trap laid f >r him. It was inconceivable how he could be so absurd as to imagine us serious with him. * Recollect, thai if you put my name to ' Don Juan' in these ca:i*in^ days, any lawyer might oppose my guardian f my daughter in chancerv, on the plea of i:s con- ta aing the parody; — such are the |>erils of a foolish jest. I was not aware of this at the time, but you will find it ', I believe; and you may be sure that the Noek would not let it slip. Now I prefer my child to a poem at any time, and so should you, as having half a dozen. " Let me know your notions. * If vou turn over the earlier pages of the Huntingdon peerage story, vou will see how common a name Ada was in the earlv Plantasenet davs. I found it in my own pedigree in the reign of John and Henry, and gave it to my daughter. It was also the name of Charlemagne's sifter. It is in an early chapter of Genesis, as the name of the wife of Lamech ; and I suppose Ada is the femi- nine of Adam. It is short, ancient, vocalic, and had been ui my family, for which reason I gave it to my daughter. 1 * LETTER CCCCLVI. TO MR. MURRAY - . "Ravenna, S br * 12°, 1820. "Bylani and sea carriage a considerable quaniity of books have arrived; and I am obliged and grateful: but medio de fonte lcporum, surgil amah aliquid,' &c. &c. ; which, being interpreted, means, 1 I ' ni thankful for ronr boohs, dear Murray ; But why not mi J Stuit'i Moiuufcry 7 the onlv book in four living volumes I would give a baioe- colo to see — 'ha'ing the rest of the same author, and an occasional Edinburgh and Quarterly, as brief chroniclers of the urnes. Instead of this, here are Johnny Keats's * * poetry, and three novels, by God knows whom, except that there is Peg * * **s name to one of them — a spin- ster whom I thought we had sent back to her spinning. * 'rayon is very good ; Hogg's Tales rough, but RACv,and welcome. * Books of travels are expensive, and I do n*t want bavins travelled already ; besides, they lie. Thank the author of' die Profligate 1 for his (or her) present. Prat s<*nd me no more poetry but what is rare and decidedly good. There is such a trash of Keats and the like upon my 'ables that I am ashamed to look at them. I say nothing against your parsons, your Smith's, and your L'nlv's — it is all very fine — hut pray dispense me from tii» pleasure. Instead of poetry, if you will favour me with a few soda-powders, I shall be delighted but all prose (Tja jng travel* and novels not by Scott) is wel- come, es(ieciallv Scott's Tales of .My Landlord, and soon. " In the notes to Marino Fait era, it mav as be well to 64y that ' Benintcnde' was not really of the Ten % but merely Grand Cftonocfcr, a separate office, (although important); it was an arbitrary alteration of mme. The Doges too were all buried m St JLtrk's before Faliero. It is sin EUUV that when, his predecessor, Andrea Dandolo, died, the Ten marie a law that all die future Dn«es should be buried with their Jam dies, in their own churches, — one UMJtdd U,iiJi by a kind of presentiment. So that all that is said of his ancestral Dolts, as boned at Si. John's and Paul's, is altered from the (act, they bang in St. Mark's Make a note of tliis, and put Editor as Uie subscription to ir. * As I make such pretentions to accuracy, I should not like in he twitted even with such trifles on that score. Ot the play they niav say what they please, but not so of my costume and dranupers. they having been real existences. " I omitted Foscoto. in my list of living Venetian uvirthies in the notes, considering him as an Italian in general, and not a mere provincial like the rest; and as an Italian I have spoken of him in the preface to canto 4uS of Childe Harold. " The French translation of us ! ! ! ohrib '. m'ml! — and the German ; but I do n't understand the latter, and his ong dissertation ai the end about the Fausts. Excuse haste. Of politics it is not safe to speak, but nothing is decided as vet. " I am in a very fierce humour at not having Scott's M mastery. — You are too liberal in quantity, and some- what careless of the quality, of your missives. All the Quarterlies (four in number) I had had before from vou, and ttm of the Edinburgh ; but no matter, we shall have new ones bv-and-by. No more Keats, I entreat : — flay him alive ; if some of you do n't, I must skin him myself. There is no bearing the drivelling idiotism of the manikin. " I do n ? t feel inclined to care farther about ' Don Juan.' What do you think a very pretty Italian lady said tome the other day ') She had read it in the French, and paid me some compliments, with due drawbacks, upon it. I answered that what she said was true, but that I sus- pected it would live longer than Childe Harold. — i Ak i but, (said she,) '/ would rather hate the fame of Childe Harold for three years then an immortality of /Jon JuanT The truth is thai it is TOO tkue, and the women hate many things which strip off the tinsel of sentiment ; and they are right, as it would rob them of their weapons. I never knew a woman who did not hate De Gramnumti Memoirs tor the same reason: even Lady * * used to abuse them. "Rose's work I never received. It was seized at Venice. Such is the liberality of the Huns, with their two hundred thousand men, that they dare not let such a volume as his circulate." LETTER CCCCLVn. TO MR. MT'HRAV. 21 "Ravenna, 8^ 16°, 1820 " The Abbot has just arrived ; many Utftnks ; as also for the Monastery — uViett you send U ! ! I " The Abbot will have a more than ordinary interest fi»r me, for an ancestor of mine by the mother's side, Sir .1 . Gordon of Gight, the handsomest of his day, died on a seatlohl at Aberdeen for his loyalty to Mary, of whom he was an imputed paramour as well as her relation. His fate was much commented on in the Chronicles of the times. If I mistake not, he had something to do with her escape from Loch Leven.or with her captivity Uiere. But this you will know better Uian I. u I recollect Loch Leven as it were but yesterday. I saw it in my way to England, in 1798, being then ten years of age. My mother, who was as haughty as Luci- fer with her descent from the Stuarts, and her right hna from tiio old Gordons, not t!ie Seylon Gordons,as she dis- 162 LK'i* T E R S, [820 dainfullj I ■ ducal bran h always reminding me how erG rdons were to iii«' southern Byrons, — notwithstanding 01 i always mascuUn i di ''in. which has never lapsed into a as my mother's Gordon had done in tit.' r own person. "I have written to pan bo ofi n lately that the brevity of this will be welcome. " Yours, &.c." LETTER CCCCLVlIt TO JMIl. MURHAV. « Rai ■ ' 1P L 20. "Kncloaed is the Dedication of Marino Faliero to Goethe. Query, — is Ins title Boron or u<-\ ' I think yes. Let me know youropi u, and bo forth. '• P. s. Let me know whal .Mr. Hob] tided about the two pros* l' ' .1 tion " I enclose you an Italian ab trac ofthi I rman trans- la tor of Manfred's Appendix, in which j luwill ;■ 1 what Goethe says ol the i poetry, (and not of me in particular). < to 'Ins the Dedi- cation is founded] as you will perceive, though I had thought of ii before, fur I look upon him as a great man.''' ** Dcdicuiiun to Huron GoethCj &C &C. &C Kt 8XR, "'In the Appendix to an English work lately lated into German and published at Leipsic, a r iif vmrs ii|hiii Kn^lish poetry is quoted as follow ■ : : Thai in English poetry, great genius, universal power, a feeling of profundity, with suffit i< nt I be found ; but that altogether these do not conatitutt poets? Wi I regret, to see a ^'"nt man (ailing into a gn i n take, 'l in opinion of yours only proves that the " Di* - tumary of ten thousand in in I 'ngUsh authors* hws not been translated into German. You will have read, in your friend Schlegel's \- rsi >n, the dialogue in Macbeth — " There me ten thnuanm) I Mncbcth. G< . , , \, .Lin, : Antv>er. Authort Now, of these " ten thousand authors," there are actually nineteen hundred and eighty-seven poets, all alive at this moment, whatever their works may be, as their 1 1 well know ; and among these there are several who pos- sess a far greater reputation than mine, alt! h consi- derably less than yours. It is owing to this w the pari of your German translators that you arc not aware of the works of * * * * 1 There is also another, named * "'I mention these poets byway of sample to enlighten you. They form but two bricks of our Babel, (U , by-the-way,) but ma pecunen of the building. "'It is, moreover, asserted thai i i : of the w hole b vou ; but this wi c : I am always flip] i bj I really ami warmly do, in common with all your own, and with most other na to I" - by for the first literary I iid feel, [< sirous work, — nol as [cannot proni iunce upon its pi e either ot or the other, i i or neither,) but a i in Germany ■'tiij: ORE IT noi.i BE." r to be, " • with the li n \ lient buml I 51 riant, «'Byi i ■ ■ ■ »] ; " P. s. 1 perceive that in ' icrmany, as well a-- b I there is a j and ( Romnniir' — term! > no) subjects i r or five o. E onie of the I n is true, abused Pope and Sv.it'. but the reason -was tha themselves did nol know how to write either prose or verse . but nob< i them worth ma! ti Perhaps there may bi 1 'oi,. h about it, and it such ba Li:i l ER O • I. IX. - " I •■ You owe mc two them. I want '*> know w duI. The summer it will be back lo P V' ipos of Paris, it was not , Sophia Go y — the English word Gay — i my correspondent. Can you tell who* ■ * .' " Have j mi j on w ith youi poem } I the French ol ■ Only think of being; traduced into a It IS . 1 i tion. Shall [send it j far as it is gone .' " I can't sav any th n »ut Italy, for the Go- vernment I*' re look upon me with a uspicr as i ye, as I am well informed. Prcttj f I, a ,i n, ■■ i , . ■ ■ ' ■■ I ■ tire 1 of rifle and pis t buli hay took the LETTERS, 1820. 163 nlarm at the quantity of cartridges I consumed] — the a res! " You don't deserve a long letter — nor a letter i ' all — ■ i ■ ilence- you h i\ e L r »t a new Bourbon, i : Dieu-donnl ;' — perhaps the m di muted. Did you write m , the Laker ? * * " The ■ nade a pretty theme for the j here ever such evidence published? Why it is i i : N ' [fyoudon'1 write soon, I will ■ make you a spi " Yours, &c." LETTER CCCCLX. TO UK. MURRAY. "Ravenna, &*" 25,1820. " Pray forward the enclosed to Lady Byron. It is on '•In thanking you for the Abbot, I made four grand . m was not of Gight^ but o! i He suffered not for insurrection. He ha I with Loch Lei iment : and, fourth ; I ■ i tour or no, for - noi aUudi to is unfortunate) ! '■ T mu listakes in re ■ mv m ither's a • >un ; : . 111 j precise upon le had a . like Sir Lucius O'Trigger's, mosi i. mi I in the old Scotch < Ihronicles, Spalding, &c. in arms and I i. I remember ren, as well g Kerry : we weri in 1798. n Yours. "You had better not publish Blackwood and the ■ urds Pope; — you have let liit tin LETTER CCCCLXI. TO MR. MURRAY. "Ravenna. ! 6 1 have received f ters, duplicates, ami receipts, which will explain in- are your property by pu ice, u. 7 matter* ■ you to decide upon. I know not how far my compliance w ith Mr. Galignani's requi si I doubt tliat it would not b I range with him i i ■:. o exert the pow< r you justly pel 'v. I will hat to state that the letters to you, and the causes ■ t; If you can - in the fire. I can have no ; whatever, but to secure to you your property. * Yot i ■ . "P.S. I have read part of the Quarterly jusl ■ iwles shall be answered:— he is n ■ from htm ■ ■ real nlier*, in hts statement about English Bards and Scotch Re- They support Pope, I see, in the Quarterly; ti t them continue to do so: it is a sin, and a shame, and m to think that Pope!! should require it — but he does. Those miserable mountebanks of the day, the j" lets, disgrace thi mselves and deny God in running down Pope, the most faultless of poets, and almost of men. LETTER CCCCLXII. TO MR. MOORE. B Ravenna, Nov. 5, 1820. "Thanks f.nh. f shall he a' Bowles again, if he is not quiet. He mis* states, or mistakes, in a point or two. The paper is finished, and so is ihu letter. * Yours, &c." LETTER CCCCLXITT. TO MR. Ml'RKAV. "Ravenna, s*" 9, 1P20. "The talent you approve of .is ;m amiable one, and might prove a l national service, 1 but turfbrtunaiely I must be angry with a man before I draw his real portrait; and f can't deal in l generals} so that I trust never to have pro- vocation enough to make a (/* tilery. If 'the parson' bad not by many little dirty sneaking traits provoked il, I should have been silent, though I hatl ubtenoedlum. Here follows an alteration: put — " Deri), with inch -lelieht In itnmnirig, Th.it ll Hi il" ri->n ir, ll.'ll Luto him tin fret ikiimii Of biM Inline i'. nil. I In- gWeili T would ba nutiar 11. II Uiuu Heaven ; that is to say, if these two new lines do not too much lengthen out and weaken the amiability of the original thought and expression. You have a discretionary power about showing. I should think tl.it ( Viler would not disrelish a Bight of these light little humorous things, and may be indulged now and then. "Why, I do like one or two vires, to be sure; but I can hack a horse and fire a pistol 'without thinking or blink- ing' like Major Sturgeon; I have fed at limes (or two months together on sheer biscuil and water, (without me- taphor I can u' 1 " 1 over seventy or eighty miles ;i day riding post, and swim Jive ai u stretch, as at Venice, in 1818, or at least I an/hi 'In, and have done it once. "I know Henry Matthews; he is the image, to the very voice, of his brother Charles, only darker — his cough his in particular. The first time I ever met him was in Scrope Davies's rooms after Ins brother's death, and I nearly dropped, thinking that it was his gnoSt. I have also dined with him in his rooms at Kind's College. Uobhouse once Durposed a similar Metuoit but f am afraid the letters of Charles's correspondence with me (which are at Whit ton with my other papers) would hardly do for the public ; for otir lives were not over strict, and our letters somewhat la* upon most subjects. ***** "Last week I sent you a correspondence with Galig nam, and some documents on your property. You have now, I lliink, an opportunity of checkings or at least limit- ing diose French republications. You may let all your authors publish what they plvas< against mt and mine* A pi blish r i- no . and cannot l> , responsible [bs ail die works thai issue Cora his printi <-■ •• The ' \N hi i- Lady of Avenel, 1 i- not in a >'ui tetU authenticated (' Donna BiancsQ White Lady of Colalto, or spectre in me Marca Trivigiana, who ha* been repeatedly seen. There is a man (a bUBlSinau) now alive who saw her also. Hoppner i ou d U '■ ■ ai b I about her, and so can Rose, perhaps. I myself have no doubt of the fact, historical and spectral. Sb< appeared on particular oo at ion , beibre the death family, Si':, etc. I beard Madame Benzoin say, that she knew a gentleman whu had seen her cross his ro m at Colalto Castle. iloppner saw and spoke with ihe hunts- man, who met her at the chase, and never hunted after- ward, she was a girl attendant, who, one day dressing the hair if a Count ess Colalto, was seen b] her mistress to smile upon her liu band m the glass. The Countess had her shm un in Lite wall of the castle, like Constance Ic Beverly. Kver after, she haunted them and all the Colaltos. She is described as very beautiful and fair. It is well authenticated. LETTER CCCCLXIV. TO MR. MURRAY. "Ravenna, 9 br * 18, 1820. " The death of Waite* is a shock to the — teeth, as wet as to the feelings of all who knew him. Good (Jod, he and Blake] both gone! I left them both in the mosi ro- bust health, and little thought of the national loss in so short a time as five years. They were both as much mperiot to Wellington in rational greatness, u be who preserves tlie hair and the teeth is preferable to ' iho bloody blustering warrior' who gains a name bv breaking leaih and kiineknig out grinders. Who succeeds him .' Where is tooth-powder, viidi, and vei efficacious — where is tincture — -where are cleajing-rooCi and ancsnjsi now to be obtained ' Pray oh'ain what mfjrmation you can upon these ' 7V*rulan questions.' My jaws ache to think on't. Poor fellows! I anticipated seeing both again; md yet they are gone to lhat place where both teeth and hair last longer than they do in this life. I have sw n a i sand graves opened, and alv ays j» roehred, that what- ivor was gone, the teeth and hair remain with those wIm had died with them. I- n il this od 1 .' They go I first things in youth, aid yet last the longest tu tl if people will but du to preserve them! It b a queer life and a queer death, thai of mortals. '• 1 knew thai Ware had married, but tittle thought thai the other decease was so soon to overtake him. Then he was such a dolight, such n coxcomb, sued s jewel of a man! There is a tailor at Bologna so like him! and also at the top of his profession. Do not neglect this commission. Who or what can replace him / \\ hnX ays the public ? "I remand you the Preface. Don't forget that the Italian extract from the Chronicle must be bwudated. With regard to what you say of retouching the Joans and the Hulls, it is all very well ; but I can't furhlxh. I am like the tiger, (in poesy,) if I miss the first spring I go Hii Deo un. t A ct loUuU-d liiur dia LETTERS, 1820. 165 [ can t growling back to my jungle. There is no second iorrect ; 1 can't, and I won't Nobody ever succeeds in it meat or small. Tasso remade the whole of his Jera- sa em , but who ever reads that version? all the work) roes to the first. Pope added to ' The Rape of the Lock, but did not reduce it. You must take my things as Ule) happen to be. If they arc not likely to suit, reduce then atimate accordingly. I would rather give them iwaj than hack and hew them. I don't say that you are ... right ; 1 merely repeat that I cannot better 1 ei her make a spoon or spoil a horn;' - end. 'P.S. Of the praises of that Irtlle Why ' Soloinuti's Guide to icin. I must and there 's an " Yours. * + * Keats, 1 shall observe, as Johnson did when Sheridan the aclor got a pension, ' What ! has he got a pension ! Then It is time that I should give up mine." Nobody could be prouder of the praise of the Edinburgh than I was, or more alive to their censure, as I showed in English Hauls and Scotch Reviewers. At present, all Ok men they have ever praised are degraded by that insane article. don't they review and praise Health ?' it is better sense and as much poetry as Johnny Reals. " Bowles must be howled down. 'T is a sad match at cricket if lie eiin get anv notches at Pope's expense. If h- once oet inlo ' lyn-.fs ground,' (lo continue the pun, be- , uige ii is I ish,) I think I could beat him in one inn- „, « You did not know, perhaps, thai I was once (not metaphorically, but reo%) a good cricketer, particularly in balling, and I played in the Harrow match against the Etonians in 1S0S, gaining more notches (as one of our , hosen eleven) than any, except Lord Ipswich and Brook- man, on our side." LETTER CCCCLXV. TO MR. MURRAV. » Ravenna, 9>"» 12, 1820. "Wha' you saiil of the late Charles Skinner Matthews has set me to inv recollections ; bin I have not been able to turn up any thing which would do fir the purposed Me- moir of his brother, even if he had previously done enough durui" his life to sanction the introduction ol anec- dotes°so merely personal. He was, however, a very ex- traordinary man, and would have been a great one. No one ever succeeded in a more surpassing degree than he did, as far as he went. He was indolent 'oo; but when- ever he stripped, he overthrew all an agoni its. His con- quests will be found registered at Cambridge, panic ilai I) his Dawning one, which was hotly and highly COO estud, and ye! ea ily won. Hobhouse was Ins most intimate friend, and can tell you more of him than any man. Wi - hum Bankea also a great d nl. I myself reco leel in ire of his oddities than ofhisacad imicalqua'.i ies,l » we! ved most together at a very idle period of my life. When 1 went up°io Trinity in 1805, at the age of seventeen and a half, I was miserable and untoward to a degree. I was wretched at leaving Harrow, to which I had be< i - tached during the last two years of my stay there ; wretched at gom« to < iambridge instead of Oxf >rd, (there were no rooms vacant atChrisichueh,) wretched from some prival domestic circumstances i.f different kmds,and consequent!) about as unsocial as a wolf taken from die troop. So that, although I knew Matthews, and met him of.en Oven at Banker's, (who wa my colic |iate pastor, and master, and patron,) and at Rhode's, Milne's, Price's, Dick's, Muc- namara's, Fan 'ell's, Galley Km ■ht's. and others of thai set of contemporaries, yel I«a- neither intimate with him no, with anv else, exeept my old schoolfellow Edward Long (with whom I used to pass the day in riding and swim- ming,) and William Bankes, who was good-natured!;, tolerant of inv ferocities. « It was not till 1 S07, after I had been upwarJs of a yoai away fom Cambridge, to which I had returned again io reside for my degree, that I became one of Mauhews's familiar , by means of Hobhouse, who, af er haling me for two years, because I 'wore a olutc lull and a gray coat, and rode a groj horse,' (as he says himself) took me into his good "races because I had written some poetry. I had always lived a good deal, and got drunk occasionally, in their company ; bin now we became really friends in a morning. Matthews, however, was not at this period re- sident ui college. Imet him chiefly in London, and at uncertain periods at Cambridge. Hobhouse, m the mean time, did great things: he founded the Cambridge ' Whig Club.' (winch he seems to have forgotten,) and the ' Ami- cab . S iciety,' which was dissolved in consequence of the men, hers constantly quarrelling, and made himself very popular with 'us youth,' and no less formidable to all tutors, professors, and heads of colleges. William Bankes was gone ; while he stayed, he ruled the roast, or rathe; the roasting, and was fallier of all mischiefs. "Matthews and I, meeting in London, and elsewhere, became greal cronies. He was not good-tempered— nor am I— hut with a little tact bis temper was manageable, and I thought him so superior a man, that I was willing to sacrifice something to Ins humours, w Inch were ol.en, at the same time, amusing and provoking. What became of his p. vers, (and he certainly had many,) at the lime ol his death, was never known. I mention ihis by the way fear- ing lo skip it over, and as he wrote remarkably well, both in Latin and English. We went down lo Newstead to- gether, where I had got a famous cellar, and monks' dresses from a masquerade warehouse. We were a com- pany of some seven or eight, with an occasional neighbour or so for visiters, and used to sit up late in our friars' dresses, drinking Burgundv, claret, champagne, and what not, out of the skull-dp, and all sorts of glasses, and buf- fooning all round the house, in our conventual garments. Matthews always denominated me ' the Abbot,' and never called me by any other name in his good humours, to ihe day of his death. The harmony of these our symposia was somewhat interrupted, a few days af: er our assembling, bv Mauhews's threatening to throw ' bold Webster,' (as he vvas called, from winning afoot-match, and a horsc-malch, the first from Ipswich to London, and the second from Bnglilhelmstone,) by threatening to dvrow 'bold Web- ster 3 ' out of a window, in consequence of I know not what commerce ofjokes ending in this epigram. Webster came tome and said, that 'his respect and regard for me as host would not permit bun to call out any of my guests, and that he should go to town next morning.' He did. It was in vain that I represented to him that the window was not high, and thai the turf under it was particularly soft. Away lie went. « .Ma "hews and mvse'.f had travelled down from Lon- don together, talking all the way incessantly upon one single tonic. When we got to Loughborough, I know not wha cha m had male us diverge for a moment to oiher subject, at which he was indignant. 'Come, some said he, 'don't let us break through— let us go on as we began, to our journey's end;' and so he continued, and was en.ortai«ing as ever to the very end. He had previously occupied, .hiring my year's absence from Cambridge, my room, in Trinity, with the furniture; and Jones the tutor, in Ids odd way, had said on putting him in, 'Mr. .Mat- thews, 1 re, mend to ynur at ention not to damage any of the moveables, f.r Lord Byron, sir.is a young man of tumulhmu passions.' Matthews was delighted with ibis; in I whenever am body came to visit him, begged them to um, I!.- the very door with caution; and used to repeat lones'a admoni'ion, in his Ii and manner. There was a lar_'o mirror in the room, on which he remarked, 'Ihal he thought lii- friends were grown uncommonly assiduous in ,min" to we /am, but he soon discovered thai they only , un to H« Oiem&lvcs.' Jones's phrase of 'tumultuous potions! ,md the whole scone had put linn into such good 1GG LETTER i believe] thai I owed to itaj 'When al Newslead, somebody by accidenl i against one of his whii" kin ■■ . one do befor dinner; of course the gentleman a Sir, 1 an- i.::>. ■ i .. < be all very well for you, who havi a gi :i lint t.» in*-, who kii i I cm ii he Abbot h op< n- ttie for such carelessn i tie bad lite same sorl of droll sardonic way about hing. A wild [rislunan, nam d I ' in be n :| , a rm hing at a argi suppei Vlatihews roared out 'Silence! 1 and then, pointing l.> K * - q the words of the ora . rtdou ■ d h .ili — ■ a.' i"ou may i b thai < ><- sun losi whai reasot uired, on bearing this comp 11 1 1- ni. When Hobhouse pul poems, the Miscellany (whii i would call the 1 Mt*s- ■<.!,'-< i hi/.') ah the could be drawn from nun was, that tic prefai i ' I □ ■ v . I . tliought ibis al first a coi it; but we never could make out whai ii was, for all we know ol IVaUh is bis i kie to R in ■ epithet of ' fcnmtmg fValsJi.' When the Newstead party broke up for Lon- don, Hobhou o and Matthews, who were the greatest fi lends possibl I, for a w aim, to i i ■ ■ town. They quai relied by thi in r , a id ac ■ the latter half of their joui n repassing) without speaking. When Matthews had gol . ate, he had speni all his money but threepence halfpenny, an.d determined to spend thai also in a pint of beer, which I believe he was drin a public 1 si , as l lobhouse passed him (still without p fur the last Dine on iheii i iul rhey were London again. K One of Matthews^ pa Bionswas the { the Fani he sparred uncommonly well. But he alv in rows, or combats with the bare fist, [n Bwimn he bw am well ; bul with $cri and laboWj and too ■ of the water; so thai Scropo Davies and myself of whom he was thei ein tys told him thai he would be drowned if ever he came to a difficult pass in the water. He was so; bul surely Scrope and my- seU would have been most heard] gla I that "'The Dc ml lived, *iul our i" g lii " w pi "■>< 'i i It*. 1 "His head was uncommonly handsome, very like what /' W .i hi Ins youth. u His voice, and laugh, and feafj '-- re- ■ d by his brother Henry's, if Henry be fu of King* t 'oil ■■< . lii- pa »ion for boxing was ■■■■ i great, thai hi ai - tually wanted me to match him with Do I had backed and made the match for a ainsi Tom Bel- cher,) and 1 saw then! partogi er a nry own lodgings m i Ii the gloves on. \ upon it, I would havi bad ed ; pl< b e him] bul the match went off Itwe "i cour te to havi been a private light in a ^i^-y room. "On one "<-' a i m, b< in \ too late to i 1 1 equipped by ;i friend, (Mr. Ba . i b i< ve,) in a ma m.i. lyfii nabli ■ m am! neckcloth. He proceeded to the Opi - nd look Ins stati 'ii in Fopla Alley. 1 'ui o] ' ra and the ballet, an acnua ntance t< >ok hi ■■ him, and saluted him: l C i i ■■■■ Vlatihews, come round.' 'Why should 1 come round? 1 said the other; 'you hav< ly to turn your head I am i you. 1 'Thai i- exactly what 1 cannot do,' answered Matthews : 'don't you bi a the state 1 am in?' pointing to his buckram Bhirt-collar, and inflexible cravat^ a he stood with his head always in the saute parol position during the whole spectacle. "One evening, after dining together, as we were goiii£ i ticket, ■ bei to a box,) and to Matthews. ' Now, sir, 1 said he to —another man woi it I i do bi tier with half a guinea than to a do t is a man n I asks me to dinner, bul These wen for no man wa or more hon arable in all lis doings Matthews. He gave 1 we Bet out for Constantinople, a most spl< i which we did amp e justice. I ■ him, in I ku.>w not what < hat do ■ ■ ■ ,. ' Why, that he I illbij 1 1 '.m.i. ■ ■ .■■' on. Tins lie mfort of being covered al meo -ti ■ ■■ w hen Su 1 1 at ) Smith n Cam for ;i row witfi a i r. l . ■ himself with shouting under Huron's ■•■ i sningj • Ah nu ' i . Uiron.* u He was also of thai I and of p under the auspices of ' ' " ', usi ■■■ Man- se! (late bishop of Bristol ) from of Trinity, and when hi I the window ti with wrath, and crying out, 'I know you, gent! i tnow you! 1 were won to i 'We beseech ihei to good /.'"/ — gi I ivi i us! 1 (I.ort was i tian name.) A- he was very free in his specu- lations upon b I ' ind ol iduct, and as I i n and corresnon- luselo aconsiderable ******* •■ 'i i iu musl : Mich will ■ ■■ Salute CSifli >rd and all m i, &C * LETTER CCCCLXVI. TO MR. MURRAY. :■ ■ ., ■ "The ( Hints, 1 1 1 - i d deal : ing to suit Hi 1 1, i.- i, which vill bi a woi I ■ for T it.' n'i feel at all laboi ii efieel they are to have wou i or in a f also musl ■■■ ■ nrj nai ■■ Now, if you ■ i ■ ■ !i Don .i ian, ll ' ■■ idi ntiij Don Ji u a n In . whi< h 1 do n'i think . as in youi tit i ufficient to take away an I .. ere it h ould I"- difficult and i ; ,. . . ., njng a |[ letters. I wonder it' they can n ad them when iht ■ opcm 'I ■ HAND, THAT 1 rHINXTHEM J Ml.H-AMi it vim a hi ws, and tbsib bmpj aon b fool, and them- ■ \ ienna R»i an; thing I care. 1 of the Papal police, and an iway: but .,.,,,',, r m be voiy ...■■ii. because th< I among themselves; but I suppose thai Providence «iil get tired of them at last, ****** '' Yours, &c* LETTERS. 1-20. 167 LETTER CCCCLXVH. TO MR. MOOHE. "Ravenna, Dec. 9 a Besides 'his letier, 3 more sheets of ? re in postage than th duce bv being printed .in the next century. Ins : the way of reversion, (thai is, af er my det should be very glad, — as, with all due regard to your far von to your grandchildren. Would not ■i a certain sum note, ! fill after my decease, think yo — ■ power : beca s, a thing or the public. If I consent to dd be the barm? Taste? may change. I would, in your case, make m -;>ose of them, not pub i-!-. now ; an i . and, above ail, contradict any thinu, if I Lave ma-stated ; for my first, object is the ven at my ownezpen ir covntrynxui several letters ■ [ should probably have been now, in j of wild i him, mixed with a due leaven of absurdity, — as there must be in all talent let loose upon the world with- out a martingale. " Th seem still to persecute the Queen x * * * * * * * bur they of b— cs. Damn reform — I want a place — what say ■ ink of the intention. ■ I have quantities of paper in England, original and translated — tra redy,&c & : a id a a n iw c ipyinjjoul a Fifth Canto of Don Juan, 149 stanzas. So that there wiil be near three thin Albemarle, Of lumes of all sorts of mv Muses. I mean to plunge thick. the contest upon Pope, anil to lay till I make manure of " ■ the top of Para a Thos - — — do n't we ?* You shall se — iat things I . 'an it pleases Pr But in these parts tii war ; and there is to be libertv, and a row. an — i hen they ■hem. But I won't talk politics — it is low. Lei if the Gfcueen, and her bath, and her bottle — that 's motley now-a- " If there are any acquaintances of mine, salute them. The priests here are Drying to \>- -but no LETTER CCCCLXVm. TO MR. MOORE. " Ravenna. T show the country better than I can. The comman- dan'tof the f r ■. mj dead in my house. He •• at a little p ■ Jc, about two - ■ tame la Contessa G. wha 1 I into the hall,! I ■ ■ .'laid, u if ibev would tulit,"at U* rt« of itte frmtcr i. - — ** * See Dw Juan Canto V Surxs 33. ingthat a man was murdered. I immediate!? ran Tita ( he bravest of hem] lo-fol iwme. ing, a- it is the for even- body here, it seems, to run away from 'the I .leer.' "However, down we ran, and found him lying on his most, if no; quite, dead, with five wounds, the heart, two in the stomach, one in the finuer, and the other in the arm. S hcrscocked their guns, and wanted to hinder me from passing. However, wepassed, und Diego, the adjutant, crying over him !i';e a child — a surgeon, who said nothmg of his profession — a bbmg a frightened prayer — and the commandant, all this time, on bis back, on the pavement, with* iiing around him but confu- sion and dismay. ' As nohodv could, or would, do anv thing hut howl and pray, and as no one would stir a linger to move him, fur fear of consequences, I lost mv patience — made my errant and a couple of the m.b take up the body — I off two soldiers to the suard — despatched Dieso to the Cardinal with the new?, and had the commandant earned - into my own quarter. But it was too late, be was gone — not at ail disfigured — b'ed inwardly — not above an ounce or two came out. "I had him pai — made the surgeon examine him, and examined him mvself. He had been shot by cut balls, or slu^s. I felt one of the slugs, which ba .im, aJl but the skin. Every body conjectures why he was killed, but nooi how. The gun was found close bv him — an old you, (if j ou wool' I allow me,) until wo could see whether one means or her (the success of the pan, t >r instance) would nut make it quite easy for you, as well as y.nir family ; and, in anj case, we should have some fun, ■ ■■ imp 1 ling correcting, supposing, inspecting, and sopping 1 igelherover our lucubrations. If you think this worth a thought, lei me know, and I will begin to lay in a small literary capital of composi 1 'ii for the occasion. " Yours ever affectionately, ■ B. tt P.S. If you thought of a mi Idle plan between n SJpec- tator and a newspaper, why not'/ — onlj nol on a Sunday. Nol that Sunday is not an excellent day, bul it is engaged already. We will call it the 'Tends Rossa, 1 the Dame Tassoni pave an answer of Ins in a controversy, in allu- Bionto the delicaje hint of Timour the Lame, lo his ene- mies, by a ' Tends 1 of thai colour, before he gave battle. Or we will call it l Gli,' or 'I Carbonari, 1 it' n so please vou — or any oilier name full of 'pastime and prodigality, 1 which you may prefer. ****** Let me have an answer. I conclude poetically, with the bellman, A merry Christinas to you!'" were no: a burden to whomsoever he mi^ht sar*< unda ,■,-■ B . 1. nhat< m r place the Ncapoli an . menl might point ou . lh< re bej the ard< rs an cipateinthe dangers of his commanding officer, any other motive than ilia? of sharing the destiny of 1 brave na it a, defending itseif against the sclln ailed Holy A lian :c, which bul combines the vice of hypocrisy with 1 -m." ADDRESS TO THE NEAPOLITAN GOVERNMENT. [Translation from the original fiatian.] ■ An Englishman, a friend to liberty, having understood that the Neanoli ans permit even foreigners tocontribuie to In- good cause, is desirous thai they should do him the honour of accepting a thousand louis, winch he 'a! es the liberty of offering. Having already, nol long since, been an ocular witness of the despotism of the Barbarians in the S'a'es occupied hv them in [faly, he s- ■■■■*■*, with the enthusiasm natural to a cultivated man, thegenerouj deter- m' nation of the Neanoli' ana to assert their well-won independence. As a member of the Eng'ish House of Peers, he wool I be a traitor to the princi ties which 1 lac ■>' the reigning family of England on (he throne^ if he were not grateful for the noble lesson so lately given both to people and to kings. The offer winch he desires to make i^ small in itselfj as must always be thai presen'ed from an nnhvidual to a nation ; hut he trusts tha' ii "ill nol be the last they will receive from his countrymen. His distance from the frontier, and the feeling of his personal inca] si it} to contribute efficaciously to the service of the na 1 n, prevents him from proposing himself a-^ worthy of the lowest commission, f >r which experience and ta^enl might be requisite. Rut if, as a mere volunteer, hu presence LETTER CCCCLXX. TO MR. MOORE. "Ravenna, Jan. 2, 1821. "Your entering into my project for tie Mamoii a pleasant tome. Bui I doubl (contrary to my deai Mad* M.li !•' * *, whom 1 always loved, and always shall — not only because I really did feel attached to her peraonotfy, but because she and about a dozen others of thai sex were all who stuck l>v me in the grand conflict of 18161 — bul I doubt, 1 say, whether the Memoir could in my lifetime ; — and, indeed, 1 had rather it did not, tor a man always boksdead after his Lift has appeared, and I should certes nol survive 'he appearance of mine. The first part 1 cannot consent to alter, even although Mad* de Stael's opinion of Benjamin I lonsiant, and my remarks upon Lady Caroline's beauty, (which is surely great, and I suppose that I have said so— at least, I ought,) should go down to our grandchildren in unsophis- ticated nakedness. " As to Madam* de Staet, I am by no means hound to be her head man — she was always more civil to me in person than during mv absence. Our dear defunct friend, Matthew l.ewi>, who was too great a bore ever to lie, assured me, upon his tiresome word of honour, that, al Florence, the said Madame de Stael was open-fnotflVuH against me; and, when asked, m $tiil:rrlant/,ulty --he had changed her opinion, replied, with laudable sincerity, that I had named her in a sonnet with Voltaire, Rous- eeail, &c. &c. and that she could not help it, through decency. Now, I have not forgotten this, bul I have bet n generous, — as mine acquaintance, the late ( Captain \\ hi l\ of the navv, used to say to his seamen (when 'married to the gunner's daughter 1 ) — 'two dozen, and let you off easy.' The ' two dozen' were with the cat-*- nine-tans; — the 'let you off easy' was rather his own opinion than that of :he patient. "Mv acquaintance with these terms and practices arises from my having been much conversant with ships of war and naval heroes in the years of my voys the Mediterranean. Whitby was in the gallant acrton off Lisas hi is]!. He was brave, but a disciplinarian 1 When he lefl his frigate, he left anarrotf, which was tan hv the crew 'he following sounds — (It must be remark* d that ( 'aptam Wnilby was ihe image of Faweetl uV in v lice, face, and figure, and that he squinted.) " The Parrot fomatur. KI Whitby! Whitby! funny eye! funny eye! two rtu- zeii, and let vou off* easy. Oh von !' " Now, if Madame de H ha-- a parrot, it had better be taught a French parody of the same sounds. B With regard (o our purposed Journal, I will rail it what von pit a ■', bul it should be a newspaper, to make it pay. VVe can call it ' The Harp,' if you like — or any thing. B I feel exactly as vou do about our 'art, 1 hut it comey over me in a kind of rage every now and men, like * * * * and then, if I don't write to empty my mind, I go mad. As to that regular, uninterrupted love of writing, which youdescribe in your friend, I do not understand it. 1 feel it as a torture, which I must -jet rid of, hut never as a pleasure. On the contrary, I think composition a great pain. " I wish you to think seriously of the Journal scheme— for I am as serious as one can be, in this world, about LETTERS, 162!. 169 ary thing. As to matters here, they are high and mighty — but noi for paper. It is much about the state of things bf tween Cain and Abel. There is, in fact, no law or government at all; and it is wonderful how well things g » on without them. Excepting a few occasional mur- ders, (every bodv killing whomsoever he pleases, and being killed, m turn, by a friend, or relative, of the de- f! net,) there is as quiet a society and as merry a Carni- val as can be met with in a tour through Europe. There is nothing like habit in these thmgs. "I shall remain here till May or June, and, unless •honour comes unlookcd-fur,' we may perhaps meet, in France- or England, within the year. " Yours, &c. ■Of course, I cannot explain to you existing circum- stances, as they open all letters. "Will you set me right about your cursed ' Champs Elvsees?' — are thev 'eV or 'ees' for the adjective? I know nothing of French, being all Italian. Though I can r*-ad and understand French, I never attempt to speak it; for I hate it. From the second part of the Memoirs cut what you please." LETTER CCCCLXXI. TO MR. MURRAY. "Ravenna, January 4, 18-1. * I just see, bv the papers of Galignani, that there is a new tragedy of great expectation by Barry Cornwall.* Of what T have read of his works I liked the Dramatic Sketches, but thought his Sicilian story and Marcian Colonna, in rhvme, quite spoiled, by I know not what affectation of VVordsworth, and Moore, and myselfj — all mived up into a kind of chaos. I think him very likely to produce a good tragedv, if he keep to a natural style, and not play tricks to form harlequinades for an audience. As he (Barrv Cornwall is not his true name) was a schoolfellow of mine, I take more than common interest in his success, and shall be glad to bear of it speedily. If I had heen aware that he was in that line, I should have spoken of him in the preface to Marino Faliero. He will do a world's wonder if he produce a great tragedy. I am, however, persuaded, that this is not to be done by following the old dramatists, — w-ho are full of gross faults, pardoned only f>r the beauty of their language, — but by writing naturally and regularly, and producing regular tragedies, like the Greeks; but not in imitation, — merely the outline of their conduct, adapted to our own times ani circumstances, and of course no chorus. u You will laugh, and say, ' Why don't you do so?' I have, you see, tried a sketch in Marino Faliero; but manv people 'hink my talent ' essentially urdritmntir? and I am not a' a'l clear that thev are not right. If Marino Faliero don 1 ! fall — in the perusal — I shall, perhaps, try a rain, (hut not frr the stage ;) and as I think that lave is not the principal passion tor tragedv, (and yet most of nnrs turn upon it,) you will not find me a popular writer. i nli u is \am,jurim&( i criminal, and hapless, it ought not to make a tragic subject. When it is melting and maudlin, it dor*, but r ought not to do ; it is then for the gallery and second-price boxes. a If you want to have a notion of what I am trying, take up a traisl-it'on of anv .if the Greek tragedians. If I said the original, it would be an impud- nt presumption ofraine : bui the translations are so inferior to the origi- nals that I think I may risk it. Then judge of the ( sim- I' i itj "f plot,* See. and dn not judge me hy your old mad dramatists, which is like drinking usquebaugh and then proving a fountain. Yet, after all, I suppose that you do not mean that spirits is a nobler element than a clear ' Set Don Juan, t'uito XI. Sunt a 59. spring bubbling in the sun ? and this I take to be the dit ference between the Greeks and those turbid mounte- banks — always excepting Ben Jonson, who was a scho- lar and a classic. Or, take up a translation of Alfierj, and try the interest, &c. of these my new attempts in the old line, by him in English ; and then tell me fairly your opinion. But do n't measure me hy your ows ola or new tailors' yards. No'liing so easy as intricate con- fusion of plot and rant. Mrs. Cenilivre, in comedy, has ten times the hustle of Conejeve ; but are they to be com pared ? and yet she drove Congreve from the theatre u LETTER CCCCLXXIL TO MR. MURRAY. "Ravenna, January 19, 1821. " Yours of the 29 h ultimo hath arrived. I must really and seriously request that you will beg of Messrs. Harris or Elliston to let the Doge alone: it is not an acting play; it will not serve their purpose ; it will destroy yours, (the sale ;) and it will distress me. It is not courteous, it is hardly even gentlemanly, to persist in this appropria- tion of a man's writings to their mountebanks. " I have already sent you hy last post a short protest to the public, (against this proceeding ;) in case that Oiry persist, which I trust that they will not, you must then publish it in the newspapers. L shall not let them off with that only, if they go on ; but make a longer appeal on that subject, and state what I think the injustice of their mode of behaviour. It is hard that I should have all the buffoons in Britain to deal with — pirates who will publish, and players who will act — when there are thou- sands of worthy men who can neither get bookseller nor manager for love nor money. " You never answered me a word about Galignani. If you mean to use the two documents, do ; if not, burn them. I do not choose to leave them in any one's pos- session; suppose some one found ihem without the let- ters, what would they think/ why, that /had been doing ■ he opposite of what I have done, to wit, referred the whole thing to you — an act of civility, at least, which required saying, * I have received your letter.' I thought that you might have some hold upon those publications bv this means ; to mc it can be no interest one way or the other. " The third canto of Dun Juan is 'dull,' but you must really put up with it : if the hrst two ami the two follow- ing are tolerable, what do you expect ? particularly as I neither dispute with you on it as a matter of criticism or as a matter of business. " Besides, what am 1 to understand ? you, and Dou- glas Kinnaird, and others, write to me, that the tirst two published cantos are among the best that I ever wrote. and are reckoned so ; Augusta writes that they are thought 'cxecrafUe' (hitter word that lor an author— eh, Murray?) as a composition even, and that she had heard so much against them that she would never read them\ and never has. Be that as it may, I can't alter ; that is not mv forte. If you publish the three new ones without ostentation, thev mav perhaps succeed. u Prav publish the Dante and the Puln, (the Pnrpftecy of Dante, I mean.) I look upon the Pulci as my grand performance. The remainder of the ' Hints,' where be they? Now, bring them all out about the same time, otherwise ' the variety" 1 you wot of will be less obvious. •I am in bad humour: — some obstructions in business with those plaguy trustees, who object to an advantageous loan which I was to furnish to a nobleman on mortgage because his properly is in Ireland, \iave shown me how a man is treated in his absence. Oh, if I do come back, will make some of those who little dream of it spin, — or they or I shall go down." * * * * ****** '70 LKTTERS, 1821. LETTER CCCCLXXIII. TO MR. MnBAY. "January 20, 1821. M did not think to have troubled you with the plague anil postage of a double tetter this time, bul I have just read in an ftaiian paper, 'That Lf.nl Byron has a tragedy com- ing out,' &c. &c. &c. ami thai the Courier and Morning icle,&C. &C. are pulling one another to pieces about hini, &c. "Now I do reiterate am! desire, that even,- dung ma) be done to prevent it from coming out on too/ theatre, for which it never was designed] and on which (in the present state of the stage of London) it could never succeed. I have seal you my appeal by last post, which you wrutf jn*6- aeofneed; and I require yon even in your own name (if my honour is dear to you) to declare that such re- presentau" n would be contrary to my wish and t<> my judg- ment. If you do not wish i" drive me mad altogether, you will hit upon some waj to prevent this. tL Yours, &c. K P.S. I cannot conceive how Harris or Elliston should be so insane as to think of acting Marino Fahero; they might as well act the Prometheus of^Eschylus. I speak of course humbly, and with the greatest sense of the dis- tance of time and merit between the two performances; but merely to show the absurdity of the attempt. "The Italian paper speaks of a 'party against it:' to be sure there would he a party. Can you imagine, that after having never Battered man, nor beast, nor opinion, nor po- litics, ihere would nofbe a party against a man, who is also a popular writer — at least a successful? V^ by, all parlies would be a party against." LETTER CCCCLXXIV. TO MH. Ml'RRAV. "Ravenna, January 20, 1821 ■If Harris or Elliston persist, after the remonstrance which I desired you and Mr. Kinuaird to make on my be- half, and which I hope will be sufficient — but if I say, they oo persist^ men I pray von to present mnersenthe enclosed letter to the Lord Chamberlain : I have said in person, be- cause otherwise I shall have neither answer nor know- ledge that it has reached its address, owing to the'inso- Bolence of office. 1 u I wish you would speak to Lord Holland, and to all my friends and yours, to interest themselves in preventing this cursed attempt at representation. "God help me! at this distance, I am treated like a corpse or a fool by the few people that I thought 1 could rely upon; and I uus a fool to think any better of them than of the rest of mankind. write. "Tours, &c. "P. S. I have nothing more at heart (that is, in litera- ture) than to prevent this drama from going upon the stage: in short, rather than permit it, it must be sup- prosed aUogi tker } and only./'""'.'/ copies ttrudk n/rprirattly for presents to my friends. What eursed fools those speen- lating buffoons must be not to sec that it is unfit for their fair — or their booth ' ' mean to present an address at Brandenbnrgh-hoiiM-, ' in armour,' and with all possible variety and splendour of brazen apparel ? " The Ureiicr*, it »eem«, »re preparing lo p«M An ukbtM, •ml prMRlt n ihcmaHveaitllin brM^— A •■ptrAuOUl pOgtftnt—- fur, liy tlir Lord Harrv, They 'II find where (hey "n going much more than ihry carry. There's an Ode for you, is it not ? — wor'.hy " Of • • ' *, the grand mrinqmiricnt p«rt, A man of v.mi marU, InoOfh few people know ll j Tlir |. ' '-xal Motrt) 1 owr, in great pirt, la mj panicm fur \>**irj. : Mestri and Pusina are the ' trajects, or common fer- to v'enice ; but il was from Pusina that you and t embarked, though 'the wicked necessity of rhyming has made me press Mestri into the voyage. "> ., you have had a book dedicated to you? lam England only, as far as regards my* !f. uAere I had every tund of disappointment — lost an important law- suit — and the trustees ofLady Byron refusing to allow of an advantageous loan to be made from my property to Lord Blessington, &c. be by way of closing the four sea- sons. These, and a hundred other such things, made a year of bitter business lor me in England. Luckily, things were a little pleasanter lor me here,chic I should have taken the liberty of Hannibal's ring. Trav thank Gilford for all his goodnesses. The win- ter i< as cold here as Parry's polarities. I mustnow take a canter in the forest ; my horses are waiting, u Yours ever and truly. LETTER CCCCLXXVIL TO MR. MURRAY. K Ravenna, February 2, 1821- " Your letter of excuses has arrived. I receive the let* Lor, but do not admit the excuses, except in courtesy as LETTERS, 1821. 171 when a man treads on your toes and begs your pardon the pard.m is granted, but the joint aches, especially if there be a c .rn upon it. However, I shall scold you presently. " In the last speech of the Doge, there occurs (I think from memory) the phrase — * And Thou who niakeal »»d unmakesl suns :' change this to — ' And Thun who linillesl and who qnf nchest suns ;' that is to sav, if die verse runs equally well, and Mr. Gif- f irJ thinks the evprcssion improved. Pray have the bounty to attend to this. You are grown quite a minister of state. Mm 1 if gome of these days you are not thrown out. * * wdl not be always a Tory, though Johnson says die first Whig was the Devil. "You have learned one secret from Mr. Galignani's hat tardily acknowledged) correspondence: this is, that an English author may dispose of his exclusive copyright in France, — a fact of some consequence (in time gfpeaa) in the ca^e of a popular writer. Now 1 will teli vou what you shall do, and take no advantage < -f you, thi iugh rail were scurvy enough never to acknowledge my letter for three m uiths. Oder Galignani the refusal of the copy- right in France ; if he refuses, appoint any bookseller in Franc- you please, and I will sign any assignment you pleas.-, and it shall never cost you a sou on my account. 'Recoiled that I will have nothing to do with it, except as far as it may secure the copyright to yourself. I will have no bargain but with the English bouksellers, and I desire no interest out of that country. " Now, that 's fair and open, and a little handsomer than your dodging silence, to see what would come of it. You are an excellent fellow, mio caro Moray, but there is still a little leaven of Fleet-street about you now and then — a crum of the old loaf. You have no right to act suspiciously with me, for I have given you no reason. I shall always be frank with you ; as, for instance, whenever you talk with the votaries of Apollo arithmetically, it should be in guineas, not pounds— to poets, as weli as physicians, and bidders at auctions. " I shall say no more at this present, save that I am " Yours, &c. "P. S. If you venture, as you sav, to Ravenna diisyear, I will exercise die rites of hospitality while you live, and bury you handsomely, (though no! in holy ground,) if you get ' -li't or slashed in a creat:h or splore.,' which are rather frequent here of late among the na'ive parlies. But per- haps your visit mav be anticipated; I may probably come to your conntrv ; in which case write to her ladyship the duplicate of the episde the king of France wrote to Prince John " LETTER CCCCLXXVIII. TO MA. MURRAY. " Ravenna, Feb. 16,1821. « In the month of March will arrive from Barcelona Sigmir Curioni, engaged fir the Opera. He is an ac- quaintance of mine, and a gentlemanly young man, high in his profession. I must request your personal kindness patronage in his favour. Pray introduce him to such of ih- theatrical people, editors of papers, and others, as may be useful toliim in bis profession, publicly and pn- rately. " The fifdi is so far from being the last of Don Juan, that it is hardly the beginning. 1 meant to take linn the tour of Europe, with a proper mixture of siege, battle, and adventure, and to make him finish as Anacharsis Cloots, in the French Revolution. To how many cantos this may extend, I know not, nor whether (even if 1 live) I shall complete it ; but lliis was my notion. I meant to have made him a cavalier servente in Italy, and a cause for a divorce in England, and a sentimental ' Werther-faccd man' in Grermanv, so as to show the different ridicules of| the society in each of those countries, and to have display- ed him gradually gdti and blase as he grew older, as is natural. But I had not quite fixed whether to make him end in hell, or in an unhappy marriage, not knowingwhich would be the severest: the Spanish tradition says hell ; but it is probably only an allegory of the other state. You are now in possession of my notions on the subject. " You say the Doge will not be popular : did I ever write for popularity ? I defy you to show a work of mine (except a tale or two) of a popular style or complexion. It appears to me diat there is room for a different style of the drama ; neither a servile following of the old drama, which is a grossly erroneous one, nor yet too French, like those who succeeded the older writers. It appears to me that good English, and a severer approach to the rules, might combine something not dishonourable to our litera- ture. I have also attempted to make a play without love ; and there are neither rings, nor mistakes, nor starts, nor outrageous ranting villains, nor melodrame in it. All this will prevent its popularity, but does not persuade me that it is therefore faulty. Whatever faults it has will arise from deficiency in the conduct, rather than m the concep- tion, which is simple and severe. " So you epigrammalize upon my epigram ? I will pay you for that, mind if I do n't, some day. I never let any one off in die long run, [who first begins.) Remember ***■ and see if I do n't do you as good a turn. You un- natural publisher ! what ! quiz your own authors ? you are a paper cannibal ! ■ In the letter on Bowles, (which I sent by Tuesday's post,) af er the words 'attempts had been made' (alluding to the republication of 'English Bards',) add the words, in Ireland ;' for I believe that English pirates did not betrin their attempts till after I had left England the second lime. Prav attend to this. Let me know what you and our svmxl think on Bowles. " I did not think the second seal so bad : surely it is far better than the Saracen's head with which you hav« sealed your last Utter; the larger, in profile, was surely much better than that. "So Foscolo says he will get you a seal cut belt, r in Italy ? he means a throat— dial is die only tiling they do dexterously. The Arts — all but Canova's, and Mor- ghen's, and Ovid's (I do n't mean poetry) — are as low as need be: look at the seal which I gave to William Bankes, and own it. How came George Bankes to quote 'English Bards' in the House of'Commons? All the world keep Hinging that poem in my face. " Bclzoni is a grand traveller, and his English is very prettily broken. - \ . for news, the Barbarians are marching on Naples, and if they lose a single battle, all Italy will be up. It will be like the Spanish row. if they have any bottom. " ' Letters opened V — to be sure they are, and that 's the reason why I always put in my opinion of the German Austrian scoundrels. There is not an Italian who loathes them more than I do ; and whatever I could do to scour Italv and the earth of Iheir infamous oppression would be done con amore. •Yours, &c." LETTER CCCCLXXIX. TO MR. MURRAY. "Ravenna, Feb. 21, 1881.* " In the forty-fourth page, volume first, of Turner's Tra- vels, (which you lately sent me,) it is stated diat 'Lord Byn hi, when he expressed such confidence of ils practi- cability, seems to have forgotten that Leander swam both ways, 'with and asainst the tide ; whereas he (Lord Byron) only performed the easiest part of die task by swimming with it from Europe to Asia.' I certainly could not have ' Sec —Don Juan, Cuu 11, Suuua 106, &c 172 LETTERS, 1821. (brggtten, what is known to every schoolboy, thai Leander crossed in ihe night, and returned towards the morning. My objeci was, to ascertain that the Hellespont could be craw d ut nil by swimming and in this Mr. Ekenhead and myself DOtfa succeeded, the one in an hour and ten tninuteS] and the oilier ui an hour and five minutes. The tig the bottom. TViwdnes not argue any greater violence of current than on the European shore. With regard to tiie modest insinuation that we chose the European side as ' easier,' I appeal to Mr. Hobbouse and Captain Bathurst if it be true or no, (poor Ekenhead being since dead.) Had w«- been aware of any such difference of current as is asserted, we would at least have proved it, and were not likely to have given it up in the twenty-five minutes of Mr. Turner's own experiment. The secret of all this is, that Mr. Turner failed, and that we succeeded; and he is consequently disappointed, and seems not unwilling io overshadow whatever little merit there might be in our success. Why did he not try die European side ? If he had succeeded there, after failing on the Asiatic, his plea would have been more graceful and gracious. Mr. Tur LETTERS, 1921. 173 ncr may find what fault he pleases with my poetry, or my politics ; but I recommend him to leave aquatic reflec- tions till he is able to swim 'five-and-rwenty minutes' without being ' exhausted though I believe be is the first modern Tory who ever swam* against the stream' fur half lire nme." LETTER CCCCLXXX. TO MR. MOORP "Ravenna, Feb. 22, IS2I a As I wish the soul of the la:e Auioine Galijnani to rest iii peace, {you will have read his death published bv lumsetf] m Ins own newspaper,) you are requested parti- cularly to inform bis children and heirs, that of their 1 Literary Gazette, 1 to which I subscribed more than two months agOj I have only received one nvmner, notwith- standing 1 have written to them repeal edly. Ifthev have no regard for ine, a subscriber, diey ought to have some for thei deceased parent, who is undoubtedly no belter oh*" in (lis present residence for this total want of atten- tion. If not, let me have my francs. They were paid bv Missiaglia, the W^enetian bookseller. You may also hint to them that when a gentleman writes a letier, it is usual to send an answer. If not, I shall malce them 'a speech,' which will comprise an eulogy on the deceased. " We are here full of war, ami within two days of the 5-.1t of it, expecting intelligence momently. We shall now see if our Italian' friends are good for anv thing but 'shooting round a corner,' like the Irishman's gun. Excuse nast£j — 1 write with my spurs putting on. My horses are at the door, and an Italian Count waiting to accom- pany me in my ride. " Yours, &c. ■'P. 8. Pray, among my letters, did you get one del ail- ing the death of the commandant here ? He was killed near my door, and died in my house. "BOWLES AND CAMPBELL. * To the air of ' How nozn, Madame Flirt, in the Beg- gar's Opera. " Bo 'let. " Why, how now, utuc; Tom, tl yuu (Iiuh mual ramble, 1 will (iul'li«l> nuine Remark* tin Mr. Campbell. " CainjibtU. " Hfliy, how now, B.liy Bowlcc, LETTER CCCCLXXXI. TO MR. MURRAY. "March 2, 1821. " This was the beginning of a letter which 1 me such, and I claim my riL'ht a-; an airhor to prevent what I have written from being turned into asiage-play. I have loo much respect for the public to permit this of my own free will. Had I sought their favour, i' would have been by a pantomime. " I ha\e said thai I write onlv for the reader. Beyond tins I < annoi consent to any publication, or \o the abuse of any publication of mine to the purposes of hisirionism. The applauses of an audience would give me no pleasure ; their disapproha ion might, however, give me pain. The wager is therefore not equal. You mav, perhaps, sav, 'How can this be? if their disapprobaiion gives pain, their praise might afford pleasure ?' Bv no means: the kick of an a^s or the sting of a wasp may be painful to those who would find nothing agreeable in the braying of the one or the buzzing of the other. " This may not seem a courteous comparison, but I have no other ready ; and it occurs naturally. LETTER CCCCLXXXIU TO MR. MURRAY. " Ravenna, Marzo, 1821. " DEAR MORAY, "In my packet of the 12th instant, in the last sheet, (not the half* sheet,) last page, omit the sentence which (defining, or attempting to define, what and who are gen- tlemen) begins 'I should say at least in life that most military men have it, and few naval; that several men of rank have it, and few lawyers,' &c. &c. I say, omit the whole of that sentence, because, like the' cosmogony, or creation of the world,' in the 'Vicar of Wakefield,' it is not much to the purpose. "In the sentence above, too, almost at the top of the same page, after the words ' that there ever was, or can >e, an aristcx-racy of poets,' add and insert these words— I do not mean that they should write in the style of the :on;_' by a person of quality, or park euphuism ; but there is a nubility of thought and expression to be found no less inShakspeare, Pope, and Bums, than in Dante, Alfien, &c. &c. and so on. Or, if you please, perhaps you had better omit the whole of the latter digression on the vul- var pue's, and insert only as far as the end of the sen* 'ence on Pope's Homer, where I prefer it to Cowper's and .juoie Dr. Clarke in favour of its accuracy. " Upon all these points, take an opinion ; take the sense (or nonsense) of your learned visitants, and act thereby. I am very tra< 'able — in phose. « Whether 1 have made out the case for Pope, \ know not ; but I am very sure that I have been zealous in the ittempt. If it comes to the proofs, we shall beat the >'a kgnards. I will show more imagery in twenty lines >( Pope than in anv equal length of quotation in English >oesy, and thai in places where they least expect it. For instance, in his lines on Sporus, — now, do just read them over — the subject is of no con-equence (whether it be satire or epic) — we are talking of pnetry and imagery from nature ami art. Now mark the images separately and arithmetically : — u 1 . The thing of silk, 2. Cur*/ of ortance to them, nor to him either, what opinion he entertains — Ins day is over, or, at least should be. " You see how sober I am become." LETTER CCCCLXXXV. TO MR. MURRAY. "Ravenna, April 21,1821. " I enclose you another letter on Bowles. But I pre- mise that it is not like the former, and that I am not at all sure bow much, if any, of it should be published. Upon this point you can consull with Mr. Gifford, and think tutu before you publish it at all. "Yours tiulv, "B. "P. S. You may make my subscription for Mr. Scott's widow, &c. thirty instead of the proposed trn pounds : but do not put down mtj mint, ; put down N. N. only. The reason is, that, as I have mentioned him in the enclosed pamphlet, it would look indelicate. I would give more, butmydisai in:m. u1s last year about Rochdale and the transfer from the funds render me more aeon for die present." LETTER CCCCLXXXVI. TO MR. SHELLEY - . " Ravenna, April 26, 1821 . " The child continues doing well, and the accounts are regular and favourable. It is gratifying to me UiUv LETTERS, 1821. 175 ymi and Mrs. Shelley do not disapprove of the step which I have taken, which is merely temporary. " [ am very *nrrv in hear what vou say of Keafs— is il actually true ? I did not think criticism had been so killing. Though I differ from you essentially in your estimate of his performances, I so much abhor all unne- cessary pain, that I would rather he had been seated on the highest peak of Parnassus than have perished in such a manner. Poor fellow! though with such inordinate self-love he would probably have not been very happv. I read the review of ' Endymion 1 in the Q,narierly. Ii was severe, — but surely not so severe as my reviews in that and oth'-r jo irnals upon others. " I recollect the effect on me of the Edinburgh on my first poem ; it was rage, and resistance, and redress — but not desp tn lency nor despair. I grant that those are not amiable feelings; hit, in this world of bustle and broil, and especially in the career of writing, a man should calculate upon his powers of resistance before he goes into the arena. ' F.< |>ect not life from pit In DOT danger free, Nor deem the doom of mmi reversed for ihee.' "Vou know my opinion of that second-hand school of poetry. Vou also know my high opinion of your own poetry, — because it is of no school. I read Cenci — but, that I think the subject essentially un dramatic, I am not an admirer of our old dramatists, as tftodels. I deny that the English have hitherto had a drama at all. Your Cenci, however, was a worlc of power an. I poetry. As to my drama, pray revenge yourself upon it, by being as free as I have been with yours. '• I have not vet got your Prometheus, which T long to see. I have heard nothing of mine, and do not know that it is yet published. I have published a pamphlet on the Pope controversy, which you will not like. Had I known that Keats was dead — or that he was alive and so sensitive — I should have omitted some remarks upon his poetry, to which I was provoked by his attnrk upon Pope, and my disapprobation of his own style of writing. L - V m want me to undertake a great Poem — I have nol the inclination nor the power. As I grow older, the indif- — not to life, for we love it by instinct — but t<> tin- stimuli oflife, increases. Besides, this late failureof the Italians has latterly disappointed mc for many reasons, — some public, some personal. My respects to Mrs. S. " Yours ever. "P. S. Could not you and I contrive to meet this summer ? Could not you take a run here alone . ? " LETTER CCCCLXXXVIL TO MR. MURRAY. " Ravenna. April 26, 1821 . " T sent vou by last posfu a large packet, which will not do for publication. (I suspect,) being, as the apprentices Bay, ' damned low. 1 I put off also for a week or two the Italian scrawl which will form a note to it. The reason is, that letters being opened, I wish to 'bide "Well, have vou published the Tragedy? and does the Letter take? M Is it true what Shelley writes me, that poor John K tats died at Rome of the (Quarterly Review? T am ■ ry for it, tfa iugh I think he took the wrong hue as a poet, and was spoiled hv Cocknevfving, and suburbing. an! versifying Tooke's Pantheon and Lempriere's Dic- tionary. I know, by experience, that a savage review is hemlock to a sucking author ; and the one on me (which produced the English Bards, &c.) knocked me down — but I got up again. Instead of bursting a blood-vessel, 1 drank three bottles of claret, and begun an answer, finding that there was nothing in the article for which I could lawfully knock Jeffrey on the head, in an honourable way. However, I would not be the person wno wrote "he homicidal article for all the honour and glory in the world, though I by no means approve of that school of scribbling which it treats upon. " You see the Italians have made a sad business of it, — all owing to treachery and disunion among themselves. Ti has given me great vexation. The execrations heaped upon the Neapolitans by the nther Italians are quite in unison with those of the rest of Europe. " Yours, &c. "P. S. Your latest packet of books is on its wav here, but not arrived. Kenilworth excellent. Thanks for the pocket-books, of which I have made presents to those ladies who like cuts, and landscapes, and a.\ that. I have got an Italian book or two which I should like to send vou if I had an opportunity. " I am not at present in the very highest health, — spring, probably ; so I have lowered my diet and taken to Epsom salts. " As you say mv prose is good, why do n't you treat with JMoore for the reversion of the Memoirs ? — condi- tionally^ recollect; nol to be published before decease. He has the permission to dispose of them, and I advised 'lira to do so." LETTER CCCCLXXXVUI. TO MR. MOORE. " Ravenna, April 28, 1821. " You cannot have been more disappointed than myself, nor so much deceived. I have been so at some personal risk also, which is not yet done away with. However, no time nor circumstances shall alter my tone nor my feelings of indignation against tyranny triumphant. The present business has been as much a work of treachery as of cowardice. — though both may have done their part. If ever you and I meet again, I will have a talk with you upon the subject. At present, for obvious reasons, I can write but little, as all letters are opened. In mine they shall always find my sentiments, hut nothing that can lead to the oppression of others. " You will plea.se to recollect that the Neapolitans are Dowhere now more execrated than in Italy, and not blame a whole people for the vices of a province. That would be like condemning Great Britain because they plundei wr ks in Cornwall. " And now let us be literary ; — a sad falling off, but it is always a consolation. If ' Othello's occupation be gone, 1 let us take to the next best ; and, if we cannot contribute to make mankind more free and wise, we may amuse ourselves and those who like it. What are you writing? I have been scribbling at intervals, and Murray will bo publishing about now. "Lady Noel has, as you say, been dangerously ill ; but it may console you to learn that she is dangerously well again. "I have written a sheet or two more of Memoranda for you ; and I kept a little Journal for about a month or two, till I had filled the paper-hook. I then left it off, as things grew busy, and, afterward, too gloomy to set down without a painful feeling. This I should be glad to send you, if I had an opportunity ; but a volume, however small, do n't go well by such posts as exist in this Inquisi- tion of a country. u I have no news. As a very pretty woman said to me a few nights ago, with the tears in her eyes, as she sat at the harpsichord, 'Alas! the Italians must now return *o making operas.' I fear that and maccaroni are their forte, and 'motley their only wear.' However, there are some high spirits among them still. Priy write. "And believe me, &c." 175 LETTERS, 1821. LETTER CCCCLXXX1X. TO MR. MOORE. "Ravenna, May 3, 1821. ■Though I wrote to you on the 28ih ultimo^! nuisl acknowledge yours of thtf day, with the linos.* The) are sublime, a* well as beautiful, and in your ver) bea mood and manner. They are also but too irue, How- ever.donol confound the scoundrels a) Ihe heel oi the boot wi li their be ters at rhe top pf it. I assure you (ha; i. ■ some lof ier spirits. * Nothing however, can be bctlcr "lino your poem, m- mor*' deserved by ihe Lazzaroiu. The) are now abhor- red and disclaimed nowhere more than here. We will talk -.vcr these Uiings (if we meet) some day, and I will r< nut my own adventures, some of which have been a little hazardous, perhaps. "So yf regular Serven- tism. In England, the only homage which ihey pay to rirtue is hypocrisy. 1 speak of course, of the tone ol hi-h iif,._the middle ranks may be very vil I B. "I have not gut any copy (nor ha e yel had) of the letter on Bowles ; ■ f course I should I e delighted to send it i«) you. How is Mrs. 11.7 well again, I hope. Let mr know when you set out. I regret thai I cannot men you in the Bernese Alps this summer, as I once hoped aim inti nded. With mj best respects to I ia.tam, " 1 am ever, &r. "P.P. I gavetoo musicianiT a letter for you sometime ago— h*a he presented himself? Perhaps you could info dut e him to the [ngraras and other dilettanti. He is simple and unassuming — two strange ihines in his pr* fu- sion— and lie fiddles like Orpheus himself oi Am 't is a pity thai be can 1 ! make Venic dance awa) from the brutal tyrant who tramples upon it." " Ay, ii, wi, to the 'i.j.t wiUj Uicm, ihuu a* they Artt," &c. ic. LETTER CCCOXC1I. TO MR. MURRAY. ■ May 14, 1821. "A Milan paper stairs lhat the play has been repre- sented and universally condemned. As rcmonatnuca LETTERS, 1621. 177 has been vain, complaint would be useless. I presume) however, for your own sake, (if not for mine,) that you and my other friends will have at least published my dif- ferent protests against its being brought upon the stage at ail ; and have shown that Elliston (in spite of tbe writer) forced it upon the theatre. It would be nonsense to say ihat this lias not vexed me a good deal, but I am not i and I shall not take the usual resource of bla- ming the public, (which was in the right,) or my friends for do! preventing — what they could not help, nor I neither — representation by a speculating manager. It is ihat vou did not show them its unfitness for the before tbe play was published, and exact a promise from the managers not to act it. In case of their refusal, we would not have published it at all. But this is too late. " Yours. ■ P. S. I enclose Mr. Bowles's letters ; thank him in mv name for their candour and kindness. — Also a letter for Hodgson, which pray forward. The Milan paper states that I ' brougfU forward the play!!!' This is ple&santer still. But don't let yourself be worried about it; and if (as is likely) the folly of Elliston checks the sale, I am ready to make any deduction, or the entire cancel of your agreement. "You will of course not publish my defenceof Gilch.ist, as after Bowles's good humour upon the subject, it would be too savage. u Let me hear from you the particulars ; for, as yet, I have only the simple fact. " If you knew what I have had to go through here, on account of the failure of these rascally Neapolitans, you would be amused: but it is now apparently over. They ! disposed to throw the whole project and plans of these parts upon me chiefly." by the trustees — my life threafened last month (they put about a paper here to excite an attempt at mv assassina- tion, on account of politics, and a notion which the priests disseminated that I was in a league against the Germans) and, finally, my mother-in-law recovered last fortnight, and mv play was damned last week !* These are like 'the eight-and-twenly misfortunes of Harlequin.' But they must be borne. If I give in, it shall be after keeping up a spirit at least. I should not have cared so much about it, if our southern neighbours had not bungled us all out of freedom for these five hundred years to come. "Did you know John Keats? They say that he was killed bva review of him in the Quarterly — if he be dead, hich I really don't know.f I don't understand that yielding sensitiveness. What I feel (as at this present) is an immense rage for eight-and-fbrty hours, and then, as usual — unless this time it should last longer. I must get on horseback to quiet me. "Yours, &c " Francis I. wrote, after the battle of Pavia, ' All is lost except our honour.' A hissed author may reverse it — ]!fbihing is lost, except our honour. 1 But the horses are waiting, and the paper full. I wrote last week to you." LETTER CCCCXCHI. TO MR. KJ00RE. "May 14,1821. * If anv part nf the letter to Bowles has (unintention- ally a-< far as 1 remember the contents) vexed you, you are fully avenged; for I see by an Italian paper that, not- withstanding ail my remonstrances through all my friends, (and yourself among the rest,) the managers persisted in allemptii I., and that it has been ' unanimously hissed! P This is the consolatory phra-e of the Milan pap-r, [which detests me cordially, and abuses me, on al! occasions, as a Liberal,) with die addition, that I 'brought . out' of my own good-wilL ■ All this is vexatious enough, ami seems a sort of dra- matic Calvinism — predestined damnation, without a sin- ner's own fault I took all the pains poor mortal could to prevent this inevitable catastrophe — partly by appeals of all kinds up to the Lord Chamberlain, and partly to the fellows themselves. But, as remonstrance was vain, oom- - useless. I do not understand it — for Murray's letter of the '24:h, and all his preceding ones, gave me the 1 (here would be no re pre sen 'a' ion. - I know nothing bin lb) (act, which I presume to is Pans, and the 30: h. They must have been in a hell of a hurry fir this damnation, since I tat it was published; and, without its being first published, the histrions could not have got hold Vny 006 might have seen, at a glance, that it was utterly impracticable for the stage ; and this little accident will by no means enhance its merit in the closet. * Well, patience is a virtue, and, I suppose, practice will make u" perfect. Since last year (spring, that is) I have lust a lawsuit, of great importance, on Rochdale collieries — have occasioned a divorce — have had my poesy dis- paraged by Murrav and the critics — mv fortune refused to be placed on an advantageous settlement (in Ireland) 23 LETTER CCCCXCIV. TO MR. MPRRAV. *Ravenna,May 19, 1821 "By the papers of Thursdav, and two letters of Mr. Kinnaird, I perceive that the Italian Gazette had lied most Italicully* and that the drama had not been hissed, and that my friends had interfered to prevent ihe representa- tion. So it seems thev continue to act it, in spite of us all : for this we must ' trouble them at 'size.' Let it by all means be brought to a plea: I am determined to try the right, and will meet the expenses. The reason of the Lombard lie was that the Austrian? — who keep up an Inquisition throughout Italy, and a list of names of all who think or speak of anv thing but in favour of their despo- tism — have for five years past abused me in every form in the Gazette of Milan, &c. I wrote to you a week ago on the subject. "Now, I should be glad to know what compensation Mr. Elliston would make me, not only for dragging my writings on the s'agc in./Jcc days, but for being the cause (hat I was kept fi.r Jour days (from Sunday to Thursday morning, the nnlv post days) in the belief that the tragedy had been acted and 'unanimously hissed ;' and litis with the addition that /'had brought it upon the s' age,' and consequently that none of my friends had attended to my request to the contrary. Suppose that I had burst a blood- vessel, like John Keats, or blown my brains out in a fit of raop, — neither of which would have been unlikely a few years ago. At present I am, luckily, calmer than I used to be, and yet I would not pass those four days over again fur — I know not what. K I wrote to you to keep up your spirits, for reproach u useless always, and irrigating — but my feelings were very much hurt, to be dragged like a gladiator to the fa'e of a gla- diator by thafreftaWus,' Mr. Elliston. As to his defence and offers of compensation, what is all this to the pur- pose ? It is like Louis the XIV. who insisted upon buy- ing a* any price Algernon Sydney's horse, and, oo his refusal, on taking it by force, Sydney shot his horse. I could not shoot my tragedy, but I would have flung it into the fire rather than have had it represented. " I have now written nearly three acts of another, (in- tending to complete it in five,) and am more anxious than ever to be preserved from such a breach of all literary courtesy and gentlemanly consideration. V • 3 t e Letter 499. T Sec Don Jutn, Cioto XI. Suqw GO. l73 LETTERS, 1821. " If we succeed, well ; if not, previous to any future publi- cation we will request a promi**. not in be acted, which I would even pay for, (as money is iheir object,) or I will n<»t publish — which) however, you will probably Dot much regret. •' The Chancellor has behaved nobly. You have also ■ .1 vourself in the most satisfactory manner; and 1 have no fault to find with any b idybul the stageplayers and their proprietor. I was always bo civil to Elliston i illy that he ought to have been the la I to atti mpl to injure me. "There is a most raiding thunder-storm pelting away at this present writing; bo thai I write neiineTby day, nor by candle, nor torchlight, but by lightning light : th< are as brilliant as the most gaseous glow of the gas-light c panj . My chimney board has jusl been thrown dowi> bya first of wind : I thought H was the 'Bold Thunder' and ' Brisk Lightning 3 in person. — T/iree of us would be loo many. Tin re it goes — -JUuh again ! hut ■ I tax Dot you, j«deineau, with itnkfndnm ; I never EftVr jsfimk$ t HOT I Wd Upon viu .' n- I have done by and upon Mr. Elliston. "Why do you not write . ? You should at least send me a Une of particulars : 1 know nothing yel but by Galig< nani and the H mourable Douglas. '•"Well, and how dors our P >pe controversy go nn? and the pamphlet? It is imnos ible to write any news: the Austrian scoundrels rummage all letters, " P. s. I could have sent you :i go 1 1 deal of gossip and some real information, were ii not that all letters pass through the Barbarians 1 inspection, and I have no wish to inform th m of any thing but my utter abhorrence ofthem and theirs. They have only conquered by treachery, however." " Von will oblige me, then, by causing Mr. Gazette of France to i ontradicl himself which, I suppose) he is used to. I never answer a foreign criticism; but this is tmere matter ol fad i and not of opinions. I presume that you have English and French interest enough to do this (or me — though, to be sure, as it is nothing but the truth the insertion may be more difficult. "Asl have written to you often lately al won't bore you farther now, than by begging you to com- ply with my request; and I presume the * esprit du corps,' (is it 'du' <>r *de V for this is more than I know) will suffi- ciently urge you, as one of 'ours,' to set this atl'air in its real aspect. Believe me always yours ever and most affectionately, w Byron.' 1 LETTER CCCCXCV. TO THE COTJKTSSS OUICCIOM. " Yon will see here confirmation of what I told you the other day! lam sacrificed in every way, without know- ing the »'/)// or the wherefore. The tragedy m question is not (nor ever was) written tor, or adapted to, the stage; nevertheless, the plan is not romantic; it is rather regular than otherwise ; — in point of unity of time, indeed, per- fectly regular, and failing but slightly in unity of place. You well know whether it was ever my intention to have it acted, since it was written at your side, and at a period assuredly rather more tragical to me as a man than as an author; for you were in affliction and peril, [n the mean time, I learn frdm your Gazette that a cabal and party has been fumed, while 1 myself have never taken the slightest step m the business. It is said thai the author read it aloud!!! — here, probably, al Ravenna? — and to Whom? perhaps to Fletcher !!!— thai iliiistnoiis literary character, &c. fee." LETTER CCCCXCVH. TO MR. MOnPNER. LETTER CCCCXCVI. TO MR. MOORE. ivenna,May CO. 1831. ■Since T wrote to you last week I have received Eng- lish letters and papers, by which I perceive that whaf 1 took for an Italian truth is, after all, a French lie of the Gazette de France. It contains two ulira-filsehoods in as many lines. Iii me first place, i.ord p. did not brino forward his play, hut opposed the same ; and, secondly, it was not condemned, but is continued to be acted, in de- spite of publisher, author, Lord Chancellor, and {for aught I know to the contrary) of audi. -nee. up to the first of May, at least— the latest date of my letters. 1821. "T am very mucfi pleased with wh it yofj mi of Swifc Eerland, and will ponder upon it. I would rather she married there than here for that matter. For fortune, J shall make if all that I can spare, (if I live and she ,, c ,, r . rect m her conduct,) and if I die before she is settled. I have left her by will \\\-- ll sand pounds which is pro* i ion out of England for a natural child. ( shall increase it all I can, if circumstances permit me ; hut, of course {like a ll other human things) this is very urn ertain. " You will oblige me very much by Interfering to bave the facts of Jhe play-acting stated, as these Bcoundrets appear to I | item of abuse against me because I am in their'&t. 1 I care nothing for their eri- tiris/n, but the matter of fact. I have written ./bur acts of another tragedy, so you see they txmh bully me. Vou know. I suppose, that they actually keep a list of all individuals m Italy who dislike them— it m numerous. Their suspicions and actual alarms, about my conduct and presumed intentions in the late row, were truly ludicrOUS—though, DOl to bore vou, [touched upon them lightly. They believed, and still believe here, or an"ect to believe it, that the whole plan ana pro rising was settled by me, and the means furnishe I, &c &c All tins was more fomented by the barbarian agents, who are numerous here, (one of them was stabh terdaj by-the-way,but not dangerously :)— end although, when the ( 'oiiiniaudaiit was shot here before my door in December, I took him into my house, where he had everj assistance till he died on Fletcher's bed; and although not one of them dared to receive him into their houses hut myself, they leaving him to perish in the night in the streets, they put up a paper about three months ago, denouncing me as the Chief of the Liberals, and stirring up persons to assassinate me. But this shall never silence nor bully my opinions. All this came from the German Barbarians." LETTER CCCCXCVUT. TO MR. MURRAY. ■ Ravenna, May 25, 1821. " MR. MORAV, u Since I wrote the enclosed a week ago, and for some ieks before, 1 have not had a line from vou: now. I should be glad to know upon what principle of common >r uncommon feeling, vou feave me without any informs rion but what I derive from garbled gazettes in English an I abusive ones in Italian, (the Germans hating me, as« li-Aeowr,) while all this kick-up has been going on abou me play? You B&abbT fellow!!! Were it not tbr two I 'ters from Douglas Kinnaird, I should have been as ignorant as you are negligent. LETTERS, 1821. 179 "So, I hear Bowles has been abusing Holthouse? if that 's (he case, he has broken the truce, like Morillo's successor, and I will cut him out, as Cochrane did the Esmeralda. "Since 1 wrote the enclosed jacket I have completed (bul do! copied out) four acts of a new tragedy. When I have finished the hfdi I will copy it out. li is on the Bubjeci of 1 Sardanapalus, 1 the las* lung of the Assyrians. The words Queen and Pavilion occur, but u is not an allusion to his Britannic Majesty, as you may tremulously This you will one day see, (if I finish it.) as 1 have made Sardanapalus brave, (though voluptuous, as hi iui\ represents him,} and also as amiable as my poor powers coujd render him: — so that u could neither be truth nor satire on any living monarch. 1 have strictly preserved all the unities hitherto, and mean to continue them in the rain, if possible; but not for the stage. Yours. iu haste and lintred you shabby correspondent ! «N." LETTER CCCCXCIX. TO MR. MURRAY. "Ravenna, May 28, 1821. ■Since my last of the 26th or 25th. I have dashed off my fifth act of the tragedy called 'Sardanapalus.' But now comes the copying over, which may prove heavy «,,rk — lieavy to the writer as to the reader. I have written to you at least six times sans answer, which proves you to be a — bookseller. I pray you to send me a copy of Mr. Wranghamh reformation of'Lang- forties Plutarch.' I have the Greek, which is somewhat •nnall of print, and the Italian, which is too heavy in style, md as false as a Neapolitan patriot proclamation. I pray vou also to send me a Life, published some years ago. ol the Magician Apollomus of Tyana. It is in English, and 1 think edited or written by what Marhn Marprelate calls l a bouncing priest' I shall trouble you no farther villi this sheet than with the postage. " Yours, &c. «N. " P. S. Since t wrote this, I determined to enclose it (as tt half sheet) to Mr. Kmnaird, who will have the goodness to forward it. Besides, it saves sealing-wax." LETTER D. TO MR. MURRAY". "Ravenna, May 30i 1S21 a DEAR MORAV, ■You say you have written often: I have only re- ceived yours of the eleventh, which is very short. By this post, in ./foe packets, I send you fl.e tragedy of Sar- danapalus, which is written in a rough hand: perhaps Mrs. Leigh can help you to decipher it. You will phase to acknowledge it by refum of post. You will remark that the unities are all strictly observed. The scene in the same hall always: the time, a summer'a about nine hours, or less, though it begins b< fore sunset ami ends after sunrise. In the third act. when Sardanapalus calls f >r a mirror to look at himself in his armour, recollect toquote the Latin passage from Juvenal U ion "Mo, (a similar character, who did the same thing:) I will help you to it. The trait is perhaps too (arnular, bul it is historical, (of Otto, at least,) and natural in an effeminate character." 'About Allegra — I will take some decisive step in the course of the year ; at present, she is so happy where he is, that perhaps she had better have her alphatwt im- parted in her convent. " What you say of ihe Dante is the first I have heard f it — all seeming to he merged in the rout about tho tragedy. Continue it! — Alas! what could Dante him- self now prophesy about Italy? 1 am glad you like it, however, but doubt that you will be singular in your opinion. My new tragedy is completed. " The Benzoni is right, — I ought to have mentioned her humour and amiability, but I thought at her snttf beauty would be most agreeable or least likely. How- it, it shall be rectified in a new edition ; and if any of the parties have either looks or qualities which they wish to be noticed, let me have a minute of them. I have no private nor personal dislike to Venice., rather the contrary, but I merely speak of what is the subject of all remarks and all writers upon her present state. Let me hear from you before you start. Believe me, " Ever, &c. P. S. Did you receive two letters of Douglas Kin- naird's in an endorse from me ? Remember me to Men- naldo, Soranzo, and all who care dial I should remember them. The letter alluded to in the enclosed, ' to the Cardinal} was in answer to some queries of the govern- ment, about a poor devil of a Neapolitan, arrested at Sinigaglia on suspicion, who came to beg of me here : being without breeches, and consequently without pockets for halfpence, I relieved and forwarded him to his country and they arrested him at Pesaro on suspicion, and have since interrogated me (civilly and politely, however,) about him. I sent them the poor man's petition, and such information as I bad about him, which, I trust, will get him out again, that is to say, if they give him a fair hearing. "I am content with the article. Pray, did you receive, some posts ago, Moore's lines, which I enclosed to you, written at Paris '?" LETTER DII. TO MH MOORE. LETTER DL TO MR. HOPPNER. "Ravenna, May 31,1821. "1 enclose you another letter, which will only confirm what 1 have said to you. "Ravenna, June 4, 1821. K You have not written lately, as is the usual custom with literary gentlemen to console their friends with their observaiions in cases of magnitude. I do not know whether I sent you. my 'Elegy on the recovery of Lady Noel ;'— " Behold the blessings of a lucky lot — My play is damtlM, and Lady Noel nor. "The papers (and perhaps your letters) will have put you in possession ofMuster EuTstoh's dramatic behaviour. It is to he presumed that the play was Jilted for the stage by Mr. Dihdin, who is the tailor upon such occasions, and will have taken measure with Ins usual accuracy. I hea. that it is slill continued to he performed — a piece of ob- stinacy for which it is some consolation to think that the discourteous hislrio will be out of pocket. "You will he surprised to hear that I have finished another tragedy hi five acts, observing all the unities strictly. It is called 'Sardanapalus,' and was sent by last post to England. It s not fur the staire, any more lhan the other was intended for it, — and I shall take better care tltis time that they do n't get hold on 't. "1 have also sent, two months ago, a farther letter on Bowles, &c. I but lie seems to he so taken up with my 'respect' (as he calls it) towards him in the former case, that I am not sure that it will he published being some- whal too full of 'pastime and prodigality.' I learn from some private letters of Bowles's, that >imi were 'the gen- tleman in asterisks.' Who would have dreamed it ? you LETTERS, 1821. ISO B ee whal mischief that clergyman has done by printing notes without names. How the dense was I to suppose ihat the first four asterisks meant 'Campbell' ami not *Pope,' ami that the blank signature meant Thomas Moore. V«m see what comes oY being familiar with parsons. IIh answers have not yei reached me, but I understand from Hobhouse that he (H.) »» attacked an them. If that be the case, Bowles has brol he truce, (whicli he himself proclaimed, by*the-wayO and I must ban at him again. "Did you receive my letters wilfe the twn or three con- cluding sheets 0/ Memoranda ? "There are no news here to interest much: A Ger- man spy {boasting himself such) was stabbed last week, but not mortally. The moment I heard that he went apout bull; ing and boasting h was easy for me, or any one else, to foretell whal would occur to him, which I did, and i' oame to pass in two days after. He lias got of!; however, for a slight incision. * A row the other night, about a lady of the place. between her various lovers, occasioned a midnight dis- charga of pistols, but nobody wounded. Great scandal, however— planted by her lover— to !>e thrashed by her husband; t'-.i inconstancy to her regular Servente, who is coming home post about it, and she herself retired in confusion into the country, although it is the acme of the opera season. All the women furious against her (she herself having been censorious) for being foundout. She is a pretty woman— a Countess + * * * — a fine old Visigoth name, or Ostrogoth. "The Greeks! what think you? They arc my old acquaintances — but what to think I know not Let us hope, howsomever. " ^ ours, « 13." LETTER DHL TO MR. MOORE. " Ravenna, June 22, 1821'. 'Tour dwarf of a letter came yesterday. That is right ; — keep to your 'magnum opus' — magnoperate away. Now, if we were but together a little to combine our Journal of Trevouxl 1 But it is useless to sigh, and yet very natural, — for I think you and 1 draw better together, in the social line, than any two other living authors. " 1 forgot to ask you, if yo»l had seen your own pane- gyric in the correspondence "I" Mrs. Waterhouse an Colonel Berkeley? To bo sure, their moral is not quite exact; but your passion is fully effective; ami all poetry o( the Asiatic kind — I mean Asiatic, as the Romans called 'Asiatic oratory,' and not because the scenery is Oriental— must be tried by that lest only. I am not quite sure that I shall allow the Miss Byrons (legitimate or illegitimate) 10 read Lalla Rookh — in the tir^i place, on account of ibis said pussiun; and, in the second, that they may n't discover that there was a better poet than papa. "You say nothing of politics — but alas! what can be said? "Tlir- world U ahim.llf of t.oy, Muiitiiinl niv Hi" HOMO who |iull, K-h *i tup It :' rittTerani «n*\— Ami tin- greater: ol nil i* John Bull 1 "How do von call your new project? 1 have tent to Murray a new tragedy, ycleped '.Sardanapalus, 1 writ ac- cording to AristOth — all, save the chorus— 1 could not reconcile me to that' I have begun another, and am in the second act ; — so you see 1 saunter on as usual. 1 Bowles's answers have reached me; but I can't go on disputing for 1 ver^— particularly in a polite manner. 1 suppose he will take being silent for siicural. He has been so civil that I can't hud it in my liver to be facetious with him, — else 1 had a savage joke or two at his service. * * * * * * * "I can't send you the little journal, because it is in boards, and I can't UUSl u per post. Ho n't suppose it » any thing particular; but it will show the jntrntioits of the (fativea ai that time — and one or two other dnngi chiefly personal, like the former one. "So, Longman durft l»t<.— It was my wish to have lade that work ofuse. Could yOU not raise a sin I , (however small,) reserving the power of redeeming it on repaj men) ! Arc you in Pari*;, or a villajdng? If you are in tbf city, you will never resisl the Anglo-Hivasion you B|jeaJi of. I do not see an Englishman in half a year; and when 1 do, I turn my horse's head the other way. The fact, which vou will find in the last note to the Doge, has :;i\cn me a <.ood excuse for quite dropping the let nexion b Uh travellers. "Ido not recollect the speech you speak of, but it is not the Dole's, but out- ol' Israel Bcrtuccio to Calen daro. I hope you think that Klliston behaved shamefully — it is my onlv consolation. I made the Milanese foj lows contradict their lie, which they did with the grace of people used to it. "YoUre, ^< LETTER D1V. TO MR. MOORE. "Ravenna, July 5, 1821. u How could you suppose that I ever would allow any thing that could be said on your account to weigh wkfa me? I only regret that Bowles had not .vuW that you were the writer of that note until afterward, when out he comes with it, in a private letter to Murray, which Murray sends to mc. D — n the controversy ! 11 D— n Twlnle, D— n the bell, And ti— 11 the fool who rung It— Well ! From all iikIi jingoes I'll quickly l «• delivsnd. ri l have had a friend of your Mr. living's* — a very prcttv lad — a Mr. Coolidge, of Boston — only somewhat too full of poesy and l entusymusy.' I was very civil to him during his few hours' slay, and talked with him much of Irving, whose writings are my delight. But I suspect that he did not take quite so much to me, from his having expected to meet a misanthropical gentleman, in wolf- skin breeches, aitd answering in fierce monosyllables, instead of a man of this world. I can never get people to understand that poetry is the expression of cj-citcd pu*- sion, and that dure is no such thing as a life of passion any more than a continuous earthquake, or an eternal fever. Besides, who would ever shem themselves in such a state .' 11 1 have had a curious letter to-day from a girl in Eng- land, (1 never saw her,) who says she is given OVOI ■> n'i k» gel il amid /our multitudinous avocations, which [think of celebrating in a Dilhyrambic Ode to Albemarle-street. "Are you aware that Shelly has written an Elegy on Ktw»'s,f and accuses the Quarterly of killing him ? 1 Who kill'd John Keats?' ' I,' n.iys the Cliuirti.'i I y , ■ ' "f whs one of my fenta.' t I hit note "si omlttci). 1 Who »tut the arrow / ' TI.e |>oei-prie« Milinnn, (Si n*dj to kill mm.,) Or Souiliey or Barrow.' "You know very well thai 1 did not approve of Keats's poetry, or principles of poetry, or of his abuse of Pope; but, as he is dead, omit '*// that is said about him in any MSS. of mine, or publication. His Hype- rion is a line monument, and will keep his name. 1 do not envy the man who wrote the article; — you Re- view-people have no more right to Kill than any other footpads. However, he who would die of an article in a R,< view would probably have died of something ewe equally trivial. The same thins nearly happened to Kirke \\ luii', who died afterward of a consumption. 1 LETTER DX. TO MR. MOORE. "Ravenna, August 2, 1881. K I had certainly answered your hist letter, though nuf briefly, to the part to which you refer, merely Baying • damn the controversy f and quoting some verses of (oorur Colman's, not as allusive to you, but tu the dis- putants. Did you receive tin- letter } It imports me to know that our letters are not intercepted or mislaid. 1 Your Berlin drama* l$ an honour, unknown since the days of Elkanah Settle, whose 'Emperor uf Morocco* was repn -' nted bj the I 'ourl ladies, whi h was, as John- son says, ' the last blast of inflammation 1 to poor I >i mid u'ii bear it, and fell foul of Settle without ni, in Black wool's Ma^a/me, they ijuote -ohm- st an/as of an i-lt-yv uf St bezel's on Rome, from which they say that 1 might have taken some ideas. 1 give you my honour that I never saw it e\cept in that criticism, winch gives, 1 think, three or four stanzas, sent them {they say) for the nonce by a correspondent — perhaps himself. The feci is easily proved; for I don't understand German and linn- was, I beheve, no translation — al least, it was die first time that 1 ever heard uf, or saw, either transla- tion or original. "I remember having some talk with Schegel about Allien, whose merit be denies. He was al o wroth about the Edinburgh Review of Goethe, winch whs sharp enough, to I"- Bure. He went about saying, too, of the French — 'I meditate a terrible vengeance against the French — 1 will prove that Moliere is no poet, 1 * * M don't see why you Bhould talk of 'declining.' When u, you looked thinner, and yet younger, than you did when we pan.'. I several years before. You may rely Upon this as fact. If it were not, I should say nothing for I would rather nut say unpleasant personal thmgs to any one — but, as it was the pleasant tru/A, I tell it you [f you had led mj life, indeed, changing climates ami con- nejuons— thinning yqjurself with fasting and purgatives — lhe wear and tear of the vulture passions, and a very bad temper besides, von might talk in this way — but you! I know no man who looks so well for his years, or who deserves to look better and to be better, in all re- ap) eis. You are a * * *, and, what is perhaps better fir * There hml bCBD, a shorl time before, tie. Conned n( lhe Court ol Berlin, a iiwcUtcle founded on the Pi-om of L*IU Rookh, In which Oie prevent Bmpera bI Hutut ^itounled Femmon, mill the Lnii>i«« I*1U Kookli. LETTERS, 1S21. 1S3 your friends, a good fellow. So, don't talk of decay, bur put in for eighty, as you well may. "I am, at present, occupied principally about these i and exiles, which have taken place here on account of politics. Ii has been a mi sight to see the ° 'neral desolation in families. I anr-doing what I can for them, high and low, by such interest and g to b'.-ur. There have been iho riptions within the last month in tlie Exarchate, or (to speak modernly) the , ■ . . ,a man go( his bach broken, in mine from un ler a mill-wheel. The the man is in the greatest danger. I was not present — it happened before I was up, owing to the dog to bathe in a dangerous spot. I must, of course, provide lor the poor fellow while he in t his family, if he dies. I would gladly have given a much greater sum than that will come to that he had never been hurt. Pray, lei me hear from you, and excuse haste and hot weather. ■ Yours, &c. ****** u You may have probably seen al! sorts of attacks upon me in some gazettes in England some months ago. I only saw them, by Murray's bounty, die other day. They rail me md what no'. I think I now, in my lime, have bei "I have not given you details of little events here; bul they have been trying to mala me i ul 1 1 be the chief uf a wan! of proofs for an investigation has stopped them. Had it been a |, tot native, the suspicion were enough, as it has been for bundi eds. "Why don't vou write on Napoleon? I have no spirits, nor 'estro' to do so. His overthrow, from the nj, was a blow on the head to me. Since that period, we have been the slaves of fools. Excuse this long letter. Ecca a translation literal of a French epi- gram. " Pgle, beanlr and poet, has t Hide crimes, She makes her own face, and docs not make her rhymes, K I am goin^ to ride, having been warned not to a particular part of the forest, on account of the ulira- poDticians. "Is there no chance of your return to England, and of our Journal ? I would have published the two pi i — two or thr<->' scenes [» j r number — and. bid© mine in it. If you went to England, I would do so still LETTER DXI. TO MR. MURRAY. "Ravenna, August 10, 1821. * Your conduct to Mr. Moore is certainly very hand some; and I would not say so if I could help it, for yoi are not at present by any means in ray good graces. ■ With regard to additions, &C. there is a Journal which I kept in 1814 which you may ask him for; also a Jour- nal which you musl gel from .Mrs. Leigh, of my journey in the Alps, which contains all the germs of Manfred. I have also kept a small Diary here for a few months last winter, which I would send you, and any continuation You would find easy access to all my papers and tetters, and do not neglect this (in case of accidents,) on account of the mass of confusion in which they are ; f >r out of that chaos of papers you will find some curious ones of mine and others, if not lost or destroyed. If circum- stances, however (which is almost impossible,) made me osent to a publication in my lifetime, you would in that case, I suppose, make Moore some advance, in pro- i to the likelihood or non-likelihood of success. You are both sure to survive me, however. "You must also have from Mr. Moore 'he correspond- ence between me and Lady Byron, to whom I offered the sight of all which regards herself in these papers. This is important. He has her letter, and a copy of my answer. I would rather Moore edited me than another. "I sen! you Valpy^s letter to decide for yourself] and Stockdale's to amuse you. / am always loyal with you, as I was in Galignani's affair, and you with me — now and then. M return you Moore's letter, which is very creditable to him, and you, and me. tt Yours ever." LETTER DXIT. TO MR. MURRAY. "Ravenna, August 16, Ittft. " I regret that Holmes can't or won't come : it is rather shabby, as I was always very civil and punctual with him. But he is but one * * more. One meets with none else among the English. B 1 u ait the proofs of die MSS. with proper impa- tience. "So you have published, or mean to publish, the new Ar n't you afriad of the Constitutional Assas- sination of Bridge-street ? When first I saw the name of Murray 1 thought it had been yours ; but was solaced by seeing that vour synonyme is an attorneo, and that you are not one of that atrocious crew. "I am in a great discomfort about the probable war, and with my trustees not getting me out of the funds. If the funds break, it is my intention to go upon the highway. All the other English professions are al present so ungen- tlemanly by the conduct of those who follow them, that open robbing is the only fair resource left to a man of any principles ; it is even honest, in comparison, by being un- disguised. " J \\ rote to you by last post, to say that you had done the handsome thing by Moore and the Memoranda. Y'ou are very good as times go, and would probably be still better but f^r the ' march of events,' (as Napoleon called it,) which won't permit any body to be better than they should oe. * Love to GifTord. Believe me, &c. a P. S. I restore Smith's letter, whom thank for his good opinion. Is the bust bv Thorwaldsen arrived ■** LETTER DXIII. TO MR. MURRAY. "Ravenna, August 23, 1821. "Enclosed are the two acts corrected. With re- gard to the charges* about the shipwreck, I think that I told both you and Mr. Hothouse, years ago, ihat there was not a single circumstance of it not taken froinyhe'; not, indeed, from any single shipwreck, but all from actual facts of different wrecks. Almost all Don Juan is real life, ei:her of mv own, or from people I knew. By- the- way, much "1" the description of the furniture, in Canto Third, is taken from TtUlys Tripoli, (prav note this,) and the rest from my own observation. Remember, I never meant to conceal this at all, and have only not stated it. because Don Juan had no preface nor name to it. If you think it worth while to make this statement, do so in your own way. /laugh at such charges, convinced that no writer ever borrowed less, or made his materials more his own.f Much is coincidence; fir instance. Lady Morgan (in a really exceBeni ba 4c, I assure you, on Italy) calls Venice an oeeofi Rome: I have the very same expression in Foscari, and vet yent know that the play was written months ago, " Some ct iiir« hi. I acCttMd MfD of plagiarism, t See Ap^ieiiJix l> ''i*" Two Fosca,n."' 184 LETTERS, IB21. bikI sent to England: the'Italy"! received only on the 16 li nisi. . , " 1 .,,, friend, like the public, is no' aware,** my .Ira- ni,,,, simplicit) i- rt,«a«^Gre4*,aiHlmuirtconiinuo»q: „„ reform ever succeeded at lirsi. 1 admire me old Ertelish dramatists; bui thisUquiie another field, and nas ,„,:(„,,, io do wilh theirs. 1 want to make a regular English drama, no matter whether for the stageor not, which isno mi ,,1,,,-ei,— but a mctioi' «rWre. _ » ^ ours. •P. S. Can't accept your oourteous offer. .. p m n,. ilttcgntn Yon civc much more Umhi nil' ye" gare J \\ iin-li ,. not fiurle i h«*e. Mi Murray. ■• Bo inse If :i lier dog, '« i* Mia, Bi worth* lion fairly lueti, A ffM ton! mtul t.c worts MoOrMi M, M„,r„y. '• And .f. Mthe ...iiimii -■■-■■. Vi .... li .11. .. . M.'' Mil* ''""' ?»•*— C.-u-s, lchuuklh»ve '".-.- „,, il»'»e, Mv Murray. Q i ,, iw ihtitliMI '• liearlj I I An I Ifyuu icon'l.you 'n..v beflnm My Murrv- juri sent bin. die [Mowing answer .o a propoiiUi his ■■— •• K.»r Orf.r.l „,>.! for WntltfJ". *<=. -The innmuaii of the above is, that he wan 'slinf n.L- of mv tilings, as Lear says-•• the expen fa trmdhnf lawyer. Tbcy do enough, in ihat nay, at home. ■Ah, pool Q,uenn! but perhaps it is 6* the best, if Herudotus's one. J is to be 1» '■>■ ivcd * Iteniembet me to an) fncndly An les "I our ' al acqiiai.ua What are y loing? Here I ha* my hands full "f tyrants and their v a. There never was such oppression, even in Ireland, scarcely 1" •These matteis must be arranged with Mr. Douglas K,iM,.ur.l. 11<- is my trustee, ami a man of honour. To i in v ,„j can state oil your mercantile reasons, which you might not likc.to state to me personally, such as, 'heavy s ., on'— 'Hat public'— 'dorA go ofT— ' lordship writes i i ii h'— ■won't ink.- advice'— -'declining popularity— deduction for the trade'— 'make very little'— • generally 1 , ,| unV-f pirated edition'— ' foreign edition'— 'severe criticisms,' &e., with other hints and howls tor an oration, which 1 leave Douglas, who is an orator, to answer. « Vuu can also state litem more freely to a thirJ per- son, as between you ami me they could only produce B smut postscripts, which would not adorn our mu- tual archives. " 1 am sorry for die Queen, anil tint's more than you LETTER DXIV. TO Mil. MOOHE. "Ravenna, August 24, l c -'l •Yours of the 5th only yesterday, while I had Utters ofthe 8th from London. Doth the post dabble int it letters? Whatever agreement you make with Murray, i id factory to you, must be so t. me. There need be no scruple, because, though I used sometimes lobun I |ng a quibble us well as die barbarian hira- s. t (Shakspeare, to wit)— 'that, like aSpartan,Iw .1 sell m) ■'''• as 'liarl;/ as possible'—,, never was my inton- tiontotuni ilto personal, pecuniar) account, b be- queath it to a friend— yourself— in die eve,,, ofsurvivor- jhjp. | .„,,„ ipated thai period, because we happened to meet, and I urged you to make what was possible netnbj it, for reasons which are obvi his. li has been no possi- ble privatum to me, and therefore does not require the acknowledgments you mention. So, forGod's sake, do n't consider it like * "By-the-wav, when you writo to Lady Morgan, will you thank her for her handsome s] ihes in hei I k about my books ? I do not know her address. Her work is fearless and excellent on (he subject "I [t»iy— pray lell hoi so— and I know the country. I wish «n« bad fallen ,„ » ,th me, I could have told her a diing or two that would have confirmed her positions. "I am olad that you arc satisfied with Murray, who se.-ms to value dead lords more than live ones. I have LETTER DXV. TO tin. MURRAY. "Ravenna, August SI, 1821. " I have received the Joans, which are printed so <-„;r- fessiy, especially the fifth cat/ ■■ as to be disgraci ful and not creditable to you. It reaUy must be got „.-„,ii with the mmaaaipti ihe errors are so gross ■— words added— changed— so as io make cacophont nonsense. V„„ have I f this poem bees i some of your s,|„ad dou't approve of it; but 1 nil you that it will be long before you see any thing half SO _ as poetry or writing. Opon what principle hav, omitted the note on Bacon and Vo'tairo .' and one „f the | concluding Btauzas senl as an addition .'—because it ended, 1 suppose, with — " And do no, H,iV two vlrtUOU eoule for life l„lo llt.u moral cenlour, mur, and wife? "Now 1 most sav, once for all, that I will not permil any human being to take such liberties with my writings Because 1 am absent. I desire the omissions In be re- placed (exaepl the stanza on Sennramis,)— particularly the stanza upon the Turkish marriages; and I request ihat ihe whole be carefully gone over with the M6>. "1 never saw st.eh stuff as is printed j— GuHeyas in .„.,„,, if,, „//,eva/, &•-. Are you aware that Gulbeyat a , real name and the other nonsense? 1 copied hs ;„„/,., out carefully, s u there ,u .no te printer read, oral least jrmU,the MS. of die plays with- ,,!„ error. I, ,„„ have, no feeling for your own reputation, pray ace some Bttle for inine. I have read over the n carefully, and I tell you, it ■'•• ,»«"-.'/• ^ °"' ««« '"' "" ■ knot of parson-poets may say what they please: i„„e ill show that I am not in this instance mistaken. "Desire my fnend Hobhouse to correct the press, especially of the last canto, from the manuscript as it is. I, is anoti-hto drive one outofoneVi teas,,,, Io seethe infernal torture of words from the original. For ii.s.aiieo the line — » And ^ir their rhyme. .. Venue Joke, her dor..-- is printed — " Ami yraiii tl.eir rhymce, &e. Also 'preconrms' for ' preoodaus ;' and this line, stanza 133 " .W «li» elrone eJlreme e/eel 10 lire na I ,n t ,r. ^ • (.orrevieil L Vtii« edilwa. LETTERS, 1821. 185 intrusted to Mr. Mawman for me, contained a portion. to the amount of nearly a hundred pages, of a prose story, relating the adventures of a young Andalusian nobleman, which had been begun by him, at Venice, in 1S17, of which the following is an extract. — Moore.] a A few hours afterward we were very good fri.jnds, and a few days after she set out for Arragon, with my son, on a visit to her father and mother. I did not ao company her immediately, having been in Arragon before, but was to join the family in then Moorish chateau within ,i few weeks. "During her journev T received a very affectionate letter from Donna Josepha, apprizing me of the welfare of herself and my son. On her arrival at the chateau, I received another still more affectionate, pressing me, in very Kind, and rather f m lish term-, to join her immedi- ately. As I was preparing to set out from Seville. I received a third — this was from her father, Don Jose di Oardozo, who requested me, in the politest manner, to dissolve my marriage. I answered him with equal polite- ness, that I would do no such thing. A fourth letter arrived — it was from Donna Josepha. in which she in- formed me that her father's letter was written by her particular desire. I requested the reason by return of st — she replied, by express, that as reason had nothing to do with the matter, it was unnecessary to give any— hut that she was an injured and excellent woman. I then inquired why she had written to me the two preceding affectionate letters, requesting me to come to Arragon. She answered, that was because she believed me out of my senses — that, being unfit to take care of myselfj I had only to set out on this journey alone, and make my way without difficulty to Don Jose di Cardozo's, I should there have found the tenderest of wives and — a straight waist- coat. "I had nothing to reply to this piece of affection but a reiteration of my request for some lights upon the subject. I was answered that they would only be related to the Inquisition. In the mean time, our domestic discrepancy had become a public topic of discussion; and the world, which always decides justly, not only in Arragon but in Andalusia, determined that I was not only to blame, but that all Spain could produce nobody so blameable. My case was supposed to comprise all the crimes which could, and several which could not, be committed, and little less than an auto-da-fe was anticipated as the result. But let no man say that we are abandoned by our friends in adversity — it was just the reverse. Mine thronged around me to condenm, advise, and console me with their disap- probation. — They told me all that was, would, or could be said on the subject. They shook their heads — they ex- hort. ,| me — deplored me, with tears in their eyes, and — went to dinner. 11 Now do turn to the manuscript and see if I ever wrote such a bnp; it is not terse. " No wonder the poem should fail, (which, however, it won't you will see,) with such things allowed to creep about it. Replace what is omitted, and correct what is so shamefully misprinted, and let the poem have fair olav ; and ] fear nothing. " I see in the last two numbers of die Quarterly a strong itching to assail me, (see the review of ' The Eto- nian ;') lei it, and see if they sha'n't have enough of it. 1 do not allude to Gilford, who has always been my friend, and whom 1 do not consider as responsible for the articles written by others. "You will publish the plays when ready. I am in such a humour about this printing of Don Juan so inaccurate!) that I must close this. " Yours. ■ P. S. I presume that you have not lost the stimza to which I allude? It was sent afterward: look over my letters and find it." LETTER DXVI.* TO MR. MUKRAY. ■ The enclosed letter is written in bad humour, but not without provocation. However, let it (that is, the bad homour) go for little ; but f must request your serious attention to the abuses of the printer, which ought never to have been permitted. You forget that all the fools London ((he chief purchasers of your publications) will condemn in me the stupidity of your printer. For instance, in the notes to Canto Fifth, 'the Adriatic shore of the Bosphorus 1 instead of the Asiatic .'.' All this may seem little to you, so fine a gentleman with your ministerial connexions, hut it is serious to me, who am thousands of miles ofij and have no opportunity of not proving myself the fool your printer makes me, except your pleasure and leisure, fbrSOOth. " The gods prosper you, and forgive you, for I can't." LETTER DXVIL TO MR. MOORE. " Ravenna, Sept. 3, 1821. tt By Mr. Mawman, (a paymaster in the corps, in which you and 1 are privates,) I yesterday expedited to your address, under cover one, two paper-books, containing the (rtaour-nal, and a thing or two. It won't all do — even for ihe posthumous public — but extracts from it may. It is a brief and faithful chronicle of a month or so — parts of it not very discreet, but sufficiently sincere. Mr. Maw- man saitb that he will, in person or per friend, have it delivered to you in your Elysian fields. "If you have got the new Joans, recollect that there are some very gross printer's blunders, particularly in the Fifdi Canto, — such as ' praise' fur ' pair" — ' precarious' for precocious' — ' Adriatic' for ' Asiatic' — ' case'for ' chase 1 — besides gifts of additional words and syllables, which make hut a Cacophonous rhvthmus. Put the pen through the said, as I would mine through Murray's ears if 1 were alongside of him. As it is, I have sent him a rattling letter, as abusive as possible. Though he is publisher to the ' Board of Longitude? he is in no danger of discover- in- it. "I am packing for Pisa — but direct your letters here, till farther notice. u Y'ours ever, &c." [One of the K paper-books" mentioned in this letter as LETTER DXVIII. TO MR. MURRAY. * Written Li U» tuvtlupc of the preceding Lstler. 24 "Ravenna, Sept. 4, 182] a By Saturday's post, I sent you a fierce and furibuml letter upon the subject of the printer's blunders in Don Juan. I must solicit your attention to the topic, Uiough my wrath hath subsided into sullenness. "Yesterday I received Mr. , a friend of yours, and because he is a friend of yours ; and that 's more than I would do in an English case, except for those whom 1 honour. I was as civil as I could be among packages- even to the very chairs and tables, for I am going to Pisa in a few weeks, and have sent and am sending off my chattels. It regretted me that, my books and every thing being packed, I could not send you a few things I meant for you ; but they were all sealed and baggaged, so as to havw made it a month's work to get at lliem a^ain. I 1SS LETTERS, 1821. gave him an envelope, wilh tlie Italian scrap in it,* al Rul- ed to in* my Gilchrist defence. Hobhouse will make it out for you, and it "ill make jrou laugh, and him too, the ilarly. The ' Mericani, 1 of whom they call 'Capo,' (or Chief]) mean 'Americana,' which is the name given in Romagna to a part of the Carbonari that is to say, t'» the popular pari, the troops of the Carbo- nari. They are originally a society of hunters in tb forest, who took the name of Americans, but at present comprise some thousand ,&c; but I aha' n't let you far tli'T into tin* secret, which may be participated with the postmasters. Why they thoughl me their Chief] I know not: their Chiefs are like ' Legion, being many.' H« ever, i' is a post of more honour than profit, for, new thai they are persecuted, it is- lit that I should aid them; and bo I have done, as far as my means would permit. They are blundering: they actually seem to know nothing) fbj lh< - have arrested and banished many of their own put] and let others escape who are not their friends. " What think'st thou of Greece? " Address to me here as usual, till you hear farther fron mr. * Hy Mawman I have sent a Journal to Moore ; hut ii won't do for the public, — at least a great deal of it won 1 ! — parts may. "I read over the Juans, which are excellent. Your Squad are quite wrong ; and so you will find by-and-by I regret that I do not go on with it, for I had all the plan for several cantos, and different countries and climes. You say nothing of the note I enclosed to you, whii h « ill explain why 1 agreed to discontinue u, (at Madame Guie- cioii's request;) but you are 50 grand, and sublime, and occupied, that one would think, instead of publishing for 1 the Board of Longitude? that you were trying to dis- cover it. "Let me hear that Gilford is better. He can't be spared either bv you or me." LETTER DXIX. TO Mil. MURRAY. "Ravenna, Sept. 12, 1821 "By Tuesday's post, I forwarded, m three packets, the drama of Cain in three acts, of which I request th< acknowledgment when arrived. To the last speech of JSve, in the last act, (i. e. where she curses Cain,) add these three lines to the concluding ones — " May the grass wither from thy fool ! Mil* woods Deny that ■belter I earth n home] the dust A grave 1 the BUD his light I tun! HtftVeQ her God I B There 's as pretty a piece of imprecation for you, Ahen jmiud to the lines already sent, as you may wish 10 meet with in the course of your business. Hut don't forgel the addition of the above tlwee lines, which are slim hers to Eve's speech. "Let me I, now what I fifibrd thinks, (if the play arrives in safety ;) for I have a good opinion of the piece, as poetry; it ia in my gay metaphysical style, and in the Manfred line. * You must at least commend mv facility and variety, wnen you consider what I have done within the last fifteen mouths, with my head, too, full of other and of mundane matters. But no doubt you will avoid saying any good «f it, for fear I should raise the price upon you: that's light : stick to business. Let me know what your other ragamuffins are writing, f >r I suppose you do n't like start- ing too many of your vagabonds at once. You may give Litem the start lor any thing I care. •Why don't you publish my Puhd — the very best thing I «ver wrote, — with the Italian to it ? I wish I was along- An anonymoiu letter whith lie had received, ihrocieumc hira with awloauon. side of you ; nothing is ever done in a man's absence : every body runs counter, because they ran. If ever I do return to England, (which I aha' n't, though,) I wiU write a pop mi to winch L Knglish Bards,' &c. shall be new milk, in comparison. Your present literary world of mountebanks stands in need of such an Avatar. But I am not yet quiie bin •'<■• enough: a season or two more, and a provocation or two, will wind me up to the point, ami then have :ii (he whole set! "I have no patience with the sort of trash you send me out by way of books ; except Scott's novels, and three or four other things, I never saw such work, or works. Camp- bell is lecturing — -.%!.►.. r. idling — Sou they twaddling — Wordsworth drivelling — Coleridge muddling — * * pid- dling — Howies quibbling, squabbling and snivelling. * + willtfoj ifhedon't cant too mucb,nor imitate Southey ; the fellow has poesy in him : bur he 1- envious ami unhappy, as all the em 1 on-; are. Siill he is among the best of the day. Barry Cornwall will do better by-and-by, I dare say, if he don' 1 get spoiled by green tea, and the praises of Pen- lonvilic and Paradise-row, The pity of these nun is, that they never lived in tdgh lilt, nor in solitude: there is no medium tor the knowledge of the suayor the still world. If admitted into high life lor a season, it 1- merely as specta- tors — they form no part of the mechanism thereof Now, Moore and I, the one by circumstances, and the other by birth, happened to be free of the corporation, and to have entered into its pulses and passions, rnwwn partes f minus. Both of us have learned by this much which nothing else could have taught us. "Yours. "P. S. I saw one of your brethren, another of the allied sovereigns of Grub-street, the other day, Mawman the Qreat, by whom I sent due homage to your imperial self. To-morrow's post may perhaps bring a letter from you, but you are the most ungrateful and ungracious of corre- spondents. But there is some excuse l"-r you, with your perpetual levee of politicians, parsons, scribblers, and loun- gers. Some day I will give you a poetical catalogue of them." LETTER DXX. TO MR. MOORE. " Ravenna, Sept. 17,1821. "The enclosed lines,* as you will directly peree*Ye,are written by the Rev. W. L. Bowles. Of course it is for him to deny them if they are not. "Believe me yours ever and most affectionately, *B. "P. S. Can you forgive this? It is only a reply to your lines against my Italians. Of course I will stand by my lines against all men ; but it is heart-breaking to see SUfifa things in a people as the reception of thai unredeemed * + * * * * in an oppressed oountry. Four apotheosia is now reduced to a level with his welcome, and their grati- tude to Grattan is cancelled by their atrocious adulation of this, &c. &c. &c." LETTER DXXI. TO MR. MOORE. ■ Ravenna, Sept. 19, 1821. "I am in all the sweat, dust, and blasphemy of a uni- ■rsal packing of all my things, furniture, &c. for Pisa, whether I go for the winter. The cause has been the exile of all my fellow Carbonics, and, among them, of the " The IrflhAmtar," Poems, p. 4S5. In this copy the following Mn- i' nee (taken from a Letter of Curran, in the «t>le Life of thnt true Irutj- Mn, bj his son) is prefixed as a motto to the Poem—" And Ireland, lit 3 ■ I elephant, kneeling to receive the paltry rider." — Letterof ww n pef 389 II the, end of the raraei *'•■ thaw wonla ; >Si K ncri) W, L. B ' *, M. A., and written with a view lo a Biehop ck. —Moore. LETTERS, 1821. 1S7 whole family of Madame G. who, you know, was divurccd from her husband Last w eek, ' on account oi V. P. clerk of this parish,' and who is obliged to join her father and rela- tives, mw in exile there, to avoid being shut up in a mo- naster; because the Pope's decree of separation required her to reside in cam paterna, or else, for decorum's sake, in a convent. As I could not say, wiih Hamlet, ' Gel thee to a nunnery, 1 1 am preparing to follow them. " It is awiul work, this love, and prevents all a man's projects of good or glory. I wanted to go to Greece lately _as everv thing seems up here) with lier brother, who is a" verv fine, brave fellow, (I have seen liim put to the proof,) and vuld about liberty. But the tears of a woman v.h,. lias left a husband f >r a man, and the weakness of one's own bean, are paramount to these projects, and I can hardly indulge them. " We were divided in choice between Switzerland and Tuseanv, and I give my vote for Pisa, as nearer the Mediterranean, which I love for the sake of the shores which it washes and for my young recollections of 1S09. Switzerland is a cursed, selfish, swinish country of brutes, placed in the most romantic region of the world. I never could bear the inhabitants, and still less their English visiters : for which reason, after writing for some informa- tion about houses, upon hearing that there was a colony of English all over the cantons of Geneva, &c. I imme- diate!) gave up the thought, and persuaded the Gatnbas DO do the same. "By last post I sent you 'the Irish Avatar,'— what think you ? The last line — ' a name never spoke but with curses or jeers' — must rim either ' a name only uttered with curses or jeers,' or, ' a wretch never named but with curses or jeers.' Berase as how, ' spoke' is not grammar, except in the House of Commons ; and I doubt whether we can say 'a name spoken] for mentioned. I have some doubts, too, about 'repay,' — 'and for murder repay with a shout and a smile.' Should it not be, ' and for murder repay him with shouts and a smile,' or l reward him with shouts and a smile ? " So, pray put your poetical pen through the MS. and take the least bad of the emendations. Also, if there be anv farther breaking of Priscian's head, will you apply a plaster.' I wrote in the greatest harry and fury, and sent it to you the dav after ; so, doubtless, there will be some awful constructions, and a rather lawless conception of rhvthmus. " With respect to what Anna Seward calls ' the liberty of transcript,'— when complaining of Miss Matilda Mug- glelon, the accomplished daughter of a choral vicar of Worcester Cathedral, who had ahused the said ' liberty of transcript,' by inserting in the Malvern Mercury, Miss s ..oi , 'Elegy on the South Pole,' as her own produc- tion, with lier mm signature, two years after having taken a' copv, bv permission of the authoress— with regard, 1 sav, to the' liberty of transcript,' I by no means oppose an occasional copy to the benevolent few, provided it does not degenerate into sorb licentiousness of \ erb and Noun as may tend to ' disparage my parts of speech' by the carelessness of the trauseribblers. ■ I do not think that there is much danger of the ' King's Press being abused 1 upon tbe occasion, if the publishers of journals have any regard for their remaining liberty of person. It is as pretty a piece of invective as ever put publisher in the way to 'Botany.' Therefore, if they meddle with it, it is at their peril. As for myself, I will answer any jontleman — though I by no means recognise a 'rioht of search' into an unpublished production and tmavowed poem. The same applies to things published snm consent. I hope you Like, at least, the concludin, lines of the Putnc? " What are you doing.and where are you ? in England ? now in his hands, or in the printer's. It is in the Man- fred, metaphysical style, and full of some Titanic decla- ma'ion ; — Lucifer being one of the dram. pers. who takes Cain a voyage among the stars, and, afterwards, to' Hades,' where he shows him the phantoms of a former world, and its inhabitants. 1 have gone upon the notion ofCuvier, thai the world has been destroyed three or four times, and was inhabited by mammoths, behemoths, and what not ; but not by man till the Mosaic period, as, indeed, is proved by the strata of bones found ;— those of all unknown animals, and known, ft ring dug oat, but none of mankind. I have, therefire, suppiscl Cain to be shown, in the rational Preadamites, beings endowed with a higher in- telligence than man, but' totally unlike him in form, and with much greater strength of mind and person. \ou may suppose the small talk which takes place between loin and Lucifer upon these matters is not quite canonical. "The consequence is, that Cain comes back and kills Abel in a fit of dissatisfaction, partly with the politics of Paradise, which bad driven them all out of it, and partly because (as it is written in Genesis) Abel's sacrifice was the more acceptable to the Deity- I trust that the Rhapsody has arrived— it is in three acts, and entitled ' A Mystery,' according to the former Christian custom, and in honour of what it probably will remain to lluj reader. " Yours, Sic." LETTER DXXII. TO MR. MOORE. "September 20, 1821. "After the stanza on Gratlan, concluding with 'His soul o'er the freedom implored and denied,' will it please vou to cause insert tbe following 'Addenda,' which 1 dreamed of during to-day's Siesta : " Ever glurious Grallmi ! &c. &c. &c. I will tell you what to do. Get me twenty copies of the whole carefully and privately printed off, as your lines were on the Naples affair. Send me sir, and distribute the rest according to your own pleasure. " 1 am in a fine vein, ' so full of pastime and prodiga- lity ? — So, here 's to your health in a glass of grog. Pray write, that I may know by return of post — address to me at Pisa. The gods give you joy! "Where are you? in Paris? Let us hear. You will take care that there be no printers name, nor author's, as in the Naples stanzas, at least for the present." LETTER DXX1I1. TO Mn. MURRAY. " Ravenna, Sept. 20, 1821. " You need not send ' the Blues,' which is a mere buf- foonery, never meant for piiblicalion.* "The papers to which 1 allude, in case of survivorship are collections of letters, &c. since I was sixteen years old, contained in the trunks in the care of Mr. Hobhouse. This collection is at least doubled by those I have now here, all received since my last ostracism. To these I should wish the editor to have access, nn( for the purpose of abusing confidences, nor of hurling the feelings of cor- respondents living, nor the memories of tbe dead ; but there are things which would do neither, that I have left unnoticed or unexplained, and which (like all such things) time only can permit to be noticed or explained, though some are to my credit. The task will of course require delicacy ; but that will not be wanting, if Moore and Hob- Nail Murray— nail luni to his own counter, till he shells I house survive me, and, I may add, yourself; and that you out the thirteens. Since I wrote to you, 1 have sent him another tragedy — ■' Cain' by name — making three in MS. I ■ See Poem*, p. 461 1SS LETTERS. IS2T, may all three do so is, I assure you, my very sincere with. I am not sure thai lung life is desirable for one of my temper and constitutional depression of spirits, win* h of course I suppress in society ; but which breaks out when a! Hi*-, and in my writings, in spite of myself. It lias been deepened, perhaps, by some long-past events, (I do not allud-- ti> my marriage, &c— -on the contrary, Oiat raised them by the persecution giving a fillip to my spirits ;) but I call it constitutional, as I have reason to think it. You know, or you do not know, that mv maternal grandfather, (a very clever man, and amiable, I am told J was Btrohgly uicide, (he was found drnwned in the Avon at Bath,) and that another very near relative of tin- saint branch took poison, and was merely savnl by antidotes, For I lie first of these events there was no apparent cause, as he was rich, respected, and of considerable intellectual resources, hardly forty years of age, and not at all addicted unhinging vice. It was, however, but a strong in, owing to the manner of his death and his melan- rholv temper. The second had a cause-, but it does not becom me 1 6 touch upon h : it happened when I was far too young to be aware of it, and I never heard of it till after the death of that rotative, many years afterward, I t] ink, then, lhal I may call this dejection constitutional. I hail always been told that I resemoled more my maternal Crandlather than any of my father.* family — that is, in the gloomier part of his temper, tor he was what you call a g tov-natwed man, and I am not. " The Journal here I sent to Moore the other day ; but a- it is a mere diary, only parts of it would ever do for publication. Tin- other Journal of the Tour in 1816,1 should think Augusta might let you have a copy of. u I am much mortified that n that, if understood, they will in tune find favour (llioiil-h nut on the sta^-e) with the reader. The simpli- city of plot is intentional, and the avoidance of rant also, as also the compression of the speeches in the more se- vere situation-;. What I seek to show in ' the Fosoans' is the suppressed passions, rather Uian the rant of the pre- sent day. For that matter— » N.iy, if thou *tt moulh, I 'II runt u» will m ibou— ' would not be difficult, as I think I have shown in my younger productions, — not dramatic ones, to be sure. But, as I said before, I arn mortified that GitTord don't like thern ; hut I see no remedy, our notions on that subject being so different. How is he? — well, I hope; — let me know. I regret his .lemur the more that he has been always my grand patron, and I know no praise which would compensate me in mv own mind for his censure. 1 do not mind Reviews, as I can work them at their own weapons. u Fours, Sic. - Address to me at Pisa, whither I am going. The reason is, that all my Italian friends here have been exiled, and are met there for the present, and I go to join them, as agreed upon, for the winter." LETTER DXXIV. TO MR. MURRAY. "Ravenna, Sept. 21, 1921. * 1 have been thinking over our late correspondence, und wish to propose to you the following articles for our future : "Istly, That you shall write to me of yourself, of the health, wealth, and welfare of all friends; but of me (tjno'td me) little or nothing. 2dly. That you shall send me soda-powders, tooth- powder, tooth-brushes, or any such anti-odontalgic or chemical articles, as heretofore ( ad libitum,' upon being reimbursed for the same. "3d!v. That vou shall not send me any modem, or (as they are called) »«r publications, in Kngtirii, w/i«/*jeier, save ami excepting anv writing, prose or verse, of (or reasonably presumed to be of) Walter £eott, Cnthbe, Moore, Campbell, Rogers, (iitlord, Joanna BaiUie, irvmgj (the American,) Bogg, Wilson, (the Isle of Paha or any cspe< nl amgfe wi-rk of fancy which is thought lo be of considerable merit; Voyage* and Tnnck, pi that they are neither m G ••■. \ pom, Ana JWinor, Al- bania, nor Italy, will be welcome. Having travelled the countries mentioned, I know that wha! is said of them can convey nothing farther which I desire to know about them. — No other English works whatsoever. u -Ithly. That you send me no periodical works what- soever — no Edinburgh, (Itiarterly, Monthly, nor any review, magazine, or newspaper, English or fereigBj ol any description. "5thly. That you send me no opinions whatsoever, either £,''**/. hoi/, or hidi/ffratt, of yourself, or vonr f| i>-it d&j or others, cotircriung any work, or works, of mine, past present, or to come. "6thlv. That all negotiations in matters of bnsinon between you and me pass through the medium of the Hon. Douglas Kmnaird, my friend and trustee, or Mr. Hobhouse, as 'Alter ego,' and tantamount to myself dur- ing mv absence — or presence. "Some of these propositions may at first seem strange, hut they are founded. The quantity of trash I have received as books is incalculable, and neither amused nor instructed. Reviews and magazines are at the best but ephemeral and superficial reading : — who thinks of the %rand article of last year in anv trie en Rt i UTW ? In the next place, if they regard mvself, thev lend to increase ?%otixm. If favourable, I do not denv that the praise iota, and if unfavourable, that the abuse irritates. The latter may conduct me to inflict a species of satire, which would neither do good to you nor to your friends : they may smite note, and so may you ; but if I look vou all in hand, it would not be difficult to cut you up like gourds. I did as much by as powerful people at nine- teen years old, and I know little as yet, in three-aud- thirly, which should prevent me from making all your ribs gridirons for your hearts, if such were Tnv pro- pensity : but it is not ; therefore let me hear none of your provocations. If anv thine, occurs so very gross as to require my notice, I shall hear of it from my legal friends. For the rest, I merely request to be left in norance. " The «atne applies to opinions, ^W, /><«/, or uuliferenL, of persons in conversation or correspondence. These do nut interrupt, but they soil, the current of my miwt. I am sensitive enough, but not till I am tmuNul ; and here [ am beyond the touch of ihe short arms of literary Englanil, execpl the few feelers ofthe polypus lliat cra«l over the channels in die way of extract. All these precautions in England would he useless , the libeller or the flatterer would there reach me in sjale >f all ; but in Italy we know- little of literary England, and think less, except what reaches us through some arbled and brief extract in some miserable gazette. Fur two years (excepting two or three articles cut out ami s. nt to you by the post) I never read a newspaper which was not forced upon me by some accident, and know, upon the whole, as little of England as vou do of Italy, and God knows that is little enough, with all your travels, &e. &c. &c. The English travellers hnuiv lUdy as you know Guernsey: how much is that? " If any thing occurs so violently gross or persona! as reipnres notice, Mr. Douglas Kinnaird will let me know , but of praise, I desire to hear nothing. You will say, ' to what tends all this V I w ill answer that ; — to keep my mind free ami unlr.ased by all t for I shall always )*■ yours and ever truly, "Byron. "P.S. I have taken these resolutions not from any irritation against you or yours, but simply upon reflection that ai 1 reading, either praise or censure, of myself has done nie barm. When I was in Switzerland and Greece. I was out of the way of hearing either, and tutw I wrote — In Italy I am out of the way of it too; but lat- terly, [»artly through my fault, and partly through your in wishing to send me the newest and mo*t periodica] publications, I have had a crowd of Reviews, Be. thrust upon me, wl ich have bored me with their jargon, of one kind or another, and taken off mv atten- tion from greater objects. You have also sent me a parcel of tra chances. Most of them have probably destroyed th* letters, which in fact are of little import, many of then* written when very young, and several at school and college. " Peel (the second brother of the Secretary) was a cor- respondent of mine, and also Porter, the son of the Bishop of * Hogher ; Lord Clare a very voluminous one ; William Harness (a friend of Milman's) another ; Charles Drum- mond 1 (sonoflhe banker ;) William Bankes (the voyager) your friend ; R. C. Dallas, Esq. ; Hodgson ; Henry Drury ; Ht.bhntisc you were already aware of. " 1 have gone through this long list of 1 Tl.c cold, ihc faithleai, and the dead,* because I know thai, like 'the curious in fish-sauce,' you are a researcher of such things. "Besides these, there are other occasional ones to lite- rary men and so forth, complimentary, &c. &c. &c. not worth much more than the rest. There are some hun- dreds, too, of Italian notes of mine, scribbled with a noble contempt of the grammar and dictionary, in very English Etruscan ; for I speak Italian very fluendy, but write if carelessly and incorrectly to a degree." • The lima "Oh Wellington," Don Juan, Canto IX. St am* I, fee. which I ii».l mi*aed iu their original place at the opcaiux of the Third Can'o, ind leuk Ibi granted that itwy bad been aupptneaad by hla puWuuer,- .Moor 4. LETTER DXXVU. TO MR. MOORE. "September 29, 1821. K I send you two rough things, prose and verse, nof • He b*n advert, torn paaaing remark in one of Mr. Murray '» KlUTi hut «» hi! lonUhip'i " Memoranda" were not to be published In hu lUetlmf iht «un now paid for ibe work, 21t*J/. would mull probably, i |IO ti a r*a*oiiable calculation d ioi vivonbip, amount ultimately to oa Itiaalhuj BOOM*— Atetfrt. 190 LETTERS, 1821. much in themselves, but which will show, one of them the state of the country, and the other of your Quod's nt in J, when they were written. Neither of (hem were !■ ...i on concerned, but you will see, by the si.k of ui> in, thai the^were sincere, u [am in signing myself " SfoUM ever and truly, ■B." [Of ihe two enclosures, mentioned in the foregoing np;e, oue was a lettei intended to bv sent lo Lad} Byron, relative to his money invested in the funds) oCwtuch ihe following aru extracts.] "Ravenna, Mar/a Imoj 1821. "I have received your message, through mysisterV letter about English security, &c. &c. U is coo (and true, even,) thai such is to be found — hut nut that I shall find it. Air. * *, for his own views and purposes, will thwart all such attempts till he has accomplished bis own, viz. to make me lend my fortune to some client of bis choosing. "At this distance — after this absence, and with my utter ignorance of affairs and business — with my temper an 1 impatience] I have neither the means nor the- mind to resist. ' * * * * * Thinking of the funds as I do, and wishing to secure a r rvesion to my sister and her children, 1 should jump at most expedients. u What I told you is come to pass — the Neapoliian war is declared. Your funds will fall, and 1 shall he ii consequence ruined. That 's nothing — but my blood- relations will be so. You and your child are provided for. Live and prosper — I wish so much to both. Live and prosper — you have the means. 1 think but of rny rc&l kin and kindred, who may he the victims uf this ae- cursed bubble. " You neither know nor dream of the consequences of this war. It is a war of nun with monarchs, and wi Spread liko a spark on the dry, rank grass of the vegeta- ble desert. What ii is with you and your English, you do not know, fur ye sleep. What it is with us here, I know, for it is before, and around, and within us. "Judge of my detestation of England and of all that it inherit-;, when I avoid returning to your country at a time when nut only my pecuniary interest, but, ii may be, even mv personal security require it. I can Bay no more, for all letters are opened. A short time will decide upon what is to be done here, and then you will learn it without being mure truubled widi me or my correspondence. Whatever happens an individual is little, so that the cause is forwarded. " I have no more to say to you on the score of alfairs or on any other subject." (The second enclosure' in the note consisted of some verses, written hy him, Dee'iuher 10th, 1H20, on seeing the following paragraph in a newspaper. B Lady Byron is this year the lady patroness at the annual ( lharity Ball given at the Town Hall al Hinckly, Leicestershire, and Sir G. Crewe, Bart, the principal steward." These verses are full of strong and indignant reeling, — every stanza concluding pointedly with the words "Charity Ball," — and the thought that predominates through the whole may be collected from a few of the opening lines. — Moore.] " Wlml mutter the pnng* of n huitnind ami fnlhcr. If hi* *orroum in BlUe he gre«l 01 t«imaN, So the Pharisee"* glorin around hrr •lie gather, Ami the Saint I'lun-ninu* her ' Charity Ball.' Whit matter*-— a heart, which though faulty wu feeling, Be driven lo eicewi which once could ajinal— That the Sinner ahould luffer ia only fair dealing. AaUio Saint keep* her Jmuiy buck lor* the- Bnll. 1 Sc.&c." LETTER DXXVIIL TO MR. MOORE. "September—no — October 1, 1821. " I have written to vou lately, botli m prose and verse^ at great lenglli, to Paris and London. 1 presume that Mrs. Moore, or whoever i-; your Pans deputy, will for- ward my packets to you in London. "1 am setting off f r Pisa, if a slight incipient intermit- tenl fever dv not prevent me. 1 fear it is nut strung enough to give Murray much chance df realizing his thir- B : .iiii. 1 hardly should regret it, I think, provided vou raised your price upon him — as what Lady Holder* ness (my sisters grandmother, a Dutchwoman) used to i all A.U usta, her Ra'tdee Isgaioo — so as to provide for us all ; my bones with a splendid and lannovanie edition, and you with double what is extractable during my tifl time, "1 have a strong presentiment that (bating some oul- uf-tlie-wav accidenti you Will survive me. The differ- ence of eight years, or whatever it is between our ages is nothing. I do not feel (nor am, indeed anxious to el) the principles of life m me tend to longevity. My lather and mother died, the one at thirty-five or six, and tie othei at forty-five ; and Doctor Rush, or somebody else, says that nobody lives long, without having vne parent t at least, an old stager. Li 1 g/wuW, to he sure, like to see out my eternal mother- in-law, not so much for her heritage, but from my natural antipathy. Bui the indulgence of tins natural desire is too much to expect from the Providence who presides i.iver old women. 1 bore you with all tins about lues, because it has been put in my way by a calculation of ensurances which Murray has sent me, I really think you should have more, if I evaporate within a reason- able time. "I wonder if mv ' Cain 1 has got safe to England, I have written since alKiut sixty stanzas of a poem, in octave stanzas,* (in the Pulci style, which the fools in 1 think uas invented by Wlnstlecraf: — it is as old as the lulls in Italy,) called ' The Vision of Judgment, by Q,uo vedo Redivivus,' with this motto— ' A Daniel come to judgment, yen, a Daniel : I tu. ink UiM, Jew, for touching me that word.' "In this it is my intent to put the said George*s Apo- theosis in a Whig point of view, not forgetting the Poet Laureate fur his preface and his other demerits. "I am just got to the pass where Saint Peter, hearing that the royal def met had opposed Catholic Emanci- pation, rises up and, interrupting Satan's oration, de- clares he will change places with Cerberus sooner than let him into heaven, while he has the keys thereof. " I must go and ride, though rather feverish and chilly. It is the ague season; hut the. allies do me rather good than harm. The feel after the Jit is as if one had got rid of one's bodv for good and all. "The gods go with you! — Address to Pisa. ■ Ever yours. "P.S. Since I came hack I feci better, though I stayed out too late fir this malaria season, under the thin cres- cent of a very youn^ moon, and got off my horse to walk in an avenue with a Signora for an hour I thought of you and 1 When at r*c thou rorrrt By the star thou lo*Mt.' Hut it was not in a romantic mood, as I should have been once; and yet it was a new woman, (that is, new to ni'%) and, of course, expected to be made love to. But I merely made a few commonplace speeches. I fee 1 as your poor friend Cumin said, before his death,' a mountain of lead upon my heart,' which I believe to ho *8v«Don Juan, Canto IT. StamaS. LETTERS, 1821. 191 constitutional, and that nothing will remove il bul thv same remedy. 11 LETTER DXXIX. TO MR. MOORE. October 6, 1821. "By this post I have sent my nightmare to balance the incubus of Southey's impudent anticipation of the Apo- of George the Third. I should like you to take a l>iok over it, as I think there are two or three tilings in it which might please 'our puir hill fjlk.' u By the last two or three posts I have written to you at length. My ague bows to me every two or three days, but v. e are not as yet upon intimate speaking terms. . I have an intermittent generally every two years, when the climate is favourable, (as it is here,) but it does me no harm. What I rind worse, and cannnot get rid ofj is the growing depression of my spirits, without sufficient cause. 1 ride — I am not intemperate in eating or drinking — and my general health is as usual, except a slight ague, which rather does good than not. It must be constitutional ; for I know nothing more than usual to depress uie to that " How do you manage ? I think you told me, at Ve- nice, that your spirits did not keep up without a little claret. I ran drink and bear a g<--od deal of wine, (as you may recollect in England ;) but it don't exhilarate — it makes me savage and suspicion?, and even quarrel- some. Laudanum has a similar effect ; but I can take much of if without any effect at all. The thing that gives me the highest spirits (it seems absurd, but true) is B dose o( salts — I moan in the afternoon, after their effect. But one can't take I'tem like champagne. ° Excuse this old woman's letter ; but my UtnanrJuAy don't depend upon health, for it is just the same, well or ill, or here or there. " Yours, &c." LETTER DXXX. TO MR. MURRAY. "Ravenna, October 9, 1821. "You will please to present or convey the ei ed poem to Mr. IVIoore. I sent him anotlior copy to Paris; tilt he has probably left that city. "Don't forget to send me my first act of '"Werner* (if Hobhouse can find it among my papers) — send it by the post to (Pisa;) and also cut out Sopliia Lee's 'German's Tale' from the 'Canterbury Tales,' and send it in a letter also. I began that tragedy in \h\b. * By- 1 he-way, you have a good deal of my prose tracts in MS. J Let me have proofs of them all again — I mean ihe controversial ones, including the last two or three years of time. Another question! — The Episile of Si. Paul, which I translated from the Armenian, for what leason have you kept it back, though you published that fulT which gave rise to the 'Vampire? 1 Is it because you are afraid to print any thing in opposition to the cant uf the Quarterly about Manicheism? Let me have a proof of that Episile directly. 1 am a better I than those parsons of vours, though not ]»aid for Lt-uig &o. "Send — Fahf-r's Treatise on the Cabiri. 'Sainte Or-.i\'< Mysterea t^u Paganisine, (scarce, per- haps, but to be found, as Mitferd refers to his work fre- quently.) "A common Bible, of good legible print, (bound in rus- sia.) I have one; but as it was the last gift of my sister, (whom I shall probably never see again,) I can only use it carefully, and less frequently, because I like to keep it in good order. Don't forget thi«, for I am a great reader and admirer of those books, and had read them through and through before I was eight years old, — thai is to say, the Old Testament, for the New struck men as a task but the other as a pleasure. I speak as a boy from the r*> collected impression of that period at Aberdeen in 17S6 "Any novels of Scott, or poetry of the same. Ditto cf Crabbe, Moore, and the Elect; but none of your cursed commonplace trash, — unless something starts up of actual merir, which may very well be, for 'tis lime it should " LETTER DXXXI. TO MR. MURRAY. "October 20, 1821. " If the errors are in the MS. write me down an ass . they are not, and I am content to undergo any penalty if they be. Besides, the omitted stanza, (last bul one or two,) sent qjlerward, was that in the MS. too ? u As to ' honour,' I will trust no man's honour in affairs of barter. I will tell you why: a state of bargain *s Hobbes's 'state of nature — a state of war.' It is so w.th all men. If I come to a friend, and sav, 'Friend, lend me five hundred po;ind.-,' — he either does it, or says that he can't or won't; bul if I come to ditto, and say, 'Ditto, I have an excellent house, or horse, or carriage, or AISS. t yet received them, nor the proofs thereof, though promised by lasl post, " I see the way that he and his Quarterly people are ten ling — they want a row with me, anil they shall have it. I onlv regret that I am not in England for the notice; as, here, it is hardly fair ground for me, isolated and out of the way of prompt rejoinder and information, as I am. But, though barked by all the corruption, and infamy, and patronage of their master rogues and slave renegadoes, if (hey do once rouse me up, 'They had better gall the devil, Salisbury.' "I have that for two or three of them, which they had* better not move me to put in motion ; — and yet, after all, what a fool I am to disquiet myself about such fellows ! It was all very well ten or twelve years ago, when 1 was a ' curled darling, 1 and mimh-d BUch things. At present, I rule them at their true value ; but, from natural temper and bile, am not able to keep quiet. " Let me hear from you on your return from Ireland, which ought to be ashamed to see you, after her Bruns- wick blarney. I am of Longman's o|miion, that you should allow your friends (o liquidate (he Bermuda claim. Why should you throw away the two thousand pounds (of the non-guinea Murray) upon that cursed piece of treacherous inveiglement? I think you carry the matter a hide too far am! scrupulously. When we see patriots begging publicly] and know that Graltan received a for- tune from his country, I really do not see why a man, in no whit inferior to any or all of them, should shrink from accepiing that assistance from his private friends, which every tradesman receives from his connexions upon much less occasions. For, after all, it was not your debt — it was a piece of swindling against you. As to * * * +, and the ' what noble creatures !' &c. &c. it is all very fine and verv well, but till you can persuade me that there is no rreht and n > <- ''- rpptauae to be obrained bv being of use to a celebrated man, I mu same opinion of the human species, which I do of our friend M 1 . Spt u ' LETTER DXXXIV. TO MR, MIRIi \ V. ■Pisa, November 3, 1821. "The Iwn passages cannot be altered without making Lucifer talk like the Bishop of Lincoln, which would not 1"- in the character of the former. The uoiiou is from Cuvier, (that of the old worlds,) as t have explained ID an additional note to the preface. The other passage is also in character: ifnonst rase, bo much the better, because then it can do no harm, and the sillier Satan is nude, the safer for every body. As to ' alarms,' &c. do you really think such things ever led any body astray? Are these people more impious than Milton's Satan? or the Pro- metheus of /Eschvlus .' or even than the Sadducees of Mitotan, the 'Fall of Jerusalem 1 * T .' Are nol Aoain, Eve, Adah, anl Abel, as pious as the catechism ? "Gilford is too wise b man to think that such things can have any senou« effect: who was ever altered by a poem ! I beg leave to observe, thai there is no creed nor personal hypothesis of mine in all this; but I was obliged to make Cam and Lucifer talk consistently, and surely this has always been permitted to poesy. Cain is a proud man: if Lucifer promised him kingdom, &c. it would elate him: the object of the Demon is to depress him still farther in his own estimation than he was before, by showing him infinite things, and his own abasement, till he falls into the frame of mind that hails to the catastrophe, from mere internal irritation, nol premeditation, or envy of AbeL (which would have made him contemptible,) but from rage and fury against the inadequacy of his State to his ceptions, and which discharges itself rather b life, and the Author of life, than the mere living. " His subsequent remorse is the natural effect of looking on his sudden deed. Had the deed been j>rc meditated ', his repentance would have been tardier. Either dedicate it to Walter Scott, or, if you think he would like the dedication of 'the Foscaris' better, put the Indication to ' the Foscaris. 1 Ask him which. "Your first note was queer enough ; but your two other letters, with Moore's and Giffbrd 's opinions, set all right again. I told you before that I can never recast any thin?. 1 am like the tiger : if I miss the first spring, I go grumbling back to my jungle again ; but if I d<> hit, it is crushing. * * You disparaged die last three cantos to me, and kept (hem back above a year; but I have heard from England (hat (notwithstandingthe errors of the press,) they are well thought of; Rw instance, by Ameri can Irving, which lasl is a feather in my (fodPs) cap. "You have received mv letter (open) through Mr. Kinnaird. and so, prav. send me no more reviews of any kind. 1 will read no more of evil or good in that line Walter Scott has nol read a review of himself t\>r tiur- ti,n tjeart. "The bust is not my property, but Hoi 'house's. I addressed it to you as an Admiralty man, great at the custom-house. Pray deduct the expenses of the same, and all others. " Yours, &c '* LETTER DXXXV. TO MR. MURRAY. "Pisa, Nov. 9, 1821. "I never rend the Memoirs at all, nol even since thev were written ; and I never will : the pain of writing them was enough ; you may spare me (hat of a perusal. Mr. Moore has (or may have) a discretionary power to omit LETTERS, 1821. 193 any repetition, or expressions which do not seem good to 1 Mm, who is a better judge than you or I. "Enclosed is a lyrical drama, (entitled 'a Mystery, from us subject,) which, perhaps, may arrive in time for ..■ You will find U pious enough, I trust— at least some of the Chorus might have been written by is emhold and Hopkins themselves for thai, and perhaps . idy. As it is longer, and more lyrical and Greek than I intended al first,Ihave notdivided it into acts, but >iia I have sent Part First, as there is a suspen- sion of the action, which iv» either close there without prieiy, or be continued ma way that I have in view. 1 wish the first part to be published birfore the second, l„ cause, if il do n't succeed, it is better to stop Uiere than t. o on in a fruidess experiment. - 1 desire you to acknowledge the arrival of this packet bv return of post, u" you can conveniently, with a proof. " Your obedient, &c. "P. S. My wish is to have it published at the same time, and, d' possible, m the same volume, .villi the others, i ver the merits or demerits of these pieces may be, it will perhaps be allowed that each is of a differ- erif kind, and in a different style ; so lha\ including the prose and the Don Juans, &c I have at least sent you uaruJtf during the last yeai or two." LETTER DXXXVI. TO MR. MOORE. •Pisa, Nov. 16,1821. • There is here Mr. Taafe, an Irish genius, with whom we are acquainted. He hath written a really excellent Commentary on Dante, full of new and true information, and much ingenuity. But his verse is such as it haih pleased God to endue him withal. Nevertheless, he is so firmly persuaded of its equal excellence, that he won't divorce the Commentary from the traduction, as I ventured delicately to hint,— not having the fear of Ireland before mv eyes', and upon the presumption of having shotteri very well in his presence (with common pistols too, not with my Manton's) the day before. " But he is eager to publish all, and must be gratified, though the Reviewers will make him suffer more tortures than "there are in his original. Indeed, the Notes are well worth publication ; but he insists upon the translation for company, so that they will come out together, like Ladj C * * t chaperoning Miss * *. I read a letter of yours 10 him vesterdav, and he bei£S me to write to you ab ml his Poeshie. He is really a good fellow, apparently, and I dare sav that his verse is very good Irish. "Now, what shall we do for him? He says that he will risk pan of the expense with the publisher. He will never rest till he is published and abused— for he has a high opinion of himself— and I see nothing left but to gratify him so as to have him abused a- hide as possible; for I think it would kill him. You must write, then, to Jeffrey to beg him not to review him, and I will do the wine to Gifford, through Murray. Perhaps they might notice ihe Comment without touching the text. But I .! i thedogs — the textis too templing, * » * * » I have to thank you aeain, as I believe I did before, for vo tr opinion of 'Cain, 1 &c. "You are nstht to allow to setile the claim ; but I io not see why you should repay him out of your [ego v— U least not vet.' If you/eel about it, (as you are on such points,) pav him the interest now, and (he print i- pal when von are strong in cash ; or pay lurn by inslal menis; or pay him as I do my creditors — that is, not nil Uicy make me. «I address this to you at Paris, as you desire. Reply Boon, and believe me ever. &c. 25 P.S. What I wrote to you about low spirits is, how- ever, very true. At present, owing to the climate, &c. (I can walk down into my garden, and pluck my own oranges; and, by-lhe-way, have got a diarrhoea in consequence of indulging in this meridian luxury of proprietorship,) my spirits are much better. You seem to think that I could not have written the 'Vision,' &c. under the influence of low spirits ;— but I think there you err. A man's poetry is a distinct faculty, or Soul, and has no more to do with the every-day individual than the Inspiration with the Py ihoness when removed from her tripod." To Lord Byron. " Fromc, Somerset, Nov. 21, 1821. "my lord, " More than two years since, a lovely and beloved wife was taken from me, by lingering disease, after a very short union. She possessed unvarying gentleness and fortitude, and a piety so retiring as rarely to disclose itself in words, but so influential as to produce uniform benevolence of conduct. In the last hour of life, afier a farewell look on a lately born and only infant, for whom she had evinced inexpressible affection, her last whispers were, 'God's happiness! God's happiness!' Since the second anni- vei ir\ of her decease, I have read some papers which no one had seen during her life, and which contain her most secret thoughts. I am induced to communicate to yout lordship a passage from these papers, which, there is no doubt, refers to yourself; as I have more than once heard the writer mention your agility on the rocks at Hastings. " ' Oh, my God, I take encouragement from the assur- ance of thy Word, to pray to Thee in behalf of one for whom I have lately been much interested. May the person to whom I allude (and who is now, we fear, as much distinguished for his neglect of Thee as for the mi, ndent talents thou hast bestowed on him) be awakened to a sense of his own danger, and led to seek that peace of mind, in a proper sense of religion, which he has found this world's enjoyments unable to procure ! Do thou grant that his future example may be productive of far more extensive benefit than his past conduct and writinos have been of evil ; and may the Sun of righteous- ness, which, we trust, will, at some future period, arise on him, be bright in proportion to the darkness of those clouds which guilt has raised around him, and the balm which it bestows, healing and soothing in proportion to the keenness of that agony whick die punishment of his vices has inflicted on him! " May tnf hope that the sincerity of my own efforts for the attainment of holiness, and the approval of my own love to the great Author of religion, will render this prayer, and every other for the welfare of mankind, more effii acious.— Cheer me in the path of duty ;— but let me not forget, that, while we are permitted to in limate ourselves to exertion by every innocent motive, these ire but the lesser streams which may serve to rease the current, but which, deprived of the grand fountain of good, (a deep conviction of inborn sin, and linn belief iii the efficacy of Christ's death for the salva- tion of those who trust in him, and really wish to serve him,) would soon dry up, and leave us barren of every virtue as before. "'July 31st, 1814. "' Hastings.' " . " There is nothing, mv lord, in this extract, which, in a literary sense, can nl ail interest you ; but it may, per- haps, appear to you worthy of reflection how deep and expansive a concern for the happiness of others tho Christian faith can awaken in the midst of youth and prosperity. Here is nothing poetical and splendid, as in Ihe expOBtillaWry homage of M. Delamartine ? but here is the tublime, mv lord ; f.r this intercession was offered, on your account, to the supreme Source of happiness. It sprang from a faith more confirmed than that of the French poet, and from a charily which, in combination 194 LETTERS, 1821. Willi faith, showed its power unimpaired amid the lan- guors and pains of approaching dissolution. I WlD hope that a prayer, which, I am sure, was deeply sincere, may not bo always unavailing. " It would add nothing) mv lord, to the fame with which your genius has surrounded you, I"t an unknown and obscure individual to express bis admiration of it. I had rather be numbered with those who wish and pray, that 'wisdom from above,' and 'peace,' and 'joy,' may enter such a mind. H Johzi Sum tard. 1 ' LETTER DXXXVII. TO MA. SIIEPI'ARP. Pisa, December 8, 1821. R SIR, B 1 have received your Letter. I need not say, that the extract which it contains has affected me, because it would imply a want of all feeling to have read it with indhTerence. Though I am not quite sure that it was intended by the writer for me, yet the date, the place where it was written, with some i.ihci- cireuiiistances that you mention, render the ailusiiiii probable. Urn for whomever it was meant, 1 have read it « ith all the pleasure which can arise from so melancholy a topic. I say pleasure — because your brief and Simple picture of the life and demeanour of the ex- cellent person whom I trust you will again meet, cannot be contemplated without tin admiration due to her virtues and her pure and unpretending piety. Her last moments were particularly striking; and I do not know that, in the course of res lirJg the story of mankind, and still less in my observation-- upon the existing portion, I ever met with any thing bo unostentatiously beautiful. Indisputably, the firm believers in the Gospel have a great advantage over all others, — for tins simple reason, that, if true, they will have their reward hereafter; and if the no be no here- after, they can be but with the infidel in his eternal sleep, having had the assistance of an exalted hope] through lit" , without subsequent disappointment, since (at the worst for them) 'out of nothing, nothing can arise,' not even sorrow. But a man's creed does not depend upon hx,iis,!f: who can say, I mil believe this, that, or the other? and] least of all, that which he least can comprehend. I havej however, observed, that those who have begun life with extreme &ith, have in the end greatly narrowed it. as Chillingworth, Clarke, (who ended as an Arian,) Bayle, and Gibbon] (once a Catholic,) and some others; while, on the othor hand, nothing is more common than for the early skeptic to end in a firm belief, like Alaupertuis and Henry Kirs White. " But my business is to acknowledge your letter, and not to make a dissertation. I am obliged to you for your good wishes, and nior*" than obliged by the extract from tin papers of the bet*,, m rjbject whose qualities you have bo will described in a few words. I can assure you, thai all the fame which ever cheated humanity into higher no- tions of its own importance would never weigh UQ mv mind against the pure and pious interest which s virtuous being may he pleased to tako in my welfare . In this point of view, I would not exchange the prayer of Ihe dec< ased in my behalf for the united glory of Homer, Ca3sar, and Na- poleon, could such be accumulated upon a living head. Do me at least the justice to suppo.se, that ' Video mi li. nil proboque,* however the ' deteriora sequor,' may have been applied to iny conduct. " I have the honour to be "your obliged and obedient servant, " Bvno.v. *P. S. I do not know that lam addressing a clergy- man ; but I presume that von will not be affronted bv the \ mistake (if it i a one) on the address of this letter. One I who has so well explained, and deeply felt the docinnes of religion, will excuse the error which led me to belie vr rum its minister. 11 LETTER DXXXVIII. TO MR. MURRAY. Pisa, December 4, 1821. "By extracts in the English papers, — in your boh ally Galignanis 'Messenger, 1 — I perceive that 'the two great- est examples of human vanity in the present age' are firstly, ' the ex-emperor Napolet m, 1 and, secondly,' his lord- ship, &C. the noble poet,' meaning your humble servant, 1 j r guiltless I.' R Poor Napoleon! he little dreamed to what vile com parisons (he turn of the wheel would reduce him ! a I have got here into a famous old feudal palazzo, on the Arno, large enough for a garrison, with d u ngeons he- low and cells in the walls, and so full of ghosts iliat the learned Fletcher (my valet) has begged leave to change his room, and then refused to occupy his new room, be- cause there were more ghosts dure than in the other. It is rjuitr true tha> then- ar st t xtraordinary noises, (as in all old buildings.) which have terrified the servants SO as to incommode me extremely. There is one place where people were evidently [palled up, fur there i-; but one possible passage, broken through the wall, and than meant to be closed again upon the inmate. The In hi I to the Lanfranchi family, (the same mentioned by I in his dream, as his persecutor with Sismondi,) and has had a fierce owner or two in it.s time. The staircase, &c. is said to have been built by Michel Agnolo. It is not yet cold enough for a lire. "What a climate ! "I am, however, bothered about these spectres, (as they say the last occupants "ere, too,) of whom I have seen nothing, nor, indeed, heard {myself) j but ears have been regaled by all kinds of supernatural The first nighi I thought I heard an odd noise, but it has not been repeated. I have now been lure more than a month. u Yours, &c° LETTER DXXXtX TO MR. MURRAV. 8 Pisa, December 10, 1821 K This day and this hour, (one, on the c'ock,) mv daugh- ter is six years old. I wonder when I shall see her again, or if ever 1 shall see her at all. u I have remarked a curious coincidence,* which almost looks like a fatality. "My mother^ myuifa my daughter, my half-sistn, my six(,rs /riufhtr, my jiiiUtrul dasUjAfsr, (as far at lefl am concerned,) and nn/sef/jare all only cfttt 1 My father, by his firsl marriage with Lad) < lonyers, (an only child,) had only my BtSter; and by his second mar- riage with an only child, an only child again. Lady Byron, as you know, was "in- a Im>, and so is my daughter, &e. Is not this rather rnkl — such a complication of only ' By- the- way, send me my daughter Ada's miniature. I have only the print, which gives little or DO idea of her complexion. "Yours, &c. "B.' LETTER DXL. TO MR. MOORE. "Pisa, December 1 2, 1821. "What you say about Galignani's two biographies ts very amusing ; and, if I were not lazy, I would certainlv * See Memorandum*, page -61. LETTERS, 1821. 195 do what you desire. But I doubt my present stock of Guetiousness — that is, of good serious humour, so as not to let the eat out of the bag.* I wish you would under- take it. I nil; ihrtnve and indulge you (like a pope) before- han I. few any thing ludicrous, that might keep those fools iu i leir own dear belief that a man is a loup sarou. u l suppose [told vou that the Giaour story had actuallv mndation on facts ; or, if I did not, you will one day 11 a letter of Lord Slip's, written to me after the publication of the poem. I should not like marvels to rest upon any account of my own, and shall say nothing about it. However, the real incident is still remote enough from the poetical one, being just such as, happening to a man of any imagination, might suggest such a composiiion. ■ >r>t of aiivrfo/ adventures is that they involve living people— -else Mrs. 's 's,&e. areas'german to the matter 1 as Mr. Maturin could desire fur his novels. ***** ■ The consuimnationyou mentioned for poor Taafe was nf-ar taking place yesterday. Riding pretty sharply after Mr. Medwin and rayselfj in turning the corner of a lane between Pisa and the hills, he was spilt, — and, besides some claret on the spot, bruised himself a good deal, i qo danger. He was bled, and keeps his room. As I was a-ht-ad of him some hundred yards, I did not see the accident ; but my servant, who was behind, did. and, says the horse did not fall — the usual excuse of floored equestrians. As Taafe piques himself upon his horse- ip, and his horse is really a pretty horse enough, I long for his personal narrative, — as I never yet met the man who would fairly claim a tumble as his own property u Could not. you send me a printed copy of the 'Irish Avatar T — I do not know what has become of Rogers since we parted at Florence. u Do n't let the Angles keep you from writing. Sam told me that you were somewhat dissipated in Paris, which I can easily believe. Let me hear from you at your best leisure. " Ever and truly, &c. "P.S. December 13. a I enclose you some lines, writtea not long ago, which you may do what you like with, as they are very harm- Only, if copied} or printed, or set, I could wish it > .rreetly than in the usual way, in which one's 'nothings are monstered,' as Coiiolanus says. •■ Y iu must really get Taafe published — he never will reel nil he is so. He is just gone with his broken head to Luccea, at my desire, to try to save a man. from being bund. The Spanish * * *, that has her petticoats over had actually condemned a poor devil to the stake, out of a church. Sheilcy and I, of course, were up in arms against this piece of piety, and have been disturbing every body to get the scnteiu e chanced. Taafe is gone to see what can be done. ° " IT " strance, is of course out of the question ; but I do not see why a temperate remonstrance should hurt any one. Lord I ruilrord is the man, if hewouM undertake it. He knows the Grand Duke personally, and might, perhaps, prevail upon him )• interfere, But, as he goes to-morrow, you must be quick or it will be useless. Make any use of my name that you please. " Yours ever, &c." LETTER DXLII. TO MR. MOORE. LETTER DXLI. TO MR. SHELLEY. "December 12, 1521. *MV TiKVR SHEM.F.V, "Enclosed is a note lor you fr>m . His reasons ore ;ill Tery true, T dare say, and it mi^ht and may be of p -rsiiKi! inconvvm.-nc,' to us. Rut that does not appear m Im- a rvn ;on to allow a being to be burnt without trying to save him. To save him by any means but remortr * Mi . Galignani fwwing expressed ^ with t" be furnished with a short i ir ihe purpose of prefixing it lo the Fr.r.rli 1 | ' n_-!y in & preceding letter lo his lord- lie dissosmoo of the world i« i ' urc*." if he would wrile for Ihe [>ublic, Kngtish aa well 1 ' rig, inhorrori »nd wondem, all th«l hndlieen ret rein- ! ir d! mm ! nflum, utid leaTiiig •▼enGoettic'i itory of i lie djuble murder at Florence far behind. t Slanxaa written o.i tho road between Florence and Pisa, page 487. " T send you the two notes, which will tell you the story I allude to of the Auto da Fe. Shelley's allusion to his 1 f,-llow-srrpent ' is a buffoonery of mine. Goethe's Mqihistotilus calls the serpent who tempted Eve 'my aunt, the renowned snake ;' and I always insist that Shelley is nothing but one of her nephews, walking about on the tip of his tail." To L/jrd Byron. w 2 o'clock, Tuesday Morning. K MV DEAR LORD, u Although strongly persuaded that the story must bo either an entire fabrication, or so gross an exaggeration as to be nearly so; yet, in order to be able to discover the truth beyond all doubt, and to set your mind quite at rest, I have taken the determination to go myself to Lucca this morning. Should it prove less false than I am con- vinced it is, I shall not fail to exert myself in every vmy that I can imagine may have any success. Be assured of this. " Your lordship's most truly, «* + p " P. S. To prevent bavardage^ I prefer going in person to sending my servant with a letter. It is better for you to mention nothing (except, of course, to Shelley) of my excursion. The person I visit there is one on whom I can have every dependence in every way, both as to au- thority and truth. To Lnrd Byron. " Thursday Morning U MV PEAR LORD BYR.OV, "I hear this morning that the design, which certainly had been in contemplation, of burning my fellow-serpent, has been abandoned, and that he has been condemned lo the galleys. Lord Guilford isatLeghorn; and as v our courier applied to me to know whether he ought, to ieave your letter f >r him or not, I have thought it best since this information to tell him to take it back. " Ever faithfully yours, "P. B. Shellev. LETTER DXLIIT. TO SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART. « Pisa, January 12,1822- "MV DEAR SIR WALTER, K I need not say how grateful I am for your letter, but I must own my ingratitude in not having written to you again long ago. Since I left England, (and it is not for ail the usual term of transportation,) I have scribbled to five hundred blockheads on business, &c. without difficul- ty, though willi no great pleasure; and yet, with the no- tion of addressing you a hundred times, in my head, and always in my heart^ I have not done what I ought to have done. I can only account for it on die same principle of tremulous anxiety with which one sometimes makes love to a beautiful woman of our own degree, with whom one is enamoured in good earnest; whereas, we attack a fresh- coloured housemaid without (I speak, of course, of earlier 196 LETTERS, 182J. tunes) any BemimeBtal remoree or mitigation of our vir- tuous purpose, . f ■I owe to you for more than the usual obligation for the courtesies of literature and common friendship, for yi u went om of your way in 1817 to do me a sernee, wham required not merely kindness, but courage to do -■■: to have I- n recorded by you in such a manner would have been a proud manorial al any , bul al snchatimc when 'all the world ..".I his wife,' as the prov. werelryir«totrninpleupcnme,was8omething i lomyeelf-esteemr-I allude to iKeauarterlj Reviey, ol the Third Canto ofChilde Harold, which Mumg told me was written by you,-and, indeed, I should have known Kwithoul his information, as there could not "fcsowho couU and wouid have done this al motnne. Ha I tl l» n a common criucism, however eloquent or i«»r»'" ' should have felt pleased, undoubtedly, and grateful, bul not to the extent which the extraordinary goooMiearteu- ness of the whole proceeding must induce in any nund capable uf such sensations. The very unaneH "I Una acknowledgment will, al least, show thai 1 have nol for- gotten the obligation; and Icanassun youth* of ,t has been out at compoimd interest during the delay. IshaUonly add word upon the subject, winch i ,tnai [think that von, and Jeffrey, and Leigh Hunt, were the only literary men, of numbers whom 1 know, (and some ot whom I haw served,) who dared venture even an anony- mous word in ,nv favour just then ; and that of those three, 1 had never seen on. at all— of the second much less than I I .,re.l— and that die thud was under no kind "I obh- , to mc whatever; while the olher two had been ao- tually attacked by me on a former occasion; oiu indi ed, with some provocation, but the other wantonlj ■ -'•• s , iron see von have been heaping 'coals ot lire, &i in Gospel manner, and I can assure you U.at they have burnt down to my very heart. -1 am glad that von accepted the Inscription. I mean! to have inscribed 'the Foscarini' lo you instead; bul firs,, I heard thai 'Cain' was thought the least had ol the two as a composition; and, 2dly, 1 have abused Southey like a pickpocket, in a note to the Foscarini, and 1 rei ol- tected thai he is a friend of yours, (thougl I ol i ■.) and that it would not be the handsome thing lo dedicate I re friend any thing containing such matters about another. However, I '11 work the Laureate before 1 have done with him, as soon aslcan muster Billingsgate there- for. I likearow, and always did from a boy, in the course of which propensity, Imusl needs say, that t have found it the most easy of all to be gratified, personal!} andpoeli- callv. You disclaim 'jealousies;' but I would ask, as Boswell did of Johnson, 'ofiotom oouW you be jealous,— of none of the living, certainly, and (taking all and all into consideration) of which of the dead? I don't like to bore you about the Scotch novels, (as they call them, though two of them are wholly English, and the rest half so,) but nothing can or could evi r persuade , sh* e I was the hrsi ten mm. nes in your company, that you arc juf the man To mo those novels have so much ol 'Auldlang syne, (I was bred a canny Scot till ten years old,) thai I never move without Ihem; and when 1 removed from Ravenna to Pisa, the other day, and samon my library before, they were the only books mat I kepi by me, al- though I already have them by heart. ■ January 87, 1822. « I delayed till now concluding, in die hope that I should have "oi 'ile Pirate,' who b now under way lor me, bul hasnol \oi hove in sight. [ hear that your daughter is married, and I suppose by this tune you are hall ■ grand- father— a young one, by-the-way. I have heard great things of Mrs. LocWnwts personal and mental charms, and mui ligood of her lord: thai you may live to see as many novel Scotts as there are Scots' novels, is tire very had iml', bul sincere wish of " Yours ever most affectionately, &c «P S Why do n'i yon take a turn in Italy .' Yoo , d'find your* If as well known and as wefaaaa u ... mdsai ig the natives. As for the English, vou would be with thi ... as in London; and I need not add, ihat I should be delighted to see you again, which a Bu more than I shall ever feel or say for England,." (w„h , few excepti ma •ol'Uh.k..,, and allies') any thug thai it contain. Bul my 'lean warms to the iar.au, ot ,,„„., „f Scotland, which reminds n 1 Aberdeen and other nans, not s., far from the Highlands* as thai town, abOUl Iuvereailld and Bra. -mar, "here 1 was BOW l"drUlk ,,.. ,, ,,, in 1795.6, in consequence ol a Ihreal. n , ,.„ jcrlei fever. Bul I am gossiping ; so, good night— and the gods he with your dr. , ,„ ,„ v respects to Lad;. Sett, who may perhaps recoUecl having se w in town m 1816. « [ ne that one of your supporters (tor, fake sir Hilde- brand, I am fond ofl hnllin) is a mermaid, » « my en* too, and with precisi une curt ol tad. 1 here , ,,„,,„,,,„„, fo, you '-Jam building a little .utter at i go a-crukdng in the summer. I knew j,uu Urn the sea too." LETTER PXI.IV. TO DOUGLAS KINNA1KD. ■•Pisa, February, 6, 1822. -'Try back the deep lane,' till we find a publisl 'the Vision;' and if none such is to be found, print fifty copies at my expense, distribute Iht ma gmy acquaint- ance, and you «.n s i see thai the booksellers natlpub- :,.., them, even .1 we oppose them. That they are now afraid is natural; but I do nol seethal 1 ought logweway count. I Imownothing of Rivingtons ■Remon- strance' by the 'eminenl t 'hotel. ...an;' bul I suit i wants a living. I once heard of a preacher at B Town against '('am.' The same outcry was raised against Priestley, Hume. Gibbon, Voltaire, and all the tne.i who dared io put tithes to the question. "thavi tSouthey'S pretended reply,'™ which lam surprised thai vou do not allude. What remains to be do,,.- is, to call him out. The question is, would Ire comef for, if he would n it, the whole thing world appear ridicu- lous, if] were to lake a long and expensive journey lo no purpose. « You must be my second, and, as such, I wish to con- sult vou. ■I apply to vou as one well versed m the duello, or monomachie. I rfcoursi I shall come to England as pri- vately as possible, and leave it (supposing that I was the survivor) in the same manner; having no olher object which could bring me to thai country except to settle quarrels accumulated during my absence. ■By the last post I transmitted to | «t ■ letter upon some Rochdale toll business, from which then are moneys in prospect. My agenl lays fcootl an I pounds,bul sup- I ',. to be only om hundred, still 11 neys; and 1 have lived lor, ci fir the smallest curri nt coin of any realm, or Ih, I. isl sum, which, although I may nol want it myself, may i 9 idling for others who may need it more than I. •They say that 'Kriowli ge is Power;' — I used to think so; bul I now know that they meant 'money:' and when Socrates declared, 'that all he knew was, that ho knew nothing, 1 he merely intended lo declare, that he had not s drachm in me Athenian world. " The eirrulart are arrived, and circulating like the vor- ticas (or vortexes) of Descartes, still I have a due euro ofihe needful, and keep a look out a-head, as mj notions upon the score of moneys coincide with yours, and with all men's who have lived to see that every gum. philosopher's stone, or al least his Im/cA-slone. You will • Sou Nolo lo " Tut Ulnjd. - ' LETTERS, 1822. 197 doubt me the less, when I pronounce my firm belief] that Cash is Virtue. "I cannot reproach myself with much expenditure: my only extra expense (and it is more than I have spent upon myself] being a i tan of two hundred and fifty pounds tc Hunt; and fifty pounds' worth of furniture which I have b Jii^'hi fin' him ; and a boat which I am building for myself at Genoa, which will cost about a hundred pounds more. "But to return. I am determined 10 have all the mo- neys 1 can, whether by my own funds, or succession, or lawsuit, or .MSS., or any lawful means wlia- V'-r. " I will pay (though .with the sinceresl reluctance) my remaining creditors, and every man of law, by instalments from the award of the arbitrators. " I recommend to you the notice in Mr. Hanson's letter, on the demand of moneys for the Rochdale tolls. " Above all, I recommend my interests to your honoura- ble worship. "Recollect, too, that I expect some moneys for the various MSS., (no matter what;) and, in short, 'Rem, quocunque modo, Rem!' — >the noble feeling of cupidity grows upon us with our years. "Yours ever, &c." LETTER DXLV. TO MR. MURRAV. "Pisa, Feb. 8, 1822. K Attacks upon me were to be expected, hut I perceive one upon you in the papers, which I confess that I did not expect. How, or in what manner,you can be considered resposdble for what / publish, I am at a loss to conceive. ■ If'Cain' be ( blasphemous,' Paradise Lost is blasphe- mous ; and the very words of the Oxford gentleman,' Evil, be thou my good,' are from that very poem, from the mouth of Satan; and is there any thing more in that of Lunfrr m the My-tery? Cain is nothing more than a h-ama, not apiece of argument. If Lucifer and Cain speak as the first murderer and the first rebel mav be supposed to speak, surely all the rest of the personages talk also according to their characters — and the strong *r is have ever been permitted to the drama. K I have evt-n avoided introducing the Deity as in Scrip- ture, (though Milton does, and not verv wisely either,") but have adopted his tngel as sent to Cain instead, on purpose to avoid shocking any feelings on the subject by failing short of what all uninspired men must fall short in, viz. giving an adequate notion of the effect of the presence of Jehovah. The old Mysteries introduced him liberally enough, and all this is avoided in the new one. "Tlie attempt to built/ you, because they think it won't succeed with nv, seems to me as atrocious an attempt as ever disgraced the times. What ! when Gibbon's, Hume's, Priestley's, and Drummond's publishers have been allowed to real in peace fjr seventy years, are you to be singled mt Cor a work of Jfcrion, not of history or argument? There must be something at the holism of this — some private enemy of your own: it is otherwise incredible. "lean only say, 'Me, me; en adsum qui feci;* — thai any proceedings directed against you, I beg, mav be trans- ferred to me, who am willing, and ought, to endure them all ; thai if you have lost money by the publication, I will refund any or all of the copyright ; that I desire vou will say that both you and TV/r. Giffhrd remonstrated against the publication] as also Mr. Hobhonse ; that /alone oc- casioned i', and I alone am the person who, either legally or otherwise, should bear the burden. If they prosecute, 1 will come to England — that is, ifj by meeting it in mv own person, I can save yours. Let me know. You sha 1 n'r suffer fur me, if I can help it. Make any use of this letter you please. u Your* ever, &c." "P. S. I write to you about all this row of bad passion' and absurdities, with lli* rammer moon (for here our win- ter is clearer than your dog-days) lighting the winding Amo, with all her buildings and bridges, — so quiet and still !— -What nothings are we before the least of thesa stars I" LETTER DXLVI. TO MR. MOORE. "Pisa, Feb. 19, 1S22. "I am rather surprised not to have bad an answer to ny letter and packets. Lady Noel is dead, and it is not mpossible that I may have to go to England to settle the division of the Wentworth property, and what portion Lady B. is lo have out uf it ; all which was left undecided by the articles of separation. But I hope not, if it can be done, without, — and I have written to Sir Francis Burdell to be my refeiee, as he knows the property. " Continue io address here, as I shall not go if I can avoid it — at least, not on that account. But I may on another; for I wrote to Douglas Kmnaird to convev a message of invitation to Mr. Southey to meet me, either in England, or (as less liable to inierruptioii) on the coast of France. Tins was about a fortnight ago, and 1 have not yet had time to have the answer. However, you shall have due notice ; there ftre continue to address to Pisa. K My agents and trustees have written to me todesire that I would take the name directly, so that I am yours very truly and affectionately, "Noel Byron. "P. S. I have had no news from England except on business ; and merely know, from some abuse in that faithful ex and f/e-trador, Galignani, that the clergy are up against 'Cain.' There is (if I am not mistaken) some good church preferment on the Wentworth estates ; and I will show them what a good Christian I am by patronis- ing and preferring the most pious of their order, should opportunity occur. "M. and I are but little in correspondence, and I know nothing of literary matters at present. I have been wri- ting on business only lately. What are you about ? Bo assured that there is no such coalition as you apprehend.'' LETTER DXLVII. TO MR. MOORE. "Pisa, Feb. 20, 1822.* "Your letter arrived since I wrote the enclosed. It is not likely, as I have appointed agents and arbitrators fir the Noel estates, that I should proceed to England on that account, — though I may upon another, within stated. At any rate, continue you to address here till you heai further from me. I could wish you still to arrange for me, either with a London or Parts publisher, for the things^ &c. I shall nor quarrel with any arrangement you may please to make. "I have appointed Sir Francis Burdctt my arbitrator to decide on Lady Byron's allowance out of the Noel estates, which are estimated at seven thousand a-ycar, and rents very well paid, — a rare thing at this time. It is, however, owing to their consisting chiefly in pasture !ands, and therefore less affected by corn bills, Sic. than properties in tillage. "Believe me yours ever most affectionately, "Noel Bvhow. u Between my own property in the funds, and mv wife^ in land, I do not know which side to cry out on in politics. "There is nothing against the immortality of the soul in 'Cain' that I recollect. I hold no such opinions;— but, in a drama, the first rebel and the first'murderer must he made to lalk accoidiiu: to their characters. However, * Tin- pracedtuf kucr emu m- i ..id In u-i*. 199 llle parsons are all preaching at il, from Kentish Town end Oxford to Pisa;— the scoundrels of priests, who do mori harmto religion dianall the infidels that ever forgot tho'u catechism 1 •'I have not seen Lady Noel's death announced in Galuniani. — How is that.'" LETTERS, 1522. LETTER DXI.VIII. TO MK MOOKE. "Pisa, Feb. 28, 1822. ■ 1 begin to think that the packet (a heavy cue) of five acts of 1 Werner,' &c. ran hardly have reached you, for nun letter of last week (which I answered) did not al- I,,,!, to it, and yet I ensured it at the postofEce here. *• I have no direct news from England, except on the Noel business, which is proceeding quietly, as I have ap- pointed a gentleman (Sir !•'. Burden) for my arhitraior. They, too, have said that theywill recall the lawyer whom r ',, : ;, i chosen, and will name a gentleman too. Tins is better, as the arrangemenl of die estates and of La I) H.'s allowance will thus I"' settled without quibbling. I\lv lawyers are taking out a license for ihe name and arms, which it seems I am to endue. another, and indirect quarter,! hear that 'Cain' I,!, been pirated, and that the Chancellor has refused to give Murray any redress. Also, that G. R.* (.your friend 'Ben,') has expressed great personal indignation at the said poem. All this is curious enough, L think, — after allowing Priestly, Hume, and Gibbon, and Bolinghroke, and Voltaire In be published, without depriving ihe 1 k- sellers of their rights. 1 heard from Rome a day or two ago, and, with what truth I know not, lhat * * * . • Yours, fee 11 LETTER DXI.IX. TO MR. MOORE. •Pisa, March 1,1882. " As r still have no news of my ' Werner,' &c. packet, sent to von on the 29lh of January, I continue to bore you, (for ihe fifth time, I believe,) to know whether " baa not miscarried. As it was fairly Copied ouf, it will be vex- atious ifil be lost. Indeed, I ensured it at the postoffice to make them take more care, and directed it regularly to you at Paris. ■ In ihe impartial Galignani I perceive an extracl from Blackwoodts Magazine, in whirl, it is said ihnt there are people who have discovered thai you and 1 are no poets. With regard to one of us, I know lhat this northwest to mv magnetic pole had been long discovered by some sages, and I leave them the foil benefit of their penetration. I think, as l iibbon says of bis 1 1 is i on, 'that, perhaps, a hundred years hence u may still conunue to be abused.' However. I am far from pretending pt ti or compare w ith lhat illustrious literary character. "Bui, with regard to yen, I thought that you had al- wavs been allowed to he a /"W, even by the stupid as well as the envious — a had one, to be sure — immoral, florid, Asiatic, and diabolically popular, — leu still always a poet, mm. eon. This discovery, therefore, has to me all the grace of novelty, as well as of consolation (according lo Rochefoucault) to hod myself no-poetized in such good company. I am content to 'err with Plato, and can assure you very sincerely, thai I would rather !»■ received a non-poet with you, than be crowned Willi all toe hays of (the yet-uncrowned) I.akersni their society. I believe you think heller of those worthies than 1 do. I know die,,, ***** " As for Southey, the answer to my proposition of a •The Kmj. meeting is not yet come. I sent the message, with a short note, to him through Douglas Kinnaird, and Dou- glas's response is not arrived. If he accents, I shall have to go to England ; but if not, 1 do not think the Noel affairs will lake me there, as the arbitrators can settlo them w ithout my presence, and there do not seem to be any difficulties. The license lor die new name and ar- morial bearuigs will be taken out by the regular applica- tion, in such cases, to tire Crown, and sent to me. "1- llore a hope of seem:: you in I'alv again ever? What are vou doing '.'—torn/ by me, I know ; hut I have explained why before. I have no correspondence now with London, except through relations and law \ i one or Iwo friends. My greatest friend, Lord Clan, is at Rome : we met on the road, and our meeting was quite eniiimiiial — really pathetic on both sides. I have al- ways loved him better than any male thins in the world.' The preceding was enclosed in lhat which follows. LETTER DL. TO MR. MOORE. " Pisa, March 4, 1822. "Since I wtoIc the enclosed, I have waited anoiher post, and now have your answer acknowledging the arrival of ihe packet — a troublesome one, I fear, to you in more ways than one, both from weigh! external and internal. •The unpublished ihings in your hands, in Douglas K.'s, and Mr. John Murray's, are,' Heaven and I Ivri'-al kind of Drama ii| Ihe I l.lugc, &c. ;' — 'W'.-rn. r,' now with you; — a translation of Ihe first Canto of die Morganie Maggiore; — ditto of an Episode in Dante ; — some stanzas to ihe Po, June 1st, 1819 J— Hints from Horace, written in 1811, but a good deal, since, to bo omitted; — several prose things, which may, perhaps, as well remain unpublished; — 'The Vision, &c. of U Redivivus' m verse. "Here you see is'niore matter for a May morning;' but how much of this can be published is for con tion. The Cluevcdo (one of my best in thai line) has appalled the Row already, and must take ils chance al Paris, if al all. The new Mystery is less speculative than 'Cain,' and very pious; besides, it is chiclly lyrical The Morgante is the best translation lhat ever was or mil bo made ; and the rest are— whatever you please lo think them. " I am sorrv vou think Werner even approaching to any fitness lor Ihe stage, which, with my notion upon it, is very far from my present object. With regard to the publication, 1 have already explained that 1 have I hiiani expectations of either fame or profit in the present instances; hut. wish them published b mas they are written ; which is the common feeling of all scribblers. « Wei, respect to ■ Religion,' can 1 never convm that / have no such op, ,,,„.- , - the characters in thai drama, winch seems to have frightened everybody 1 Vol they arc nothing lo the expressions in Goethe's Faust, (which are leu limes hardier,) and not a whit more hold than those of Milton's Satan. My ideas of a character may run away with me: like all imaginative men, 1, of , se, imbody myself with the character while 1 oVou ii, hoi not a moment after ihe pen is from off the paper. "I am no enemy t" religion, but the contrary. Asa proof, I am educating mynaniraldaughterastrict I lalnohc in a convent of Romagna, for 1 think people can never have enough of religion, if they are to have any. I incline, myself, very much to the Catholic doctrines; but if 1 am to write a drama, I must make my characters speak as I conceive metO likely to arL'iie. " As to poor Shelley, who is another buohear to you and il,- world, he is, lo mv knowledge, the lead selfish and the uiildcsl of men — a man who has made more sacrifices ot'hi. fortune and feelings for others than any 1 ever heard LETTERS, 1822. 199 of./ With his speculative opinions I have nothing in com- mon, nor desire to have. "The truth i>, my dear Moore, you live near the stove of societv, where y<_m are unavoidably influenced by its heat and us vapours. I did so once— and too much — and enough to give a colour to my whole future existence. As in society was no* inconsiderable, I am surely not a prejudiced jud<*e upon the subject, unless in its favour; but 1 think it, as nowconstituted,/ataito all great original undertakings of every kind. I never courted it theii^ when I was young and high in blood, and one of its 'curled darlings ;' apd do you think I would do so now, when I am living in a clearer atmosphere? One thing only might Lend me back to it, and that is, to try- once more it" I could do any good in politics; but not in the petty politics I Bee now preying upon our miserable country. '• Du not let me be misunderstood, however. If you speak your own opinions, they ever had, and will have, the i \- i. lit with me. But if you merely echo the monde,' (and it is difficult not to do so, being in its favour and its ferment,) I can only regret that you should ever repeal any thing to which I cannot pay attention. ■ Hut I am prosing. The gods go with you, and as much immortality of all kinds as may suit your present and all other existence. 8 Yours, fee" LETTER DLL TO MR. MOORE. " Pisa, March 6, 1622. "The enclosed letter from Murray hath melted me; though I think it is against his own interest to wish that I should continue his connexion. You may, therefore, send him the packet of ' Werner,' which will save you all further trouble. And pray, can you forgive me for the bore and expense I have already put upon you ? At least, say so — f >r I feel ashamed of having given you so much for such nonsense. "The fact is, I cannot keep mv resentments, though vio- lent enough in their onset. Besides, now that all the world are at Murray on my account, I neither can nor ought to leave him ; unless, as 1 really thought, it were for him that I should. B I have had no other news from England, except a letter from Barry Cornwall, the bard, and my old school- fellow. Though I have sickened you with letters lately, ..- me "Your-, Sec. "P. S. In your last letter you say, speaking of Shelley, that von would almost prefer the 'damning bigot' to the 'annihilating infidel.' Shelley believes in immortality, however — but this bv-the-way. Do you remember Frederick the Great's answer to the remonstrance of the villagers whose curate preached against the eternity of hell's torments ? It was thus: — 'If my faithful si bj< i of Schrausenhaussen prefer being eternally damned, let mem !' "Of the two, I should think the long sleep better than the agonized vigj!. But men, miserable as they are, cling so to anv thing like life, that they probably would prefer damnation to quiet. Besides, they think themselves so important in the creation, that nothing less can Satisfy their pride — the insects I" LETTER DLII. TO MR. MURRAY. "Pisa, March 6, 1822. 8 You will long ago have received a letter from me, (or should,) declaring my opinion of the treatment you have met with about the recent publication. I think it dis- graceful to those who have persecuted you. I make peace with you, though our war was for other reasons than this same controversy. I have written to Moore bv this post to forward to you the tragedy of ' Werner." t shall not make or propose any present bargain about it or the new Mystery till we see if they succeed. If they don't sell, (which is not unlikely,) you sha' n't pay ; and I suppose this is fair play, if you choose to risk it. il Bartolini, the celebrated sculptor, wrote to me to desire to take my bust : I consented, on condition that he also took that of the Countess I ruicciou. He has taken both, and I think it will be allowed that hers is beautiful. I shall make you a present of them bo'h, to show that I >\->nt bear malice, and as a compensation fbr the trouble and squabble you had about Thorwaldsen's. Of my own I can hardly speak, except that it is thought very Uke what I now am, which is different from what I was, of course, since you saw me. The sculptor is a famous one; and as it was done by his mm particular request, will be done well, probably. "What is to be dune about Taafe and his Commen- tary? He will die, if he is not published; he will be damned if he ia; but that he do n't mind. We must pubbsh him. " All the row about me has no otherwise affected me than by the attack upon yourself, which is ungenerous in Church and State : but as all violence must in time have its proportionate reacUon, you will do better by-and-by. " Yours very truly, Noel Byron " LETTER DLIII. TO MR. MOORE. "Pisa, March 8, 1822. " You will have hed enough of my letters by this time- yet one word in answer to you' present missive. You are quite wrong in thinking that your 'advice* had offended me ; but I have already replied (if not answered) on that point. "With regard to Murray, as I really am the meekest and mildest of men since Moses, (though the public and mine ' excellent wife' cannot find it out,) I had already pacified myself and subsided back to Albemarle -street, as my yesterday's yepistle will have informed you. But I thought that I had explained my causes of bile — at least to you. " Some instances of vacillation, occasional neglect, and troublesome sincerity, real or imagined, are sufficient to put vour truly great author and man into a passion. But reflection, with some aid from hellebore, hath already cured me ' pro tempore ;' and, it it had not, a request from you and Hobhouse would have come upon me like two out of the ' tribus Antjcyris,' — with which, however, Horace despairs of purging a poet. I really fee' ashamed of having bored you so frequently and fully of late. But what could I do ? You are a friend — an absent one, alas ! — and as I trust no one more, I trouble you in pro- portion. 8 This war of 'Church and S'ate' has astonished me more than it disturbs ; for I really thought ' Cain' a specu- lative and hardv, but still a harmless production. As I said before, I am really a great admirer of tangible reli- gion ; and am breeding one of my daughters a Catholic, that she may have her hands full. It is by far die most elegant worship, hardly excepting the Greek mythology. What with incence, pictures, statues, altars, shrines, relics, and the real presence, confession, absolution, — there is something sensible to gTasp at. Besides, it leaves no possibility of doubt ; for those who swallow their Deitv, really and truly, in transubstanuation, can hardly find any thing else otherwise than easy of digestion. "I am afraid that this sounds flippant, but I do n\ mean it to be bo ; only my turn of mind in so given to taking 200 LETTERS, 1822. things in the absurd point of view, that it breaks out in spite of me every now and then. Still, I do as that I axn a v<:v good Christian. Whether you will believe me in this, I do not know ; but I trust you will take my word f >r being H Very truly and affectionately yours, &c. "P.S. Do tell Murray that one of the conditions of peace is, tliat he publisheth (or obtaineth a publisher for) Taaie's Commentary on Dante, against which there appears in tin- trade an unaccountable repugnance. It will make the man so exuberand) happy. He dines with iii' and half a dozen English to-day ; and I have not the hear) to tell him how the bibllopolar world shims from his Commentary ; — and yet it is full of the most orthodox religion and morality. In short, I make ii a point that he shall he in print. He is such a good-natured, hear) " " Christian, thai we must give him a shove through the press. He naturally thirsts to be an author, and has been the happiest of men for these two months, printing, cor- recting collating, dating, anticipating', and adding to his treasures of learning. Besides, lit* has had another fall from liis horse into a ditch the other day, while riding oul with me into the.country." LETTER DLIV. TO .MR. MURRAY. "Pisa, March 15,1822. "I am glad that you and your friends approve t,\~ my letter of the 8th ultimo. You may give it what publicity you think proper in the circumstances. I have since written to you twice or thrice. "As to' a Poem in the old war,' I shall attempt of that kind nothing further. I Pillow the bias of my own mind, will I considering whether women or men are or are not to be pleased: but this is nothing to my publisher, who must judge and act according to popularity. "Therefore let the things take their change: if thry pay, ynu will pay nie in proportion ; and if they do n't, I must. "The NoelaffhirSjI hope, will not take me to England. I have no desire to revisit that country, unless it be to keep ymi out of a prison, (if this can be effected by my taking your place,) or perhaps to get myself into one, hy exacting satisfaction from one or two persons who take advantage of my absence to abuse me. Further than this, I have no business nor connexion with England, nor dc.sire to have, out of my own family ami friends, in whom I wish all prosperity. Indeed, I have lived upon the whole so little in England, (about hve years since I was one-and-twenty,) that my habits are too continental, and votir climate would please me as little as the society. "I saw the Chancellor's Report in a French paper. Pray, why do n't they prosecute the translation of Lucrt- tiua? or the original with its ' Piimui In orbc De ■ Vi.ii in- ed not put your name to (Jtt't >■!>,, hill publish it ;i> a foreign edition, and let it make its way. Douglas Kn- naird has it still, with the preface, I believe. " I refer you to him tor documents on the late row here. I sent them a week ago. " Yours, fcc," LETTER DLVI. TO MR. MURRAY. "Pisa, April 18, 1822. "I have received the Defence of 'Cam.' Who is my Warburton I — for he has done for me what the rash lor the poet against Crousaz. His reply semis to IBS conclusive : and if you understood your own inten would print it together with the poem. ■ Ii is very odd that I do not hear from you. I have forward. -d to Mr. Douglas K aird tin- documents 0fl a squabble here, which occurred about a month a^o. The affair is still going on ; but they make nothing of it hitl*- erto. I think, w hat with home and abroad, there has been hot water enough for one while. Mr. Dawhrns, the English minister, has behaved in the handsomest and most gentlemanly manner throughout the whole business. " Yours ever, &c. "P. S. I have got Lord (Jlenhervie's book, winch is very amusing and able upon the topics whii h he touches upon, and part of the preface pathetic. Write soon." LETTER DLVII. TO MR. MURRAY. "Pisa, April 22,1828. u Ynu will regret to hear that I have received intclli gence of the death of my daughter Allegra of a fever, in the convent of Bagna Cavallo, where she was placed for the last year, to commence her education. It is a heavy blow for many reasons, hut must be home, with time. " It is my present intention to send her remains to England for sepulture in Harrow church, (where I once hoped to have laid my own,) and tins is my reason for troubling you with this notice. I wish the funeral to be very private. The body is embalmed, and in lead. It will be embarked from Leghorn. Would you have any objection to give the proper directions on its arrival .' "I am yours, &c. ■ X. B. a P. S. You are aware that Protestants arc not allowed holy ground in Catholic countries. 11 LETTER DLVIII. TO MR. SHELLEY. "April 23, 1822. "The blow was stunning and unexpected ; for I thought die danger over, by the long interval between her stated amelioration and the arrival of the express. But I have borne up against it as I best can, and so far stieeessfaliy, that I can go about the usual business of life with (ho same appearance of composure, and even greater. There is nothing to prevent your cunnng to-morrow; but, per- haps, to-day, and yester-evening, it was better not to have met. I do not know that I have anv thing to reproach in my conduct, and certainly nothing in my feelings and intentions towards the dead. Bui it \i a moment when LETTERS, 1S22. 201 we are apt to think that, if this or that had be n done, such event might have been prevented ; (hough every day and hour shows us that ihey are the most natural and inevitable. I suppose that Time will do his usual work — Deuih has done his. K Yours ever, "N.B." LETTER DLIX. TO SIR WALTER SCOTT. e Pisa,May4, 1322. *MV DEAR SIR WALTER, •Your account of your family is very pleasing: would that"! 'could answer this comfort with the like I' but I have just lost my natural daughter, Allegra, by a fever. The only consolation, save time, is the reflection, that she is either at rest or happy ; for her few years (only five) prevented her from having incurred any sin, except what we inherit from Adam. 'Whom the goda love, die young.* a I need n<»t say that your letters are particularly wel- come, when they do not tax your time andVpalience ; and now that our correspondence is resumed, I trust it will continue. M have lately had some anxiety, rather than trouble about an awkward affair here, which von may perhaps have heard of: but our minister has behaved very hand- somely, and the Tuscan Government as well as it is pos- sible for such a government to behave, which is not saying much for the latter. Some other English, and Scots, and myself, had a brawl with a dragoon, who insulted one of the party, and whom we mistook for an officer, as he was medalled and well mounted, &c. ; but he turned out to be a sergeant-major. He called out the guard at the gates to arrest us, (we being unarmed ;) upon which I and another (an Italian) rode through the said guard ; but they succeeded in detaining others of the party. I rode to my house, and sent my secretary tcjfgive an account of the attempted and illegal arrest to the authorities, and then, without dismounting, rode back towards the gates, which are near my present mansion. Half way I met my man, vapouring away, and threatening to draw upon me, (who had a cane in my hand, and no other arms.) I, etill believing him an officer, demanded his name and address, and gave him my hand and glove thereupon. A servant of mine thrust in between us, (tntallv without orders,) but let him so on my command. He then rode off at full need ; but about forty paces further was stab- bed, and very dangerously, (so as to be in peril,) by some Cairn m Beg or other of my1pcd*ple, (tor I have some rough-handed folks about me,) I need hardly say without my direction or approval. The said dragoon I . sabnr.g our unarmed countrymen, however, at the gate, after thai were vi arresty and held by the guards, and wounded one, Captain Hay, very severely. However, he got his paiks, having acted like an assassin, and being treated like one. IV ho wounded him, though it was done before thousands of people, they have never been able to ascertain, or prove, nnr even the iceapon ; some said a pistol, an air-gun, a stiletto, a sword, a lance, a pitchfork, and what not. They have arrested and examined ser- vants and people of all descriptions, but can make out nothing. Mr. Dawkins, our minister, assures me, that no suspicion is entertained of the man who wounded him having been instigated by me, or any of the party. I enclose you copies of the depositions of those with us, and Dr. Craufurd, a canny Scot, (not an acquaintance,) who saw the latter part of the affair. They are in Italian. "These are the only literary matters in which I have been engaged since the publication and row about ( Cain ■;' out Mr. Murray has several tilings of mine in his obste- 26 trica! hands. Another Mystery — a Vision — a Drama— and the like. But you wont tell me what you are dom» ; however, I shall fir.d you out, write what you will. You say that I should like your son-in-iaw ; it would be very difficult for me to dislike any one coimected with you ; but I have no doubt that his own qualities are all that \ou describe. " I am sorry you do n't like Lord Orford's new work. My aristocracy, which is very fierce, makes Mm a favour- ite of mine. Recollect that those 'little factions' com- prised Lord Chatham and Fox, the father, and that we live in gigantic and exaggerated times, which make all under Gog and Magog appear pigmean. After having seen Napoleon begin like Tamerlane and end like Bajazet in our own time, we have not the same interest in what would otherwise have appeared important history. But I must conclude. "Believe me ever and most truly yours, "Noel Byron." LETTER DLX. TO MR. MURRAY. "Pisa, May, 17, 1822. "I hear that the Edinburgh has attacked the three- dramas, which is a bad business for you; and I dout wonder that it discourages you. However, that volume may be trusted to time, — depend upon it. I read it over with some attention since it was published, and I think the time will come when it will be preferred to my other miings, though not immediately. I say this without irri- tation against the critics or criticism, whatever they may be, (for I have not seen them ;) and nothing that has or may appear in Jeff] Re* iew can make me forget that he stood by me for ten good years without any motive to do so but his own good-will. "I hear Moore is in town ; remember me to him, and believe me" " Yours truly, ■N. B. "P.S. If you think it necessary, you may send me the Edinburgh. Should there be any thing that requires an answer, I w ill reply, but temperately and technically ; that is to say, merely with respect to the principles of the criti- cism, and not personally or offensively as to its literary merits." LETTER DLXI. TO MR. MOORE. "Pisa, May 17,1822. "I hear you are in London. You will have heard from Douglas Kinnaird (who tells me you have dined with him) as much as you desire to know of my affairs at home and abroad. I have lately lost my little girl Allegra by a fever, which has been a serious blow to me. " I did not write to you lately, (except one letter to Murray*s,) not know a your ' whereabouts. Douglas K. refused to forward my message to Mr. Sou they — why, he himself can explain. "You will have seen the statement of a squabble, &c. &c* "What are you about ? Let me hear from you at your leisure, and believe me ever yours, «N. B." LETTER DLXn. TO MB. MURRAY. " Montenero,f May 26, 1822. " Near Leghorn. "The body is embarked, in what ship I know not, nei- * Here fellows a repetition of the details given on tils lubjeet lo Bit Walter Scott and other*. t AhiU.Uiree or four mile* from Leghorn, much retorted to ai a p«M of residence during the summer irj) iih». 202 LETTERS, 1622. Iher could I enter into the details ; but the Countess G . G. has had the goodness to give I orders to Mr. Durui, who superintends the embarkation, and will ■vrite to you. I wish 11 to be buried in Harrow church. " There is a spot in the churctn/arri, near the foot path, on the brow of the hill looking towards Windsor, and a tomb under a large tree, {I- ■■ ' ol Peacbie, or Peachey,) where I used to sit f'r hours and hours wheu a boy. This was my favourite spot ; bul as 1 wish to erect a tablet to her memory, the body bad better be deposited in the church. Ne« , on the left hand as you enter, there is a monument with a labial ing these words : — • Wbcri Sorrow weepso'ir Virt-i. ' - laefTcTdalt, Our tears bocome ua, aod OOr griefia Just I Such were Hie lears ahe shed, who grateful pay! This last Bad tribute of her love and praiae .' I recollect them, (after seventeen years,) not 6om any thing remarkable in them, but because from my seat in the gallery I had generally my eyes turned towards thai monument. As near it as convenient I coul I wish Alle- gro to be buried, and on the wall a marble tablet placed, with these words : — " In Memory of Allegra, Daughter of G. G. Lord Byron, who died at Bagna Cavallo, in Italy, April 20th, 1822, aged five years ami three months. 1 1 shall go lo her, but she ahall not return to me.' Set Samuel, xii.23. I went over the Constitution, (the Commodore's flag-ship,) and saw, among other things worthy of remark, a little boy torn on board nl ber byasailor's wife. They had led him 'Constitution Jones.' I, of course, ap- the name; and the woman added,' Ah, sir, if he turns out but half as good as his name !' " Yours ever, &C." "The funeral I wish to he as private us is consistent with decency ; and I could hope that Henry Drury will, perhaps, read the service over her. If he should decline it, it can be done by die usual minister for the lime being. I do not know that I need add more just now. "Since I came here, I have been invited by the Ameri- cans on board Uteir squadron, where I was received widi all the kindness wliich I could wish, and with mare cere- mony than I am fond of. I round them finer ships than your own of the same class, well manned and . A number of American gentlemen also were on board at the time, and some ladies. As I was taking hue, an American lady asked me for a rosi re, for the purpose, she said, of sending to America something which I had about me, as a memorial. 1 need not add that 1 felt die compliment properly. Captain Chauncey showed me an American and very pretty edition of my poems, and offered me a passage to the United Slates, if I would go there. Commodore Jones was also not less kind and attentive. I have since received the enclosed [etter,do- siring me to sit for my picture for some Americans. It ular diat, in the same year that Lady Noel Leaves by will an interdiction for my daughter to see her father's portrait for many years, the individuals of a nation not remarkabli C i their likin sit for mj c pottrtraicture,' as Baron Bradwardine calls it. I am also told of considerable literary honours in Germany. Goethe, I am told, is my professed patron and protector. At Lcipsic, this year, the highest prize was proposi d for a translation of two cantos of Childe Harold. I am n"t sure that this was at teipsic, but Mr. Rowcroftwaa my authority — a good German scholar, (a young Ann ncan,) and an acquaintance of Goethe's. "Goetho and the Germans arc particularly fond of Don Juan, which they judge of as a work of art. I had heard something of this before through Baron Lutzerode. The translations have been very frequent of several of the works, and Goethe made a comparison between Faust and Manfred. " All this is some compensation for your English native Vutality, so fully displayed this year to its highest extent. * I forgot to mention a little anecdote of a different kind, j LETTER DLXIII. TO MR. MURRAY. "Men i nero, near Leghorn, May 29, IS22. " I return you the proofs* revised. Your printer has made one odd mistake :— ' poor as a mouse,' instead of 'poor .is a miser.' The expression may seem strange, but it is only a translation of semper avarus eget.' You t stery, and publish as soon as you can. I care notlung ( m,' nor the Hue approbations as. All thai is to bi red by you on the subject is as a matter of biatrial ; and if I square thai t" your notions, (.even to the running the risk entirely : ,,, permit me to choose avj own time and i i on. With regard to the late volume, thi present run against it or me may impede it for a time, but it has the vral principle of permanency within it, as you may perhaps one day discover, I wrote lo you on another subject a few days ago. "Yours, ■•N.B. "P. S. Please to send me the Dedication of Sardana palus to Goethe. I shall prefii it to Werner, unless you prefer my putting another, slating that die former had been omitted by the publi "On the tidepage of die present volume, put ( Published Author by J. M." LETTER DLXIV. TO MR. MURRAF. " Montenero, Leghorn, June 6, 1822. "I return you the revise of Werner, and expect die rest. With regardto the Lines to the Po,pefhaps you had better put them quietly in a second edition (it you reach one, thai istosay) than in the first ; because, though they have been reckoned fine, and I wish them to be preserved, I do not wish them t" attract immediate observation, on act mi of the relationship of the Lady to whom they are addressed with the first fimnaes in Homagna and the Marches. " The dl find, r of 'Cam' may or may not be, as you term huu, 'a tyro m literature:' however, 1 mink both you and I are under great obligation t" him. I have n I Idinburjjh Review in Galigi t me, and have ndl yet decided whether to answer them or not; fiV, it'I do, it will bediliiculi t>r me apt 'to makeeport for the Philistines 1 by pulling down a In. use or two; since, when t ones lake pen in hand, I must say what comes upper- most, or fling il away. I have not the hypocrisy to pre- tend impartiality, noi the temper (as it is i ailed) to keep always from saying what may not be pleasing to the hearer or reader. What do ihey mean by 'elaborate? w by, you know that they were written as fast as I could' put pen to paper, and pruned from the original MSS., and never revised but in the proofs: luoh at the dates and the MSK. themselves. Whatever faults they have must spring from carelessness, and not fi"in Labour. They said tl„ at i • l.ara,' which I wrote while undressing, after coming home from balls and masi|ueradcs in the year of revelry, ISM "Yours. "June 8, 1822. • You give me no explanation of your intention as to the LETTERS, 1822. 203 1 Vision of Quevedo Redivivus,' one of my best things : indeed, you are altogether so abstruse and undecided lately, that I suppose you^mean me to write 'John Mur- rav, Esq. a Mystery,'-T-a composition which would no! displease the clergy nor the trade. I by no means wisl. you to do what vol do n't like, but merely to say what you will do. The Vision must be published by some one. As to * clamours,' the die is cast ; and, ( come one, come all,' we will fight it out — at least one of us." LETTER DLXV. TO MR. MOORE. ■ Montenero, Villa Dupov, near Leghorn, "June 8,1822. * I have written to you twice through the medium of Alurrav, and on one subject, trite enough, — the loss of poor little Allegra by a fever ; on which topic I shall say no more — there is nothing but time. " A few davs ago, my earliest and dearest friend, Lord l llare, came over from Geneva on purpose to see me be- Ibre he returned to England. As I have always loved him (since I was thirteen, at Harrow) better than any (mate) thing in the world, I need hardly say what a me- lancholy pleasure it was to see him for a day only ; for he was obliged to resume his journey immediately. * * ****** I have heard, also, many other tilings of our acquaintances which I did 'not know; among others, that * * * *. Do you recollect, in the year of revelry, 1814, the pleasantest parties and balls all over London ? and not the least so at * * 's. Do^jou recol- lect vour singing duets with Lady * *, and my flirtation with Lady* *, and all the other fooleries of the time? while * * was sighing, and Lady * * ogling him with her clear hazel eyes. J9i<* eight years have passed, and since that time, * * has ****** ; has run away with ***** ; and myscn (as my Nottingham- thirc friends call themselves) might as well have thrown myself out of the window while you were singing, as in- lermarried where [ did. You and ***** have come off the best of us. I speak merely of my marriage, and its consequences, distresses, and calumnies; for I have been much more happy, on the whole, since, than I ever could have been with * * * * *■ I have read the recent article of Jeffrey in a faithful transcription of the impartial Galignani. I suppose the Ion" and short of it is, that he wishes to provoke me to reply. But 1 won't, for I owe him a good turn still for bis kindness by-gone. Indeed, I presume that the present jpportumty of attacking me again was irresistable ; and 1 can't blame him, knowing what human nature is. I shall make but one remark :— what does he mean by elaborate? The whole volume was written with the greatest rapidity, in the midst of evolutions and revolutions, and perse- cutions, and proscriptions of all who interested me in Italy. They said the same of ' Lara,' which, you know, was' written amid balls and fooleries, and after coming home from masquerades and routs, in the summer of the sovereigns. Of all I have ever written, they are perhaps ihe most carelessly composed ; and their faults, whatever they may bo, are those of negligence, and not of labour. I do not tlunk this a merit, bin it is a fact. " Yours ever and truly, "N. B. " P. S. You see the great advantage of my new signa- ture : it may either stand for ' Nota Bene' or ' Noel Byron,' and, as such, will save much repetition, in writing either books or letters. Since I came here, I have been invited on board of the American squadron, and treated with all possible honour and ceremony. They have asked me to sit for my picture; and, as I was going away, an American lady took a rose from me, (which had been given to me by a very pretty Italian lady that very mom- ni7.) because she said, 'She was determined to send or take something winch I had about me to America.' There is a kind of Lalla Rookh incident for you ! However, all these American honours arise, perhaps, not so much from their enthusiasm for my ' Poeshie,' as their belief in my dislike to the English, — in which I have the satisfaction to coincide with them. I would rather, however, have a d from an American, than a snuff-box from an em- peror." LETTER DLXVI. TO MR. ELLICE. "Montenero, Leghorn, June 12, 1822. " MY DEAR ELLICE, "It is a long time since 1 tiave written to you, but I have not forgotten your kindness, and I am now going to tax it — I hope not too highly — but do nt be alarmed, it is not a loan, but information which I am about to solicit. Bv your extensive connexions, no one can have better opportunities of hearing the real state of South America — I mean Bolivar's country. I have many years had trans- atlantic projects of setUement, and what I could wish from you would be some information of the best course to pursue, and some letters of recommendation in case I should sail for Angostura. I am told that land is very cheap there ; but though I have no great disposablefunds to vest in such purchases, yet my income, such as it is, would be sufficient in any country, (except England,) for all the comforts of life, and for most of its luxuries. The war there is now over, and as 1 do not go there to speculate, but to settle without any views but those of independence and the enjoyment of the common civil rights, I should presume such an arrival would not be unwelcome. "All I request of you is, not to discourage nor encou- rage, bot to give me such a statement as you think prudent and proper. I do not address my other friends upon this subject, who would only throw obstacles in my way, and bore ine to return to England ; which I never will do, unless Compelled by some insuperable cause. I have a quantity of furniture, books, &c. &c. &c. which I could easily ship from Leghorn; but I wish to 'look before I leap' over the Atlantic. Is it true mat for a few thousand dollars a large tract of land may he obtained? I speak of South America, recollect. I have read some publica- tions on the subject, but they seemed violent and vulgar party productions. Please to address your answer to me at tiiis place, and believe me ever and truly yours, &c." LETTER DLXVII. TO MR. MURRAY. "Pisa,July6,1822. "I return you the revise.* I have softened the part to which Gifford objected, and changed the name of Michael to Raphael, who was an angel of gentler sym- pathies. By-the-way, recollect to alter Michael to Ra- phael in the scene itself throughout, for I have only had time to do so in the list of the dramatis personam, and scratch nut all the pcnril-murks, to avoid puzzling the printers. I have given the ' Vision of Quevcdo RedhivuJ to John Hunt, which will relieve you from a dilemma. He must publish it at his mm ri &C. 1 i.Kttii; hi, XIX. TO Mil. MOORE. "Pisa, July 12, 1822. K I have written to you lately, but nol in answer to your jasl letter of about a fortnighl ago. 1 wish to know [and requesj an answer to that point) what became of H,. st an/as to Wellington, 11 (intended to open a canto of Don Juan with,) which I sent you several months ago. II they have Fallen into Murray's hands, he and the Tories mil suppi i ■ them, ai tl a line: rati that hero at his real value. Tin be ex] n tins, as 1 have no other copy, having sent you the original ; and if you have them, let me have that again, or a copy correct. * * * R I subscribed at Leghorn two hundred Tuscan crowns to your Irishism committee : it is about a thousan more or less. As Sir C. S., who receives thirteen tl - sand a-year of the public money, could no) afford ,■1 livres out of his enormous salary, ii would have appean d ostentatious in a private individual t" pre- tend to surpass him ; and therefore I have sent but the above sun', as you will gee by the enclosed receipt "Leigh Hunt is here, after a voyage of eight months, during which he has, I presume, made the Periplus of Hanno the Carthaginian, and with much the same speed. lie is setting up a Journal, to which I have promised to contribute; and in the first number the 'Vision of Judg- ment, by duevedo Rcdivivus,' will probably appear, with other articles. "Can you give us any tiling? He seems sanguine about the matter, but {mire nous) I am not. 1 do not, however, like to put him out of spirits by saying so; for be is bilious and unwell. Do. pray, answer this letter immediately. " Do send Hunt any thing, in prose or verse, of yours, l Dou Juic, Caolo IX. S.ama 1. to start him handsomely — any lyrical, irical, or what you please. L Has not your Potato Committee been blundering? Your ad',. hi Mr. L. Callaghan (a name for a banker) hath been disposing of money in Ireland 'sans authority vC the Committee.' I suppose it will end in Caltaghan's calling out the Committee, the i ties pistols in his pocket, of course. 8 When you can spare lime from duelling, coquetting and clareting with vour Hibernians of both sexes, let me have a hue from you. I doubt whether Paris is a good ii the comp isHioD of your new poesy. 1 LETTER DLXX. TO MR. MOORE. -Pisa, August 8, 1822. "You will have heard by this time thai Shelley and another gentleman (Captain Williams) were drowned about a month ago, {a mwUfi yesterday,) in a squall off* There is ihus another man gone, about whom the world was ill-naturedly, and ignorantly, and brutally mistaken. It will, perhaps, do him justice now, when be can be no better for it. 'You were all mistaken about Shelley, who was, without exception, tho best and least selfish man 1 ever knew.' L - 1 have not seen the thing you mention,* and only heard of it casually, nor have 1 any desire. The price is, as I saw in some advertisements, fourteen shillings, which i* too much to pay fur a libel on <>!,.■'< self. Some one said in a letter, that it was a Doctor Watkins, who deals in the life and libel line. It must have dimished vour natural pleasure, as a friend, (vide Kochefoucault,) to see yourself Hi It. B With regard to the Blackwood fellows, I never pub- lished any tinny against them; nor, indeed, have seen theii Magazine (except in Galignanffl extracts) for these three years past. I once wrote, a good while ago, some remarks! on their review of Don Juan, but saying very* little about themselves, — and these were not published. If vou think iliat 1 iiu^lit to follow your c:.simp!e| (and I tike to be in your company when I can) in contradicting their impudence, you may shape this declaration of mino into a similar paragraph for me. It is possible that you may hai e Been the little I did write (ami never published) at Alurrav's; ii contained much more about Southey than about the Blacks. ■ If you think that I ought to do any tlung about Wat- Irfns's I Ir, I should not care much about publishing my Memoir now, should it be necessary to counteract the fellow. Hut in thai ease, I should lU*e to look over the pre&l myself Lei me know what you think, or whether 1 had belter not} — at least, not the second part, which touches on the actual confines of still existing matters. "I have written three more Cantos • f Don Juan, and am hovering on the brink of another, (the ninth.) The reason I v anl the stanzas again which 1 sent vou is, that as these cantos contain a full detail (like the storm in Canto Second) of the siege and assault of Ismael with much of Barcasm on those hutchersQ in large business, your mercenary soldiery, it is a good opportunity of grac- ing the poem with *****_ With in I these fellows, it is necessary, in the pre- b of philosophy and tyranny, to throw away the scabbard. 1 know it is against fearful odds ; but the battle must be fought ; and U will bo eventually for the good of A book which had Jml uppcarud, entitled " Memoirs of the HieU Hon. Lord Byron " * t Sh I? It eri w the BfJItOra of Bl«ckwoml'» Magazine, pope 292. J It h.ul bean unrud, hi a lute number of iHackw ood, that both Lord Byron and myself were employed in writing satires against tbfcl U Alluding to Wellington. See the beginning of Canto IX. LETTERS, 1822. 205 mankind, whatever it may be for the individual who risks himself. " What do you think of your Irish bishop ? Do you remember Swift's line, ' Let me have a barrack — a fig for the clergy? This seems to have been his reverence's motto. * * * * * ******* " Yours, &c." LETTER DLXXI. TO MR. MOORE. "Pisa, August 27, 1S22. " II is boring to trouble you with ' such small gear ;' but it must be owned that I should be glad if you would mt|Mire whether my Irish subscription ever reached the Committee in Paris from Leghorn. My reasons, like Vellum's, 'are threefold:' First, I doubt the accuracy of all almoners, or remitters of benevolent cash: second, 1 do suspect that the said Committee, having in part served its time to timeserving, may have kept back the acknow- ledgment of an obnoxious politician's name in their lists ; and, third, I feel pretty sure that I shall one day be twitted by the government scribes for having been a professor of love for Ireland, and not coming forward with the others in her distresses. "It is not, as you may opine, that I am ambitious of having my name in the papers, as I can have that any day in the week gratis. All I want is, to know if the Reverend Thomas Hall did or did not remit my subscrip- tion (200 scudi of Tuscany, or about a thousand francs, more or less) to the Committee at Paris. tt The other day at Viareggio, I thought, proper to swim off to my schooner (the Bolivar) in the offing, and thence to shore again— about three miles, or better, in all. As it was at midday, under a broiling sun, the consequence has been a feverish attack, and my whole skin's coming off, after going through the process of one large continuous blister, raised by the sun and sea together. I have suf- fered much pain ; not being able to lie on my back, or even side ; for my shoulders and arms were equally St. Bartholomewed. But it is over, — and I have got a new skin, ami am as glossy as a snake in its new suit. B We have been burning the bodies of Shelley and 'Williams on the seashore, to render them fit for removal and regular interment. You can have no idea what an extraordinary effect such a funeral pile has, on a desolate Bhore, with mountains in the back-ground and the sea before, and the singular appearance the salt and frankin- cense gave to the flame. All of Shelley was consumed, except his heart, which would not take the flame, and is now preserved in spirits of wine. "Your old acquaintance, Londonderry, has quietly died at North Cray ! and the virtuous De Witt was torn in pieces by the populace ! What a lucky * * * * * the Irishman has been in his life and end.* In him your Irish Franklin est mort! "Leigh Hunt is sweating articles for his new Journal ; and both he and I think it somewhat shabby in you not to contribute. W ill you become one of the properrioters ? Do, and we go snacks. 1 I recommend you to think twice before you respond in the negative. u I have nearly {quite three) four new cantos of Don Juan ready. I obtained permission from the female Censor Morum of my morals to continue it, provided it were immaculate ; so I have been as decent as need be. There is a deal of war — a siege, and ail that, in the style, graphical and technical, of the shipwreck in Canto Se- cond, which 'took,' as they say, in the Row. "Yours. &c. " P. S. That * * * Galignani has about ten lies m one paragraph. It was not a Bible that was found in Shelley's pocket, but John Keats's poems. However, it would not have been strange, for he was a great admirer of Scripture as a composition. / did not send my bust to the academy of New-York ; but I sat for my picture to young West, an American artist, at the request of some members of that Academy to him that he would take my portrait, — for the Academy. I believe. " I had, and still have, thoughts of South America, but am fluctuating between it and Greece. 1 should have gone, long ago, to one of them, but for my liaison with the Countess G'.; for love, in these days, is little com- patible with glory. She would be delighted to go too, but I do not choose to expose her to a long voyage, and a residence in an unsettled country, where I shall probably take a part of some sort." LETTER DLXXII. TO MR. MURRAV. * The particular* of this event bad, it la evident, not vet rtacoeo Bw Mfiowi "Genoa, October 9. 1822. " I have received your letter, and as you explain it, I have no objection, on your account, to omit those pas- sages in the new Mystery, (which were marked in the half-sheet sent the other day to Pisa,) or the passage in Cain; — but why not be open, and say so aXjirst? You should be more straight-forward on every account. " I have been very unwell — four days confined to my bed in ' the worst inn's worst room,' at Lerici, with a vio- lent rheumatic and bilious attack, constipation, and the devil knows what : — no physician, except a young fellow, who, however, was kind and cautious, and that's enough "At last I seized Thompson's book of prescriptions, (a donation of yours,) and physicked myself with the first dose I found in it ; and after undergoing the ravages of all kinds of decoctions, sallied from bed on the fifth day to cross the Gulf to Seslri. The sea revived me instantly ; and I ate the sailor's cold fish, and drank a gallon of coun- try win.*, and got to Genoa the same night after landing at Sestri, and have ever since been keeping well, but thin- ner, and with an occasional cough towards evening. " I am afraid the Journal is a bad business, and won't do ; but in it I am sacrificing myself for others — / can have no advantage in it. I believe die brothers Hunts to be honest men ; I am sure that they are poor ones: they have not a nap. They pressed me to engage in this work, and in an evil hour I consented. Still I shall not repent, if I can do them the least service. I have done all I can for Leigh Hunt since he came here ; but it is almost use- less : — his wife is ill, liis six children not very tractable and in the affairs of this world he himself is a child. The death of Shelley left them totally aground ; and I could not see them in such a state without using the common feelings of humanity, and what means were in my power* to set them afloat again. "So Douglas Kinnaird is out of the way? He was so the last time 1 sent him a parcel, and he gives no previous notice. When is he expected again 7 " Yours, &c. " P. S. Will you say at once — do you publish Werner and the Mystery, or not ? You never once allude to them. " That cursed advertisement of Mr. J. Hunt is out of the limits. I did not lend him my name to be hawked about in this way. ****** u How ever, I believe — at least, hope — that after all you may be a good fellow at bottom, and it is on this presump- tion that I now write to you on the subject of a poor wo- man of the name of Fbssy, who is, or was, an author of yours, as she savs, and nublished a book op Switzerland in 1816. patronized by the 'Court and Colonel M'Mahon, LETTERS, 1822. 206 Bui it seems that neither the Court nor the Colonel couM get ovei the portentous price of * three pounds thirteen ui< I -i\,i in-. , which alarmed the to ■ ■- public; and, m short, 'the book died away,' and, what is worse, the pooi soul's husband di< d too, and she writes with the man a corpse before her; but instead of addressing the bishop v the publication in a pecuniary point of w\ iw. His brother is .1 -■■ ady, bold fi How, such as Ptynnej for exam- ple, and full of moral) and] [hear) physical courage. " Ami you are really recanting or softening to the clergy! It will do little good for you — it is you, not tin- poem, they are at. They will say they frightened you — forbid it, Ireland! "Yours ever, "X. B." LETTER DLXXVIII. TO MRS. 11 1 presume that yon, at least, know enough of me to be sure that 1 could have no intention to insult Bunt's poverty. On the contrary, I honour him for it ; for I know what it is, having been as much embarras 1 over he was, without perceiving aught in it to diminish an honourable man's self-respect. If you mean to say that, had lie been a wealthy man, I would have joined in this Journal, I answer in the negative. * * * I engaged in the Journal from good-will towards him, added to respect fur his character, literary and personal; and no less for lis political courage, as well as regret for his present circumstances: I did this in the hope that he might, with the same aid from literary friends of literary contribu- tions, (which is requisite for all Journals of a mixed nature,] render himself independent. ****** u l ha*- always treated him, in our personal intercourse, with such scrupulous delicacy, that I have foreborne in- truding fid\ io , \\hu:h 1 llmn-lil mi III In 'h .1 .;.-.,:■.'. lest he should impute it to what is called 'talcing advan- tage ofa man's situation ' " As in til. 'nil -I ip, it is a propensity in which my genius is very limited. 1 do not know the male human being, except Lord Clare, the friend of my infancy, for whom 1 feel any thing that deserves the nam--. All my others are men of the world fiiendshi] s. I did not even feel it foi Shelley, however much I admired and esteemed him ; bo that you see nol even vanity could bribe me into it, for, of all men, Shelley thought highest of my talents, — and, per- haps, of my disposition. " I will do my duty by my intimates, upon the principle of doing as you would be dour by. I have done so, I trust, in most instances. 1 may be pleased with their con- versation — rejoice in their Bucces — be glad to do them a service, er to receive their counsel and assistance in re- turn. But, as for friends and friendship, I have (as I al- ready .-aid) named th ily remaining male for whom i feel any thing of the kind, excepting perhaps, Thomas Moore. I have had, and may have still, a thousand friends, as they are called, in life, who are like one's part- ners in the waltz of this world, not much remembered when the ball is over, though very pleasant for the time. Habit, business, and companionship m pleasure or in pain, an- links ofa similar kind, and the same faith in politics is another." * * * LETTER DLXXIX. " Genoa, March, 28, 1S23. + * * * * * "Mr. Hill is her'-: [dined with him on Saturday be- fore last ; and on leaving Ins house at S. P. d'Arena, nvj carriage broke down. I walked home, about three miles, — no very great feat of pedestrianism ; but either the coming out of hot rooms into a bleak wind chilled me, <>r the walking up-hill to Albaro heated me. or snmethm- u other set me wrong, and ne\t day I had an inflammatory attack in the face, to which I have been subject litis win- ter for the first time, and I suffered a good deal of pain, but no peril. My health is now much as usual. Mr. 1 believe, occupied with bis diplomacy. I shall in y«>ur message when I see him again.* B M) name, I see in the papers, has been dragged into the unhappy Portsmoul I w Inch all that 1 know is irery succineL Mr. Hanson is my solicitor. I found him so when I was t. D years old — at my uncle's death — and he was continued in the managi meat of my legal business. He asked me, by a civil espistle, as an old ac- quaintance "I" bis family, to be pr< sent at the marriage of .Miss Hanson. 1 went very reluctantly] one misty morn- ing (for I had been up at two balls all night,) to witness the ceremonyj which I could not very well refuse without affronting a man who had never offended me. I saw nothing particular in the marriage. Of course I could not know the preliminaries, except from what he said, not having ui at the wooing, nor after it, for I walked home, and they went into the country as soon as they had protnis* ed and vowed. Out of this simple fad 1 hear the Debatsde Paris ha II. as 'autrefois ires bee avec le celehri ,' \e. ive. I am obliged to him for the celebrity, hut beg leave to dei line the liaison, which is quite untrue; my liaison was with the father, in the unsentimental shape of long lawyers' bills, through the medium of which I have had to pay him ten or twelve thousand pounds within these few yt are. She was not pretty, and I suspect that the in- defatigable Mr. A was (like all her people) more attracted by her title than her charms. I regret very much that 1 was presenl ai the prologue to the happy state oi horsewhipping and black jebs, &c. &c., but I could not thai a man was to turn out mad, who had gone about the world f >r fifty years, as competent to vote, and walk at large ; nor did he seem to me inure insane lhan any other person going to be married. "I have noobje :ttonto be acquainted with the Marquis ini, if he wishes it. Lately, I have gone little into society, English or foreign, for I had seen all that was worth seeing in the former before I left England, and at the time of life when 1 was more disposed to like it ; and of the latter I had a sufficiency in the first few years of n> i idence in Switzerland, chiefly at Madame de Stael'a/where I went sometimes, till I grew tired of con- versazioni and carnivals, with their appendages, and the bore is, that if you go once, you are expected to be there daily, or rather nightly. I went the round of the most noted soirees at Y< Dice or elsewhere (where I remained hot any time) to the Benzona, and the Albrizzi, and the i &c. &C, and to the Cardinals and the various potentates of the Legation in Romagna (that is, Ravenna,) and only receded for the sake of quiet when I came into Tuscany. Besides, if I go into society, I generally get, in the long run, into some scrape of some kind or other, which do ut occur in my solitude. However, I am prett) well settled now, liy time and temper, which isHO far luck} as it prevents!' ■'.■■ ni j but, as I said before, as an act tance of yours, I will be ready and willing to know you friends. He may be a sort i f connexion for aught I knon \ for a Falavicina, of Hofogwii I believe, married a distant relative of mine half a century ago. I happen to know the fact, as he and his spouse bad an annuity of five hun- dred pounds on my uncle's property, which ceased at his demise, though I recollect hearing they attempted, natu- rally enough, to make it survive htm. If I can doanv thing for you here, or elsewhere, pray order, and be obeyed." LETTER DLXXX. TO MR. MOORE. "Genoa, April 2, 1823. ' I have just seen some friends of yours, who paid me a ■ The fclnrl of PortBmnuth marrird Mint Hun son. Attempts wcr« made about (km lime iii the Kuglish Court* to [.rote him meant. LETTERS, 1823. 209 visit yesterday, which, in honour of them and of you, I re- turned to-day ; — as I reserve my bear-skin and teeth, and paws and claws, for our enemies. " I have also seen Henry Fox, Lord Hollands son, whom I had not looked upon since I left him a pretty mild boy, without a neckcloth, in a jacket, and in delicate health, seven lon^ years agone, at the period of mine eclipse — *he third, I believe, as I have generally one every two or three years. I think that he has the softest and most amiable expression of countenance I ever saw, and manners correspondent. If to those he can add heredi- tary talents, he will keep the name of Fox in all its fresh- ness for half a centurv more, I hope. I speak from a transient glimpse — but I love still to yield to such im- pressions ; for I have ever found that those I liked longest and best, I took to at first sight ; and I always liked that boy ; perhaps, in part, from some resemblance in '.he less fortunate part of our destinies ; 1 mean, to avoid mistakes, his lameness. But there is this difference, that he appears a halting angel, who has tripped against a star; while I am Le Diable Botieux, — a soubriquet, which I marvel that, among their various jiominis umbras, the Orthodox have not hit upon. "Your other allie?, whom I have found very agreeable personages, and Milor Blesshigton and spouse, travelling with a very handsome companion, in the shape of a ' French Count,' (to use Farquhar's phrase in the Beaux' Stratagem,) who has all the air of a Cupidon dichaini, and is one of the few specimens I have seen of our ideal of a Frenchman before the Revolution — an old friend with a new face, upon whose like I never thought that we should look again. Miladi seems highly literary, to which, and your honour's acquaintance with the family, I attri- bute the pleasure of having seen them. She is also very pretty, even in a morning, — a species of beauty on which the sun of Ital" does not shine so frequently as the chan- delier. Certainly, Englishwomen wear better than their continental neighbours of the same sex. M * * seems very good-tat ured, but is much tamed, since I recol- lect him in all the glory of genos and snuff-boxes, and uniforms, and theatricals, and speeches in our house — 'I mean, of peers' (I must refer you to Pope — whom you do n't read, and won't appreciate — for that quota- tion, which you must allow to be poetical,) and sitting to Stroeling, the painter (do you remember our visit, with Leckie, to the German?) to be depicted as one of the heroes of A gincourt,' with his long sword, saddle, bridle, whack fal de,' &c.&c. "I have been unwell — caught a cold and inflamma- tion, which menanced a conflagration, after dining with our ambassador, Monsieur Hill, — not owing to the dinner, but my carriage broke down on the way home, and I had to walk some miles, up-hill partly, after hot rooms, in a very bleak windy evening, and over-hotted, or over- cotded myself. I have not been so robustious as for- merly, ever since the last summer, when I fell ill after a long swim in the Mediterranean, and have never been quite right up to this present writing. I am thin, — perhaps thinner than you saw me, when I was nearly transparent, in 1812, — and am obliged to be moderate of my mouth, which, nevertheless, won't prevent me (the gods willing) from dining with your friends the day after to-morrow. tt They give me a very good account of you, and of your nearly 'Emprisoned Angels.' But why did you change your title ? — you will regret this some day. The bigots are not to be conciliated , and, if they were, are they worth it? I suspect that I am a rhore orthodox Christian than you are; and, whenever I see a real Christian, either in practice or in theory, (for I never yet found the man who could produce either, when put to the proof) I am his disciple. But, till then, I cannot truckle to tithe- mongers, — nor can I imagine what has made you circumcise your Seraphs. 27 LETTER DLXXXI. TO THE EARL OF BLESSI?TGTO!T. "April 5,1823, "MR. DEAR LORD, * How is your gout ? or rather, how are you ? I return, the Count * *'s Journal, which is a very extraordinary production,* and of a most melancholy truth in all that regards high life in England. I know, or knew, per- sonally, most of the personages and societies, which he describes ; and after reading his remarks have the sensa- tion fresh upon rrie as 1 had seen therri yesterday. I would however plead in behalf of some few exceptions, which I will mention by-and-by. The most singular thing is, how he should have penetrated not the fact, but the mystery of the English ennui, at two-and- twenty, t was about the same age when I made the same dis- covery, m almost precisely the same circles — (for there is scarcely a person mentioned whom I did not see nightly or daily, and was acquainted more or less intimately with most of them) — but I never could have described it so well. Ilfaut etre Francois, to effect this. u But he ought also to have been in the country during* the hunting season, with 'a select party of distinguished guests,' as the papers term it. He ought to have seen the gentlemen after dinner, (on the hunting days,) and the soiree ensuing thereupon — and the women looking as if they had hunted, or rather been hunted; and I could have wished that he had been at a dinner in town, which 1 recollect at Lord C * *s — small, but select, and com- posed of the most amusing people. The dessert was hardly on the table, when, out of twelve I counted Jive asleep', of that five, there were Tierney, Lord * * and Lord * * — I forget the other two, but they were either wits or orators — perhaps poets. B My residence in the East and in Italy has made me somewhat indulgent of the siesta — but then they set regularly about it in warm countries, and perform it in solitude, (or at most in a ttke-a-teUe with a proper com- panion,) and retire quietly to their rooms to get out of the sun's way for an hour or two. "Altogether, your friend's Journal is a very formidable production. Alas! our dearly-beloved countrymen have only discovered tliat they are tired, and not that they are tiresome ; and I suspect that the communication of the latter unpleasant verity will not be better received than truths usually are. I have read the whole* with great attention and instruction. I am too good a patriot to say pleasure — at least I won't say so, whatever I may think. 1 showed it (I hope no breach of confidence,) to a young Italian Lady of rank, trls instruite also; and who passes, or passed, for being one of the three most celebrated belles in the district of Italy, where her family and connexions resided in less troublesome times as to politics, (which is not Genoa, by-the-wav,) and she was delighted with it, and says that she has derived a better notion of English society from it than from all Madame de StaePs meta- physical disputations on the same subject, in her work on the Revolution. I beg that you will thank the young philosopher, and make my compliments to Lady B. and her sister* " Believe me your very obliged and faithful "N.B. ? " P. S. There is a rumour in letters of some disturbance or complot in the French Pyrenean army— generals sus- pected or dismissed, and ministers of war travelling to see what's the matter. 'Marry, (as David says,) this hath an angry favour.' *Teli Count * * that some of the names are not quite intelligible, especially of the clubs ; he speaks of " In another teller to Lord Bleaaington, he •«»■ of thi» gentleman, "he wim to hare all the mialilira re.|ui»ua to hat* figured la hit brother-io-Iftw'i taeettor'i Memoiri." 210 LETTERS, lr>23. IVaUa perhaps he is ri^ht, but in my time JVatiers was man may do in London with impunity while he is 'a la LETTER DLXXXII. TO THE EAKL OF BLESSlIBGTON. "April 6. 182S. a It would be worse than idle, knowing, as 1 do, the mode j 1 which I think it well to state, thai he may not me of taking advantage of his confidence. The observations are very general." the Dandy Club, of which (though no dandy) 1 was a member, at the lime loo of its greatest glory, when Brum- mcll and MUdmdy, Alvanley and Pierrepoint, gave the dindy balls; and wo (the club, that is,) got up the famous masquerade at LSutlington House and Garden for Welling- ton. He does not speak of the Alfred, which was the LETTER DLXXXI1I. most nchercM and must tiresome of anv, as I know by being a member of thai too." T0 THE EARL 0F blessing™*. "April 14, 1823. "I am truly sorry that I cannot accompany you in your ride thia morning owing to a rioleot pain in my face, arising from a wart to which 1 by medical advice applied a caustic. Whether I put too much, I do not know, but the consequence is, not only I have been put to some pain, but the peccant part and its immediate environ are as black as if the printer^ devil had marKed me for an utter worlhlessness of words on such occasions, in me to author. As 1 do not v. ish to frighten your horses, or their attempt to express what I ought to feel, and do feci for. riders, I shall postpone waring upon y ,i until six ofcbek, the loss you have sustained |* and I must thus dismiss thai when I hope to have subsided into a n re Chriatianfilia subject, for I dare not trust myself further with \\ for your* resemblance to my ft How -creatures. My infliction lias sake, or fbr my own. I shall endeavour to see you as sunn purhally extended even to my fingers for on trying to gel as it may not appear intrusive. Pray excuse the levity the black from off my upper lip at least, I have only of my yesterday's scrawl — I little thought under what transfused a portion tl. rreofto my ngnl hand, and neither circumstances it would find you w I have received a very handsome and flattering note from Count * *. He must excuse my apparent rude- ness and real ignorance in replying to it in English, through the medium of your kind interpretation. I would not on any account deprive him of a production, of which I really think more than 1 have even said, though you are good enough not to be dissatisfied even with that ; but whenever it is completed, it would give me the greatest pleasure to have a copy — but how to keep it secret! lite— rarv secrets are bke others. By changing the names or at least omitting several, and altering the circumstances indicative of the writer's real station, the author would render it a most amusing publication. His countrymen have not been treated either in a literary or personal point lemon-juice nor eau de Cologne, nor any oilier can, have been able as yet to redeem it also from a more itky appearance than is either proper or pleasant. But ' out damn'd spot 1 — you may have perceived something of the kind yesterday, For on my return, 1 saw that during my visit it had increased, was inen osing, and ought to be diminished ; and 1 could not help laughing at the figure I must have cut before you. At any rate, I shall be wfdi you at SUE, with the advantage of twilight. "Ever most truly, &c. ■ 1 1 o'clock. U P. S. I wrote the above at three this morning. 1 regret to say that the whole of the skin of about an inch square above my upper lip has come off, so iIkii I cannot of view with such deference in English recent works,as to even shave or masticate, and I am equally unfit to appear lay him under any very great national obligation of forbes,- at your table, and to partake of its hospitality. AN' ill you ranee; and really the remarks are so true and so piquante therefore pardon me, and not mistake this rtii-ful excuse that I cannot bring myself to wish their suppression ; for a ' make-believej as you will soon recognise whenever though, as Dangle says, ' He is my friend,' many of these 1 have (he pleasure of meeting you again, and I will call personages ' were my friends] but much such friends as the momenl I am, in the nursery phrase, 'fit to be seen.' Dangle and his allies, " I return you Dr. Parr's letter — I have met him at Payne Knight's and elsewhere, and he did me the honour once to be a patron of mine, although a greal friend of the other branch of the House of Atreus, and the I rr» k teacher (I believe) of my moral Clytemnestra — I say moral, because it is true, and so useful to the virtuous, that it enables them to do any thing without the aid of an JEgisthus. "I beg my compliments to Lady B. Miss P. ami to your Alfred. I think, since his Majesty of the same name, there has not been such a learned surveyor of our Saxon society. " Ever yours most truly, "N. B. n "April 9, 1823. "UV DEAR LORD "P. S. I salute Milcdt, Madamoiselle Mama, and the illustrious Chevalier Count * * who, 1 hi pe, will continue his history of ' his own times.' There ar some strange coincidences between a part of his remarks and a certain work of mine, now in MS. in England, (I do not mean the hermetically sealed Memoirs, but a continuation of certain Cantos of a certain poem,) especially in what a * The death of Lord BleMingtiMi'a »on, which h»4 been tong tx- S*cied, but oi which lha ityoum had 'u«i ihen ttrdtcd. Tell Lady B. with my compliments, that I am rummag- ing my papers tor a MS. worthy of her acceptation. I have just *■ « u thr younger Count Gamba, and as I can- not prevail on his inlmile modesty to take the field without me, 1 must take this piece of diffidence on my m\self also, and beg your indulgence foi both." LETTER DLXXXrV. TO THE COUNT * *. B AprU22 1 I823. ■My dear Count * *, (if you will permit me to address you so familiarly,) you should be content with writing in your own language, like tirammont, and succeeding in 1. on, I, m as nobody has succeeded since the days of Charles the Second and the records of Antonio Hamil- ton, without deviating into our barbarous language^— which you understand and write, however, much better than it deserve*. " My ' approbation,' as you are pleased to ten;: it, was very sincere, but perhaps not very impartial ; for though I love my country, I do not love my countrymen— at least, such as they now are. And besides the seduction of talent and wit in your work, I fear that to me there was the attraction of vengeance. I havo seen and feli much of what you have described so well. I have known th« persons, and the reunions so described — (many of them. LETTERS, 1523. 211 that is 10 say,) — and the portraits are so like that I cannot but aJinire the painter no less than his perform- ance. - But I am sorry for you ; for if you are so well acquainted with life at your age, what will become of you when the illusion is still more dissipated ? but never nun f — en avant'. — live while you can ; and that you may have the fill enjoyment of the many advantages of youth, talent, and figure, which you possess, is the wish of an — Englishman, — I suppose, — but it is no treason; for my mother was Scotch, and my name ami my family arc both Norman ; and as for mvself, I am of no country. As for mv 'Works,' which you are pleased to mention, let them go to the devil, from whence (if you believe many per- sons) they came. " I have the honour to be your obliged, &c. &c." LETTER DLXXXV. TO THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON. * «May3,lS23. "dear lady * *, * My request would be for a copy of the miniature of Lady B., which I have seen in possession of the late Lady Noel, as I have no picture, or indeed memorial of any kind of Lady B., as all her letters were in her own possession before I left England, and we have had no cor- respondence since — at least on her part. '• My message, with regard to the infant, is simply to this effect — that in the event of anv accident occurring to the mother, and my remaining the survivor, it would be my wish to have her plans carried into effect, both with regard to the education of the child, and the person or persons under whose care Lady B. might be desirous that she should be placed. It is not my intention to interfere with her in any way on the subject during her life ; and I presume that it would be some consolation to her to know, (if she is in ill health, as I am given to understand,) that in no case would any thing be done, as far as I am concerned, hut in strict conformity with Lady B.'s own wishes and intentions — left in what manner she thought proper. " Believe me, dear Lady B., your obliged, &c." LETTER DLXXXVI. TO THE COUNTESS OF * * + . "A!baro,May 6, 1823. "MY DEAR LADY * * *, B I send you the letter which I had forgotten, and the book,* which I ought to have remembered. It contains (the book, I mean) some melancholy truths; though I believe that it is too triste a work ever to have been popu- lar. The first time I ever read i', (not the edi'ion I send you, — for I got if since,) was at the desire of Madame de Stael, who was supposed by the good-natured world to be uie heroine ; — which she was not, however, and was furious at the supposition. This occurred in Switzerland, in the summer of 1816, and the last season in which I ever saw that celebrated person. "I have a request to make to my friend Alfred, (since he has not disdained the title,) viz. that he would conde- scend to add a cap to the gentleman in the jacket, — it would complete his costume, — and smooth his brow, which is somewhat too inveterate a likeness of the original, God help me ! 11 1 did well to avoid the wa'er-party, — why, is a myste- ry, which is not less to be wondered at than all my other lysteries. Tell Milor that I am deep in his MS., and will do him justice by a diligent perusal. B The letter which I enclose I was prevented from tending, by my despair of its doing any good. I was per- fectly sniicr'.- when I wrote it, and am so still. But it is difficult for me to withstand the thousand provocations on that subject, which both friends and foes have for seven years been throwing m the way of a man whose feelings were once quick, and whose temper was never patient. Bui ' returning were as tedious as go o'er.' I feel this as much as ever Macbeth did ; and it is a dreary sensation, which at least avenges the real or imaginary wrongs of one of the two unfortunate persons whom it concerns. " But I am noing to be gloomy ; — so, 'to bed, to bed.' Good night, — or rather morning. One of the reasons why I wish to avoid society is, that I can never sleep after it, and 'he pleasanter it has been, the less I rest. "Ever most trulv.&c. &c." LETTER DLXXXVIL* TO LADY BYRON. (To the care of the Hon. Mrs. Leigh, London. ) "Pisa, Nov. 17, 1821. " I have to acknowledge the receipt of * Ada's hair, which is very soft and pretty, and nearly as dark already as mine was at twelve years old, if I may judge from what I recollect of some in Augusta's possession, taken at that age. But it do n't curl, — perhaps from its being let grow. K I also thank you for the inscription of the dale and name, and I will tell you why ; — I believe that they are the only two or three words of your handwriting in my possession. For your letters I returned, and except the two words, or rather the one word, 'Household,' written twice in an old account-book, I have no other. I burnt your last note, for two reasons : — lstly, it was written in a style not very agreeable ; and, 2dly, I wished to take your wor 1 « ithout documents, which are the worldly resources of suspicious people. a I suppose that this note will reach you somewhere about Ada's birthday — the 10th of December, I believe. She will then be six, so that in about twelve more I shall, have some rhance of meeting her ; — perhaps sooner, if I am obliged to go to England by business or otherwise. Recollect, however, one thing, either in distance or near- ness ; — everyday which keeps us asunder should, after so long a period, rather soften our mutual feelings, which must alwavs have one rallying-point as long as our child exists, winch I presume we both hope will be long after either of her parents. M The time which has elapsed since the separation, has been considerably more than the whole brief period of our union, and the not much longer one of our prior acquaintance. We both made 'a bitter mistake ; but now it is over, and irrevocably so. For, at thirty-three on my part, and a f-w years less on yours, though it is no verv extended period of life, still it is one when the habits and thought are generally so formed as to admit of no modifi- cation; and as we could not agree when younger, we should with difficulty do so now. " I say ail this, because I own to vou that, notwith- standing every thing, I considered our reunion as not impossible for more than a year after the separation ;— but then I gave up the hope entirely and for ever. But this very impossibility of reunion seems to me al least a reason why, on all the few points of discussion which can arise between us, we should preserve the courtesies of life, and as much of its kindness as people who are never to meet may preserve, perhaps more easily than nearei * Adoltibt, by M. Benjamin ConsUjit. 1 Knc'owl in Leller 582. I.KTTERS, 1823. ilments. To you, who arc colder ana more coiiccn- d, I would just hint, that you may sometimes mistake lepth of a cold anger for dignity, and a worse reeling uty. I assure you that I bear you noui (whatever [ 812 connexions. For tttv own part, I am violent, but not malignant ; for only fresh provocations can awaken my resentment*. To you, who are colder and more concen- trated, the depth for duty. I assure you __ may have done) no resentment whatever. Remember, that ■/ you have injured me in aught, tins forgiveness is something; and that, ifl have mjurarlyou,il is something more still, if " be true, as the moralists say, that the most offending are the least forgiving, « Whether the offence ha- been solely on my sid. -, oi reciprocal, or on yours chiefly, 1 have ceased to reflect upon any but two thuigs,— viz. that you arc the mother ol my child, and that we shall never meet again. I think ll you also consider the two corresponding points with rel.-r- (srice |o myself, it will be better for all three. " Yours ever, "Noel Bvron." LETTER DLXXXVIII. TO MR. RLAO.UIERE. "Albaro, April 5, 1823. "dear sir, " I shall be delighted to sec you and your Greek friend ; and the sooner the better. I have been expecting you for some time,— you will find me at home. I cannot ex- press to you how much I feel interested in the cause ; and nothing but the hopes I entertained of witnessing the liberation of Italy itself, prevented me long ago from re- suming to do what little I could, as an individual, in that land which it is an honour even to have visited. u Ever yours, truly, "Noel BvroV LETTER DLXXXIX. TO MR. BOWHISC. •Genoa, May 12, 1823 "SIR, " I have great pleasure in acknowled; and the honour your letter, hich the Committee have done me ; — I shall endeavour to deserve their confidence by every means in my power. My first wish is to go up into the Levant in person, where 1 might be enabled to advance, if not the cause, at least the njcans of obtaining informa- tion which the Committee might be desirous of acting upon ; and my former residence in the country, my fami- liarity with tbe Italian language, (which is there univer- sally spoken, or at least to the same extent as French in the more polished parts of the continent,) and my not total Ignorance of the Romaic, would afford me some ail\ .ul- lages of experience. To tins projc it the only objection IS of a domestic nature, and I shall try to get over it;— if I fail in this, I must do what I can where I am ; but it will be always a source of regret to me, to think that 1 might perhaps have done more fur the cause lie put. "Our last uiformation of Captain Blaquicrc is from Anconn, where be embarked with a fair wind for Corfu, pn the 15fh ult.; he is now probably at his destination My last letter from him personally was dated Rome ; he bad been refused a passport through the Neapolitan ter- ritory, and returned to strike up through Romagna for Ancona: little time, however, appears to have Urn lost by the delay. " The principal material wanted by the Greeks appears lobe, best, a park of field artillery — light, and fit for moun- tain-service; secondly, gunpowder; thirdly, hospital or medical stores. The readiest mode of transmission is. I brnr, by Idra, addressed to Mr. Negri, the minister. J meant to send up a certain quantity of the two latter —no great deal — but enough for an individual to show his good wishes for the Greek success ; but am pausing, because, in case I should go myself, I can take them with me. I do not want to limit my own contribution lo this merely, but tnpjre especially, if I can get to Greece my- self, I should devo(e whatever resources I can muster of my own, to advancing the great object. I am in corre- spondence with Signor Nicolas Karrellas, (well known to Mr. Hobhouse,) who is now at Pisa; but his latest ad- vice merely staled, that the Greeks are at present em- ployed in organizing their internal government, and the us adiiiuustraiioii j this would seem to indicate security, but the war is bow ever far from being terminated. " The Turks are an obstinate race, as all former wars have proved them, and will return to the charge for years to come, even if beaten, as it is to be hoped they w ill be. But in no case can the labours of the Committee b. said to be in vain, for in the event even of the Greeks being subdued and dispersed, the funds which could be em- ployed in succourmg ami gathering together the remnant, so as to alienate in part their distn sees, and enable them to rind or make a country, (as so many emigrants of other nations have been compelled to do,) would bless 'both those who gave and those who took,' as the bounty both of justice and of mercy. " With regard to the formation of a brigade, (which Mr Hobhouse hints at in his short letter of this day's receipt, enclosing the one to which I have the honour to reply,) I would presume to suggest — but merely as an opinion, resulting rather from the melancholy experience of the brieades embarked in the Columbian service, than from any experiment yet fairly tried in Greece — that the at- tention of the Committee hail better perhaps be directed to the employment of officcrsuf experience than the enrol- ment of raw British soldiers, which latter are apt to bo unruly, and not very serviceable, in irregular warfare, by the side of foreigner. A small body of good officers, especially artillery ; an engineer, with quantity (such as the Committee might deem requisite) of stores, o( the nature which Captain Blaquicrc indicated as most wanted would, I should conceive, be a highly useful accession. Officers, also, who had previously served in the Mediter- ranean, would be preferable, as some knowledge of Italian is nearly indispensable. " It would also be as well that they should be aware that they arc not going ' to rough it on a beef-steak and bottle of port,'— but that Greece— never, of late years, very plentifully stocked for a mess — is at present tho country of all kinds ofpriwiboiu. This remark may seem superfluous; but I have been led to it, by observing that many foreign officers, Italian, French, and even Germans, (but i'iuit of the latter,) have returned in disgust, imagin- ing either that Ihey were going up to make a parly ol pleasure, oi to enjoy full pay, speedy promotion, and a ,rv moderate degree of duty. They complain, having been ill received by the Government or inhabi- tants ; but numbers of these complaints were mere adven- turers, attracted by a hope of command and plunder, anil disappointed of both. Those Greeks I have seen stre- nuously denv the charge of inhospitably, and declare that they shared their pittance to the last crumb with their foreign volunteers. "I need not suggest to the Committee the very great advantage which loust accrue to Great Britain from the success "of the Greeks, and. their probable comnn n-ij relations with England in consequence; because 1 feel pot -n -Hi. '.I that the Best object of the Committee is theii BMASCtPATtc-K, without any interested views. But the consideration might weigh with the English people in general, in their present passion for every kind of specu- lation, — they need not cross the American seas, for one much better worth their while, and nearer home. Tbe resources, even for an emigrant population, in tlic Greek LETTERS, 1S23. 213 island alone, are rarely to be paralleled ; and (he cheap- ness of every kind, of not only necessary, but luxury, (that is to say, luxury of nature,) fruits, wine, oil, &e. in a state of peace, are far beyond those of the Cape, and Van Die- man's Land, and the other places of refuge, which the Eng'ish population are searching for over the waters. W I beg that the Commit lee will command me in any and every way. If I am favoured with any instructions, I shall endeavour to obey them to the letter, whether con- formable to my own private opinion or not. I beg leave to add, personally, my respect for the gentleman whom I have die honour of addressing, "And am, sir, your obliged, &c "P. S. The best refutation of Gell will be the active exertions of the Committee ; — I am too warm a contro- versialist ; and I suspect that if Mr. Hobhouse have taken him in hand, there will be little occasion for me to ' en- cumber him with help.' If I go up into the country, I will endeavour to transmit as accurate and impartial an account as circumstances will permit. "I shall write to Mr. Karrellas. I expect intelligence from Captain Blaquiere, who has promised me some early intimation from the seat of the Provisional Government. I gave him a letter of introduction to Lord Sidney Osborne, at Corfu ; but as Lord S. is in the government service, o( course his reception could only be a cautious one." LETTER DXC. TO MR. BOWRINU. "Genoa, May 21, 1823. "sir, "I received yesterday the letter of the Committee, dated the 14th of March. What has occasioned the de- lay, I know not. It was forwarded by Mr. Galignani, from Paris, who stated that ho had only had it in his charge four days, and that it was delivered to him by a Mr. Grattan. I need hardly say that I gladly accede to the proposition of the Committee, and hold myself highly honoured by being deemed wormy to be a member. I have also to return my thanks, particularly to yourself, for the accompanying letter, which is extremely flattering. "Since I last wrote to you, through the medium of Mr. Hobhouse, I have received and forwarded a letter from Captain Blaquiere to mc, from Corfu, which will show now he gets on. Yesterday I fell in with two youn^ Germans, survivors of General Normann's band. They arrived at Genoa in the most deplorable state — without food — without a sou — without shoes. The Austrians had sent them out of their territory on their landing at Trieste : and they had been forced to come down to Flo- rence, and had travelled from Leghorn here, with four Tuscan Hires (about three francs) in their pockets. I have given them twenty Genoese scudi, (about a hundred and thirty-three livres, French money,) and new shoes, which will enable them to get to Switzerland, where they say that they have friends. All that they could raise in Genoa, besides, was thirty sous. They do not complain of the Greeks, but say that they have suffered more since their landing in Italy. "I tried their veracity, Istly, by their passports and papers ; 2dlv, by topography, cross-questioning them about Arta, Argos, Athens, Missolonghi, Corinth, Sue; and, 3*:lly, in Romaic, of which I found (one of them at least) knew more than I do. One of them (they are boUi of good families) is a fine, handsome young fellow of three- and-twenty — a Wirtembergher, and has a look of Sandt about him — the other a Bavarian, older, and flat-faced, and less ideal, but a great, sturdy, soldier-like personage. The Wirtembergher was in the action at Arta, where the Philhellenists were cut to pieces after killing six hundred Turks, they themselves being only a, hundred and fifty in number, opposed to about sLx or seven thousand ; only eight escaped, and of them about three only survived; so that General Nermann l posted his ragamuffins where they were well peppered— not three of the hundred and fifty left alive— and they are for the town's end for life.' " These two left Greece by the direction of the Greeks. When Churschid Pacha overrun the Morea, the Greeks seem to have behaved well, in wishing to save then- allies, when they thought that, the game was up with themselves. This was in September last, (1822:) they wandered from island to island, and got from Milo to Smyrna, where the French consul gave them a passport, and a charitable captain a passage to Ancqna, whence they got to Trieste, and were turned back by the Austrians. They complain only of the minister, (who has always been an indifferent character ;) say that the Greeks fight very well in their own way, but were at Jtrst afraid io fire their own cannon — but mended with practice. "Adolphe (the younger) commanded at Navarino for a short time ; the other, a more material person,' the bold Bavarian in a luckless hour,' seems chiefly to lament a fast of three days at Argos, and the loss of twenty-five paras a day of pay in arrear, and some baggage at Tripolit2a ; but takes his wounds, and marches, and battles in very good part. Both are very simple, full of naivete, and quite unpretending: they say the foreigners quarrelled among themselves, particularly the French with the Ger- mans, which produced duels. " The Greeks accept muskets, but throw away bayonets, and will not be disciplined. When these lads saw two Piedmontese regiments yesterday} they said, 'Ah, if we had had but these two, we should have cleared the Morea. J in that case die Piedmontese must have behaved better than they did against the Austrians. They seem to lay great stress upon a few regular troops — say that the Greeks have arms and powder in plenty, but want victuals, hospital stores, and lint and linen, &c. and money, very much. Altogether, it would be difficult to show more practical philosophy than this remnant of our * puir lull folk' have done ; they do not seem the least cast down, and their way of presenting themselves was as simple and natural as cculd be. They said, a Dane here had told them that an Englishman, friendly to the Greek cause, was here, and that, as they were reduced to beg their way home, they thought they might as well begin ith me. I write in haste to snatch the post. — Believe me, and truly, " Your obliged, &c. P. S. I have, since I wrote this, seen them again. Count P. Gamba asked them to breakfast. One of them means to publish his JournaJ of the campaign. The Bavarian wonders a little that the Greeks are not quite the same with them of the time of Themistocles, (they were not then very tractable, by-the-by,) and at the diffi- culty of disciplining them ; but he is a ' bon homine' and a tacticia, and a little like Dugald Dalgetty, who would insist upon the erection of l a sconce on the hill of Drum- snab,' or whatever it was ; — the oilier seems to wonder at nothing.' 1 LETTER DXCI. TO MR. CHURCH, American Consul m Genoa. "Genoa, May, 1823. B The accounts are so contradictory, as to what mode 11 be best for supplying the Greeks, that I have deemed it better to take up. (with the exception of a few supplies,) what cash and credit I can muster, rather than lay them out in articles that might be deemed superfluous or unne- cessary. Here we can learn nothing but from some of the refugees, who appear chiefly interested for themselves. My accounts from an agent of die Committee, an English gentleman lately gone up to Greece, are hitherto favour- 214 LETTERS, 1823. able, but he had not yet reached the seat of the Pimp sional Government, and I am anxiously expecting further advice. "An American has a better right than any other, to miggest to other nations the mode of obtaining that liberty winch is the glory of his own." LETTER DXCII. TO -M. II. BEVt.E, Rue (Jc Rldiellea, Pari*. 1 < ■■ rjOOj May 29, 1823. "At present, that I know to whom I am indebted for a very Battering mention in the 'Rome, Naples, and Flo- rence, in 1R17, by Mons, Stendhal, 1 it is In that 1 should return my thanks (however undersired <>r undesirable) to JMons. Beyle, wiili uh 1 had the honour of being ac- quainted at Milan in 181G. You only did me too mucl honour in what you were pleased to say in that work; but it has hardly given me less pli a ure than the praise ■ > h.-cniTic at length aware [which I have done by mere accident) that 1 am indebted l"1>, (one of the strongesl how a of the Mediterranean,) and also of Messrs. Ran- som, there is no busine ruin i! .> unfair terms except through English merchants. These, however, have proved both able and willing — and upright, as usual. "ColtM.- 1 Stanhope had arrived, and will proceed imme- ; he shall hare nrj co-operation in all liis endea- vours; but from every thing that I can Lead], theforma- □' iii of a brigade at present will be extremely diffii ult, to Bay ill*- least of it. With regard to the reception of i .i ihts, — at least <>!' t-m'i^n niliei-r.--, — I refer you to a pas sage in Prince Mavrocordato's recent letter, a copy of which is enclosed in my packet sent to the Deputies. Ii is my intention to proceed by sea to Napqli di Romania as soon as 1 have arranged mis business for the Greeks themselves — I mean the advance of two hundred thou- sand piastres for their fleet. "My tune here has r ! tieen i ntircly lost, — as you will perceive by some former documents that any advantage from ni\ tin >< proceeding io the Morca was doubtful. We have at last moved the Deputies, and I have made a strong remonstrance on their divisions to Mavrocordato, which, I understand, was forwarded by the Legislative to the Prince. With a loan they mmy do much, which is all that /, for particular reasons, can say on the subject. "I regrel to hear from Colonel Stanhope that the Com- mittee have exhausted their funds. Is it supposed that a brigade can be firmed without them ? or that three thou- sand pounds would be sufficient? It is true that money will go farther in Greece than in most countries ; but tin- regular force must be rendered a national concern, and paid from a national fund ; and neither individuals nor com- mittees, at least with the usual means of such as now exist, will rind the experiment practicable. u I beg once more to recommend my friend, Mr. Hamilton Browne, to whom I have also personal obliga- tions for his exertions in the common cause, and have the honour to be "Yours very truly." LETTER DXCVIII. TO THE GENERAL GOVERNMENT OF GREECE. ■ I Ii ph. ilonia, November 30, 1823. "The affair of the loan, the expectation so lore.' and vainly indulged of the arrival of the Greek fleet, and the danger to which Missolonghi is still exposed, have detained me here, and will si ill detain me till some of them are removed. But when tin' money shall be advanced for die fleet, I will start for the Evlorea, not knowing, how- ever, <>i \vha1 use my pp-senee can he in the present slate of dungs. We have heard some rumours of new dis- sensions, nay, of the existence of a civil war. With all my heart, I pray that these reports may be false or exag- gerated ; for 1 can imagine no calamity more serious than this ; and I must frankly confess, that unless union and order are established, all hopes of a loan will bo vain; and aJ' the assistance which the Greeks could expect from abvMM — an assistance neither trifling nor worthless — will be suspended or destroyed; and, what is worse, the great powers of Europe, of whom no one was an r-nerny to ( ireere, but seemed to favour her establishment nf an independent power, will be persuaded that the Greeks are unable to govern themselves, and will, per- haps, themselves undertake to settle your disorders in such a way as to blast the brightest hopes of yourselves and of your friends. u Allow rne tc add.once for all, — I desire the well-being 1 ce, and nothing else ; I will do all I can to secure it , hut I rannol const nt. I n vcr will consent, that the Kng- lish public, or English individuals, should l*e deceived as to the real state of Greek affairs. The rest, gentlemen, depends on you. You have fought gloriously; — net honourably towards your f«-l!o\v-eitizens and the wurld, and it will then no more be said, as has been repeated for two thousand years with the Roman historians that Phi- lopoamen was the last of the Grecians. Let not calumny itself (and it is difficult, 1 own, to guard against it in so arduous a struggle) compare the patriot Greek, when resting from his labours, to the Turkish pacha, whom his victories have extermini I pray you in are.pi these my sentiments as a sincere proof i,|' my attachment to your real interests, and to believe that I am, and always shall be, "Yours, fcc." LETTER DXCIX. TO PRINCE MAVROCORDATO. "Cephaloiua, 2, Dec. 1823. "PRIHCfej "The present will he put into your hands by Colonel Stanhope, son of Major General the Ear! of Harrington, &c. &c. He has arrived from London in fifty days, after having visited all the Committees of Germany. He is charged by our Committee to act in concert with me for the liberation of Greece. I conceive that his name and his mission will be a sufficient recommendation, without the necessity of any other from a foreigner, although one who, in common whh all Europe, respects and admires the courage, the talents, and above all, the probity of ! Vfavrocordato. "I am very uneasy al hearing that the dissensions of Greece still continue, and at a moment when she might triumph over every thing in general, as she has already triumphed in part. Greece is, at present, placed between three measures : either to reconquer her liberty, to become in e of the sovereigns of Europe, or to return to a Turkish province. She has the choice only of those three alternatives. Civil war is but a road which leads to the two latter. If she is desirous of the fate of Wala- chifl and the Crimea, she may obtain it to-morrow; if of that of Italy, the day after; but if she wishes to become truly Greece, free and independent, she must resolve to-day, or she will never again have the opportunity. " I am, with all respect, " Your Highnesses obedient servant, "N.B. "P. S. Your Highness will already have known that 1 have sought to fulfil the wishes nf the Greek Govern ment, as much as it lay in my power to do so : but I should wish that the fleet so lone and 10 vainly expected were arrived, or, al least, that it were on the way; and espe- cially that your Highm should approach these parts either on board the fleet, with a public mission, or in some other manner. LETTER DC. TO MR. BOWRINO. u I0bre7, IKS. (< I confirm the above ;* it is certainty mv opinion that Mr. Millingen is entitled to the same salary with Mr. Tindall, and his service is likely to be harder. Hi bi in lodludtti inn letter, forwarded with hi* own, from Mr. Mil- lingen, who mi about tojoln, in hla medleel capacity, the Sulfates, near «■ l oiiifiliUrr m 1 mi Kvn tlemati having mentioned tn bli lettti " u>.>t the retreat ol lha Turk* from bef <•■ Mlaflotonsjbl ><■<■* rendered unneeeeaarj the appearauee uf ihe Greek Beet," Lord Uvron, in a ii«(bou Uiii p-tMNg*, W)'«, " Bj the special pre- LETTERS, 1823- 217 * I have written to you (as to Mr. Hobhouse/ur your perusal) by various opportunities, mostly private; also by the Deputies, and by Mr. Hamilton Browne. " The public success of the Greeks has been considera- ble ; Corinth taken, Missolonghi nearly safe, and some ships in the Archipelago taken from the Turks; but there is Dot onlv dissension in the Morea,but civil war, by the latest accounts;* to what extent we do not yet know, but hope t.iflin : "For six weeks I have oeen expecting the fleet, which has not arrived, though I have, at the request of the Greek Government, advanced — that is, prepared, anu have in hand, two hundred thousand piastres (deducing the commission and bankers' changes) of my own moneys to forward their projects. The Suliotes (now in Acarna- nia) are very anxious that I should lake them under my directions, and go over and put things to rights in the Morea, which, without a force, seems unpracticable ; anJ really, though very reluctant (as my letters will have shown yon) to take such a measure, there seems hardly any l ilder remedy. However, I will not do any thing rashly ; and have only continued here so long in the hope of seeing things reconciled, and have done all in my power thereto. Had I gone sooner, thry would have forced me into one party or other, and I doubt as much now ; but we will do our best. " Yours, &,c.'' LETTER DCI. TO MR. BOWKING. "October 10, 1823. ■Colonel Napier will present to you this letter. Of his military character it were superfluous to speak ; of his personal, I can sav, from my own knowledge, as well as from all public rumour, or private report, that it is as ex- cellent as his military : in short, a better or a braver man is not easily to be found. He is our man to lead a regu- lar force, or to organize a national one for the Greeks. Ask the army — ask any one. He is besides a personal friend of both Prince Mavrocordato, Colonel Stanhope, and mvself, and in such concord with all three that we should all put together — an indispensable, as well as a rare point, especially in Greece at present. "To enable a regular force to be properly organized, it will be requisite for the loan-holders to set apart at least 60,000/. sterling for that particular purpose — perhaps more — but by so doing they will guaranty their own mo- neys, 'and make assurance doubly sure.' They can ap- point commissioners to seo that part properly expended — and I recommend a similar precaution for" the whole. "I hope that the Deputies have arrived, as well as some of my various despatches (chiefly addressed to Mr. Hobhouse) for the Committee. Colonel Napier will tell you the recent special interposition of the gods in behalf of the Greeks — who seem to have no enemies in heaven or on earth to be dreaded, but their own tendency to dis- cord among themselves. But these, too, it is to be hoped, will be mitigated, and then we can take the field on the DftemnVe, instead of being reduced to the petite giterre of defending the same fortresses year after year, and taking a few ships, and starving out a castle, and making more videnee oftheDeiiv, ihe Mussulmans were seized nub a panic, and Bed i hi lea to ihe fleet, which ought to hare heeu here mouths ago, urn! u ise to the eoutrary, lately — at ki.it, unce I had the n* ready to pav." On (mother passage, in which Mr. Millingcn complains that hi* hope ofany remnnerau-.n Iron) ihf Gre.kilin ' turned out perfectly chtmeri- r 1 Byron remarks, in a noi*. "and will do so, till they obtain a lonn. Thevhave not* rap, nor credit (id the inlands) to raise one. A medical man mar succeed heller than othcra , Bill «U ibeae penniless ofhcershadhetlerhaveilaiditi home. Much money may not be required, bn some must." • The Legislative and ExeetltWe bodies having heen for sime time at ■ the latter had ai lenelh reamed to violence, and some aktradlhw bad already ukcu place between the factions. 28 fuss about them than Alexander in his cups, or Buocta- parle in a bulletin. Our friends have done something in the way of the Spartans — (though not one-tenth of whist is told) — but have not yet inherited their style. " Believe me yours, &c» r LETTER DCII. TO Mil. BOWRING. "October 13,1823. "Since I wrote to you on the 10th instant, the long* desired squadron lias arrived in the waters of Missolonght ami intercepted two Turkish corvettes — ditto transports — destroying or taking all four — except some of the crews escaped on shore in Ithaca — and an. unarmed vessel, with passengers, chased into a port on the opposite side of Ce- phalouia. The Greeks had fourteen sail, the Turks four —but ihe odds don't matter — the victory will make a cry goodpuff\ and be of some advantage besides. I ex- pect momentarily advices from Prince Mavrocordato, who is on board, and has (I understand) despatches from the Legislative for me ; in consequence of which, after paying the squadron, (lor which I have prepared, and am preparing,) I shall probably join him at sea or on shore. " I add the above communication to my letter by Col. Napier, who will inform the Committee of every thing in detail much better than I can do. The mathematical, medical, and musical preparations of the Committee have arrived, and in good condition, abating some damage from- wet, and some ditto from a portion of the letter-press being spilt in landing — (I ought not to have omitted the press— but forgot it a moment — excuse the same) — they are excellent of their kind, but till we have an engine sr and a trumpeter (we have chirur- geons already) mere 'pearls to swine, 1 as the Greeks are quite ignorant of mathematics, and have a bad ear for our music The maps, &c. I will put into use for them, and take care that all (with proper caution) are turned to the intended uses of the Committtee — but I refer you to Co- luncl Napier, who will tell you, that much of your really valuable supplies should be removed till proper persons arrive to adapt them to actual service. " Believe me, my dear sir, to be, &c. "P.S. Private. — I have written to our friend Douglas Kmnaird on my own matters, desiring him to send me out all Ihe further credits I can command, — and I have a year's income, and the sale of a manor besides, he tells me, before me, — for till the Greeks get their loan, it is probable that I shall have to stand partly paymaster — as far as I am ' good upon Change? that is to say. I pray you to repeat as much to him, and say that I must in the interim draw on Messrs. Ransom most formidably. To say the truth, I do not grudge it, now the fellows have be- Sim to fight again— and still more welcome shall they be if they will go on. But they have had, or are to have, some four thousand pounds (besides some private extra- ordinaries for widows, orphans, refugees, and rascals of all descriptions) of mine at one 'swoop;' and it is to be expected the next will be at least as much more. And how can I refuse it if they will fight? — and espe- cial lv if I should happen ever to be in their company ? I therefore request and require that you should apprize my trusty and trustworthy trustee and banker, and crown and <=heet anchor, Douglas Kinnaird the Honourable, that ho prepare all moneys of mine, including the purchase-mo- ney of Rochdale' manor and mine income for the year ensuing, A. D. 1824, to answer, or anticipate, any orders or drafts of mine for the good cause, in good and lawful money ofGreat Britain, &c. &c. May you live a thou- sand years ! which is 999 longer than the Spanish Cortc* Constitution." 218 LETTERS, 1823. LETTER DCIII. TO THE HONOURABLE MX. DOUGLAS XIXXAIHD. "Cephalonia, Dec. 23, 1823. "I shall be as saving of mv purse and person as you recommend, but you know that it is as well to be in rea- diness with one or both, in the evenl of eithei being required. " I presume that some agreement has been concluded with Mr. Murray about ' Werner.' Althou -h the copy- right should only be worth Two or three hundred pounds, I will tell you what can be done with them. For three hundred pounds I ran maintain in Greece, ai more than the fullest pay of the 1'rovi i« xr their service. I had (besides personal property to the amount of about 5000 more,) 8000 dollars in specie of my own, without reckoning the Committee's stores, so that the Turks will have a good thing of it, if the prize be good. k I regret the detention of Gamba, &c. but the rest we can make up again, so tell Hancock to set my bills into cash as soon as possible, and Corgialegno to prepare the remainder of my credit with Messrs. Webb to be turned into moneys. I shall remain here, unless something ex- traordinary occurs, till Mavrocordato sends, and then go on, and act according to circumstances. My respects to the two colonels, and remembrances to all friends. Tell 1 Ultima Analise\ that his friend Raidi did not make his appearance with the brig, though I think that he might as well have spoken with us in or off" Zante, to give us a gentle hint of what we had to expect. " Yours ever affectionately, "N.B. " P. S. Excuse my scrawl on account of the pen and the frosty morning at daybreak. I write in haste, a boat starting for Kalamo. I do not know whether the deten- tion of the Bombard, (if she be detained, tor I cannot swear to it, and I can only judge from appearances, and what all these fellows say,) be an affair of the Govern- ment, and neutrality, and, &c, — but she was stopped at least 12 miles distant from any port, and had all her papers regular from Zante for Katamo> and we also. I did not land at Zante, being anxious to lose as little time as • A Greek youth whom he had brought with him, In t.it tulle, (Km Cephalonbjt. » Count DeUftdeciiriii, lo whrnn he givei this name In consequence of • bnbii which thai gentleman hud of lulng the phra#e " in uliiina * frequently in coimrjaii.m. 220 LETTERS, 1824. possible, but Sir F. S. came off to invite me, &c. and •vwrvbody was as kind as could be, even in Ceph LETTER DCVIII. TO MR. C. HANCOCK. " Dragomeslri, Jan. 2, 1824. •dear sir ' ancock,'* "Remember me to Dr. Muir and everybody. I have wiill the 16,000 dollars with Hie, the rest v.. ,. OB board the Rombartla. Her'-; we are — the Bombards taken, or at least missing, with all lln- Committee stores, my In. nd Gamba, the horses, negro, hull-dog, steward] and domi b- ti.s, wiill all our implements of peare and war, also 8000 n/«i:»rs; but whether she will be lawful prize or 1)0, i> fat t£»e decision of the Governor of tin- Seven [stands, I have written to Dr. Muir, by way of Kalamo, with all particulars. We are in good condition; and what with wind ami weather, ami being hunted or so, little sleeping on deck, &c. are in tolerable seasoning fur the countrv and circumstances. Bui I foresee thai we shall have occasion for all the cash I can muster at Zante and else- where. Mr. Barnff gave us B000 and (wld dollars ; so there is still a balance in my favour. We are not quite certain that the vessels were Turkish which chased ; but there is strong presumption that thev were, and no news to the contrary. At Zante, even body, from the Resident downwards, were as kind as could bo, especially your worthy and courteous partner. "T. -II our friend-; to kri-;Mip their spirits, ami we mav yet do well. I disembarked the boy and another Greek, who were in most terrible alarm — the boy, at least, from the Morea — on shore near Anatoliko, 1 believe, which put ttiem in safety; and , as tor me and mine, u, must stick hv our goods. " I hope that Gamba's detention will oo!y he temporary. As for the effects and moneys, — it* we have them, well ; if Otherwise, patience. I wish you a happy new year, and all our friends the same. " Yours, Sic." LETTER DCIX. . TO MR. CHARLFS HANCOCK. *Missolongty Jan. 13,1824 * DEAR SIR, "Many thanks for yours of the 5th: ditto to Muir for his. You will have heard that Gamba and mv vessel got out of the hands of the Turks safe and intact; nobody knows well how or whv, for there's a mystery in the story somewhat melodramatic < 'a pi am Valsamaohi lias, i take it, spun a long yarn by this time in ArgOStoti. I attribute theiprelease entirely to Saint Dkmisio, of Zante, and i he Madonna of th<^ Rock, near Cepholonia. "The adventures ol my separate luck were also not finished at Dragomestri -, we were conveyed out by some Greek gunboats, and found the Leonidas brig-o£war at sea to look after us. — But blowing weather coming on, we were driven on the rocks twia m 'In- passage- of the Scrophes, and the dollars had another narrow escape. Two-thirds of the crew not ashore over the bowspirit: the rocks were rugged , nough, but water very deep clOSC in shore, so that she was, after much swearing an. I some exertion, got off again, and away we went with a third of our crew, leaving the rest on a desolate tslan '. where they might have been now, had not one of the gunboats taken " Tliit In nt is, more propcrif, » potlcript tu one whlcfa Dr. Br twi'l, by lib oolcr*. written lo Mr. Hancock, with •oiiir pitrUculari « ilictr VOJWge: »nJ ihe Doctor hnvltie begun him letter. " Prtgintrn. Btajr, iuouck, 1 ' Lord bymu Lliut (jikrotiitm hii mode, of nihirc**.- Moore. them off] for we were in no condition to take them off aim - Tell Muir that Dr. Bruno did not show much fight or the occasion, for besides stripping to his flannel waistcoat, and running about like a rat in an emergency, when I was talking to a Greek boy (the brother of the Greek girls in ArgostolO and telling him of the fact that there was no danger for the passengers, whatever there might be for the vessel, and assuring him that 1 could save both him and myself without difficulty] (though he can't swim,) as ihe water, though deep, was not very rough, — the wind not blowing right on shore (it was a blunder of the ' i who missed stays,) the Doctor exclaimed, ' Save /uwt, in- deed ! by G — d! save me rather — I'll be first if I can' — a piece of egotism which he pronounced with such einphatif simpfa i v as to set all who had leisure to hear him luugh- g, and in a minute after the vessel drove off again after twice. She sprung a small leak, but nothing fur- ther happened, except that the captain was very nervous afterward. w To be brief, we had bad weather almost always, though not contrary ; slept on deck in the wet generally t. i -., ■.. n or eight nights, but never was in better health (I speak personally) — so much so, that I actually bathed for a quarter of an hour on tin evening of 'he fourth instant in the sea (to kill the fleas, and other &c.) and was all the better for It. ■ We were received at Missotoughi with all kinds of kindness and honours ; and the sight of the fleet saluting, &c. and the crowds and different costumes, was really picturesque. We think of undertaking an expedition soon, and I expect to be ordered with the Suliotea to join the army. "All well at present. We found Gamba already arrived, and every thing in good condition. Remember me to all friends, "Yours ever; "N.B. "P. S. You will, I hope, use every exertion to realize the assets. For besides what I have already advanced, 1 have undertaken to maintain the Suliotea tor a year, (and will accompany them, either as a Chief, or whichever » most a.Mi - ahl-- to the Government,) besides sundries. 1 do not understand Brown's 'letters of credit? I neither gave nor ordered a letter of credit that I know of; and though of eoitrse, if ymi have dote.- it, I will be responsi- bly 1 was not aware of any thing except thai I would Save backed his bills, which you said was unnecessary. As to orders — I ordered nothing but some red clotit and oUetothti both of which I am ready to receive; but if Gamba has exceeded my commission, the other things must be sen! baek,for I cannot permit any tiling of the kind, iiotviH. The servants' journey will of course be paid i ir, i! gh thai is exorbitant. As for Brown's letter, I do not know any thing more than I have said, and I i cannot defray the charges of half Greece and the Frank adventures besides. Mr. Uartr must send us some dol- lars soon, tor the expenses fall on me for the present. "January 14, 1824. "P. S. Will you tell Saint (Jew) Geronimo Corgial* --noil, at I mean to draw for the balance of my credi' with Messrs. Webb and Co. I shall draw for two thou- sand dollar*,) that being about the amount, more or less ;) hut to facilitate the business, I shall make the draft paya- ble also at Messrs Ransom and Co., Pall-Mall East, Lond >n. 1 believe I already shewed yon my letters, (but it' not, 1 have them to show,) by which, besides the credits now realizing, von will have perceived that I am not limited to any particular amount of credit with my bank- The Ibn tumble Douglas, my friend and trustee, is a principal partner in that house, and having the dirccuon of my affairs, is aware In what extent my present resour- go, and the letters in question were from him. I can merely sav»that within the current year, 1824, besides LETTERS, 1824. 221 the money already advanced to the Greek Government, and the credits now in your hands and your partner's (Mr. Bart!;) which are all from the income of 1823,1 have anticipated nothing from that of the present year hitherto. 1 shall or ought to have at my disposition upwards of one hundred thousand dollars, (including my income, and the piirchase-monevs of a manor lately sold,) and perhaps more, without infringing on my income for 1825, and not including ihe remaining balance of 1823. " Yours ever, "N.B." LETTER DCX. TO MR. CHARLES HANCOCK. " Missolnnghi, Jan. 17, 1824. ■ 1 have answered, at some length, your obliging letter, # and trust that you have received iny reply by means of Mr. TinJal. I will also thank you to remind Mr. Tindal that I would thank him to furnish you, on my account, with an order of the Committee for one hundred dollars, which I advanced to him on their account through Signor Corgialegno's agency at Zante on his arrival in October, as it is but fair that the said Committee should pay their own expenses. An order will be sufficient, as the money might be inconvenient for Mr. T. at present to disburse. "I have also advanced to Mr. Blackett the sum of fifty dollars, which I will thank Mr. Stevens to pay to you, on my account, from moneys of Mr. Blackett, now in his hands. I have Mr. B.'s acknowledgment in writing. "As the wants of the Sta'e here are still pressing, and there seems very little specie stirring except mine, I still stand paymaster, and must again request you and Mr. BarfT to forward by a safe channel (if possible) all the dollars yon can collect on the bills now negotiating. I have also written to Corsialegno for two thousand dollars, being about the balance of my separate letter from Messrs. Webb and Co., making the bills also payable at Ransom's in London. " Things are going on better, if not well ; there is some order, and considerable preparation. I expect to accom- pany the troops on an expedition shortly, which makes me particularly anxious for the remaining remittance, as 'money is the sinew of war,' and of peace, too, as far as I can see, for I am sure there would be no peace here without it. However, a little does go a good way, which is a comfort. The Government of the Morea and of Candia have written to me for a further advance from my own peculium of 20 or 30,000 dollars, to which I demur for the present, (having undertaken to pay the Suhotes as a free gift and other things already, besides the loan which I have already advanced,) till I receive letters from Eng- land, which I have reason to expect. " When the expected credits arrive, I hope uSat you will bear a hand, otherwise I must have recourse to Malta, whicn will be losing time and tailing trouble ; but I do not wish you to do more than is perfectly agreeable to Mr. BarrT and to yourself. I am very well, and have no reason to be dissatisfied with my personal treatment, or with the posture of public affairs — others must speak for themselves. "Yours ever and truly, &c. ° P. S. Respects to Colonels Wright and Duffie, and the officers civil and military ; also to my friends Muir und Stevens particularly, and to Delladecima." LETTER DCXI. TO MR. CHARLES HANCOCK. " Missolonghi, Jan. 19, 1824. ■Since I wrote on the 17th, I have received a letter from Mr. Stevens, enclosing an account from Corfu, which is so exaggerated in price and quantity, that 1 am at a loss whether most to admire Gamba's folly, or the merchant's knavery. All that / requested Gamba to order was red cloth, enough to make a jacket, and some oil-skin fur trousers, &c. — the latter has not been sent— the whole could not have amounted to 50 dollars. The account is 645! !! I will guaranty Mr. Stevens against any loss, of course, but I am not disposed to take the arti- cles, (which I never ordered,) nor to pay the amount. I will take 100 dollars worth ; the rest may be sent back, and I will make the merchant an allowance of so much per cent. ; or it" that is not to be done, you must sell the whole by auction at what price the tilings may fetch, for I would rather incur the dead loss of part, than be encum- bered with a quantity of things, to me at present super- fluous or useless. Why, I could have maintained 300 men for a month f >r the sum in Western Greece ! " When the dogs, and the dollars, and the negro, and the horses, fell into the hands of the Turks, I acquiesced with patience, as you may have perceived, because it was the work of the elements of waf, or of Providence ; but this is a piece of mere human knavery or folly, or both, and I neither can nor wilt sdbmil to it. I have occasion for every dollar I can muster to keep the Greeks together, and I do not grudge any expense for the cause ; but to throw away as much as would equip, or at least maintain, a corps of excellent ragamuffins with arms in their hands, to furnish Gamba and the doctor with blank bills, (see list,) broadcloth, Hessian boots, and horsewhips, (the latter I own that they have richly earned,) is rather beyond my endurance, though a pacific person, as all the world knows, or at least my acquaintances. I pray you to try to help me out of this damnable commercial speculations of Gamba's, for it is one of those pieces of impudence or folly which I do n't forgive him in a hurry. I will of course see Stevens free of expense out of the transac- tion ; — hy-the-way, the Greek of a Corfiote has thought proper to draw a bill, and get it discounted at 24 dollars ; if I had been there, it should have hcen protested also. "Mr. Blackett is here ill, and will soon set out for Cephalonia. He came to me for some pills, and I gave him some reserved for particular friends, and which I never knew any body recover from under several months; but he is no belter, and what is odd, no worse ; and as tho doctors have had no better success with him than I, he goes to Argostoli, sick of the Greeks and of a constipa- tion. ■• I must reiterate my request for specie^ and that speed- ily, otherwise public affairs will be at a stand-still here. I have undertaken to pay the Suliotes for a year, to advance in March 3000 dollars, besides, to the Govern- ment for a balance due to the troops, and some other smaller matters for the Germans, and the press &c. &c. &c. ; so what with these, and the expenses of my suite, which, though not extravagant, is expensive with Gamba's d — d nonsense, I shall have occasion for all the moneys I can muster, and I have credits wherewithal to face the undertakings, if realized, and expect to have more soon. u Believe me ever and truly yours, &c." LETTER DC XII. to * + + * > " Missolonglii, Jan. SI, 1824. "The expedition of about two thousand men is planned for an attack on Lepanto ; and for reasons of policy with regard to the native Capitani, who would rather be (nomi- nally at least) under the command of a foreigner, than one of their own body, the direction, it is said, is to bo given to me. There is also another reason, which is, that if a capitulation should take place, the Mussulmans might 222 LETTERS, 1824. perhaps, rather have Christian faith will a Frank than with a Greek, and so be inclined to accede apoinl or two These appear to ho the mosl obvious motives lor sun b an appointment, aa Ear as I can conjecture, unless there be one reason more, viz. that, ui no one else (not even Mavrocordato himself) seems i accept such a nomination — and tlrough my desires are as far as my desert upon das oeeasion, I do not decline it, being willing to Ho as 1 am bidden ; ami as 1 pay a considerable part of the clans, 1 may as well see what they are likely to do for their DOOnOJ J besides I am tired of hearing nothing but talk. + * * * "I presume] from the retardment, thai he* is the same Parry who attempted the North Pote^ and is (it maj be supposed) now essaying tlie South* LETTER DCXIII. TO MR. CHARLES HAW 0) E. "Missolonghi, Feb. 5, 1824. *l>r. Muirs letter ami yours o£ the 2Sd reached me some days ago. Tell Muir. that I am glad ol bis promo- tion for his sake, and of his remaining near us for all our sakes: though I cannot hut regret Dr. Kennedy's depar- ture, which accounts for the previous earthquakes and the present English weather in this climate. With all respect to my medical pastor, I have to announce to him, that among other firebrands, our firemasier Parry (just landed) has disembarked an elect blacksmith, intrusted with three hundred and twenty-two Greek Testaments. I have given him all facilities m my power for his works spiritual and temporal, and if lie can settle matters as i with the Greek Archbishop and hieraehy, I trust that neither the heretic, nor the supposed skeptic will be accused of intolerance. B By-the-way, I met with the said Archbishop at Anato- Uco (where I went by invitation of the Primates afew d ago, and was received with a heavier cannonade than the Turks, probably) for the second tune, (I had known him here before;) and he and P. Mavrocordato, and the Chiefs and Primates and I, all dined together, and I .nought the metropolitan the merriest of the party, and a very good Christian for all that. But Gamba (we got wet through in our way back) has been ill with a fever and colic ; and Luke has been out of sorts too, and so have some others of the people, and I have been very well, — except that I caught cold yesterday with swearing too much in the rain at the Greeks, who would not bear a hand in landing the Committee stores, and nearly spoiled our combustibles; but I turned out in person, and made such a row as set them in motion, blaspheming al them from the Government downwards-, till they actually did some part of what they ought to have done several days before, and this is esteemed, as it deserves to be, a wonder. H Tell Muir that, notwithstanding his remonstrances, which I receive thankfully, it is perhaps best that I should advance with the troops ; for if we do ool do something soon, we shall only have a third year ofdefeti-ive opera- tions and another siege, and all that. We hear that the Turks are coming down in force, and sooner than usual ; and as these fellows do mind me a lutle, it is the opinion that I should go, — firstly, because they will sooner listen to a foreigner than one of Uieir own people, out of native jealousies ; secondly, because the Turks will sooner treat or capitulate (if such occasion should happen) with B Frank than a Greek; and, thirdly, because nobody else seems disposed to take the responsibility — Mavrocordato being very busy here, the foreign military men too young *>r not of authority enough to be obeyed by the natives, ' r«i-ry who h jrl been long expected with miliary, &e and the Cliicfs (as aforesaid) inclined to obey any one ; .or rather than, one of their own body. As for me I am willing to do what 1 am bidden, and to follow my instructions. I neither seek nor shun ihat nor any thing may wish me to attempt; and as for personal safety, besides that it ought not to be a consideration, 1 take it Hi. i ; a man is on die whole as safe in one place as another ; and, af er ail, he had better end with a bullet than bark ir. his body. If we are not taken off With the aword, we art.' like to march off with an ague in this mud- lia ket ; and to conclude with 1 verv had pun, to the car rather than to the eye, better martially t than marsh-ally ; — the situation of Missolonghi is not unknown to you. The dykes of Holland when broken down are the Deserts of Arabia for dryness, in comparison. "And now for the sinews of war. I thank you and Mr. Barfffbr your ready answer's, which, next to ready money, ..[ .: I in.-. Besides die assets, and balance, and die relics of the Corgialegno correspondence with Leg- I and Genoa, (I sold die dog Hour, tell him, but not at bis price,) I shall request and require, from the beginning of.Mj.reh ensuing, about five thousand dollars every two months, i. e. about twenty-five thousand within the cur- rent year, at regular intervals, independent of die sums now negotiating, I can show- you documents to prove thai these are considerably witlun my supplies for the year in re ways than one ; but I do not like to tell the Greeks exai Ely what I could or would advance on an emergency, because, otherwise, they will double and triple their de- mands, (a disposition diat they have already sufficiently shown;) and though I am willing to do all lean matt accessary, yet I do not see why they should not help a little, for they are not quite so bare as they pretend to be by some accounts. Feb. 7, 1824. " I have been interrupted by the arrival of Parry, and aft) rward by the return of Hesketh, who has not brought an answer to mv epistles, which rather surprise me. You will write soon I suppose. Parry seems a fine rough subject, but will hardly be ready for the field these three wei ks; he and I will (I think) be able to draw together — at least / will not interfere with or contradict him in his own department. lie complains grievously of the mer- cantile and enthusymusy part of the Committee, but greatly praises Gordon and Hume. Gordon would have givea three or four thousand pounds and come out htmsdj\ but ECenrn lyoc somebody eke disgusted him, and thus they have spoiled part of their subscription and cramped their operatijns. Parry says Bowring is a humbug, to which I say nothing. He sorely laments the printing and civi- Ii/uil' expenses, and wishes that there was not a Sunday- school in the world, or any school here at present, save and excepl always an academy for artillery ship. "lie complained also of the cold, a little to my surprise tirstlv, because, there being no chimneys,! have used my self to do without ottu-r warmth Uian the animal heat and one's cloak, in these parts; and second! y, because I should as soon have expected to bent ■ ixacaso Been, as a Srs- mastcr (who is lo burn a whole Beet) exclaim against the < re. I fully expected that his very approach would have scorched up the town like the burning-glasses of Archimedes. ? \\VI1, it seems that I am to be Commander-in-chief, and the post is by no means a sinecure, for we are not what Major Sturgeon calls 'a set of the most amicable officers.' Whether we shall have a 'boxing bout between < !aptain Sheers and the Colonel,' I cannot tell ; but, b - Cween Suliote chiefs, German barons, Enghsh volunteers, and adventurers of all nations, we are likely to form as goodly an alUed army as ever quarrelled beneath the sumo banner. Feb. 8, 1824. a Interrupted again by business yesterday, and it is time conclude mv letter." I drew some lime since on Mr LETTERS, 1824 223 BarfF fur a thousand dollars, to complete some monej wanted bv the government. The said Government got cash on that bill here and at a profit ; but the very same fellow who gave it to them, after proposing to give me money for o:her bills on Bar:!' to the amount of thirteen hundred dollar?, either could not, or thought better of it. I had written to BarfT advising him, but had afterward to write to tell him of the fellow's having not come up to time. You must really send me the balance soon. I have the artillerists and my Suliotes to pay, and Heaven knows what besides, and as even - thing depends upon punctuality, all our operations will be at a stand-still un- less you use despatch. I shall send to Mr. BartFnrtn you further bills on England for three thousand pound?, to be negotiated as speedily as you can. I have already stated here and formerly the sums I can command at home within the year, — without including my credits, or the bills already negotiated or negotiating, as Corgialeg- no's balance of Mr. AVebb's letter, — and my letters from my friends (received by Mr. Parry's vessel,) confirm what I have alrea.iv stated. How much I may require in the course of the year I can't tell, but I will take care thai it shall not exceed the means to supply it. . " Yours every "N.B. a P. S. I have had, by desire of a Mr. Jerostati, to draw- on Demetrius Delladccima (is it our friend in ultima ana- lise ?) to pay the Committee expenses. I really do not understand what the Committee mean by some of their freedoms. Parry and I get on very well hitherto; how long this may last, Heaven knows, but I hope it will, for ;i good deal for the Greek service depends upon it, but he has already had some miffs with Col. S. and I do all I can to keep the peace among them. However, Parry is a fine fellow, extremely active, and of strong, sound, practical talents, by all accounts. Enclosed are bills for three thou- sand pounds, drawn in the mode directed, (i. e. parcelled out in smaller bills.) A good opportunity occuring for Cephalonia to send letters on, I avail myself of it. lle- member me to Stevens, and to all friends. Also my compliments and every thing kind to the colonels and officers. "February 9, 1824. U P.S. 2d or 3d. I have reason to expect a person from England directed with papers (on business) for me to sign, somewhere in the islands, by-and-by ; if such should arrive, would you forward him to me by a safe convey- ance, as the papers regard a transaction wiih regard to the adjustment of a lawsuit, and a sum of several thou- sand pounds, which I, or my bankers and trustees for me, may have to receive (in England) in consequence. The time of the probable arrival I cannot state, but the date of my letters is the 2d Nov. and I suppose that he ought to arrive soon." die cause of Greece will be to me one of the happiest events of my life. In the mean time, with the hope of our again meeting, " 1 am, as ever,&.c." LETTER DCXIV. TO ANUREW I.ONDO.* " DEAR FRIEND, "The sight of your handwriting gave me the greatest pleasure. Greece has ever been for me, as it must be for all men of any feeling or education, the promised land of valour, of the arts, and of liberty; nor did the time I pawed in my youth in travelling among her ruins at all chill my affection for the birthplace of heroes. In addi- tion to this, I am bound to yourself by ties of friendship and gratitude for the hospitality which I experienced from you during my stay in that country, of which you are now become one of the first defenders and ornaments. To eee myself serving, by your side and under your eyes, in LETTER DCXV. TO HIS HIGHNESS YUSSCFF PACHA. "Missolonghi,23d Jan. 1824. " HIGHNESS ! "A vessel, in which a friend and some domestics of mine were embarked, was detained a few days ago and I trj order of your Highness. I have now to thank von ; n A f r libera ing the vessel, which, as carrying a neutral Rag, and being under British protection, no one had a righl to detain; but tor having treated my friends with ?o much kindness while they were m your hands. " In ihe hope, therefore, that it may not be altogether displeasing to your Highness, I have requested the gover- nor of this place to release four Turkish prisoners, and he has humanely consented to do so. I lose no time iherefore, in sending them back, in order to make as early a return as I could for your courtesy on the late occasion. These prisoners are liberated without any conditions: but, should the circumstance find a place in your recollec- tion, I venture to beg, that your Highness will treat such Greeks as may henceforth fall into your hands with hu- manity ; more especially since the horrors of war are sufficiently great in themselves, without being aggravated by wanton cruelties on eiUier side. "Noel Byron. 11 LETTER DCXVL TO MR. BARFF. Feb. 2't. u l am a good deal better, though of course weakly the leeches took too much blood from -my temples the day after, and there was some difficulty in stopping it, but I have since been up daily, and out in boats or on horse- bark. To-day I have taken a warm bath, and live as temperately as can well be, without any liquid but water and without animal food. 1 Besides the four Turks sent to Patras, I have ob- tained the release of four-and* twenty women and children, and sent them at my own expense to Prevesa, that (he English Consul -General may consign them to their rela- tions. I did this by their own desire. Matters here aro a little embroiled with the Suliotes and foreigners, &c. but I still hope better things, and will stand by the cause as long as my health and circumstances will permit me to be supposed useful.* " I am obliged to support die Government here for tho present." [The prisoners mentioned in this letter as having been released by him and sent to Prevesa had been held in captivity at Missolonghi since the beginning of the Revo- lution. The following was the letter which he forwarded with them to the English Consul at Prevesa.] LETTER DCXVII. TO MR. MAYER. " SIR, * One of the Greek chiefs. "Coming to Greece, one of my principal objects wa* to alienate as much as possible the miseries incident lo • In a letter lo the »ame gentleman, 'tilled January 27, he had alread/ •aid, " I hope thru things her* will goon wellaotna tunc <>rothu. I wil nick by ihc can** n* long n»a cnw c tin*— first nr atcoiid." 224 LETTERS, I8XI. a warfare so cruel as the present. When the dictates "1" numaniiy are in question, 1 I iw nodifierence between Turks and Greeks. It is <■ igh thai those who wan) e are mm, in order to claim the pity ami protec- tion of the meanest pretender to humane feelings. I b&vefbui ■, . I including women and chi Iren, who have long pined in distress, far from the means of support and the consolations of their home. The Government has consigned them tome: I transmit them to Prevesa, whither they di in I hope you will not object to take care thai I . ma} be restored to a place of safety, and that the I low roar of your town may accept of my present. The best recompense I can hope for would he to til td that I had inspired the Ottoman commanders with the Baine sentiments towards those un- happy Greeks who may hereailei fall in'" their hands. "I beg you to believe me, &c." LETTER DCXVIII. TO THE HONOURABLE DOUGLAS KINNAIRD. "Missol letn, Feb. 21, 1824. u l have received nirs of the 2d of November. It is essential that the money should he paid, as 1 have drawn for it all, and more too, to help thet rreeks. Parry is here, and he and I agree very well; and all is going on hope- fully fur the present, considering circumstances. u We shall have work this year, for the Turks are com- ing down in force; and, as for me, I must stand by the cause. I shall shordy march (according to order-;) against I.epanto, with two thousand men. I have been here some time, after some narrow escapes from the Turks, and also from being shipwrecked. We were twice upon the rocks, but tins you Will have heard, truly or falsely, through other channels, and I do not wish to bore you with '.t long story "So far I have succeeded in supporting the Govern- ment of Western Greece, which would Otherwise have been dissolved. If you have received the eleven thou- sand and odd pounds, these, with what I have in baud, and my income fur the current year, to say nothing of contingencies, will, or might, enable me to keep the 'smews nfwar 1 properly strung. If the deputies be honest fellows, and obtain the loan, they will repay the 40001. as agreed upon; and even then I shall save little, or indeed leas than little, smcc I am maintaining nearly tie' whole machine — in this place, at least — at my own cost. But lei the Greeks only succeed, and I don't care for myself * I have been very seriously unwell, but am getting bet- ter, and can ride about again: so pray quiet our friends on that score. ■ It is not true that I ever d'ul, uill, would, could) or should write a satire against * iiilbrd. or n hair of his bead. 1 always considered him as my literary father, and myself as )ns 'prodigal sou;' and if I have allowed his 'fatted calf to grow to an ox before he kills it on my return, it is oulv because I prefer beef to . d. * Yours, &c." LETTER IK' XIX. TO MR. BAHi'F. a February 23. ■My health seems improving especially from riding and the warm bath. Six Englishmen will be soon in quarantine at Zante ; they are artificers, and have bad enough of Greece in fourteen days. If you could re- eornrnend ibein to a passage borne, 1 would lb;inl, v.m ; they are good men enough, but do not quite understand •die little discrepanies in these countries, and ore not used shooting and slashing in a domestic quiet way, or \*« it forms here) a part of housekeeping. " If they should want any tiling during their quarantine, you can advance them not more than a dollar a day (among them) for that period, to purchase them some little extras as comforts, (as they are quite out of their element.) I cannot afford them more at present." LETTER DCXX. TO MR. Ml'KRAY. ■ Missolonghi, Feb. 25, 1824. [ I have heard from ."\lr. I>ouglas Kinnaird that you stale ' a report of a satire on Mr. Gi fiord having arrived from Italy, said to be written by mc ! but that you do not believe it. 1 I dare say you do not, nor anybody else, I should think. Whoever asserts thai I am the author or abettor of any thing of the kind on Gffibrd lies in his throat If any sut h composition exists ii is none of mine. You know as well as anybody upon whom 1 have or havo not written; and you also know whether they do or did not deserve that same. And so much for such matters. ■ You will perhaps be anxious to hear some news from this part of Greece, (which is the most liable to mvasjon*) but you will hear enough through public and private channels. I will, however, give you the events of a week, mingling my own private peculiar with the public, for we are her- a little jumbled together at present. "On Sunday (the loth, I believe,) 1 had a strong and sudden convulsive attack] which left me speechless, though not motionless — for some strong nun could not hold me ; but whether it was epilepsy, catalepsy, cachexy, or apo- plexy, or what other exy or cpsy, the doctors have not decided ; or whether it was spasmodic or nervous, &c. ; but it was very unpleasant, and nearly carried me off] and all that. On .Monday, they put leeches to my tem- ples, no difficult matter, but the blood could not be stopped till eleven at night, (they had gone too near the temporal artery for my temporal safety,) and neither styptic nor caustic would cauterize the orifice till after a hundred attempts. "On Tuesday, a Turkish brig of war ran on shore. ( in Wednesday, greal preparations being made to attack her, though protected by her CODSOrtS, the Turks bumed her and retired to Patras. On Thursday a quarrel en- sued between the Suliotea and the Frank guard at the arsenal: a Swedish officer was killed, and a Sulioto severely wounded, and a general fight expected, and with some difficulty prevented. On Friday, the officer was buried; and Captain Parry's English artificers mutinied, under the pretence that their lives are in danger, and are for quitting the countrj : — they may. " Gil Satuidav we had the smallest shock of an eartli- quake winch I remember, (and 1 have fell thirty, slighl or smart, at different periods ; they are common m the Mediterranean,) and the whole ant ad their arms, upon the same principle that the savages beat drums, or howl, during an eclipse I the moon; — it was a rare scene altogether — if you had but seen the I Jol nnieS| who had nevei bet n i hi oJ a cot kn< y wt before! — <>r will again, if they can help it — and on Sun- day, we heard Uiat the Vizier is come down to Larissa, with one hundred and odd thousand men. "In coming lure, I had two escapes, one from the Turks (one of my vessels was taken, hut afterward re- leased,) and U^e other from shipwreck. We drove twice on the rocks m ar the Scrophes (islands near the coast.) u I have obtained from the Greeks the release of Sight- and-twenty Turkish prisoners, men, women, and children, and sent them to Patras and Prevesa, at my own charges. One little girl of nine yean old, who prefers remaining with me, I shall (if I live) send, with her mother, pro- bably, to Italy, or to England. Her lame is Halo, or She is b verv pretfv, livelv child. All hetters from vou, and answered both previous to leaving ' 'ephalorda. I have not been 'quiet' in an Ionian island, but much occupied with business, — as the Greek deputies (if arrived) can tell you. Neither have I continued 'Don Juan,' nor any other poem. You go, as usual, I presume, by some newspaper report or other. "When the proper moment to be of some use, arrived, I came here; and am told that my arrival (with some other circumstances) has been of, at least, temporary advantage to the cause. I had a narrow escape from the Turks, and another from shipwreck: on my passage. On the loth (or 16th) of February I had an attack of apoplexy, or epilepsy, — the physicians have not exactly decided which, but the alternative is agreeable. My con- stitution, therefore, remains between the two opinions, like Mahomet's sarcophagus between the magnets. All that I can say is, that they nearly bled me to death, by placing the leeches too near the temporal artery, so that the blood could with difficulty be stopped, even with caus- tic. I am supposed to be getting better, slowly, however. But my homilies will, I presume, for the future, be like the Archbishop of Grenada's — in this case, £ I order you a hundred ducats from my treasurer, and wish you a little more taste. 3 "For public matters I refer you to Col. Stanhope's and Capt. Parry's reports, — and to all other reports whatso- ever. There is plenty to do — war without, and tumult within — they 'kill a man a week,' like Bob Acres iti the country. Parry's artificers have gone away in alarm, on account of a dispute, in which some of the natives and foreigners were engaged, and a Swede was killed, and a Suliote wounded. In the middle of their fright there was a strong shock of an earthquake; so, between that and the sword, they boomed otf in a hurry in despite of all disuasions to the contrary. A Turkish brig ran ashore, &c. &c. &c * u You, I presume, are either publishing or meditating ■ that same. Let me hear from and of you, and believe me,, in all events, " Ever and affectionately yours, "N. B. | u P. S Tell Mr. Murray that I wrote to him the other day, and hope that he has received, or will receive, the letter.* both received at the same time, and one long after its date. I am not unaware of the precarious state of my health, nor am, nor have been, deceived on that subject. But it is proper that I should remain in Greece ; and it were belter to die doing something than nothing. My presence here has been supposed so far useful as to have prevented confusion from Incoming worse confounded, al least for the present. Should 1 become, or be deemed, useless or superfluous, I am ready to retire; but m the interim I am not to consider personal consequences; the rest is in the hands of Providence, — as indeed are all tilings. I shall, however, observe vour instructions, and indeed did so, as far as regards abstinence, for some time past. "Besides the tracts, &c. which vou have sent for dis- tribution, one of the English artificers (hight Brownbill, a tinman) left, to my charge a number of Greek Testa- ments, which I will endeavour to distribute properly. The Greeks complain that the translation is not correct, nor in good Romaic : Bambas can decide on that point. I am trying to reconcile the clergy to the distribution, which (without due regard to their hierarchy) they might con- U ive tu impede or neutralize in the erfed-from their power over their people. Mr. Brownbill has gone to the islands, having some apprehension fur his life, (not from the priests, however,) and apparently preferring rather to be a saint than a martyr, although his apprehensions of becoming the latter were probably unfounded. All the English artifi- cers accompanied him, thinking themselves in danger, on account of some troubles here, wluch have apparently subsided. " I have been interrupted by a visit from Prince Mav rocordato and others since 1 began this letter, and must close it hastily, for the boat is announced as ready to saiL Your future convert, Hato, or Hatagee, appears to mo lively, and intelligent, and promising, and possesses an in- teresting countenance. With regard to her disposition, I can say little, but Millingen, who has the mother (who i3 a middle-aged woman of good character) in his house as a domestic, (although their family was in good worldly circumstances previous to the Revolution,) speaks well o( botli, and he is to be relied on. As far as I know, I have ly seen the child a few times with her mother, and what I have seen is favourable, or I should nut take so much interest in her behalf. If she turns out well, my idea would be to send her to my daughter in England, (if not to respectable persons in Italy,) and so to provide for her as to 'liable her to live with reputation, either singly or in narriage, if she arrive at maturity. I will make proper arrangements about her expenses through Messrs. Barff and Hancok, and the rest I leave to your discretion and to Mrs. K.V, with a great sense of obligation for your kindness in undertaking her temporary superintendence. "Of public matters here, I have little to add to what you will already have heard. We are going on as welt i we can, and with the hope and the endeavour to do better. Believe me, a Ever and truly, &c ,, LETTER DCXXH. TO DR. KENNEDY. "Missolonghi, March 4, 1824. a MV DEAR DOCTOR, * I nave to thank you for your two very kind letters, LETTER DCXXIII. TO MR. BARKF. • Whi^ji omitted here it but ■ repetition of the various particulars, I ill ihat had happened tinea In- uri^nl, which hnvc already a*en gotn in the UlUrt to hit other cflrre>p°"dtula. — Moor«. 29 •March 5, 1824. "If Sisseni* is sincere, he will be treated with, and well treated ; if he is not, the sin and the shame may lie at his own door. One great object is to heal those inter- nal dissensions for the future, without exacting too rigor- • This was tlie Cnpitano of the rich dittrict about Ga lime h Die through you, because he must be sine that in such n case it won!. I eventually be exposed. At am rate, ihe healing of these dissensions is so important a point, that something must bo risked to obtain it." LETTER DCXXIV. TO MR. BAKFF. "March 10. * Enclosed is an answer to Mr. Parruca's letter, and I hope that you will assure him from me, that I have thine and am doing all I can to reunite the Greeks with the Greeks. "I am extremely obliged by your offer of your country house (as for all other kindness) in case that my health should require my removal ; but I cannot quit Greece while there is a chance of my being of any (even sup- posed) utility: — there is a stake worth millions such as I am, and while I can stand at all, I must stand by the cause. When I say this, I am at the same time aware of the difficulties and dissensions, and defects of the Greeks themselves; but allowance must be made for them by all reasonable people. " My chief, indeed nine-tenths of my expenses here are solely in advances to or on behalf of the Greeks, and ob- jects coiuiected with their independence." LETTER DCXXV. no more than two hundred dollars until he should receive instructions from C. Jerostatti. Therefore I am obliged to advance that sum to prevent a positive stop being put to the laboratory service at this place, &c. &c. U I beg you will mention this business to Count Delladecima, who has the draft and every account, and that Mr. Bartf, m conjunction with yourself, will vour to arrange this money account, and, when received, forward the same to Misfiolonghi. " I am, sir, yours very truly. "So far is written by Captain Parry; but I see that I must continue the letter myself. I understand tittle or nothing of the business, saving and except that, like most of the present affairs here, it will be at a stand-Mill if mo- neys be not advanced, ami there are few here su disposed; so that I must take the chance, as usual. " Von will see what ran be done with I >el!adecima and Jerostatti, and remit die sum, that we may have some quiet; for the Comnutt-.- have somehow embroiled their matters, or chosen Greek correspondents more Grecian than ever the Greeks are wont to be. "Yours ever, "Nl.Bn. "P.S. A thousand thanks to Muir for his cauliflower, the finest I ever saw or tasted, and I believe, the largest that ever grew out of Paradise or Scotland. I have writ- ten to quiet Dr. Kennedy about the newspaper, (with which I have nothing to do as a writer, please to recollect and say.) I told the fools of conductors that their motto would play the devil; but, like all mountebanks, they per- sisted. Gamba, who is any tiling but lucky, had some- thing to do with it; and, as usual, the momenl be had, matters went wrong. It will be better, perhaps, in time. But I write in haste, and have only time to say, before tho boat sails, that I am ever " Tours, «N. Bw. B P. S. Mr. Findlay is here, and has received his money." LETTER DCXXVIL TO DR. KENNEDY. TO SR. PARRUCA. "March 10, 1824. SIR, ''I nave (he honour of answering your letter. My first wish has always been to bring the Greeks to agree among < themselves. 1 came here by the invitation of the Greek Government, and I do not think that I ought to abandon Rou m ali for the Peloponnesus uniil that Government shall desire it ; and the more so, as this part a exposed in a greater degree to the enemy. Nevertheless, if my pre- senco can really be of any assistance in uniting two or more parties, I am ready to go any w here, either as a me- diate r, or, if necessary, as a hostage. In these affairs ! have neither private views, nor private dislike of any in- dividual, but the sincere wish of deserving the name of the friend of vour country,and of her patriots. " I have the honour, &c." LETTER DCXXVL TO MR. CHARLES HANCOCK. "Missolonghi, 10th March, 1824. ■IB] a .1 sent by Mr. J. M. Hodges a bill drawn on Signor C. Jerostatti for'three hundred and eighty-six pounds, on account of the Hon. the Greek Committee, for carry in j on the service at this place. But Count Delladecima sent "Missolonghi, March 10, 1624. * DEAR SIR, "You could not disapprove of the motto to the Tele- graph more than I did, and do; but this is the land of liberty, where most people do as they please, and few as they ought. tt I have not written, nor am inclined to write, for that or for any other paper, but have suggested to them, over and over, a change of the motto and style. However, 1 do not think that it will turn out either an irreligious or a levelling publication, and they promise due respect to both churches and things, i. e. the editors do. " If Bainbas would write for the Greek Chronicle, he might have his own price for articles. 11 There is a alight demur about Hato's voyage, her mother wishing to go with her, which is quite natural, and I have not the heart to" refuse it; for even Mahomet made a law, that in the division of captives, the child should never he separated from the mother. But this may make a difference in the arrangement, although the poor woman (who has lost half her family in (he war) is, as 1 said, of good character, and of mature age, so as to render her respectability not liable to suspicion. She has heard, it seems, from Prevesa, that her husband is no longer there. I have consigned vour Bibles to Dr Meyer; and I hope that the said Doctor may justify your confidence ; nevertheless, I shall keep an eve upon him. You may depend upon my giving the society as fair play as Mr. Wilberforce himself would ; and anv LETTERS, 1824. 227 other commission for the good of Greece will meet with the same attention on my part. "I am trying, with some hope of eventual success, to reunite the Greeks, especially as the Turks are expected in force, and that shortly. We must meet them as we uiav, and fight it out as we can. " I rejoice to hear that your school prospers, and I assure you that your good wishes are reciprocal. The weather is so much finer, dial I get a good deal of mode- rate exercise in boats and on horseback, and arn willing to hope that my health is not worse than when you kindly wrote to me. Dr. Bruno can tell you that I adhere to your regimen, and more, for I do not eat any meat, even fish. B Believe me ever, &c. M P. S. The mechanics (six in number) were all pretty much of the same mind. Browubill was but one. Per- haps they are less to blame than is imagined, since Colonel Stanhope is said to have told them, 'that he could not positively say Oirir lives were safe.'' 1 should like to know where our life is safe, either here or any where else ? With regard to a place of safety, at least such hermetically-sealed safety as these persons appeared to desiderate, it is not to be found in Greece, at any rate ; but Missolonghi was supposed to be the place where they would he useful, and their risk was no greater than that of others." LETTER DCXXVIII. TO COLONEL STANHOPE. « Missolonghi, March 19, 1824. K MY dear stanhope, "Prince Mavrocordato and myself will go to Salona to meet Ulysses, and you may be very sure that P. M. will accept any proposition for the advantage of Greece. Parry is to answer for himself on his own articles ; if I were to interfere with him, it would only stop the whole progress of his exertion, and he is really doing all that can be done without more aid from the Government. " What can be spared will be sent ; but I refer you to Captain Humphries^ report, and to Count Gamba's let- ter for details upon all subjects. "In the hope of seeing you soon, and deferring much that will be to be said till then. "Believe me ever, &c. "P. S. Your two letters (to me) are sent to Mr. BarrT, as you desire. Pray remember me particularly to Tre- iawney, whom I shall be very much pleased to see again.' LETTER DCXXIX. TO MR. BARFF. "March 19. "As Count Mercati is under some apprehensions of a direct answer to him personally on Greek affairs, I reply (as viju authorized me) to you, who will have the good- lier to communicate to him the enclosed. It is the joint answer of Prince Mavrocordato and of myself to Signor Georgio Sisseni's propositions. You may also add, both to him and to Parruca, that I am perfectly sincere in desiring the most amicable termination of their internal dissensions, and that I believe P. Mavrocordato to be so also, otherwise I would not act with him, or any other whether native or foreigner. 1 If Lord Guilford is at Zante, or, if he is not, if Signor Tricupi is there, you would oblige me by presenting my respects to one or both, and by telling them, that from the very first I foretold to Col. Stanhope and to P. Ma- vrocodato, that a Greek newspaper (or indeed any other) in the present state of Greece might and probably woull tend to much mischief and misconst ruction, unless under some restrictions, nor have I ever had any thing to do with either, as a writer or otherwise, except as a pecu- niary contributor to their support on the outset, which I could not refuse to the earnest request of the projectors. Col. Stanhope and myself had considerable differences of opinion on this subject, and (what will appear laugh- able enough) to such a degree that he charged me with despotic principles, and I him with ultraradicalism. "Dr. * *, the editor, with his unrestrained freedom of the press, and who has the freedom to exercise an un- limited discretion, — not allowing any article but his own and those like them to pppear, — and in declaiming against restrictions, cuts, carves, and restricts (as they tell me,) at his own will and pleasure. He is the author of an article against monarchy, of which he may have the advantage and fame— but they (the editors) will get themselves into a scrape, if they do not take care, "Of all petty tyrants, he is one of the pettiest, as are most demagogues, that ever I knew. He is a Swiss by birth, and a Greek by assumption, having married a wife and changed his religion. "I shall be very glad, and am extremely anxious for some favourable result to the recent pacific overtures of the contending parties in the Peloponnese." LETTER DCXXX. TO MR. BARFF. "March "If the Greek deputies (as seems probable) have ob- tained the loan, the sums I have advanced may perhaps be repaid ; but it would make no great difference, as I should still spend that in the cause, and more to boot — though I should hope to better purpose than paying off" arrears of fleets that sail away, and Suliotes that won't march, which, they say, what has hitherto been advanced has been employed in. But that was not my affair, but of those who had the disposal of affairs, and I could not decently say to them, ' You shall do so and so, becaus* &C. &C. &C. 1 " In a few days P. Mavrocordato and myselfj with a considerable escort, ml nd to proceed to Salona at the request of Ulysses and the Chiefs of Eastern Greece, and take measures offensive and defensive for the ensuing campaign. Mavrocordato is almost recalled hy the new Government to the Morea (to take the lead, I rather think,) and thev have written to propose to me, to go either to the Morea with him, or to take the gener.u direction of affairs in Uiis quarter — with General Londo, and any other I may choose, to form a council. A. Londo is my old friend arid acquaintance since we were lads in Greece together. It would be difficult to give \ positive answer till the Salona meeting is over,* but I am willing to serve them in any capacity they please, either commanding or commanded — it is much the same to me, as long as I can be of any presumed use to them. "Excuse haste ; it is late, and I have been several hours on horseback in a country so miry after the rains, that every hundred yards brings you to a ditch, of whose depth, width, colour, and contents, both my horses and their riders have brought away many tokens.* LETTER DCXXXL TO MR. BARFF. "March 26. "Since your intelligence with regard to the Greek loan, • To [fill ofTer of the Govern men l to nppoint him Govemor-lii-rteral of Greece (that la, of the enfranchised part of the Continent, with the exception of the Morea and Lite iiiandt,) his bihwit was, l.mi "ho was first going io Salon*, mid ilral afterward he would t>£ m thair Eommaji Li ; (fiat he could hnve no difficulty in accepting any o lice, provided be fuuW nerauade hi until" thai any good wuukf rxmuU from U." — Moore. t29 P. Mavrocordato lias shown to me an extract from BOOM Borrespondf nee of hi-, by whi h il would appear thai three enmnnssh nera are to bo named to uuounl i placed in proper hands for the Bervi ■ OJ > i ■ i mtry, and thai my aame is among the number. Of (his, however, are have as yel only the report. ■This commission is apparently named by the Com- mittee or the contracting parlies in England. 1 am of opinion that such a commission will be necessary] but the office will be both delicate and difficult. The weather, which has lately been equinoctial, has flooded the country, and will probably retard our pr o ceeding to Salona for some days, till the road becomes more practicable. "You were already apprized that P. MavrocoidatQ and myself had been invited to a contt -mice b\ I'lysscs and the Chiefs of Eastern Greece. I hear (and am indeed consulted on the subject) thai incase the remittance of the firs) advance of the loan should not arrive immediately, the Greek General Government mean to try to mist thousand dollars in the islands in the interim, to bt from the earliest instalments on their arrival. What prospect ol success they may have, or on what condi- tions, you can tell better then me: L suppose, if the loan be confirmed) something might be dour bj them, but sub- ject of course to the usual terms. You can let them and me know your opinion. There is an imperious necessity for some national fund, and that speedily, otherwise what is to be done ? The auxiliary corps of about two hundred men paid by me, are, I believe, the sole regularly and pro- perly furnished with the money, due to ihem weekly, and the officers monthly. It is true that the Greek Govern- ment gives their rations, but we have had three mutinies, owing to the badness of the bread, which neither najive nor stranger could masticate (nor dogs either,) and there is still great difficulty in obtaining them even provisions of e-*v kind. • There is a dissension among the Germans about the conduct of the agents of their Committee, and an exami- nation among themselves instituted. What the resuh may be cannot be anticipated, except that it will end in a row, of course, as usual. "The English are all very amicable, as far as I know ; we get on too with the Greeks very tolerably, always making allowance for circumstances ; and we have no juarrels with the foreigners. 8 LETTERS, 1824. LETTER DCXXXII. ***** A PRUSSIAN OFFICER. ■April 1,1824. SIR, 1 have the honour to reply to your letter of this day. In consequence of an urgent, and, to all appearance, a well founded complaint made to me yesterday evening, I gave orders to Mr. Hesketh,* to proceed Eo your quarters with the soldiers of Ins guard, and to remove you from four house to the Seraglio, because the owner ol V'»ur house det tared bun -> If and his Eamirj to be in immediate danger from your conduct, and added that it was not the first time that you had placed them in similar circum- stances. Neither Mr. Hesketh nor myself could imagine that you were in bed, as we had been assured of the contrary, and certainly such a situation was not content- plated. But Mr. Hesketh had positive orders to coo, Inn you from your quarters to those of the Artillery Bi i| the same time being desired to use no violence, nor does it appear that any was had recourse to. This measure was adopted, because your landlord assured nic when 1 proposed to put off the enquiry until the next day, that h could not return to his house Without a guard for hi • Th« Adjutant. protection, and tha* he had left his wife, and daughter and familv 'n tho greatest alarm, and on that sj putting mem under our immediate protection. Tha milted of no delay. As 1 am not aware thu .Mi. Hesketh exceeded his orders, I cannot take any measures to punish him, hut I have no objection to ex- amine minutely into his conduct. You ought to n thai entering into his Auxiliary 4 -reek corps now under my orders, at your own sole n quest and positive desire, you incurred the obligation of obeying the laws ol the country ta wall as those of the semee. "I have the honour, to be, &c. &c. "Noel Bvros." LETTER DXXXIII. TO MR. BARFF. "AprilS. * There is a quarrel, not yet settled, between the - and some of Cariascachi's people, which has aire.: me blows. I keep my people quite neutral; bu* rdered them to !"■ "ii their ^uard. "Some days ago we had an Italian private soldier drummed oul for thieving. The German officers wanted to flog him; but I tlatly refused to permit the use of lh" sink or whip, and delivered him over to the police. Since men a Prussian officer rioted in his lodgings; and I pu*. him under arrest, according to the order. This, it ap- pears, did not please his German confederation: but I shirk by my lexl ; and have given them plainly to under- viand, that those who ilo not rhon.se to be ami laws of the country and service, may retire ; bu! that m all thai 1 have to do, I will see them obeyed by Ebl or native. - 1 wish something was beard of the arrival of part v f the loan, for there is a plenuful dearth of wvry tiling at present." LETTER DCXXXIV. TO MR. BARFF. "April 6. " Since I wrote, we have had some tumult here with the citizens and ( 'anasi a--h's people, and all are under arms, our boys and all. They nearly fired on me and fifty of tin lad.-,* b\ mistake, as we wen- taking our iimiuI ex- cursion into the country. To-day matters area subsiding; but about an hour ago, the father-in-law of the landlord of the house v. here I am lodged (one of the Pri males the said landlord is) was arrested lor high-treason. "They are in conclave siill with IVlavrocordato; and we have a number of new faces from the lull-, come to assist, ihey say. I iunboats and batteries all ready. Stc, "The row has had one good effect — it has put them on the alert What is to become of the father-in-law, I do not know ; nor what In has done, exactly ; but ' 'T in ft very fine tliinc toW fnttn-r-iiilaw 1 thrM-Ulled luihaw,' as the man in Bluebeard says and sings, I wrote to vou upon matters at length, some days ago; the letter, or letters, VOU will receive with this. We are desirous lo hear more of the loan ; and it is some tunc since 1 have- had any letters (at least of an interesting description) from England, excepting one of 4th Feb. from Howning (o^no great importance.) My latest dates are of 9 s **, or c tie 6ih 10'" e , four months exactly. I hope you get on well in the islands: here most of us are, or have been, more • >i less indisposed, natives as well as !■ n igners. M 1 A coqu of fifty SuWclci, l,n body guard. EXTRACTS FROM A JCTRNAL. 229 LETTER DCXXXV. TO MR. BAIIFF. "April 7. ■The Greeks here of the Government ha e en money. As I have the brigade to 11 in, and the campaign i« apparently n >w to open and aa 1 have already speni 30,000 Hollars in three months i-iii in one way or other, and more th ir public loan has succeeded, so that they oughi not to dj-aw from individuals at that rate, I have given them a refusal, and — as they would nol take that, — another refusal in terms of considerable sincerity. "They wish now to try in the i lands for a few thou- sand dollars on the en uing loan. II' you can serve them, perhaps you will (in the way of information, u' any rate,) an) 1 will see thai you have fair plav, but still I do not pou, excepl io act as you please. Almost everv thing depen Is upon the arrival, and the speedy arrival, of a portion oi the 1 lan to keep peace among themselves. If they can but have Sense to do thi-, I think that they will be a match and belter for any force that can be brought against them fur the present. We are all doing a^ well a.» we can." EXTRACTS FROM A JOURNAL BEGUN NOVEMBER 14, ISIS. ■ Tf this had been begun ten years a?n, and faithfully kept!!! — heigho! there are too manv things! 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, 1 — it certainly should be paid well for its trouble. Ai five-and-twenty, when the better part of life is over, one should be something; — and what am J ? nothing bul 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 qui ■ n and a she of the same rai e who saves one the in them. But fir mis same plague — yeliow-fei i r- id delay. I should have been by tii 1 second time close to the Euxine. If I can overcome the i do n't so much mind your pesulence ; and, at any rate, the spring shall see me there, — provid< d I marry myself nor unmarry any one else in the interval. I — I do n't know what I wish. It i at myself seriously to wishing without attainui j it — and repenting' ' begin to believe with the . Magi, thai do pray for the nation, and not ■ my [ rinciple, this would nol bi i TV patriotic. ; - No more n flections. — Let me see — las) i finished ( Z ■■>'. -. © >n I Ti rkish Tale. I the composition ofil kepi me alive — for it was written to drive my thoughts from the recollection of— ' Dear, tacred name, rest ever imreYeal'd.' i [iv hand would tremble to wri e il Tliis afternoon I have burned the scenes of i 1 comedy. I ha re ■ rate i lea i ■'■ • ■ e, or rather a tale, in prose; — but what romance could equal the events — ' qaxqt.e ir*e vldi, Et quorum pan micnt fuL' To-day Henry Byron called on me with my little cousin Eliza. She ■■ up a beauty and a plague ; but. in the mean time, it h the prettiest child! dark eyes and eyelashes, black and lon2 as the wing of a raven. I think she is prettier even than my niece, Geoigiana, — vet » TbeBrMoof Abydot. T do n'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, too— who seems out of humour with every thing. What can be the matter? he is not married — has he lost Ins own mistress, or any other person's wile? Ho too, came. He is going to he married, arid he is the kind of man who will he the happii r. He has talent, cheer* fulness, every thing thai can make him a pleasing com- panion ; and bis intended is handsome and young, and all that. Ru' I never see any one much improved by matri- mony. All my coupled contemporaries are bald and ■ in rued. W. and S. have both lost their hair and good-humour ; and ihe last of the two had a good deal to lope. But ii do in much signify what falls i*ff' a man's temples in that "Mem. I must gel a toy to-morrow for Eliza, and send the device for thi ...•■ wlf and * * + * *. .Mem. too, to call on the Siacl and Lady Holland to-morrow and on * *, who has advi cd me (withoul sei ing it, by- the-by) nol to pul ish ' Zuleika ;* I believe he is richf, aught him that not to prinl is seen il bul II" Igson and Mr. Giffbrd. I never in m a composition, save to Hodgson, ashi l i a borrible — bettei [Tint, and they who : ead, and, if lliey do n't like, you have the sa-'is^ faction <■' have, at least, jmrdiased the right oi K I have dcclhi ! presenting the Debtor's Petition, being sick of | I have spoken thrice ; but I doubt my ever becoming an orator. Mv firs) was liked ; the i I ■ ■ bird — I do n't know whether thev oi not. I have never yel set to il con amort , t xcuse to onesi It" lor laziness, or inability, or both, and his is mine. ( Company, villanous company, hath been 'he spoil of me :' — and then, I have 'drunk medicines, 1 not to make me love others, but cer- tainly enough to hate myself. "Two r I saw the tigers sup at Exeter 'Change. Except Veu eMon i — who ess of the hyaena for her keeper amused me most Such a conver- sazl 'ii*' ! There was a ' hippo] ... amua,' like Lord Lii i r« pool in the face : a.id the l Ursine SloUY liath tlie very voice and manner of my valet — but the tiger talked too 530 EXTRACTS FROM A JO V R N AL, 1813. much. The elephant look and gave me my monej again — look off my hat — opened a door — tnmked a whip — and behaved m well) that I wish he was my butler. The handsomest animal on earth is on-' of the pan here ; bui 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 (juando te aspiciam?' 1 Nov. 1G. 11 Went last night with Lewis to see the first of Antony and Cleopatra. It was admirably got up and v — a salad of Shakspeare and Dryden. l.'leopalra strikes me as the epitome of lier sex — fond) lively, sad, tender, teasing, humble, haughty, beautiful, the devil ! — coquetti ih totlie last, as well with the 'asp' as with Antony. Afei doing all she can to persuade him thai — but why do the} abuse him for cutting off that poltroon Cicero's head } . Did not Tully tell Brutus it was a pitv to have spared Antony? and did he not speak the Philippics? and are not ' words things T and such ' words 1 very pestilent 'things' too? If he had had a hundred heads, thev I'd (from Antony) a rostrum (his was Stuck up there) apiece — though, after all, he might as well have pardoned him, for the credit of the thing. But to resume — Cleopatra, after securing him, says, ' yet go 1 — ' it is your interest,' &c. ; how like the sex ! and the questions about Octavia — it is woman all over. "To-day received Lord Jersey's invitation to Middle- ton — to travel sixty miles to meet Madame de StaeJl ! I once travelled three thousand to get among silent people; and i Ins same lady writes octavos and talks folios. I have read her books — like most of them, and delight in the last : so I won't hear it, as well as read. ****** + " Read Burns today. What would he have been, if a patrician ? We should have had more polish — less force —just as much verse, hut no immortality — a divorce and a duel or two, the which had he survived, as his potations must have been less spirituous, he might have lived as long as Sheridan, and outlived as much as poor Brinsley. What a wreck is that man! and all from bad pilotage ; for no one had ever better gales, though now and then a little too squally. Poor dear Sherry ! I shall never forget the da\ he, and Rogers, and A! *e, and I passed toge- ther; when he talked, and ye listened, witlmul one yawn, from six till one in the morning. "Got my seals ******. Have again forgot a plaything for nui petite cousine Eliza; but I must send for it to-morrow. 1 hope Harry will bring her to me. I sent Lord Holland the proofs of the last 'Giaour,' and the ' Bride of Abydos. 1 He won 1 ! like the latter, and I don't think that I shall long. It was written in four nights to distract my dreams from * *. Were it not thus, it had never been composed ; and had I not done something at that time, I must have gone mad, by eating my own heart — bitter diet! Hodgson likes it better than the ' iiaour, but nobody else will, — and he never liked the Fragment. I am sure, had it not been fir Murray, that would never have been published, though the circum- stances which are the groundwork make it * * * heigh-ho! " To-night I saw both the sisters of * * ; nn I led ! the youngest so like ! I thought I should have sprung aen.ss the house, and am so glad no one was with me in Lady Holland's box. I bale those likenesses — the m ck- bird, but not the niyhtingyJe — so like as to remind, so dif- ferent as to be painful. One quarrels equally with the points of resemblance and of distinction. "Nov. 17. " No letter from * * ; but I must not complain. The respectable Job savs, 'Why should a Itvtnj man com- plain?' I really do n't know, except it be that &dead man can't ; and he, the said patriarch, did complain, never- rhel< ill hi friends were tired, and his wife reconv mendi ous prologue , ' I !urse — and ■'■■ inn. , 1 impose, when bu little relief is to be found in i ;, ... .i mosi kind letter from Loi id i in • The Bride ol /* '• ''*m ' « bu h hi ik< a i i : .. li. i i,, is von [i»»od-iiatured in both,from whom [ do n't deserve an) quarter. Yet 1 did think, at be time, that my cause of enmitj proceeded frum Hol- land-hou e, and am glad [was wrong, and wish I had not i een in sui ha burr) with ti a) confounded satire, of which I ■.,:■■ i . n Qie memi <*\ . — but people, now hey can't gel it, make a fuss, I verity believe, out of con- tradiction. "George l^Ilis and Murray have been talking some- thing about Scott and me, George pro Scotoj — and « ry right too. If they wan; to depose him, I only wish the) would not Bel me upas a competitor. Even if I had my choice] I would rather be the earl of Warwii k than all the ■ ever made! Jill.eyand Gltl'ord 1 lata the monarch-ms era in pot i** and prose. The British Critic, in their Rokebi H oeed a com- parison, which I am sun- my friends never h W. Scott's sol, to. 1 like ill'- man — and admire Ins works to what Mr. 1 traham rails vntusymusy. All such stuff can only vex him, and do me no good. Many hate his politics, — (I hate all politics;) and, here, a man's poliues are like the G reek soul — an etSutXoVj besides God knows what other soul; but their estimate of the two generally go together. "Harry has not brought ma petite cousins. I want us to go to the play together ; s\n_- baa bet n but once. Another short note from Jersey, mviimj; lingers and me on i he 23d. I must Bee my agent to night 1 wonder when thai Newstead business will be Finished. I me more than words i" part with i< — and to Hon j with it! What matters it what I do? or what bei of me? — hui let m.' ii-im.im'h r lob's saving, and console myself with being* a Living man. 1 I wish I could settle to reading again; rny life is monotonous, and yet desultory. I lake up books, and fling them dow n again. I began a comedy, and burned it because the scene ran into reality ; a novel, for the same reason. In rhyme, I can keep more away from facts; but the thought always runs through, through yes, yes, through. I have had u letter from Lady Mel- bourne, the best friend I ever had in my life, and tin. cleverest of women. "Not a word from * *. Have they set out from * *1 ■ nn ol youi young wife, and legal espousals, toanj but your 1 sober- blooded boy,' who 'eats fish' and driukeUi 'no sack. Had he not the whole opera? all Paris ? all France 1 EXTRACTS FROM A JOURNAL, 1313. 231 But a mistress is jtKt as perplexing — lhat is, one — two or more art- manageable by division. " I have begun, or had begun a song, and flung it into the lire. It was in remembrance of Mary Dull! mv rirsi of flames, before most people begin to bum. I wonder what (he devil is the matter with me ! I can do nothing, an I — fortunately (here is nothing to do. It has lately been in my power to make two persons (and their con- nexion- ) comfortable, pro tempore^ and one happy ex tem- pore, — I rejoice in the last particularly, as it is an excel- lent man. I wish there had been more inconvenience gratification to mv self-love in it, for then there had be< >i more merit. We are all selfish — and 1 believe, I of Epicurus ! I believe in Rochefoucault about men, and in Lucretius, (not Busby's translation) about yourselves. Your bard has made you very nonchalant and blest; but as he has excused us from damnation, I do n't envy you your blessedness much — a litde, to be sure. I remember last year, * * said to me at * *, ' Have we not passed our last month like the gods of Lucretius T And so we had. She is an adept in the text of the original (which I like too;) and when that booby Bus. sent his translating prospectus, she subscribed. But, the devil prompting him to add a specimen, she transmitted him a subsequent answer, saving, that, 'after perusing it, her con ;cience would not permit her to allow her name torenu n on the list of suhscribblers.' * * * Last night, at Lord Holland's — Mackintosh, the Ossulstones, Puvsegur, &c. there — I v\ a- ir; mg to recollect a quotation (as / think) of Siael's, from some Teutonic sophist about architecture. ' Archi- tecture,' says this Macoronica Tedescho, 'reminds me of frozen music' It is somewhere — but where ? — the demon of perplexity must know and won't tell. I asked Moore, and he said it was not in her ; but P - r said it must be hers, it was so like. * * * * * * * * H. laughed, as he does at all l De l'AHemagne, — in which, however, I think he goes a little too far. B., I hear, contemns it too. But there are fine passages; — and, after all, what is a work — ■any — or every work — but a desert with fountains, and, perhaps, a grove or two, every day's journey ? To be sure, in Madame, what we often mistake, and 'pant for,' as the 'cooling stream,' turns out to be the ' mirage (entice, verbiage;) but we do, at last, get to something like the temple of Jove Amnion, and then the waste we have passed is only remembered to gladden the contrast. ******** "Called on C * *, to explain * * * * She is verv beautiful, to my taste, at least ; for on coming home from I recollect being unable to look at any woman but her — they were so fair, and unmeaning, and blonde. The darkness and regularity of her features reminded me of m\ • Jannat al Aden.' But this impression wore off; and now I can look at a fair woman without longing for a Houn. She was very good-tempered, and every thing was explained. "To-day, great news — 'the Dutch have taken Hol- land, 1 — which, I suppose, will be succeeded bv the actual explosion of the Thames. Five provinces have declared i I young Stadt, and there will be inundation, conflagra- tion, constirpation, consternation, and every sort of nalion and nations, fighting away up to their knees, in the dam- nable ijuags of this will-o'-the-wisp abode of Boors. It is said v Bemadotte is among them, too ; and, as Orange will be there soon, they will have (Crown) Prince Stork and King Log in their Log^cry at the same time. Two to one on the new dynasty ! "Mr. Murray has offered me one thousand guineas for the 'Giaour' and the 'Bride of Abvdos.' I won't — it is too much, though I am strongly tempted, merely f. .r the say of it. No bad price for a fortnight's (a week each) * Lady Caroline Lamb. what ? — the gods know — it was intended to be called Poetry, " I have dined regularly to-day, for the first time since Sunday last — this bemg Sabbath, too. All the rest, tea and dry biscuits — sixprr dxem. I wish to God I had not dined now ! It kills me with heaviness, stupor, and horri- ble dreams ; — and yet it was but a pint of bucellas and fish. — Meat I never touch, — nor much vegetable diet. I wish I were in the country, to take exercise, — instead of being obliged to cool by abstinence, in lieu of it. I should not so much mind a little accession of flesh, — my bones can well bear it. But the worst is, the devil alwavs came with it, — till I starve him out, — and I will not be the slave of any appetite. If I do err, it shall be my heart, at least, that heralds the way. Oh my head — how it aches ! — the horrors of digestion! I wonder how Buonaparte's dmner agrees with him ? "Mem. I must write to-morrow to 'Master Shallow, who owes me a thousand pounds,' and seems, in his letter, afraid that I should ask him for it ; — as if I would ' — I don't want it (just now, at least,) to begin with; and though I have often wanted that sum, I never asked for the repayment of 10/. m my life — from a friend. His bond is not due this year ; and I told him when it was, I should not enforce it. How often must he make me say the same thing / " I am wrong — I did once ask * * * to repay me. But it was under circumstances that excused me to him, and would to any one. I look no interest, nor required secu- rity. He paid me soon, — at least, his padre. My head! I believe it was given me to ache with. Good even. "Nov. 22,1813. " ( Orange Boven !' So the bees have expelled the beai that broke open their hive. Well, — if we are to have new De Witts and De Ruyters, God speed the little ro public! I should like to see the Hague and the village of Brock, where they have such primitive habits. Yet, I don't know, — their canals would cut a poor figure bv the memory of the Bosphorus : and the Zuyder Zee look awkwardly after 'Ak Degnity.' No matter, — the bluff burghers, puffing freedom out of their short tobacco-pipes, might be worth seeing; though I prefer a cigar, or a hooka, with the rose leaf mixed with the milder herb of the Levant. I do n't know what hberty means, — never having seen it, — but wealth is power all over the world ; and asashilling performs the dutv "fa pound (besides sun and sky and beauty for nothing) in the Easr, — that is the country. How I envy Herodes Atticus ! — more than Pom- ponius. And yet a little tumult, now and then, is an agreeable quickener of sensation ; such as a revolution, a battle, or an aventure of any lively description. I think I rather would have been Bonneval, Ripperda, Alberoni. Hayreddin, or Horuc Barbarossa, or even Wortley Mon- tague, than Mahomet himself. "Rogers will be in town soon! — the 23d is fixed for our Middleton visit. Shall I go ? umph ! — In this island, where one can't ride out without overtaking the sea, it do n't much matter where one goes. ****** " I remember the effect of the Jirst Edinburgh Review on me. I heard of it six weeks before, — read it the day of its denunciation, — dined and drank three bottles of claret, (with S. B. Davies, I think,) — neither ate nor slept the less, but, nevertheless, was not easy till I had vented my wrath and mv rhyme, in the same pages, against every thing and every body. Like George, in the Vicar of Wakefield, 'the fate of my paradoxes' would allow me to perceive no merit in another. I remembered onlv the maxim of my boxing-master, which, in my youth, was found useful in all general riots, — ' Whoever is not for vou is against you — mill away right and left,' and so I did;— like Ishmael, my hand was against all men, and all mens ancnt me. I did wonder, to be sure, at mv own success— ' And marvel* so much wilis all ha owu, 1 232 EXTRACTS FROM A JOURNAL, 1813. asHobhouse sarcasticall) i; ol romebody, (not unlikely I as we are old frii nds i) bul w< re il I me ovei again, I would" no/. I have Bince redde' 1 the cau fm) couplets, and it is nol feet '' ' ' '"''' it was believed I alluded to poor Lord Carlisle's nervous di del in one of the lines, I thank Heaven! dnl not know it — and would lint, could not, if I had. I must naturally be lit last person lo be pointed on defei la or maladies, ■ R igers is silent,— and, it i o' ■■ re. When he talks well; and, ■ last •. his I ofexpre Bon i- pun as hi i' ' ''' Ifyou enter his bouse— his drawing-room— his library— you self say, this is not thedwelling ofa common mind. There i aoti m, a coin, a book, thrown aside on hischimni y- pj , , hi ol hi table, thai 'I'"-* nol bespeak an almosl fa ,. 1 1 .. , i 1 . ,ii«t i, the possessor. But this very deli- cacy must be tin- misery of his existence, oh the jar- rings Ins disposition must have et untered through lift ' "Southey I have not seen much of. His appearance i / ; ami he is the only ens in ■ i nlire mi n "i letters. .Ail 'In' others have some pu ' author- ship. His manners are mild, bul nol ' 1 a man of tin' world, ami his talents oftlil first Ol I Hi perfect t 'tins poetry there are various opinions: there is, perhaps, i nuch ofil lor the prescnl generation j — pos- terity "ill probably select. He] at passages equal to any thing. At present, he bas a party, bul no puiae— except f ,i ins prose writings. The life "i' Nelson i- beautiful. " * * is a litterateur, the Oracle .if the < loleries, of ilie **s, L* W*, (Sidney Smith's ' Tory Virgin,') Mrs. w I'nioi. (she, ai lias', is a swan, and might frequent a purer stream,} Lad} B • *,' and all the Blues, with Lady Caroline al their head — but 1 saynothing ofisr— 'look in her face, and you forgel them all,' and every di oh that face!— by 'te, Diva potens I lypri,' I would, to be bel ivc 'I by that woman, build and bum anothei Ti " . " .Moure has a peculiarity of talent, or rather talents, — 'iv. music, voice, all Ins own,' ami an expression in . i which never was, nor will be, possessed by another. Bul he i- capable of still higher Rights in poetry. i;> -t !n- ny, whal hum ,whal — every thing in Ihe'Po Tin re is nothing Moore may i lo, if be will bul sari; ously set about it. In society, he is genttc Ly,gende and altogether more [.leasing than any individual "ith whom] am acquainted. For his honour, principle, and ' speaks ' trumpet- ■and that one I daily iiuli'iii'iulence, his conduct to * * In -gueil. 1 He has but one fault- I o p' -he is not lure. ■ Nov. 23. "Ward— I like Ward.f By Mahomet! 1 b _in t.. think I like everybody; a disposition nol to I"' encou- raged ; a sort of social gluttony, thai swallows every thing set hefore it. But 1 like Ward. He is pi././o".' ; atnl,ii my opinion, will siand very high in the House and every where else — if he applies regularly. By-the-by, I dine with him lo-ni..rrow, whii'h inai, have some iuflueiiee ..t. myopinion. It is as well not to trust >■ I have beard many a host libelled by his guests, with his burgundy yet recking on their rascally lips. ****** "I have taken Lord Salisbury's box at Covent-garden for the season; — and now I must go and prepare to join Ladj Holland and party, in theirs, at Drury-lane, guests sera. " Holland does n't think die man is Junius ; but that the vet unpublished journal throws great tight on the obscuri- ties of that part of George the Seconds reign. — What is this to George the Third's? I don't know what to think. Why should Junius !..■ yel dead I [fsuddenlj apoplexed, would he rest in his grave without sending his EiowXov lo • It WRtthui Hint tip, iiip-.irnU, npillcd LhiiWord. I TIib pracat Lui-d Liuiiluy. shout iii 'I ins was X.T.Z. Esq. buried ini ' ' '• l; ' I ;llr '■•'• monum church-wardens? Print a new edition of his letiers,ye 1 ksellers!' Impossible; the man must be alive, and II never die without the disclosure. 1 like him; he was hater. •Came home unwell and went to bed,— not so sleepy as might be desirable. " Tuesday morning. ■1 awoke fr.nii a dream — well! and have not others dreamed.' — Such a dream! but Bhedid not overtake mo. I hi s the dead would rest, however, fjgh! how my blood chilled— and I could not wake — and— and— heigho! •Shn.loiA Is i Hi.v,i H ■ tO "■■ ■ "I It.. t.. "'I, ... I SI. 'Ii.m.S.IIkI * '■, Ar.i.'.l nil in , :■ vmllow " V [do not liki — [hate its 'for igone conclusion. Ay, "hen Ihi mind us of — no matter — Inn. if I dream thus again, I will try whether all sleep hi ns. Since I rose, I Ve !"■' hi nsiderable bodilj pain also; bul il i and now, hi i LordOgl I I up for II j "A note from Mountnorris — I dine with Ward; Can- ning is to be there, Frere, and Sharpe, perhaps Giftord. I am to In one of ' the five,' (or rather sL\,) a.> Lady * * said, a little sneeringly, yi 1 '■ - Ito miit, particularly Ci ng, and — Ward, when In- likes, 1 wish I may be well e gh io li ten to these intellectuals. "No letters to-day; so much the better, there arc no answers. I must not dream aj n i life even reality. [ will go out of doors, and see whal thefogv Jackson has been lure : the boxing world much as usual ; imt tin- Clul treases. I shall dine at Cribs lb-morrow: I like energy, even animal energy, of ail kinds : and 1 have- need of both mental and corporeal. I have not dined out, nor, indeed, al all, lately; have heard no mu nobody. Now for a plunge — high life and low liib. 'Amanl alb rna ' !amo « I have burned my Roman, as I did the first and slo till of my comedy— and, for ought 1 see, the pleasure of burning isquite as great as that of printing. These l.i^t two would nol have d •. 1 ran into rtrilitu*. more than imt ; and some would have been recognised and others guessed at. "Redde the Ruminator, a collection of Essays, by a strange, imt able, old man (Sir E Igerton Bridges) and a half- wil, I v ig one, author of a Poem on the Highlands, ttildi A nil,..!'. ' The word 'sensibility,' (always my aversion) occurs a thousand tunes in di ami, it seems, is lo In- an excuse fir all kinds ol discon- tent. This young man can know nothing of life; and, if he cherishes the disposition which runs Ihrorj ., !,, come " ■ est nid, perhaps, nol after all, which he seems determined to be. God help him! no one should be a rhymer who could be any thing In Her. And tins 1- whal annoys I, to see Scott and .Moore, and Campbell and HogerS, who might all have been agents and leaders, now mi i ators. For, though they * have other ostensible avocations, these last are reduced to a s,r, in.larv consideration. **,too, frittering away Ins time among dowagers and unmarried s-irls. If it advi serious affair, it were some, excuse; but, with the unmarried, that is a hazardous spo* eolation and iresome enough, too; and, with the v< uis not much worth trying, — unles one in s thousand. " If I had any views in this country, they would proba blv be parliamentary. But 1 have no i mbition s if anv, it would be 'aut Ctesar aut nihil.' My ho] limited to the arrangement of my atfairs, and settling either in Italy or die East, (rather th. last,) and drinking deep of the languages and literature of both. Past events [have unnorved me; andaDIcan now do is to make lite EXTKACTSFRO.M AJOL'HNAL, 1813. 233 an amuscme f, and look on, while others play. After all .—even the highest game of crowns and sceptres, what is It? Vide Napoleon's last twelvemonth. It has com- pletely upset my system of fatalism. I thought, if crushed, he would have fallen, when ' fractUS iliabatur orbis,' and not have been pared away to gradual insignificance ; — thai all this was not a mere jeu of the gods, hut a prelude to greater changes and mightier events. Hut men never beyond a certain point; — and here we are, retro- grading to 'he dull, stupid, old system,— ba ance of Kurope — upon lungs 1 noses, instead of wringing them otf ! Give me a republic, or a despotism of one, rather than the rei umenl ofone, two, three. A republic ! — look in the in ttory of the Eartlx — Rome, Greece, Ve- nice, Prance, II tlland, America, our short (eheu!) Com- monwealth, and compare it with what they did under masters. The Asiatics are not qualified to be republicans, but they have the liberty of demolishing despots, — which is the next thing to it. To be the first man — not the Dic- tator — not the Sylla, but the Washington or the Aristides — die leader in talent and truth — is next to the Divinity; Franklin, Penn, and next to these, either Brutus or Cas- sius— even Mirabcau-*-or St. Just. I shall never be any ir ratlier always be nothing. The most I can hope is, tiiat some will sa ■, ' He might, perhaps, if he would.' " IS, midnight. u Here are two confounded proofs from the printer. I have looked at the one, but, for die soul of me, I can't look over that 'Giaour again, — at least, just now, and at diis hour — and yet there is no moon. " Ward talks of going to Holland, and we have partly discussed an ensemhle expedition. It must be in ten days, if at all, if we wish to be in at the Revolution. And why not ? * * is distant, and will be at * *, still more distant, till spring. No one else, except Augusta, cares for me — no ties — not rammels — andiamo dunque — se torniamo,bene — se nan ch J titiporta'* Old William of Orange talked of dying in ' the las' ditch' of his dingy country. It is lucky I can swim, or I suppose I should not well weather the first. But let us see. I have heard hyenas and jackals in the ruins of Asia ; and bull-frogs in the marshes, besides wolves and angry Mussulmans. Now, I should like to listen to the shout of a free Dutchman. "Alia! Viva! For ever ! Hourra ! Huzza ! — which is the most rational or musical of these cries? 'Orange Boven,' according to the Morning Post. « Wednesday. 24th. '* No dreams last night of the dead nor the living — so — I am ' firm as the marble, founded as the rock' — till the next earthquake. " Ward's dinner went off well. There was not a dis- agreeable person there— unless / offended any body, which I am sure I could not by contradiction, f'ir I said little, and opposed nothing. Sharpe (a man of elegant mind, and who has lived much with the best — Fox. Home Tooke, Windham, Fitzpatrick, and all the agi'alors of other times and tongues) told us the particulars of his last interview with Windham, a few days before the fatal operation, which sent 'that gallant spirit to aspire the skies.' Windham, — the first in one department of oratory and talent, whose only fault was his refinement beyond the intellect of half his hearers, — Windham, half his lite an active participator in the events of the earth, and one of those who governed nations, — he regretted, and dwelt much on that regret, that ' he had not entirely devoted himself to literature and science!'. !' His mind certainly would have carried him to eminence there, as elsewhere ; —but I cannot comprehend what debility of that mind could suggest such a wish. I, who have heard him, cannot regret any thing but that I shall never hear him again. What ! would he have been a plodder ? a metaphy- sician ? — perhaps a rhymer? a scribbler? Such an exchange must have been suggested by illness. But he is gone, and Time ' shall not look upon his like a^ain.* 30 8 I am tremendously in arrear with my letters, — except to * * and to her my thoughts overpower me, — my words never compass them. To Lady Melbourne I write with most pleasure — and her answers, so sensible, so tactujue — I never met with half her talent. If she had been a few years younger, what a fool she would have made of me, ha.i sh? thought it worth her while, — and 1 should have lust a valuable and most agree able _/ He mi. Mem. — amis- tress never is Dor ean be a friend. While you agree, you are lovers; and, when it is over, any thing but friends. '■ I have not answered W. .Scott's last letter, — but I will. I regret to hear from others that he has lately been unfor- tunate in pecuniary involvements. He is undoubtedly the monarch of Parnassus, and die most English of bards. I should place lingers next in the living list — (I value him in ire as the last • •(ihebest school) — Moore and Campbell b'lth third — Southey and Wordsworth and Culcndjje— the rest, i/t -okXot — thus: There is a triangular 'Gradus ad Pamassum!' The names are too numerous fur the base of the triangle. Poor Thurlow has gone wild about die poetry of Q,ueen Bess's reign — e'esf donunase. I have ranked die names upon my triangle more upon what I believe popular opinion than any decided opinion of my own. For, to me, some of \] i Lasl Erin sparks — 'As abeam o'er the face of the waters 9 — ' When he who adores thee' — ' Oh blame not' — and ' nli l ii i ion 1 I ihi ' pirate. ' ""' i friend of ndne; I have soen someof his bosl . ,, ,nage. He i ■"' ■""': ' f"i a in , !— for Mrs.* * isonalim i th, champion, Tnii ' ' told ,— Tsmbavin-! an opinio 'm> morals, passed her off as a legal buou i Talking of her, he said/she was I - 1 »"""'" —from which 1 imm diately inferred she could net be Ins wife, and so it turned out "These panegyrics don't belong to matrimony; torn true,' a man do n't think it necessary to saj o;a the lesshesaysthe better.' ' * * * isth 1I3 man ■ 1 1 1 heard harangue upon his vn«Vs virtui ;ani I listened to both with great credence and patience, and stuffed my handkerchief into my mouth, when 1 1 >••■ yawning irre istible. By-the-*y, lam yawning now— , I night to thee.- Nuiiipuv- " Thursday, S61I1 November. « Iwoke a little feverish, but no headachi — no dreams neither— thanks to stupor! Two letters, one from * * * *, the other from Lady Melbourne— both excellent m their r < spective styles. * * * *'s contained also a very prettj lyric on 'concealed griefs'— if not her own, yet very like her. Why did she not say that the stanzas were, 01 wi re not of her composition?— I do not know whether towisb them hera or not. I have no great esteem for poi Ileal perrons, particularly wo n:— they have so much of the hi practice, as Well as tthica. « 1 hav been thinking lately a good deal of Mary Duff. U.e.vv.-n odd thai I should have been so utterly,.! fond of that girl, at an age when 1 could 1. ilher fei as- sion nor know the meaning of the word. Andtln —My mother used always to rally me about this childish amour; and, at last, many years' after, when I * is sixteen, she I ild meoneday,'Oh'.Byrorr,I have had a letter from Edinl h, from Miss Aberoromhy, and your old sweet. rtaryDuffismarriedtoaMr.Co».' And what was inv rnswer ? I really caiinol explain or account for my ; at that moment; but they nearly threw mo into convulsions, and alarmed my mother so much, il.a , al 11 1 s , .„ better, she general!] ai ided the subject — to?«e — herself wi h tellin il tool] h n acquaintance. Now, what could ibis he ? I had nover seen her since hei ,n idler's faux-pas ai Abi rdeen had been the cause ol hei removal to her grandmothi is al Banff; we were both the merest children. I had and have been attached fifty tunes that period; yet I oiled all we said to each other, all our caresses, her featuri ,mj re ilessness, sleepless- maid (q write lor me to hor, which she id, to quiel Poor Nancy thought 1 was wild, and, as 1 could not write for myself] became my secretary, [remember, I u walks, and the hap| -• of sitting by Mary, in the children's apart- ment, at their house nol tar from the Plainstones at Aber- deen, while her less sister 11, -In plj.. „ I with ihl we sat gravely making love, in our way. •How the'deucc did all this ur so early 1 where could it originate ? I certainly had no sexual ideas for years afterward ; and yet my misery, my love for that girl were 60 violent, that I som ie« doubt if I have ever been really attached since. Be that as it may, hearing of her marriage several years af er was like a thunder-stroke — it nearly ohoked me — to tho horror of my mother and the astonishment and almost incredulity of every body. And it is a phenomenon in my existence (tor 1 was not eight wars old) which has puzzled, and will puzzle me to the Inteethour of it; and lately, I know not -why, the recollec- tion (not the attacliment) has recurred as forcibly as ever ider if she can have the least remembrance of it 01 . , or remember her pitying sister Helen for not bavins an admiri r loo .' How very prettj is the perfect im her in my memory — her brown dark hair, an her very dress! I should be quite grieved to the reality, however beautiful, would destroy, or at confuse, the features of the level) Peri whi. t „, h.r. and still lu.-s in my imagination, at the di of more than sixteen years. 1 am now twenty-foe and odd i . k my mother told the circumstances (on m ing ol hei marriage) to the Parkynsies, and the Pigot famil) men ioned u In her answer to Miss. A., who was well acquainted with mj ch ,„ m n alt, and had sent the news on purpose for me, — and, thank s to n i •• .\ tl to the beginning, the conclusion has often occu- n. That the cla „;, ,! mow a~ well a- 1, and my m me so, in more than a whisper. Hut, the mon I ;,.„„.,_ , L ,. more i .„„ bewildered to assign an] for this prei ocii) o) affi ction. ■ Lord Ho! vited me to dinner to-day; but three days' due;, pvo A destroy me. So, without eating al all -in. ■■ yesterday,! went to mj box at I ovent-garden. i s;., w ♦ * * * looking very pretty, though quite a differ- ent style of beauty from the other two. She has thi , ,, . h i the world, out ol which she pretends not to see, and the longest eyelashes! evet 5aw,since Leilas and i .a rs 'i Ii in i in ains of the light, she has much beauty, — just enough, — but is, I think, midumtt. ***** "I have been pondering on the miseries of separation, hovi seldom we see those we love! yet we five in in iments, when met. 1 hi on . thing I i , . shsi nee is the reflection that no rm personal estrangement, from ennui or disagreenwn take place;— and when | |.le meet hereafter, even u.anv i -bailees inav have taken place in the mean time still— unless th.-y an- tired of each other — they an ready to reunite, and do not blame each other for die circum- stances that severed them. " Saturday, 27lh, (I believe — or rather am in rlcnibt, which is the ne plus ulna of mortal faith,) "I ha-.e missed a day; and, as the Irishman said, oi Joe Miller says for bun, 'have earned a loss,' or fry the toss. Every thing is Bottled for Holland, and nothing but a cough, or a caprice ofm] follow-fravellerls, can slop us. Carriage erdered — funds prepared— and, probably, a gale of wind into the bargain. Wimzwrti — I believe, with t'lvni o' the Clow, or Robin Hood, 'By our Mary (dear name!) that art both Mother and May, 1 think il nevel was a man's lot to dii iy.' Heigh (bt ind so forth ! "To-night 1 went with youn - Henry Fox to see 'N - jahad' — a drama, which the Morning Post bathlaid to my charge, bul of which 1 ca ven guess the author. I wonder what they will next inflict upon me. They can- not well sink below- a Melodrama ; but that is better than a Satin-, (at bast, a personal one,) with which I stand truly i. and in atonement of which I am resolved to Criticisms, abuses, anil even praises lor bad pantom -s never composed by me, — with ven a contradictory aspect. 1 suppose die root ol tins n mv loan to the manager of my Turkish drawings for his dresses, to which he was more welcome than to my name. I suppose the real author will soon own it, as il has suc- ceeded ; if not, Job be my model, and Lethe my beverage ! „ f * t + ), u;i received the portrait safe ; and, in an swer, the only remark she makes upon it is, ' indeed il is like'— and again, ' indeed it is like.' * * * With her the likeness ' covered a multitude of sins ;' for I happeu EXTRACTS FROM A JOURNAL, 1813. 235 to know that this portrait was not a flatterer, but dark and sieni, — even black as the mood in which my mind was scorching last July, when I sate for it. All the others of me — like most portraits whatsoever — are, of course, more ■ agreeable than nature. "Redde ih* Ed. Review of Rogers. He is ranked highly — but where he should be. There is a summarj view of us all — Moore and me among the rest ; and both (the ,/&•*< justly) praised; though, by implication (justly , ... a a i our ra mo/able friend. Mackin- tosh i nil' writer, and also of the critic on the Stael. His grand essay on Burke, I hear, is for the next number. Bui I know nothing of the Edinburgh, or of any other Review, but from rumour ; and I have long ceased — in- deed, I could not, injustice, complain of any, even though I were to rate poetry in general, and my rhymes in par- ticular, mora highly than I really Jo. To withdraw my- stlf from myself [oh that cursed selfishness!) has ever been my sole, my entire, my sincere motive in scribbling a: all; and publishing is also the continuance of the t expect it. In the mean time, I am grateful for some good, and tolerably patient under certain evils — grace a Dieu et mon bon euiperainent. u Sunday, 28th. « Monday, 29th. "Tuesday, 30th, ■Twodavs missed in my log-book; hiatus haud de- flendus. They were as little worth recollection as the rest; and, luckily, laziness or society prevented me from notching them. a Sunday, I diced with Lord Holland in St. Jame ;':> square. Large party — among them Sir S. Romilly and Lady ltv. : General Sir Somebody Bent ham, a man of and talent I am told ; Horner — the Horner, an Edinburgh Reviewer, an excellent speaker in the 'Ho- ,' very pleasing, too, and gentlemanly in company, as far as I have seen — Sharpe — Phillips of ( Lord Iohn Russell, and others, * good men and true.' Holland's society is very good; you always imi one or other in it worth knowing. Stuffed my- self with sturgeon, an I exceeded in champaign and wine in general, but not to confusion of head. Wnenl do dine, I gorge like an Arab or a Boa snake, on fish and vegeta- H no meat. I am always better, however, on my tea and biscuit than any other regimen, — and evexiViai sparingly. " Why does Lady H. always have that damned screen b rween the whole room and the fire ? I, who bear cold uo better than an antelope, and never yel found a sun quite done to my taste, was absolutely petrified, and could not even shiver. Ail the rest, too, looked as if they were just unpacked, like salmon from an ice-basket, and se| down to table for tiiut day only. When she retired, I watched their looks as I dismissed the screen, and every cheek thawed, and ever) nose reddened with the antici- pated glow. " Saturday, I went with Harry Fox to Nourjahad"; and, I believe, convinced him, by incessant yawning, that it was not mine. I wish the precious author would own it and release me from his fame. The dresses are pretty, hut not in costume — Mrs. Home's, all hut the turban, and the want of a small dagger, (if she is a Sultana,) perfect. L never saw a Turkish woman with a turban in my life — nor did any one else. The Sultanas have a small poniard at the waist. The dialogue is drowsy — the action heavy — the scenery fine — the actors tolerable. I can't say much for their seraglio ; Teresa, Phannio, or * * * * were worth them all. B Sunday, a very handsome note from Mackintosh, who isarare instance of thi tfe ._,n of very transcendent talent and great good-nature. '1 o-day, (Tuesday,) a very pretty billet from M. la Barenne de Stael Holstein. She is pleased to be much pleased with my mention of her and her iast work in my notes. I spoke as I thought. — Hci works are my delight, and so is she herself, for — half an hour. I do n't like her politics — at least, her hating dta:ig'.d them ; had she been qualis ab inccpto, it were nothing. But she is a woman by herself and has done more than ail the rest of them together, intellectually,— she ought to have been a man. She jlatters me very pret- tily in her note ; — but I kwtv it. The reason that adula- tion is not displeasing is, that, though un'.rue, it shows one to be of consequence enough, in one way or other, to induce people to lie, to make us their friend : — that is their concern. " * * is, I hear, thriving on the repute of a pun (which was mine at Mackin osh's dinner some time back) on Ward, who was asking 'how much it would take to re- tvhig him?' I answered that, probably, he ' must first, before he was Te-wfdggea\ be m^wardedl This foolish quibble, before the S.aei and Mackintosh and a number of conversationers, has been mouthed about, and atlas! settled on the headof* *, where long may it remain ! "George* is returned from afloat to get a new ship. He looks thin, but better than 1 ex\ ected. I like George much more than most people like their heirs. He is a line fellow, and every inch :i sailor. I would do any thing, but apostatize, to get him on in his profession. u Lewis calied. 1' is a good and good-humoured man, but pestilently prolix, and paradoxical, and personal. If he would but talk hail* and reduce his visits to an hour, he would a-id to his populari y. As an author, he is very good, and his vanity is ouverte 3 like Erskine's, and yet not offending. " Yesterday, a very pretty letter from Annabella,! which I answered. What an odd situation and friend- ship is ours! without one spark of love on either side, and produced by circumstances which in general lead to cold- ness on one side, and aversion on the other. She is a very superior woman, and very little spoiled, which is strange in an heiress — a girl of twenty — a peeress that is to be, in her own right — an only child, and a smrtnte, who has always had her own way. She is a poetess — a ma- thematician — a i . :u ; and yet, withal, very kind, generous, and gentle, \\nh very little pretension. Any other head would be turned with half her acquisitions, and a tenth of her advantages. " Wednesday, December 1, 1813. "To-day responded to La Baronne de Stael Holstein and sent to Leigh Hum (an acquisition to my acquaint- ance — through Moore — of last summer) a copy of the two Turkish Tales. Hunt is an extraordinary character and not exactly of the present age. He reminds me more • 1-.. ,-■■.,. ■■:■■, :dLord Byron. . ..I-... .vHi.l i.udy Byroo 236 EXTRACTS FROM A JOURNAL, 1813. of the Pvm and Hampden times — much talent, great in- dependence of spirit, and an austere, yet not repulsive] aspect. If he- goes on quaUi <•!> incepto, I know few men who will deserve more praise or obtain it. 1 masl go and see him again ; the rapid succession of adventun inc< lasr summer, added to some serious uneasiness and busi- ness, have interrupted our acquaintance ; bul he is a man worth knowing; and though, for hi> own sake, I wish him oat of prison, 1 like to study character in such situations. He has been unshaken, and will continue so. I don't think him deeply versed in life ; — he is the bigot of virtue] 'not religion,) and enamoured of the beauty of that 'empty name, as the last breath of Brutus pronounced, and ever)- day proves it. He is, perhaps, a little opinion- ated, as all men who are the centre of cm://,*, wide or nar- tow — the Sir Oracles, in whose name two or three are gathered together — must be, and as even Johnson was ; hut, withal, a valuable man, and less vain than success and even the consciousness of preferring l lhe right to the expedient 1 might excuse. "To-morrow there is a party of pterpU at the 'blue' Miss * * *s. Shall I go? urn! I do n't much affect your brae-bottles ; but one ought to be civil. There « ill be,' I guess now,' (as the Americans Bay,) the Stalls and Mackintoshes — good — the * * *s and * * *s — not so good — the* **s,&c. &c — good for nothing. Perhaps that blue-winged Kashmirian butterfly of book-learning, Lady * * * *, will be there. I hope so; it is a pleasure to look upon that most beautiful of faces. " Wrote to Hodgson ; he has been telling 'hat 1 .* I am sure, at least, J did not mention it, and I wish he had nut . He is a good fellow, and I obliged myself ten times more by being of use than I did htm ; and there 's an end on 't. "Baldwin is boring me to present their King's B< rich petition. I presented Cartwright's last fear; and Stan- hope and I stood against the whole House, and mouthed it valiantly — and had some fun and a little abuse lor our opposition. But 'I am not f uY vein 1 for this business. Now, had * * been here, she would have made me do it. There is a woman, who, amid all her fascination, always orged a man to usefulness or glory. Had she remained, she had been my tutelar genius. * * + " Baldwin is very importunate — but, poor fellow, 1 1 can 1 ! get out, I can't get out — said the starling.' — Ah, I am as bad as thai dog Sterne, who preferred whining over 'a dead ass to relieving a living mother 1 — villain — hypocrite — slave — sycophant! but / am no better. Here I cannot, stimulate myself to a speech for the sake of these unfortunates, and three words and half a smile of * *, had she been lure to urge it, (and urge it she infalli- bly would — at least, she always pressed me on senatorial duties, and particularly in the cause of weakness,) would have u tide me an advocate, if not an orator. Curse on Rochefoucault for being always righl ! In him a lie were virtue,— or, at least, a comfort to his readers. "George Byron has not called to-day ; I hope he will be an admiral, and, perhaps, Lord Byron into lh« bar- nun. If he would bin marry, I would engage never to marry, myself, or cut him out of the hi irship. He would be happier, and 1 should like nephews better than sons. "I snail soon be six-and-tvrenty, (January £2d, 1814.) *$ there any thing in the future thai can possibly console us for not being always (ircnti/-Jii >■ ? ' Oh Gioveniu I Oh Primnvern ! giuvt niu ildl' anno. Oh Gioveniu i prlnuTer* daDa viu.' ■Sunday, Doc.fi. "Dallas's nephew (son to the American Attorney- 1 wo or (hire words are here prratch«| out in ihc OMOUKript, bat Bi*lm t «ri..f thi .Miic.ce evidently is, thai Mr. Hodp >n (to whom the B""^ 5™!*' Iwibeen revealing la some friend, llteiecrtlof Lord •wo • kmdiMwto him.— Movit. general) is arrived in this country, and tells Dallas that my rhymes are very popular in the United States. These Brsl tidings thai have ever sounded my ears — to be redds on the banks of the Ohio! The greatest ph asure I ever derived, of this kind, was from an extract, in * !ooke the actor 1 ! Life, from Ins Journal, sta- ting,thal in die reading-room of Albany, near Washing- ton, he perused English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. To be ['"polar :n a rising and far country has a kind of lit !<'■', \'i\ ihlbr-nt from the ephemeral erli'it and [ete-ingj buzzing and party-nig compliments of the well-dressed multitude. lean safely sav that, daring my reign in the sprang of 1812, I reeeember ; but how tf is liked on I knownot. Whether it succeeds or not is no fault of the public, against whom I can have no complaint. But I am much more indebted to the tale than I can ever be to the most partial reader ; as it wrung my thoughts from reality to imagination — from selfish regrets to vivid re- collections— and recalled me to a country replete with the brightest and darkest, but always most Busty ■ of my memory. Sharps tailed, but was not let in, which I regret, ****** "Saw * * yesterday. 1 have not kept my appoint- menl at MTiddleton, which lias not pleased I and my projected voyage with * * will, perhap him less. But I wish to keep well with boih. They are instruments that don't do, in concert; but, surely, their separate tones are very musical, and I won't give up either. "It is well if I do n't jar between these great discords At present, I stand tolerably well with all, but I cannot adopt their dislikes;— so many sds. Holland's is the first ; — every thing distingue is welcome there, at lainly the ton of his society is ihe best. Then there ■ M**. de start's — there I never •.">, though I might, had I courted it. It is composed of the * *a and the * * family, with a strange sprinkling, — orators, dandies, and all kinds of liho, from the regular Grub-street uniform, down to the azure jacket of the IMtt'ratrur. To -, , * I and * * sitting togeiher, at dinner, always reminds me of the grave, where all distinctions of friend and foo are levelled; and they — the Reviewer aed Reviewl* the EXTRACTS FROM A JOURNAL, 1913. 237 Rhinoceros and Elephant, the Mammoth and Megalonyx — all will lie q li ■ r. They now sit toge hi r, as silent, bm not so quiet, a> if they were already immured. * * * * * " * K I did not go to the Berry's the other night. The woman of much talent, and both are handsome, and must have been beautiful. To-night asked to Lord H.'b — shall I go? urn! perhaps. ^ "Morning, two o'clock. a Went to Lord H.'s, — party numerous — milady in perfect good-humour, and consequently perfect. Noonc le, or perhaps so much so, when she will. Asked for Wednesday to dine and meet the Stael ; — asked particularly, I believe, nut of mischief, to sec the first interview afer the notej with which Cocinne pro- fesses herself to be so much taken. I dor,'; much like always talks of myself or nerselfj an,! I am not (except in soliloquv, as now) much enamoured of either subject — especially one's Works. What (he devil shall I say about 'De I'AUemagne ? I like it prodigi but unless I can twist my admiration into some fantastical expression, she won't believe me; and I know, by expe- l shall be overwhelmed with fine things about fee. &c. The lover, Mr. Rocia, was there to- night, an 1 Campbell said ' it was the only proof he had Been of her good taste. 3 Monsieur L'Amant is remark- ably handsome ; but I do n't think more so then her book. "Campbell looks well — seemed pleased, and dressed to v A blue coat becomes him, so does his new wig. He really looked as if Apollo had sent him a birth- day suit, or a wedding-garment, and was witty and lively. * * * He abused Corirme's book, which I regret ; because, firstly, he understands German, and is conse- quently a fair judge ; and. secondly, he is first rate, and consequently, the best of judges. I reverence and admire him : but I won't give up my opinion — why should I ? I read her again and again, and there can be no affectation in tins. I cannot be mistaken (except in taste) in a book i and lay down, and take up again; and no book can be totally bad, which finds one, even one reader, who . erely. "Campbell talks of lecturing next spring; his last lec- tures were eminently successful. Moore throught of it, but give it up, I don't know why. * * had been prating dignify to him, and such stuff; as if a man disgraced himself by instructing and pleasing at the same time. 'Introduced to Marquis Buckingham — saw Lord ■ rower — he w going to Holland; Sir J. and Lady Mackintosh and Homer, G. Lamb, with, I know not how many, (R. i ,, one — a clever man,) grouped about the room. I I lenry Fox, a fine boy, and very promising in mind an I manner] — he ive-nl away to I" ■■'. before I had time to talk Eo him. I am sure I had rather hear him than all the tavern*. " M 'ii lav, Dec. 6. * Murray tells me that Croker asked him why die Hilt of Abydos? It is a cursed .1 question, being unanswerable. She is not a bride, only altout to be one ; but for, &c. &c. &c. "I don't wonder at his finding out the Bull; but the n * * * is too late to do any good. I was a great fool to make it, and am ashamed of not being an k Irishman. * * * 'Campbell last night seemed a little nettled at some- r other — 1 know not what We were standing in . -saloon, when Lord H. brought out of the other room a vessel of some composition similar to that which is used in Catholic churches, and, seeing us, he exclaimed, .. for you. 1 Campbell answered- 'Carry it to Lord Byron — he « uscdto'it} u Now, this comes of ' bearing no brother near the throne.' I, who have no throne, nor wish to have one now — whatever I may have done — rim at perfei t pe< w lib all liie poetical fraterni ■■ or, at least, if 1 any, il is not poetically, bjl personally. Surely, the field of ili >ug ;i is infinite ; - wha d ■■■■ tl signil ■ ■■■■■■: or behind in a race where there is no goal ? The temple of Fame is like that of the Persian^ die Universe ; — our altar, the tups of moun ains. I should be equally i on- lent with Mount Caucasus or Mount Anything; and those who like il may have Mont Bianc or Chitnborazo without my envy of their elevation. u I think 1 may now speak thus; fori have just pub- lished a Poem, an I am qui e ign rant whethei il is likely to betiked or not. I have hitherto heard little in its com- nen lation, anil no one can downright abuse it to one's ■ ■ ept hi print. It can't be good, or 1 should not have stumbled over the threshold, and blundered in my very title. But I begun it with heart full of * * *, and my head of orient ahtic*, (I can't call them isms,) and wrote on ra| idly, "This journal is a relief. When I am tired — as I am — out come this, and down goes every thing. But I can'l read it over ;— and God knows whal contra- lictions it may contain. If I am sincere with myself, (bul 1 f at- one lies more to one's self than to any one else,) every Rage should confute, refute, and utterly abjure its predecessi r. "Another scribble fr im Martin Baldwin the petitioner: I have m i hi r head nor nerves 'o present it. That c in- founded supper at Lewis's has spoiled my digestion and mj phi uithropv. I have no more charity than a cruet ed and soda-watered, and found oul thai the fire was badly lighted. Ld. Glenbervie wants me to go to Bi ighton urn ' " This morning a very pretty billet from the Stae"l about meeting her*at Ld. ll.'s to-morrow. She ha written, I dare say, twenty such tins morning to , all equally flattering to each. So mm h the bi ttei for her and those who believe all she wishes them, 01 thej wish t" believe. She has been pleasi .1 to be pi a e I with my slight eulogy in the note annexed to the 'Brio; I hi 1 is :■- be accounted foi in. several ways : — firs \. a women like all, or any praise j secondly, this was unfex- because 1 have, never courted her: and, thirdly, as Scroti says, those who have been all tlteir livi larlj praised, b} re ulai critics, like a little variety, am ,1. ■■ lad vi hen apj one goes otfl of his" way to saj a civi thing; and, fourthly, she is a.very good-natured creature, which is the best reason, after all, and, perhaps the onlj one. " A knock — knocks single and double. Bland called. — He lys Dutch spci6ty (he has been in Holland) is second-hand French; bui the women are like women everywhere else. This isabon ; I should like to see them a little unlike; bui that can't be expected. "Went out — came home — this, that, and the other — and ' all is vanity, saith the preacher, 1 and 30 say I, 'is part sf his congregation. Talking of vanity — whose praise do I prefer .' w hy, Mrs. [nchbald's, and thai of the Americans. The first; because hei ' Simple Story' and 'Nature and Art' are, to m , true to their title* ; and con- sequently, Her short 1 1 to R igers aboul the 'Giaour 1 1 me more than any thing, except the ESdinbui h Review. I like the American , beca e / happened to be in .fw", while the I n |li h : ' 1 tl and Scotch Review- ers were red le in America, It' 1 could have had a speech againsl die Slai < V, ■ ■< -'- . in Aj and an Epitaph on a Dog, in Europe^ [i.e. in the Morning Post,) my u tea Mui'it/twt would certainly liave 'Il placed stars enough to overthrow the Newtonian systi m. "Friday, Dec in. 181 1 "lam ermuyS beyond my usual tense of thai | verb, whieh I am ahvays euiipifaimu; ; ami 1 do n'l find that society much mends the matter, lam too lazj to shoot myself — and it would annoy Augusta, ami perhaps * * ; but it would be a good thing for Georj»e, on tl other side, and no bad one for me ; but I won't be tempted. ■' I have bad the kin ; ni Moore. I 'o think thai man is the be: I evei is feel- ings. "Dined on v. li Lord H.'s — the Staffords, , . . icr. &r. — and was in the Marquis and H arch km . ■ ndered i; improper, ( suppose, brought il about. But, it' 11 was 10 ill, 1 w« 1, - r il did not occur be&re. She is handsome, and musi have been beautiful — and her maimers ari ? * * "The StaCI was a ol '' labli , and less loquaciou We are nov i tie whether I bad res 1 ■ . ! ra as wi ■ ■■ v ; , efore she told C. L. 'c ■ ■■ i have oOt, and so— s US*! ■ " Murray prospers, as far a ■ : -my Fragment. J — :u\ mind is a 5ra jmertt " Saw Lord G ! ney,&c.inthe square. Took leave of Lord Gr. whoisgoinglo Holland and Germany, tie tells me, that he carries with him a para and 'Giaours,' &c. for Ihe readers of Berlin, who, it ■ 1 ,, and : . . . I 'in ' — ! avelbeen Gi turn al! thu time, when I I myself oriental ? * * * . irrow ; and ret 1 i read it, and endeavoui author. I hate , v. ith 1 a-. 1! ; bui a comedy 1 lake to be the 1 ,l_v. •'Gal. first part of 'the Bride 1 and some story of his — wh< I or no-,, I know iin^iinn I ,.imi._ ■ - 1 1 ti il . He is almosrtthe last person \ >n v, bom at erary lar- ceny, and T am noi cona i ,,i ' any ;enus. A- to originality, all pretensions are ludi- crou . — ' there is nothing new under the sun.' lay. + * * * [nvited bui to a par"., bui did noi go ; — right, R I to go to Lady * ""son Monday; — right again. Il* I must Critter away mylife, I would ratherdo it alone. I was much tempted ; — C * * looked i i Turki h with her I turbai and her regular dark and clear featun s. Not that she and / evef were, or could I"-, an) thing ; but I love anj aspect thai reminds me of die 'children of tlio sun.' To dine to-day with Rogers and Sharpe, for which I ime appetite, n ceding forty-eight hours. I wish I « .1 together. rati Dec. 11. tt Sunday, I tec. i:. "By Gait's answer, I find it is somi nal liff, and 11 "■ work with which mj late composition coin- ■ides. Tt is siii. more singular, for mine is drawn from ■ "I have smt an excuse to M. de Stael. 1 do noi reel h for dinner to-day ; and I will noi go to Sheridan's on Wednesday. Not that I do aol admire ami prefer his unequalled conversation ; but — '.hat 'hut 1 IllllSt OIlK |ir in- .: ih'e In li^n ;ii' - 1 • at>N"t Ui i'< ridan was m good talk al Rog' rs's the othi i ni -hi, but I onlystayed till nine. All the world are to 1" a o-night,and [am noi »rry to escape any part of it. I only go oul to ■-■ I me a fresh appetite for boing alone. Went out — did not go to the Stael's, but to Ld . Holland's. Party numerous — conversation general. Stayed late — EXTRACTS FROM A JOURNAL, 1814. 239 made a blunder— got over il — ame home ami went to bed, not having eaten. B but Jnwa, which is the great point with me. "Monday, Dec. 13,1813. "Called at three places— .read, and got ready to leave tow,, to-morroiv. Murray has had a letter from bis Bibliopole of gdmburgh, whi i saj - ' he is lucky in '., poef-^omething as il one was apack- h .rscor'ass, or .... thing I let .- his :'or, like Mrs.Paca- v.ood, who replied to some inquiry afer the Odes on Razor,, ' Caw.sir, we keeps a Poet.' The same dlus- irious Edinburgh bookseller on e sent an order for books, , s , an I c ry, wi h this a prei able p is script-^ 1 lie H , M and Cookery are much wanted.' Such is fame, and afer all. quite as g 1 as any other'life mothers "1 is much the same to divide purchasers with Hannah Glasse or Hannah More. "Some editor of some Magazine has announced to Murray his intention of abusing the thing ' without read- mg it' So much the better; ifhe.redde it first, he abuse it more. "Allen (Lord Holland's Allen— the best informed and one of the ablest men I know— a perfect Magliabecchi— ,a Helluoof 1 ks, andan observer of men) has lent m< a quantity of Buros's unpublished, and never- to-be-published, Letters. Tbey are full of oaths and obscene songs. What an antitheticaj mind !— tenderness, roughness— delicacy, coarseness-sentiment, sensuality- soaring and grovelling, dirt and deny— all mixed up in that one compound of inspired clay ! " It seems strange ; a true voluptuary will never aban- don his mind to the grossness of reality. It is by exalting the earthly, the material, the pJtysiowi of our pleasures, by veiling these ideas, by forgetting them altogether, or, at least, never naming them hardh, to/me's self, that we alone can prevent them from disgusting. ******* "Dee. 14, 15, 16. « Mu< h dune, but nothing to record. It is quite enough to set down my thoughts; my actions will rarely bear retrospection. qung Babyloniam of , ality — solburstouta'laughir.g. ti ..... really odd ' ly * " tfit ! bos tome,and the next and the next, were Ihe roost distinguished old and "Jan. 16,1814. * * * * * * "To-morrow I h-ave town for a few days. I saw Lewis to-dav, who hasjust returned from Oatlands, where he has been squabbling with Mad. de Stael about him- self Clarissa Harlowe, Mackintosh, and me. My homage has never been paid in that quarter, or we would have agreed still worse. I don't talk— I can't flatter, and won't listen, except to a pretty or a foolish woman. She bored Lewis with praises of himself till he sickened— found out that Clarissa was perfection, and Mackintosh the first man in England. There I agree, at least, one of Ihe first— but Lewis did not. As to Clarissa, I leave to those who can read it lo judge and dispute. I could not do the one, and am, Cfflisequendy; not qualified for the other. She told Lewis wisely, he being my friend, that 1 was affected, in the first place, and that, in the next place, I commuted the heinous offence of sitting at dinner with my eyes shut, or half shut. * * * I wonder if I really have tins trick. I must cure myself of it, if true. nsibly acquires awkward habits, which should be broken in time. If this is one, I wish I had been told of il before. It would not so much signify if one pas always to be checkmated by a plain woman, but one may as well see some of one's neighbours, as well as the plate upon the table. » I should like, of all things, to have heard the AmabtKan eclogue between her and Lewis,— both obstinate, clever odd, garrulous, and shrill. In fact, one could have heard nothing else. But they fell out, alas!— and now they will never quarrel again. Could not one reconcile thi m for the ' nonce ?' Poor Corinne,— she will find Ihat some of her fine sayings won't suit our fine ladies and gentle- men. " I am setting rather into admiration of * *, the young- est sister of * *. A wife would be my salvation. 1 am sure the wives of my acquaintances have hitherto done me little «ood. * * is beautiful, but very young, and, I think, a fool. But I have not seen enough to judge ; be- sides, 1 hate an esprit in petticoats. That she won't love me is very probable, nor shall I love her. But, on my t Tlir.e imnK» art r i paltry compensation. I do fear mv temper would lead rne into some bf our oriental tru-ks of vengeance, or, at any rate, nto a summary appeal to the court of twelve pacts. So I '11 none on V °ut e'en remain single and solitary; — &ough I should like to have somebody now and then, to yawn w nil one. " Ward, and, after him, * *, has stolen one of mj buffooneries about Mde. de StaeTs Metaphysics and the I i I passed it, by speech and letter, as their own. As Gibbet says, 'they are the mosl of a gentleman 61 any on tin- road. 1 AN', is m sad enmity with the Whigs about this review of Kox, (if lie did review him ;) — all the epigrammatists and essayists are at him. I hate " '■/,, and wish he may beat them. As for me, by the of indifference, I have simplified my publics mio an utter detestation of all existing governments ; and, as it ia the shortest and most agreeable and summary feeling imaginable, the first moment of a universal republic would rerl me into an advocate for single and uncontradicted despotism. The fact is, riches are power, and povertv i ivery, all over the earth, and one sort ofestablishmenl is do better, nor worse, for a people than another, 1 shall adhere i y party, because it would not he honousnl le to act otherwise ; but, as to opinions, I do n't think poli- rrtfl an opinion. Conduct is another thing: — if V"U nli a party, go on with them. I have no consis- tency, except in politics, and thai probably arises from u.y indifference on the subject altogether. "February 18. "Better than a month since I last journalized: — most of it out of London, and at Notts., but a busy one and a ml, at least three weeks of it. On my return, I find all the newspapers in hysterics, and town in an uproar, 0D tin avowal and republication of two stanzas on Prin- cess ' fharlotte's weeping at Regency's speech to Lauder- dale in 1812, They are daily at it still; — some of the abuse good, all of it hearty. They talk of a motion in our House Upon II — be it so. " i tot up — read the Morning Post containing the battle of Buonaparte, the destruction of the Custom-house, and a paragraph on ine as long as my pedigree, and vitupera- tive, as usual. * * * "Hobhouse is returned to England. He is my best friend, the most lively, and a man of the most sterling talents extant, "'The Corsair' has been conceived, written, published, Stc. since I last took up this Journal. They tell me it has great success; — it was written con amore, and much from esutencs, Murray is satisfied with its progress : and if" the public are equally so with the perusal, il. end of the matter. " Nino o'clock. "Been to Hanson's on business. Saw Rogers ami had a note from Lady Melbourne, who says, it is sail that I am ' much nut of spirits.' I wonder if I really an or not? I have certainly enough of 'that perilous stuff which weighs upon the heart, 1 and it is better they should believe it to bo the result of these attacks than of Un- real cause ; but — ay, ay, always 6u£, to the end of the chapter. * " * " Hobhouse has told me ten thousand anecdotes al i, all good and true. M) friend II. is the most entertaining of companions, and a t boot. Kedile a little — wrote notes and letters, and am alone, which, Locke says, is bad company. 'Be not solitary, Ik> -I'm! — the idleness is troublesome ; but I can't bi i i much to regret in the ■ u le, 1 he more I see of men, (he less 1 like them. If I could but say so of women too, all would be well. Why can't I? I am now Btt-and-twonty ; my passions have had.enot .ill them: ni) affections nine than enough to wither ■ i.i . i : ■ .—ami yet — always //'/ and but — ' K\c..l- : you are a fishmongi 1 They fool tne to the top of my bent.' "Midnight. "Began a letter, which I threw int.. the tire. R.-dile — but to bale purpose. Did not visit Hobhot 1 promised and ought. No matter, the l«-*s i*. mine. Smoki d cigars. u Napoleon ! — this week will ate. All seem against bun; but I believe and hope he will win — at .i beat back the invaders. What right have we to prescribe sovereigns I i I ranee? Oh for a republic! ■ Brutus, th<.u sic pest.' Hobhouse abounds in oonnV Mental anecdotes of this extraordinary man; all in favour of his intellect and courage, but against bis bonhomnnc. No wonder ; — how should he, who knows mankind well, do other than despise and abhor them. " The greater the equality, the more impartially evil is distributed, and becomes lighter by the division among so many — th< red ire, a i public ! "More notes from Mad. de 5ta< I unanswered — and so ll iey shall remain. I admire her abilities, but really her society is overwhelming — an avalanche thai buries one in glittering n msensc — all snow and sophistry. u Shall I go to Mackintosh's on Tuesday .' ton! — I did not go to Marquis Lonsdowne's, nor to Miss Berry's thougfl both are pleasant. So is Sir Jameses, — but I doni know — I believe one is not the better for parties; al least, unless some ngtUOUe is there. " I wonder how the deuse any body conk! make Buch a world; fur what purpose dandies, lor instance, were or- dained — and kings — and fellows of colleges — and women of ' a certain age' — and many men of any age — and myself, most of all! ' Dlreene priscoet nniu* nb Inaclu*, Nil Interest, Mil pauper, •■! iij!"iiji4 De genie i sub dm moreria, VkUmi ml uleenunUi » li el. Omnes eodcin cogiinur.' "Is there any thing beyond? — who knows? He that can't tell. Who tells that there uf He who know. And when shall he know? perhaps, when ho don't expect, and, generally, when be do n't wish it. In ibis last respect, however, all are not alike : it depends a 'nuni deal ujion education, — something upon nerves and habits — hut most upon digestion. "Saturday, Feb. 19. " Just returned from seeing K-'an in Richard. By love, he is a soul! I. lie— nature — truth — without ex- aggen nor diminution. Kemble's Hamlet is perfeol . — but 1 1. unlet is not Nature. Richard is a man ; and Kean i^ Richard. Now to my own concerns. * * * * * ■ Went to Waite's. Teeth all right and white ; but he says that I grind them in my sleep and chip the edges. That same sleep is no friend of mine, though I court him sometimes lor half the £4, ■ February 90. "Got up and tore out two leaves of this Journal — I EXTRACTS FROM A JOURNAL, UUA. 241 &vn\ know why. Hodgson just railed and gone. He has much bonkommit with bfa other good qualities, and mora talent than he has yet had credit fur beyond his Circle. "An invitation todtne at Holland-house tn meet Kean. Ho la worth meeting; and I hope, by getting into good he will be prevented from falling like Cooke. Hn er now on the stage, and off he should never be [ess. 'l upid and underrating criticism upon him in on ■ vspapers. 1 thought that, last night, thuii-'h great, he rather underacted more than the first tune. This may be the effect of these cavils ; but I hope he has more sense than to muni them. He cannot expect to maintain his present eminence, or to advance still without the envy of his green-room fellows, an 1 the nibbling of their admirers. But, if he don't heat then a!(, why, then — meat hath no purchase in 'these COSter-m nger days.' "I wish that I had a talent for the drama; 1 wonld write a tragedy now. But no.— it is gone. Hodgson talks of one, — he will do it well; — and I think Moore should trv. He has wonderful powers, and much variety ; besides, he has lived and felt. To write so as to bring home to the heart, the heart must have been tried, — but, . ceased to be so. While you are under the influ- ence of passion -s you only feel, but cannot describe them. — any more than, when in action, you could turn round, and tell the story to your next neighbour ! When all is over, — all, all, and irrevocable, — trust to memory — she is then but too faithful, " Went out, and answered some letter^ yawned now and then, and redde the Robbers. Fine, — but Fiesco is better; and Allien and Monti's Aristodemo best. They are more espial than the Tedeschi dramatists. "Answered — or, rather, acknowledged — the receipt of young Reynold's Poem, Sane. The lad is clever, but mucb of his thoughts are borrowed, — whence, the Review- ers may find out. I hate discouraging a young one; and I think, — though wild, and more oriental than he would be, had he seen the scenes where he has placed his Tale, — that he has much lalent, and certainly, fire enough. 'Received a very singular epistle ; and the mode of its nice, though Lord H.'s hands, as curious as the letter itself. But it was gratifying and pretty. "Sunday, F.-h. 21. "Here I am, alone, instead of dumig at L'>rd H.'s, where 1 was asked, — but not inclined to go any when . iusg savs I am growing a toup garoUf — a solitary hobgoblin. True ; — ' I am myself alone.' The last week has been passed in reading — seeing plaj s — now and then. visiters — sometimes yawning and sometimes sighing, bus DO writing — save of letters. If I could always read, I should never feel the wan) of society. Do I regret it ? — uiu!— 'Man delights nut me,' and only one woman — at a lime. "There is something to me very softening in the pre- sence of a woman, — some strange influence, even if one m not in love with them, — which I cannot at all account f"r, having no very high opinion of the sex. But yet, — I feel in better humour with myself and every thing else, if there is a woman within ken. Even Mrs. Mule, mv fire-lighter, — the most ancient and withered of he kind, — and (except to myself) not the best tempered — always makes me laugh, — no difficult task when I am * i 1 the vein.' " IJeJgho ! I would I were in mine island ! — I am not well ; and yet L look in good health. At times, I fear, •I am not in my perfect mind ;' — and yet my heart and head have stood many a crash, and what should ail them DOW ? They prey upon themselves, and [ am sick — siek — 'Prithee, undo this button; why should a cat, a rat, a dog, have life, and Otou no life at all? Six-and-twentv years, as they call them: — why, I mijjht and should have 31 been a Pasha by this time. ' I 'gin to be a weary of the sun.' " Buonaparte is tint yet beaten ; but lias rebutted Blucher, and repiqued Swarlzenburg. This it is to have a head. If lie again wins, ' Vai vie is!' "Sunday, March 6. "On Tuesday last dined with Rogers, — Mad*, de si;,, I, Mackintosh, Sheridan, Er.-kme, and Payne Knight, Lady Donegal! and Miss R. there. Sheridan told a ,,:v good story of himself and M e .de Recamier's hand- kerehii t; Erskine a few. stories of himself only. She is going to write a big book about England, she says; — I believe her. Asked by her how I liked Miss * * 's thing, called * *, and answered (very sincerely) that I thought u very bad for fter, and \\f>r>e than any of the others. Afterward thought it possible Lady Donegal!, being Irish, might he a Patroness of * *, and was rather sorry for my opini m, as I hate putting people into fusses, either with themselves, or their favourites: it looks as if one did it on purpose. The party went off very well, and the fish was very much to my gusto. But we got up too soon after the women ; and Mrs. Connne always lingers so long after dinner, that we wish her in — the drawing room. "To-day C. called, and, while sitting here, in came Men vale. During our colloquy, C. (ignorant that M. was the writer) abused the ' mawkishness of the Quar- terly Review of Grimm's Correspondence.' I (knowing the secret) changed the conversation as soon as I could; and C. went away, quite convinced of having made the most favourable impression on his new acquaintance. Menvale is luckily a very good-natured fellow, or God he knows what might have been engendered from such a malaprop. I did not look at him while this was going on, hut I fell like a coal,— for I like Menvale, as well as the article in question. * ***** * * Asked to Ladv Keith's to-morrow evening — I think 1 will go; but it is the first party invitation t have accepted this ' season, 1 as the learned Fletcher called it, when that youngest brat of Lady * * 's cut my eye and cheek open with a misdirected pebble — 'Nevermind, my lord, the sear will De gone before the season f as if one's eye was of no importance in the mean time. ■ Lord Erskine called, and gave me his famous pamph- let, with a margins) note and corrections in his handwri- ting. Sent it to he bound superbly, and shall treasure it. ft Sent my hue print of Napoleon to be framed. It is framed ; and the emperor becomes his robes as if he had been hatched in them. B March 7. tf Rose at seven — ready by half past eight — went to Mr. Hanson's, Berkelev-square — went to church with his el li I dao-diter. Mary Anne, (a good girl,) and gave her away to the Karl of Portsmouth. Saw her fairly a countess — congratulated the family and grocm (bride) — drank a bumper of wine (wholesome shems) to their felicity, and all that, — and came home. Asked to stay to dinner, but could not. At three sat to Phillips for fai • . Called on Lady M. — I like her so well, that I always stay too long, (Mem. — to mend of that.) 'Passed the evening with Hobhouse, who has begun a Poem, which promises highly; — wish he would go on with it. Heard some curious extracts from a life of Morosini, the blundering Venetian, who blew up the Acropolis at Alliens with a bomb, and be d — d to him! Waxed sleepy,— just come home, — must go to bed, and am engaged to meet Sheridan lo-rnorrow at Rogers's. "Queer ceremony that same of marriage — saw many abroad, Greek and Catholic — one, at Aome, many years ago. There be some strange phrases in the prologue, (the exhortation,) which made me t*irn away, not to laugh in the faco of the surpliceman. Made one blunder, wher 242 EXTRACTS FROM A JOURNAL, 1811. I joined the hands of the happy — rammed their left hands, by mistake, into one another. Corrected il — bustled back to the altar-rail, and said 'Amen.' Ports- mouth responded as if he had got the whole by heart; and, if any thing, was rather before the priest. It is now midnight, and * * * "March 10, Trior's Day. "On Tuesday dined with Rogers — Mackintosh, Sheri- dan, Sharpe — much talk, and good — all, exe.-pi i.i;> "'•■■n little prattlement. Much of old times — Home Tooke, — the Trials, — evidence of Sheridan,— and anecdotes of those times, when /, alas! was an infant* If 1 had been a man, I would have made an English Lord Edward Fitzgerald. '•Set down Sheridan at Brookes^ — where, by-ttie-by, he could doI have well s<-t down himself] as he ami I were the only drinkers. Sherry means in stand for Westmin- ster, as Cochrane (the stock-jobbing hoa\er) must vacate. Brougham is a candidate. I fear for poor dear Sherry. Both have talents of thi highest order, but the yc has^da charaeter. We shall Bee, it" lie livi to Shi age, how he will pass over ih'- red-hot ploughshares of* public life. I do ifi know why, but I hate to see the old ones lose ; particularly Sheridan, notwithstanding all his mtclianceU. "Received many, and the kindest, thanks from Lady Portsmouth, plre and 7«f her 1 love, (God knows too well, and die Devil probably inn.) without a yearning fur the company of mv lamp and my utterly confused and tumbled-over library. Even in the iUv, I -< ml away mv carnage oftener than I use or abuse it, Par esempiof—l bave not Btirred out of these for these four days past: but I have sparred for exercise (windows open) with Jackson an hour daily, to attenuate and keep up the ethereal part of me. The more violent the fatigue, the botti r mj spirits for die rest of the day ; and then, my evenings have that calm m nessof languor, which I most delight in. To-da\ I have boxed one hour — written anode to Napoleon Buonaparte —Copied It — eaten six biscuits — drunk four but soda-water — redds away the rest of my time — besides giving | r * * a world of advice about this his, who is plaguing him into a phthisic and inb teihoiisn.-ss. I am a pretty fellow truly to lecture about ' the sect. 1 No matter, my counsels are all thrown away 1 April 19, 1814. "There is ice at both poles, north and south — al extremes are the same — misery belongs to the highest and the lowest only, — to the emperor and the beggar, when unsixpenced and unthroned. There is, to be sure, a damned insipid medium — an equinoctial line — no one knows where, except upon maps and measurement. 1 Ami nil our ytxterdays have lighted fool* 'llu. n ay tu dusty death.' I will keep no further journal of that same hesternal torchlight ; and, to prevent me from returning like a i\op, to the vomit of memory, I tear out the remaining [eaves of this volume, and write, in ipecacuanha, — 'that the Hourbons are restored!!!' 'Hang up philosophy.* To bo sure, I have long despised myself and man, but I never spat in the face of my soecies before — ' O fool ! I shall go mad.'" EXTRACTS FROM A JOURNAL IN SWITZERLAND. "September IS, ]S16. 11 Yesterday, September I7tli, I set OUJ with Mr. Hob- iuse on an excursion of some days to the mountains. "September 17. "Rose at five ; left Diodati about seven, in on-' of the country carriage-., (a char-a-banc,) our servants on horse- back. Weather very tine ; the lake calm and clear : Mont Blanc and the Aiguille of Argentines both verv distinct; the borders of the lake beautiful. Reached Lausanne before sunset ; stopped and slept at , Went to bed at nine ; slept till tive o'clock, "September 18. " Called by my courier ; got up. Hobhouse w alked on Before. A mile from Lausanne, the road oversowed bv the lake ; got on horseback, and rode till within a mile of Vevay. The coll young, hut went very well. Overtook Hobhouse, and resumed the carriage, which is an open one. Stopped at Vevay two hours, (the second time I had visited it;) walked to the churcn; view from the churchyard superb: wnhin it General Ludlon (the regi- cideV) monument — black marble — long inscription — Latin, but simple ; he was an exile two-and-thii — one of king Charles's judges. Near him Broughtnn (who read Kmg Charles's sentence to < Sharles Stuart) is buried, with a queer and rather canting but still a republi- can inscription. Ludlow r s house shown; it retains siill its inscription—' Omne solum forti palria.' Walked down to the lake side ; servants, carriage, saddle- horses — all set off and left us ptantt's ft, by some mistake, and ww walked on after them towards Clarens ; Hobhouse EXTRACTS FROM A JOURNAL, 181fi. 245 ran on before, and overlook them at last. Arrived the ■second tune (first lime was by water) ai Clarens. Wenl to ChiUon through scenery worthy o\' I know not whom ; wenl over the Castle of ChiUon again. On our return met an English party in a carriage ; a la ly in it fast av ,-,|, — faai , ( , , «j in the mosl anli-n ircotic spot in the world— excellent ! I remember ai Chamouni, in the pi rj ey a of M ml Blanc, hearing another woman. English claim to In r party. ' Did you ever sec any thing more rural? — as it' it was tfighgate, or Hampstead, or id, or Hayes — * Rural P.quoiha? — Rocks, pines, i glaciers, clouds, and summits of eternal snow far , m — .in ■ ' rural!' ".U'i.t a slight and short dinner we visited the Chateau de Clarens;* an English woman has rented it recently not let when 1 saw ii first ;) the roses are gone with their summer \ die family out, but the servants de- sired OS to walk over the interior of ihe mansion. Saw on the table of the saloon Blairs Sermons, and s< else ( I forget who's) sermons, and a set of noisy children. Saw all worth seeing, and then descended to the ' Bosquel de Julie,' Sac. &c. ; our guide full of Rousseau, whom lie i ii ally confounding with St. Preux, and mixing the man and tlie book. Went again as far as ChiUon to revisil the fitde torrent from (he hill behind it. Sunset in Have to get up at five to-morrow to cross the mountains on horseback ; carriage to be sent round; lodged at my old cottage — hospitable and com- fortable; tired with a longish ride on the colt, and the subsequent jolting of the char-a-banc, and my scramble in the hot sun. ■Mem. The corporal who showed the wonders of : was as drunk as Blucher ; he was deaf also, and thinking every one else so, roared out the legends of the casde so fearfully. — However, we saw things from the gallows to the dungeons,f (the potence and the cuch/jts,) and returned to Clarens with more freedom than belonged to tfie fifteenth century. "September 19. "Rose at five. Crossed the mountains to Montbovon on horseback, and on mules, and, by dint of scrambling, on foot also ; the whole route beautifiU as a dream, and now to me almost as indistinct. I am so tired ; — for though I have no! the strength I possessed but a few y - ears ago. At Montbovon we breakfasted ; afterward, on a steep ascent, dismounted; tumbled down; cut a anger open ; the baggage also got loose and fell down a ravine, till stopped by a targe tree; recovered baggage ; horse tired and drooping; mounted mule. At the ap- i of the summit of Dent JumentJ dismounted again with Hobhouse and all the party. Arrived at a lake m the verv bosom of the mountains; left our quadrupeds with a shepherd, and ascended farther; came to some mow in patches, upon which my forehead's perspiration fell like rain, making the same dints as in a sieve ; the chill of 'in wind and die snow turned me giddv, but I srram- bled on and upwards. Hobhouse went to the highest ; I did not, but paused within a few yards (at an opening of the clid.) In coming down, the guide tumbled three times; I fell a hughihg, and tumbled too — the i ickily soft, though steep arnl slippery: Hobhouse aUn fell, but nobody hurt. The whole of the mountain superb. A shepherd on a very steep and high cliff play- mhisng»;§ very different from Arcadia^ where I law the pastors with along musket instead of a crook, and pistols in their girdles. Our Swiss shepherd's pipe veet, and his tune agreeable. I saw a cow i am told tl'at they often break their necks on and over the crags. Descended toM nlbovon; pretty scraggy village, with a wild river and a wooden bridge. Eiobhouse wen * S« Child* Harold, Cmiu III, Stanu », ftc. 33d Note to Child. Harold, Canto 111. t Pritoner of < uUloo, Note 3d, &c. i Uiiit Ut Jiinio . % AUiifrtJ, Acl 1. Scene 'it. to fish— caught one. Our carriage not come ; our horse* mules, &c. knocked up ; ourselves fatigued. 8 The view from the l.ighest points of to-day's journey c imprised on one bide the greatest part of Lake Leman ; on uie other, the valleys and mountain of the canton oi Fribourg] an m inun< use plain, w ith the lakes of Neu£ chatel ami Moral, and all which the borders of the Lake of Geneva inherit , we had both sides of the Jura before us in one point of view, ivuji Alps in plenty. In passing a ravine, the guide recommeni ■ a quickening of pace, as the bt'Jiies fall with grval rapidity and occa- sional damage ; the advice is excellent, but, like most good advice, impracticable, the roa I bi ing so rough thai aei her mules, nor mankind, nor horses, can make any violent progress. Passed without frai tures or menace thereof. '• The music of the cow's bells* (tor their wealth, like the patriarch's, is cattle) iu the pastures, which reach to a height fai above am mounrains in Britain, and the shep- herds shouting to us from crag to crag, and playing on "Jieir reeds where the steeps app tared almost inaccessible. a ith the surrounding scenery, realized all that 1 have ever in ard or imagined of a pastoral existence: — much more so than Greece or Asia Minor ; (or there we are a little too mico^f the sabre and musket order, and if there is a crook in one I. an I, vi»u are >ure to see a gun in the other: — but this was pure and unmixed — solitary, savage, and patri- archal. As we went, they played the 'Rans des Vaches 1 and other airs, by way of farewell. I have lately repeopled my mind with nature. "September 20. "Up at six; off at eight. The whole of this day's journey at an average of between from 2700 to 3000 feet above the level of die sea. This valley, the longest, nar- rowest, and considered the finest of the Alps, little traversed by travellers. Saw the bridge of La Roche. The bed of the river very low and deep, between immense rocks, and rapid as anger ; — a man and mule said to have tumbled over without damage. The people looked free, and happy, and rich (which last implies neither of the former:) the cows superb ; a bull nearly leaped into tlie char-a-banc — ■ 'agreeable companion iu a postchaise ;' goats and sheep very thriving. A mountain with enormous glaciers to the right — the Khtzg;erberg; farther on, the Hockthorn — nice names — so soft! — Stockltorn, I believe, very lofty and scraggy, patched with snow only; no glaciers on it, but some good epaulettes of clouds. "Passed the boundaries, out of Vaud and into Berne canton; French exchanged for bad German; the district famous for cheese, liberty, property, and no taxes. Hob- house went to fish — caught none. Strolled to tlie river ; saw boy and kul; kid followed him like a dog; kid could not gel ovi r a few e, ami bleated piteouslv; tried mvself, to help kid, but nearly overset both sell* and kid into the river. Arrived here about six m the evening. Nine o'clock — going to bed ; not tired to-day, but hope to sleep, nevertheless. * u September 21. "Off* early. The valley of Simmenthal as before. En- trance to the plain of Thoun very narrow ; high rocks, wooded to the top ; river ; new mountains, with tine glaciers. Lake of Thoun ; extensive plain with a girdle of Alps. Walked down to the Chateau de Schadao; view along the lake; crossed the river in a boat rowed by women, Thoun a very pretty town. The whole day's journey Alpine ami proud. •September 22. "Left Thoun in a boat, which carried us the length ol the lake in three hours. The lake small; bill the banks fine. Rocks down to the water's edge. Landed at New- bause; passed Interlachen; entered upon a range ot scenes beyond all description, or previous conception. • M aufred Act I. Scene *d EXTRACTS FROM A JOVRNAL, 1816. 2-16 iwla'rek;insmp.Ton-two brothers-one rr, Ker^meptoce for it. After a variety., SmTwi e as rodt. Arrived „< Ihe 6 torrents;™ of. ^ '""'' ''""'^ 7 s , uu. o rfvigible descent. Lodged a. the curate's. ,. v; , ;ll , ; heard an avalanche fall, ike thunder; E^rfecdon.andbeaudful.Iw. warned to carr^ my c ! I was going to give ithun, llectedthatit was > sword-suck, and I though g mighl I- attracted towards him, keptu ,„ ., ,,..,1 ,1,-al in.- bored ",th ,., as « was too ■ p ^U.ehorsewasstupKl.andBtooQ^h , . p ,,. Sot in, not very wet, the cloak being 2h Hobl se wet through; Hobhouse took refug, J ,,,.,... sen. man, umbrella, and cloak (from di, curate^whenlarrivedjafterhirn. Swisscuj* , od indeed-much better than mosl Engl. . vicar i, Is immediately opposite the torrent The torrent is in shap, goverth, ,. kjbfa .die tm of awl,,,.- horse streaming in the wmd, such a, itn I. be C aived would be lhatofihe'pale bora Dead > I* y ' ■ 1 '—"'*™ s h e ,»ht (nine hundred feet) gives ,. a wave or curve, 3oing her^ or condensa'uon. here wonderful and md • .. . . ° ■ .i • i .. ,1... ..h..'.- I i:i» 1 lis L wMe «h7rf.i •;'■- ' r "" k ' . J don. by . winter. ■ September 34 ■ Set off at seven; up a- Gve. I „,„„. r ,i,e mountain Wctte.horn on ihe right: a feeideck, ..,- .-..* « j ■;,•;;: and fin Switzerland, fi ink tta wo bu d ; edabtUe;onl) four , R, then '" Ihe town ol Bnentz; rh.mtcd. in EM? £3 , j right's rest; I shall go down and* dancing. « September 25. • The whole town of Brientz were appar, , ,1,-r iii the i„- below; prett) muse andeiceUein waWig: n. but peasants; the dancing * belter Bcribabl ^condensation .here wonderful and * ^' ™^ a, , uld, I drink, upon die whole, that today has been r'^X ma» * bi. FV' ' s ''' '"'' better than any of U„s present excursion « Septemb, i iBefore ascending the mountain, went to di r'venm. rung) again ; the sun upon it, for. g. of die 1 r part of aU colours, but pruKyaUj purple and gold; the g<*3 Lw anv tin.,, ukc d.« ; i. . ""; JvaUe" oended Wenge Main ; at noon re ached av alley on the summit ;lefl -, took id! ,,, went to die summit, seven d and feet (English feet » •- W,i -.I,.-,..,, Ul tnved • Ubo« the valley we left in the morning. On one side, ou, tnev, ctpriS ,: gfrau,withallhe, *«-!*■« * Dentd'Argent,sh g tike truth ; Aen die L.tdeGian^ (1|1 Kl..i,.:ii.gWr:)a,»ld.eGr l -at(i,a...,(.» , Gro Eigher.) andlalt, not least, the Wetterhorn. Ttehe^ta of Uie Jungfrau is 13,000 fee. above the sea, 11£H abov S* valley! she is the highest of ttus ge. B*ardthe avalanches faffing every five minutes nearly. From whence we stood, on the Wengen Alp4 we had all dies. in view on ones.de; on .he other, the clouds rose ft ,1 ,osi» valley, curling up perpendicular , hk , ,|!.! foam of the ocean nf hell, durn.^ a spring ud. i, was white and sulphury, and «surabl} deep m appearance. The side we asce. lwas(ol c ne) no ofTJredp.tou,a ;1 ■ "' we kiked .1 -.mi upon .he other side upon a bolting sea of cloud, dasfitog against die crags or. which we _etood, lequite perpendicular.) Stayed , ; „ 1 , r „l'a„h„ii,:i lescend;q cloud on that side of the tain In^ W d,< i masses of snow, I made a snowball and pelted Hobhouse , «Go, down 'i horses again; eal something; re- d; heard .he aval hes still ; came tea morass Hobhouse dismounted logo, over well;! ired to pass mv horse over; .he horse sunk op to the chin, and of c?„™ he and I were to *e. mud together; tenured, bu, """oft; laughed, and rode on. Arriv, ,l a. the I „.,, del- wald dned, mounted ag , nd fde to ,«ta In - :, l; , ( „: r _|,Ue' a fr»,„ ,„„,„■ ,.§ Starlight, l»auufid, but a devil of a path! Never mindj go. safe .n, a little li..l„„in«, but .he whole of the daj as fine in poin. of ff« the day on which Parad>se was made. Passed I. One man with his | >" his mouth, but IS well as. *«.««■ .her .la,,.,., in pair. . . and verj | I. 1 wen. -bed, but he ,,!,, rTnued below late and early. Bnenft but a ..„:,,. R« ly- Embarked on thelake of Bnent«; ™^edbythewome long boa. ; presently we pu. .to I another woman jumped m. It seem, it ■ dte cWmhere tor the boats to be mam **;«*» I,,.",,,,. ,„,,, andd ■n.nour bark, all .hew en took an oar, and bul one man. "Go. to lnlerlacl.cn in three hoors ; pretty lake ; not „ bl „. as that of Thoun. Dined al Interlachen. G,rl LTrne. >Ao« t and made „ sp, *ch ,,,. .erne,,, o?v, hi know nothing; I do not know wheberthe Led pretty, bu. as the i u,„ was, I hope so. t -embarked on the lake ol Thoun; fe <*2*«* , lH . „. iv; s.:,,t our horses round; found people on the „„,, bl gup. rockwidigunpowder^eyWewtf n ne,r our boa'only telling us a „„„„„■ M.«= , -.-.ner. ttmitebutth. ,ht have broken our r,,»ldlcs Got ,,,. ,,,,„, mtlR .e,.,. ,,,,;.!»■ -a.h.r has been tolerable L ™ h0 le day . But as .be wdd part of our tour is ,,„.... „.l..n te ; „,allu,e,es,rahle,- ';;;, I|[V1 . been most lucky to warmih and deem atmosphere. •September 26. • Betoe out of the mountains, my journal must be as „,, u my ioumey. From Tl to Berne,good road, KedZrtlies, industry, property,^ all sortaj f token. F' Berne to Fnbourg;d - ' ,< athotics; passed I of I le; Sw« bea the French in o f die lab w« »g«ns' '"« p reDC h republic Bough, a dog. The „.„:,, ,,a,. of thi, tour has b, , D on boi leback, on too,, and on mule. « September 88. . Saw ,],„ ,„,• planted in honour of the b. Mora. ; three hundred a,„l forty yeart old ; a got decayed Led Fril g, but Brsl saw die cathedral; Kwer Overtook u,eba» e a,eof,he,ni,,s,.t .a •l>app,, who are removmj to Nor.nandv, aften.ard a coach with a quandty of nuns in ... Proceeded along Z Lksof th lake'of Neufchatel; very pleas.ng and •MitifrvMl Aein.SeeneW t Ibid, Acl 11. Secue 2*1. I Manfred , AclI.Scfne2. JlUd, Acl II. Scoue 3d. ;S^,^,^" , s^ S o„ l ^ r s^„56. EXTRACTS FROM A JOURNAL. 247 soft, but not so mountainous — at least, the Jura, not ap- pearing so, after the Bernese Alps. Reached YVerduii in the dusk; a long line of large trees on the border of the lake; fine and sombre; the Auberge nearly full — a German Princess and suite ; got rooms. "September 29. "Passed through a fine and flourishing country, but not mountainous. In the evening reached Auboune, (the entrance and bridge something like that of Durham,) which commands by far the fairest view of the Lake of Geneva ; twilight; the moon on the lake; a grove uu the height, and of very noble trees. Here Tavernier (the eastern traveller) bought (or built) the chateau, because the site resembled and equalled that of Erivan, a frontier city of Persia ; here he finished his voyages, and I this little excursion, — for I am within a few hours of Diodati and have little more to see, and no more to say." EXTRACTS FROM A JOURNAL IN ITALY. B Ravenna, January 4, 1821. Bt A sudden thought strikes me.' Let me begin a Journal once more. The last I kept was in Switzerland, in record of a tour made in the Bernese Alps, which 1 made to send to my sister in 1S16, and I suppose that she has it still, for she wrote to me that she was pleased with it. Another, and longer, I kept in 1813-1814, which I gave to Thomas Moore in the same year. "This morning I gat me up late, as usual — weather bad — bad as England — worse. The snow of last week mehing to the sirocco of to-day, so that there were two d — d things at once. Could not even get to ride on horseback in the forest Stayed at home all the morning — looked at the fire — wondered when the post would come. Post came at the Ave Maria, instead of half-past one o'clock, as it ought. Gahgnani's Messengers, six in number — a letter from Faenza, but none from England. Very sulky in consequence, (for there ought to have been letters,) and ate in consequence a copious dinner; for when I am vexed, it makes me swallow quicker — but drank very little. "I was out of spirits — read the papers — thought what fame was, on reading, in a case of murder, that 'Mr. Wych, grocer, at Tunbridge, sold some bacon, flour, cheese, and, it is believed, some plums, to some gipsy woman accused. He had on his counter (I quote faith- fully) a booh) the Life of Pamela, which he was tearing for waste paper, &c. &c. In the cheese was found, &c. and a leaf of Pamela wrapped round tlie bacon.' What would Richardson, the vainest and luckiest of living authors (i. e. while alive) — he who, with Aaron Hill, used to prophesy and chuckle over the presumed fall of Fielding (the prose Homer of human nature) and of Pope (the most beautiful of poeis) — what would he have said could he have traced his pages from their place on the French prince's toilets (see Boswell's Juhnson) to the grocer's counter and the gipsy-murderess's bacon!!! " What would he have said i what can any body say, save what Solomon said long before us ? After all, it is but passing from one counter to another, from the book- scllt t's to the other tradesman's — grocer or pastry-cook. For my part, I have met with most poetry upon trunks ; so that I am apt to consider the trunk-maker as the sex- ton of authorship. " Wrote five letters in about half an hour, short and savage, to all my rascally correspondents. Carriage came. Heard the news of three murders at Faenza and Forli — a carabinier, a smuggler, and an attorney — all last night. The first two in a quarrel, the latter by preme- ditation.* " Three weeks ago — almost a month — the 7th it was— I picked up the Commandant, mortally wounded, out of the street ; he died in my house ; assassins unknown, but presumed political. His brethren wrote from Rome last night to thank me for having assisted him in his last moments. Poor fellow ! it was a pity ; he was a good soldier, but imprudent. It was eight in the evening when they killed turn. We heard the shot ; my servants and I ran out, and found him expiring, with five wounds, twe whereof mortal — by slugs they seemed. I examined him, but did not go to the dissection next morning. "Carriage at 8 or so — went to visit La Contessa G.— found her playing on the piano-forte — talked til] ten, when the Count, her father, and the no less Count, her brother, came in from the theatre. Play, they said, Alrieri's Filippo — well received. "Two days ago the King of Naples passed through Bologna on his way to congress. My servant Luigi brought the news. I had sent him to Bologna for a lamp. How will it end ? Time will show. "Came home at eleven, or rather before. If the road ;md wrather are conformable, mean to ride to-morrow. High time — almost a week at this work — snow, sirocco, one day — frost and snow the other — sad climate for Italy. But the two seasons, last and present, are extraordinary. Read a Life of Leonardo da Vinci by Rossi — ruminated — wrote this much, and will go to bed. "Januarys 1821. "Rose late — dull and drooping — the weather dripping and dense. Snow on the ground, and sirocco above in the sky, like yesterday. Roads up to the horse's belly so that riding (at least for pleasure) is not very feasible. Added a postcript to my letter to Murray. Read the conclusion, for the fiftieth time (I have read all W. Scott's novels at least fifty times) of the third series of ' Tales of my Landlord, 1 — grand work — Scotch Fielding, as well as 1 Sue Letter 465, tic. 248 EXTRACT© KfiOM A JOURNAL. great English |K>et — wonderful man! I long to get drunk with him. '■ I lined versus six o' the clock. Forgot that there was a plumpuddingj (I have added, lately, ruling to my 'family of vices, 1 ] and had dined before I knew it. Drank half a bottle of some sorts of spirits — probably spirits of wine i for, what they rail brandy, rum, &c. &c, here is nothing but spirits of wine, coloured accordingly. Did "<<,' r,it two apples, which were placed, by way of dessert. Fed the two cats, the hawk, and the tame (but not tamed) crow. Read Mitford's Historj of Greece— Xenophon's Retreat of the Ten Thousand, Dp to this present moment writing, 6 minutes before 8 o' the clock — French hours, not Italian. " Hear the carriage — order pistols and great coat, as usual — necessary articles. Weather cold — carriage opt n, ami inhabitants somewhat savage — rather treacherous and highly inflamed by politics, Fine fellows, I h - good materials for a nation. Out of chaos God made a world, and out of high passions comes a people. ''Clock strikes— going out to make love. Somewhat perilous, but not disagreeable. Memorandum — a new screen put up to-day. It is rather antique, but will do with a little repair. " Thaw continues — hopeful that riding may be practi- cable to-morrow. Sent the papers to All 1 — grand events coming. "11 o' the clock and nine minutes. Visited La Con- tessa G. Nata G. G. Found her beginning my letter of an wer to the thanks of Aleesio del Pinlo of Rome for ' his brother the late Commandant in his last mom. nts, as I had begged her to pen my reply for the purer Italian, I being an ultra-montane, little skilled in the set phrase of Tuscany. Cut short the letter — finish it another day. Talked of Italy, patriotism, Alfi-ri, Madame Albany, and other branches of learning. Also Sallust's Conspiracy of Catiline, and the war of Jugurtha. At 9 came in her brother, II Conte Pietro— at 10, her father, Conte Ruggiero. "Talked of various modes of warfare — of the Hun- garian and Highland modes of broadsword exercise, in both whereof I was unit a moderate ' master of fence.' Settled thai Uie It. will break out on the 7th or 8th of March, ui which appointment I should trust, had it not been settled that it was to have broken out in October, 1820. But those Bolognese shirked the, Romagnuoles. "'It is all one to Ranger.' One most not be parti- cular, but take rebellion when it lies in the way. Came home— read the ' Ten Thousand' again, and will go to bed. "Mem.— Ordered Fletcher (at four o'clock this after- noon) to copy out 7 or 8 apophthegms of Bacon, in which I have detected such blunders as a schoolboy might de- tect, rather than commit. Such are the sages! What must they be, when such as I can stumble on their mis- takes or ruistatements ? I will go to bed, for I find that I grow cynical. and cry, neither of which is now a very easy ruttter — at : a player to produce in me. B Thought of the state of women under ihe .< Greeks — convenient enough. Present suite, a remnant of the barbarism of the chivalry and feudal ages — artih- cial and unnatural. They ought to mind home — and hn well fed and clothed — but not mixed in society. Well educated, too, in religion — bul to read neither poetry n ir politics — nothing bul books of piety and cookery. Music — drawing — dancing — also a little gardening and p ing now and then. I have seen them mending the roads in Epirus with good success. Why not, as well as hay- makihg and milking J "< lame home, and read Mitfbrd again, and played wiih m i iii" — gave him his supper. Aladc another read- ing to the epigram, but the turn the same. To-night at the theatre, there being a prince on his ihrt ne m the last scene of the comedy, — the audience laughed, and asked him for a Co ititui n. This shows the state of lb lie mind here, as well &s thfr assasinations. Ft won't do. There must be a universal republic, — and there ought to be. "The crow is lame of a leg — wonder how it happened — some fool trod upon his toe, I suppose. The falcon pretty brisk — the cats large and noisy — the monkeys I have not looked to since the cold weather, as they Buffer by being brought up. Horses must be gay — get a ride as soon as weather servos. Deused muggy Still — an Italian winter is a sad thing, but all the oilier seasons are charm- " January 6, 1821. a Mist — thaw — slop — rain. No stirring out on horse- back. Kead Spenee's Anerd- .t.'S. |'.>p.- ;i \\w- [', 11, ,w — always thought him so. Corrected blunders in nine apo- phthegms of Bacon — all historical— and read MiHords Greece. Wrote en epigram. Turned to a pass i Guinguene— ditto, in Lord Holland's Lope de v*ega Wrote a note on Don Juan.* "At eight went out to visit Heard a little music — like music. Talked with Count Pietro G. of the Italian comedian Vestris, who is now at Home — have seen him often act in Venice — a good actor — very. Somewhat of a mannerist ; bul excellent in broad comedy, as well as in sentimental pathetic. He has made me frequently laugh "What Is the reason thai I have been, all mv lifetime, more or less etinuyt / and thai, if any thing, I am rather less SO now than 1 was al twenty, as tar as my r< l lion serves? I do not know how to answer this, bul pre- sume that it is constitutional — as well as the waking in low spirits, which I have invariably done for man-. Tetnperanee and exerci > . which 1 have practised at times, and for a long tun together vigoroustj and vio- lently, made 1 i i tic or no difference. Violent pa --ions did ; — when unrler their immediate Influence — it is odd, bul— 1 was in agitated, bul not in depressed spirits. K A dose of salts has the effect of a temporary inebria lion, like light champaign, upon me. Entwine and spirits make me sullen and savage to ferocity — silent, however, and retiring, and not quarrelsome, if not spoken to. Swim- ming also raises my spirits, — but in general they are low, and get daily lower. That is hopeless : for I do not think I am so much cnnuy£ as I was at nineteen. The proof is, that then I must game, or drink, or be in motion of some kind, or I was miserable. At present, I can mope in quietness; and like being alone better than any com- pany — except the lady's whom I serve. But I feel a something, which makes me think that, if I ever reach near to old age, like Swift, ( I shall die at lop' first. Only I do not dread idiotism or madness so mueh as he did. On the contrary, 1 think some quieter stages of both must be preferable to much of what men think the pos session of their senses. ' Doo Juan, note 9tlt to Canto V * January 7, 1821, Sunday. "Still rain — mist — snow— drizzle — and ail the incal culable combinations of a climate, where heat and cold struggle for mastery. Read Spence, and turned over Roscoe, to find a passage I havi not found. Read the 4th vol. of W". Scott 1 ! second series of * Tales of my Landlord. 1 Dined. Head the Lugano Gazette. Read — I forget what. At 8 went to conversazione. Found there the Countess Gellrude, Belli V. and her husband. and others. Pretty black-eyed woman thai — "T" se - He himself and lather are souio to the chase in the forest; but V. G. is to come to me lid an express to be sent off to him, P. G. it any thin;; occur?. Concerted operations. They are to seize— but no matter. . . , ., , ■ . a- "I advised them to attack in detail and in ditteren' parties, in different ptaca, (though at the same lime,) so as to divide the attention of the troops, who, though few, vet beino disciplined, would beat any body of people (not trainedfin a regular fight— unless dispersed in small parti, s, and distracted with different assaults. Offered to I, i Ihem assemble here, if they choose. It is a strongish post— narrow street, commanded from within — and tena hie walls. * * * "Dined. Tried on a new coat. Letter to Murray, with corrections of Bacon's Apophthegms and an epigram— the latter not for publication. At eight went to Teresa. Countess G. * Al nine and a half „ ..,11 Conte P. and Count P. G. Talked of a cer- tain proclamation lately issued. Count R.G. had been with * * (the * +,) to sound him about the arrests. He, * * is a trimmer, and deals, at present, his cards with bolh hands If he don't muid, they'll be full. * * pretends (I doubt him-tAet, do n't,— we shall see) that there is no such order, and seems staggered by the immense exertion, 32 i ,t the N capolitans, and the fierce spirit of the Liberals here. The truth is, ihat * * cares (or little but his place (which is a good one) and wishes to play pretty with both parties. He has changed his mind thirty tines these last llj-ee moons, to my° knowledge, for he corresponds with me. But he is not' a bloody fellow— only an avaricious one. ■It seems that, just at this moment (as Lydia Languish says) there will be no elopement after all. I wish that I had known as much last night— or, rather, this morning— 1 should have gone to bed two hours earlier. And yet I ought not to complain: fir, though it is a sirocco, and heavy rain, I have not yrmint (or these two days. '■Came I — read'Hisl iry of Greece— before dinner had read\\ alter Scott's Rob Roy. Wrote address (o the letter in answer to Alessio del Pinto, who has thanked me tor helping his brother (the late Commandant, murdered here last month) in his last moments. Have told him I only did a duty of humanity— as is true. The brother lives at Rome. "M mded the fire with some ' sgobole,' (a Romagnuolo word,) ami gave the falcon some water. Drank some Seli/er-water. Mem.— received to-day a print, or etching of the story of Ugolino,bv an I alian painter— different, of course, from Sir Joshua Reynolds's, and I think (as far as ecolleclion goes) no worse, for Reynolds is not good in history. Tore a button in my new coat. "I v, under what figure these Italians will make in a regular row. I sometimes think that, like the Irishman's gun, (somebody had sold hun a crooked one,) they will only do for ' shooting round a corner ;' at least this sort of shooting has been the late tenor of their exploits. And yet, there are materials in this people, and a noble energy, if well directed. But who is to direct diem ? No matter. Out of such times heroes spring. Difficulties are the hot- beds of high spirits, and Freedom the modier of the few virtues incident to human nature. "Tuesday, January 9, 1821. « Rose — the day fine Ordered the horse--, but Lega (my secretory, an Italianisni for steward or chief servant; coming to tell me iha' the painter had finished the work in fresco, for tV t ^ui he has been employed on lately, I went to see it oefore 1 set out. The painter has not copied badly die prmts from Titian, &c. consideruig all things. * * * * * * . " Dined. Read Johnson's ' Vanity of Human Wishes, all the examples and mode of giving them sublime, as well as the la t. r part, with the exception of an occasional couplet. I do not so much admire the opening. I remem- ber an observation of Sharpe's (the Conversationist, as he was called in London, and a very clever man,) that the first line of tins poem was superfluous, and that Pope (the verv best ofpoets / think) would have begun al once, only changing the punctuation — 1 Survey mankind from China lo Peru 1' The former line, 'Let observation,' &c. is certainly heavy and o«eless. But 't is a grand poem — and so true .'—true as the 10th of Juvenile himself. The lapse of ages changes jj| things— time — language — the earth — the bounds of the sea— the stars of the sky, and every tlung ' about, around, and underneath' man, except man himself, who has always been, and always will be, an unlucky rascal. The infinite variety of lives conducts but to death, and the infinity of wishes leads but to disappointment. All the discoveries which have vet been made have multiplied little but exist- ence. An extirpated disease is succeeded by some new pestilence; and a discovered world has brought little to the old one, except the p— first and freedom afterward— the latter a fine thine, particularly as they gave it to Eu- rope in exchange for slavery. But it is doubtful whether 'the Sovereigns' would nol think tlie>s( die best present ofthe two to their subjects. « At eioht went out— heard some news. They say Uio kin- of Naples has declared, by couriers from Florence, 250 EXTRACTS FROM A JOURNAL, 1821. to the Powers (as they call now those wretches with Troy, crowns) that his Constitution was compulsive, &c. &c. and that die Austrian barbarians are placed again on jm pav, and will inarch. Let them— 'they come like sacri- fices in their trim,' the hounds of hell!* Let it still be a hope to see their bones piled like those of the human ,! at Morat, in Switzerland, which I have seen. "Heard smile music. At nine Ihe usual visitors — news, tear, or rumours of war. Consulted with P. G. &c. &c. They mean to insurrect here, and are u> honour me with a call thereupon. I shall not fall back-; though I don'l think them in force or hearl sufficient to make much of it. But onward!— it is now the limi to ai I, and whal signifies self, if a single spark of that which would be worth) of the past can be bequeathed unquenchedly to the future .' li is 11 . i one man, nor a million, but the spirit of liberty, whii h must be spread. The waves which dash upon the shore are, one by one, broken, but yel the ocean conquers, never- theless. It overwhelms tlieArmada.it wears the reel,, and, if the Siyfunions are to be believed, u lias not only destroyed, but made a world. In lik.- manner, whatever the sacrifice of individuals, the great cause will gather strenoth, sweep down what is rugged, and fertilize (for sea-weed is manure) what is cultivable. And so, the mere selfish calculation ought never to be made on such occa- sions; and, at present, it shall not be computed by me was never a good arithmetician of chances, and commence now. I shall not T is false — we do care about ' the authenticity c«" Ihe tale of Troy.' [hnvestood upon that plain d an a month, in 1810; and, if any thm dimini i liv pleasure, il was that the blackguard Br; impu I its veracity. It IS true 1 read 'limner Tra- eetied,' (the first twelve 1 Its,) because Hobhouse and others bored me with their leaned localities, and 1 love qujzrii g. Bui I still venerated the grand origin truth o{ history (in ihe material fads) and of] wise, it would have given me no delight. Who will per- suade me, when 1 reclined upon araightj t b, thai il did not contain a hero?— its very magnitude proved Ihis. Mi n do not labour over Ihe ignoble and petty dead— end why should not Ihe dead be Hbiner'sdead .' The secret of Tom Campbell's defence t>{ inaccuracy in costume and tinn is, that his Gertrude, &c. has ii" more localit) in com- mon with Pennsylvania than with Pi nmanmaur. It is notoriously full ofgrossly false scenery, as all Americans declare, tl gh the) praise parts ofthe Poem. It is thus out, like a snake, 10 thing wined happens, even accidenlly, to stumble upon u. "January 10, 1821. « Day fine — rained only" in the morning. Looked over accounts. Read Campbell's Poets— marked errors of Tom (the author) lor correction.! Dined— went out— music— Tyrolese air, with variations. Sustained the cause ofthe original simple air against the variations of the Italian school * * * . * "Politics somewhat tempestuous, and cloudier daily. To-morrow being foreign post-day, probably something more will be known. "Came homi — read. Corrected Tom Campbell's slips ofthe pen. A :■ I work, though— style affected— but his defence of Pope is glorious. To be sure, it is Ins mm cause too,— but no matter, it is very good, and does him great credit. ■Midnight " I have been turning over different Lives of the Poens. I rarely read their works, miles an occasional Bight over the classical ones, Pdpe,Dryden, Johnson, Gray, and those who approach them nearest; (I leave the rant of ihe rest to the rant of Ihe day,) and — I had made several reflections, but 1 feel sleepy, and may as well go to bed. "January 11,1821. "Head the letters. Corrected the tragedy and ihe 'Hints lioin Horace.' Dined, and got into better Spirits. Went out — returned — finished letters, five in number. Read Poets, and an anecdote in Spence. "All 1 writes to me thai the Pope, and Duke of Tuscany, and King of Sardinia have also been called to Congress; hut the Pope will only deal then- by proxy. So the inti i- ests of millions are in the hands of about twenty coxcombs, at a place ci'led I.eiliach! "1 shunid almost regret that my own affairs wenl well, when tlunc of nations are in peril. If the interests of man- kind coilM I ssetitially liellercd, (particularly of these oppressed Italians,) I should not so much mind my own s-ina' peculiar.' God grant us all belter tunes, or more philosophy. "In rf-ading, I have just chanced upon an expression of Tom CwnpbeU'a ;— speaking of Collins, he says that ' no reader .»vcs any more about the clurracleristic manners of his E'« gues than about the authenticity of the tale "January 12, 1821. "The weather still so humid and impracticable, that London, in its most oppressive fbgs,weMasummer-bowei to tins mist and sirocco, which has now lasted, (hut with one day's interval,) checkered with snow or heavy ram only, since the 30th of December, 1820. It is so far lucky that I have a literary turn; but it is very tiresome not to tie able to stir out, in comfort, on any horse but Pegasus, for so many .lavs. The roads are eye,, w an I weather, by the long splashing, and the heavy soil, and the growth of lie- waiers. "Read the Poets— English, that is to SB) — out ..I Campbell's edition. There is a good deal of taffeta in some of Tom's prefatory phrases, hut his work is good as a whole. I like him best, though, in bis own poetry. "Murray writes that they wan; load tlietragedi 'I U b- rino Kaliero ; more fools they— il was written for thi I have protested against this piece of usurpation, (which, it seems, is legal for managers over any pruned work, against the author's will,) and I hope they will not attempt iu "Why don't they bring out some of the nine: aspirants for theatrical celebrity, now incumbering their shelves, instead oflugging me out of die library 7 I liavo written a tierce protest against any such attempt, but 1 till would hope that it will not be nece sary.and that they rill see, at once, that il is not intended for the stage. It is too regular— the time, twenty-four hours— the change of place not frequent— nothing meto-dramatic— no sur- pri.es, no starts, nor trap-doors, nor opportunities 'for tossing their heads and kicking their heels'— and no tote— the grand ingredient of a modern play. ■■ i have found the seal cut on Murray's letter. It ,s meant for Walter Scott— or Sir \\ alter— he is the first poet knighted suae sir Richard BUv kmore. But it does not do him justice. SeottV^erticularly » is a very intelligent countenance, and llns seal says nothing. "Scott is certainly the most wonderful writer oft! His novels are anew Uterature in themselves, and his poetry as good as an) —if not better (only on an erroneous system)— and only ceased to he so popular, because the vulgar learned were tired of hearing ' Aristidcs called the Jusf and Waller Scott the Best, and ostracised him. " I like him, too, fir his manliness of character, for the extreme pleasantness of his conversation, and hi nature towards myself, personally. May he prosper'— for he ,1,-erves it. 1 kia.w no reading to which I tall will, such alacrity as a work of \V. Scon's. 1 shall give, the seal, with his bust on it, to Madame la I taltessa Q. Ihis i rening, who will be curious to have tlie cthgies of a Cnild.- Hn.old, 3d Canto, linn. 63, mid notf 1*. t >si Jlem imtu 9 lO C»lili< 5. man so celebrated. « How strange are mv thoughts !— The reading of the song of Milton? ' Babrina fair ' has brought back upon me EXTRACTS FROM A JOURNAL, 1821. 251 —I know iv it how or why — the happiest, perhaps, days of my life (always excepting, here and there, a Harrow holy- day in the two latter summers of my stay there,) when living a". Cambridge with Edward Noel Long, afierwaid of the Guards, — who, after having seryed honourably in the expedition to Copenhagen, (of which two or three ndrels yet survive in plight and pay,) was drowned early in 1809, on Ins passage to Lisbon with his regimen) in the St. George transport, which was run foul otj in the night, by another transport. We were rival swimmers — find of riding — reading — and of conviviality. We had been at Harrow together; but — there, at least — his was a less boisterous spirit than mine. I was always cricketing — rebelling — fighting — rowing, (from rmv, not 4.»o*-rowing, a different practice,) and in all manner of in. in is; while he was more sedate and polished. At Cambrid ge. — both of Trinity — my spirit rather softened, or his roughened, for we became very great friends. The description of Sabnna's seat reminds me of our rival hats in diving. Though Cam's is not a very ' translucent wave.' it was fourteen feet deep, where we used to dive for, and pick up — having thrown them in on purpose — and even shillings. I remember, in particu- lar, there was the stump of a tree (at least ten or twelve i tep) in the bed of the river, in a spot where we bathed most commonly, round which I used to cling, and ' wonder how the devil I came there.' '■Our evenings we passed in music (he was musical, and played on more than one instrument, flute and violon- cello,) in which I was audience; and I think that our chief beverage was soda-water. In the day we rode, bathed, and lounged, reading occasionally. I reineml.iT our buying, with vast alacrity, Moore's new quarto, (in 1803,) and reading it together in the evenings. " We only passed the summer together ; — Long had gone into the Guards during the year I passed in Notts, away from college. Hvi friendship and a violent, though pure, love and passion — which held me at the same period — were the then romance of die most romantic period of my life. ****** u l remember that, in the springof 1809, H * * laughed at my being distressed at Long's death, and amused him- self with making epigrams upon his name, which was susceptible of a pun — Long, short, &c. But three years after lie had ample leisure to repent it, when our mutual friend, and his, II * *'s, particular friend, Charles Mat- thews, wa drowned also, and he, himself, was as much affected by a similar calamity. But /did not pay him be ■ in puns and epigrams, for I valued Matthews too much, myself, to do so ; and, even if I had not, I should have respected his griefs. "Lord's father wrote to me to write his sons epitaph. I promised, — but I had not the heart to complete it. He was such a good, amiable being as rarely remains long in this world; with talent and accomplishments, too, to make him the more regretted. Yet, although a cheerful companion, lie had strange melancholy thoughts some- times. I remember once that we were going to his s, I think, — I went to accompany him to the door merely, in some Upper or Lower Grosvenor or Brook street, [forget which, but it was in a street leading out of s. me square*— he told me that, the night before, he 'had i[i a pistol — not (mowing or examining whether it was loaded or no — and had snapped it at his head, leavino it to chance whether it might, or might not, be chan id The letter loo, which he wrote me, on leaving college to pin the Guards, was as melancholy in its tenor as it could well be on such an occasion. But he showed nothing of this in his deportment, bein? mild and gentle; — and yet widi much turn for the ludicrous in his disposi- tion. We were both much attached to Harrow, and sometimes made excursions there together from London, to revive our schoolboy recollections. "Midnight. 8 Read the Itahan translation by Guido Sorelli of the German Grillparzer — a devil of a name, to be sure, for posterity ; but they must learn to pronounce it. With all the allowance for a translation, and, above all, an Italian translalion (they are the very worst of translators, except from ihe Classics — Annibale Caro, for instance — and there the bastardy of their language helps them, as, by way of looking legitimate, they ape their father's tongue) — but with every allowance for such a disadvantage, the tragedy of Sappho is superb and sublime ! There is no denying it. The man lias done a great thing in writing that play. And who is he? I know him not ; but ages will. 'T is a high intellect. " I must premise, however, that I have read nothing of Adolph Milliner's, (the author of 'Guilt,') and much less of Goethe, and Schiller, and Wietand than I could wish. I only know them through the medium of English, French, and Italian translations. Of the real language I know absolutely nothing — except oalhs learned from postillions and officers in a squabble. I can swear in German po- tently, when I like — ' Sacramen' — ■Vcrflutcher — Huiids- fott' — and so forth ; but I have little of their less energetic conversation. "I like, however, their women, (I was once so despe- rately in love with a German woman, Constance.) and all that I have read, translated of their writings, and all that I have seen on the Rhine of their country and people — all, except the Austrians, whom I abhor, loathe, aivl — I cannot find words for my hate of them, and should be sorry to find deeds correspondent to my hate ; for I abhor cruelty more than I abhor the Austrians — except on an impulse, aiid then I am savage — but not deliberately so. " GriXparzer is grand — antique — not so simple as the ancients, but very simple for a modern — too Madame de Stael-utA now and then — but altogether a great and goodly writer. K January 13, 1821, Saturday. "Sketched the outline and Drams. Pers. of an intended tragedy of Sardanapalus, which I have for some lime meditated* Took the names from Diodorus Siculus, (I know the history of Sardanapalus, and have known it since I was twelve years old,) and read over a passage in the ninth vol. octavo of Miiford's Greece, where he ra'hcr vindicates the memory of this last of the Assy nans. " Dined — news come — the Powers mpan lo war with the peoples. The intelligence seems positive — let it be so — they will be beaten in the end. The king-times are fast finishing. Tin re will be blood shed like water, and rears like mist ; but the peoples will conquer in the end I shall not live to see it, but I foresee it. " I carrii d Teresa the Italian translation of Grillparzer's Sappho, which she promises to read. She quarrelled with me, because I said that love was not the loftiest theme for true tragedy ; and, having the advantage of her native language, and natural female eloquence, she overcame my fewer arguments. I believe she was right. I must put more love into ' Sardanapalus' than I intended. I speak, of course, if the times will allow me leisure. That if hardly be a peacemaker. "January 14, 1821. " Turned over Seneca's tragedies. Wrote the open- ing lines of the intended tragedy of Sardanapalus. Rode out some miles info the forest. Misty and rainy. Re- turned — dinpd — wrote some more of mv tragedy. " Read Diodorus Siculus — turned over Seneca, and some other books. Wrote some more of the tragedy. Took a glass of croj. Afler having ridden hard in rainy weather, and scribbled, and scribbled again, the spirits (at leastmine) need a little exhilaration, and I do n't like laudanum now as I used to do. So I have mixed a glass of iirong waters and single waters which I shall now 252 EXTRACTS FROM A JOURNAL, 1821. proceed to empty. Therefore and thereunto I conclude this day's diary. "Tin- effeel "f nil wines and spirits upon rue is, how ever, strange. It »«//«, hut n makes me gtoomy— gloomi at the very moment of their effect, and not gay hardly ever. But it composes for a ttm. , „l v . "January 15, 1S21. "Weather tine. Received visit. Rode out into the forest— fired pistols. Returned homi — dined— dipped tnio a volume of Milfor.l'sl m ■<■< ■■■ — wrote pari of a scene of ' Sardanapalus.' Went out— heard some m ■— heard some politics. More ministers from the other Italian powi re gone to Congress. War seems certain— •n dial case, it will be a savage one. Talked o mis important matters with one of the initiated. At ten and half returned home. "1 have just thought of something odd. In the y 1814, Moore (' (he poet,' pa aectll and he deserves it) and I were going together, in the same carriage, to dine with Karl Grey, the ( lapo Politico of the remaining Whigs. Murray, the magnificent, (the illustrious pub- lisher of that name,) hail just sent me a Java gazette I know not why or wherefore. Pulling il out, l>\ waj of curiosity, we found it to contain a dispute (the said Java gazette) on Moore's merits and mine. I think, if I had been there, that I could have saved them the trouble of disputing on the subject. But, there is feme fur you at six-and-twenty ! Alexander had conquered India 'at the same age ; but I doubt if he was disputed about, or his conquests compared witli those of Indian Baci hus,al Java. "li was great fame to be named with Moore ; greater to be compared with him; greatest — pleasure, at least to be tilth him ; and, surely, an odd coincidence, that we should be dining together while they were quarre about os In Aoinl the i i|miiiim iial line. " Well, the same evening 1 met Lawrence, the painter and heard one of Lord Guv's daughters (a tine, tall spirit-looking girl, with much of the patrician thomugk- bred l«uk of her father, which I dote upon) play on the harp, so modestly and ingenuously, that she looked musk. Well, I would raih.-r haie had my talk with Lawrenct (who talked delightfully) and heard the girl, than have had all the fame of Moore and mo put together. ■ The only pleasure of fame is that it paves the wav to pleasure; and the more intellectual our pleasure, "the better for the pleasure and for us too. It was,however agreeable to have heard our fame beforo dinner, and a' girl's harp after. "January 16,1821. ■ Read— rode— fired pistols— relumed — dined— wrote —visited—heard music— talked nonsense— and went home. etling " Wrote part of a Tragedy— advance in Act 1st with 'all deliberate speed.' Bought a blanket. The weather is still muggy as a London May— mist, mizzle, the air replete with Scotticisms, which, though fine in the descrip tions of Ossian, are somewhat tiresome, in real, prosaic perspective. Politics still mysterious. 'January 17. 1821. "Rode i' the forest— fired pistols — d I. Arrived a packet of hooks from England and Lombardy— English, Italian, French, and Lain,. Read till eight— wenl out. "January 18, 1821. "To-day, the post arriving late, did not ride. Read letters — only two gazettes, instead of twelve now due. Mad. Lega write to that negligent Galignani, and added a posiseript. Dined. "At eight proposed to go out. I.ega came in with a letter about a bill unpaid at Venice, which I iliouj.i paid months ago. I Hew into a paroxysm of rage, which almost made me faint. I have not been well evei ince. di erveit for being such a fool — hut il tea provoking— a set of scoundrels! It is, however, but Bve-and- iventj pounds. 'January 19, 1821. "Rode. 'Wiuter's wind somewhat more unkind than ingratitude itself, though Shakespeare says oil,, rw least, I am so much more accustomed to meet wnb ingratitude than the north wind, that I thought the latter rper of the two. I had met with both in the course of the twenty-tour hours, so could judge. "Though! of a plan of education for mv daughter Allegra.who.. light to begin soon with her studies. Wrote a letter — afterward a postscript. Rather in low spirits — certainly hippish — liver touched — will take a dose of sails. I have been reading the Life, by himself and daugh- ter, of Mr. R. L. Edgewonh, the father oflfa Mi ■ Edgeworth. It is altogether a great name. In 1813, 1 recoiled lo have met diem in the fashionable world of London (of which 1 dlen formed an Hem, a li anion, the segment of a circle, die unit of a million, the nothing of something) in the assemblies of the hour, and at a break- fast of Sir Humphry and I.adv Daw's, to which I was invited for the n le. [hadbeenthi lion of 1812* Mm ill and Mariano- de Steel, with 'the Cossack,' low an Is the end of lrj 13, were die exhibitions of the suc- edblg year. "I il ght Edgeworth a fine old fellow, of a clareiv, elderly, red complexion, but active, brisk, and endless. He was seventy, but did not look Hftv — no, nor forry-eighl even. I bad seen poor Filzpatnek not very long before man of pleasure, wn, oliwjiicnce, all (lungs. He tot- tered — but still talked like a gentleman, though feebly. Edgeworth bounced about, and talked loud and lone ; but he seemed neither weakly nor decrepit, and hardly old. "He began by telling 'that he had given Dr. Parr a dressing] who had taken him lor an Irish bog-trotter,' &c. &e. Now I. who know Dr. Parr, ami who know (not by experience — for I never should have presumed so far as to contend with him — but by hearing him with others, and .' ithers) that il is not so easy a matter to ' dress him, 1 thought Mr. Edgeworth an assertor of what was not true. He could not have stood before Parr an instant. For the rest, he seemed intelligent, vehement, vrraciouB and full of life. He bids fair for a hundred vears. "He was not much admired in London, and I remem- ber a'ryghlc inline' and conceited jest which was rife among the gallants of the day, — viz. a paper had been presented fir die reartl of Mrs. Siddons to tile stage, (sbo having lately taken leave, totlte loss of aj'es, — for nothing ever was, or can be, like her,) to which alt men had been called lo subscribe. Whereupon, Thomas Moore, of profane and poetical memory, did propose thai a similar paper should be suoscribed and arcwnscribed 'for die recall of Mr. Edgeworth lo Ireland.'* " The fact was — every body cared more about her. She was a nice little unassuming - J. anin. DesnsMookms bodie,' as we Scotch say — and, if nol handsome, eerlainly not ill-loi.l in 11 ver anon was as quiet as her- self. One would iwvrr have guessed she could write tier mime; whenas hex lather talked, not as if he could write nothing else, hut as if nothing else was worth writing. ■ \ for Mrs. Edgeworth, I forget— xcepl that I think she was the youngest of the party. Altogether] they were an excellent cage of the kind ; and succeeded for two months, till the landing of Madame de Stacl. " To turn from them to their works, I admire them ; but they exi ite no feeling, and they leave no love — except for some Irish steward or postillion. However, the im- pression of intellect and prudence is profound — and may be useful. " January' 20, 1821. " Rode — fired pistols. Read from Grimm's Corre- spondence. Dined — went out — heard music — returned — i\role a letter to the Lord Chamberlain to rei|tiesl him to prevent the theatres from representing the Doge, which In lliO. I rather think he wnt misinformed ; — whoever merit there may In: in (he)eat, 1 ha, e uot, a» far a) 1 tau recoiled, the eh^liUsi diuai ink.— Moore. EXTRACTS FROM A JOURNAL, 1821. 25» the Italian papers say tha' they arc going to act. This i~ preti . work — what! without asking my consent, and eveu in opposition to it ! "January 21, 1821. B Fine, clear, frosfv dav — that is to say, an I aliaa frosr, for their win . leyond snow ; for which rea- iwtoska'e (or skait) — a I 1 ' English accomplishment. Rode out, as usual, and fired pistols. G d '' iting— bro four common, and rather sma'l, bottles, in four shots, al fourteen paces, with a com- mon pair of pistols and indifferent powder. Almost a* good wafcrin* or shooting — considering tlie difference of powder 'and pistols— as when, in 1809,1810,1811,1813, IS] t, 1 s 1 4. it was my luck t<> split walking-sticks, wafers, haif-crowns, shillings] ani even (lit- eye of a walking-stick, at twelve paces, with a single bullet — and all by eye and ion; for mv hand is not steady, and apt to change with the verv weather. To the prowess which 1 here no?c, Joe Man ton and others can bear testimony ; — for the former taught, and the latter have seen me do, these fea 3. B Dined — visited — came home — read. Remarked on j an i tecdote in Grimm's Correspondence, which Rays that ' R'-'nard el la pin part des poetes comiqnes etaient sens hi.^-.ix ef melanc j'.iques ; et que M. de Voltaire, qui est tres gat, n'a jamais fait que des tragedies — et que lacome- die ^aie est le seui genre ou il n'ait point reussi. C'es'. que cehri qui rit et celui qui fait rire sont deux homines fort diderens.' — Vol. vi. " Ar this moment I feel as bilious as the best comic writer of them all, (even as Regnard himself, the next to Moliere, who has written some of the best comedies in any language, am] who is supposed to have committed suicide,) and am not in spirits to condnue ray proposed tragedy of Sardanapalus, which I have, for some days, cea=ed to compose. " To-morrow is mv birthdav — that is to saw at twelve o 1 the clock, midnight, i. e. in twelve minutes, I shall have completed thirty and three years of age !! ! — and I goto my bed with a heaviness uf heart at having lived so long, and to so little purpose. B It is three minutes past twelve. — (, T is the middle of night by the castle clock,' ani I am now thirty-three \ 1 F.heu, fugftCM, Puiiliume, P>s limine, Labntitur a ii ii i ;' — but T do n't regret them so much fur what I have done, as for what I might have done. " Through litVs roml.todim tnddirtT, I have draeK'd to ihree-and-lhiny. What fcjTe lh«e year* left 10 me? Nutliiii"— -except thirty-three. 1 ■ rv 28, 1821.* 1891. HERE LIES, INTERRED IN THE ETERNITY OF THE PAST, PROM WHENCE THBRB IS NO RESURRECTION FOR THE DATS — WHATEVER THERE MAY B" FOR THE Dt'ST — THE THIRTY-THIRD YEAR OP AN ILL-SPENT LIFE, WHICH, AFTER A LINGERING DISEASE OF MANY MONTHS, SUNK INTO A LETHARGY, AND EXPIRED, VANUABY32D, 1921, A. D. LEAVING A SL'CCESSOR INCONSOLABLE FOR THE VfiHV LOSS WHICH OCCASIONED ITS EXISTENCE. u Fine dav. Read- 1 .i:Miary 23, 1821. -'n 1 I pistols, and returned Dined — read. Went out a* eight — made the usual visit. Heard of n (thins bin war, — * the cry is still, They come. 1 The Car 1 , seem to have no plan — nothing fixed among hemsclvjes, how, when, or what to do. In thai case, they will make nothing of this project, so often postponed, and never put in action. "Came home, and gave some necessary orders, in rase of circumstances requiring a change of [dace, [shall act arcording to what mav seem proper, when I hear decidedly what the Barbarians mean to do. At present, they are building a bridge of boats over the Po, which looks very warlike. A few davs will probablv show. I think of retiring towards Ancona, nearer the northern frontier; that is to say, d" Teresa and her father are obliged to retire, which is most likely, as all the family are Libera!-;. If not,] shall sav. But my movements will depend upon the lady's wishes, f jr mvselij il is much the same. "I am somewhat puzzled what to do with my little . an i mv effects, which are of some quantity and value, — ajid neither of them do in the seat of war where I think of going; Bui there is an elderly tad* who will take cha r ge of her, and T. says tha* the Marchese C. will undertake to hold the chattels in safe keeping. Half the city are getting their atfairs in marching trim. A pretty Carnival! The blackguards might as well have waited 'il! Lent. "January 24, 1821. "Returned — met some masques in the Corso — ' Vive la bagatelle !*— -the Germans are on the Po, the Barbari- ans at the gate, and their ina-ters in council at Leybach, (or whatever the eructation of the sound may syllable into a human pronunciation,) and lo ! they dame and sing, and make merry, 'for to-morrow thev mav die.' Who can say that the Arl xju as are not right? Like rhe Lady Baussiere, and my old friend Barton — I 'rode on. 1 "Dined — (damn this p<-n!) — beef tough — there is no beef in Italy worth a curse; unless a man could eat an old os with the hide on, singed in the sun. " The pr ncipal persons in the events which may occur in a few davs, are gone out on a shooting party. If it were like a ' hxeldand hunting, 1 a pretext of the cha^e for a grand reunion of counsellors aud chief;, it would be all very well. But it is I or less than a real snivelling, popping, small-sho', wa?er-hen waste of powder ammunition, and sho T , f»r their own special amusement : — a rare set of fellows for 'a man to risk his neck with, as 'Marbhad Wells' says in the B'ack Dwarf. " If thev gather, — ' whilk is to be doubted," — they will not muster a thousand men. The reason of this is, tha*. the populace are not interested, — only the higher ami middle orders. I wish 'hat ihe peasantry were: they art a fine savage ra^e o( tw»-legged leopards. But the Bolognese won't — 'he Romagnuole, can't without them. Or, if they try — what then ? They will try, and man can do no more — and. if he would but try his utmost, much might be done. The Dutch, for instance, against tho Spaniards — Oieit, the tyrants of Europe — since, the slaves — and. lately, the freedmen. v The year 1820 was not a fortunate one for the indi- vidual me, whatever it mav be for the na.ions, I lost a lawsuit, af er two decisions in mv favour. The project v{ lending money on an Irish mortgage was finally rejected bv my wife's trustee after a year's hope and trouble. The Rochdale lawsuit had endured fifteen years, and always prospered till I married ; since winch, every thing has none wrong — with me, at least. " In the same year, 1820, the Countess T. G. nata G* Gh in despite of a!) I said and did to prevent it, would separate from her husband, II Cavalier Commendatore Gh &c. &c. &c. and all on the account of L P. P. clerk of this parish.' The other little petty vexations of the year — overturns in carriages — the murder of people before ones door, and dying in one's beds — the cramp in swim- 254 EXTRACTS FROM A JOURNAL, 182\. mm;; cohcs — indigestions and bilious attacks, &c. &e 1 M-tny small article* make up* sum, And bey ho fur Caleb Uviotcm, oh 1' "January 25, 1821. "Received a letter from Lord Sidney I >sb i m cretary of the Seven Islands— a fine fellow— c ■ dished in l n and five yearn ago, and came abroad to h and to renew. He wrote from Ancona, in bis way back to Corfu, on some matters it!" our own. !!■■ i> son of tiit-- late Duke of Leeds by a second marriage, II. wants me to go to Corfu. Why not? — perhaps I may. nexi spring. "Answered Murray^ letter — read — lounged. Sera - ed this additional page of life's log-book. I tae da no is over, of .1 and of me ; — but ' which is best, life or death, the gods only know,' as Socrates said to bis judges, on the breaking up of the tribunal. Two thousand years since thai sage's declaration of ignorance have not enlightened us more upon this important | it; for, Lispensau'on, no one can knon whether he is mtre. of salvation — even tl" - mosl i i — since a single slip of faith may throw him on bis ba< l like a skater, while gliding smoothly to his Now, therefore] whatever the ceraintyoffaith in the facts may be, Uie certainty of the individual as to his happiness or misery is no greater lltan it was under Jupiter. "It has been said that the immortality of the soul is a grand peut&tre' — but still it is a grand 1 one. Everj b dj clings to it — the stupidest, and dullest, and wickedest of human bipeds is still persuaded thai he is immortal. "January 26, 1821. •Finedav — a few mares 1 tails portending change, bui clear, upon the whole. Rode — fired pistol — good Bhooting. Coming back, met an old man. Charity — purchased a shilling's worth of salvation. If that was to be bought, I have given more to m ure in this life — sometimes for vice, but, if not more wtderoWy, for virtue — than I now possi I never in my life gave a mistress so much as I have some- times given a poor man in honest distress ; — but, no mat- ter. The scoundrels who have all along persecuted me* (with the help of -■ * who lias crowned their rlK.rts) wili triumph ; — and, when justice is done torn.-, it will be when this hand that writes is as cold as the hearts winch have slung me. u Returning, on the bridge near the mill, met an old woman. I asked her age — she said, l 'J'r, erocU I asked my groom (though myself a decenl I al an) what the devil her three crosses meant He said, ninety yeai ,and tho ahehad five years more to boot!! [repeated hesam< three times, not to mi take— ninety-five years!!! — and she was yet rather active — heard my question, for she answered it — saw me, for she advanced towards me ; and did not appear at all \ s..f ening the ititaUs, and exhibiting the despair which must have led to those very vicious pleasures. For none but a powerful and " 13 nun I overthrown would have had recourse 10 such solitary horrors, — being also, at the same time, o/t/, and the master of the world. " ^M'-mirrunda. B \\ hat is poetry?— The feeling of a Former world and Future. " Thai 8 "Why, at the very height of desire and human plea- sure, — worldly, so 1 1 - amorous, ambitious, or even avari- cious, — does there mingle a certain sense ol doubt and sorrow — a rear of whal is to come — a doubt of what is — a retrospect to the | i- r . leading to a prognosticate d of the future. (The best of the Future Is the Past.) Why is this? or these?— I know not, that on a pinnacle we arc most susceptible of gid and that we never fear falling excepl from a precipice— the higher, the more awful, and the more sublime; and, then fore, I am not sure that fear is not a pleasurable sen- sation : at least, Hope is ; and u hot Hopt is then 1 a deep leaven of Fear / and whal s< n ation fulasHope? and, ifitwerenoi for Hope, when the Future be? — in bell. 1 f us know; and as for the Past, what predominates in memorj '■ Ho Ergo, in all human affairs, it is Hope — Hope — rlopi Callow i; »h I never counted them, to any gh n 01 ■ 1 possession. From whatever place we com- mence, we know where il all must end. And yet, what good is there in knowing it ? li ctbes fftl make in Q or wiser. During the greatesl horrors of the greatest pla m ■ (Athens and Florence, fori sample — see Thucy- : I -Maehiav-Ili.) men were more cruel and profli- gate than ever. It is all a mystery. I feel most things but I know nothing, except — — — •Child* IWold, Canto IV. Stama 131, and Note to the Two] " TKit marked, with iropalkui .trokei of the pea, Ijr biimelf fa it* EXTRACTS FROM A JOURNAL, 1821. 255 • Thou _ / wi the tragedy of Cain : — Wen Death mi evil ' cfiioel Fool! livens i live — as liiy fattier (ires, And thy ton's ions shall livt Cor evermore. " Past midnight. One o' the clock. " I have been reading W. F. Schlegel (brother to the other of the nam') till now, and I can make out nothing. He evidently shows a great power of words, but there is nothing to be taken hold of. He is like Hazlitl, in Eng- lish, who talks jntajiUs — a red and white corruption rising up, (in little imitation of mountains upon maps,) but con- taining nu.hing, and discharging nothing, except their own humours. '•I dislike him the worse, (lhat is, Schlegel,) because lie always seems upon the verge of meaning ; and, lo. he goes down like sunset, or melts iike a rainbow, leaving a rather rich confusion, — to which, however, the above com- parisons do too much -honour. "Continuing to read Mr. F. Schlegetl. He is not such a fo il as I took him tor, that is to say, when he speaks of the X irto. But still he speaks of things aUoverOie world with a kind of authority that a philosopher would disdain, and a man of common sense, feeling, and knowledge of his own ignorance, would be ashamed of. The man is evidently wanting to make an impression, like his brother, —or like George in the Vicar of Wakefield, who found out that all tiie good things had been said already on the right side, and therefore 'dressed up some paradoxes' upon the wrong side — ingenious, but false, as lie himself says — to which 'the learned world said nothing, nothing at all, sir.' The ' learned world,' however, has said some- thing to the brothers Schlegel. "It is high time to think of something else. What they say of the antiquities of the North is best. "January 29, 1821. " Yesterday the woman of ninety-five years of age was with me. She said her eldest son (if now alive) would have been seventy. She is thin — short, but active — nears, and sees, and talks incessantly. Several teeth -eft — all in the lower jaw, and single front teeth. She is very deeply wrinkled, and has a sort of scattered gray heard over her chin, at least as long as my mustachios. Her head, in fact, resembles the drawing in crayons of Pope the poet's mother, which is in some editions of his works. " I forgot to ask her if she remembered Albcroni, (legate hen-,) but will ask her next nine. Gave her a louis — ordered her a new suit of clothes, and put her upon a weekly pension. Till now, she had worked at gathering wood run! jiiiir-nuis in tin- forest, — pretty work at ninetv- five years old ! She had a dozen children, of whom some are alive. Her name is Maria Monfanari. " All a company of the sect (a kind of Liberal Club) called the ' American!' in the forest, all armed, and sing- ing, with all their might, in Romagnuole — l Son tutu Boidat' per la liheria,' ('we are all soldiers for liberty. 1 ) They cheered me as I passed — I returned their salute, and rode on. This may show the spirit of Italy at pre- sent. ■ My to-day's journal consists of what L omitted yes- To-day was much as usual. Have rather a better opinion of the writings <>f the Schlegels than I had f .ur-anil-twenty hours ago; and will amend it still farther, if fusible. B They say that the Piedmonlese have at length risen —$a ira ! "Read Schlegel. Of Danfe he says that ( at no time has the greatest and most national of all Italian poets ever been much the favourite of his countrymen.' T is There have been more editors and commentators (and imitators, ultimately) of Dante than of all their poets put together. Not a favourite ! Why, they talk Dante — write Dante — and think and dream Dante at this moment ("1821) to an excess, which would be ridiculous, but that ■ rves it. "In the same style this German talks of gondolas on the Arao — :l precious fellow to dare to speak of Italy ! B He says also that Dante's chief defect js a want, in a word, of gentle feelings. Of gentle feelings! — and Fran- cesca of Rimini — and the father's feelings in Ugolino — and Beatrice — and ' La Pia !' Why, there is a gentleness in Dante beyond a!! gentleness, when he is tender. It is true that, treating of the Christian Hades, or Hell, there is not much scope or site for gentleness — but who hut Dante could have introduced any ' gentleness' at all into HeUf Is there any in Milton's? No — and Dante's Heaven is all love, and glory, and majesty. " I o'clock. " I have found out, however, where the German is right — it is about the Vicar of Wakefield. 'Of all romances in miniature, (and, perhaps, this is the best shape in which romance can appear,) the Vicar of Wakefield is, I think, the most exquisite.' He thinks ! — he might be sure. But it is very well for a Schlegel. I feel sleepy, and may as U get me to bed. To-morrow there will be fine wea- ther. ' Truit oo, and think to-morrow will repay.' B January SO, 1821. " The Count P. G. this evening (by commission from the C 1 .) transmitted to me the new words for the n«xt six months. * * * and * * *. The new sacred word is * * * — the reply * * * — the rejoinder * * *. The former word (now changed) was * * * — tfiere is also + * * — * * * j Things seem fast coming to a crisis — cu ira .' " We talked over various matters of moment and move- ment. These I omit ; — if they come to any thing, they will speak for themselves. After these, we spoke of Kosciusko. Count R. G. told me that he has seen the Polish officers in the Italian war burst into tears on hear- ing his name. Something must be up in Piedmont — all the letters and papers are stopped. Nobody knows any thing, and the Germans are concentrating near Mantua. Of' the decision of Laybach, nothing is known. This state vf things cannot last long. The ferment in men's minds at present cannot be conceived without seeing it. "January 31, 1821. " For several days I have not written any tiling except a few answers to letters. In momeniary expectation of an explosion of some kind, it is not easy to settle down to the desk fur the higher kinds of composition. I could do it, to be sure, for, last summer, I wrote my drama in the ery bustle of Madame la Contcsse G.'s divorce, and all its process of accompaniments. At the same time, I also had the news of the loss of an important lawsuit in England. But these were only private and personal business ; the present is of a different nature. I suppose it is this, but have some suspicion that it mav be laziness, which prevents me from writing ; espe- iallv as Rochefoucault says that ' laziness ofien masters them all' — speaking of the passions. If this were true, it could hardly be said that 'idleness is the root of all evil, 1 since this is supposed to spring from the passions only ; ergo, that which masters all the passions (laziness, to wit) would in so much be a good. Who knows ? "Midnight. "I have been reading Grimm's Correspondence. He repeats frequently, in speaking of a poet, or of a man of genius in any department, even in music, (Gretry, for in- stance,) that he must have ' une ame qui se tourmente t In l he original MS. Li.tit w atchwurj* arc blotted over lo as lo It .illegible. 256 EXTRACTS FROM A JOURNAL, 185.. un esprit violent.' How far this may be true, I know not ; but if it were, I should be u poel [ pet eccellenza;' for I have always bad ( une Bine, 1 which not only tor- mented itself but ever} bod} < ' e in contact with it; and mi 'esprit violent, 1 winch has almost left me without any 1 esprit' at all. As to defining what a poet should \"\ it is not worth while, for what are they worth I what have they done? "Grimm, however, is an excellent critic and literary historian. EQs ents forms the annals of the literary part of that age of Frame, with much of her politics, and still more of her 'way of !il»-.' He is a. valuable, and far more entertaining that Muratori or Tiraboschi — I had almost said, than Guingenl — bul tht re w.' should pause. However *t is a great man in its line. "Monsieur fc>t. Lambert has * El lorsqn'h «.•* rrenrdu la Inmiftre est ravie, II u'n plus, t-n mourant, ft ptnfra que la vie/ This is, won) tnr word, Thomson's ' And dying, nil we cui mien ii brattii,' without, the smallest acknowledgment from the Lorraine of a poet M. St. Lambert is dead as a man, and (for any thing I know to the contrary) damned as a poet, by this time. However, his Seasons have good things, and, it may he, some of his own. "Februarys, 1821. "I have been considering what ca»i be the reason why I always wake at a certain hour in the morning, and ,i .■ i . in very bad spirits— I may say, in actual despair and despondency, in all respects — even of that which : in.- over night. In abnui an hour or two, this goes offj and 1 compose either to sleep again, or at least, to quiet. In England, five years ago, I had the same kind of hypochondria, but accompanied with bo violent s durst that 1 have drank as many as fifteen bottles ofsoda- water in one night, after going to bed, and been still thirsty -—calculating] however,some lost from the bursting out an I eff rvescence and overflowing of the soda-water, in drawing the corks, «>r striking off the reeks of the bottles from mere thirsy impatience. At present, I have nut the thirst ; but the depression of spirits is no less violent "I read in F.dgew orl'i's Memoirs of something similar (except that bis thirst expended itself on sniull beer) in the case of Sir F. B. Delaval; — hut then he was, at least, twenty years older. What is it? — liver? In England, T\e Man (the apothecary) cured me of the thirst in three days, and it had lasted as many years. I suppose that il is all hypochondria. "What I feel most growing upon me are lozinesss ami a disrelish more powerful than indifference. If I rouse, it is info fury. I presume that 1 shall end (if not earlier by accident, or some smh termination) like Swift — 'dying BJ top.' I « fees I do not contemplate this with so much horror as he anpari ntly did for some years before it ha[»- pened. But swift had hardly begun Ufe ai the very period (thirty-three'* ) when I foe] quite an old sort of feeL "Oh! there is an organ playing in the street — a wait?., too! I must leave off to listen. Tiny are playing a waltz, which I have heard ten thousand tunes at the halls in London, between 1812 and lSlj. Music is a strange tiling. "February 5, 1821. * At last, 'the kiln's in a low.' The Germans are ord»red to march, and Italy is, for the ten thousandth lime, to become a field of battle. Last night the news came. " This afternoon, Count P. G. came tome to consul! upon divers matters. Wo rode out together. They Nave sent ofi" to the C. for orders. To-morrow tin' decision ought to arrive, and then something will be done. Returned — (lined — read — went on' — talked over matters. Made n purchase, of some amis for the new enrolled Americani, ' S>« Journtl, January 6, iKSl. who are all on tiptoe to march. Gave orders (or somo Aorncssand pox manteaus i" cessary for the boo i i some of Bowles^ dispute about Pope, with ai. the replies and rejoinders. Perceive that my name lias been tugged into the controversy, but have not time to state what 1 know of the subject On some 'piping day of pcaoe' it is probable that I may resume it. "February 9, 1821. 'Before dinner wrote a tittle; also, before I rode out, Count P. G. called upon me, to lei me know the result of the meeting of the C. at F, and at B. * * returned tale last night. Every thing was combined under the idea thai the Barbarians would pass the Po on the 16th mst. Enstead of this, from some previous information or other* n I-'-. they tuu t hasten" d their inarch and actually pniroorl two days ago ; so that all that can be done at present m l\omai;na is, to stand on the alen and wail for the advance of the Neapolitans. Every thing was ready, and the Neapolitans had sent on their own insunictions and inteo* tions, all calculated for the tenth and e2evenXA, on which days a general rising was to take place, under the suppo- ■iii. ■!! ili.'il lln' li.ii i ;n i.u-.'. .- '■■■ '■ ■ ■ the 16th. " As it is, they have but fifty or sixty thousand troops, a a number with which they might as well attempt to cun- quer the world as secure ImK in itspresenl state. The artillery marches lust, and alone, and there is an idea ol an attempt to cut part of them off. All this "ill much depend upon the first steps of the Neapolitans. JSens, the public spirit is excellent, providi d ii \« kept up. This will be seen by the event. "It is probable that Italy will bedeUverJpd from the Bar- barians if the Neapolitans will bul stand firm, and are nniled among themselves. Jin, th"\ appear so. "February 10, 1821 Day passed as usual — nothing new. Barbarians still in march — not well equipped, and, of course, not well received on their route. There is some talk of a commo- tion at Paris. '• Rode out between four and six — finished my letter to Murray on Bowles's pamphlets— add) d postscript. Passed the evening as usual — out ull eleven — and subsequently at home. ^February 11,1821. " Wrote — had a copy taken of an extract from Pet ran I fa I, .tiers, with reference to the conspiracy of the Doge, M. Paliero, containing the poet's opinion of the matter. Heard a heavy firing of cannon towards Comacchio — the Barba- rians rejoicing for their principal pig's birthday, which is to-morrow — or Sain! da\ — 1 toryel which. Received a ticket for the first ball to-morrow. Shall not go to the first, but mtend going to me second, as also to the \ "February 13,1821. "To-day read a little in Louis Bs Hollande, hut have written nothing since the completion of the letter on the Pope c on'ro-.i r-v. Polities are (jtule misty for t 1 . sent. The Barbarians still upon their march. It is not easy to divine what the [talians will now do. "Was elected vesterday* Socio' of the Carnival ball society. This is the fifth carnival that I have passed. In the four former, I racketed a good deal. In the pre- sent, I have been as sober as Lady Grace herself. "February 14, 1841. "Much as usual. Wrote, before riding out, pan of a scene of 'Sardanapalus.' The first act nearly finished. The rest of the day and evening as before — partly w ithoul , in conversazione — partly at ho "Heard the particulars of the late fray atRussi, a town not far from tins. It is exactly the fact of Romeo and Giutietta — not Romeo, as the Barbarian writes it. Two families of Contadini (peasants) are at feud. At a hall, the younger part of the families forget their quarrels, anJ EXTRACTS FROM A JOURNAL, 1S2I. 257 dance together. An old man of one of them enters, and reproves the young men for dancing with the females of the opposite family. The male relatives of the latter resent this. Both parties rush home, and arm themselves. They meet directly, by moonlight, in the public way, and fight it out. Three are killed on Lhe spot, and six wounded, most of them dangerously, — pretty well for two families, methinks — and all/act, of the last week. Another assas- sination has taken place at Cesenna, — in all about forty in Romagna within these 'ast three months. These people retain much of die middle ages. "February 15. 1821. "Last night finished the first act of Surdanapalus. To- night, or to-morrow, I ought to answer letiers. "February 16, 1821. "Last night H Confe P. G. sent a man with a bag full of bayonets, some muskets, and some hundreds of car- tridges to my house, wi hout apprizing me, though I had seen him not half an hour before. About ten davs agu, when there was u, be a rising here, tin* Liberals and my bn.-thren C'. asked me to purchase some arms for a cer- tain fen of our ragamuffins. I did so immediately, and ordered ammunition, &c. and they were armed accord- ingly. Well — the rising is prevented by the Barbarians marching a >veek sooner than appoin'cd; and an order is issued, and in force, by the Government, ' that all persons having arms concealed, &c. &a shall be liable to,' &c. &c. — and what do my friends, the patriots, do two days afterward? Why, they throw back U|w>n my hands, and into my house, these very arms (without a word of warn- ing previously) with wliich I had furnished them at their own request, and at my own peril and expense. " It was lucky that Lcga was at home to receive them. If any of the servants had (exept Tita and F. andLega) 'hey would have betrayed it immediately. In the mean time, if they are denounced, or discovered, I shall be in a scrape . fc "At nine went out — at eleven returned. Beal the crow for stealing the falcon's victuals. Read 'Talcs of my Landlord' — wrote a letter — and mixed a moderate beakei of water with other uigredients. ■February 18, 1821. "T>.» news are that the Neapolitans have broken a bridge, and slain four pontifical carabiniers, whilk cara- biniers, wished to oppose. Besides the disrespect to neutrality, it is a pity that the first blood shed in this Ger- man quarn-l should be Italian. However, the war seems begun in good earnest; for, if the Neapolitans kill the Pope's carabiniers, thpv will not be more delicate towards the Barbarians. If it be even so, in a short time, 'there will be news o' thac craws,' as Mrs. Alison Wilson says of Jenny Biane's 'unco cockernony' in the Tales of my Landlord. " In turning over Grimm's Correspondence to-day, I found a thought of Tom Moore's in a song of Maupertms to a lemale Laplander. 1 Ft tons lea Henx, Oil «oni seaytux. Fool 1b Zone brulnnlt.' This is Moore's— ' And those «•-*• mskc my climate, wherever I roam.* But I am sure that Moore never saw it; for this song was puhhslird in Grimm's Correspondence in 1813, and I knew Moore's by heart in 1812. There is also another out an antithetical coincidence. 'Lesoletlliiil, Des Jours sum emit Hieiiid'. it n — >pn dflitint ; Mais ces long* Joiiri S.- [-..Hi trop courU, I'RMies pre* des Christine.* This u the OwtiglU, rtjucr.W, of the last itanza of the 33 ballad on Charlotte Lynes, given in M.ss Seward's Me- moirs ot Darwin, which is pretty — I quote from memory of these last fifteen years. ' For my first in'rhi 1 'II so To UluM regions of SHOW, Where the sun lor six months ne'er shiiieu ; And think, even thin, He loo loon Ciiine Again, To disturb me wltb fair Charlotte Lynes.* "To-day I have had no communication with my Car- bonari cronies; but, in the mean lime, my lower apart- ments are full of their bayonets, fusils, cartridges, and what not. I suppose thai they consider me as a depot, to be sacrificed, in case of accidents. It is no great matter, supposing that Italy could be liberated, who or what is sacrificed. It w a grand object — the very poetry of poli- tics. Only think — a free Italy!!! Whv, there has been nodiing like it since the days of Augustus. I reckon the times ofCsse&r (Julius) free; because the commotions left every body a side to take, and the parties were pretty equal at the set out. But, afterward, it was all Pretorian and legionary business — we shall see, or at least, some will see, what card will turn up. It is best to hope, even f the hopeless. The Dutch did more than these fellows have to do, in the Seventy Years' War. "February 19,1821. "Came home solus — very high wind — lightning — moonshine — solitary stragglers muffled in cloaks — women in mask — white houses— clouds hurrying over the sky, like spilt milk blown out of the pail — altogether very poetical. It is still blowing hard — the tiles flying, and the house rocking — rain splashing — lightning flashing — quite a fine Swiss Alpine evening, and the sea roaring in the distance. Visited — conversazione. All the women frightened by the squall: they toon'* 1 20 to the masquerado because it lightens — the pious reason! "Still blowing awav. A. has sent me some news to- day. The war approaches nearer and nearer. Oh those scoundrel sovereigns ! Let us but see them beaten — let the Neapolitans but have the pluck of the Dutch of old, or nf the Spaniards of now, or of the German Protestants, the Scotch Presbyterians, lhe Swiss under Tell, or the Greeks under Themistocles — all small and solitary nations, (excep! the Spaniards and German Lutherans,) and there is yet a resurrection fur Italy, ar> 1 a hope for the world. "February 20,1821. u The news of the day are, that the Neapolitans are full of energy. The public spirit Acre is certainly well kept up. The ' Americani* (a patriotic societv here, an under- branch of the 'Carbonari') give a dinner, in Vie Forest in a few days, and have invited me, as one of the C It is lobe in Vic F'irest of Boecacio's and Dry dens 'Hunts- man's Ghost ;' and, even if I had not the same political feelings, (to say nothing of my old convivial turn, which every now and then revives,) I would go as a poet, or, at least, as a lover of poetry. I shall expect to see the spectre of'Ostasio* degli Onesti' (Dry den has turned him into Guido Cavalcanti — an essentially different person, as may be found in Dante) come ' thundering for his prey'f in the midst of the festival. At any rate, whether he does or no, I will get as tipsy and patriotic as possible. "Within these few days I have read, but not written "February 21, 1821. *As usual, rode — visited, &c. Business begins to thicken. The Pope has printed a declaration against the patriots, who, he says, meditate a rising. The conse- quence of all this will be, that, in a fortnight, the whole country will be up. The proclamation is not yet published, but printed, ready for distribution. * * sent me a copy privately — a sign that he does not know what to think. * To Bocraclo, tlm nnme is, I thiok, Nestogio. t 3m L)ou Juan, t UlO 3d, 1U5 «ud lOfi. EXTRACTS FROM A JOURNAL, 1821. 258 When he wants to be well with the patriots, he sends to me some civil message or other. « For my own part, it seems to me, that nothing but the most decided success of the Barbarians can prevent a general and immediate rise of the whole nation. "February 23, 1821. •Almost ditto with yesterday— rode, &c— veiled— wrote nothing— read Roman History. •Had a curious letter from a fellow, who inform me that the Barbarians are ill-disposed towards inc. Ho is probably a spy, or an impostor. But be it 80,0] u he says. They cannot bestow their hostility on one who loathes and execrates them more than 1 do, or who will oppose their views with more zeal, when the opponunuj oners. •February 24,1821. •Rode, &c. as usual. The secret intelligence arrived JUS morr.bg from the frontier to the &. is as bad as pos- sible. The plan has missed— the chiefs are betrayed, military as well as cavil— and the Neapolitans not only have not moved, but have declared to the 1'. government, and to the Barbarians, diat they know nothing ol the matter!!! , « Thus the world goes ; and thus the Italians are always lost for lack of union among themselves. What is to be done lure, between the two fires, and cut off from the N». frontier, is not decided. My opinion was, better to rise than be taken in detail ; but how it will be settled now, I cannot tell. Messengers are despatched to the delegates of the other cities to learn their resolutions. "I always had an idea that it would be bungUd ; but was willing to hope, and am so still. Whatever I can do by money, means, or person, I will venture freely for their freedom; and have so repeated to them (some oT the Chiefs here) half an hour ago. I have two thousand rive hundred scudi, better than five hundred pounds, in the house, which I offered to begin with. "February 25,1821. "Came home— my head aches— plenty of news, but too tiresome to set down. 1 have neither read, nor written, nor thought, but led a purely annual life all day. I mean to Iry to write a page or two before I go to bed. But, as Squire Sullen says, 'My head aches consumedly: Scrub, bring me a dram!' Drank some Imola wine, and some punch. Log-book continual "February 27, 1821. "1 have been a day without continuing tie- log, because lcocld not find a blank book. At length I re acted this. " Rode, &r. dined — wrote down an additional stanza for the 6th canto of D. J. which I had composed in bed this morning. Visited {Arnica. We are invited on the ni"ht of the Vcglione, (next Domenica) with the Mar- chess Clelia Cavalli and the Countess Spinclh Kusponi. 1 promise! to go. Last night Uiere was a row at the ball, of which I am a 'socio.' The vice-legale had the impu- dent insolence to introduce (Am of bis servants m mask— without tickets, too! and in spile of remonstrances. The consequence was, that die young men of die ball look it up, and were near throwing the vice-legate out of die win- dow. His servants, seeing ihc scene, withdrew, and he after them. His reverence Munsignorc ought to know that these are not limes for the predominance of priests ant decorum. Two minutes mure, two steps tanner, and [he whole city would have been in arms, and the govern- ment driven out of it. "Such is the spirit of the day, and these fellows appca. not to perceive it. As far as the simple fact went, th. young men were right, servants being prohibited always at these festivals. , ■Yesterday wrote two notes on the 'Bowles and Kope nroversy.and sent them off to Murray by die post. The old n an whom 1 relieved in the tores! [she a ninety- four years of age") brought me two bunches ..1 nolels. ■Nam v.ia gaudel morula Boribus.' 1 was much | with the present. An Englishwoimn would have pre- sented a pair of wonted stockings, at least, in the month of February. Both excellent tbuigs; but the former are moreelegant. The present,*! this season, reminds one of Gray's stanza, omitted from his elegy. ' Here KatUu-'d ..ft. the airlift of the rear, By hnuds „n«cen, are ■bowers of Yiulela fouod ; Thr redtirsou love* lo build and warble here, And little tbotaupi liRhlly priul the ground.' As fine a stanza as any in bis elegy. I wonder that he could have the heart to omit it. . "Last nighl I suffered horribly— ffom an indigestion, I believe. I neuer gup— that is, never at home. But, last nighl I was prevailed upon by die Countess Ganibas persuasion, and die strenuous example of her broiher, to swallow, at supper, a quantity of boiled cockles, and to dilute them,no< reluctantly, with some Imola « V\ hen 1 cam.- home, apprehensive of the consequences, I swal- lowed three or foa> glasses of spirits, which men (the renders) call brandy, rum, or Hollands, but which gods would cntiile spirits of wine, coloured or sugared. All was pretty well till I got to bed, when I became somewhat swollen, ami considerably vertiginous. I got out, and mixing some soda-powders, drank them off. This brought on temporary relief. I relumed to bed; but grew sick anil st.rrv once and again. Took moie soda-water. At last I fell into a dreary sleep. Woke, and was ill all day, till I had galloped a few miles. Query— was it the cockles, or what I look to correct them, that caused die commotion? I think both. I remarked m my illness the complete inerlion, inaction, and destruction of my chiet mental facullies. I tried to rouse them, and yet could not— and this is the Soul .' ! ! I should believe that it was mar- ried 10 die body, if dley did Dot sympathize so much with each odier. Ifme one rose, "hen the other fell, it WOUSJ be a sign dial they longed for the natural slate ol divorce, But, as"il is, they seem lo draw together like poslhorses "Let us hope die best— it is the granu possession. " la uulUter paper-book. * Sm Journal. Jan. OS DETACHED THOUGHTS. (kXTRACTED FROM VARIOUS JOURNALS, MEMORANDUMS, &c. &c.) On the first leaf of his " Scriptores Graci" is in his schoolboy hand, the following memorial : — " George Gor- don Byron, Wednesday, June 26th, a. d. 1805, 3 quarters of an hour past 3 o'clock in the afternoon, 3d school, — Calvert, monitor, Tom Wildman on my left hand, and Long on my right. Harrow on the Hill." On the same leaf, written five years after, appears this comment: " Kheu fugnces, Puslhume I Poslhume I Labuuluraoiii. 1 B. January 9lh, 1809. — Of the four persons whose names are here mentioned, one is dead, another in a dis- tant climate, all separated, and not five years have elapsed since they fat together in school, and none are yet twenty- one years of age. In some of his other school books are recorded the date of his entrance at Harrow, the names of the boys who were at that time monitors, and the list of his fellow- pupils under Doctor Drurv, as follows: "Byron, Harrow on the Hill, Middlesex, Alumnus Scholar Lyonensis primus in anno Domini 1801, Ellison Duce." " Monitors, 1801 . — Ellison, Royston, Hunxman, Rash- leiifh, Rokebv, Leigh." " Drury's Pupils, 1S04. — Byron, Drury, Sinclair, Hoare, Bolder, Annesley, Calvert, Strong, Acland, Gordon, Drummond." ****** "For several years of mv earliest childhood, I was in Aberdeen, but have never revisited it since I was ten years old. I was sent, at five years old or earlier, to a school kept by a Mr. Bowers, who was called ' Bo' ag^ hut rather lively — except in my sullen moods, progress at home, I repeated these words with the most I an( l men I was always a devil. They once (in one of rapid fluency ; but on turning over a new |ea£ I continued \ m Y silent rages) wrenched a knife from me, which I had to repeal them, so that the narrow boundaries of my first snatched from table at Mrs. B.'s dinner, (I always dined year's accomplishments were detected, my ears boxed, ' earlier,) and applied to my breast ; — but this was three or (which they did not deserve, seeing it was by ear only f°"r years after, just before the late Lord B.'s decease. ■Grammar School' (Scotia" t 'Schule;' Aherdomce, ' Squeel,') where I threaded all the classes to the fourth, when I was recalled to England (where I had been hatched) by the demise of mv uncle. I acquired this handwriting, which I can hardly read myself, under the fair copies of Mr. Duncan of the same city: I don't think he would plume himself much upon my progress. However, I wrote much better then than I have ever done since. Haste and agitation of one kind or another have quite spoiled as pretty a scrawl as ever scratched over a frank. The grammar school might consist of a hundred and fifty of all ages under age. It was divided into five classes taught by four masters, the chief teaching the fourth and fifth himself. As in England, the fifth, sixth forms, and monitors, are heard by the head masters." ****** a I doubt sometimes whether, after all, a quiet and unagitated Ufe would have suited me; yet I sometimes long for it. My earliest dreams (as most boys' dreams are) were martial ; but a little later they were all for love and retirement, till the hopeless attachment to M * * * Q * * * began and continued (though sedulously con- cealed) very early in my teens; and so upwards for a time. Thut threw me out again 'alone on a wide, wide sea.' In the year 1804, 1 recollect meeting my sister at General Haicourt's in Portland-place. I was then one things and as she had always till then found me. When we met again in 1805, (she told me since) my temper and disposition were so completely altered that I was hardly to be recognised. I was not then sensible of the change; but I casi believe it, and account for it." ****** "In all other respects," (he says, after mentioning his thru [ had acquired my letters,) and my intellects con- to a new preceptor. He was a very devout, clever little clergyman, named Ross, afterward minister of one of the kirks, (.East, I think.) Under him I made asto- nishins progress, and I recollect to this day his mild man- ners and good-natured pains-taking. The moment I could read, my grand passion was history^ and, why I know- not, but I was particularly taken with the battle Mv ostensible temper has certainly improved in later years ; but I shudder, and must, to my latest hour, regret the con^eijiieni.-i* nf it and my passions combined. One event — but no matter — there are others not much better to think of also— and to them I give the preference " But I hate dwelling upon incidents. Mv temper is now under management — rarely lovrl, and, when !oud, never deadly. It is when silent, and I feci my forehead near the Lake Regillus in the Roman History, put into a "d m y cheek paling, that I cannot control it ; and then my hands the first. Four years a^o, when standing on the heights of Tusculum, and looking down upon the little round lake that was once Regillus, and which dots the immense expanse below, I remembered my young enthu- siasm and my old instmcter. Afterward I had a very serious, saturnine, but kind young man, named Paterson, for a tutor. He was the son of my shoemaker, but a good scholar, as is common with the Scotch. He was a rigid Presbyterian also. With him I began Latin in Ruddiman's grammar, and continued till I went to the but unless there is a woman (and not any or every woman) in the way, I have sunk into tolerable apathy." ****** " My passions were developed very early — so ear'? that few would believe me if I were to stale the period and the facts which accompanied it. Perhaps this was one of the reasons which caused the anticipated melan- choly of my thoughts, — having anticipated Ufe. My earlier poems are the thoughts of one at least ten years older than the age at which thoy were written, — I do n't 260 DETACHKD THOUGHTS. mean for their solidity, but their experience. The first tWO Cantos of Childe Harold wen- completed at tw l ntv- two; and they are written as if by a man older than I shall probably ever be." ****** "My first dash into poetry was as early as 1800. It was the ebullition of a passion for my first cousin, Mar- gsret Parker, (daughter and granddaughter of the two Admirals Parker,) one of the most beautiful of evanes- cent beings. I have long forgotten the verses, but it would be difficult for me to forget her — her dark eyes — her long eyelashes — her completely Greek cast of tare and figure! I was then about twelve — she rather older, perhaps a year. She died about a year or two afterward, in consequence of a fall, which injured her spine, and induced consumption. Her sister Augusta (by some thought still more beautiful) died of the same malady ; and it was, indeed, in attending her, that Margaret met with the accident which occasioned her own death. Mv sister told me, that when she went to see her, shortly before hardeith, upon accidentally mentioning my name, Margaret coloured through the paleness of mortality to the eyes, to the great astonishment of mv sister, who (residing with her grandmother, Lady Holdemess, and seeing but little of me, for family reasons) knew nothing of our attachment, nor could conceive why mv name should affect her at such a time. I knew nothing of her illness, being at Harrow and in the country, till she was gone. Some years after, I made an attempt at an elegy — a very dull one.* "I do not recollect scarcely any thing equal to the transpurrtU beauty of my cousin, or to the sweetness of her temper, during the short period of our intimacy. She looked as if she had been made out of a rainbow — all beauty and peace. "My passion had its usual effects upon me — I could not sleep — I could not eat — I could not rest; and although I had reason to know that she loved me, it was the texture of my life to think of the time which must elapse before we could meet again — being usually about twelve hours of separation! But I was a fool then, and am not much wiser now." ****** "When I was fifteen years of age, it happened that, in i cavern in Derbyshire, I had to cross in a boat, (in which wo people only could lie down,) a stream which flows under a rock, with the rock so close upon the water as to admit the boat only to be pushed on by a ferryman (;i sort of Charon) who wades at the stern, Btooping all tin- time. The companion of my transit was Mary Anns Chaworth,with whom I had been long in love and never told it, though .«/«had discovered it without. I recollect my sensations, but cannot describe them, and ii is as well. We were a party, a Mr. W. two Miss W.'s, Mr. and Mrs. CI— ke, Miss R. and my M. A. C. Alas! win do I say my? Our union would have healed feuds in which blood had been shed by our fathers, it would have joined lands broad and rich, it would have joined at leasi one heart, and two persons not ill matched in years, (she is two years my elder,) and — and — and — wliat has been the result?" •When T was a youth, I was reckoned a good actor. Besides 'Harrow Speeches', (in which I shone,) 1 enacted Penrnddock, in the 'Wheel of Fortune,' and Tristram Fickle in Allinshaiii's farce of the 'Weathercock,' for three nights, (the duration of our compact,) in some private theatricals at Southwell, in 1806, with great applause. The occasional prologue for our volunteer play was also of my composition. The other performers were young ladies and gentlemen of the neighborhood, ' See preceding McmorniidK, on f«g* 329. and the whole went off with great effect upon our good* natured audience." + *****. ■ When I first went up to college, it was a new and a heavy-hearted scene for me: firstly, I so much disliked leaving Harrow, that though it was lime, (1 being seven- teen,) it broke my very rest for the last quartet with counting the days that remained. I always lated Harrow till the last year and a half, but then I liked it. Secondly, I wished to go to Oxford and not to Cambridge. Thirdly, I was so completely alone in this new world, that it half broke mv spirits. Mv companions were nut unsocial, but the contrary — lively, hospitable, of rank and fortune, and gay far beyond my gayety. I minded with, and dined and supped, &C. with them : but, 1 know not how, ii was i'iie of the deadliest and heaviest feelings of my life to feel that 1 was no longer a boy." "From that moment" (lie adds) "I began to grow old in my own esteem, and in mv esteem age is not estima- ble. I took my gradations in the rices With great promp- titude, but they were not to my taste ; for my early pas- sions, though violent in the extreme, were concentrated, and hated division or spreading abroad. I could have left or lost the whole world with, or for, that which I loved ; but, though my temperament was naturally burn- ing, I could not share in the commonplace libertinism of (be place and time without disgust. And yet this very disgust, and my heart thrown back upon itself, threw me into excesses perhaps more fatal than those from which I shrunk, as living upon one (at a time) the passions which spread among many would have hurt only myself." ****** "Till 1 was eighteen years old (odd as it may seem) I had never read a Review. But while at Harrow, my general information was so great on modern topics as to induce a suspicion that I could only collect so much tnfor- mat ion from Reviews, because I was never san reading but always idle, and in mischief, or at play. The truth is, that I read eating, read m bed, read when no one else read, and had read all sorts of reading since I was five years old, and yet never met with a Review, which is the only reason I know of why I should not have read them. Bui it is true ; for I remember when Hunter and Curzon, in 1804, told me this opinion at Harrow, J made them laugh by my ludicrous astonishment in asking them, 1 ll'httt is a Review?' To he sure, they were then less common. In three years more, I was better acquainted with that same ; but the lirst I ever read was in I80&-7. "At School I was (as I have said) remarked for the extent and readiness of my gewrul information ; but in all Other respects idle, capable of great sudden exertions, (such as thirty or forty Greek hexameters, of course with such prosody as it pleased God,) bul of firo continuous drudgeries. Mv qualities were much mure oratorical and martial than poetical, and Dr. Drury, my grand patron, (our head master,) had a great notion that I should turn out an orator, from mv fluency, my turbulence, my voice, my copiousness of declamation,and my action. I remem- ber that my first declamation astonished him into some unwonted (for he was economical of such) and sudden compliments, before the declanners at our first rehearsal. My first Harrow verses, (thai ts, English, as exercises,) a translation of a chorus from the Prometheus of vEschy- lus, were received by him but coolly. No one had th« least QOtion that I should subside mtO poesy. "Peel, the orator and statesman, ('that was, or is, or is to be,') was my form-fellow, and we were both at the i"|i of our remove, (a public-school phrase.) We were on ;ood terms, but his brother was my intimate friend. There vere always great hopes of Peel, among us all, masters ind scholars — and he has not disappointed them. As a icholar he was greatly mv superior; as a declaimer and actor, I was reckoned at least his equal ; as a schoolboy out of school, I was always in scrapes, and he nevtr ; and DETACHED THOUGHTS. 261 in urAW, he always knew his lessc and I rarely, — but when 1 knew it, I knew it nearly as well. In general information, history, &c. &c. I think I was his superior, as well as of most boys of my standing. " The prodigy of our school-days wasGcorge Sinclair, (son of Sir John ;) he made exercises for half the school, (litrrally,) verses at will, and themes without 11. * * * He waa a friend of mine, and in the same remove, and used at turns to beg me to let him do my exercise, — a request always most readily accorded upon a pinch] or when I wanted to do something else, which was usually once an hour. On the other hand, he was pacific and I savage ; so I fought for him, or thrashed others for him. or thrashed himself to make him thrash others, when n was necessary) as a point of honour and stature, that he should so chastise ; or we talked politics, for he was a great politician, and were very good friends. I have some of his letters, written to me from school, still.* "Clayton was another school-monster of learning, and talent, and hope ; but what has become of him I do not know. He was certainly a genius. "My school friendships were with me passions, (for I waa always violent,) but I do not know that there is one winch has endured (to be sure some have been cut short bv death) till now. That with Lord Clare began one of tli,- earliest and lasted longest — being only interrupted by distance — that I know of. I never hear the word ' Clare without a beating of the heart even now, and I write it with the feelings of 1803-4-5 ad infinitum." "At Harrow I fought my way very fairly. I think I lost but one battle out of seven ; and that was to H : — and the rascal did not win it, but by the unfair treat- ment of his own hoarding-house, where we boxed — I had not even a second. I never forgave him, and I should be sorry to meet him now, as I am sure we should quarrel. My most memorable combats were with Morgan, Rice, Rainsford] and Lord Jocelyn, — but we were always friendly afterward. 1 was a most unpopular boy, but/ed latterly, and have retained many of my school friendships, and all my dislikes — except to Doctor Butler, whom I treated rebelliously, and have been sorry ever since. Doctor Drurv, whom I plagued sufficiently too, was the best, the kindest (and yet strict, too) friend I ever had — and I look upon him still as a father. "P. Hunter, Cur/on, Long, and Tatersall, were my principal friends. Clan-, Dorset, C*. Gordon, De Bath, Claridee, and J M , Win 2 tie Id, were my juniors and favour- ites, whom I spoiled by indulgence. Of all human brings, 1 was, perhaps, at one time, the most attached to poor YVingtield, who died at Coimbra, 1811, before I relumed to England." ***** "I have been thinking over, the other day, on the vari- ous comparisons, good or evil, which T have seen published of myself in different journals, English and foreign. This was suggested to mo by accidentally turning over a foreign one lately, — f>r I have made it a rule latterly neve? to search for any thing of the kind, but not to avoid the perusal if presented by chance. "To begin, then: I have seen myself compared per- sonally or poetically, in English, French, German, (as interpreted to me,) Italian, and Portuguese, within these nine years, to Rousseau, Goethe, Young, Are tine, Timon of Athens, Dante, Petrarch, ' an alabaster vase, lighted up wii I mi.' Satan, Shakspeare, Buonaparte, Tiberius, wEschy- lus, Sophocles, Euripides, Harlequin, the Clown, Stem- hold and Hopkins, to the phantasmagoria, to Henry the Eighth, to Chenier, to Mirabeau, to young R. Dallas, (the schoolboy,) to Michael Angelo, to Raphael, to a petit-maitre, to Diogenes, to Childe Harold, to Lara, to the Count in Beppo, to Milton, to Pope, to Dryden, to Burns, to Savage, to Chatterton, to 'oft have I heard of thee, my Lord Biron, 1 in Sliakspeare, to Churchill the poet, to Kean the actor, to A.rien,4tc. &c. &c. "The likeness to Alheri was asserted very seriously by an Italian who had known hnn in his younger days. It nf course related merely to our apparent personal dispo- sitions. He did not assert it to me, (for we were not men good friend?,) but in society. "The object of so many contradictory comparisons must probably be like something different from them all; hut what that is, is more than /know, or anybody else." ***** "My mother, before I was twenty, would have it that I was like Rousseau, and Madame de Stael used to say so too in 1SI3, and the Edinburgh Review has something of the sort in its critique on the fourth Canto of Childe Harold. I can't see anv point of resemblance: — he wroie prose; I verse: he was of the people; 1 of the aristocracy:* he "as a philosopher; I am none: he published his first work at forty ; I mine at eighteen: his first essay broughl him universal applause ; mine the contrary: he married his housekeeper ; I could not keep house with my wife: he thought all the world in a plot HL'am-M him ; my hltle world seems to think me in a plot against it, if I may judge by their abuse in print and coterie: he liked botany; I like flowers, herbs, and trees, but know nothing of their pedigrees: he wrote music; I ii i ni my knowledge of it to what I catch by ear — 1 never could learn anv thing by study, not even a language — it was all by rote, and ear, and memory : he had a bad memory; I ha/l, at least, an excellent one, (ask Hodgson, the poet — a good judge, for he has an astonishing one:) he wrote with hesitation and care; I with rapidity, and rarely with pains: he could never ride, nor swim, nor 'was cunning of fence;' / am an excellent swimmer, a decent, though not at all a dashing, rider, (having staved in a rib at eighteen in the course of scampering,) and was sufficient of fence, particularly of the Highland broadsword, — not a bad boxer, when I could keep my temper, which was difficult, but which I stiove to do ever since I knocked down Mr. Purling, and put his kneepan out (with the gloves on,) in Angelo's and Jackson's rooms, in 1806, during the sparring, — and I was besides a verv fair cricketer— one of the Harrow eleven, when we played against Eton in 1805. Besides, Rousseau's way of life, his country, his manners, his whole character, were so very different, thai I am al a toss to conceive how such a comparison could have arisen, as it has done three several times, and all in rather a remarkable manner. I forgot to say that he was also shortsighted, and that hitherto my eyes have been the contrary, to such a decree, that in the largest theatre of Bologna I distin- guished and read some busts and inscriptions [tainted near the stage from a box so distant and so darkly lighted, that none of 'he company (composed of young and very bright-eyed people, some of them in the same box) could make out a letter, an I ihou-jht it was atnek, though I had never been in thai theatre before. "Altogether, I think mvself "justified in thinking the comparison no) well founded. I don't say this out of pique, for Rousseau was a great man. and the thing, if true, were flattering enough; — but I have no idea of being pleased with a chimera." * * * * ***** "t have been thinking of an odd circumstance. My daughter, (1) my wife, (-2) my half-sister, (3) my mother, (4) my skier's mother, (5) my natural daughter, (6) and mvself, (7) are, or were, all only children. My sister's mother (Lady Conyers) had only my half-sister by that second marriage, (herself, too, an only child,) and my father had onlv me, an only child, by his second marriage with my mother, an only child too. Such a complication of only children, all tending to one family, is singula! *Se« C^UIU.oUl. Canto I. Nole 19. 262 DETACHED THOUGHTS. enough, and looks like fatality almost. But the fiercest animals have the fewest numbers in their litters, as lions, tigers, and even elephants, which arc mild in compari- son."* ***** "I have a notion (he savs) that gamblers are as happy as many people, being always tooted, Women, wine, t.un -, llie table, — even ambition, sate now and then; but every turn of the card and cast of the dux keeps the gamester alive ; besides, one can j/ame ten times longer than uncertainty] not only of good luck or bad luck, but of any luck at all, as one had sometimes to throw often to decide at all. I have thrown as many as fourteen mams running, and earned u\T all the cash upon the table occasionally ; but I had no coolness, or judgment, or cal- culation. It was the delight of the thing that pleased me. I'pon the whole, I left oil" in time, without being much ;i winner or loser. Since une-and-twenty years >>t " ai-e I Wave played but Utile, and litwi never above a hundred, or two, or threw " * * * "LIST OF HrHTUKlCAL WHITERS WHOSE WORKS I HAVE PERUSED IN DIFFERENT LANGUAGES. 11 History of England. — Hume, Rapin, Henry, Smollet, Tindal, Belsham, Bisset, Adolphus, Hotingshed, Frois- sart's Chronicles, (belonging properly to Prance. j " Scotland. — Buchanan, Hector Boethius, both in the Latin. tt Ireland. — Gordon. " Rome. — Hooke, Decline and Fall by Gibbon, Ancient History by Rollin, (including an account of the Carthagi- nians, &c.) besides law, Tacitus, Kutropius, Cornelius Ni-pos, Julius Ciesar, Arrian, Sallust. 8 Greece. — Mitfurd's Greece, Leland's Philip, Plutarch, Potter's Antiquities, Xenophon, Thucydides, Herodotus. " France. — Mezeray, Voltaire. " Spain — I chiefly derived my knowledge of old Spanish I Eistory from a hook called the Atlas, now obsolete. The modern history, from the intrigues of Alheroni down to the Prince of Peace, I Learned from its connexion with European politics. "Portugal. — From Vertot ; as also his account of the Siege of Rhodes, — though tho last is his own invention, the real facts being totally different. — So much for his Knights of Maha. 8 Turkey. — I have read Knolles, Sir Paul Rycaut, and Prince Caiitenur, besides aiuore modern history, ai'.o- nymous. Of the Ottoman History I know every event, from Tangralopi, and afterward Othman I. to the peace of Passarowite, in 1718, — the battle ofCutzka,in 1739, and the treaty between Russia and Turkey, in 1790, " Russia. — Tooke's Lite of I 'atherine 11. Voltaire^ Czar Peter. "Sweden. — Voltaire's Charles XII also Norberg's Charles XII. — in my opinion the best of the two. — A translation of Schiller's Thirty Years' War. which con- tains the exploits of (!ir-la\ns Adolphus, l>r--iiles Hartes Life of the same Prince. I have somewhere, too, read an account of Gustavus Vasa, the deliverer of Sweden, but do not remember the author's Dame "Prussia. — I have seen, at least, twenty Lives of Fre- derick II. the only prince worth recording in Prussian annals. Gillies, His own Works, and Thiebault, — none very arousing. The last is paltry, but chrumstantiaj, " Denmark I know little of. Of Norway I understand the natural history, but not the chronological. "Germany. — I have read long histories of the house * Sat LcUer 538. of Suahia, Wene. s!ans, and, at length, Rodolph of Hape- burgh and his thwk-lipped Austrian descendants. " Switzerland. — Ah! William Tell, and the battle of Morgarten, where Burgundj was slain. "Italy. — Davila, Gmcciardini, the Guelphs and Ghibet- lines, the battle of Pavia, Massanieuo, the revolutions of \a]il''s, k- . ^e. " Jlimii'stan. — Orme and Cambridge. " Ann Vndrews 1 American War. "Africa. — Merely from travels, as Mungo Park, Bruce. " BIOORAPBT. "Robertson's Charles \ — Csssar, Sallust, (Catiline and JugurthaA Lives of Marlborough and Eugene] Tekrli, Ronnard, Buonaparte, all the British Poets, both by Johnson and Anderson, Rousseau's Confi ssions, Life of l>i unwell, British I'lu'areli, I In ish N epos, < Campbell's Lives nf the Admirals, Charles X 11. CzOT Peter. ' rine II. Henry Lord Kaimea, MarmoDlel, Tcignmouth's Sir William Jones, Life of Newton, Beiisaire, with thou- Bands OOt tO he delailed. "LAW. " Blackstone, Montesquieu. "philosophy. "Paley, Locke, Bacon, Hume, Berkeley, Drummond, Beattie, and Bolingbroke. Hohbes I detest. "geography. "Strabo, Cellanus, Adams, Pinkerton, and Guthrie. " POETRY. "All the British Classics, as before detailed, with most of the livini: ports, Scott, Sotithey, &c. — Some French, in the original, of which the Cid is my favourite. — Little Italian. — (jrreek and Latin without number ; — moss las) i shall give up in future. — I have translated a good deal from both languages, verse as well as prose. "eloquence. 'Demosthenes, Cicero, Quiimlian, Sheridan, Austin's Chironomia, and Parliamentary Debates, from the Re- volution to the year 1742. "divinity. "Bbir, Porteus, Tillotson, Hooker, — all very tiresome. I abhor books of religion, though I reverence and love my God, without the blasphemous notions of sectaries, or belief in their absurd and damnable heresies, mysteries, and Thirty-nine Articles. "miscellanies. "Spectator, Rambler, World, &c. &c. — Novels by tho thousand. "All the books here enumerated I have taken down from memory. I recollect reading them, and can quote passages from any mentioned. I have, of course, omit led several in my catalogue; but the greater part of the above I perused before the age of fifteen, Since I left Harrow I have become idle and conceited, from scribbling rhyme and niakiii'.' love to wmnen. " B. — Nov. 30, 1807. K I have also read (to my regrel al present) above tour thousands novels, including the works of< lervantea, Field- ing Bmollet, Richardson, Mackenzie, Sterne, Rabelas% and Rousseau, &<:. &c. The book, in mv opinion, BOSt useful to a man who wishes to acquire the reputation of being well read, with the least trouble, is, 'Burton's Ana- tomy of Melancholy, 1 the most amusing and instructive medley of quotations and classical anecdotes I ever pemaed. But a superficial reader must take < are, or Ins intricacies will bewilder him. If however, he has patience to go through his volumes, he will be more unproved fir literary conversation than by the perusal of any twenty DETACHED THOUGHTS. 263 other works with which I am acquainted, — at least, in the English language. 1 ' In the same book that contains the above record of his studies, he has written our, also from memory, a "List of the different poets, dramatic or otherwise, who have distinguished their respective languages by their produc- tions." After enumerating the various poets, both ancient and modern, of Europe, he thus proceeds with his cata- logue through other quarters of the world : — " Arabia. — Mahomet, whose Koran contains most sublime poetical passages, far surpassing European poetry. "Persia. — Ferdousi, author of the Shah Nameh, the Persian Iliad, — SaJi, and Hatiz, the immortal Hafiz, die oriental Anacreon. The last is reverenced beyond any bard of ancient or modern times by the Persians, who resort to his tomb near Shiraz, to celebrate his memory. A splendid copy of his works is chained to his monument, "America. — An epic poet has already appeared in that hemisphere, Barlow, author of die Columbiad, — not to be compared with the works of more polished nations. K Iceland^ Denmark, Norway^ were famous for their Skalds. Among these Lodburg was one of the most dis- tinguished. His Death-Song breathes ferocious senti- tsents, tut a glorious and impassioned strain of poetry. "Hindustan is undistinguished by any great bard, — at least, the Sanscrit is so imperfectly known to Europeans, wc know not what poetical relics may exist. " The Birman Empire. — Here the natives are passion- ately fond of poetry, but their hards are unknown. a China. — I never heard of any Chinese poet but die Emperor Kicn Long, and his ode to Tea. What a pity their philosopher Confucius did not write poetry, with his precepts of morality! " Africa. — In Africa some of the native melodies are plaintive, and the words simple and affecting ; but whether their rude strains of nature can be classed with poetry, as the son^s of the bards, the Skalds of Europe, &c. &c. I know not. "This brief list of poets I have written down from memory, without any book of reference ; consequently some errors may occur, but I think, if any, very trivial. The works of the European, and some of the Asiatic, I have perused, either in the original or translations. In my list of English, I have merely mentioned the greatest; — to enumerate the minor poets would be useless, as well as tedious. Perhaps Gray,Goldsmith,andCollins, might have have added, as worthy of mention, in a cosmopolite account. But as for the others, from Chaucer down to Churchill, thev are 'voces et prceterea nihil ;' — sometimes spoken of, rarely read, and never with advantage. Chaucer, not- withstanding the praises bestowed on him, I think obscene and contemptible: — he owes his celebrity merely to his antiquity, which he does not deserve so well as Pierce, Plowman, or Thomas of Ercildoune. English living poets I have avoided mentioning; — we have none who will not survive their productions. Taste is over with us ; and another century will sweep our empire, our literature, and our name, from all but a place in the annals of mankind. "Byron." "November 30, 1807. ****** "Knolles, Canlemir, DeTot%Lady M. W. Montague, Hawkins's Translation from Mignot's History of the Turks, the Arabian Nights, all travels, or histories, or Sooks upon the East I could meet with, I had read, as well as Rycaut, before I was ten years old. I think the Arabian Nights first. After these, I preferred the history of naval actions, Don Quixote, and Smollet's novels, par- ticularly Roderick Random, and I was passionate for the Roman History. When a boy, I could never bear t" read any poetry whatever without disgust and relur . once." " When I belonged to the Drurv-lane Committee, and was one of the Sub-committee of Management, the num- ber of plays upon the shelves were about Jive hundred. Conceiving that among these there must be some of merit in person and by proxy I caused an investigation. I dc pot thirst that of those which I saw, there was one which coulJ be conscientiously tolerated. There never were such things as most of them ! Maturin was very kindly recommended to me by Waller Scott, to whom I had recourse, firstly, in the hope that he would do something for us himself, and secondly, in my despair, that he would point out to us any young (or old) writer of promise. Maturin sent his Bertram and a letter without his ad- dress, so that at first I could give him no answer. When 1 at last hit upon his residence, I sent him a favourable answer and somediing more substantial. His play suc- ceeded; but I was at that time absent from England. "I tried Coleridge too; but he had nothing feasible in hand at the time. Mr. Sotheby obligingly offered ail ids tragedies, and I pledged myself, and notwithstanding many squabbles with my Committed Brethren, did get 4 Ivan' accepted, read, and the parts distributed. But, lo! in the very heart of the matter, upon some tepidness on the part of Kean, or warmth on that of the author, Sotheby withdrew his play. Sir J. B. Burgess did also present four tragedies and a farce, and I moved green- room and Sub-committee, but they would not. "Then the scenes I had to go through! — the authors,' and the authoresses, and the milliners, and the wild Irish- men, — the people from Brighton, from Blackwail, from Chatham, from Cheltenham, from Dublin, from Dundee, — who came in upon me ! to all of whom it was proper to give a civil answer, and a hearing, and a reading. Mrs. Glover's father, an Irish dancing-master of sixty years, called upon me to request to play Archer, dressed in silk stockings, on a frosty morning, to show his legs (which were certainly good and Irish for his age, and had been still better,) — Miss Emma Somebody with a play entitled ( The Bandit of Bohemia,' or some such title or production, — Mr. O'Higgins, then resident at Richmond, with an Irish tragedy, in which the unities could not fail to be observed, for the protagonist was chained by tho leg to a pillar during the chief part of the performance. He was a wild man of a salvage appearance, and the difficulty of not laughing at him was only to be got over by reflecting upon the probable consequences of such cachinnation. K As I am really a civil and polite person, and do hato giving pain when it can be avoided, I sent them up to Douglas Kinnaird,— who is a man of business, and suffi- ciently ready with a negative, — and left them to settle with him; and as the beginning of next year I went abroad, I have since been little aware of the progress of the theatres. ****** " Players are said to be an impracticable people. They are so: but I managed to steer clear of any disputes with them, and excepting one debate with the elder Byrne about Miss Smith's pas de — (something — I forget the technicals,) — I do not remember any litigation of my own. I ased to protect Miss Smith, because she was like Lady Jane Harley in the face, and likenesses go a great way with me. Indeed, in general, I left such things to my more bustling colleagues, who used to reprove me seriously for not being able to take such things in hand without buffooing with the histrions, or throwing things into confusion by treating light matters with levity. ****** B Then the Committee! — then the Sub-committee! — we were but few, but never agreed. There was Peter Moore who contradicted Kinnaird, and Kinnaird who contradicted every body: then our two managers, Rae and Dibdin ; and our Secretary, Ward ! and yet we were all vary zealous and in earnest to do good and so forth. 264 DETACHED THOUGHTS. * * * * furnished us with prologues lo our revived old English plays; but was not pleased with ma f>r compli- menting him as 'the Upton' of our theatre, (Mr. Upton is or was the poet who writes the songs for Asllcy's,) and almost gave up prologuing in consequence. ****** "In the pantomime of 1815-16, there was a repre- sentation of the masquerade of 1814 given by ' us youth' of Watier's Club to Wellington and Co. Douglas Km- naird and one or two others, with myself] pul on masques, and went on the stage with the bt troXXoty to see the effect of a theatre from the stage: — it is very grand. Douglas danced among the figuranti too, and tbeywere puzzled to find out who we were, as being more than thiir number. It was odd enough that Douglas Kinnaird ami I should have been both at the real masquerade, and afterward in the mimic one of the same, on the stage of the Drury-lane theatre." ****** "In 1812," he says, "at Middleton, (Lord Jersey's,) iniung a goodly company of lords, ladies, and wits, &c. there was * * * * Erskine, too! Erskine was there ; good, but intoler- able. He jested, he talked] he did every thing admirably, but then he would be applauded for the same thing twice over- He would read his own verses, his own paragraph, ami tell his own story, again and again ; and then ' the Trial by jury ! ! !' I almost wished it abolished, for I sat next him at dinner. As I had read his published speeches, there was no occasion to repeat them to me. B C * * (the fox-hunter,) nicknamed ' Cheek C * *, and I, sweated the claret, being the only two who did so. C * *, who lores his bottle, and had no notion of meet- ing with a ' bon-vivanf in a scribbler, in making my eulogy to somebody one evening, summed it up in — l By G— d, he drinks like a man!' "Nobody drank, however, but C * * and I. To be ■We, there was little occasion, for we swept off what was on the table (a most splendid board, as may be supposed at Jersey's) verv sufficiently. However, we carried our liquor discreetly, like the Baron of Bradwardine." ****** "At the opposition meeting of the Peers, in 1812, at Lord Granville's, when Lord Grey and he read to us the correspondence upon Moira's negotiation, I sat next to the present Duke of Grafton, and said, ' What is to be done next V — ' Wake the Duke of Norfolk,' (who was snoring away near us,) replied he: 'I don't think the negotiators have left any tiling else for us to do this turn.' "In the debate, or rather discussion, afterward in the House of Lords upon that very question, I sat immedi- ately behind Lord Moi a, who was extremely annoyed at Grey's speech upon the subject; and, while Grey was speaking, turned round to me repeatedly, and asked me whether 1 agreed with him. It was an awkward question to mi | who had not heard both sides. Moira kept repeal- ing to me, ' It was not so, it was so and so,' &c. I did not know very well what to think, but I sympathized with the acuteness of his feelings upon the subject." "The subject of the Catholic claims was, it is well known, brought forward a second time this session by Lord WeUesleY] whose motion f<>ra future consideration of the question was carried by a majority of one. In reference to this division, another rather amusing anec- dote is thus related. "Lord * * affects an imitation of two very different Chancellors, Thurlow and Loughborough, and can indulge in an oath now and then. On one of the debates on the Catholic question, when we were either equal or within one, (I forget which,) I had been sent for in great haste oo a ball, which I quitted, I confess, somewhat reluctantly, to emancipate five millions of people. I came in late, and did not go immediately into the body of the House, but stood just behind the woolsack. * * turned round, and, catching my eye, immediately said to a peer, (who had come to him for a few minutes on the woolsack, as is the custom of his friends,) ' Damn them ! they 'II have it now, — by G — d! the vote that is just come in will give it them.' " ****** u When I came of age, some delays, on account of some birth and marriage certificates from Cornwall, occasioned me not to take my seat for several weeks. When these were over and 1 had taken the oaths, the Chancellor apologized to me for the delay, observing that these forms were a part of his duty.' I begged hiin to make no apology, and addict, (as he certainly had ihown no violent hurry,) 'Tour Lordship was exactly like Tom Thumb' (which was then being acted) — ' You did your duty, and you did no more.' 1 " ****** I have never heard any one who fulfilled my ideal of an orator. G rattan would have been near it, but for his harlequin delivery. Pilt I never heard. Fox but once, and then he struck me as a debater, which to me seems as different from an orator as an improvisatore, or a ver- sifier from a poet. Grey is great, but it is not oratory. Canning is sometimes very like one. Windham 1 did not admire, though all the world did; it seemed sad sophistry. Whit bread was the Demosthenes of bad taste and vulgar vehemence, but strong, and English. Holland is impressive from sense and sincerity. Lord Lansdowne good, but still a debater only. Grenville I like vastly, if he would prime his speeches down to an hour's delivery. Burdett is sweet and silvery as Belial himself, and I think the greatest favourite in Pan htno- nium, at least I always heard the country gentlemen and the ministerial devilry praise his speeches up stairs, and run down from Bellamy's when he was upon his RUB. I heard Bob Milnes make his second speech ; it made no impression. I like Ward — studied, but keen, and some- times eloquent Peel, my school and form-fellow, (we sale within two of each other,) strange to say, 1 have never heard} though 1 often wished to do so; but from what I remember of him at Harrow, he is, or should be, among the best of them. Now, I do not admire I\Ir. Wilherforce's speaking; it is nothing but a How of words — ' words, words alone.' B I doubt greatly if the English have any eloquence, properly so called; and am inclined to think that the Irish had a <:reat deal, and that the French will have, and have had in Ivlirabeau. Lord Chatham and Burke are the nearest approaches to orators ui England. I don't know what Erskine may have been at the bar; but in the House, I wish him at the bar once more. Lauderdale is shrill, and Scotch, and acute. ****** "But among all these, good, bad, and indifferent, I never heard the speech which was not loo long for the auditors, and not very intelligible, except here and (here The whole thing is a grand deception, and as tedious and tiresome as may be to those who must be often present I heard Sheridan only once, and that bnerlv, but I liked his voice, his manner, and his wit ; and he is the onlv one of them I ever wished to hear at greater length. " The impression of Parliament upon me was, that its members are not formidable as speakers, but very much so as an awlience ; because m so numerous a body there may bo liitle eloquence, (after all, there were but («>« thorough orators in all antiquity, and I suspect still fouxr in modern limes,) but there must be a leaven of thought and good sense sufficient to make tlieiu know what is right, though they can't express it nobly. "Home Tooke and Koscoe both are said to have declared that they left Parliament with a higher opinion of its aggregate integrity and abilities than that with which they entered it. The general amount of both id DETACHED THOUGHTS. 265 most Parliaments is probably about .he same, as a so the number of .peefter. and their talent. I except orator, of course, because thev are things of ages, and not of scp- SSor tr.enn.al reunions. Nei.her House ever struck me with more awe or respect .hat. .he same number of Turks in a divan, or of Methodists » a bar.™ done. Whatever diffidence or nervousness I fell land 1 felt bod, in a great degree) arose from the number rather than the quality of .he assemblage, and the ,1, ough a he of me pMk without .ban the persons „,l„n- .,,.,„, (as all know) .hat Cicero himself, and probably the M< *■ dah, could never have al.ered ,he vote of a s,n do ord of the bedchamber or bishop. I though, our House dull, but the other animating enough upon great days. "In society I have met Sheridan frequently : he was superb ! He had a sor. of liking for me, and never at- tacked me, a. leas, to my lace, and he dul every body el=e—hi«h names, and wits, and orators, some o ni poets also. I have seen him cut up \\ hi hi. ad, qua Madame de Stael, annihilate Colman, and do little less by some o.hers (whose names, as fr.ends, 1 set not down) of gold fame and ability. "The last ..me I met him was, I think, a, Sir Gilbert Elliot's, where he was as quick as ever— no, it was nol the las. time ; the last time was at Douglas Kinnairds. -I have met him in all places and parties— at White- hall with the Melbourne's, at the Marquis of Tavistock's, at RobinsVi me auctioneer's, a. Sir Humphrey Davys, a Sam Rogers's,-!,, short, in most kinds nl company, and alwavs found him very convivial and delig ituil. " I have seen Sheridan weep two or ihree times. It may he .hat he was maudlin; but this only renders u mo're impressive, for who would see • From MurltornwH'. eyes lb. «=«™ <•< a<**& Bow, And Swift expire ■ dnttlltr and a »ho« I' Once I saw him cry at Robins's the auctioneer's, afo 8 ,,lend.,l dinner, full of great names and high spirits. 1 had .he honour of sitting next to Sheridan. Ins OCCa- non of his .ears was some observation or other upon the V u i, r r, of the slurdiness of the Whigs in resisting office and keeping to their principles: Sheridan turned round: . ar „ is ,-asv for my Lord G. or Earl G. or Marquis B. or Lord 11. with thousands upon thousands a year, some of,, either pracntly derived, „, inhenUd rn smeeure or acquisitions (from the public , -y, to boast of *ar patriotism and ke.p aloof from temptation ; but tfiey do „„, know fro,,, what templalion those have kept aloof who had equal pride, a, least equal talents, and nol un- equal passions, and nevertheless knew not tn the course of their lives what it was to have a shilling of their own. And in savins this he wept. . I have m„re than once heard him say, ' that he never had a shilling of his own.' To be sure, he contrived to extract a good many of other people's. « In 1815, 1 had occasion to visit my lawyer in than cerv-lan.-: he was with Sheridan. After mutual greet- ini &C. Sheridan retired first. Before recurr,,,, to my nvn business, I could no, help inquiring that of Sheridan. i)h,' replied, he attorney, 'the usual dung! to stave ofl „„ action from his wine-merchant, my client — 'Wei sa.J 1 'and what do vol. mean to do ?'— ' Nothing a. all for the present,' said he: 'would you have us proceed a-ainst old Sherry ? what would be the use of it? and here he began laughing, and going over Sheridan s good mfts of conversation. -Now from personal experience, I can vouch that my attomev is by no means the tenderest of men, or par- ticularly accessible to any kind of impression out of the ..atute or record ; and ye, Shendan in half ar. hour, had found the way .0 soften and seduce him in such a manner ,hat I almost think he would have thrown his client (an honest man, with all the laws, and some justice, on He ude) out of the window, had he com. in at the moment. "Such was Sheridan! he could soften an attorney! There has been nodiing like it since the days of Orpheus. One day I saw him lake up Ins own 'Monody on Garrick.' He lighted upon the Dedication ,o the Dow- ager Ladv * *■ On seeing ,', he flew .mo a rage, and % imed, Hha> i, must be a forgery, .ha. he had never dedicated ai.v Hung of his to such a d-d canting, &c. Sec fcc —and so went on for ha.f an hour abusing his ov. o dedication, or a. leas, the object of it. If all writers were equally sincere, it would ba ludicrous. -Hetold me that, on .he night of the grand success ,.,- | , school foi Scandal, he was knocked down and put into the watchhouse for making a row in the stree., and bein« found intoxicated by the waichmen. « When dvinn, he was requested to undergo an opera „„n ' He replied, that he had already submitted to tut., wh.ch were enough for one man's lifetime. Being asked wh ai ,h,v were, he answered, 'having his hair cut, and sitting for his picture. 1 , "1 have met George Colman occasionally, and thought him extremely pleasant and convivial. Sh °^ J""" monr, or rather wit, was always saturnine, and sometime. savage; he never laughed, (at leas, that / saw, and I watched hnn,) but Colman did. If I had to choose and could not have both a, a time, I should say, ' Let mebegm the evening with Sheridan, and Blush .1 with Colman. Sheridan for dinner, Colman for supper ; Sheridan tor claret or port, but Colman for every thing, from the madeira and champaigne a. d.nner, the claret with a layer of port between the glasses, up to the punch of the :,.h,,and down,., the grog, or gin and water of day- break ;-all these I have threaded with both the .same. Sheridan was a grenadier company of life-guards, but Colman a whole reguneiit— of light infantry, to be sure, but still a regiment." * * * * * "Sheridan's liking for me (whether he was not mystify- in. me, I do not know, bu. Lady Caroline Lamb and others .id me that he said the same both before and after he knew me) was founded upon ' English Bards and Scotch Reviewers.' He .old me that he did not care about poetry, (or about mine-at leas,, any but that poem of mine,) but he was sure from that and other symptoms, 1 should make an ora.or, if I would bu, take to speaking and ™ w a parl.au, n: .nan. He never ceased harping upon this to me to the last; and I remember my old tutor, Dr. Drurv, had the same notion when I was a buy ; but .t never was rev turn of inclination to try. I spoke once or twice, as all young peers do, as a kind of mtro. ,,,„.„„„ mt0 public life ; but dtssij a'lon, shyness, haughty and reserved opinions, together with the short tune I lived ,n England after mv majority, (only about hve years in all) prevented mo from resuming the experiment As far as ., wen,, i, was not discouraging, particularly my &■* speech; (1 spoke three or four limes in al ,) but just after it, my poem ofCbflde Harold was published, and nohodv ever though, about my proas afterward,nor indeed d,d I ;' it became to me a secondary and neglecled object, though I someumes wonder to myself if I should havo succeeded ■ ■ When .he bailiff (for I havo seen most kinds of life) came upon me in 1815 to seize my chattels (be.ng a peer „f parliament, my person was beyond him,) being curious (asis mv hab,,,) I firs, asked him,' What extents e sewhero I J for government? upon which he showed me one upon one home only t • sen »,y th.^lpou^ Nextl asked him, if lie had nothing for Sheridan ? oh - &hen - dari '' said he ; ' ay, I have this,' (pulling out a pocket-book, T-) ^bui,mvlord,I have been in Sheridan's house a rwelvemomh a. a .,me-a civil gentleman-knows how to deal will, us; &c. &c fcr. Our own business was .her. I discussed, which was none of the easiest for me at that m l But the man was civil, and (what I valued mora) 266 DETACHED THOUGHTS. communicative. I had met many of his brethren, years before, in atfairs of my friends, (commoners, that is,) but this was the first (or second) on my own account. A civil man ; feed accordingly : probably he anticipated as much." B I have hoard that when Grattan made his first speech in ihe English Commons, it was tor sum-- minutes doubt- ful whether to laugh at or cheer him. The debut of his predecessor Flood had been a complete failure im.l. -i nearly similar circumstances. But when the ministerial part of our senators had watched Pit! (their thermome- ter) fur the cue, and saw him nod repeatedly Ins Stalely nod of approbation, they took the bint from their hunts- man, and broke out into the most rapturous cheers. Graltan's speech, indeed, deserved them ; it was a chrj- (Fcruvre. I did not hear that speech of Ins, (being then at Harrow,) but heard most of his others on the same question — also that on the war of 1815. I differed from his opinions on die latter question, but coincided in the general admiration of his eloquence. "When I met old Courtenay, the orator, at Rogers the poet's, in 1811-12, I was much taken with the portly remains of his fine figure, and the still acute quickness of his conversation. It was he who silenced Flood in the English House by a crushing reply to a hasty tMb&t of the rival of Grattan in Ireland. I asked Courtenay (for I like to trace motives) if he had not some personal pro- vocation ; for the acrimony of his answer seemed to me, as I had read it, to involve it. Courtenay said k he had ; that, when in Ireland, (being an Irishman,) at the bar of the Irish House of Commons, Flood had made a personal and unfair attack upon himself, who, not being a member of that House, could not defend himself, and that some years afterward] the opportunity of retort offering in the English Parliament, he could not resist it. lie certainly repaid Flood with interest, for Flood never made any figure, and only a speech or two afterward, in the English House of Commons. I must except, however, his speech on Reform in 1790, which Fox called 'the beal In- ever heard upon that subject. 1 ■ ****** B Iwas much struck with the simplicity of Grat tan's manners in private life: they were odd, but they were natural. Curran used to take him orF, bowing to the very ground, and 'thanking God thtit he had no pecu- liarities of gesture or appearance, 1 in a way irresistibly ludicrous and * * used to call him a * sentimental harle- quin.' tion, was Scrope Bcrdmore Davies. Hobhouse is also pery good ID that line, though it is of less consequence to a man who lias other ways of showing his talents than in company. Scrope was always ready and often witty — Hobhouse as witty, but not always so ready, being mora diffident. 8 " Lewis is a good man, rhymes well, (if not wisely.) but is a bore. He seizes you by the button. One night of a rout, at Mrs. Hope's, he had fastened upon me, not- wr&slanding my symptoms of manifest distress (for I was in love, and had just nicked a mmute when neither mothers, nor husbands, nor rivals, nor gossips, were near inv then idol, who was beautiful as the statues of the gallery where we stood at the time) — Lewis, I say, had seized upon me by the button and the heart-strings, and pared neither. W. Spencer, who likes fun, and do n't dislike mischief) saw my case, anti coming up to us both, took me by the hand, and pathetically bade me farewell ' (or, 1 saiil be, ' I see it is all over with you.' Lewis then went away. Sic me servant Apollo. u I remember seeing Bluchsr in the London assemblies, and never saw any dung of his age less venerable. With the voice and manners of a recruiting sergeant, he pre- tended to the honours of a hero, — just as if a slone could be worshipped because a man had stumbled over it." "Curran! Curran 's the man who struck me most. Such imagination! there never was any thing 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, (foe he used to call on me,) and in society, at MacJontoeh's, Holland House, &c. &c. and he was wonderful even to me, who had seen many re- markable men of the time. ****** "The powers of Curran's Irish imagination were ex- hanstless. I have heard that man speak more poetry than I have ever seen written, — though I met hun seldom and but occasionally. I saw him presented to Madame de Stacl at Mackintosh's-, — it was the grand confluence be- tween the Rhone and the Saone, and they were both so d — d ugly, that I could not help wondering how the best intellects of France and Ireland could have taken up respectively such residences." * * * * • One of the cleverest men I »ver knew, in conversa- " "When I met Hudson Lowe, the jailer, at Lord Hol- land's before he sailed for St. Helena, the discourse turned on the battle of Waterloo. I asked him whethei the dispositions of Napoleon were those of a great gene- ral? He answered, disparagingly, ' that they were very sii/ijilrS I had always thought dial a degree of simplicity was an ingredient of greatness. ****** v L * * was a good man, a clever man, but a bore. My only revenge or consolation used to be, setting him by die ears with some vivacious person who hated bores especially, — Madame de S — or H — , for example. But I liked L * * ; he was a jewel of a man, had he been better set; — I don't mean personalty, but less tveanmi, for he was tedious, as well as contradictory to every thing and every body. Being shortsighted, when we used to ride out together near the Brenta in the twilight in sum- mer, he made me go before, to pilot hun : I am absent at tun -s, especially towards evening; and the consequence of this pilotage was some narrow escapes to the M * * on hwrseback. 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 mowabU bridge which incommodes passengers ; and twice did we both run sgainstthe Diligence, which, being heavy and slow, did communicate less damage than it received in its leaders, who were terruned by the charge ; thrice did I lose him in die gray of the gloaming, and was obGged to bring-to to his distant signals of distance and distress ; — all the time he went un talking without intermission, for he was a man of many words. Poor fellow! he died a martyr to his new riches — of a second vu.it to Jamaica. ' I '(I ci»e the I.'tmti of Dcloraint Dork Mitigrur c were &h*e again 1 that 1 old gtri many a supnr can* k Lewit were ali»e og«iii I" "Madame de Stael was a good woman at heart and the cleverest at bottom, but spoiled by a wish to be — she knew not what. In her own house she was amiable ; in any other person's, you wished her gone, and in her own again." ****** * 1 liked the Dandies ; they were alwtya very civil to DETACHED THOUGHTS 267 me, though in general they disliked literary people, and persecuted and mystified Madame de Stael, Lewis, * * * *, and the like, damnably. They persuaded Madame de Stael that A * * had a hundred thousand a year, &c &c. till she praised him to his face for his beauty! and made a set at him for * *, and a hundred fooleries be- sides. The truth is, that, though I gave up the business early, I had a tinge of dandyism in my minority, and pro- bably retained enough of it to conciliate the great ones at 6ve-and-iwenrv. I had gamed, and drank, and taken my degrees m most dissipations, and having no pedant rv, and not being overhearing, we ran quietly together. I knew them all more or ltss, and they made me a member of Watier's, (a superb club at that time,) being, I take it, the only literary man (except two otJiers, botli men of the world, Moore and Spenser) in it. Our masquerade was a grand one ; so was die dandy ball too, at the Argyle, but that (the latter) was given by the four chiefs, B., M., A., and P., if I err not. w I was a member of the Alfred, loo, being elected while in Greece. It was pleasant ; a little too sober and li erary, and bored with * * and Sir Francis Dlvernois; but one met Peel v and Ward, and Valenua, and many other pleasant or known people ; and it was, upon the whole, a decent resource in a rainy day, in a dearth of parties, or parliament, or in an empty season. "I belonged, or belong, to the following clubs or socie- ties : — to the Alfred ; to die Cocoa Tree ; to Watier's ; to the Union; to Racket's, (at Brighton;) to the Pugi- Ustic; to the Owls, or ' Fly-by-night ;' to the Cambridge Whig Club; to die Harrow Club, Cambridge; and to one or two private Clubs; to the Hampden (political) Club; and to the Italian Carbonari, &c. &.C. &c. 'though last, not least? I got into all these, and never stood for any other — at least to my own knowledge. I declined bsing proposeU to several others, though pressed to stand candidate." * * * * (commonly called long * * *, a very clever man, but odd) complained to our friend Scrope B. Davies, in ruling, that he had a stitch in his side. 'I don't won- der at it,' said Scrope, ' for you ride like a tailor? Whoever had seen * * * on horseback, with his very tall figure on a small nag, would not deny the justness of the repartee. "When Brummell was obliged (by that afFair of poor M * *, who thence acquired the name of 'Dick the Dandv-killf-r" — it was about money, and debt, and all that) to retire to France, he knew no French, and having obtained a irrammar for the purpose of study, our friend Scrope Davies was asked what progress Brummell had made in French, he responded, l that Brummell had been stopped, like Buonaparte in Russia, by the Elements? u I have put this pun into Beppo, which is 'a fair ex- change and no robbery,' for Scrope made his fortune at several dinners (as he owned himself) by repeating occasionally, as his own, some of the buffooneries with winch I had encountered"him in the morning." a I have been called in as mediator, or second, at least twenty times, in violent quarrels, and have alwavs con- trived to settle the business without compromising the honour of the parties, or leading them to mortal conse- quences, and this too sometimes u*. very difficult and delicate circumstances, and having to deal with very hot and haughty spirits, — Irishmen, gamesters, guardsmen, captains, and cornets of horse, and the like. This was, of course, in my youth, when I lived in hot-headed com- pany. I have had to carry challenges from gentlemen to noblemen, from captains to captains, from lawyers to counsellors, and once from a clergyman to an officer in the life-guards ; but I found the latter by far the most difficult, ' to compose The bloody duel without blows, ' the business being about a woman: I must add too, that I never saw a woman behave so ill, like a cold-blooded, heartless b — as she was, — but very handsome, for all that. A certain Susan C * * was she called. I never saw her but once ; and that was to induce her but to say two words, (which in no degree compromised herself,) and which would have had the effect of saving a priest or a lieutenant of cavalry. She would not say them, and neither N * * nor myself (the son of Sir E. N * +, and a friend to one of the parties) could prevail upon her to say them, though both of us used to deal m some sort with woman-kind. At last I managed to quiet the com- batants without her talisman, and, I believe, to her great disappointment: she'was the damnedest b— that I ever saw, and I have seen a great many. Though my clergy- man was sure to lose either his life or his living, he was as warlike as the Bishop of Beauvais, and would hardly be pacified ; but then he was in love, and that is a martial passion." ***** 4= tt Like Sylla, I have always believed that all things depend upen fortune, and nothing upon ourselves. I am not aware of any one thought or action worthy of being called good to myself or others, which is not to be attn buted to the good goddess Fortune." ****** " If I were to live over again, I do not know what I would change in my life, unless it were for — not to have lived at all. All history, and experience, and the rest, teaches us that the good and evil are pretty equally halanced in this existence, and that what is most to be desired is an easy passage out of it. What can it give us but years? and those have htUe of good but their ending. ****** "The world visits change of politics or change of religion wiih a more severe censure than a mere diffe- rence of opinion would appear to me to deserve. But there must be some reason for this feeling ; — and I think it is that these departures from the earliest instilled ideas of our cliildhood, and from the line of conduct chosen by us whttn we first enter into public life, have been seen to have more mischievous results for society, and to prove more weakness of mind than other actions, in themselves more immoral." Of the bast of himself by Bartollini : — * The bust does not turn out a good one, — though it may be like for aught I know, as it exactly resembles a superannuated Jesuit." Again, ■ I assure you BartolUni's is dreadful, though my mind misgives me that it is hideously like. If it is, I cannot be long for this world, for it overlooks seventy." 'As far as fame goes (that is to say, living fame,) I have had my share, perhaps — indeed, certainly — more than my deserts. u Some odd instances have occurred, to my own experi- ence, of the wild and strange places to which a name may penetrate, and where it may impress. Two years ago, (almost three, being in August or July, 1819,) I re- ceived at Ravenna a letter, in English verse, from Uron- thexm in Norway, written by a Norwegian, and full of the usual compliments, &c. &c. It is still somewhere among my papers. In the same month I received an invitation into Holstein from a Mr. Jacobsen (I think) of Ham- burgh : also, by the same medium, a translation of Me- dora's song in the Corsair by a Westphahan baroness, (not ' Thunderton-Tronck,') with some original verses of hers, (very pretty and Klopstock-ish,) and a prose transla- t mi annexed to thorn, on the ruibjac of my wife: — as 26S DETACHED THOUGHTS. [hey concerned her mora than me, I sent ihem to her, together with Mr. Jacobsen's letter. It was odd enough to receive an invitation to pass the summer in Haitian while in Italy, from | pie I never knew. The letter was addmsed to Venire. Mr. Jacohscn talke.l to the of the 'wild roses' growing in the Holstein Bummer. 1 Why then did the Cimbri and Teutones emigrate? "Wh.iia strange thing is life and man! Were (to present myself at the door of the boose where my daugb- n now is, the door would be shut in my face— unless (as is not unpossible) I knocked down the porter; and if I nilrl I in that year (and perhaps now) loJJrontheim, (the Airthesl town in Norway,) ..r into Hols I rinuld have been received with open arms into the mansion of alrangers and foreigners, attached to me by no lie but bv that of mind and ru ir. " As far as fame gees, I have had my share : it has indeed been leavened by other human contingencies, and this in a greater degree than has occurred to most literary men of a decent rank in life ; but, on the whole, I lake it that such equipoise is ihe condition of humanity." •Among the various Journals, Memoranda, Diaries, &c. which I have kept in the course of my living, I began one about three months ago, and carried it on till I had filled one paper-book, (ilnuinsh.) and two sheets or so of another. I then left off, partly because I thought we should have some business here, and I had furbished up my arms and got my apparatus ready for taking a turn will, the patriots, having my drawers loll of their procla- mations, oaths, and resolutions, and mv lower rooms of their bidden weapons, of moal calibers,— and partly because I had filled my paper-book. "But the Neapolitans have betrayed themselves and all the world; and those who would haw given their blood for Italy can now only give her their lean. "Some day or other, if dust holds together, I have been enough in the secret (at least in this part of the c ntry) to cast perhaps some little light upon the atrocious treachery which has replugged Italy into barbarism: at /resent I have neither the time nor the temper. How- ever, the real Italians are not to blame ; merely the scoun- drels at the heel of the boot, which the llun now wears, and • ill trample them to ashes with lor their servility. I have risked myself with th hers /an, and how far' I may or ■nay not be compromised is a problem at this moment Some of them, like Craigengelt, would 'tell all, and more than aU, to save themselves.' But, come what may, the -;auso was a glorious one, though it reads at present" as if Che Greeks had run away ft >m Xerxes. Happy the few "■ho have only to reproach themselves with beliei ing that these rascals were less 'rascaille' than they proved!— Hire m Romagna, the efforts were necessarily limited to preparations a,^ g„ d intentions, until the Germans were fairly engaged in eqval warfare— as «e are upon their very frontiers, without a single fori „ r bill nearer than San Marino. Whether 'hell will he paved wiuYthos ' I intentions, 1 know not ; l,„, ,|„.„. w ill probably be a good store of Neapolitans to walk upon the pavement, whatever may be its composition. Slabs of lava from their moun- tain, with the bodies of their own darnned souls for cement, would be the fittest causeway for Satan's ' Corso.'" between ihe present time and the days of Harrow. It was a new and inexplicable feeling, like rising from the grave to me. Clare ohj was much agitated — more in ayptar- anr.e than was myself; for I could feel his heart beat to his lingers' ends, unless, indeed, it was the pulse of my men which made me ihuik so. He told me that I should find a note from him left at Bologna. I did. We were obligl d to part for our different journeys, he for Koine, I for I'la, hut with the promise to meet again in spring. We were but five minutes together, and on the public road; but I hardly recoiled an hour of my existence which could be weighed against Ihem. He had heard thai I was coming on, and had lefl his Idler for rue at Bologna, because ihe I p'e with wbom he was travelling could not wail longer. "Ofalllhave ever known, he has always been Ihe least alti ri d in every thing from theexcellenl qualities and kmd affections which attached me to him so strongly al school I should hardly have thought it possible for society (or ihe world, as it is called) to leave a being with so little of ihe leaven of bad \ assions. 'I do not speak from personal experience only, but from all I have ever heard of him from others, during uo- sence and distance." ****** " I revisited the Florence Gallery, &c. My former im- pel si. us were confirmed; but there were too many visiters there to allow one to feel anv thing properly. \\h.„ we were (abonl thirty or forty) all stuffed into the cabinet of gems anil knick-knackeries, in a corner of one of ihe galleries, I told Rogers thai it 'fell like being in die watchhouse ' 1 lefl him to make his obeisances to some of Ins acquaintances, and strolled on alone — the only four minutes I could snatch of any feeling for the works around me. [do not mean to apply this to a tete-a-toic scrutiny with Rogers, who has an excellent teste, and deep frehnu lor the arts, (indeed much more of bolh than I con pos- sess, lor of Ihe roHMEK I have not much,) but to lite crowd ofjostling slarers and travelling lalkers around me. "I heard one bold Briton declare to the woman on Ins arm, looking at the Venus of Tilian, ' Well, now, llus is really very fine indeed,'— an observation which, tike that of ihe landlord in Joseph Andrews on 'the certainly of lealh,' was (as the landlord's wife observed) 'extremely rue. 1 ' * "In the Piiti Palace, I did not omit Goldsmith's pre- scripti i, for a connoisseur, viz. ' that the pictures would have been belter if the painter had taken more pains, and lo praise the works of IVtro Perugino." ****** " People have wondered at the melancholy which rens through my writings. Others have wondered ai mi i ar- sons! gayety. Bui I recollect once, after an hour in which 1 bad bt en sincerely and particularly gay and rather bnl- hani, in company, my wife replying lo roe, when I said, (upon her remarking my high spirits,) 'And yet, BelL I hale been called and miscalled melancholy— yot 1st have seen I"-" falsely, frequently'.'' 'No, Byron,' she snswered, ' it is not so: at heart, you are the most melan- choly of mankind ; and often when apparently gayest.' " "Pisa. November 5, 1821. "Thercisastranje coincidence sometimes in the little dungs of this world, Sancho, 1 says Sterne in a letter, (if 1 mistake not,) and so I have often found u. " In Page [ 261, ] of this collection, I had alluded to my friend Lord Clare in terms sucll as mv fbelin peso, |. About a week or two afterward, I met luni he road holwoen Imola and Bologna, after not having met for leven or eqjhl years. He "as abroad in 1814, tuid came home pist as I set out in 1816. " This ninenng annihilated for a moment all the year. A young American,* named Cc.olidge, called on me not many months ago. He was intelligent, very hand- some, and not more than twenty years old, according to appearances; a linlc romantic, but that aits well upon youth, ami mighty loud of poesy, as max be suspected from Ins approaching me in my cavern. He brought me a message from an old servant of mv family, (J,,e Murray,) and told me that he (Mr. Coolidge') had obtained a copy ol my bust from Thorwaldsen al Rome, to send to Ame- rica. I confess I was more flattered by this young enthu- siasm of a solitary transatlantic traveller, Ibaii if they bad decreed me a statue in the Paris Pantheon, (1 have seen *8|| LiUfr 501. DETACHED THOUGHTS. 269 «mperors anil demagogues cast down from their pedestals even m my own time, and Grattan's name razed from the street, called after him in Duhlui;) I say that I was more flattered bv it, because it was single, unpolitical, and was without motive or ostentation, — the pure and warm feeliug of a boy for the poet he admired. It must have been ex- pensive, though j — /"would not pay die price of a Thor- waldseri bust tor any human head and shoulders, except Napoleon's, or my cluldren's, or some i abftwd woman- kitufs^ as Moukbarns calls them— or my sister's. If asked why, then, I sat for my own ? — Answer, ihat it was at the particular request of J. C. Hobhouse, "Esq. and for no one else. A picture is a different matter ; — every body sits for their picture; but a bust looks like putting up pretensions to permanency, and smacks something of a hankering for public fame rather than private remembrance. " Whenever an American requests to see me, (which is not unfre-jueutly,) I comply, firstly, because I respect a people who acquired their freedom by their firmness with- out excess; and, secondly, because these transatlantic visits, 'few and far between,' make me feel as if talking with posterity from the other side of the Styx. In a cen- tury or two the new English and Spanish Atlan'ides will be masters of the old countries, in all probability, as Greece and Europe overcame their mother Asia in the older or earlier ages, as they are called." + * * * * * After saying, in reference to his own choice of Venice as a place of residence, " I remembered General Ludlow's domal inscription] ' Omne solum ford patria,' and sal down free in a country which had been one of slavery for centu- ries," he adds, " But there is no freedom, even for mastery in the midst of slaves. It makes my blood boil to see the thin^. I sometimes wish that I was the owner of Africa, to do at once what Wilberforce will do in time, viz, sweep slavery from her deserts, and look on upon the first dance of their freedom. "As to political slavery, so genera!, it is men's own fault: if they will he slaves, let them! Yet it is but 'a word and a blow.' See how England formerly, France, Spain, Por- tugal, America, Switzerland, freed themselves! There is no one instance of a long contest in which men did not tri- umph over systems. If Tyranny misses her Jirst spring, she is cowardly as the tiger, and retires to be hunted." * * * * * * "Going to the fountain of Delphi (Castri) in 1809, I saw a Bight <>t twelve eagles (H. says they were vultures — at leas', in conversation,) and I seized the omen. On the day before, I composed the lines to Parnassus, (in Childe Harold,) and, on beholding the birds, had a hope that Apollo had accepted my homage. I have at least had the name and fame of a poet during the poetical part of life, (from twenty to thirty ;) — whether it will last is another matter.' ***** * "In the year 1814, as Moore and I were going to dine widi Lord Grey in Porlman-sqtiare, I pulled out a ' Java Gazette,' (which Murray had sent to me,) in which there was a controversy on our respective merits as poets. It was amusin° enough that we should be proceeding peace- ably to the same table, while they were squabbling about us in the Indian seas, (to be sure, the paper was dated six months before,) and tilling columns with Batavian criti- cism. But tins is fame, I presume."* "One of my notions different from those of my contem- poraries is, that the present is not a high age of English poetry. There are more poets (soi-disant) than ever there were, and proportionably less poetry. This thesis I have maintained for some years, but, strange to say, it meeteth not with favour from my brethren of the slielf. Even Moore shakes his head and firmly believes that this is the grand age of British poesy." "Of the immortality of the soul, it appears to me that there can be little doubt, if we attend for a moment to the action of mind : it is in perpetual activity. I used to doubt of it, but reflection has taught me better. It acts also so very independent of body — in dreams, for instance; — in- coherently and madly, I grant you, but still it is mind, and much more mind than when we are awake. Now that this should not act srpuratdy, as well as jointly, who can pronounce ■ The stoics, Epicletusand Marcus Aurelius, call the present slate l a soul which drags a carcass,'— a heavy chain to be sure, hut all chains being materie' may be shaken off. How far our future life will bf ijufr xiduaL, or, rather, how far it will at all resemble our prtsen. existence, is another question ; but that the mind is eternal seems as probable as that the body is not so. Of course, I here venture upon the question without recurring to reve- lation, which, however, is at least as rational a solution of it as any other. A material resurrection seems strange and even absurd, except for purposes of punishment ; and all punishment winch is to revenge rather than correct must be morally wrong; and when the world is at an end, what moral or warning purpose can eternal tortures answer? Human passions have probably disfigured the divine doc- trines here: — but the whole thing is inscrutable." " It is useless to tell me not to reason-, but to believe. You might as well tell a man not to wake, but sleep. And then to bully with torments, and all that! I cannot help think- ing that the menace of hell makes as many devils as the severe penal codes o( inhuman humanity make villains." "Man is born passionate of body, but with an innate though secret tendency to the love of good in his main- spring of mind. But, God help us all! it is at present a sad jar of atoms." " Matter is eternal, always changing, but reproduced, and, as far as we can comprehend eternity, eternal; and why not mind/ Why should not the mind act with and upon the universe, as portions of it act upon and with ihe congregated dust called mankind? See how one man acts upon himself and others, or upon multitudes! The same agency, in a higher and purer (Wree, may act upon the stars, &c. ad infinitum. 11 * 8«a Journal ia Idlj. "I have often been inclined to materialism in philosophy, but could never bear its introduction into Christianity, which appears to me essentially founded upon the soul. For this reason, Priestley's Christian Materialism always struck me as deadly. Believe the resurrection of ihe body^ if you will, but not without a soul. The deuce is in it, it* af'er having had a soul (as surely the mina\ or whatever you call it is) in this world, we must part with it in the next, even for an immortal materiality ! I own my par- tiality for spud." " I am always most religious upon a sunshiny Hay, as if there was some association between an internal approach to greater light aud purity, and the kindler of this dark lantern of our external existence. 11 "The night is also a religious concern, and even more so when I viewed the moon and stars through Herschell 1 * telescope, and saw that ihey were worlds." tl If* according to some speculations, you could prove the world many thousand years older than the Mosaic chro- nology, or if you could get rid of Adam and Eve, and the apple, and serpent, still, what is to be put up in their stead ? or how is die difficulty removed ? Things must have had a beginning, and what matters il when or how? 9 270 DETACHED THOUGHTS. 11 1 sometimes think thai man may be the relic of some higher material being wrecked in a former world, and de- generated ni the hard-hip and struggle through chaos into c< inform it v, or something like it, — as we see Laplanders, Esquimaux, &c. inferior in ihe present state, as the ele- ments become more inexorable. But even then this higher pre-Adamite supposititious creation must have had an origin and a Creator, — for a creation is a more natural imagination than a fortuitous concourse of atoms; all things remount to a fountain, though they may Bow lo an ocean. 11 Plutarch says, in his Life of Lysander, trial Aristo- tle observes ' that in general great geniuses are of a melancholy turn, and insiances Socrates, Plato, and Her- cules, (or Heraclitus,) as examples; and Lysuider, though not while young, yet as inclined to it when ap- proaching towards age. 1 Whether I am a genius or not, I have been called such by my friends as well as enemies, and in more countries and languages than one, and also wilhid a no very long period of existence. Of my genius I can say nothing, but of my melancholy, that ii is ' increasing and ought to be diminished.' Bui how ? " I take it that most men are so at botiom, but (hat it is only remarked in the remarkable. The Duchesse de Broglio, in reply to a remark of mine on the errors of clever people, said that 'they were not worse than others, only, being more in view, more noted, especially in all that could reduce them to the rest, or raise the rest to them. 1 In 1816 this was. " In fact, (I suppose that) if the follies of fools were all set down like those of the wise, the wise (who seem at present only a better sort of fools) would appea: almost intelligent." *' It is singular how soon we lose the impression of what ceases to be constantly before us: a year impairs ; a lustre obliterates. There is little distinct left without an effort of memory. Then, indeed, the lights aie re- kindled for a moment ; but who can besure^hat imagi- nation is not the torclibearer 7 Let any man try at ihe end of ten years to bring before him the features, or tin- mind, or the sayings, or the habits of his best friend, or his greatest man, (l mean his favourite, his Buonaparte, his this, that, or t'other.) and lie will be surprised at the extreme confusion of his ideas. I speak confidently on this point, having always passed for one who had a good, ay, an excellent memory. 1 except, indeed, our recol- lection of womankind; there is no forgetting them (and be d — d to them) any more than any other remarkable era, such as 'the revolution,' or 'the plague,' or 'the invasion,' or ' the comet,' or ' the war' of such and such an epoch, — being the favourite dates of mankind, who have so many blessings in their lot, that they never make their calendars from them, being too common. For in- stance, you see, ' the great drought,* ' the Thames fro- zen over,' 'the seven years' war broke out,' the ' Eng- lish, or French, or Spanish revolution commenced,' * the Lisbon earthquake/ ' the Lima earthquake,' ' the oarth- quake ofCalabna,' ' the plague of London,' ditto ' of Constantinople,' 'the sweating sitikness,' 'the velUw fever ol Htnlad. lphia.' lie. &i . a.--. , bui you don't see • il.e 1 abundant harvest,' 'the tine sotumer, 1 ' the long peace,' 'the neaithy speculation,' 'the reckless voyage,' re- corded so emphatically! B\ tl.e-«av, ihere baa been a thirty years' war and a sevcity years' tear ; was there ever a Seventy or a thirty yt Scott and Moore, &c. ; or vistornnes out of it, such is Shelley , &c : but your literary everv-dav man and I never went well in company, especially your foreigner, whom 1 never could abide; excepiGiordani, ami — and — and — (I reall) can't name any oilier) — I don't remember a man am el»es ur s ifely muM be sought. That by our own ngbl-hunds it must be wrought ; That we must stand unprop'd, or be laid low. O dastard t whom such foretaste rtotb not cltccrl We lb*]] ex. ill, if they who role the land lie men who hold ill ru.ii.y blessings dear, ■Wise, upright, valiant, oot a renal band, Who are to Judge of danger which they fear, And honour which they do not understand." The song at the Feast of Brougham Castle, the Se- ven Sisters, the Affliction of Margaret of , posses-s all the beauties, and few of the defects, of this writer : the following lines from the last are in his first style : — " Ah! little doth tbe ratine one dream When full of play and childish cares, What power hath e'en his wddest scream. Heard by bis mother unaware* : He knows it not, be cannot guess : Years to a mother bring distress, But do not make ber love tbe less." * I have been a reviewer. In 1807, in a Magazine called " Monthly Literary Recreations," 1 reviewed Wordsworth's trash of that time. In the Monthly Review I wrote some articles which wera inserted. This was in the latter pan of 1811. The pieces least worthy of the author are those enti- tled "Moods of my own Mind." We certainly wish these " Moods" bad been less frequent, or not permitted to occupy a place near works which only make their deformity more obvious ; wlten Mr. W. ceases to please, it is by " abandoning" his mind to the most common- place ideas, at the same time clothing them in language not simple, but puerile. What will any reader or auditor, out of the nursery, say to such namby-pamby as " Lines written at the Foot of Brothers Bridge? " The cock is crowing, The stream is flowing. The small birds twitter, The take doth glitter. The green field sleeps in the sun ; The oldest »nd youngest. Are at work with the ctrongest ; T he cattle are grazing, Their heads never raising, There are forty feeding like one. Like an army defeated, The snow hath retreated, And now doth fare ill, On the top uf the bare hill." " The plough-boy is whooping anon, anon," &c. &c. is in the same exquisite measure. This appears to ua neither more nor less than an imitation of such min- strelsy as soothed our cries in the cradle, with the shriU ditty of " Hey de diddle The cat and the fiddle: The cow Jump'd over the moon, The little dog laugh'd to see such sport, And the dish ran away with the spoon." On the whole, however, with the exception of the above, and other innocent odes of the same cast, we think these volumes display a genius worthy of higher pursuits, and regret that Mr. W. confines his muse to such trifling subjects. We trust his motto will be in future, " Paulo majora canamus." Many, with inferior abilities, have acquired a loftier seat on Parnassus, merely by attempting strains in which Mr. Wordsworth is more qualified to excel. REVIEW OF GELL'S GEOGRAPHY OF ITHACA, AND ITINERARY OF GREECE. (FROM THE "MONTHLY REVIEW" FOR AUGUST, JS1J.) That laudable curiosity concerning the remains of classical antiquity which has of late years increased among our countrymen, is in no traveller or author more conspicuous than in Mr. Gell. Whatever differ- ence of opinion may yet exist with regard to the success of the several disputants in the famous Trojan contro- versy,* or, indeed, relating to tho present author's merits as an inspector of the Troad, it must universally * We have it from the best authority that the venerable leader of the Anti-Homeric sect, Jucub Bryant, several years before his death, ex- pressed regret for ^i< ungrateful attempt to destroy some of the most pletein* association! of our youthful studies. On* of hi* last wishes as* — '' Tiojaqut tiune ilarti." -,c. be acknowledged that any work, which more forcibly impresses on our imaginations the scenes of heroic ac- tion, and the subjects of immortal song, possesses claims on the attention of every scholar. Of the two works which now demand our report, we conceive the former to be by far the mest interesting to the reader, as the latter is indisputably ihe most ser- viceable to the traveller. Excepting, indeed, the run- ning commentary which it contains on a number of exiracts from Pausanias and Strabo, it is, as the title imports, a mere itinerary of Greece, or rather of Argo- lis only, in its present circumstances. This being the case, surely it would have answered every purpose of 272 REVIEW OF GELL'S GEOGRAPHY OF ITHACA. utilily much better by being printed as a pocket road- j the Roman emperors. They hare the head nf Ulysses r pointed rap, while the re I k, the emblem of .^..™ ™.kcn. a few uf these drawing?, we shall be told, would not permit such an medals are preferred in the cabinet- of the curious, and nii i \ mill ii ucticr ov uemg prinicu as a poCKd roatl- i"* 1 "vihiii ciiijiemia. m. urjr iiitt i book of that part of (he Morea; for a quarto is a very rec "? ni e,) L, 7 the P'leum, or pointed . i . I.- r,., * v verse oi one presents the hgrre of a < unmanageable travelling companion. The maps* *nd h ia vigilance, with the legend leaKi arrangement: but as lo the drawings, they are not in general to be admired as specimens of the art ; and several of them, as we have been assured by eye-wit- nesses of the scenes which they describe, do not com- pensate for their mediocrity in point of execution, by any extraordinary fidelity of representation. Others, indeed, arc more faithful, according to our informants. The true reason, however, for this cosdy mode of publi- cation is m course to be found in a desire of gratifying the public passion for large margins, and all the luxury of typography ; and we have before expressed our dis- satisfaction with Mr. Gell's aristorratical mode of com- municalinga species of knowledge which ought to be accessible to a much greater portion of classical students than can at present acquire it by his means : — but, as such expostulations are generally useless, we shall be thankful for what we can obtain, and that in the manner in which Mr. Gell has chosen to present it. The former of these volumes, we have observed, is the most attractive in the closet. It comprehends a very full survey of the far-famed island which the hero of the Odyssey lias immortalized; for we really are in- clined to think that the author has established the iden- tity of the modern Theaki with the Ithaca of Homer. At all events, if it be an illusion, it is a very agreeable deception, and is effected by an ingenious interpretation of the passages in Homer that are supposed to be de- scriptive of the scenes which our traveller has visited. We shall extract some of these adaptations of ihe an- cient picture to the modern scene, marking the points of resemblance which appear to be strained and forced, as well as those which are more easy and natural: but we must first insert some preliminary matter from the open- ing chapter. The following passage conveys a sort of general sketch of the book, which may give our readers a tolerably adequate notion of its contents: — " The present work may adduce, by a simple and cor- rect survey of the inland, coincidences in lis geography, in its natural product! ins, and moral statu, before unno- ticed. Some will he directly pointed out ; the fancy or in- genuity of the reader may be employed in tracing others : the mind familiar with the imagery of the Odyssey will i uise with satisfaction the scenes themselves; and this volume is offered to the public, not entirely without hopes of vindicating the poem ol Homer from the scepti- cism of those cruics who imagine th.it the Odyssey is a mere poetical composition, unsupported t>y history, and unconnected with the localities of any particular situation. •• Some have asserted that, in the comparison of places now existing with the descriptions of Homer, we ought not I i expeci c incidence in minute details ; yet it seeme 01 ly by these that the kingdom ol Ulysses, or any other, can be identified, a', if such an Ilea be admitted, every small and rocky island in the Ionian Sea, containing a good port, might, with equal plausibility, assume the appellation of Ithaca. " The Venetian geographers have in a great degree con- tributed to raise those doubts which have existed on the identity of the modern with the ancient Ithaca, by giving, in their charts, the name of Val di Compare to the island. I'n ii ii.iiim- m, Iko\ i", ei , [ tallv nn known in tin country, where the isle is invariably called Ithaca by the upper ranks, and Theaki by the vulgar. The Venetians have equally corrupted the name of almost every place ii, < in-rce ; yet, as the n itives uf Epactos or Naupactos never heard of Lepanto, those ofZacynthoi of Zante, or the Athenians of 9ettioes, it would be as unfair to rob Ithaca of its name, on such authority, as It would he 10 ast-eu that mi such island existed, because no tolet able represen- tation of us form can be found in the Vem tlan sun eys. "The r;ire medals of the island, of whirh three are represented in the [ille-page, might be adduced as a proof thai the name of Ithaca was not lost during the reigns of * Or, rsvlher, Map ; for we havr only on* In Ih? Tolump, am) that n on loo small a leide lo Rive morr than ■ prnrral irtra of ihp n-lu ti*r poti- lion of platei. The exciae about a larger miip not fiAUug wall it trifling i >c«, for iiulAnw. the aullior'a own map of llhaca. one 'ii- 1 >, w nii the cockj fot nd in the i- land, is in the pos* passion i f Signor Sfisvo, of Bathi. The upperum-i com ii in the collection of Dr. Hui ter ; the second ii copied from Newman, and the third is the property of R. P. Knight, Esq. ■* Several inscriptions, which will be hereaf er produced, wi 1 tend i" itie confirmation of the idea thai Unjica wai inhabited about Hie time when the Romans were me ten i I Grei ce ; yet there is every reason to believe ih. t lew, if any, of the present propi letora ol ibe soil an- descended from ancestors who had long resided success vely m the island. Even those who lived at the lime of Ulysses, in Mem to hare hern on the point of emigrating to Argos, and no i blel remained, after the second in descent from thai hem, worthy of being recorded in history, it ai pears that the isle has been twice colonised from Cepha 1 ana in modem times, and I was ml" rmed that a grant had h en made by the Vent ii ins, entitling each settler in Ithaca to as m :ch land as hb circumstances would enable him to cultivate.*' Mr. Gell then proceeds to invalidate the authority of previous writers on the subject of Iihaca. Sir Georgo Wheeler and M. le Chevalier fall under his severo animadversion; and, indeed, according to his account, neither of these gentleman had visited the island, and the description of the latter is "absolutely too absurd for refutation.*' In another place, he speaks of M. ie (J. "disgracing a work of such merit by the introduction of such fabrications f 1 again, of the inaccuracy of the author's maps ; and, lastly, of his inserting an island at the southern entry of the Channel between Cephalonia and Ithaca, which has no existence. This observation very nearly approaches to the use of that monosyllable which Gibbon,* without expressing it, so adroitly ap- plied to some assertion of his antagonist, Mr. Davies. In truth, our traveller's words are rather bitter towards his brother tourist : but we must conclude that their justice warrants their severity. In the second chapter, the author describes his landing in Ithaca, and arrival at the rock Korax and the foun- tain Arethusa, as he designates it with sufficient posi- liveness. — This rock, now known by the name of Korax, or Koraka Petra, he contends to be the same with that which Homer mentions as contiguous lo the habitation of EumSBUS, the faithful swine-herd of Ulysses. — We shall take the liberty of adding lo our extracts from Mr Gell some of the passages in Homer to which he refers only, conceiving this to be the fairest method of exhibiting the strength or the weakness of his argument. " Ulysses," he observes, " came to the extremity of ihe isle to visit EumsilS, and that extremity was the most southern^ for Telemaehus, coming from Pylos, touched at the first south-eastern part of Ithaca with the same intention." Kai Tort ft) p' '(Mvffija */iieo$ iro"*v t)\ayt datpvv Ayp* if' Vff^artTjv, W» (wfiara van tM'^iurijj- V.v'i' i]\9iy <;M* f vio( 'Odvtratjof Sumo, 'KK lit Atr /jjltt&otf ro£ luiV fft'V Vljt ^ilXatVJJ- , Avrar> Iwtfv trowrip' A (hapten of lU Dcctin* REVIEW OF GELL'S GEOGRAPHY OF ITHACA. 2 73 there the swine cat the sweet* acorns, and drank the black water." Aif«f rot/ yt o-vtTv\ ti^ikhv cf <*l vtpovrm flap K»pa«und two caves of inconsiderable extent, the entrance oi one of whicb. not difficult of access, is seen in the view of the fount. They are stii] the resort of sheen and gnats, and in one of thrm are small naiural recep- tacles fur the «ater, cot* red by a atalaginitic incrustation. "These caves, being at the extremity of the curve formed by the precipice, < pen toward the south, and pe- sent us w.th another iiccmnpani.ne, t t • the fount of Are- thu^a, mentioned by the poet, who informs us that 'he swineherd Eum^us left hi- gu'-sis in the hou»e, whist he, putting on a thick garment, went t'> sleep near the herd, under the hollow ol the r ck, ** hich shelteied him from the northern Mast. Ni»w Ht uiom that the herd fed near the fount ; for Minerva te'Is Ulysses that he is to so first tn £umeus, whom he should find with the swine, near the roc^ K rax and the fount of Arethusa. As the e wine then fed a( the fountain, so it i-- necessary that a cavern should he found in its vicinity ; and this seems In coincide, in distance and situation, with that of the poem. Near ihe fount al-o was the fold or sutbmos of Eumeeus ; for the goddess informs Ulysses that he should find his faithful servant at or above the fount. 11 Now the hero meets the swineherd close to the f Id, which was consequently very near that source. At the top of the rock, and just above the spot where the water- fall shoots do .vn the pre. ip.ee, is at this day a stagni or pastoral dwelling, which the herdsmen of Ithaca still in- habit, on account of the water necessary for their 1 attle. One of these people talked on the verge of the precipice at the time of our visit to the place, and seemed so anxious to know how we had been conveyed to the spot, that his enquiries reminded us of a que ti ut seven feet high, which is expressed in the pla e. It may be fairly presumed, from the very remark- able coinci 'ence between this place and the Homeric ac- count, that this was the scene designated by the p ei as the fountain of Arethusa, and the residence of Eunifeus; and, perhaps, it would be impossible to find another spot which bears, at this day, so strong a resemblance to a p etic description composed at a period so very remote. There is no other fountain in this part of the island, nor any ruck whit h bears the slightest resemblance to the Korax of Homer. 11 The sbithmofl of the good Eumspus appears to have been little different, euher in use or construction, from the stagni and kalybea of tin- p-esemday. The poet express- ly memi-ins that other herdsmen drove their flocks into • " 5u»«e( «.eorn*. M Does Mr. Oell tranaUt* (Vim the Latin? To tvoirt ■imiLu'CAUM of mtfUk*. f>iveu«a atutuld wn !>• rtui]«rto «ua>«m but froxom, u Buom bu gr**o li. 35 the city at sunset,— a custom which still prevails through our Gree- e dm ing 1 e white , and that was the season in which Ulysses visited EumaBua, Yet Homer accounts for this deviation Chun the pie^ailing custom, by observing that he had retired frnn the city to avoid the suitors of Penelope. These trilling occurrences aflord a strong pre- sumption that the Ithaca of Homer was something more than the creatu r e of his own fancy, as some have sup- posed it ; lor though the grand outline nf a fable may be easily imagined, yet the c> usietent adaptation of minute incidents to a long and elaborate f J-eh"oU is a task of the most arduous and complicated nature " After this long extract, by which we have endea* voured to do justice lo Mr. Cell's argument, we cannot allow room for any farther quotations of such extent, and we must offer a brief and imperfect analysis of the remainder of the work. In the third chapter, the traveller arrives at the capi- tal, and in the fourth, he describes it in an agreeable manner. We select his account of the mode of cele- brating a Christian festival in the Greek church : — '■We were present at the celebration nf the feast of the Ascension, wnen the citizens appeared in their gayest dresses, and saluted each other in tt e streets w;th demon- strationa of pleasure. As we s*te at bie;;kfast in the house of Zi.noi Zavo, we were suddenly roused by the discharge of a gun, succeeded by a tremendous crash of pottery, which fell on the tiles, steps, and pavements, in every di- rection. The bells of the numerous churches commenced a most discordant jingle ; c lours were hoisted on every mast in the pou, ami a general shout of joy announced some great event. Our host informed us that the feast of the Ascension was annually cnmmemora'ed in this man- ner at Bathi. the populace exclaiming »mjv o Xf*;os, oAf fiivoj 6ioj, Christ is risen, the true God." In another passage, he continues this account as fol- lows : — " In the evening of the festival, the inhabitants danced before their houses; and at one we saw the figure which is said to have been first used by the youths and virgins of Delos, at the happy return of Theseus from the expedition of the Cretan Labyrinth. It has now lost much of that intricacy which was supposed to al- lude to the windings of the habitation of the Minotaur," &c. &c. This is rather too much for even the inflexi- ble gravity of uur censorial muscles. "When the author talks, with all the reality (if we may use the expression) of a Lempriere, on the stories of the fabulous ages, we cannot rtfrain from indulging a momentary smile ; nor can we seriously accompany him in the learned archi- tectural detail by which he endeavours to give us, from the Odyssey, the ground-plot of the house of Ulysses, — f which he actually offers a plan in drawing! " show- ing how the description of the house of Ulysses in the Odyssey may be supposed to correspond with the foun- dations yet visible on the hill ofAito!" — Oh, Foot e! Foote ! why are you lost to such inviting subjects for your ludicrous p> ncil ! In his account of this cele- brated mansion, Mr. Gell says, one side of the court seems to have been occupied bv the Thalamos,or sleep- ing apartments of the men, &c. &c. ; and, in confirmation of this hypothesis, he refers to the 10th Odyssey, line 340. On examining his reference, we read, 'Ej daAapov t' Itvat, km .■»« ^,,^ r , r ,, l ,,„„, : cimi.-p, rainer ihan ignorance in Homer, to account for a ! f r „„, the increased number of travellers whs will vieil difference which he imagined 10 exist between the Ithaca I Ihcm j n consequence of Mr. Gell's account of theit of hie lime ami that ol ihe poet. Bui Strabo, who wa« trv w ;|| induce iln-m 10 confer on iliat gentleman Ee 3 .re?e.VS^^ edly misled by tiis informers n j 1 1 salons, should he ever look m upon them again.— JJaron JSutm • Thai Sit ibo bad never risited tin- country 13 evident, Dot only from ins inaccurate account ol it, but from bis citation ol tYppoHodoru* and Seen lus, wh le relatione are indirect opposition to each other 00 ihe sul . tia will be demonstrated on o ruture opiHtftunitv." We must, however, observe that " demonstration" is a strong term, — In his description of the Leucadian Promontory (of which we have a pleasing ri presentation in the plate), the auihor remarks that it is " celebrated for the /'"/' of Sappho, and the death of Artemisia." From this variety in the expression, a reader would hardly conceive that both the ladies perished in ihe same manner: in fact, ihe sentence is as proper as 11 would be to talk of the decapitation of Russell, and the death of Sidney. The view from this promontory in- cludes the island of Corfu; and the name suggests Lo Mr. Gell the following note, which, though rather irre- levant, is of a curious nature, and we therefore con- clude our citations by transcribing it: — " It has been «encrallv supposed thai Corfu, or Corryra, was the Phasacia of Homer: bul Sir Henry En lefield thinks the position of thai island inconsistent with the voyage of Ulysses .is described hi the Odyssey. That gentleman has also observed .> number of such remarkable . .i,,, 1 1 between the courts of A lei nous and Solomon, tm it thi v may be thought curious and interesting. Homer was familiar with ihe names ol Ty e Sidon and Egypt; and, ae he'Iived about ihe time ol Solomon, it would rtoi have been e ctraordiiiary if he hapla 10 -K. . ..-. n hi e he raised the tempest which threw Ulysse* on thi coast qi Fii.i aria; and thai the Solymi of Pampl ids are trerj nt nsiderably distant from the route.— The .-u p c s cha- Mcter, also, which Nauaicaa am ihutes 10 1 ot 1 ounti j man agrees precisely with that which the Greeks and It mans gave of the Jews. 1 ' The seventh chapter contains a description of the ydonasterv of Kathara, and several adjacent places. The eighth, among other curiosities, fixes on an imagi- nary site lor the farm of Laertes : bul tins is the agony of conjecture indeed!— and ihe ninth chapter mentions another Monastery, and a rock still called the school of Homer. Some sepulchral inscriptions of a very simple nature are included. — The tenth and last chapter brings us round to the Port of Schcsnus, near Bathi ; after we have completed, seemingly in a very minute and accurate manner, the lour of the island. We can certainly recommend a perusal of this volume lo every lover of classical scene and story. If we may indulge the pleasing belief that Homer sang of a real kingdom, and that Ulysses governed it, though we dis- cern many feeble links in Mr. GelPs chain of evidence, we are on the whole induced to fancy that this is the Ithaca of the bard and of the monarch. At all events Mr. Gell has enabled every future traveller to form a would be a pretty tide : " Hoc [UnCUl vtlit, it mugno mtrcentur Atrid($."— Virgil. For ourselves, we confess that all our old Grecian feel ioga would be alive on approaching the fountain of Melainudros, where, as the t radii ion runs, or as tho priests relate, Homer was restored to sight. We now come 10 the " Grecian Patterson," or " CaryY' which Mr. Gell has begun to publish; and really he has carried the epic rule of conceal u person of the auihor to as great a length as either of the above-men! ioned heroes of itinerary wriL We hear nothing of Ins ■« hair-breadth 'scapes" by sea or land; and we do not even know, for the greater part ol hia journey through Argolis, whether be relates what ho has *een or what he has heard. From other parts of the b 10 k, we find the former to be ihe ease : but, though there have been tourists and " strangers" in other coun- tries, who have kindly permitted their readers lo learn rather too much of "heir sweet selves, yet it is possible to carry delicacy, or cautious silence, or whatever it may be called, to the contrary extreme. We think that Mr. Gell has fallen into this error, so opposite to that of his numerous brethren. It is offensive, indeed, lo he told what a man has eaten for dinner, or how pathetic he was on certain occasions ; but we like lo know that there is a being vet living who describes ihe scenes lo which he introduces us; and that it is not a mere translation from Strabo or Pausaniaa which we are reading, or a commentary on those authors. Tins re- flection leads us lo the concluding remark in Mr. (.ell's preface (by much the most interesting part of his book) to iii- Iiinerary of Greece, in which he thus expresses himself: — " The confusion of the modern wiih the ancient Q&mes of places In thi$ volume is b boIui ly unavoidable ; they are, however, mentioned in such a manner, that the n adi r will soon be accustomed to the indiscriminate use ol them, Thi necessit) of applying the ancient appellations i" the different routes, will be evident from the total ign< ranee ol the public "ii the subject of the m dei n n >Bnee, v- hich, having never appeared In | ri t, are onl) known to the (ow liirlividi ah u ho h ive vis.ited the country. ■■ What could appi ar lei ■ 11 g Me to the re, ..It, or less useful to the traveller, than a route from Chlone and Zi a to Cutchukmaii, from thence to Knbaia to Scho n 'hi.no, and by the mill? 1 f Peali, « hil< 1 is in ome degree scuuai ted with the names ol Siympha lus, Nemea, Myceme, Lyrcela, Lerna, and T Although this may be very true inasmuch us it relates to the reader, vet to the traveller we must observe, in opposition to Mr. Gell, that nothing can he less useful than ihe designation of Ins route according to the ancient names. We might as well, and with as much chance of arriving at the place of our destination, talk to 3 Hounslow post-boy about making haste to Augvst-i, as apply to our Turkish guide in modern Greece lor a di- rection to Stymphalus, Nemea, Mycenae, &c. &c. This is neither more nor less than classical affectation; and it renders Mr. Gell's book of much more confined use than it would otherwise have been: — but we have some other and more important remarks to make on his general directions to Grecian tourists; and we beg leave to assure our readers that they are derived from travellers who have lately visited Gieece. In ihe first clearer judgment on the question than he could have j place, Mr. Gell is absolutely incautious enough lo re- established "without such a "Vademecum to Ithaca," | commend an interference on the part of Kng/ish travel- er a " Have with yon, to th« Houae of Ulysses; 1 as the ilers with the Minister at the Porte, in behalf ■*! the REVIEW OF G ELL'S GEOGRAPHY OF ITHACA. 275 Greeks. " The folly of such neglect (page 16. preface.) ]t< many instances, where the emancipation of a district might - required, as we have premised, in touching on so delicate a subject as the amelioration of the possessions of an ally: hut the field for the exercise of political sagacity is wide and inviting in this portion of the globe; and Mr. Gell, and all other writers who in- terest us, however .remotely, in its extraordinary capa- biiitie*, deserve welt of the British empire. We shall 276 REVIEW OF GELL'9 GEOGRAPHY OF ITHACA. conclude by an extract from the auihor*s work: which, even if it fails of exciting that general interest which we hope most earnestly it may attract, towards its im- portant subject, cannot, as he justly observes, " be en- tirely uninteresting to the scholar;" since it is a work 11 which gives him a faithful description of the remains of cities, the very existence of which was doubtful, as they perished before the era of authentic history." The subjoined quotation is a good specimen of the author's minuteness of research as a topographer; and we trust that the credit which must accrue to him from the present performance will ensure the completion of his Itinerary:— " The inaccuracies of the maps of Anncharsis are In many respects very glaring. The situation of Phlius is marked by Straho an surrounded by the territories of Sicyon, Argos, Cleona?, and Stymphalus. Mi. Hawkins Observed, that Phlius, the ruins of which still exist UH Agios Giorgios, lies in a direct line between Cleona? and Stymphalus, and another from Sicyon to Argos; so that Strabo was correct in saying that it lay between those four towns; yet we see Phlius, in the map of Argolis by M. Barbie du Bocage, placed ten miles to the north of Styra- phalus, contradicting both history and fact. D'Anville is guilty of the same error. " M. du Bocage places a town named Phlius, and by him Phlionie, on the point of land which forms the port of Drepano : there are not at present any ruins there. The maps of D'Anville are generally more correct than any others where ancient geography is concerned. A mis- take occurs on the subject of Tiryns, and a plare named by him Vathia, but of which nothing can be understood. It is p 'ssible that Vailii, or the profound valley, may be a name sometimes used for the valley of Barbitsa, ami thai the place named by D'Anville Clauaira may be the outlet or that valley called Kleisoura, which has a corresponding #lgniucaUon. " The city of Tiryns Is also placed in iwo different post tions, once by its Greek name, and again 4s Tirymhua. The mistake between the islands of Sphn na and C a) aura has been noticed in page 135. The Pontinus, which D'An ville p-pT«H?nu as a river, and the Krasinus are equally ill placed in his map. There was a place called Creopolia, somewhere toward Cynourra ; but its situation is n<>i easily Axed. The ports called Bucephalium and Piraeus seem to have bean nothing more than little bays in the country between Corinth and Epidaurus. The town called Athe- ns, in Cynouria, hy Pausanias, is called Aiilhena by Tkucydide; book 5. 41. 11 In general, ths map of D'Anville will be found more accurate than those which have been published since bis time ; indeed the mistakes of that eeographer are in ge- neral such as could not be avoided" without visiting the country. Two errors of D'Anville may be mentioned, lest the opportunity of publishing the itinerary of Arcadia should never occur. The first is, that the rivers Mal&tas and Mylaon, near Metbydrium, are represented as run- Ding toward the south, whereas they flow northwards to the Ladon: and the second is, that the Aroanius, which falls into tne Erymanihop at Psophis, is represented aa flowing from the lake of Pheneos; a mistake which arises from the ignorance of the ancients themselves who have written on the subject. The fact is that the Ladon receives the waters of the lakes of Orchumenrs and Pheneos : but the Aroanius rises at a spot not two hours distant from Psophis." In furtherance of our principal object in this critique, we have only to add a wish that some of our Grecian tourists, among the fresh arlicles of information con- cerning Greece which they have lately imported, would turn their minds to the language of the country. So strikingly similar to the ancient Greek is the modern Romaic as a written language, and so dissimilar in sound, that even a few general rules concerning pro- nunciation would be of most extensive use. THE FIRST CHAPTER OF A NOVEL, COirTEJCPLATED BT LORD Bl'ROS I?f THE SPRING OF 1812 ; (AFTERWARDS PUBLISHED Ilf ONE OF MR. DALLAS 1 NOVELS.) -,J- 1S0— . — — DARJIELL TO G. T. * * * * So much for your present pursuits. I will now resume the subject of ray last. How I wish you were upon the spot ; your taste for the ridiculous would be fully gratified; and if you felt inclined for more serious amusement, there is no "lack of argument. ° Within this last week our guests have been doubled in number, some of them my old acquaintance. Our host you already know — absurd as ever, but rather duller, and I should conceive, troublesome to such of his very good friends as find his bouse more agreeable than its owner. I confine myself to observation, and do not find him at all in the wav, though Veramore and Asply are of a different opinion. The former, in particular, imparts to me many pathetic complaints of the want of opportunities (nothing rise being wanting to the success of the said Veramore) created by the fractious and but ill concealed jealousy of poor Bramblebear, whose Penelope seems to have as cnanv suitors as her namesake, and for aught I can see to the contrary, with as much prospect of carrying their point. In the mean time, I look on and laugh, or rather I should laugh were you present to share in it ; sackcloth and sorrow are excellent wear for soliloquy ; but for a laugh there should be two, but not many more, except at the first ni^ht of a modern tragedy. You are verv much mistaken in the design you impute to myself; I have none here or elsewhere. I am sick of old intrigues, and too indolent to engage in new ones. Besides, I am, that is, I used to be, apt to find my heart pone at the very time when you fastidious gentlemen begin to recover yours. I agree with you that the world, as well as yourself) are of a different opinion. I shall never be at the trouble to undeceive ei'her ; my follies have seldom been of my own seeking. " Rebellion came in my way, and I found it." This may appear as cox- combical a speech as Veramore could make, yet you partlv know its truth. You talk to me too of a my cha- racter,"' and yet it is one which you and fifty others have been struggling these seven years to obtain for yourselves. I wish you had it, you would make so much oeUer, that is, worse use of it ; relieve me, and gratify an ambition which is unworthy of a man of sense. It has always appeared lo me extraordinary that you should value women so highly, and yet love them so little. The height of your gratification ceases with its accomplishment; you bow, pnA you sigh, and you worship, — and abandon. For my part I regard them as a very beautiful, but inferior animal. I think them u much out of place at our tabWa as they would be in our senates. The whole present system, with regard to that sex, is a remnant of the chivalrous barbarism of our ancestors ; I look upon them as grown- up children, but, like a foolish mamma, am always the slave of some only one. With a contempt for the race, I am ever attached to the individual, in spite of myself. You know that, though not rude, I am inattentive ; any thing but a a beau garfon." I would not hand a woman out of her carriage, but I would leap into a nver after her. However [ giant you that, as they must walk oftener out of chariots than into the Thames, you gentlemen servitors, Cortejos and Cicisbei, have a better chance of being agreeable and useful ; you might, very probably, do both ; but as you can't swim, and I can, I recommend you to mute me to your first water-party. Bramblebear's Lady Penelope puzzles me. She is very beautiful, but not one of my beauties. You know I admire a different complexion, but the figure is perfect. She is accomplished, if her mother and music-master may be believed ; amiable, if a soft voice and a sweet smile could make her so; young, even by the register of her baptism ; pious and chaste, and doting on her hus- band according to Bramblebear's observation ; equally loving, not of her husband, though rather less pious, and £ other thing, according to Veramore 's ; and if mine hath any discernment, she detests the one, despises the other, and loves — herself. That she dislikes Bramblebear is evident; poor soul, I can't blame her ; she has found him out to be mighty weak and little-tempered; she has also discovered that she married loo earlv to know what she liked, and that there are many likeable people who would have been less discordant and more creditable partners. Still, she conducts herself well, and in point of sood humour, to admiration. A good deal of religion, (not enthusiasm, for that leads the contrary way,) a prying husband who never leaves her, and, as I think, a very temperate pulse, will keep her out of scrapes. I am glad of it, first, because, though Bramblebear is bad, 1 dun*! lliink Veramore much better; and next, because Bram- blebear is ridiculous enough already, and it would be thrown away upon him to make him more so ; thirdly, it would be a pity, because nobody would pity him ; and, fourthly, (as Scrub says,) he would then become a melan- choly and sentimental harlequin, instead of a merry, fret* ful pantaloon, and I like the pantomime belter as it is now cast. Wore in my next. Yours, truly, Dakhkll. PARLIAMENTARY SPEECHES. DEBATE OS THE FRAME-WORK BILL, IN THE HOP8E OF LORDS, FEBRUARY 27, 1812. The order of the day for the second reading of this bill being pad, . , LORU BYRON rose, and (for the first lime) ad- dressed their l.nd-hips, as follows: My Lords— The subject now submitted to your lord- ships for the first time, though new to the House, ii bj no means new t" the country. 1 believe n had occupied the serious thoughts of all descriptions ol persons, long before its introduction to the notice of that legislature whose interference alone could be of real service. As 1 person in some degree connected with the sufferin county, though a stranger not only to this House in gene ral, but to almost every individual whose attention I pre sume to solicit, I must claim s p.imon ol your lord ships' indulgence whilst I oiler a few observations on a question in "Inch I confess myself deeply interested. To enter into anv deiail of the riots would be supi i (luuus: the House is already aware that ever) outragi short of actual bloodshed has been perpetrated, and that the proprietors of the frames obnoxious to the riotl rs, and all persons supposed to be connected with them, have been liable to insult and violence. During die short tune I recently passed in Nottinghamshire, not twelve noun elapsed without some fresh act of violence ; and on the hurried over with a view to exportation. It was callcl, in the cant of the trade, by the name of "Spider work. The rejected workmen, in the blindness of their Igno- , m, , instead of rejoicing at these improv. in. nts in arts ..,, beneficial to mankind, oonci I themselyi - sacrificed to improvements in mechani m. Inthi I noes of their hearts they imagi I, md well-doing of the industrious poor wi greater consequence than the enrich at ol • Ii viduals bv anv improvement, in the implemi nts "t trade, which threw the workmen out of employment, and ren- di r,d the labourer unworthy of In- lore. And it must be confessed that although the adoption of the enlarged ma- chinery in that state of our commerce which the country v boasted, might have been beneficial to the without belli" detrimental to the servant ; vet, in the pre- sent situation of our manufactures, rotting ui wan b without a prospect of exportation, with the demand Tor work and workmen equally rliimnished; frames of this ion tend materially toaggravate thediaO discontent of the disappointed sufferers. But tl cause of these distresses and consequent dads lies deeper. When we are told that these men are leagued togedier not only for the destruction of 101 .row,, comfort, but of their verv means of subsistence, can we forget that it is the bitter policy, the destructive wai nave reason io ueuc**. .v >■« »" -. these outrages must be admitted to exist to an alarming extent, it cannot be denied that they have arisen from circumstances of the most unparalleled distress. The perseverance of these miserable men in their proceed. ings, tends to prove that nothing but absolute want could have driven a large, and once honest and industrious, body of the people, into the commission of excesses so hazardous to themselves, their families, and the commu- nity. At the nine to which I allude, the town and county were burdened with large detachments of the military ; the poh.e was in motion, the magistrates assembled ; yet all the movements, civil and military, had led to— nothing Not a single instance had occurred of the apprehension of any real delinquent actuall) taken in the (act, agam whom there existed legal eval nee sutlieient I ">"'- tion. But the police, however useless, were by no means idle- several notorious delinquents had been .1 men, liable to conviction, on the dearest evidence, of the capital crime of poverty; men who had bee I guilty of lawfully begetting several children, whom,thanks to the times', they were unaMe to maintain. C idera- ble injury has been done to the proprietors of the improved frames ' These machines were to them an advantage, inasmuch as they superseded the necessity of employing a number of workmen, who were left in consequence to starve. By the adoption of one species of frame in par- ticular, one man performed the work of many, and the superfluous labourers were thrown out of employment. Yet it is to be observed, dial the work thus executed was inferior in qualitx; ; not marketable at home, and merely me tniru anu luuioi g«u«» destroyed their looms till they were become I] wot ii than useless; till they were beeomeacuial b Mini's to their exertions 111 obtaining their dally b I ad. i ,,, you, then, wonder that in tunes like these, when bankruptcy, convicted fraud, and imputed felony are found in a station not far beneath that of your lordships, the lowest, though once most useful portion ol the people, should forget their duty in their distresses, and h me only lr~s guilty than one of their representatives? But while the exalted offender can find means to battle the law, new capital punishments must be devised, new snares of death must be spread for the wretched mecha- nic, who is famished into guitt. These men wore w illing lo di ■. bul the spade was in "'her hands: they were not ashamed lo beg, bul there was none to relii own moan- of subsistence were cut off, all othei employ- menu preoccupied, and their excesses, however to be and condemned, can hardly be subject of sur- prise. It has been stated that the persons in the temporary ion of frames connive at their destruction i it this be proved upon inquiry, it were necessary that such mate* rial accessaries to llie'crime should he principals III ihe punishment. But Idid hope, that any measure | by his majesty's government, foi your lordships' dads would have had conciliation (or its basis; or, if that were hopeless, that some previous inquiry, some deliberation would have hem deemed requisite; not that we s hould have been called at once without examination, and with- out cause, to pass sentences by wholesale, and sign death- PARLIAMENTARY SPEECHES. 279 But admitting Aat these men had no then employments, would have rendered unnecessary the voices of them and tender mercies of the bayonet and the gibbei. Bui ' doubtless our friends have loo many foreign claims to admit a prospect of domestic relief; though never did I have traversed the seat of wamr ta blindfold. cause of complaint their i mployers were alike groundless; 'hai they deserved the worst; what inefficiency, what imbecility has been evinced in the method chosen to reduce them! Why were the militarv called out to be made a mockery of, if they were to be called out at all ? As far as the differ- ence of seasons would permit, they have merely parodied the summer campaign of Major Sturgeon ; and, indeed, the whole proceedings, civil and military, seemed on the i .f those of the Mayor and Corporation of Gar- ow«d on Portugal, even if those men (whi h I cannot admit ■nr.hout inquiry) could not have been, restored to iich objects demand it. war in the Peninsula, I have been in some of the most oppressed provinces of Turkey, but never under the most despouc of infidel governments did I behold such squaiid wTetchcdness as I have seen since my return in the very heart of a Christian country. And what are your reme- dies ? After months of inaction, and months of action worse than inactivity, at length comes forth the grand specific, the never-failing nostrum of all state physicians, from the davs of Draco to the present time. After feel- ing the pulse and shaking the head over the patient, pre scribing the usual course of warm water and bleeding, the warm water of your maukish police, and the lance's of your military, these convulsions must terminate in death, the sure consummation of the prescriptions of all politi- cal Sangrados. Setting aside the palpable injustice, and the certain inefficiency of the bill, are there not capital punishments sufficient in your statutes? Is there not blood enough upon your penal code, that more must be poured fi .rth to ascend to Heaven and testify against you ? How will you carrv the bill into effect ? Can you com- mit a whole county to their own prison ? Will you erect a gibbet in every field, and hang up men like scarecrows? or will you proceed (as you must, to bring this measure into effect) by decimation ? place the county under mar- tial law? depopulate and lay waste all around you? and restore Sherwood Forest as an acceptable gift to the crown, in its former condition of a royal chase and an asylum for outlaws ? Are these the remedies for a starv- ing and desperate populace? Will the famished wretch who has braved your bayonets, be appalled by your gib bets? When death is 'a relief, and the only relief it appears that you will afford him, will he be dragooned into tranquillity ? Will that which could not be effected by your grenadiers be accomplished by your execution- ers ? If you proceed by the forms of law, where is your evidence ? Those who have refused to impeach their accomplices, when transportation only was the punish- ment, will hardly be tempted to witness against them when death is the penalty. With all due deference to the noble lords opposite, I think a little invest iga'ion, some previous inquiry, would induce even them to change their purpose. That most favourite state measure, so marvel lously efficacious in many and recent instances, temporiz- ing, would not be without its advantages in this. When a proposal is made to emancipate or relieve, you hesitate you deliberate for years, you temporize and tamper with the minds of men;' but a death-bill must be passed off hand, without a thought of the consequences. Sure I am, from what I have heard, and from what I have seen, that to pass the Bill under all the existing circumstances, without inquiry, without deliberation, would only be to add injustice to irritation, and barbarity to neglect. The (Tamers of such a Bill must be content to inherit the honours of that Athenian lawgiver whose edicts were said to be written not in ink, but in blood. But suppose it past ; suppose one of these men, as I have seen them, —meagre w iih famine, sullen with despair, careless of a life which vour lordships are perhaps about to vali e at something less than the price of a stocking-frame— sup- pose this "man surrounded by the children for whom he is unable to procure bread at the hazard of his existence, about to be torn for ever from a family winch he lately supported in peaceful industry, and which it is not his fault that he can no longer so support— suppose this man, and there are ten thousand such from whom you may jeled vour victims, dragged into court, to be tried for this new offence, bv this n™ law ; still, there are two things wanting to convict and condemn him ; and these are, in my opinion,— twelve Butchers for a Jury, and a Jeffenej f >r a Judge! 280 PARLIAMENTARY 6PEECHK9. DEBATE OX THE EARL OF DONOUGHMORe's MOTIOS FOR A COMMITTEE ON THE ROMAN CATHOLIC CLAIMS, APRIL 21, 1612. My Lords — The question before the House has been 80 frequently, fully, and ably discussed, and never perhaps more ably than on this night, that it would be difficult to adduce new arguments for or against it. But with each discussion difficulties have been removed, objections have been canvassed and refuted, and some of the former opponents of Catholic Emancipation have at length con- ceded to the expediency of relieving the petitioners. In conceding thus much, however, a new objection is started ; it is not the time, say they, or it is an improper lime, or there is time enough yet. In some degree I concur with those who say it is not the time exactly; that lime is passed ; better had it been for the country, that the Ca- tholics possessed at this moment their proportion of our privileges, that their nobles held their due weight in our councils, than that we should be assembled to discuss their claims. It had indeed been better Ogere c " Noa tempore tali rilium turn muroi obsiHrl hoatM.' The enemy is without, and distress within. It is loo late tn r;ivil on doctrinal points, when we must unite in defence of things more important than the mere ceremonies of religion. It is indeed singular, that we are called together to deliberate, not on the God we adore, for in that we are agreed ; not about the king we obey, for to him we are loyal ; but how far a difference in the ceremonials of wor- ship, how far believing not too little, but too much, (the worst that can be imputed to the Catholics,) how far loo rum li devotion to their God, may incapacitate our fellow-subjects from effectually serving their king. Much has been said, within and without doors, of Church and State, and although those venerable words have been too often prostituted to the most despicable of party purposes, we cannot hear them too often ; all, I presume, are the advocates of Church and State, ihe Church of Christ, and the State of Great Britain ; but not a state of exclusion and despotism; not an intolerant church ; not a church militant, which renders itself liable to the very objection urged against the Romish commu- nion, and in a greater degree, for the Catholic merely with- holds its spiritual benediction, (and even that is doubtful,) but our church, or rather our churchmen, not only refuse to the Catholic their spiritual grace, but all temporal bless- ings whatsoever. It was an observation of the great Lord Peterborough, made within these walls, or within the walls where the Lords then assembled, that he was fin a "parliamentary king and a parliamentary constitution, but not a parliamentary God, and a parliamentary religion.'' The interval of a century has not weakened the force of the remark. It is indeed time that we should leave off these petty cavils on frivolous points, these Lilliputian sophistries, whether our "eggs are best broken at the broad or narrow end." The opponents of the Catholics may be divided into two classes ; those who assert that the Catholics have too much already, and those who allege that the lower orders, at least, have nothing more to require. We are told by the former, that the Catholics never will be contents! : by the latter, that they are already too happy. The lost paradox is sufficiently refuted by Ihe present, as by all past petitions : it might as well he said, that the negroes did not desire to be emancipated — but this is an unfortunate comparison, for you have already delivered them out of the house of bondage without any petition on their pari, but many from their taskmasters to a contrary effect ; said tor myself, when I consider this, I pity the Catholic peasantry for not having the good fortune to be born black. But the Catholics are contented, or at least ought to be, as we are told : I shall therefore proceed to touch on a few of those circumstances which so marvellously contri- bute to their exceeding contentment. They are not atinwtd the fiteo, •xorcoo of their religion in the regular armv ; the Catholic soldier cannot absent himself fron. the service of the Protestant clergyman, and, unless he is quartered in Ireland, or in Spain, where can he find eligi- ble opportunities of attending bis own ? The permission of Catholic chaplains to the Irish militia regiments was conceded as a special favour, and not till after years of remonstrance, although an act, passed in 1793, established it as a right. But are the Catholics properly protected in Ireland 7 Can the church purchase a rood of land where- on to erect u chapel ? No ; all the places of worship are built on leases of trust or sufferance from the laity, easily broken and often betrayed. The moment any irregular wish, any casual caprice of the benevolent landlord meets with opposition, the doors are barred against the congre- gation. This has happened continually, but in no instance more glaring! v, than at the town of Newtown Barry, in the county of Wexford. The Catholics, enjoying no regular chapel, as a temporary expedient, hired two barns, which, being thrown into one, served for public worship. At tins time there was quartered opposite to the spot an officer, whose mind appears to have been deeply imbued with those prejudices which the Protestant petitions, now on the table, prove to have been fortunately eradicated from the more rational portion of the people; and when the Catholics were assembled on the Sabbath as usual, in peace and good-will towards men, for the worship of their God and yours, they found the chapel door closed, and were told that if they did not immediately retire, (and they were told this by a yeoman officer and a magistrate,) the riot act should be read, and the assembly dispersed at the point of the bayonet! This was complained of to ihe middle-man of government, the secretary at the Cas- tle in 1806, and the answer was, (in lieu of redress,) that he would cause a letter to be written to ihe colonel, to prevent, if possible, the recurrence of similar distnnV .on . -. Upon this fact, no very great stress need be laid ; but it tends to prove that while the * 'atholic church has not power to purchase land for ils chapels to stand upon, the laws for its protection are of no avail. In the mean tune, the Catholics are at the mercy of every "pelting petty officer," who may choose to play his "fantastic tricks before high heaven," to insult his God, and injure his fellow-creatures. Every schoolboy, any footboy (such have held com- missions in our service,) any footboy who can exchange his shoulderknot for an epaulet, may perform all this and more against the Catholic, by virtue of that very authority delegated to him by his sovereign, for the express purpose of defending his fellow-subjeets to the last drop of lus blood, without discrimination or distinction between Catholic and Protestant. Have the Irish Catholics the full benefit of trial by jury? They have not; they never can have until tie v are permitted to share the privilege of Barring as sheriffs and undershenfls. Of this a striking example occurred, at the last EnniskilU-n assizes. A yeoman was arraigned for the murder of a Catholic named Macvoumagh : three respe. lahle uncontradicted unnesses deposed that they saw the prisoner load, take aim, tire at, and kill the said Macvoumagh. This was properly commented on by the judge; but, to the astonishment of the bar, and indignation of the court, the Protestant jury acquitted the accused. So glaring was the partiality, that Mr. Justice I tebome felt u his duty to bind over the acquitted, but not absolved assassin, in large recognizances, thus lor a lime taking away his license to kill Catholics. Arc the very laws passed in their favour observed ? They are rendered nugatory in trivial as in serious cases. By a late act, Catholic chaplains are permitted in jails, but in Fermanagh county the grand jury lately persisted in presenting a suspended clergyman for the office, there- in- evading the statute, notwithstanding the most preOHU remonstrances of a most respectable magistrate, named Fletcher, to the contrary. Surh is law, such is justice, I for tho happy, freo, contented Catholic! PARLIAMENTARY SPEECHES. 28 1 It has been asked in another p'ace, why do not the rich Catholics endow foundations f>r the education of the priesthood? Why do you not permit them to do so? Why are all such bequests subject to the interference, the vexatious, arbitrary, peculating interference of the Orange commissioners for charitable donations? As to Mavnooth college, in no instance, except at the time of its foundation, when ;i noble Lord (Camden,) at the head of the Irish administration, did appear to inte- rest himself in its advancement ; and during the govern- ment df a noble Duke (Bedford,) who, like his ancestors, has ever been the friend of freedom and mankind, and who has not so far adopted ihe selfish policy of the day as to exclude the Catholics from the number of his fellow- creatures ; with these exceptions, in no instance has that institution been properly encouraged. There was indeed a time when the Catholic clergy were conciliated, while the Union was pending, that Union which could not be carried without them, while their assistance was requisite in procuring addresses from the Catholic counties; then they were cajoled and caressed, feared and Haltered, and given to understand that li the Union would do every thing ;* but, the moment it was passed, they were driven back with contempt into their former obscurity. In the contempt pursued towards Mavnooth college, every thing is done to irri'ate and perplex — every thing trines of the Church of England, or of churchmen 'J nearest of kindred from a charity charter school. In this manner are proselytes ob'ained, and mingled with the offspring of such Protes'an's as mav avail themselves of the institution. And how are they taught? A cate- chism is put into their hands consisting of, I believe, forty-five pages, in which are three questions relative to the Protestant religion ; one of these queries is, " Where was the Protestant religion before Luther?" Answer, ''In the Gospel." The remaining furtv-four pages and a half regard the damnable idolatry of Papists! Allow me to ask our spiritual pastors and masters, is this training up a child m the way which he should go? Is this the religion of the gospel before the time of Lu- ther ? that religion which preaches "Peace on earth, and glory to God .'" Is it bringing up infants to be men or devils? Belter would it be to send them any where than teach them such doctrines; better send them to those islands in the South Seas, where they might more humanely leam to become cannibals ; it would be less disgusting that thev were brought up to devour the dead, than persecute the living. Schools do you call th< m ? call them rather dunghills, where the viper of intolerance deposits her young, that, when their teeth are cut and heir poison is mature, they may issue forth, filthy and venomous, to sting the Catholic. But are these the doc- is done to efface the slightest impression of gratitude from the Catholic mind ; the very hay made upon the lawn, the fat and tallow of the beef and mutton allowed, must be paid for and accounted upon oath. It is true, this economv in miniature cannot be sufficiently com- mended, particularly at a lime when only the insect defaulters of the Treasury, your Hums ami your Chin- nrrvs, when only these "gilded bugs" can escape the microscopic eye of ministers. But when vou come for- ward session after session, as your paltry pittance is wrung from you with wrangling and reluctance, to boast of your liberality, well might the Catholic exclaim, in the words of Prior, — " To Jolin I owe ooroe "Miaulion, But Jului unluckily think* fit T* paMbli it to Ml lt>e nation. So John and I arc in. .re than quit." Some persons have enmpared the Catholics to the beggar in Gil Bias. Who mad*; them beggars ? Who are enriched with the spoils of their ancestors? And cannot you relieve the beggar when your fathers have made him such? If you are disposed to relieve him at all, cannot you do it without flinging your farthings in his fur.- ? As a contrast, however, to this beggarly bene- rolence, let us look at the Protestant Charter Schools; w i them you have lately granted 41,000/. ; thus are they supported, aid how are they recruited ? Montesquieu observes, on the English constitution, that the model may be found in Tacitus, where the historian descrihes the policy of ihe Germans, and adds, " this beautiful system was taken from the woods j* 1 so in speaking of the charter schools, it may be observed, that this beautiful system was taken from the gipsies. These schools are recruit- ed in the same manner as the Janizaries at the time of their enrolment under Amurath, and the gipsies of the present dav, with stolen children, with children decoyed and kidnapped from their Catholic connexions by their rich and powerful Protestant neighbours: this is noto- rious, and one instance may sutfice to show in what manner. The sister of a Mr. Carthy (a Catholic gen- tleman of very considerable property) died, leaving two girls, who were immediately marked out as proselytes, and conveved to the charter sch«»ol of Coolgreny. Then- uncle, on being apprized of the fact, which took place durinc his absence, applied for the restitution of his nieces, offering to settle an independence on these rela- tions; his request was refused, and not till after five years' struggle, and the interference of very high autho- niy, could this Catholic gentleman obtain back his 36 No; the most enlightened churchmen are of a different opinion. What says Paley ? "I perceive no reason why men of different religious persuasions, should not sit upon the same bench, deliberate in the same council, or fight in the same ranks, as well as men of various religious opimons, upon any controverted topic of natural history, philosophy, or ethics." It may be answered that Paley was not strictly orthodox ; I know nothing of his orthodoxy, but who will deny that he was an ornament to the church, to human nature, to Christianity ? I shall not dwell upon the grievance of tithes, so severely felt by the peasantry, but it may be proper to observe that there is an addition to the burden, a per- centage to the gatherer, whose interest it thus becomes to rate them as highly as possible, and we know that in many large living in Ireland, the only resident Protest- ant? are the tithe-proctor and his family. Amons many causes of irntauon, too numerous for recapitulation, there is one in the militia not to be passed over, 1 mean the existence of Orange lodges amongst the [invars ; can the cdieers deny tins ? And if such lodges do exist, do thev, can they tend to promote harmonv amongst the men, who are thus individually separated in society, although mingled in th'- ranks ? And is this general system of persecution to he permitted, or is it to be believed that with such a system the Catholics can or ought to be contented ? If they are, they belie human nature; they are then, indeed, unworthy to be any thing but the slaves you have made them. The factsslated are from most respectable authority, or I should not have dan d in this place, or any place, to haiurd this avowal. If e\ag;:erated, there are plenty, as willing as I believe thi m ii. be unable, to disprove them. Should it be objected that I never was in Irelandj I beg leave lo observe, ihat it is as easy to know something of Ireland without having been there, as it appears with some to hav«- been bom, bred, and cherished there, and yet remain ignorant "fits best interests. But there are, who assert that the Catholics have already been too much indulged: see (cry they) what has been done: we have given them one entire college, we allow them food and raiment, the full enjoyment of the elements, and leave to fight for us as long as they have limbs and lives lo offer ; and yet they are never to be satisfied! Generous and just declaimers ! To this, and to tins only, amount the whole of your arguments when stnpt of their sophistry. These personages remind me of the story of a certain drummer, who being called upon in the course of duty to administer punishment to 282 PARLIAMENTARY SPEECHES. a friend tied to the halberts, was requested to flog high , h,. did— to ting low, he did— to flog in the middle, he did —high, low, down the middle, and up again, but all in rain, the patient continued his complaints with the most provoking pertinacity, until the drummer, exhausted a angrv, Hung downliisscourge.cxclaiming, " the devil In you, there 'a DO pleasingyou, flog where one will!" Tl exhausted and burn hus it is', you liave flogged the Catholic, high, low, here, there, and every where, and then you wonder he is not pleased. It is true, that time, experience, and that weariness which attends even the exercise of barbarity, have taught you to il"- a Hide more gently, but still you e Que la lay on the lash, and will so continue, till perhaps the rod may be wrested from your hands, and applied to die baeks of yourselves and your posterity. It was said by somebody in a former debate, (I forget by whom, and am not very anxious to remember,) il the Catholics are emancipaled, why not the Jews ? If this sentiment was dictated by compassion for the Jews, it might deserve attention, but as a sneer against the Catho- lic, what is it but the language of Sliylock transferred from his daughter's marriage to Catholic emancipation- " Would inyof the LrfbiofBMTSbbM SlioulJ have ll rather than a Clirialinii." 1 presume a Catholic is a Christian, even in the opi- nion of him whose taste only can be called in question for his preference of the Jews. It is a remark often quoted of Dr. Johnson, (whom I take to be almost as good authority as the gentle apostle of intolerance, Dr. Duigenan,) thai lie who could enter- tain serious apprehensions of danger to the Church in these times, would have "cried lire in the deluge." This is more than a metaphor, for a remnant of diese ante- diluvians appear actually to have cue- down to us, with fire in their mouths and water in thoir brains, to disturb and perplex mankind with tli. ir whimsical And as it is an infallible symptom of that distressing malady with which I conceive them to be afflicted, (so any doctor will inform your lordships,) for the unhappy invalids to perceive a flame perpetually flashing b I their eyes, particularly when their eyes are shut, (as those of the persons to whom I allude have long been,) it is impossible to convince these poor creatures, that die fire against which they are perpetually warning us and themselves, is nothing but an ignis fiUuus of their own drivelling imaginations. What rhubarb, senna, or "what purgative ding can scour that fancy thruce .'" — It is im- possible, they are given over, theirs is the true " Caput insanabile Iritaia Amicyris." These are your true Protestants. Like Bayle, who pro- le-tod against all seels whatsoever, so do they protest against Catholic petitions, Protestant petitions, all re- dress, all that reason, humanity, pule'-, justice, and com, man sense, can urge againsl the delusions of their absurd delirium. Tie-, are the persons who reverse the fable of the mountain mat brought forth a mouse ; Uicy are the mice who conceive themselves in labour with mountains. To return to the Catholics, -oppose the Irish were actually contented under their disabilities, lupposethero capable of such a bull as not to desire deliverance, ought we not to wish it for ourselves? Have we nothing to gain by their emancipation? What resources have I n wasted! What talents have been lost by the selfish system of exclusion! You already know the value of Irish aid ; at tins moment the defence of England is intrusted to the Irish militia: at this moment, while the starving people are rising in tile fierceness of despair, the Irish are faithful to their trust. But till equal energy- is imparted throughout by the extension of freedom, you cannot enjoy the full benefit of the strength which you are glad to interpose between you and destruction. Ire- land has done much, but will do more. At tllis moment the only triumph obtained through long years of con- tinental disaster has been achieved by an Irish general ; it is true lie is not a Catholic ; had he been so, we should have been deprived of bis exertions; but 1 presume no one will assert that his religion would have impaired bin talents or diminished his patriotism, though in lhat case he must have conquered in the ranks, for he never could have commanded an army. But while he is fighting the batUcs of the Catholira abroad, his noble brother has this night advocated iheir cause, « ith an eloquence which I shall not depreciate by the humble u ibute of my panegyric, whilst a third of his kindred as unlike u unequal, has been combating againsl his Catholic brethren in Dublin, with circular letters, edicts, proclamations, arrests, and dispersions— all the vexatious implements of petty warfare that could be wielded bv the mercenary guerillas of govermni ,n rbe rusty armour of iheir obsolete statutes. Your lordships will, doubtless, divide new honour saviour of Portugal, and the dispenser of delegates. U is singular, indeed, to observe the difference between our foreign and domestic policy; if Cathode Spain, faithful Portugal, or the no less Catholic and faithful km. one Sicily, (of which, by the by, yon have lately di him,) -land III need of succour, away goes a fleel and an army, an ambassador and a subsidy, sometimes to fight pretty hardly, generally to negotiate very badly, and always to pay very dearly for our Popish allies. Kill let four millions of fellow-subjects pray for relief, who fight and pay and labour in your behalf, they must be treated as aliens, and although their "father's boose has many mansions," there is no resting-place for them. Allow me to ask, are yo t fighting lor the emancipa- tion of Ferdinand the Seventh, who certainly is a fool, and consequently, in all probability, a bigot ; and havo you more regard for a foreign sovereign than your own objects, who are not fools, for they know your interest better than you know your own; who are not bigots, for I hey return you good fir evil; but who are m worse durance than the prison of an usurper, inasmuch as the Utters of the mind are more galling Uian those of the body. Upon the consequences of your not acceding to the claims of the petitioners, I shail not expatiate ; you know them, you will feel them, and your children's children when you are passed away. Adieu to that Union so called, as " Lucus a non lucmdu" a Union from neve! uniting, which, in its first operation, gave a death-blow to the independence of Ireland, and in its last may be the cause of her eternal separation from this country. If u must be called a Union, il is the union of the shark with his prey ; the spoiler swallows up his victim, and thus they become one and indivisible. Thus has Great Britain swallowed up the parliament, the constitution, die independence of Ireland, and refus. - to disgorge even a single privilege, although for the relief of her - and distempered body politic And now, my lords', before I sit down, will his majesty's ministers permit me to say a few words, not on their merits, for that would be superfluous, but on the degree of estimation in which they are held by the people of these realms. The esteem in which Uicy are held has been boasted of in a triumphant tone on a late occasion within these walls, and a comparison instituted between their conduct, and dial of noble lords on this side of the house. What portion of popularity may have fallen to the share of my noble friends, (if such I may presume to call them,) I shall not pretend to ascertain; but lhat of his majesty's ministers it were vain to deny. Il is, to be sure, a little like die wind, " no one knows whence it comelh or whither it goelh," but they feel it, they enjoy it, they boast of it. Indeed, modest and unostentatious as they are, to what part of the kingdom, even Ihe most remote, can they flee to avoid the trium|>li which pursues them? If they pUinge into the midland counties, there they wdl be greeted by the manufacturers, widi rpurnod petitions P A R L I AM ENTARY SPEECHES. 283 in their hands, and those hatters round their necks recent- ly voted in their behalf, imploring blessings on the heads of those who so simply, yet ingeniously contrived to re« move them from their miseries in this to a better world If they journey on to Scotland, from Glasgow to Johnny Groat's, every where will they receive similar marks ot approbation. If they take a trip from Portpairick to Donaghadee, there will they rush at once into the em- braces rif four Catholic millions, to whom their vote of this nigh) is about to endear them for ever. When they return to the metropolis, if they can pass under Temple Bar without unpleasant sensations at the sight of the Oicht a over that ominous gateway, they cannot escape the acclamations of the livery, and the more tre- mulous, but not less sincere, applause, the blessings "not loud but deep" of bankrupt merchants and doubting stock- holders. If they look to the army, what wreaths, not of laurel, but of nightshade, are preparing for the heroes of Walcheren ! It is true there are few living deponents left to testify to their merits on that occasion ; but a "cloud of witnesses' 1 are gone above from that gallant army which they so generously and piously despatched, to recruit the "noble army of martyrs." \\ fial \{, in the course of this triumphal career, (in which they will gather as many pebbles as Caligula's arutv did on a similar triumph, the prototype of their own,) they do not perceive any of those memorials which a grateful people erect in honour of their benefactors; what although not even a signpost will condescend to depose the Saracen's head in favour of the likeness of the conquerors of Walcheren, they will not want a picture who can always have a caricature ; or regret the omission of a statue who will so often see themselves exalted in effisv. But their popularity is not limited to the narrow bounds of an island ; there are other countries where their measures, and, above all, their conduct to the Ca- tholics, must render them pre-eminently popular. If they are beloved here, in France they must be adored. There is no measure more repugnant to the designs and feelings of Buonaparte than Catholic emancipation ; no line of conduct more propitious to his projects, than that which en pursued, is pursuing, and, I fear, will be pursued, t wards Ireland. What is England without Ireland, and what is Ireland without the Catholics? It is on the basis of yoor tyranny Napoleon bopea to build his own. So grateful must oppression of the Catholics be to his mind, that doubtless (as he has lately permitted some renewal of intercourse) the next cartel will convey to this country of Sevres china and blue ribands, (things in great request, and of equal value at this moment,) blue ribands of the legion of honour for Dr. Duigenan and his minis- terial disciples. Such is that well-earned popularity, the result of those extraordinary expeditions, so expensive to ourselves, and so useless to our allies ; of those singular Inquiries, so exculpatory to the accused andsodissati - factory to the people; of those paradoxical victories, so !i 11 Durable, as we are told, to the British name, and so destructive to the best interests of the British nation ; above all, such is the reward of a conduct pursued by nnnistera towards the Catholics. I have to apologize to the House, who will, I trust, pardon one, not often in the habit of intruding upon their in lutgence, for so long attempting to engage their atten- tion. My most decided opinion is, as my vote will be, m favour of the motion. DEBATE OS MAJOR CARTWRtCHTS PETITION, JUNE 1, 1613. Mt Lords — The Petiuon which I now hold for the purpose of presenting to the House, is one which I humbly conceive requires the particular attention of your lordships, inasmuch as, though signed but by a single individual, it contains statements which (if not disproved) demand most serious investigation. The grievance of which the petitioner complains is neither selfish nor imaginary. It is not his own only, for it has been, and is siill felt by numbers. No one without these walls, nor indeed within, but may to-morrow be made liable to the* same insult and obstruction, in the discharge of an im- perious duty for the restoration of the true constitution of these realms by petitioning for reform in parliament. The petitioner, my Lords, is a man whose long life has been spent in one unceasing struggle for the liberty of the subject, against that undue influence which "has in- creased, is increasing, and ought to be diminished;" and, whatever difference of opinion mav exist as to his politi- cal tenets, few will be found to question the integrity of his intentions. Even now, oppressed with years, and not exempt from the infirmities attendant on his age, but still unimpaired in talent, and unshaken in spirit— "fran^as non jUctes" — he has received many a wound in the combat against corruption : and the new grievance, the fresh insult of which he complains, may inflict another scar, but no dishonour. The petition is signed by John Cartwright, and it was in behalf of the people and par- liament, in the lawful pursuit of that reform in the representation which is the best service to be rendered both to parliament and people, that he encountered the wanton outrage which forms the subject matter of his petition to your lordships. It is couched in firm, yet respectful language — in the language of a man, not ro gardless of what is due to himself, but at the same time I trust, equally mindful of the deference to be paid to this House. The petitioner states, among other mat- ter of equal, if not greater importance, to all who are British in their feelings, as well as blood and birth, that on the 21st January, 1813, at Huddersfield, himself and six other persons, who, on hearing of his arrival, had waited on him merely as a testimony of respect, were seized by a military and civil force, and kept in closo custody for several hours, subjected to gross and abusive nsinuations from the commanding officer relative to the character of the petitioner; that he (ihe petitioner) was finally carried before a magistrate ; and not released fill an examination of his papers proved that there was not only no just, but not even statutable charge against him ; and that, notwithstanding the promise and order from tho presiding magistrates of a copy of the warrant against vour petitioner, it was afterwards withheld on divers pre- texts, and has never until this hour been granted. The names and condition of the parties will be found in the petition. To the other topics touched upon in the peu> tion, I shall not now advert, from a wish not to encroach upon the time of the House ; but I do most sincerely call the attention of your lordships to its general con- ten's— it is in the cause of the parliament and people that the rights of this venerable freeman have been vio- lated, and it is, in my opinion, the highest mark of respect that could be paid to the House, that to your justice, rather than by appeal to any inferior court, he now com- mits himself. Whatever may be the fate of his remon- strance, it is some satisfaction to me, though mixed with regret for the occasion, that I have this opportunity of publicly sta'ing the obstruction to which the subject is iable, in the prosecution of the most lawful and imperious of his duties, the obtaining by petition reform in parlia- ment. I have shortly stated his complaint ; the petitioner has more fully expressed it. Your lordships will, I hope, adopt some measure fully to protect and redress him, and not him atone, hut the whole body of the people insulted and aggrieved in his person by the interposi- tion of an abused civil, and unlawful military force, be- tween them and their right of petiuon to their own representatives. His lordship then presented the petition from Major Cartwright, which was read, complaining of the circum- stances at HuddersCeld, and of interruptions given to the right of petitioning, in several places in the northern parts of the kingdom, and which his lordship moved should be laid on tho table. 284 A FRAGMENT. Sevcr.il Lords having spoken mi the ijnrstinti, LORD BYRON replied, that he had, from m a of duty, presented ton petition to their lordships' oonaidera- llOn, The noble Karl had contended that it was not a petition bul ■ speech; and that, as it contained no prayer, it should not be received. What was the necessity of a prayci ? It" that word were to be used in its proper sense, their lordships could nut expect that any man should pray to others. He had only to say that the pt-iuiou, though in some parts expressed strongly perhaps, did not contain any improper mode of address, but was couched in respectful language towards their lordships ; he should therefore trust their lordships would allow the petition to be received. A FRAGMENT. June 17,1816. In die year 17 — , having for some time determined on a journey through countries ool hitherto much frequented by travellers, I set out, aceompamed by a friend whom I shall designate by the name of Augustus Darvell. He was a few years my elder, and a man of considerable for- tune and ancient family — advantages which an extensive capacity prevented him alike from undervaluing or over' rating. Some peculiar circumstances in his private his - lory had rendered him to mean c>li|<«l uf attention, of interest, ami even of regard, which neither the re erve jis manners, nor occasional indications of an ini|uietude at Vines nearly approaching to alienation of numi, could extinguish. I was yet young in life, which I had begun early ; but my intimacy with him was of a recent date: we had been educated at the same schools and university ; but his pro- gress through these had preceded mine, and he had been deeply initiated into what is called the world, while I was yet in my noviciate. While thus engaged, I had heard much both of his past and present life; and, although in these accounts there were many and irreconcilable con- tradictions, I could still gather from the whole that he was a being of no common order, and one who, whatever pains he might take to avoid remark, would still he remarkable. [ had cultivated his acquaintance subsequently, and en- "leavoured to obtain hi- friendship, but this last appeared to be unattainable; whatever affections he might have possessed seemed now, some to have been extinguished, and others to be concentred: thai his feelings wire acute, I had sufficient opportunities of observing; for, all] eh he could control, he could not altogether disguise them: still he had a power of giving to one passion the appear- ance of another in such a maimer that it was difficult to define the nature of what was working within him; and lbs expressions ofhis features would vary bo rapidly; though slightly, that it was useless to trace them to theii It was evident that he was a prey to some cureless dis- quiet ; but whether it arose from ambition, love, remorse, grief) from one or all of these, or men l\ I mm a morbid tem- perament akin to disease, I could not discover: there were circumstances alleged which might have justified the a|»- plication to each of these causes; but, as I have before said, these were so contradictory and contradicted, that none could be fixed upon with accuracy. Where there is mystery, it is generally supposed that there must also be evil: I know not how this may he, hut in him there certainly was the one, though I could not ascertain the extent of the other — and felt loth, as far as regarded him- self, to believe in its existence. My advances were re- ceived with sufficient coldness ; but I was young, and not easily discouraged, and at length succeeded in obtaining, to a OBCtuin decree, that commonplace intercourse and moderate confidence of common and every-day concern created and cemented by similarity of pursuit and fr* quencv of meeting which is called intimacy, or friendship according to the ideas of him who uses those words U express itlelii. DarveD had already travelled extensively, and to him I had applied f>r information with regard to the conduct of my intended journey. It was my secret wish that he might be prevailed on to accompany me: it was also a probable hope, founded upon the shadowy restlessness which I had observed in him, and to which the animation which he appeared to fed on such subjects, and his appa- rent indifference to all by which he was more inuxu surrounded, gave fresh strength. This wish I lirst hinted, and then expressed: his answer, though 1 had partly ex- pected it, gave me all the pleasure of surprint — he con- sented; and, after the requisite arrangements, we com- menced our voyages. After journeying through various countries of the soudi of Kurope, our attention was turned towards die east, according to our original destination; and it was in my progress through those regions that the incident occurred upon which will turn what I may have ts relate. The constitution of Darvell, which must, from his ap- pearance, have been in early life more than usually robust had been for some time gradually giving way, without the intervention of any apparent disease: he had neither, COUgh nor hectic, yet he became daily more enfeebled his habits were temperate, and he neither declined nor complained ot tally lie, yet he \\a- evident U wasting away he became more ami more silent and sleepless, and al length so seriously altered, that my alarm gTBW proportion- ate to what I roneeived hi he his danger. We had determined, on our arrival at Smyrna, on an Kcursion to the ruins ofEpheeus and Sardis, from which l endi avoured to dissuade him, in bis present stale ofh> Usposition — but in vain: dure appeared to be an oppres jion on his mind, and a solemnity in his manner, which ill corresponded with Ins eagerness to proceed on what I regarded as a mere party of pleasure, little suited to a valetudinarian ; but I opposed him no longer — and in u few days we set off together, accompanied only by a seirugee and a single janizary. We had passed half-way towards the remains of Ephe- sus, leaving behind us the more fertile environs of Smyrna, and were entering upon that wild and tenantlesfl trark through the marshes and defiles which lead to the few huts yet lingering over the broken columns of Diana — the roof- less walls of expelled Christianity, and die still more recent but complete desolation of abandoned mosques- — when the sudden and rapid illness of my companion obliged us to halt at a Turkish cemetery, the turbancd tombstones of which were the sole indication that human hie had evei A FRAGMENT. 235 been a sojourner in tlus wilderness. The only caravan- sera we had seen was lefl some hours behind us ; not a vestige of a town or even cottage, was wiihiu sight or nope, and this "city of the dead'' appeared to be the sole refuge for my unfortunate friend, who seemed on the verge of becoming the last of its inhabitants. In this situation, I looked round for a place where he might most conveniently repose: — contrary to the usual aspect of Mahometan bunal-grounds, the cypresses were in this few in number, and these thinly scattered over its extent: the tombstones were mostly fallen, and worn with age : upon one of the most considerable of these, and be- neath one of the most spreading trees, Darvell supported himself, in a half-reclining posture, with great difficulty. He asked f jr water. 1 had some doubts of our being able to find any, and prepared to go in search of it with hesita- ting despondency — but he desired me to remain; and, turning to Suleiman, our janizary, who stood by us smoking with great tranquillity, he said, " Suleiman, verbana su," (i. e. brill.- some water,) and went on describing the spot where it was to be found with great minuteness, at a small well for camels, a few hundred yards to the right : the janizary obeyed. I said to Darveil, " How did you know tins.'" — He replied, "From our situation; you must per- ceive that this place was once inhabited, and could not have beenso without springs:] have also been here before." " You have been here before ! — How came you never to mention this to me ? and what could you be doing in a place where no one would remain a moment longer than they could help it ?" To this question I received no answer. In the mean time, Suleiman returned with the water, leaving the ser- rugee and the horses at the fountain. The quenching of his ihirst had the appearance of reviving him for a mo- ment ; and I conceived hopes of his being able to proceed, or at least to return, and I urged the attempt. He was silent — and appeared to be collecting his spirits for an effort to speak. He began. "This is the end of my journey, and of my life — I came here to die : but I have a request to make, a command — for such my last words must be. — You will observe it ?" "Most certainly; but have better hopes." 'I have no hopes, nor wishes, but this — conceal my death irom every human being." " I hope there will be no occasion ; that you will re- cover, and " "Peace! it must be so: promise this." "Ido." « Swear it by all that" He here dictated an oath of great solemnity. " There is no occasion for this — I will observe your re- quest ; and to doubt me is " " It cannot be helped, you must swear." 1 took the oath : it appeared to relieve him. He re- moved a seal-ring from his finger, on which were some Arabic characters, and presented it to me . He proceeded— "On the ninth day of the month, at noon precisely, (what month you please, but this must be the day.) you must Ring this ring into the salt springs which run into the Hay of Eleusig: the day after, at the same hour, you must repair to the ruins of the temple of Ceres, and wail one hour." "Why?" "Y'ou will see." "The ninth day of the month, you say?" "The nmth.' ' As I observed that the present was the ninth day of the monUi, his countenance changed, and he paused. As he sate, evidently becoming more feeble, a stork, with a snake in her beak, perched upon a tombstone near us ; an J, with- out devouring her prey, appeared to be steadfastly regard- ing us. I know not what impelled me to drive it away, but the attempt was useless; she made a few circles in the air, and returned exactly to the same spot. Darvell pointed to it, and smiled: he spoke — I know not whether to himself or to me — but the words were only,"Tis well!" " What is well ? what do you mean ?" "No matter: you must bury me here this evening, and exactly where that bird is now perched. Y'ou know the rest of my injunctions." He then proceeded to give me several directions as to the manner in which his death might be best concealed. After these were finished, he exclaimed, " Y'ou perceive that -bird ?" "Certain'v." "And the serpent writhing in her beak ?" "Doubtless: there is nothing uncommon in it; it is her natural prey. But it is odd that she does not devour il." He smiled in a ghastly manner and said, faintly, " It is not vet time!" As he spoke, the stork flew away. My eves followed it for a moment : it could hardly be longer than ten might be counted. I fell Darvell's weight, as it were, increase upon my shoulder, and, turning to look upon his face, perceived that he was dead ! I was shocked with the sudden certainty which could not be mistaken — his countenance in a few minutes be- came nearly black. I should have attributed so rapid a change to poison, had I not been aware that he had no opportunity of receiving it unperceived. The day was declining, the body was rapidly altering, and nothing re- mained but to fulfil his request. With the aid of Sulei- man's ataghan and my own sabre, we scooped a shallow grave upon the spot which Darvell had indicated : the earth easily save wav, having already received some Ma- hometan tenant. We dug as deeply as the time per- mitted us, and throwing the dry earth upon all that remained of the singular being so lately departed, we cut a few sods of greener turf from the less withered sod around us, and laid them upon his sepulchre. Between astonishment and grief, 1 was tearless. LETTER TO JOHN MURRAY ON THE REV. W. L. BOWLES'S STRICTURES OH THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF POPE. I 'II play ai Bottle* wuh [tit tun and moon. OLD SONG. My mithf r '» atild, ilr, ami she hai rather forgotten henw 11 In ■peaking '" •">' Ledflffi ll,at camta wed bide to be conn tdleklt, (n» I ken n.iei"«ly likei il If tlirv coul.l ht-ly themteila.) TALKS OP MY LANDLORD, Old Mortality, ml. U. Ravenna, February 1th, 1821. Dear Sir, Is the different pamphlets which you have had the goodness to send me, on the Pope and Bowles' contro- versy, I perceive that my name is occasionally introduced by both parties. Mr. Bowles refers more than once to what he is pleased to consider "a remarkahle circum- stance," not only in his tetter to Mr. Campbell, but in his reply to the Quarterly. The Quarterly also and Mr. Gilchrist have conferred on me the dangerous honour of. a quotation ; and Mr. Bowles indirectly makes a kind .it' appeal to me personally, by Baying Lord Byron, i/ he remembers the circumstance, will unfneM — (witness in italic, an ominous character for a testimony at pre- sent.)* I shall not avail myself of a "non mi ricordo" even after so long a residence in Italy ; — I do " remember th< circumstance" — and have no reluctance to relate it (since called upon so to do) as correctly as the distance of time and the impression of intervening events will permit me. In the year 181'2, more than three years after the publica- tion of " Knghsh Bards and Scotch Reviewers," I had the honour of mooting Mr. Bowles in the house of our vene- rable host of u Human Life, etc." the last Argonaut of Classic English poetry, and the Nestor of our inferior race of living poets. Mr, Bowles calls this "soon after"' the publication ; but to me three years appear a consi- derable segment of the immortality of a modern poem 1 recollect nothing of "the rest of the company going into another room*' — nor, though I well remember the topogra- phy of our host's elegant and classically-furnished man- sion, could I swear to the very room where the conversa- tion occurred, though the "taking down the poem" seems to fix it in the library. Had it been " taken up," it would probably have Iwen in the drawing-room. I presume *lso that the " remarkahle circumstance"' took place after dinner, as I conceive that neither Mr. Bowles's politeness nor appetite would have allowed him to detain " the rest of the company" standing round their chairs in the u other room" while we were discussing "the Woods of Madei- ra" instead of circulating its vintage. Of Mr. Bowles's " good-humour" ] have a full and not ungrateful recoUec- tion ; as also of his gentlemanly manners and agreeable conversation. I speak of the whole, and not of particu- lars ; for whether he did or did not use the precise words printed in the pamphlet, I cannot say, nor could he with accuracy. Of " the tone of seriousness" I certainly recollect nothing : on the contrary, I thought Mr. Bowles rather disposed to treat the subject lightly ; for he said (I have no objection to be contradicted if incorrect) that ■ H* alht.Ua to Ma|occhl ( aud lha other li&llan wilnti some of his good-natured friends had come to him anu exclaimed, " Kh ! Bowles ! how came yon to make the- Woods of Madeira," etc. etc. an' 1 that he had been at some pains and pulling down of tiie poem to convince them that he had never made "the Woods* do any thing of the kind. He was right, and / uvw wrong", and have been wrong still up to this acknowledgment ; fori ought to have looked twice l>« tore I wrote that which involv- d an inaccuracy capable of giving pain. The fact was, that although I had certainly before read "(Tie Spirit of Dis- covery," I took the quotation from tlte review. Bui the mistake was mine, and nol the r« icia*s, which quoted the passage correctly enough, I believe. I blundered— God knows how — into attributing the tremors of the lovers to the " Woods of Madeira," by which they were sur- rounded. And I hereby do fully and freely declare and asseverate, that the Woods did not tremble to a kiss, and that Uic lovers did. I quote from memory — A kiai Stole on ihe liat'ttmp silence, etc. elc. Tliey (the lovcra) trembled, even ai if (he power, etc. And if I had been aware that this declaration would have been in the smallest degree satisfactory to Mr. Bowie-., I should not have waited nine years to make it, notwith- standing that "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers" had been suppressed some time previously to my meeting him at Mr. Rogers's. Our worthy host might indeed have told him as much, as it was at his representation that I suppressed it. A new edition of tJiat lampoon was preparing for the press, when Mr. Rogers represented to me, that "I was now acquainted with many of the per- sons mentioned in it, anil with some on terms of inti- macy;" and that he knew "one family in particular to whom its suppression would give pleasure," I did not hesitate one moment; it was cancelled msiantly; and it is no fault of mine that it has ever been republished When [ left England, in April, 1816, with no very violent intentions of troubling that country again, and amidst scenes of various kinds to distract my attention — almost my last act, I believe, was to sign a power of attorney, to yourself, to prevent or suppress any attempts {of which everal had been made in Ireland) at a republication. It s proper that I should state, that the persons with whom I was subsequently acquainted, whose names had occur- red in that publication, were made my acquaintances at their own desire, or through the unsought intervention of others. I never, to the best of my knowledge, sought a personal introduction to any. Some of them to this day I know only by correspondence ; and with one of those it was begun bv mvself.in consequence, however, of a polite ■erbal communication from a third person. I have dwelt for an instant on these c ^umstanevs ON BOWLES'S STRICTURES ON POPE. 2S7 because it has sometimes been made a subject of bitter reproach to me to have endeavoured to suppress that satire. I never shrunk, as those who know me know, from any personal consequences which could be attached 10 its publication. Of its subsequent suppression, as I possessed the copyright, I was the best judge and the sole master. The circumstances which occasioned the sup- pression I have now stated; of the motives, each must judge according to his candour or malignity. Mr. Bowles does me the honour to talk of " noble mind," and " gene- rous maniannmly J* and all this because "the circumstance would have been explained had not tlie book been sup- pressed.' 1 I see no " nobility of mind" in an act of sim- tice ; and I hate the word "magnanimity" because I have sometimes seen it applied to the grossest of impos- the greatest of fools : but I would have "explained tli> circumstance,* notwithstanding "the suppression of the bonk," if Mr. Bowles had expressed any desire that I should. As the "gallant GalbraiuY'saysto" Baillie Jar- V.-ll, the devil take the mistake and all that occa- sion. -,\ it" I have had as great and greater mistakes made about me personally and poetically, once a month for these last ten years, and never cared very much about t orrecting one or the other, at least after the first eight- ;..l I -forty hours had gone over them. I must now, however, say a word or two about Pope, of whom win have my opinion more at larse in the unpub- li d li ier on or to (for I forget which) the editor of * Blackwo < Js Edinburgh Magazine ;" — and here I doubt that Mr. Bowles will no\ approve of ray sentiments. Although I regret having published "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers," the part which I regret the least is 'hat which regards Mr. Bowles with reference to Pope. Whilst I was writing that publication, in 1807 and 1808, Mr. Hobhouse was desirous that I should express our mutual opinion of Pope, and of Mr. Bowles's edition of his works. As I had completed mv outline, and felt lazy, I requested that he would do so. He did it. His fourteen lines on Bowles's Pope are in the first edition of " Eng- lish Bards and Scotch Reviewers f and are quite as severe and much more poetical than my own in the second. On reprinting the work, as I put my name to it, I omitted Mr. Hobhouse's lines, and replaced them with mv own, by which the work trained less than Mr. Bowles. I have stated this in the preface to the second edition. It is many years since I have read that poem ; but the Quarterly Review, Mr. Octavius Gilchrist, and Mr. Bowles himseIC have been so obliging as to refresh my memory, and that of the public. I am grieved to say, that in reading over those lines, I repent of their having so far fallen short of what I meant to express upon the sub- ject of Bowles's edition of Pope's Works. Mr. Bowie savs that " Lord Byron knows he does not deserve this character." I know no such thing. I have met Mr. Bowles occasionally, in the best society in London ; he appeared to me an amiable, well-informed, and extremely able man. I desire nothing better than to dine in com- pany with such a mannered man every day in the week : but of "his character" I know nodung personally; I can only speak of his manners, and these have my warmest approbation. But I never jud^e from manners, for I once had mv pocket picked by the civilest gentleman I ever met with ; and .' It was so even by the appearance of any merchant Vessel arriving from Odessa. But Mr. Bowles says, "why bring your ship off the stocks ?'' for no reason that I know, except that ships are built to be launched. The water, etc. undoubtedly heightens the poetical associa- tions, but it does not make them ; and ihe ship amply repays die obligation: they aid each other; the water is more poetical with the ship — the ship less so without the water. But even a ship, laid up in dock, is a grand and poetical sight. Even an old boat, keel upwards, wrecked upon the barren sand, is a " poetical" object, (and Words- worth, who made a poein about a washing-tub and a blind boy, may tell you so as well as I ;) whilst a long extent of sand and unbroken water, without the boat, would be as like dull prose as any pamphlet lately published. What makes the poetry in the image of the " marble waste of TiMlmor," or Grainger's "Ode to Solitude," so much admired by Johnson ? Is it the " marble" or the ■ waste," the artificial or the natural object'.' The "waste" is like all other wastes; but the "marble" of Palmyra makes the poetry of the passage as of the place. The beautiful but barren Hymettus, the whole coast of Attica, her hills and mountains, Pentelicus, Anchesmus. Philopappus, etc. etc. are in themselves poetical, and nould be so if the name of Athens, of Athenians, and aer very ruins, wye swept from the earth. But am I 37 tx> be told that the "nature" of Attica would be more poetical wi houl the "art" of the Acropolis? of the Tem- ple of Theseus? and of the still all Greek and glorious monuments of her exquisitely artificial genius? Ask tho traveller what strikes him as in fit poetical, the Parthe- non, or the rock on which if stands ? The columns of Cape Colonna, or the Cape ilaotfJ The rocks, at the foot of it, or the rocollec.ion that Falconer's ship was bulged upon them. There are a thousand rocks and capes, t'.tr more picturesque than those of the Acropolis and Cape Sutiiuni in themselves ; what are they to a thousand scenes in the wilder parts of Greece, of Asia Minor, Switzerland, or even of (intra in Portugal, or to many scenes of Italy, and the Sierras of Spam ? But it is the * art," the columns, the temples, the wrecked vessel, which give them their antique and their modern poetry and no- the spots themselves. Without them, the spots of earth would be unnoticed and unknown; huiied, like Babylon and Nineveh, in indistinct confusion, without poetry, as without existence: but to whatever spot af earth these ruins were transported, u" they were capable of transportation, like the obelisk, and the sphinx, and tho Memnon's head, there they would still exist in the perfec- tion of their beauty, and in the pride of their poetry. I opposed, and will ever oppose, the robbery of ruins from Athens, to instruct the English in sculpture ; but why did I so ? The ruins are as poetical in Piccadilly as they were in the Parthenon ; but the Parthenon and its rock are less so without them. Such is the poetry of art. Mr. Bowles contends, again, that the pyramids of Egvpl are poetical, because of " the association with boundless deserts," and that a " pyramid of the same dimensions" would not be sublime in "Lincoln's Inn Fields ;" not so poetical, certainly ; but take away Ihe "pyramids," and what is the "desert?" Take away Stone-henge from Salisbury plain, and it is nothing more than Hounslow Heath, or any other unenclosed down. It appears to me that St. Peter's, the Coliseum, the Pan theon, the Palatine, the Apollo, the Laocoon, the Ver.us di Medicis, the Hercules, the dying Gladiator, the Moses of Michael Angelo, and all the higher works of Canova, (I have already spoken of those of ancient Greece, still extant in ihat coin-try, or transported to England,) are as poetical as .Mont Blanc or Mount iESna, perhaps still t -a so, as they are direct manifestations of mind, and presuppose poetry Ul their very conception; and have, moreover, as being such, a something of actual life, which cannot belong to any part of inanimate nature. Unless we adopt the system of Spinosa, that the world is the deity. There can be nodiing more poetical in its aspect than the city of Venice : does this depend upon the sea, or the canals ? — " The dirt ami leaweeil wlience proud Venice roeel" Is it the canal which runs between the palace and the prison, or the " Bridge of Sighs" w hich connects them, that render it poetical ? Is it the " Canal Grande," or the Rialto which arches it, the churches which tower over it, the palaces which line, and the gondolas which glide over the wa'ers, that render this city more poetical than Rome itself? Mr. Bowles will say, perhaps, that the Kialtn is but marble, the palaces and churches only stone, and the gondolas a " coarse" black cloth, thrown over some planks of carved wood, with a shining bit of fantastieallv-fornied iron at the prow, "without" tho water. And I tell him that without these the water would be nothing but a clay-coloured ditch, and who- ever savs the contrary, deserves to be at the bottom of that where Pope's heroes are embraced by the mud- nvmphs. There would be nothing to make the canal of Venice more poetical than that of Paddington, were it not for the artificial adjuncts above mentioned, although it is a perfectly natural canal, formed by the sea, and the innumerable islands which constitute the site of this extraordinary city. 290 ON BOWLES'S STRICTURES ON POPE. The very Cloacae of Tarquin at Rome are as poetical as Richmond Hill ; many wril think more so. Take away Rome, and leave the Tiber and the seven hills, in the nature of Evander's time ; let Mr. Bowles, or Mr. Wordsworth, or Mr. Southey, or any of the other "na- turals," make a poem upon them, and then see which is most poetual, their production or the commonest guide- booh which tells you the road from St. Petert to the < 'olis< um, ati' I informs you what you will see by the way. The ground interests in Virgil, because it w/i be Rome, and not because il is Evanders rural domain. Mr. Bowles then proceeds to press Homer into hi.* service, in answer to a remark of Mr, Campbel "Homer was a great deseriber of works of art." Mr. Bowles contends, that all his great power, even in tins, depends upon their connexion with nature. The "shield of Achilles derives its poetical interest from the sub described on it." And from what does the spear of Achilles derive its interesl ? and the helmet and the mail worn by Patroclus, and the celestial armour, and the very brazen greaves of the well-booted Greeks? [s i; solely from the legs, and the ba< k, and the breast, and (he human body, which they enclose '. In that case, il would have been more poetical to have made them 6ghl naked ; and Gully and Gregson, as being nearer to a state of nature, are more poetical, boxing in a pair of drawers, than Hector and Achillea in radiant armour, and with heroic weapons. Instead of the clash of helmets, and the rushing of chariots, and die whizzing of spears, and the glancing of RWPrds, and the cleaving of shields, and the .piercing of breastplates, why not represenl the I rreeks and Trojans like twit savage tribes, tugging and tearing, and kicking and biting, and gnashing, foaming, grinning, and goug n ■. in all the poetry of martial nature, unincumbered with gross, prosaic, artificial arms, an equal superfluity to the natural warrior, and his natural port ? Is there any thing unpoetical in Ulysses" striking the horses of Rhesus with hit Iimr, (having forgotten his thong,) or would Mr. Bowles have had him kick them with lus foot, or smack them with his hand, as beng more unsophisticated? In Gray's Elegy, is there an image more stril ing than his " shapeless sculpture /'' Of sculpture in general, i 1 maybe observed, that it is more poetical than nature itself, inasmuch as it represents and bodies forth thai ideal beL»ity and sublimity which is never to be found in actual nature. This at least is the general opinion ; but, always excepting the Venus di Medicis, I differ from thai opinion, al least aa far as regards female beaut v, for the head of Lady Charlcmont (when I first saw her, nine years ago) seemed to possess all that sculpture could require for its ideal. I recollect seeing something of the same kind in the head of an Albanian girl, who was actually employed in mending a road in the mountains, and in some Greek; and one or two Italian faces. But of ftuhliunty, 1 have never seen any thing in human nature at all to approach the expression of sculpture, either in the Apollo, the Moses, or other of the sterner works of ancient or modern art. Let us examine a little further this " babble of green fields," and of hair na'nre in general, as SUD4 nor to arti- ficial imagery, for the poetical purposes of the line arts. In landscape painting, the greai artist does not give VOU a literal copy of a country, but he invents ml composes one. Nature, in her actual aspect, does not furnish him with such existing scenes as he requires. Even where he presents vou with some famous cilv, or celebrated scene from mountain OT'other nature, it must be taken from some particular point of view, and with such light, ami shade, and distance, etc, as serve not only to heighten its beauties, but to shadow its def trinities. The poetry of nature alone, exactly as she appears, is not sufficient to bear him out. The very sky of his painting is not the portrait of the sky of nature ; it is a composition of diffe- rcnt Rfete*, observed at different times, and not the whole copied from any particular day. And why? Because Nature is not lavish of her beauties; they are widely scattered, and occasionally displayed, to be selected wall care, ind gathered with difficulty. i tf sculpture I have just spoken. It is the greed scope of the sculptor to heighten nature into heroic beauty, i. e. in plain English, to surpass his model. When Canova firms a statue, he takes a limb from one, a hand from another, a feature from a third, and a shape, it may be, H mi u fourth, probably at the same tune improving upon all, as the < rreck of old did in ombodying Ins Venus* Ask a portrait painter to describe his agonies in accom- he faces With which Nature and his sitters have crowded his painting-room to the principles of Ins art; with the exception of perhaps ten faces m as many mil- lions, there is not one which he COD t enture to give with- out shading much and adding more. Nature, exactly, simply, barely nature, will make no great artist of any kind, and least of all a poet — die most artificial, perhaps, of all artists in his very essence. With regard to natural imagery, the poets are obliged to take some of their best illustrations from art. Vou say that "a fountain is as clear or clearer than gUusf to express Us beauty— " Com Ruiit1 ailor's description of the sailor's fate. These very trmix, by his application, make the strength and reality of his poem. Why? because he was n poof, ami in the hands ON BOWLES'S STRICTURES ON POPE. 291 ot t a poet art will not bo found less ornamental than nature It is precisely in general nature, and in stepping out of his element, that Falconer fails; where he digresses tu speak of ancient Greece, and "such branches of learning." In Dyer^s Grongar Hill, upon which his fame rests, the very appearance of Nature herself is moralized into an artificial linage : " Thus is Nature's vettttre wrought, To instruct uur wandering thought ; T'-us she dresse* green and guy, 1 n disperse uur cure* away." And here also we have the telescope, the misuse of which, from Milton, has rendered Mr. Bowles so tri- umphant over Mr. Campbell: " So we mistake the future's face, Eyed through Hnue's deluding g!as»." And here a word, en passant, to Mr. Campbell : " A» you summits, soft ntid fair, Cliul in colours of the air, Which, tu (hose wIli journey near, Uarreu, brown, and rough appear, Siil I we tread the sume coarse way— Tht present's still a cloudy duy." Is not this the original of the far-famed, " *T l> distance lends enchantment to the view, And robeJ the mouuula in its azure hue I" To return once more to the sea. Let any one look on the long naUof Malainocco, which curbs the Adriatic, and pronounce between the sea and its master. Surely that Roman work, (I mean Annan ill conception and perform- ance,) which says to the ocean, " thus far shah thou come, and no further," and is obeyed, is not less sublime and poetical than the angry waves which vamly break be- Death It. Mr. Bowles makes the chief part of a ship's poesy depend on the " wind :" then why is a ship under sail more poetical than a hog in a high wind ? The hog is all nature, lii.- ship is all art, "coarse canvas," " blue bunting," and "tall poles;" both are violently acted upon by the wind, lossed here and there, to and fro; and yet nothing but excess of hunger could make me look upon the pig as the more poetical of the two, and then only in the shape of a griskin. Wiil Mr. Bowles tell us that the poetry of an aqueduct consists in die water which it conveys? Let hun Look on thai of Justinian} on those of Rome, Constantinople, Lisbon, and Elvas, or even at the remains of Uiat in Attica. We are asked "what makes the venerable towers of Westminster Abbey more poetical, as objects, than the tower fir the manufactory of patent shot, surrounded by the same scenery '" I will answer — the architecture. Turn Westminster Abbey, or Saint Paul's, into a powder magazine, their poetry, as objects, remains the same; the Parthnnon was actually converted into one by the Turks, during Morusini's Venetian siege, and part of it destroyed in consequence. Cromwell's dragoons stalled their steeds in Worcester cathedral; was it less poetical, as an ob- ject, 'ban before ? Ask a foreigner on his approach to London, what strikes bun as the most poetical of the lowers before bun ; he will point out St. Paul's and West- minster Abbey, without, perhaps, knowing the names or associations of either, and pass over the "tower for patent shot,* 1 not ihat,for anv thing he knows to the contrary, i I anight not be the mausoleum of a monarch, or a Waterloo column, or a Trafalgar monument, but because its archi- tecture is obviously inferior. To Ihe question, " whether ihe description of a game of cards be as poetical, supposing the execution of Ihe artists equal, as a description of a walk in a forest ?" it may be answered, that the materials are certainly not equal ; but that "the artist? who has rendered the "game of cards poetical)" is by far the greater of the two. But all this "ordering" of poets is purely arbitrary on the part of Mr. Bywles. There may or may not be, in fact, dilFerent * orders" of poetry, utthe poet Lb always ranked according to his execution, and not according tu his branch of the art. Tragedy is one of the highest presumed orders. Hughes has written a tragedy, and a very successful one; Fenton another; and Pope none. Did any man, however, — will even Mr. Bowles himself rank Hughes and Fenton as poets above Pope'? Was even Addison, (the author of Cato,) or Rowe (one of the higher order of dramatists, as far as success goes,) or Young, or even Otway and Southerne, ever raised for a moment to the same rank with Pope in the estimation of the reader or the critic, before his deadi or since? If Mr. Bowles will contend for classifications of this kind, let him recollect that descriptive poetry has been ranked as among the lowest branches of the art, and description as a mere ornament, but which should never form " the subject" of a poem. The Italians, with the most poetical language, and the most fastidious taste in Europe, possess now five great poets, they say, Dante, Petrarch, Ariosto,Tasso, and lastly Allien ; and whom do they esteem one of the highest of these, and some of them the very highest? Petrarch, the sonnetteer : it is true that some of his Canzoni are nut less esteemed, but not more; who ever dreams of his Latin Africa? Were Petrarch to he ranked according to the " order" of Ins compositions, where would the best of sonnets place him? with Dante and the others? No: but, as I have before said, the poet who executes best is the highest, what- ever his department, and will ever be so rated in the world's esteem. Had Gray written nothing but his Elegy, high as he stands, I am not sure that he would not stand higher; it is the corner-stone of his glory ; without it, his odes would be insufficient for his fame. The depreciation of Pope is partly founded upon a false idea of the dignity nf his order of poetry, to which he has partly contributed by the in genuous boast, " That not in fancy's mare he wander'd long, But sloap'd to truth, and moralized his song." He should have written " rose to truth." In my mind, the highest of aJi poetry is ethical poetry, as the highest of all earthly objects must be moral truth. Religion does not make a part of my subject ; it is something beyond human powers, and has failed in all human hands except Milton's and Dante's, and even Dante's powers are involved in the delineation of human passions, though in supernatural cir- cumstances. What made Socrates the greatest of men'' His moral trulh — his eilucs. What proved Jesus Christ the Son of God hardly less than his miracles ? His moral precepts. And if ethics have made a philosopher the first of men, and have not been disdained as an adjunct to his gospel by the Deity himself, are we to be told that ethical poetry, or didactic poetry, or by whatever name you term it, whose object is to make men better and wiser, is not the very Jirst order of poetry ? and are we to be told this too by one of the priesthood? It requires more mind, more wisdom, more power, than all the "forests" that ever were "walked" for their " description," and all the epics that ever were founded upon fields of battle. The Georgics are indisputably, and, I believe, uivhsputedly, even a finer poem than the ./Eneid. Virgil knew this ; he did not order them to be burnt. " The proper study of mankind is man." It is the fashion of the day to lay great stress upon what ihey call "imagination 11 and "invention," the two cotn- mnnesl of qualities: an Irish peasant, with a little whUky in his head, will imagine and invent more than would fur- nish forth a modern poem. If Lucretius had not been spoiled hv the Epicurean system, we should have had a far superior poem to any now in existence. As mere poetry, it is the first of Latin poems. What then has ruined it ? His ethics. Pope has not this defect ; his moral is as pure as his poetrv is glorious. In speaking of arti- ficial objects, I have omitted to touch upon one which I will now mention. Cannon may be presumed to be as 292 ON BOWLES'S STRICTURES ON POPE. highly poetical bs an can make her abject** Mr. Bowie* will, perhaps, tell me thai this is became they resemble that grand natural article of sound in heaven, and simile upon earth — thunder. I shall be told triumphantly, thai Milton made sa-' BS absurd (and in fact, blasphemous) in putting material lightnings into the hands of llie Godhead as in giving him hands at all. The artillery of the demons was but the first step of his mistake, the thunder the next, and it is a step lower. Tt would have been fit for Jove, but not for Jehovah. The subject altogether was essentially unpoeticsJ ; he has made more of it than another could, but it is beyond htm and all men. In a portion of his reply, Mr. Bowles asserts that Pope * envied Phillips" because he quizzed his pastorals in the Guardian, in that most admirable model of irony,! his paper on the subject. If there was any thing envi- able about Phillips, it could hardly be his pastorals They were despicable, and Pope expressed his contempt. If Mr. Fitzgerald published a volume of sonnets, or a "Spirit of Discovery," or a "Missionary" and Mr. Bowles wrote in anv periodica] journal an ironical paper upon them, would this be "envy ?" The authors of the "Rejected Addresses" have ridiculed the sixteen or twenty "first living poets" of the day ; but do they " envy" them ? "Envy" Writhes, it don't laugh. The authors of the "Rejected Addresses" mav despise some, but they can hardly B eniry a anv of the persons whom they have paro- died ; and Pope could have no more envied Phillips than he did Welstedj or Theobalds, or Sinedly, or any other given hero of the Dunciad. He could not have envied him, even had he himself not been the greatest poet of hi* age. Did Mr. Lags "ran/"Mr. Phillips, when he asked him, " how came your Pyirhus to drive oxen, and say, I am goadtd on by love?" This question silenced poor Phillips; but it no more proceeded from "envv" than did Pope's ridicule. Did he envy Swift ? Did he envy Bolblgbroke? Did he envy Gay the unparalleled success of his " Beggars' Opera?" We may be answered that these were his friends — true; but does Jriandikip prevent envy? Study the first woman you meet with, or the first scribbler, let Mr. Bowles himself {whom I acquit fully of such an odious quality) study some of his own poetical intimates : the most envious man I ever heard of is a poet, and a high one ; besides it is an fcniuarsui passion* Goldsmith envied not only the pup- pets for their dancing and broke his shins in the attempt at rivalry, hut was seriously angry because two pretty women received more attention than he did. This it envy ; but where does Pope show a sign of the passion 1 In that case, Dryden envied the hero of his. Mac Fleck- noe. Mr. Bowles compares, when and where he can, Pope with Cowper, (the same Cowper whom, in his edition of Pope, he laughs at fir his attachment to an old woman, Mrs. Unwin: search and you will find it; I remember the passage, ih<>ii;»h not the page;) in parti- cular he re-quotes Cowpcr's Dutch delineation of a wood, drawn up like a seedsman's < atalngi e, + with an affected * I will «uhmit to Mr, Bow.rVl a*n ludsmenl a pause? from another poem .•! Cowper 'a, io tic ompjrtM *;tli the. nunc writer • Sylvan Sam- ple* . lu Ltie lines U> Mary, imitation of Milton's Jtyle, as burlesque as the "Splendid Shilling." These two writers (for Cowper is no poet) come into comparison in one great work — the translation of Homer. Now, with all the great, and manifest, and manifold, and reproved] and acknowledged, and uncon- troverted faults of Pope's translation, and all the scholar- ship, and pains, and tune, and trouble, and blank verse of the other, who can ever read Cowper ? and who will iv. t lay down Pope, unless for the original ? Pope's was u not Homer, it was S|>oiKlanus ;" but Cowper's is not Homer, either, it is not even Cowper. As a child I first read Pope's Homer with a rapture which no subsequent work could ever afford; and children are not the worst judges of their own language. As a boy I read Homer in the original, as we have all done, some uf us by force, and a few by favour ; under which description I come is nullum; In the purpnse, it is enough that 1 read him. As a man I have tried to read Cowper's version, and I found it impossible. Has any human reader ever succeeded? And now that we have heard the Catholic reproached llh envy, duplirity, licentiousness, avarice — what was ie Calvinist? He attempted the most atrocious of crimes m the Christian code, viz. suicide — and why? Because he was to be examined whether he was fit for an office which he seems to wish to have made a sine* cure. His connexion with Mrs. Unwin was pure enough. lor the old lady was devout, and he was deranged ; but why then is the infirm and then elderlv Pope lo be re- proved for his connexion with Martha Blount ? Cowpei was the almoner of Mrs. Throgmorton ; but Pope's chart- ties were his own, and they were noble and extensive, far beyond his fortune's warrant. Pope was the tolerant yet steady adherent of the most bigoted of seels ; and Cow. per the most bigoted and despondent sectary mat ever anticipated damnation to himself or others. Is this harsh ? I know it is, and I do not assert it as my opinion of Cow- per perstmally, but to show what might be said, wi'h just as great an appearance of truth and candour, as all the odium which has been accumulated upon Pope in similar speculations. Cowper was a good man, and lived at a fortunate time f >r his works. Mr. Bowles, apparently not relying entirely upon his own arguments, has, in person or by proxy, brought for- ward the names of Southey and Moore. Mr. Soul hey ■ agrees entirely with Mr. Bowles in his invariable prin- ciples of poetry." The least that Air. Bowles can do in return is to approve the "invariable principles of Mr. Southey." I should have thought thai the word "rrirari- " Thy needlei, once a ihinltig -.tore, For rnv «nkr restlras he ratofOK, Now run diamed, nnd thine nn more. My Mary," contain 1 tlmnle. houwhold, " tmxVior," artificial, unit ordinary Imar*. I rrfer Mi. Bowleato iln ibinM, and n\k If t heat Ihrea Unci about " - ■* ilfn" are iinl nmfth I Ml llir bOaaUl! (WnddlincabOMl tree»,»oU i. irnphant \f re-quoted? Bltdyel in fact what do they convey } A homely collection of Udiujm Hid incae aaaoctated with the darning of atocklnga, and "*■ hmiming of shirt •, and i in- irn'inlm;/ "f l.rr.-i-|n-« Uh will any urn . I- m Unit tlnv are eminently [Mttlf&l ami pathetic (is ndilr ri">r( Sheridan 'a, SOOO after the " Rencl.d ilMreM" SCCIW, In 1819,1 nm SlM-riiLin. lu the eourae »f dinner, he *aid, " Lord Uvroii, did too huua that t Hie wrltcri of addvcMfj mi Whllbreid himaelf?* 1 I nnawerad by an mnnirv of what ion »f an addrraa he hnd riiinU. " 01 that." replied Sherkun, " i re mbei LIU)*, ex< epl ihat there *u ■ fha-nir In n." " a |.ii.i nix tl Well, how did he describe it ?" " / «e a pevftmr," a.i.'il Sheridan: " U woe *reen. and yellow, nnd red, ami blue! tie 1101 I l Dl off for a ■iiiL'lc fi-nlitr." And Just alien aa liia puuherer'i 'mi ni a nhtenix, la Cow per '■ nick picker's deluil of a wood, with all ua petty poloutla of Uiii, that, and the other, "ne more poetical Instance of ttie |«wcr of art, tnd e*en i'a svpf rtorit] we* nature, in potter, nml I have done :— the hull of Ant iitotm I I I then* any thing in nature like thi*. mnrhle, exceptlof tin- Venn » .' tan i»i"ie tx more yiittiy ttuilii'Tfl Into axle tance than In that wuodarful cnatl I iwrfect baauty? Itnt the poetry of lltia Imat ii in no retpaOt oarlTed rran nature, nor from any aaaorialiou of moral exnltrdneaa : what i. there in common, witli moml nature and the male nnnion of ftdftaa? The Hrj axacntfna ie nor nalurai, but ruprrnaiural, or raUMT WUptrwtUeial. for nature has never done ao much. A V| , , iIh-ii, with tlila cant utioni naturv and " invnrlul'le i>rluelplc) of pot)tr*l" A ere.it artim will make a block of ItOtM «• lUbuRM a» a ui'iiiiitHiii, ami ii good puei can itubue a tiack of cnnla with m<>re poetry than lohabhe the fwreaU of .America. It la the lninnru unci the proof of a poet i.. eivp the lie la ilit prowbi and ». une timet to " NwCa a alien l'u *f uut of a «ou'« ear ;" and lu Conclude with another homely Jiro? r«rb, "a (ood workman will not nnri Unit wall Uu took." ON BOWLES'S STRICTURES ON POPE. able* might have stuck in Southey's throat, like Macbeth's "Amen!" I am sure it did in mine, and I am not the least consistent of the two, at least as a voter. Moore (tt in Brute!) also approves, and a Mr. J. Scott. There is a letter also of two lines from a gentleman in asterisks, who, it seems, is a poet of M (lie highest rank'" — who can I lis be ! not inv friend. Sir "Walter, surely. Campbell 11 can't be ; Rogers it won't be. (Pope, t presume] on " Yon havr Ml the nail in llic head, ami the he-ail i/iu.' 1 I rHMDi) your*, offeeiiunately (Faur Aiteritks.) And in asterisks let Iiim remain. Whoever this person may be, he deserves, for such a judgment of Midas, tha: a the nail" which Mr. Bowles has hit in the head should be driven through his own ears ; I am sure that they are long enough. The attention of the poetical populace of the present day tu obtain an ostracism against Pope is as easily ac- counted for as the Athenian's shell against Arisddes they are tire*! of hearing him always called "the Just.'' They are also fighting for life; for if he maintains hi* station, they will reach their own falling. They have raised a mosque by the side of a Grecian temple of the purest architecture ; and, more barbarous than the bar- barians from whose practice I have borrowed the figure, they are not contented with their own grotesque edilice, mi iss ihey destroy the prior and purely beautiful fabric which preceded, and which shames them and theirs for ever and ever. . I shall be told that amongst those I have been (or it may be si ill am) conspicuous — true, and I am ashamed of it. I firwe been among the builders of tins Babel, attended by a confusion of tongues, but never among the envious destroyers of the classic temple of our predecessor. I have loved and honoured the fame and name of that illustrious and unrivalled man, fa more than my own paltry renown, and the trashy gin- gle of the crowd of "schools* and upstarts, who pretend to rival, or even surpass him. Sootier than a single leaf should be torn from his laurel, it were better that all which these men, and I, as one of their set, have ever written, should •* Line ir'inkn, clothe spiee, or, flullerinE in & row, Brlruioe Uie raiU of Bedlam or Suho I" There are those who will believe this, and those who will not. Too, sir, know how far I am sincere, and whether my opinion, not only in the short work intended for publication, and in private letters which can never be published, has or has not been the same. I look upon this a> the declining a^e of English poetry; no regard for others, no selfish feeling, can prevent me from seeing this, and expressing the truth. There can he no worse sign fur the taste of the times than the deprecia- tion of Pope, ft would be better to receive for proof Mr. Cobbetia rough but strong attach upon Shakspeare and Milton, than to allow this smooth and "candid" undermining of the reputation of the most perfect of our poets ami the purest of our moralists. Of his power in the passions, in description, in the mock-heroic, I leave others to descant. I take him on his strong ground, as an euucal poet ; in the former none excel, in the mock- heroic and the ethical none equal him ; and, in my mind, the latter is the highest of all poetry, because it does that in eerse, which the greatest uf men have wished bo accomplish in prose. If the e sence of poetrv must he a lis, throw it to the dogs, or banish it from your republic, as Plato would have done. He who can reconcile poetrv with truth and wisdom, is the only true "poet in its real sense; "the maker" tt the creator'' — why must this mean the tt liar," the "feigner," K the tale-teller ? B A man may make and create better things than these. I shall not presume to say that Pope is as high a poet as Shakspeare and Milton, though !iis enemv, Warton, places turn immediately under them. I would no more -in say this than I would assert in the mosque, (once St. Sophia's,) that Socrates was a greater man than Maho- met. But if I say that he is very near them, it is no more than has been asserted of Burns, who is supposed " To rival all but Shukspeare't name below." i say nothing against this opinion. But of what K order? according to the poetical aristocracy, are Burns's poems ? These are his opus magnum, * Tain O'Shanter," a tale; the "Colter's Saturday Ninht," a descriptive sketch; some others in the same style; the restate songs. So much for the rank of his pro Homer, since T live and thrive, i prince or peer alive — '■ ritten when princes would have been proud to pension, and peers to promote him, and when the whole armv of dunces were in array against him, and would have been but too happy to deprive him ot Uiis boast of indepen- dence. But there is something a little more serious in Mr. Bowles's declaration, that he t( would have spoken" >f his "noble generosity to the outcast, Richard Savage, 1 and other instances of a compassionate and generous heart, "ha/I they occurred to fas recollection when he wrote." What! is it come to this? Does Mr. Bowles sit down to write a minute and laboured life and edition of a great poet? Does he anatomize his character, moral and po- tical ? Does he present us with his faults and with his foibles ? Does he sneer at his feelings, and doubt of his sincerity ? Does he unfold his vanity and duplicity 7 end 291 ON BOWLES'S STRICTURES ON POPE. (hen omil the good qualities which might, in part, have 11 covered tins multitude of sins /'" and than plead thai 11 they did not occur to hia recollection /" Is this the Iramr of mind and of memory with which the illustrious dead are to be reproached ? If Mr. Bowles, who must have had access toall the means of refreshing his memory, did noi recollect these fads, he is unlit for his task ; bui if he did recollect, and omit them, I know n<»t wbal he is tit for, but I know whal would be til for him. Is ih<' plea of " not recollecting" such prominent facts to be admitted? Mr. Bowles has been at a public school, and, as 1 have been publicly educated also, I can sym- pathize with his predilection. When we were in the third form even, had we pleaded on the Monday Doming, that we had noi brought up the JSaturdav's exercise be- cause '* we had forgotten it," whal would have been the reply? And is an excuse, which would not be pardoned lo a schoolboy, to pass current in a matter which so nearly concerns the fame of tin- first poet of his age, if not of his country ? If Mr. Bowles so readily forgets the virtues of others, why complain so grievously that others have a belter memory for his own faults ? They are bul the faults of an author ; while the virtues he omitted from his catalogue are essential lo the justice due to a man. Mr. Bowles appears, indeed, lo be susceptible beyond the privilege of authorship. There is a plaintive dedi- cation to Mr. Gilford, in which he is made responsible for all the articles of the Quarterly. Mr. Southey, it seems, " the most able and eloquent writer in that Re- view," approves of Mr. Bowles's publication. Now, it seems lo me the more impartial, that notwithstanding thai the great writer of the Quarterly entertains opinions opposite to the able article on Spenoe, nevertheless that essay was permitted lo appear. Is a review to be de- voted to the opinions of any one man ? Must it not vary according to circumstances, and according to the subjects to be criticised / I fear that writers must take the swee's and bitters of tho public journals as they occur, and an author of so long a standing as Mr. Bowles might have become accustomed lo such inci- dents ; ho might bo angry, but not astonished. I have been reviewed in the Quarterly almost as often as Mr. Bowles, and have had as pleasant things said, and some as unpUatant, as could well be pronounced. In il.e re- view of * The fad of Jerusalem," i u Staled thai 1 have de voted ' inv powers, eic. to the wunti pi manicheism," winch being iuteiprcled, memo* that 1 worship the devil. Now , I have neither written a reply, nor complained toGifibrd. I believe hat I observed in i letter iu you, thai I thought "that ti"' crilit have praised Milman without finding ii necw abuse me ;" hot I did not add at die same time, ot - I after, (apropos, of the note m the booh "t travels,) ihsj I would not, if it were even in my power, hai ts I line cancelled on my accuunt in that nor in any other publication ? — Of couise, 1 reserve to myself th« privi- lege of response when necessary. Mr. Bowies Hems in a whimsical slate about the article on Spence. You know very well that I am noi in your confidence, nor is that of the conductor of ihe journal. The moment I saw that article, I was morally certain that I knew the author " by his style." You will tell me thai I do not know him; that is all as ii should boj keep the scent, SO shall I, though no one has ever intrusted it to nie. He is not the person whom Mr. Bowles denounces. Mr. Bowles's extreme sensibility reminds me of a cir- cumstance which occurred on board of a frigate, m which I was a passenger and guest of the captain's for a considerable time. The surgeon on board, a very gentlemanly young man, and remarkably able in his profession, wore a wig. Upon this ornament he was extremely tenacious. As naval jests are sometimes a little roogh, his brother-officers made occasional allu- sions to this delicate appendage to the doctor's person, One day a young lieutenant, in ihe course of a faceti us discussion, said, " Suppose, now, doctor, I should take off your hat." " Sir," replied the doctor, i( I shall talk no longer with you ; you grow scurrilous." He would not even admit so near an approach as lo the hat w hu h protected it. In like manner, if any body approached Mr. Bowles's laurels, even in his outside capacity of an editor, " they grow scurrilous." You say that you are about to prepare an edition of Pope ; you cannot do belter fjr vour own credit as a publisher, nor for the re- demption of Pope from Air. Bowles, and of the public taste from rapid degeneracy. NOTES. Note 1. Pa?e 291. 77n" Italians^ with the most poetical language, and the most, fastidious taste in Europe, possess now fire grea. lastly ..'7/ poets, they say, Dame, Petrarch, Jlriusto, I'asso, and ' fit fieri. Of these there is one ranked with the others fi>r his Sonnbts, and txe-o for compositions which belong to no class at alii Where is Dame ? His p-n m is n. laiors have been able to explain. Ariosto's is not an epic poem; and If poets are to be classed according to the genus of their poetry, when: is In- to he pla. -e-l l Of these h.e, T.isao and AJfleri only come within Aristotle's ar- rangement, and Mr. Bowles's class-bo >k. But the whole position \- false. Poets are classed by the powei of their performance, and noi according to its rank in a gradus. In ihe contrary e "principles" mem nothing more than the predilections of a particular age; and every age has IH own, and ;i dilfureiit from iu predecessor. It is now Homer and now Virgil ; once Dryden, and since Waller Scoti ; now Cor- neille, and now Racine: now Crebillon. now \ 'l'lw Homerist! and V* ire tiian* in France disputed for hall a century. Nut fifty years at-o the Italians neglected Dante Beit rtelll reproved Monti for reading "that bar. harian ;' al pres'-nt they adore him. Bhuapes I Milton have had their rise, and they will have tl cline. Already the] have more than once Quotum must be the case with all the dramutiate and pons ol a living language. '1 hi- di e not depend upon n gj| but upon the ordinary vicissitudes of human npl ii ta. Si hies, i and Madame de Sue] have endeavoured reduce poetry to two systems, classical and romantic. The effect is only beginning. Note 2. Page 293. I shall noi presume to nay that Pope »* as htgh a poet as Shakspean and Milton, though his enemy, Huiton, plans hint immediately under thun. If the opinions cited by Mr. Bowles, of Dr. Johnson against Pope, are io be tal en ■ e decisive authority, tin y will also hold good against Gr.i\ , Mi ton, Swift. Tl and Dryden : m that c tee whai becomes of G> ay's pot ttcal and Milton's moral character? even of Milton's poetical character, or, Indeed, of English poetry In general? foi Johnson strips many a leaf from every laurel. Slill Johnsons is ihe fiue-i rruical work extant, and <.an nevei L»u read wiihoui instruction and delight. OBSERVATIONS UPON "OBSERVATIONS." A SECOND LETTER TO JOHN MURRAY, ESQ. OS THE REV.W. L.BOWLES'S STRICTURES ON THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF POPE Ravenna, March 25, 1821. Dear Sir, In the furlher " Observations" of Mr. Bowles, in re- jiiinder 10 ihe charges hrought against h Pope, it is to be regretted that he has Mr. Bowles declares, that " he will not enter into a pamcolar examination of the pamphlet," which by a misnomer is called '■ Gilchrist's Answer to B wles " I his edition of when it should have been called " Gilchrist's Abuse 'of lost his temper. Bowles." On ibis error in ihe baptism of Mr Gil- WWerih. language of his antagonists may have been, ; chrisl's pamphlel, ,t may be observed, that » answer I liar that Ins replies have afforded more pleasl e to may be abusive and vet £"! ' b Z «? ,h r I? Mf , BOW,eS 8h ° Uld " 0t ' ^'"' M y » «-™ o™ m ght be "e, er of Z be pleased » natural, whether nght or wrong ; but a two , but ,1 otu« ,s to cancel all pretension to reply temp rate defence would have answered his purpose in what becomes of Mr. Bowles's answers to Mr Git Ihe former case— and, in the latler.no defence, how- christ 1 era violent. can tend to any thing bu, his discomfiture. Mr. Bowles continues :-" But as Mr Gilchrist de- have read oyer , Ins ,h,rd pamphlet, which you have rides nvy pecuUor ««*«• to aitoZ tefcrelshw been so obligmg as to send me, and shal venture a few how destitute of truth ,s Ms representaUon, I will hZ Uove'Z '" l ° UP ° n ,hepreVlous c «n- explic.ly declare the only grounds, fee. &c. &c'-Mr! r °ivT rS -D i .. ... Bowles's sensibility in denying his "sensitiveness lii Mr Bowles sous out with repeating his « confirmed criticism" proves "perhaps loo^much. Bu Tf he has miir/ifm." that '» wh»t U*. .-„,.! „r iU .« ! . _n l _ . r " JJUl " ne "as ■ \ r I"""" |fl-llHl[JO 1UU lll'l' Jl. J that -what he said of the moral part of been so charged, and truly— what then? _ , — i — « ^vuoif;.. u , ttuu iiuiy — wnai men; l h Popes character was, generally speaking, true; and moral turpitude in such acu.eness of feelin that Ihe principles of poetical criticism which he has laid ! been, and mnv h„ h;„-J ...:,,. ~, There is no it ha he has laid been, and may be, combined with many sood'and ureal down are tnvartahle and invulnerat.k," &e. , and that he I qualities. Is Mr. Bowles a poel, or ,s he not " If he IS the more persuaded of this by the ■ exaggerations of be, he must, from his very essence be senl,"ive to c riti his opponents." This is ail very well, and highly na- cism ; and even if he be not, he need no, b ashamed ol lural and sincere Nobody ever expected ibat either Mr. ! the common repugnance lo being attacked All lhaT t - to be wished is,, hat he had considered how H^agreeable man fallibility in their own persons. But it is nothing lo the purpose— for it is not what Mr. Bowles thinks, but what is to be thought of Pope, that is the question. It is what he has asserted or insinuated against a name which is the palrimony of posterity, thai is to be tried ; and Mr. Bowles, as a parly, can be no judge. The more he is persuaded, the heller for himself, if it give him any pleasure; but he can only persuade others by the proofs brought out in his defence. After these prefatory remarks of " conviction," &c. Mr. Bowles proceeds to Mr. Gilchrist; whom he charges with " slang" and " slander," besides a small subsidiary indictment of" abuse, ignorance, malice," and so forth. Mr. Gilchrist has, indeed, shown some anoer ; but it rs an honest indignation, which rises up in defence of Ihe illustrious dead. It is a generous rage which in- terposes between our ashes and their disturbers. There appears also lo have been some slight personal pro- vocation. Mr. Gilchrist, wiih a chivalrous disdain of the fury of an incensed poel. put his name to a letter avowing the production of a former essay in defence of Pope, and consequently of an allack upon Mr. Bowles. Mr. Bowles appears to be angry with Mr. Gilchrist for four reasons : — firstly, because he a Ihing it is, before he assailed Ihe greatest moral poet of any age, or in any language. Pope himself "sleeps well,"— nothing can touch him further; but those who love the honour of their country, the perfection of her lilerature, the glory of her language— are not to be expected to permit an atom of his dust lo be slirred in his lomb, or a leaf to be stripped from the laurel which grows over it. Mr. Bowles assigns several reasons why and when '' an author is justified in appealing to every upright and honourable mind in the kingdom." If Mr. Bowles limits the perusal of his defence to ihe " upright and honourable" only, I greally fear thai it will not be ex- tensively circulated. I should rather hope that some of Ihe downright and dishonest will read and be con- verted, or convicted. But the whole of his reasoning is here superfluous—" an author is justified in appeal- ing," &c. when and why he pleases. Lei him make out a tolerable case, and few of his readers will quarrel wilh his motives. Mr. Bowles " will now plainly set before the literary public all the circumstances which have led to Ail name and Mr. Gilchrist's being brought together," &c. wrote an article in j Courtesy requires, in speaking of others and ourselves, "Tkplnml.tu,.,,;. .» ji v. l 7 """""y squires, in s leaning ol omers and ourse ves, waTds avowed it T^ i l y ' *T hC f e,J ,ha ' we should P'* ce lhe name r ' f "» »™« &*— «J IT. T. ' £ y ' r a " ae l ^. WaS " ,e aUlhor 0f not " E «° *< R « meus -" Mr. Bowles should have .iZ .» , r n M d t'"^ '" " The( i^»"ly Re- written "Mr. Gilchrist's name and his." and, fourthly, because he was hot the author of the said Quarlerlv article, and had the audacity to disown it— for no earthly reason bul because he had hot written it. This point he wishes " particularly to address to those most respectable characters, who have the direction and management of the periodical critical press." That I the press may be, in some instances, conducted by re- S9C OBSERVATIONS ON "OBSERVATIONS:" spec'able characters is probable enough ; but if they are h. i. there ie iccasion to tell them of it; and if they aie not, it is a base adulation. In either case, it looks like a kind of flattery, by which (hose gentry are not very likely to be softened; since it would be difficult to find two passages in fifteen pages more at variance, than Mr. Bowles's prose at the beginning oJ thia pamphlet, and his verse at the end of it. In page 4. he speaks of " those most respectable characters who have the direction, &c. of the periodical press," and in page 10. we find — ** Ye dark injuititOTt, a mouV-llk* band, Who o'er IOBH shrinking rieUra*tnihar ti«uJ, A solemn, lecroi, nmi vtndicttnt brtiod, Only terrific in yuirpcowl mid hood." And so on — to " bloody law" and " red scourges," with other similar phrases, which may not be altogether agreeable to the above-mentioned " most respectable characters." Mr. Bowles goes on, " I concluded tnv observations in the last Pamphleteer with feelings not unkind towards Mr. Gilchrist, or" fit should be nor] " to the author of the review of Spence, be he whom be might." — M I was in hopes, as I have always been ready to admit any errors I might have been led into, or pre- judice I might have entertained, that even Mr. Gilchrist might be disposed to a more amicable mode of discussing what I had advanced in regard to Pope's moral cha- racter." As Major Sturgeon observes, " There never was a set of more amicable officers — with the exception of a boxing-bout between Captain Shears and the Colonel." A page and a half — nay only a page before — Mr. Bowles re-affirms his conviction, that " what he has said of Pope's moral character is (generally tpettJdng') true, and that his "poetical principles are invariant and invulnerable.' 1 '' He has also published three pam- phlets, — ay, four of the same tenour, — and yet, with this declaration and these declamations staring him and his adversaries in the face, he speaks of his " readiness to admit errors or to abandon prejudices ! ! !" His 0S6 off the word " amicable" reminds me of the Irish Institu- tion (which I have somewhere heard or read of) called the " Friendly Society," where lite president alwavs carried pistols in his pocket, so that when one amicable gentleman knocked down another, the difference might be adjusted on the spot, at the harmonious distance of twelve paces. But Mr. Bowles "has since read a publication by him (Mr. Gilchrist) containing such vulgar slander, affecting private life and character,'* &c. &c. ; and Mr. Gilchrist has also had the advantage of reading a pub- lication by Mr. Bowles sufficiently imbued with per- sonality ; for one of the first and principal topics of reproach is that he is a grocer, that he has a " pipe in his mouth, ledger-book, green canisters, dingy shop- boy. half a hogshead of brown treacle," &c. Nay, the same delicate raillery is upon the very title-page. When controversy has once commenced upon this footing, as Dr. Johnson said to Dr. Percy, " Sir, there is an end of politeness— we are to be as rude as wo please — Sir, you said that I was short-sighted" As a man's pro- fession is generally no more in his own power than his person — both having been made out for him — it is hard that he should be reproached with either, and still more that an honest calling should be made a reproach. If there is any tiling more honourable lo Mr. Gilchrist than another it is, that heing engaged in commerce he has had the taste, and found the leisure, to become bo able a proficient in the higher literature of his own and other countries. Mr. Bowles, who will be proud to own Glover, Chatterton, Burns, and Bloomfield for his peers, should hardly have quarrelled with Mr. Gilchrist for his critic. Mr. Gilchrist's station, however, which might conduct him to the highest civic honours, and to boundless wealth, has nothing to require apology; but even if U had, such a reproach was not very gracious on the part of a clergyman, nor graceful on thut of a gentleman. The allusion to " Christian criticism" is nol particularly happy, especially where Mr. Gilchrist is accused of having " set thejirst example of tins mode in Europe. 1 What Pagan criticism may have been we know but little ; the names of Zoilus and Aristarchus survive, and the works of Anstoile, Longious, and Q,uintilian: but of " Christian criticism" we have already bad some specimens in the works of Philel- phus, Pogsius, Scaliger, Milton, Salmasius, the Crus- canii (versus Tasso,) the French Academy (again>i the Cid,) and the antagonists of Voltaire and of Pupe— to say nothing of some articles in most of the reviews, since their earliest institution in ihe person of their respectable and still prolific parent, "The Monthly." Why, then, is Mr. Gilchrist io be singled out "as having set the first example ?" A sole page of Milii.n or Salmasius contains more abust — rank, rancorous, unleavened abuse — than all that can be raked furih from the whole works of many remit critics. There are some, indeed, who still keep up the good old CUStOfD ; but fewer English than foreign. 1; is a pity that Mr. Bowles cannot witness some of the Italian contro- versies, or become the subject of one. He would then look upon Mr. Gilchrist as a panegyrist. * * + * To me it appears of no very great consequence whe- ther Martha Blount was or was not Pope's mistress, though I could have wished him a better. She appears to have been a cold-hearted, interested, ignorant, dis agreeable woman, upon whom the tenderness of Pope'* heart in the desolation of his latter davs was cast away, not knowing whither to turn, as he drew towards his premature old age, childless ami lonely, — like the needle which, approaching within a <-crta in distance of the pole, becomes helpless and useless, and, ceasing lo tremble, rusts. She seems to have been so totally unworthy of tenderness, that it is an additional proof of the kindness of Pope's heart to have been able to love such a being, But we must love something. I agree with Mr. B. dial she "could at no time have regarded Puj>r personally with attachment," because she was incapable of attach- ment ; but I deny lhat Pope could not be regarded wiih personal attachment by a worthier woman. It is not probable, indeed, (hat a woman would have fallen in love with him as he walked along the Mall, or in a box, at the opera, nor from a balcony, nor in a ball-room ; but in society he seems lo have been as amiable as uii.i-.uni- ing, and, wiih the greatest disadvantages of figure, his head and face were remarkably handsome, especially his eyes. He was adored by his friends — friends of the most op|KJsito dispositions, ages, and talents — by (ho old and wayward Wycherley, by the cynical Swift, the rough Aiierbury, the gentle Spence, the stern attorney- bishop Warburton, the virtuous Berkeley, and the "cankered Bolmgbroke." Bohngbroke wept over him like a chili! ; and Spencer's description of fail last mo- ments is at least as edifying as the more ostentatious account of the deathbed of Addison. The soldier Peter- borough and the poet Gay, the witty Congreve and the laughing Uowe, the eccentric Cromwell and the steady Bathurat, Were all his intimates. The man who could conciliate so many men of ihe most opposite description, not one of whom but was a remarkable or a celebrated character, might well have pretended to all the attach- ment which a reasonable man would desire of an amiable woman. Pope, in fact, wherever he got it, appears to have understood the sex well. Bolingbroke, " a judge of the uhjeel," says Warlon, thought his " Epistle on the Characters of Women" his " masterpiece." And even with respect to the grosser passion, which takes occa- sionally the name of " rvnantic" accordingly as the A SECOND LETTER ON BOWLES'S STRICTURES. 297 degree of sentiment elevates it above the definition of .ove by Burton, il mav be remaiked, thai il does not always depend upon per^uitiil appearance, even in a woman. Madame Collin was a plain woman, ^ml might have been virtuous, it may be presumed, without much interruption. Virtuous she was, and the conse- quences of this uiveleraie virtue were that two dltfereui admirers (one an elderly gentleman) killed themselves in despair (see Lady Morgan's " France.") I would not, however, recommend this rigour to plain women in general, in the hope of securing the glory of two suicides apiece. I beheve that there are few men who, in the corse of their observaiions on life, may not have per- ceived that it is not the greatest f-niale beauty who forms the tungest and the strongest passions. But, apropos of Pope. — Voltaire tells us that the Marechal Luxembourg (who had precisely Pope'sfigure) was not only somewhat too amatory for a great man, but Jbminate in his attachments. La VaU£re, the passion of Louis XIV., had an unsightly delect. The Princes* of Eholi, the mistress of Philip II. of Spain, and M.tu^iron, the minion of Henry III. of France, had each of them lost an eye ; and the famous Latin epigram was writieu upon them, which has, I believe, been either translated or imitated by GoldsmiUi : — " 1 , limine Aeon deTtro, Ctpta eit I.comlla siiiiBtro, Et pons en forma rinoera ulerque Dens ; BUorie puor, iumen quod (tabes concede gurrori, Sie lu c*cu* A ul.ji , uc Brit ilia. Vcuui.' ' Wilkes, with his ugliness, used to say that " be was but a quarter of an hour behind the handsomest man in Engtaud ;" and this vaunt of lus is said not to have been disproved by circumstances. Swift, when neither young, nor handsome, nor rich, nor even amiable, inspired the two most extraordinary passions upon record, Vanessa's and Stella's. ** VaneMA, aged scarce n score, Sigln for * gu*o of forty-four." He requited them bitterly; for he seems to have broken the heart of the one, and worn out that of the other; and he had his reward, for he died a solitary idiol in the hands of servants. For my own part, I am of the opinion of Pausanias, that success in love depends upon Fortune. " They particularly renounce Celestial Venus, into whose tem- ple, &c. &c. &lc. I remember, too, to have seen a building in jEgina in which ihere is a sia'ue of Fortune, holding a horn of Amahhea; and near her there is a winged Love. The meaning of this is, that the success of men in love affairs depends more on the assistance of Fortune than the charms of beauty. I am persuaded, too, with Pindar (to whose opinion I submit in olhcr particulars), that Fortune is one of the Fates, ami thai in a certain respect she is more powerful than her sis- ters.'' — See Pausanias, Achaics, book vit. chap. 26. p. 246. Taylor's " Translation." Grimm has a remark of the same kind on the different destinies of the younger Crebillon and Rousseau. The former writes a licentious novel, and a young English girl of some fortune and family (a Miss Strafford) runs sway, and crosses the sea to marrv him ; while Rous- seau, the most tender and passionate of lovers, is obliged i» espouse bis chambermaid. If I recollect rightly, this remark was also related in the Edinburgh Review of Grimm's correspondence, seven or eight years ago. In regard " to the strange mixture of indecent, and sometimes profane levity, which his conduct and lan- guage often exhibited." and which so much shocks Mr. Bowles, I object to the indefinite word " often j n and in extenuation of the occasional occurrence of such lan- guage it w to be recollected, that it was less the tone of P>pe, than (he tone of the time. With the exception of the correspondence of Pope and his friends, not many private letters of ihe period have come down to us; but those, such as they are— a few scattered rcrapa from 88 Farquhar and others — are more indecent and coarso than any thing in pope's letters. The comedies of Congreve, Vanbriigh, Farquhar, Gibber, &c, which naturally attempted to represent the manners and con- versation of private life, are decisive upon this point ; as are also some of Steele's papers, and even Addison's. We all know what the conversation u( Sir H. Walpole, for seventeen years the prime minister of the country, vvasat his own table, and his excuse for his licentious language, viz. "that every body understood that, but few could talk rationally upon less common topics." The refinement of latter days, — which is perhaps the consequence of vice, which wishes to mask and soften itself, as much as of virtuous civilisation,— had not yet made sufficient progress. Even Johnson, in his " Lon- don," has two or three passages which cannot be read aloud, and Addison's ''Drummer" some indelicate al- lusions. To return to Mr. Bowleg. "If what is here ex- traced can excite in the mind (I will not say of any ' layman,' of any ' Christian.' but) of any human being" &C Stc. Is not Mr. Gilchrist a " human being?" Mr. Bowles asks "whether m attributing an article," &lc. &c. "to the critic, he had any reason for disiin- guisbing him with that courtesy," &c. &.c. But Mr. Bowles was wrong in " attributing the article" to Mr. Gilchrist at all ; and would not have been right in call- ing him a dunce and a grocer, if he had written it. Mr. Bowles is here t( peremptorily called upon to speak of a circumstance which gives him the greatest pain, — the mention of a letter he received from the editor of 'The London Magazine 1 " Mr. Bowles seems to have embroiled himself on all sides; whether by editing, ot replying, or attributing, or quoting, — it has been an awkwaid affair for him. Poor Scott is now- no more. In the exercise of his vocation, he contrived at last to make himself the sub- ject of a coroner's inquest. But he died like a brave nan, and he lived an able one. I knew him personally, hough slightly. Although several years my senior, we had been schoolfellows together at the " gramniar-schule" (or, as the Aberdonians pronounce it, "*/u«/") ot New Aberdeen. He did not behave to me quite handsomely in his capacity of editor a few years ago, but he vtai under no obligation to behave otherwise. The moment was too tempting for many friends and for all enemies At a time wlu-n all my relations (save one) fell from m» like leaves from the tr»-e in autumn winds, and my few friends became still fewer. — when the whole peri- odical press (I mean the daily and weekly, not the literary press) was let loose against me in every shape of reproach, with the two sirange exceptions (from theii usual opposition) of " The Courier" and " The Exami- ner," — the paper of which Scott had the direction was neither the last nor the least vituperative. Two years ago I met him at Venice, when he was bowed in griefs by the loss of his son, and had known, by experience, the bitterness of domestic privation. He was then ear- nest with me to return to England; and on my telling him, with a smile, that he was once of a different opi- nion, he replied to me, 'that he and others had beep greatly misled; and that some pains, and rather extraor- dinary means, had been taken to excite them.' Scott is no more, but there are more than one living who were present at this dialogue. He was a man of very consi- derable talents, and of great acquirements. He had made his way, as a literary character, with high success, and in a few years. Poor fellow ! I recollect his joy al some appointment which he had obtained, or was t« obtain, through Sir James Mackintosh, and which pre- vented the further extension (unless by a rapid run to Rome) of his travels in Iialy. I little thought to what it would conduct him. Peace be with him! — and may all such other faults as are inevitable to humanity be as readily forgiven him, as the little injury which he had OBSERVATIONS ON "OBSERVATIONS:" 89S lone to one who respected his talenis, and regrets his I pass over Mr. Bowles's page of explanation, upon the correspondence between him and Mr. S . It is jf little importance in regard to Pope, and contains nerely a re-contradiction of a contradiction of Mr. < Sit- Christ's. We now come to a point where Mr. Gilchrist has, certainly, rather exaggerated matters; and, of course, Mr. Bowles makes the most of it. Capital letters, like Kean's name, ll large upon the bills," are made use of six or seven times to BXpn Sfl his sense of the outrage. The charge is indeed) very bojdty made j but, like "Ranold of the Mist's" practical joke of put- ting the bread and cheese into a dead man's mouth, is. as 1 tugald 1 talgetty says, " somewhat loo wild and sal- vage, besides wasting the pood victuals. Mr. Howies appeals to the " Christian reader!" upon this " GUchristian criticism.' 1 Is not this play upon such words " a step beyond decorum" in a clergyman .' But I admit the temptation of a pun to be irresistible. Bui " a hasty pamphlet was published, in which some personalities respecting Mr. Gilchrist were suffered lo Bppear." If Mr. Bowles will write " hasty pamphlets,'' why is he so surprised on receiving Bhorl answers The nmrid grievance to which he perpetually reliirns is a charge of" llijpaehomlriacism" asserted or insinuate ' in the Quarterly, I cannot conceive a man in perfect health being much affected by such a charge, becaus his complexion and conduct must amply refute it. But were ii true, to what does it amount? — to an impeach- ment of a liver complaint. " I will tell it to the world," exclaimed the learned Smelfungus. — You had better," said 1, " tell it to your physician." There is noihin dishonourahle in such a disorder, which i^ more pecu- liarly the malady of students. It has been the complaint of the good, and the wise, and the witiy, and even of lliei-av. R'gnard, the author of ihc last French CO- i |y ;,f>'r Moliere, was atrabilious; and Moliere hin self, saturnine. Dr. Johnson, Gray, and Hums, were all more or less affected In' n occasionally. I' was ihi prelude to the more awful malady of Collins, Cowper Swift, and Smart; hut it hy no means follows thai a partial affliction of this disorder is to terminate like theirs. But even were it so, — " Nor beat, nor wi*e»t. «re exempt from thrp ; Folly— Folly's only lYee." Pcurott. If this be the criterion of e:semption, Mr. Bowles s last two pamphlets form a hotter cert ificale of sanity than a physician's. Mendehlson and Bayle were at times so overcome with this depression, as to he obliged to reeur to seeing "puppet-shows, and counting files upon the opposite houses,* 1 to divert ihemselves. Dr. Johnson ai i urns '' would have given a iimb to recover his spiriis.' 1 Mr. Bowles, who is (strange lo say) fond of tiuoting Pope, may perhaps answer, — " Go on, oMfeing cn-atiirei, let me tee All which disgrac'd my hellem met in mf ** But the cliarge, such as it is, neither disgraces them n him* It is easily disproved if false ; and even if proved line, has nothing in it to make a man so ven indignant Mr. Bowles himself appears to he a little ashamed of his *' hasty pamphlet;" for he attempts to excuse it by th< " great provocation ;" that is to say, hy Mr. Bowks', supposing that Mr. Gilchrist was the " riter of the article in (he Quarterly, which he was not. " Btit, in extenuation, not only the greoi provocation should be remembered, but it ought to bo said, that orders were sent to the London I ksellers, that the most direct personal passages should he omitted entirely ," &.c. This is what the proverb ealls " breaking b l" ad and giving a plaster ;" but, in (his instance, the plaster Was t it spread in time, and Mr. Gilchrist does not seem n pit itui disposed lo regard Mr. Bowleg's courtesies like the rust of the spear of Achilles, which had such rklll in surgery." Bui " Mr. Gilchrist has no ritflii to object, an the reader will see." I am a reader, a '' flf-mle reader," and I see nothing of the kind. Were I in Mr. Gilchrist's place, l should object exceedingly to being ai firstly, lor whal I did write, and, secondly, for what I did not write ; merely because il is Mr. Bowles's will and pleasure to he as an^ry with rue t<-r having written in the London Magazine, as for not having wriilen in the Quarterly Review. "JMr. Gilchrist has had ample revenge; for he has, in bis answer, said BO and so," &c. &c. There is no great revenge in all this ; and I presume that nobody either seeks or wishes it. What revenge .' Mr. Bowles calls names, and he is answered. Bui Mi. Uilehnsi and he ," — Horn. ii being a very tine fresh-coloured young ■nan. To return to " rose-water" — that is, to gentle means of rebuke. Does Mr. Bowl, a know how to re- venge himself upon a hackney-coaehinan, when he has overcharged his fare? In ease he should not, 1 will tell him. It is of little use to call him a "rascal, a scoundrel, a thief, an impostor, a btsckgOafd, a villain, a raggamuffin, a — what you please," all that he is used in — it is Ins mother-tongue, and probably his mother's. But look him Bteadily and quietly in the lace, and say — " Upon my word, I think you are the ugliest fdlow I ever saw in my life," and he will instantly roll forth the brazen thunders of the charioteer Salmoneus as follows : — " Hugly ! w hat (he h — II are you ? You a gentit man ' Why !" So much easier it i> to protwas — and therefore to vindicate — (for passion punishes him who '".'>■ ii more thai) those whom the passionati would ex- cruciate) — by a few quiet words the aggressor, than by retorting violently. The "coals of fire" of U.e Scrip- A SECOND LETTER ON BOWLE'8 STRICTURES. 299 CUre aie benefits; — bul they are not the less "coals of /&«." 1 pass over a page of quotation and reprobation — "Sin up to my sony" — '*Oh let my little bark" — *' Arc^uh-s amiiu" — ' Writer in the Quarterly Review an I turn-, ■if — •• In-door avocaiions, indued" — " Kings of'B enlford" — "One nosegay' 1 — "Perennial nosegay" — '* nil Juveoee," — and the like. Page 1*2. produces '■ more reasons," — (the task ought nut \o havu been difficult, for as yet there were none) — 11 to show why Mr. Bowles attributed the critique in the Quarterly to Octavius Gilchrist." All these " reasons" consists of ROTPUisi of Mr, Bowles, upon the presumed ciiaracterof his opponent. '■ He did not suppose there could exist a man in die kingdom so impudent, &c. &c. except Octavius Gilchrist."— ■* He did not think there was a man in the kingdom who would pretend ignorance, &c. &e. except Octavius Gilchrist. 1 ' — He did not conceive that one man in the kingdom would utter such stupid flippancy, &c. &c. except Octavius Gilchrist." — " He Hid not think there was one man in the kingdom who, &c, &<■. could so utterly show his ignorance, com- billed irtih conceit, &c as Octavius Gilchrist." — ''He did uoi believe there was a man in the kingdom so per- fect in Mr, Gilchrist's 'old tunes,'" &c. &c. — "He did not think the mean mirul of any one in the king- dom," &c, and so on ; always beginning with " any one in the kingdom," and ending with " Octavius Gilchrist," like the word in a catch. I am not '* in the kingdom," and have not been much in the kingdom since I was one and twenty, (about live years in the whole, since I was of age,) an ) have no desire to be in the kingdom again, whilst I breathe, nor to sleep there afterwards; and I regret nothing more than having ever been " in the kingdom* at all. But though no longer a man " in the kingdom," let me hope that when I have ceased to exist, it tnav be said, as was answered by the master of C anronald's henchman, his day after the battle of Sheriff*- Mmr, when he was found watching his chiefs body. He was asked, " who that was ?" he replied — { it was a man yesterday." And in this capacity, " in or out of the kingdom," I must own that T participate in many of the objections urged by Mr. Gilchrist. I participate in his love ol'Pope, and in his not understanding, and oc- casionally rinding fault with, the last editor of our last truly great poet. One of the reproaches against Mr. Gilchrist is, that he is (it is sneeringly said) an F. S. A. If it will give Mr Bowles am pleasure, I am nol an F. S. A. hut a fellow of the Royal Society at his service, in case should be any thing in that association also which muv point a paragraph. 11 There are some other reasons," but " the author is now not unknown." Mr. Bowles has so totally ex- haiMe I hini«elf upon Octavius Gilchrist, that he has not a word left for the real quarterer of his edition, although now '■ delerre." The following pa ye refers to a mvsterinus charge of " duplicity, in regard to the publication nt Pope's let- ters." Till ihis charge is made in proper form, we have nothing to do with it: Mr. Gilchrist hints it — Mr. B i lea denies it ; there it rests for the present. Mr. Bowie- professes his dislike to Pope's duplicity, not to Pope" — a distinction apparently without a difference. However, 1 believe that I un lerstand him. We have a great isltketu Mr. Bowles's edition of Pope, but nut io .Mr. Bowleg ; nevertheless, he tak^s up the subject as warmtv as if it was personal. With regard to the fact of " Pope's duplicity,* 1 it remains to be proved — like Mr. Bowles's benevolence towards his memory. In page 14. we have a large assertion, that " the ' Eloi«j;\' alone is sufficient to convict him of gross liren- tunutun. n Thus, out it comes at last. Mr. Bowles iloei a< cuse Pope of " grots licentiousness," and grounds the charge upon a poem. The licentionxness is a "grand peut-etre," according to the turn of the times being. The grossness I deny. On (he contrary, I do believe that such a subject never was, n. >r ever could be, treated by any poet with so much delicacy, mingled with, at the same time, such true and intense passion. Is the " Atys" of Catullus licentious ? No, nor eve* gross; and yet Catullus is often a coarse writer. Tha subject is nearly the same, except that Atys was lite suicide of his manhood, and Abelard the victim. The " licentiousness" of the story was not Pope's^— it was a fact. All that it had of gross, he has softened ; — all that it had of indelicate, he has purified ; — all that it had of passionate, he has beautified ; — all that it had of holy, he has hallowed. Mr. Campbell has admi- rably marked this in a few words {I quote from me- mory), in drawing the distinction between Pope and Dryden, and pointing out where Dry den was wanting. 'I fear," says he, " that had the subject of 'Eloisa 1 fallen into bis (Dryden's) bands, that he would have given us but a course draft of her passion." Never was the delicacy of Pope so much shown as in this poem. With the facts and the letters of " Eloisa" he has done what no other mind but that of the best and purest of poets could have accomplished with such materials. Ovid, Sappho (in the Ode called hers) — ail that wo have of ancient, all that we have of modern poetry, sinks into nothing compared with him in this production. Let us hear no more of this trash about " licentious- ness." Is not " Anacreon" taught in our schools ?— translated, praised, and edited? Are not his Odea the amatory praises n(n boy? Is not Sappho's Ode on a girl? Is not this sublime and (according to Longinus) fierce love for one of her own sex ? And is not Phi!- lip's translation of it in the mouths of all your women? And are the English schools or the Engiish women the more corrupt for all this ? When you have thrown tho ancients into the fire, it will be time to denounce the moderns. " Licentiousness !"* — there is more real mis- chief and sapping licentiousness in a single French prose novel, in a Moravian hymn, or a German comedy, than in all the actual poetry that ever was penned, or poured forth, since the rhapsodies of Orpheus. The sentimental anatomy of Rosseau and Mad. de S. are Ur more formidable than any quantity of verse. They are so, because they sap the principles, by reasoning upon the passions; whereas poetry is in itself passion and does not systematise. It assails, but does not argue ; ii ina\ be wrong, but it does nol assume pretensions to Optimism. Mr. Bowles now 1ms the goodness " to point out the difference between a traduccr and him who sincerely states what he sincerely believes." He might have spared himself the trouble. The one is a liar, who lies knowingly ; the other (I speak of a scandal-monger of course) lies, charitably believing that he speaks truth, and very sorry to find himself in falsehood ; — because " Would ratlicr th.it the dean should die, Thau hit predictlou prove a lie." After a definition of a " traducer," which was quite superfluous (though it is agreeable to learn that Mr. Bowles so well understands the character), we are as- sured, that " he feels equally indifferent, Mr. Gilchrist, for what your malice can invent, or your impudence utter." This is indubitable; for it rests not only on Mr. Bowles's assurance, but on that of Sir Fretful Pla- giary, and nearly in the saine words, — ' and I shall treat t with exacily the same calm indifference and philo- sophical contempt, and so vour servant." " One thing has given Mr. Bowles concern." It is a passage which might seem to reflect on the patro- nage a young man has received.*' MifiHTseem!. The passage alluded to expresses, that if l.{: (iilca ist be 300 OBSERVATIONS OS "OBSERVATIONS.* the reviewer of "a certain poet of na:ure," his praise and blame are equally contemptible."— Mr. Bowles, who has .1 peculiarity ambig is style. wber« u suits him. comes off with a "not lo thenar hot t h«- .ritic," &c. In my humble opiim.ii, tlie passage retired to both. Hal Mr. B iwles really meanl fairly, be wuaM have said so from the hr-t — he would have bet n eagerly transpa- rent. — " A certain p.-ei of nature" is not the style oi commendation. li U the very prologue to the most scandalous paragraphs of the newspapers, when " Willing to wound, «ml yel afraid to •trikt.'' "> certain high personage," — " a certain peeress," — "a certain [I ustrinus foreigner," — whal do these word* ever precede, but defamation ? Had he felt a spark of kindling kindness for John Clare, he would have named him. There is a sneer in the sentence as it stands. How a favourable review of a deserving po.-t can " rather injure than promote his cause" is difficult to comprehend. The article denounced is able and amiable, and it hat " served" the poet, as far as poetry can be served by judicious and honest criticism. With the two next paragraphs of Mr. Bowles's pam- phlet it is pleasing to concur. His mention of " Pen- nie, and his former patronage of " Shoel," do him honour. I am not of those who may deny Mr. Bowles to be a benevolent man. I merely assert, that he is not a candid editor. Mr. Bowles has been " a writer occasionally upwards of thirty years," and never wrote one word in reply in his life " to criticisms, merely ax criticisms." This is Mr. Lofty in Goldsmith's Good-natured Man ; " and I vow by all that's honourable, my resentment has never done the men, as mere men, any manner of harm, — that is, as mere men. " The letter to the editor of the newspaper" is owned ; but " it was not on account of the criticism. It was because the criticism came down in a frank directed to Mrs. Bowles ! ! !" — (she iulicfl and three notes of ad- miration appended to Mrs, Bowles are copied verbatim from the quotation), and Mr. Bowles was not displeased with the criticism, but with the frank and the address. I agree with Mr. Bowles that the intention was to an- noy him; but I fear that this was answered by his no- lice of the reception of the criticism. An anonymous lotter-writer has but one means of knowing the effect of Uis attack. In this he has the superiority over the vi- per ; he knows that his poison has taken effect, when he hears the victim cry ; — the adder is denf. The best re- ply lo an anonymous intimation is to lake no notice di- rectly nor indirectly. I wish Mr. Bowles could see onl. one or two of the thousand which I have received in the course of a literary life, which, though begun early, has not yet extended to a third part of his existence as an author. I speak of literary life only. Were I lo add per tonal, I might double the amount of anonymous letters. If he could but see the violence, the threats, the absurdity of the whole thing, he would laugh, and so should I, and thus be both gainers. To keep up the farce, — within the last month of this present writing (18-21 )I have had my life threatened in the same way which menaced Mr. Bowles's fame, — excepting that tho anonymous denunciation was ad- dressed to the Cardinal Legate of iiomagna, instead of to Mrs. Bowles. The Cardinal is, I believe, the elder lady of the two. I append the menace in all its bar- baric but literal Italian, that Mr. Bowles may he con- vinced ; and as this is the only a promise to pay," which the Italians ever keep, so mv person has been at least as much exposed to a " shot in the gloaming," from " John Heatherblutter" (see Waverlv,) as ever Mr. Bowl, * my custom in the afternoon," and that I believe if the tyrant cannot escape amidsl his guards (should it be bo Written .') so the humbler individual would find pre- cautions useless. Mr. Bowles has here the humility to «ay, that "he must succumb; for with Lord Byron turned against him, he has no chance," — a declaration of s< ICdemal not much in unison with his "promise," five lines afterwards, that *' for every twenty-four lines quoted by Mr. Gilchrist, or his friend, to greet him with as many from the ' Gilchrisiad f " but so much the better. Mr. Bowles has no reason to " succumb" but to Mr. Bowles. As a poet, the author of " The .Missionary" may compete with the foremost of his contemporaries. Let it be recollected, that all my previous opinions of Mr. Bowles's poetry were written long before the publi- cation of his last and best poem ; and that u poet's last poem should he his best, is his highest praiae. But, however, he may duly and honourably rank with his living rivals. There never was so complete a proof of the superiority ol Pope, as m the lines with winch Mr. Bowles closes his "ft>oi concluded in our newt." Mr. Bowles is avowedly the champion and the poet nf nature. Art and the arts are dragged, some before, and others behind his chariot. Pope, where he deals with passion, and with the nature of the naturals of the dav, is allowed even by themselves to be sublime; but th«J complain that too soon — " He itoop'd to truth and moraliacd hii •oiig." and there even they allow him to be unrivalled. He has succeeded, and even surpassed them, when he chose, in (heir own pretended province. Let us see what their Coryphceus effects in Pope's. But it is too pitiable, it is too melancholy, to see Mr. Bowles "sinning" not " up" but " down" as a poet to his lowest depth as an editor. By the way, Mr. Bowles is always quoting Pope. I grant that there is no poet — not Shakspeara himself — who can be so often quoted, with reference to life ; — but his editor is so like the devil quoting Scrip- ture, that I could wish Mr. Bowles in his proper place quoting in the pulpit. And now for his lines. But it is painful — painful — to see such a suicide, though at the shrine of Pope. I can't copy them all : — " Shall the rank, loet Inome roiicrennt of the nge Sil, lilit- ti uijiul-maro, gniiuing o'er ti page. , ■ ■• V/hoM pja-bnld character w eptl* mil 'I'll..- iwii extreme* of Button) Mid nf Unite Compound grotesque of eulleunawaad »ht-w The cbaturiug mngule, utd ifae crtwkiugcrow .'» " When heart ooateadi with thy Satumtan head. A root 'it hemlock, end a tump wi ic*d. Mr. Brn^s has done, merits a reprobation so strong, (hat I am as incapable of expressing as uf ceasing to feel it. FURTHER ADDENDA. _301 "I understand, sir." he replied: "you would haffl them hang down, sir, somewhat poetical." Now, if no- thing existed but this little anecdote, it would suffice to prove Pope's taste tor Nature, and the impression which he had ma le on a common-minded man. But I have already quoted Warton and W'alpule (both his ene- mies ) and, were it necessary. I could amply quote Pope himself f >r such tributes to Nature as no poet of the pre- sent day has even approached. His various excellenee i> reallv wonderful : architec- ture, painting, gardening, all are alike subject to his genius. Be ii remembered, that English gardening is the purposed perfectioning of niggard Nature, and that with- out it England is but a hedge-and-ditch, doubte-post- and-rail, Bounslow Hea:h and Clapham Common sort of country, since the principal forests have been felled. It is, in general, fjr from a picturesque country. The case is different with Scotland, Wales, and Ireland; and I except also the lake countries and Derbyshire, together with Elton, Windsor, and my own dear Harrow on the Hill, and some spots near the coast. In the present rank fertility of "great poets of the age," and "schools ol poetry" — a word which, like " schools of eloquence" and ol '* philosophy," is never introduced till the decay of the art has increased with the number of its profes- sors — in the present day, then, there have sprung up two sorts of Naturals ; — ihe Lakers, who whine about Nature because they live in Cumberland ; and their wndersed (which some one has maliciously called the ** Cockney School.") who are enihusiastical for the country because they live in London. It is to be ob- served, thai the rustical founders are rather anxious to disclaim any connexion wilh their metropolitan followers, whom they ungraciously review, and call cockneys, atheists, foolish fellows, bad writers, and other hard names not less ungrateful than unjust. I can under- s'and the pretensions of the aquatic gentlemen of Win- dermere to what Mr. Braliam terms " entusumusy" for lakes, and mountains, and daffodils, and buttercups ; but I should he glad to be apprised of the foundaiion of the London propensities of their imitative brethren to the same " high argument." Sou they, Wordsworth, and Coleridge have rambled over half Europe, and seen Na- It is worthy of remark thai, after all this outcry about 11 in-donr nature" and " artificial images," Pope was the principal inventor of that boast of the English, Modern Gardening. He divides this honour with Milton. Hear Warton: — -'It hence appears, that this enchanting- art of modern gardening, in which this kingdom claims a preference ovei every nation in Europe, chiefly owes its origin and its improvements to two great poets, Milton and Pope." Walpole (no friend to Pope) asserts that Pope formed Kent's taste, and that Kent was the artist to whom the English are chief! v indebted for diffusing *' a taste in laying out grounds." The design of the Prince of Wales's garden was copied from Pope's at Twickenham Warton applauds ''his singular etfort of art and taste, in impressing so much variety and scenery on a spot of five acres." Pope was \hejirst who ridiculed the "for- mal. French, Dutch, false and unnatural taste in gar- dening, " both in prose and verse. (See, for the former, "The Guardian.") " Pope hps given not only some of our Jirst, but best j ture in most of her varieties (although I think that they rules and observations on Architecture and Gardening." \ have occasionally not used her very well ;) but what on (See Warton's Essay, vol. ii, p. BS7, &c &c.) . earth — of earth, and sea. and Nature — have the others Now, is ii noi a shame, after this, to hear our Lakers seen ? Not a Ijalf, nor a tenth part so much as Pope. in " Kendal Green," and our Buccolical Cockneys, cry- ' While they sneer al his Windsor Forest, have they ing out (tfie latter in a widerness of bricks and mortar) ever seen any thing of Windsor except its brick? abo'it *■ Nature," and Pope's •' artificial in-door habits V \ The mosl rural of these gentlemen is mv friend Pope had seen all of nature that England alone can sup- | Leigh Hum. who lives at Hanipstead. I believe that I ply. He was bred in Windsor Forest, and amidst the ! need not disclaim any personal or poetical hostility beautiful scenery of Eton ; he lived familiarly and Ire- | against i hat gentleman. A more amiable man in society quemly at the country seats of Balhilrst, Cobham, Bur- ' I know not • nor (when he will allow his sense to pre- liugtou, Peteiboroflgh,Digby, and Boiingbroke ; amongst i vail over his sectarian principles) a belter writer. When whose seals was ro be numbered Statue. He made his he was writing his " Rimini," I was not the last to own little " five acres" a model to princes, and to the I discover its beauties, long before it was published, first of our artists who imitated nature. Warton thinks ( Even then I remonstrated against its vulgarisms; which "that the mosl engaging of Kent's works was also ' are the more extraordinary, because the author is any [taiind on the model of Pope's. — at least in the opening thing but a vulvar man. Mr. Hunt's answer was, that nd tetiring shades of Venus*s Vale." [ he wrote (hem upon principle; they made part of his It is true hat Pope was infirm and deformed ; but | " system .'."' I then sa ; d no more. When a man talks he could walk, and he could ride (he rode to Oxford j of his system, v i^ like a woman's talking of her virtue. from London at a stretch.) ami he was famous for an I let them talk on. Whether there are writers who exquisite eye. On a tree at Lord Barthurst's is carved ', could have written u Rimini, "' a^ it nn^ht have been *' Here Po|ie sang," — he composed beneath il. Boling- written, I know not; but Mr, Hunt is. probably, the broke, in one of his letters, represents them both writing ' only poet who could have had the heart to spoU his in the hay-field. No poel ever admired Nature more, j own Capo d'Opera. or used her better, than Pope has done, as I will under- With the rest of his young people I have no ac- Uke to prove from his works, prose and verse, if not ! quaintance. except through some things of theirs (which anticipated in so easy and agreeable a labour. I re- ' have been sent out without my desire.) and I confess member a passage in Walpole, somewhere, of a gentle- that till I had read thern I was not aware of the full man who wished to give directions about some willows extent of human absurdity. Like Garrick's "Ode to to a man who had long served Pope iu his grounds: Shakspeare," they •"■ defy criticism." These are of the 302 OBSERVATIONS ON '"ODSERVATIONS." personages who decry Pope. One of them, a Mr. John Ketch, has written some tinei against him, of* which it were belter to be the subjrcl wan the aiiihor. Mr. Hunt redeems himself by occasional beauties; but the real of these poor creatures Beam bo far gone that I would not " march through Coventry with them, that's Ihit !" were 1 in Mr. Hunt's place. 'I'" be sure, he has "led his ragamuffins where Ihey will be well pep- pered j" but b Bystemfinaker muei receive all Bona ol proselytes. When thev have really seen life — when ihey have felt it — when they have travelled beyond the far distant boundaries of the wilds of Middlesex— when ihey have overpassed the Alps of Highga'e, and traced to its sources the Nile of the New River — then, and not till then, can it properly be permitted lo tbem to despise Pope ; who had. if Hot til IV'ilfS, been ntyir it, when he described so beautifully the " artificial" works of the Benefactor of Nature and mankind, the " Man of Ross," whose picture, still suspended in the parlour ^\' the inn, I have s<> often contemplated with reverence for Ins memory, find admiration of the poet, without whom even his own still existing good works could hardlv have preserved his honest renown. I would also observe to my friend Hunt, thai I shall be very glad to see him at Ravenna, no! only for my sin- cere pleasure in his company, and the advantage which a thousand miles or so of travel might produce to a " natural" poet, bui also to point out one or two little things in '" Rimini," which he probably would not have placed in his opening 10 that poemj if he had ever seen Ravenna ; — unless, indeed, it made " part of his Bystem ! !" I must also crave his indulgence for having spoken of his disciples — by no means an agreeable or self-sought subject. If they had said nothing of Popej ihey might have remained " alone with their glory" for BUght I should have said or thought about ihem or their nonsense. Bui if they interfere with the " little Night tngalo" of Twickenham, they may find others who will bear it — / won't. Neither time, nor dis- tance, nor grief, nor age, can ever diminish my vene- ration for him, who is the great moral poet of all rimes, of all climes, of all feelings, and of all stages of existence, The delight of my boyhood, the study of my manhood, perhaps (if allowed to me to attain it) he may be the consolation of my age. His poetry L8 the Hook of Life. Without canting, and yet without neglecting religion, lie has assembled all that a good and great man can gather together of moral wisdom clothed in consummate beauty. Sir William Temple observes, " that of all the members of mankind that live within the compass of a thousand years, for one man that is born capable of making a great poet, there may be a thousand horn capable of making as great generals and ministers of slate as any in story." Here is a statesman's opinion of poetry : it is honourable to him and to (he art. Such a " poet of a thousand years" was Pope. A thousand vears will roll away before such another can be hoped for in our literature. Hut it can uani ihech — he himself is a literature. One word upon his so brutally abused translation of ILuner. " Dr. Clarke, whose Critical exactnes is well known, has not been able to point out above three or four mistakes in the sense through the whole Iliad. The real faults of the translation are of a different kind." So savs Warton, himself a scholar. I' appears by this, then, that he avoided the chief fault of a translator. As to its other faults, they consist in his having made a beautiful English poem of a sublime Greek one. It will alwavs hold. Cowper and all Ihe rest of the blank pretenders may do their beat and their worst : they will never wrench Pope from the hands of a single reader of sense and feeling. The grand distinction of the under f >rms of the new school of poets is their vulgarity. By this I do not mean that they are course, but " shabby-si-n'eel," as it is termed. A man may be c-arst and yet not vulvar, and the reverse. Bunrs itt Ttfirn fnarrr, hut nnvnrwi(rnr Chatierton is never vulgar, nor Wordsworth, nor the higher of the Lake school, though they treat of low life in all its .branches, li i-- in their jftiery that the new under set 1 are must vulvar, and ihey u.a\ be known by this at one.- ■ as what we called at Harrow " a Sunday b ii. i" mighl be easily distinguished from a gentleman, although Ins clothes might be Ihe better cut, and his boots the tied, of the two ; — probably because fie made the one, or cleaned the other, with bis own hands. In the present case, 1 speak of writing not of persons. Of the latter, I know nothing; t*( the former, I judge as it is found. Of my friend Hunt, I have already said, thai he is anything but vulgar in his manners; and of Ins disciples, therefore, I will not judge of their manners from their verses. They may be honourable and gen- tlemaniu nun, for what I know j but the latter quality is Studiously excluded from their publications. rheV remind me of Mr. Smith and the Miss Broughtons at the 1 tampstead Assembly, in " Evelina." In these things (in private life, at least,) 1 pretend tn some small experience ; because, in the course of my youth. 1 have seen a little of all sorts of society, from the Christian prince and the (Mussulman sultan and pacha, and the higher ranks of their countries, down to the London boxer, the "flash and the 8U*etl" the Spanish muleteer, the wandering Turkish dervise, the Scotch highlander, and the A Ibanien robber ; — to say nothing of the curious varieties of Italian social life. Far he il from me to presume that there ever was, or can be such a thing as an aristocracy of potts ; but there fa ;i nobility of thought and ot' style. Open 10 all stations, and derived partly from talent, and partly from education. — which is to be found in Shakspeare, and Pope, and Bums, no less than in Dante and Altieri, hut which is nowhere to be perceived in the mock birds and bards of Mr. Hunt's little chorus. If I were asked to define what this gen- tlemanliness is, I should say that it is only to be defined by examples — of those who have it, and those who have it not. In nj/e, I si an ill say that most military men have it, and few naval ; — that several men of rank have it, and few law vers ; — that, it is more frequent among authors than divines (when they are not pedants) ; dial Jvnctng- masteis have more of it than dancing-masters, and singers than players ; and that (if it be not an li ishuni to say so) it is far more generally diffused among women than among men. In poetry, as well as writing in general) it will never make entirely a poet or a poem ; but neither poet nor poem will ever be good for any thing without it. It is the sail of society, and the seasoning of composition. Vulgarity is far worse than down- right blackguardism ; for the latter comprehends wit, humour, and strong sense at times ; while the former is a sad abort iv.' a i tempi .i: all things, " signif) ing nothing." It does nol depend upon low themes, or even low Ian guage, for Fielding rev-Is in l>oih ; — but is be ever vulgar ? No. You see the man of education, the gen tleman, and the scholar, Sporting with his subject, — its master, not its slave. Your vulgar writer is always most vulgar, the higher, his subject; as the man who showed the menagerie at Pidcock's was wont to Bay, — " This, gentlemen, is the eagle of the sun, from Arch- angel in, Russia; the otttTST it is, the ightrti lie dies." But to the proofs. It is a thmg to be fell more than ex- plained. Let any man take up a volume of Mr. Hunt's subordinate Writers, read (if possible) a couple of pages), and pronounce fo; ■himself, if ihey contain not the kind of writing which may he likened to ■'shabby-genteel" in actual life. When he has done this, let him take up Pope ; — an I when be has laid him down, take up the cockney again — if he can. A SECOND LETTER ON BOWLES'S STRICTURES. 303 NOTE. Note referring toaom*. remarks of Mr. Bowles, relative to Pope" s line* up n Lady Mary W. Montague 1 1 i ink that I could show, il nee usai y, thai Lady Mai y W. Mont i- gue wa> ali i g eaily tobUmeiti thai quarrel not for having rejected, bin lor li.ivi e encouraged him : but I wuuldr uher toe 1 1 - k — -tin null >-tu; alio old have remembered her own line, ■*//• c 'in a loo near, (Aa> cornea to be denied.** re her bo much— her beauty, her talents — that I Bhuuld do tins reluctantly, ^beaidea, am so attached to i 1 "- v r. nam of Maru t that .is Jnhnson once s .id, " If Ifd a J >i; //' rvey, I should luve him ;" sn. if yu were to call a female o\' the sane species *' Mary," I ahuuld hue a heuer th.in others (biped or quadripeJ) of the same Bex with a different appellation. She was an extraordinary woman; she c r scorning the Biri of the crowd, He ■>! .i v cettM to he lurmnl, and 1 10 he jiroud. Till, 'ate "uc. There, Mr. Bnw'es !— what say you to such a supper with s .th a woman ? ami her own description too I la not her " champaigns and chicken" vt or ih a forest or two? Is il i "i pc ttry : h ppears to me that this stanza contaiui the "■furte''* of the whole phi] usophy vf Epicurus : — I mean the practical philosop 1 > of hia school, not the precepts of the master ; fori have been too long at the university not lo kn>w th;it the philosopher was himself a moderate man. But, alter all, would not some of us have been as great fools as Pope ? For my part, I wonder that, with his qmck feelings, her coquetry* and his disappointment, he did no more, — instead vl' writing some lines, which are to be condemned il false, and regretted if true. SOME OBSERVATIONS UPOX AN ARTICLE IN BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE, No. XXIX., August, 1819. ' Why, how now, Hecate? you look angrily." Macbeth. TO J. D. ISRAELI, ESQ. THE AMIABLE AND INGENIOUS AUTHOR OF "THE CALAMITIES" AND " QUARRELS OF AUTHORS;' THIS ADDITIONAL QUARREL AND CALAMITY IS INSCRIBED BY ONE OF THE NUMBER. Ravenna, Mirch 15, 1820. •• The life of a writer" has been said, by Pope, 1 believe, lo be "a warfare upon earth" As far as my own experience has gone, I have nothing lo say against the proposition ; and, like the rest, having once plunged into this slate of hostility, must, however reluc- tantly, carry ilon. An article has appeared in a peri- neal work, entitled "Remarks on Don Juan," which has been so full of this spirit, on the pari of the writer, as to require sotne observations on mine. In the first place. I am not aware by what right the writer assumes tins work, which is anonymous, to be my production. He will answer, that there is internal evi- dence ; that is to say, that there are passages which appear to be written in my name, or in my manner. Bui might not this have been done on purpose by another ? He will say, why not then deny il ? To this I could answer, thai of all the things attributed to me within the last five years, — Pilgrimages lo Jerusalem, Deaths upon Pale Horses, Odes to the Land of the Gaul, Adieus to England Songs to Madame La V detie, Odes to St. Helena, Vampires, and what not, — of which, God knows, I never composed nor read a syllable beyond their titles in advertisements, — 1 never thought it worth while to disavow any, except one which came linked with an account of my " residence in the isle of Milvlcne," where I never resided, and appeared to be carrying the amusement of those persons, who think my name can be of any use to them, a little too far. I should hardly, therefore, if I diJ not take the trouble to disavow these things published in my name, and vet not mine, go out of my way lo deny an anonymous work; which might appear an act of supererogation. With regard to Don Juan, I neilhcr deny nor admit it to be mine— every body may form their own opinion ; but, if there be any who now, or in the progress of thai poem, if il is to be continued, feel, or should feel them- selves so aggrieved as to reipiire a more explicil answer, privately and personally, they shall have it. I have never shrunk from the responsibility of what I have written, and have more than once incurred oblo- quy by neglecting lo disavow what was attributed to my pen without foundation. The greater part, however, of the " Remarks on Don Juan" contain but liltle on the work itself, which re- ceives an extraordinary portion of praise as a composi- tion. -With the exception of some quotations, and a few incidental remarks, the rest of the article is neither more nor less than a personal attack upon the inquired author. It is not the first in the same publication; for I recollect to have read, some time ago, similar remarks upon " Beppo" (said to have been written by a cele- brated northern preacher) ; in which the conclusion drawn was, that " Childe Harold, Byron, and the Count in Beppo, were one and the same person ;" thereby making me turn out to be, as Mrs. Maleprop says, il like Cerberus, three gentlemen ntonre." That article was signed " Presbyter Anglicanus;" which I presume, being interpreted, means Scotch Pr-shvtenan. I must here observe, — and it is at once ludicrous aud vexation 804 OBSERVATIONS UPON AN ARTICLE to be compelled so frequently to repeat the same thing, — that my case, as an author, is peculiarly hard, in being everlastingly taken, or mistaken for my own pro- tagonist. It is unjust and particular. I never heard that my friend .Moore was sel down for a fire-worshipper on account of his Guebie ; that Scott was identified wiili Roderick Dim, or with Balfour of BuHey ; or that, notwithstanding all ihe magicians in Thataba, anybody has ever taken Mr. Soulhey for a conjuror ; whereas I have had some difficulty in extricating me even from Manfred, who, as Mr. SoutheV slily observes in one of his articles in the Quarterly, " mei ihe devil on the Jungfran, and bullied him:" and I answer Mr. Soulhey, who has apparently, in his poetical life, not been so successful against ihe great enemy, thai, in this, Man- fred exactly lollowed ihe sacred precept, — " Resist the devil, and lie will flee from you." — I shall have no more to say on th^ subject of ibis person — not the devil, hut his most humble servant Mr. Soulhey — before I Con- clude ; but, for the present, I must reiurn to the article in the Edinburgh Magazine. In ihe course of this article, amidst some extraordinary observations, there occur the following words: — " Ii appears, in short, as if ibis miserable man, having ex- hausted every species of sensual gratification, — having drained the cup of sin even to its bitterest dregs, were resolved to show us that he is no longer a human bring even in his frailties, — but a cool, unconcerned fiend, laughing with a detestable glee over the whole of the better and worse elements of which human life is com- posed." In another place there appears, "the lurking place of his selfish and polluted exile." — " By my troih, these be bitter words!" — With regard lo ihe first sen- tence, I shall content myself with observing, thai u appears to have been composed for Sardanapalus, Tibe- rius, the Regent Duke of Orleans, or Louis XV.; and that I have copied it with as much indifference as I would a passage from Suetonius, or from any of ihe private memoirs of the regency, conceiving it to be amply refuted by the terms in which it is expressed, and to be utterly inapplicable lo any private individual. On the words, " lurking-place," and " selfish and polluted exile," I have something mora to say. — How far the capital city of a government, which survived the vicis- situdes of thirteen hundred years, and might still have existed but for the treachery of Buonaparte, and the iniquity of his imitators, — a city which was the empo- rium of Europe when London and Edinburgh were dens of barbarians, — may be termed a " lurking-place," I leave to those who have seen or heard of Venice to de- cide. How far my exile may have been " polluted," it is not for me to say, because the word is a wide one, and, with some of its branches, may chance to over- shadow the actions of most men ; but that it has been 11 selfish" I deny. If, to the extent of my means and my power, and my information of their calamities, io have assisted many miserable beings, reduced by the decay of the place of their birth, and their consequent loss of substance — if to have never rejected an applica- tion which appeared founded on truth — if to have ex- pended in this manner sums far out of proportion to my fortune, there and elsewhere, be selfish, then have I been selfish. To have done such things I do not deem much ; but it is hard indeed lo be compelled to recapi- tulate ihem in my own defence, by such accusations as that before me, like a panel before a jury calling lesli- monics to his character, or a soldier recording his services to obtain his discharge. If the person who has made the charge of " selfishness" wishes to inform himself further on the subject, he may acquire, not what he would wish lo find, but what will silence and >hame him, by applying to the Consul-General of our nation, resi- dent in ihe place, who will be in the case either to con- firm or deny what I have asserted. I neither make, nor have ever made, prptensions to sanctity of demeanour, nor regularity of conduct ; but my means have been expended principally on my own gratification, neither now nor heretofore, neither in ' England nor our of ii ; and it wants hut a word from me, if I thought thai word decent or necessary, to call forth the most willing witnesses, and at once wiincssei i and proofs, in England itself, to show thai there are those who have derived not the mere temporary relief of B wretched boon, but the means which led ihem to im- mediate happiness and ultimate independence, by my want of thai very " sefySsAfieSf , H as grossly as falsely now imputed to rny conduct. Had I been a selfish man — had 1 been a grasping man — had I been, in the worldly sense of ihe word even a yrut tent man. — I should not be where I now am ; I should not have taken the step which was the first that led lo the events whtcfa have sunk and swoln a gulf be- tween me and mine; but in this respect the truth will one day be made known : in the mean time, as Duran- dearte says, in the Cave of Mouiesinos, "Patience, and shuffle the cards." I bitterly feel the ostentation of this statement, the first of the kind I have ever made ; I feel ihe degrada- tion of being compelled lo make it; but I also feel iis truth, and I (rust to feel it on my deaih-bed. should it be my lot to die there. I am not less sensible of the ego- tism of all this; but, alas! who have made me thus egotistical in my own defence, if not thev, who, by per- versely persisting in referring fiction to uuih,and tracing poetry lo life, and regarding characters of imagination as creatures of existence, have made me personally responsible for almost every poetical delineation which fancy and a particular bias of thought, may have tended to produce ? The writer continues : — M Those who are acquainted, as who is not ? with the main incidents of the private life of Lord B.," &c. Assuredly, whoever may be ac- quainted with these " mnin incidents," the writer of the 11 Remarks on Don Juan" is noi,or he would use a very different language. That which I believe he alludes lo as a " main incident," happened lo be a very subordi- nate one, and the natural and almost inevitable OOnse* qiience of events and circumstances long prior to the period at which it occurred, it is the last drop which makes the cup run over, and mine was already full. — But, to return to this man's charge : he accuses Lord B. of " an elaborate satire on ihe character and man- ners of his wife." From what parts of Don Juan the writer has inferred this he himself best knows. As far as I recollect of the female characters in that produc- tion, there is but one who is depicted in ridiculous co- lours, or that could be interpreted as a satire upon any body. But here my poetical sins are again visited upon me, supposing that the poem l>e mine. If 1 depict a corsair, a misanthrope, a libertine, a chief of insurgents, or an infidel, he iaset down to the author; and if, in a poem I >v no means ascertained to he my production, there appears a disagreeable, casuistical, and by no means respectable female pedant, it i* set down tor my wile. Is there any resemblance ? If there be, it is in those who make it . 1 can sec none. In my writings I have rarely described any character under a fictitious name : those of whom I have spoken have had their own — in many cases a stronger satire in itself than an\ which could be appended to it. But of real circ -tames I have availed myself plentifully, both in tin- serious and the ludicrous — they are to poetry what landscapes are to the painter; but my ,/Sjgvrst am not portraits. It may even have happened] thai I have seised on some events that have occurred under my own observation, or in my own family, as I would paint a view from my grounds, did il harmonise wilh my picture; hut I never would introduce the likenesses of its living members, unless IN Bf, A CKWOOD'S MAGAZ'NE. 305 Ibur features could be made as favourable :o themseh es as to the effect ; which, in the above instance, would be extremeH* difficult. Mv learned l)roiher proceeds to observe, that " it is in vain for Lord B. tu attempt in anv way to justify his own h-diaviour in that affair ; and now that he has so optnly ami audaciously invited enquiry and reproach, we do not see any good reason why he should not be plainly told so by ihe voice of his countrymen. How f;ir the " openness* 1 of an anonymous poem, and the " audacity" of an imaginary character, which the writer supposes (•> be meant for Lady B., may be deemed to merit this f irmidabJe denunciation from their " most sweet voices," I neither know nor care; but when lie tells me that I cannot " in any way justify my own behaviour in that affair," ! acquiesce, because no man can "justify" : until he knows of what he is accused ; and I have never had — and, God knows, my whole desire has ever been to obtain it — anv specific charge, in a tan- gible shape, submitted lo rne by the adversary, nor by others, unless the atrocities of public rumour and ihe mysterious silence of the lady's legal advisers may be deemed such. But is not the writer content with what has been already said and d>-ne ? Has not " the general voice of his countrymen" long ago pronounced upon ihe subject — sentence without trial, and condemnation with- out a charge? Have I not been exiled by ostracism, except that the shells which proscribed me were anonv- mous ? Is ihe writer ignorant of the public opinion and the public conduct upon that occasion 1 If he is, I am not : the public will forget both, long before I shall cease to remember either. The man who is exiled by a faction has the consola- tion of thinking that he is a martyr; he is upheld bv hope and the dignity of his cause, real or imaginary: he who withdraws from the pressure of debt may indulge in ihe thought that time and prudence will retrieve his circumstances: he who is condemned by the law, has a term to his banishment, or a dream of its abbreviation ; or, it may be, ihe knowledge or ihe belief of some in- justice of the law, or of its administration in his own particular; but he who is outlawed bv general opinion, without the intervention of hostile politics, illegal judg- ment, or embarrassed circumstances, whether he be in- nocent or guilty, must undergo all the bitterness of exile, without hope, without pride, without alleviation. Tins case was mine. Upon what grounds the public founded their opinion, I am not aware : but it was general, and it was decisive. Of me or of mine they knew little, except that I had written what is called poetry, was a nobleman, had married, became a father, and was in- volved in differences with my wife and her relatives, no one knew why, because the persons complaining refused to state their grievances- The fashionable world was divided into parlies, mine consisting of a very small minority: the reasonable world was naturally on the stronger side, which happened to be Lhe lady's, as was most proper and polite. The press was active and ■cuirifaus; and such was the rage of the day, that the unfortunate publication of two copies of verses, rather complimentary than otherwise lo the subjects of both, was tortured info a species of crime, or constructive Eetty treason. I was accused nf every monstrous vice y public rumour and private rancour: my name, which had boen a knightly or a nobie one since my fathers helped to conquer the kingdom for William the Norinan, was tainted. I fell thai, if what was whispered, and muttered, and murmured, was true, 1 was unfit for Eng- land ; if false, England was unfit fur me. I withdrew: but this was not enough. In other countries, in Swit- zerland, in the shadow of the Alps, and bv the blue depih of the lakes, 1 was pursued and breathed upon by the same blight. I Crossed the mountains, but ii was the now'; so I went a little farther, and settled myself 33 by ihe waves of the Adriatic, like the stag at bay, who be'ak'-s him to the waters. If' I may judge by ihe sia'enients of the few friends who gathered round me, the outcry of ihe period to which I B hide was beyond all precedent, all parallel, even in those cases where political motives have shar- pened slander and doubled enmity. I was advUed not to oo to the iheatres, lest I should be hissed, nor to my duty in parliament, lest 1 should be insulted by the way; even on the day of my departure, my most intimate friend told me afterwards, 'hat he was under apprehen- sions of violence from the people who might be assem- bled ai the door of lhe carriage. However, I was not .deterred by these counsels from seeing Kean in his best I characters, nor from voting according to my principles ; land with regard to ihe third and last apprehensions of mv friends. I could not share in tliejn, not being made acquainted with their extent, (ill some lime after I had crossed the Channel. Even if I had been so, I am not of a nature to be much a Heeled by men's anger, though I niav feel hurl by their aversion. Against all indivi- dual outrage, I could protect or redress myself; and againsi that of a crowd, I should probably have been enabled to defend myself, with the assistance of others, as has been done on similar oocasions. I retired from the country, perceiving that I was the object of general obloquy ; I did not indeed imagine, like Jean Jacques Rousseau, that all mankind was in a con- spiracy against me, though I had perhaps as good grounds for such a chimera as ever he had : but I perceived that I had to a great extent become personally obnoxious in England, perhaps through my own fault, but the fact was indisputable; the public in general wouid hardly have been so much excited against a more popular cha- racter, without at least an accusation or a charge of some kind actually expressed or substantiated, (or I can hardly conceive that ihe common and every-day occur- rence of a separation between man and wife could in itself produce so great a ferment. I shall say nothing of the usual complaints of " being prejudged," "con- demned unheard," "unfairness," " partiality," and so forth, the usual changes rung by parties who have had, or are to have, a trial ; but I was a little surprised to find myself condemned without being favoured with the act of accusation, and to perceive in the absence of this portentous charge or charges, whatever it or they were to be, that every possible or impossible crime was rumoured to supply its place, and taken for granted. This could only occur in the case of a person very much disliked, and I knew no remedy, having already used lo their e.Menl whatever little powers I might possess of pleasing in society. I had no party in fashion, though I was afterwards told that there was one — but it was not of my formation, nor did I then know of its existence — none in literal ure ; and in politics I had voted with the Whigs, wiih precisely that importance which a Whig vote possesses in these Tory days, and with such personal acquaintance with the leaders in both houses as the society in which I lived sanctioned, but without claim or expectation of any thing like friend- ship from any one, except a few young men of my own age and standing, and a few others more advanced in life, which last it had been my fortune to serve in cir- cumstances of difficulty. This was, in fact, to stand atone: and I recollect, some lime after, Madame de Stael said to me in Switzerland, " You should not have warred with the world— it will not do — it is too strong always for any individual: 1 myself once tried it in early life, but it will not do." I perfectly acquiesce in the truth of this remark ; but the world had done me ihe {honour to begin the war; and, assuredly, if peace is (only to be obtained by courting and paying tribute to it, ! I am not qualified to obtain its countenance. I thought, in die words of Campbell, 306 OBSERVATIONS UPON AN ARTICLE " Then wed thee to an sailed tot. And il the world hath loved the* not, lu abaenca may be borne." I recollect, however, that, having been much hurt by Romilly's conduct, (he, having a general retainer for me, had acted as adviser to ihe adversary, alleging, on being reminded of his retainer, that he had (woollen il, as Ms clerk had so many.) I observed that some of those who were now eagerly laying ihe axe to my roof- tree, might see iheir own shaken, and feel a portion of what they had inflicted.— His [ell, and Crushed bun. I have heard of, and believe, that there are human beings so constituted as to be insensible to injuries ; nut [believe that the best mode to avoid lakino ven- geance is to gel out of the way of tempin I hope thai I may never have the opportunity, for I am not quite sure that I could resist it, having derived from my mother something of the " perfervidum ingenium Scolomm." I have not sniiohl, and shall nol seek it, and perhaps it may never come in my paih. I do not in llus allude lo the partywho might be right or wrong : but to many who made her cause ihe pretext of their own bitterness. She, indeed, must have long avenged me in her own feelings; for whatever ber reasons may have been (and sin- never adduced ihein lo me at least), she probably neither contemplated nor conceived to what she became the means of conducting the father of her child, and the husband of her choice. So much fir " the general voice of his countrymen :" 1 will now speak of some in particular. In the beginning of the year 1817, an an icle appeared in the Quarterly Review, written, I believe, by Waller Scott*, doing gnat honour to him, anil no disgrace to me, though both poetically and personally more than sufficiently favourable to the work and ihe author of whom it treated. Il was written at a time when a se fish man would not, and a timid ono dared not, have said a word in favour of either ; it was written by one to whom temporary public opinion had elevated me to the rank of a rival — a proud distinction, and unmerited ; but which has not prevented me from feeling as a friend, nor htm from more than corresponding to lhal sentiment. The article in question was written upon ihe Third Canto of Childe Harold ; and after many observations, which it would as ill become me to repeal as to forget, concluded with " a hope that I might yet reiurn to England." How ibis expression was received in Eng- land uself I am not acquainted, but it gave great "If. nee at Koine to ihe respectable ten or iweniy thousand English travellers then and there assembled. I did not visit Rome lill some time after, so thai I had no oppor- tunity of knowing the fact; but I was infin I, long afterwards, that the greatest indignation had been mani- fested in the enlighteni d Anglo-cin leof thai year, which happened to comprise within it — amidst a considerable leaven of Welbeck street and Devonshire Place, broken louse upon their Iravels— several really well-born and v ell-bred families, who did not the less parlicipale in ihe fooling. .f the hour. " Witt) should he return in Eng- land ?" was Ihe general exclamation — I answer why ? It is a question 1 have occasionally asked myself, and I never vet could give it a satisfactory reply. I had then nolhoiightsof returning, and if I have any now, they are of business, and not of pleasure. Amidst the ties that have been dashed to pieces, there are links yet entire, Ihouoh the chain ils.-lf be broken. There are duties, and "connections, which may one day require my pre- sence and I am a faiber. I have still some friends whom I wish lo meet again, and it may be an enemy. These things, and those minuter details of business, which lime accumulates during absence, in every man's affairs and properly, may, and probably will, recall me lo — — — — ■ • Sog lluarvurly Revwv, Vol. x»l. p. 1T8. England ; but 1 shall return with the same feelings with which I left it, in respect to itself, [hough altered with reward to individuals, as I have been more or less in- formed of their conduct since my departure ; for it was only a considerable time after it lhal I was made ac- quainted with Ihe real facts and full ex'tnl of some of Iheir proceedings and language. My friends, like other friends, from concilialory motives, withheld from me much thai they could, and some things which ihey ahmibl have unfolded ; however, thai which is deferred is not lost- bul it has been no fault of mine that il has been de- ferred al all. I haw alluded to what is said to have passed at Rome merely to show that the sentiment which I have deecri- !,. I wa nol confined to Ihe English in England, and as forming pan of my answer to the reproach cast upon what Ins ben called my " selfish exile," and my " vo- luntary exile." " Voluntary" it has been ; for who would dwell among a people entertaining Strom; hosli- lily against him? How far il has been " selfish" lias been already explained. I have now arrived at a passage describing me as having vented my " spleen against the lofty-minded and virtuous men," men " whose virtues few indeed can equal ;" meaning, I humbly presume, the notorious tri nnivirate known by the name of" Lake Poets" in theii aggregate capacity, and by Soulhey, Wordsworlh, and Coleridoe, when taken singly. I wish tosay a word or two upon the virtues of one of ihose persons, public and private, lor reasons which will soon appear. When I left England in April, 1816, ill in mind, in body, and in circumstances, I took up my residence at Coligny, by ihe lake of Geneva. The sole companion of mv journey was ayoting physician,* who had to make his way in the world, and having seen very little of it. was naturally and laudably desirous of seeing more so- ciety than suited my present habits or my past expe- rience. I therefore presented him to those gentlemen of Geneva for whom I had letters of introduction ; and having thus seen him in a situation to make his own wav, retired for my own part entirely from society, with the exception of one English family, living at about a quarter of a mile's distance from Dlodsli, and with the further exception of some occasional intercourse with Coppet at the wish of Madame de Slael. The English family lo which I allude consisted of two ladies, a getuieman and his son, a boy of a year old.f One of" these lofty -minded and trirruotu men" in ihe words of the Edinburgh Magazine, made. I understand, about ibis time, or soon after, a lour in Switzerland. (hi his return lo England, he circulated — and for any thing I know, invented — a report, that ihe gentleman lo whom I have alluded and myself were living in promis cuous intercourse wiih two sisters, " having formed a league of incest" (I quote the words as they "ere stated tome), and indulged himself on Ihe natural comments upon such a conjunction, which are said lo have been repeated publicly, with great complacency, by another of lhal poetical fraternity, of whom I shall say only, thai even had Ihe story been true, he should not have repealed il, as far as il regarded myself, except in sor- row. The lale itself requires but a word in answer — the ladies were not sisters, nor in any degree con- nected, except bv the second marriage of iheir respective parents, a widower with a widow, bolh being ihe off- spring of former marriages ; neither of them were, in 1816, nineteen years old. "Promiscuous intercourse" could hardly have disgusted the great palron of panti- socracy, (does Mr. Southey remember such a scheme ?) but there was none. How far tins man, who, as author of Wat Tyler, has • Pr Polirl^ri— author ofthe " Vamptra " t Mr. auo Mre. Shelley, Miaa Clarmool, aud Maatae Shelter IN BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. 307 been proclaimed by the Lord Chancellor guilty of a trea- sonable ami blasphemous libel, and denounced in the House of Commons, by the upright and able member for Norwich as a " rancorous renegado," be fit for sit- ting as a judge upon others, let others judge. He lias said that for this expression M he brands William Smith on the forehead as a calumniator," and lh;il " the mark will outlast his epitaph." How long William Smith's epitaph will last, and in what words it will be written, I know not, bul William Smiih's words form the epitaph itself of Robert Soothey. He has written Wat Tyler, and taken the office of poet laureate — he has, in the Life of Henry Kiike White, denominated reviewing II the ungenile craft," and has become a reviewer — he was one of the projectors of a scheme, called " pantiso- <-: u v." for having all things, including women, in com- Mi .n, {query, common women ?) and he sets up as a moralist — he denounced ihe battle of Blenheim, and he praised the battle of Waterloo — he loved Mary Woll- stoiicraft, and he tried to blast the character of her daughter {one of the young females mentioned) — he wrote treason, and serves the king — he was the butt of the An'.i-jacobin, and he is the prop of the Quarterly Review; licking the hands that smote him, eating ihe bread of his enemies, and internally writhing beneath his own contempt, — he would fain conceal, under anony- mous blister, and a vain endeavour to obtain the esteem of others, after having for ever lost his own, his leprous Benae of his own degradation. What is ihere in such a man to " envy?'* Who ever envied the envious? Is it his birth, his name, his fame, or his virtues, that I am to "envy?" I was born of the aristocracy, which he abhorred ; and am sprung, by my mother, from ihe kings who preceded those whom he has hired himself lo sing. It cannot, then, be his birth. As a poet, I have, for the p ist eight years, had nothing to apprehend from a com- petition ; and for the future, " that life to come in every poet's creed," it is open to all. I will only remind Mr. Souihey, in the words of a critic, who, if still living, would have annihilated Southey's literary existence now and ht-re.ifter, as the sworn foe of charla'ans and impostors, from Macpherson downwards, that K those dr. nuns were Settle's once and Ogilby's ;" and for niv own pan, I assure him. thai whenever he and his sect are remembered, I shall be proud to be " forgot." Thai he is not Content with Ins soeeese as a poet may reason- ably be believed— he has been the nine-pin of reviews ; the E linburgh knocked him down, and the Quarterly set him up ; the government found him useful in the pe- riodical line, and made a point of recommending his works to purchasers, so that he is occasionally bought, (I mean Ins books, as well as the author,) and mav be found on the same shelf, if not upon the table, of most of the eenth-m-'n employed in the different offices. With regard to his private virtues, I know nothing — >>f Lis principles, I have heard enough. As far as having been, i i the besl of niv power, benevolent toothers, I do not frar the comparison ; and for the errors of the pas-ions, was Mr. Si »ui hey tdway* so tranquil anil stainless ? Did ho RflW Covel his neighbour's wife? Did lie never ia- lumnia'e his neighbour's wile's daughter, the offspring ol her he coveted ? So much for the apostle of pan- tl-'MT.1.-V. Of the " loftv-minded. virtuous" Wordsworth, one anecdote will suffice to speak his sincerity. In a con- versation with Mr. upon poetry, he concluded with, u After all, I would not give five shillings f.ir all that Southey has ever written." Perhaps this calcula- tion night rather show his esteem for five shillings than his low estirna'e of Dr. Southev ; but considering that when he was in his need, and Southey had a shilling, Wordsworth is said to have had generally a sixpence out of it, it has an awkward sound in the way of valuation. This anecdote was told me by persons who, if quoted by name, would prove that its genealogy is poetical as well as true. I can give my amhority for this ; and am ready to adduce it also for Mr. Southey's circulation of the falsehood before mentioned. Of Coleridye, I shall say nothing — vihy t he may divine. I have said more of these people than I intended in this place, being somewhat stirred by the remarks which induced me to commence upon the topic. I see nothing in these men as poets, or as individuals — little in their talents, and less in their characters, to prevent honest men from expressing for them considerable contempt, in prose or rhyme, as it may happen. Mr. Southey has the Quarterly for his field of rejoinder, and Mr. Words- worth his postscripts to " Lyrical Ballads," where the two gieat instances of the sublime are taken from him- self and Milton. " Over her own sweel voice the stock- dove broods;" that is to say, she has the pleasure of listening to herself, in common with Mr. Wordsworth upon most of his public appearances. " What divinity doth hedge" these persous, that we should respect them? Is it Apollo? Are they not of those who called Dry- den's Ode " a drunken song?" who have discovered that Gray's Elegy is full of faults, (see Coleridge's Life, vol. i. note, for Wordsworth's kindness in point- ing this out to him,) and have published what is allowed to be ihe very worst prose lhat ever was written, to prove that Pope was no poet, and that William Words- worth is ? In other points, are they respectable, or respected ' Is it on the open avowal of apostasy, on the patronage of government, that their claim is founded? Who is there who esteems those parricides of their own prin- ciples ? They are, in fact, well aware that the reward of the.r change has been any thing but honour. The times have preserved a respect for political consistency, arid, even though changeable, honour the unchanged. Look at Moore: it will be long ere Southey meets with such a triumph in London as Moore met with in Dub- lin, even if the government subscribe for it, and set the money down to secret service. It was not less to the man than to the poet, to the tempted but unshaken pa- triot, to the not opulent hut incnrrupiible fellow citizen, lhat the warm-hearted Irish paid the proudest of tri- butes. Mr. Souihey mav upplaud himself to the world, but he has his own heartiest contempt; and the fury with which he foams against all who stand in the pha- lanx which he forsook, is, as William Smiih described it, " the rancour of ihe rrntgado," the bad language of the prostitute who siands at the corner of the street, and showers her slang upon all, except Mose who may have bestowed upon her her " little shilling." Hence his qnarlerlv overflowings, political and lite- rary, in what he has himself termed " the ungentle craft," and his especial wrath against Mr. Leigh Hunt, notwithstanding thai Hunt has done mop* fur Words- worth's reputation as a poet (such as it is), than all the Lakers could in their interchange of self-praises for the last twenty-five years. And here I wish to say a few words on the present sta'e of English poetry. That this is the age of the decline of. English poetry will be doubled by few who have calmly considered die subject. That there are men of genius among the present poets makes linle against the fact, because ii has been well said, that " next to him who forms the taste of his country, the greatest genius is he who corrupts it." No one has evrr ilrnjerl genim to M;irino, who corrupted not merely the ta^te of Italy, hut that of all Europe for nearb a cen'iirv. The great cause of the present deplorable stale of English poetry is to be attributed to that absurd and systematic depreciation of Pope, in which, for the last few years, there has been a kind { epidemical con- currence. Men 'of ihe mofat oppos * opinions have 30S OBSERVATIONS UPON AN ARTICLE united upon this topic Warlon Mid Churchill began it, having borrowed the hint probably from the heroes of the Dunciad, ami their own internal conviction that their proper reputation can be as nothing till the mosi perfect and harmonious of poet! — he who, having no fault, has had reason mode his reproach — was reduced to what they conceived to be Ins level; but even they dared not degrade him below Dry den. Goldsmith, and Rogers, and Campbell, his mosi successful disciples; and Hayley, who, however feeble, has left one poem "that will not be willingly let die" ^die Triumphs of Temper), kept up the reputation of thai pure and per- fect style ; and Crabbe, the firsi r»f living poets, his almost equalled the master. Thru tame Darwin, win. was put down by a single poem in I ha Antijacobin;* and the Cruscans, from Merry to Jernihghain, who were annihilated (if Nothing can be said to be anni- hilated) by Clifford, the last of the wholesome satirists. At the same time Mr. Southey was favouring the public with Wal Tyler and Juan of Arc, to the great glory of the Drama and Epos. I h'g pardon, W'a! Tyler, with Peter Bell, was still in M. S., and it was not till after Mr. Southey had received his Malmsey butt, and Mr. Wordsworthf became qualified to gtiage it, that the great revolutionary tragedy came before the public and the Court of Chancery. Wordsworth was peddling his lyrical ballads, and brooding a preface, lo be succeeded in due course by a postscript ; both couched in such prose as must give peculiar delight to those who have read the prefaces of Pope and Dryden ; scarcely less celebrated for the beauty of their prose, than for the charms of their verse. Wordsworth is the reverse of Molicre's gentleman who had been " talking prose all his life, without knowing it;" for he thinks that he has been all his life writing bom prose and verse, and neither of what he conceives to be such can be properly said to be either one or the other. Mr. Cole- ridge, the future votes, poet and seer of the Morning Pust, (an honour also claimed by Mr. Fitzgerald, of the " Rejected Addresses,") who ultimately prophesied the downfall of Buonaparte, to which he himself mainly contributed, by giving him the nickname of H the Corsi- ca*," was then employed in predicating the damnation ot Mr. Pitt, and the desolation of England, in the two v«rv best copies of verses he ever wrote : to wit, the infernal eclogue of " Eire, Famine, and Slaughter," and the " Ode to the departing Year." These three personages, Southey, Wordsworth, and Col-ridge, had all of them a very natural antipathy to Pope ; and I respect them for it, as the only ori- ginal feeling or principle which ihey have contrived to preserve. But they have been joined in it by ihose who have joined thorn in nothing else : by the Edinburgh Reviewers, bv die whole heterogeneous mass of living English poets, excepiing Crabbc, Rogers, Gilford, and Campbell, who, both by precept and practice, have proved their ad'ierence ; and by me, who have shame- fully deviated in practice, but have ever loved and ho- noured Pope's poetry with my whole soul, and hope to do so till my dying day. 1 would rather Bee all I have ever written lining the same trunk in which 1 actually read the eleventh book ofa model n epic poem at Malia, in 1811, (I opened it to take out a change afier the paroxysm ofa tertian, in ilv absence of my servant, and found it lined with the name of the maker, Eyre, Cock- " " The I-ovpi of the Triangles," tlir Joint production of Mtun. Caiuiinj- awl Frtie. f i ;..M«unifi liu anticipated the il. Guition of the l.nkn pot try, n* far Mcuchlhlaga can be djfiueil " OtotUmt n the prwent (ill f>f jM*tir common epic poevu, which Mini frurn in* preu like jmjht kite* hi mjmmer ; then? *re nen« of your Tui uutea or Dido* lo It . ff ■ * anhigtoticat a*tcriptitm oj nnturu. I oi 1 1) bfll you'll eudwvour lo make fourtouti In wiiioa with ntuCi and Stto with In* name tnthuttmtm at: tli which I A/ir« wHrfon." Would uotthltliata mad« ■ \>%u\>tr proem tn the Ruunloa, and the \>ae\ and his pedlar ? Ii wonld hav| tnawcred « 1 1. . i iv i»i Ujut piirjrmc. had it uol uut*oruiu«it«ljf Utu writtou m ^h«I t^rWliy spur Street, and with the epic poetry alluded to.) than sacrifii e what I Gtmly believe in as the Christianity of English poetry, the poetry of Cop.'. But the Edinburgh Reviewer*, and the Lakers, and Hunt and his school, and every body else with tin it school] and even Moore without a school, and dilettanti lecturers at institutions, and elderly gentle on n who translate and imitate, and young ladies who lisi < repeat, Imroneis who draw indifferent frontispieces for bad poels. an I noblemen who let them dine with ihem in the country, the small body of the wits and the great body of the blues, have latterly united in a deprecial ion, of which their f,»t hers would have been as much ashamed as their children will be. In the mean time, what have we got instead? The Lake school, which begun with ah epic poera 9 written in six weeks," (so Joan of Arc proclaimed herself,) and finished with a ballad Composed in twenty \-ars, as " Puter Bell's" creator takes care to inform the few who will enquire. Whai have we gol instead? A deluge of flimsy and unin- telligible romances, imitated from Scott and myself, who have botli made the heel of our bad materials and erro- neous system. What have we got instead 3 Madoc, which is neither an epic nor any thing else ; Thalaha, Kehama, tiebir, and such gibberish, written in all metres and in n<> language. Hunt, who had powers to have made " the Story of Rimini" as perfect as a fable of Dryden, has thought fit lo sacrifice his genius and his taste to some unintelligible notions of Wordsworth, which I defy him to explain. Moore has But why continue? — All, with the exception of Crabbe, Rogers, and Campbell, who may be considered as having taken their station, will, by the blessing of God, survive their own reputation, without attaining any very extraordinary period of longevity. Of course there mnsi DO a still further exception in favour of those who, having never obtained any reputation at all, unless it be among provincial literati, and their own families, have none to lose ; and of Moore, who, as the Burns of Ireland, pos- sesses a fame which cannot be lost. The greater part of the poets mentioned, however, have been able to gather together a few followers. A paper of the Connoisseur says, that " it is observed by the French, that a cat, a priest, and an old woman, are sufficient to constitute a religions sect in England." The same number of animals, wall some difference in kind, will suffice for a poetical one. If we take Sir George Braumrml instead of the priest, and Mr. Words- worth fur the old woman, we shall nearly complete the quota required ; but I fear that Mr. Southey will but in- differently represent the CAT, having shown himself but too distinctly lobe ofa species to which that nolle crea- ture is peculiarly hosl ih>. Nevertheless] I Will OOl »<> so far as Wordsworth in his postscript, who pretends that no great poet ever bad immediate fame; which being interpreted, means ■hat William Wordsworth is not quite so murh read by his coiemporaries as mighl be desirable. This as- sertion is as false as it is foolish. Homer's glorj de- pended upon ins present popularity : he recited, — and, without ihe strongest impression of the moment, who would have gotten the Uiad by heart, and given it to tradition .' Ennius, Terence, Platitua, Lucretius, Ho- race, \ irgil, JSschylus, Sophocles, Euripides, Sappho, Anacreon, Theocritus, all the great poets of antiquity, were the delight of their coiemporaries. The very ex- istence ofa poet, previous to the invention of printing, depended upon his present popularity; and how often has it impaired his future fame? Haidly ever. History informs us that the best have rome down to us. The reason is evident; ihe most popular found the greatest number of transcribers fir their MSS., and that iho taste of their ^temporaries was corrupt can hardly be avouched by the moderns, ihe mightiest of whom have IN BLACKWOOD'S MAOAZINR. 309 but barely approached them. Dante, Peirareh, Ariqsto, and TassO] were all the darlings of the cotempurary reader. Dante's Poetn was celebrated Long before bis death: and, not lori;! after it, Slates negotiated for his ashes, and disputed for the siies of the composition of the Divina Cummedia. Petrarch was crowned in the Capitol. Ariusto was permitted lo pass free hy the public robber who had read the Orlando Furioso. I would ri'H recommend Mr. Wordsworth to try the same experiment with his Smugglers. Tasso, notwithstand- ing the criticisms of the Cruseanti, would have been crowned in the Capitol, but fur his death. It is easy to prove the immediate popularity nf the chief poets of the only modern nation in Europe that has a poetical language, the Italian. In our own, Suakspeare, Spencer, Jonson, Waller, Dryden, Cou- greTB] Pupe, Young, Shenstone, Thomson, Johnson, Goldsmith, Gray, were all as popular in their lives as since. Gray'." Elegy pleased instantly, and eternally. His Odes did not, nor yet do they, please like his Elegy, Milton's politics kept him down. But the Epigram of Dryden,* and the very sale of his work, in. proportion to the less reading time of its publication, prove him to have been honoured by his cotemporaries. I will ven- ture to assert, that ihe sale of the Paradise Lost was greater in the firal four years after its publication, than that of " The Excursion" in the same number, wiih the dtffercnce of nearly a century and a half between them «»f time, and of thousands in point of general read- ers. Notwithstanding Mr. Wordsworth'? having press- ed Milton into his service as one of those not presently popular, to favour his own purpose of proving that our grandchildren will read him (the said William Words- worth,) I would recommend him to begin first with our grandmothers. But he need not be alarmed; he may yel live to see all the envies pass away, as Darwin and Seward, and Hoole, and Hole, and Hoyle have passed away; but their declension will not be his ascension : he is essentially a bad writer, and all the failures of others can never strengthen him. He may have a sect, but he will never have a public ; and his "audience" will always be "few" without being i Jit" — except for Bedlam. It may be asked, why, having tins opinion nf the presenl slate of poetry in England, and having had ii long, as my friends and others well knew — possessing, or having possessed too, as a writer, the earof the public for the time being — I have not adopted a different plan in my own compositions, and endeavoured to correct rather than encourage the taste of the day. To ihis I wool, I answer, thai it is easier to perceive the wrong than lo pursue the right, ami that I have never contem- plated the prospect " of filling (wiih Peter B<-11, see its Preface) permanently a station in the literature of the Country." Those who know me best, know this, and that I have been considerably astonished at the tempora- ry success of my works, having flattered no person and no party, and expressed opinions which are not those nf the general reader. Could 1 have anticipated the degree of attention which has been accorded me, assuredly I would have studied more to deserve it. But I have lived in far countries abroad, or in the agitating world at home, which was not favourable to study or re- flection ; so that almost all I have written has been mere passion, — passion, it is true, of different kind?, but always passion: fir in me (if it be not an Irishism to sav so) my indifference was a kind of passion, the result of experience, and not the philosophy of nature. Writing grows a habit, like a woman's gallant rv : there are women who have had no intrigue, but few who have " The well known line* u.irter MTJton'e picture,— •■ Three t ■■■.«'• In -three dbuurt ■ (» bom," i«. had but one only ; so there are millions of men who have never written a book, but few who have written only one. And thus, having written once, I wrote on; en» couraged no doubt by the success of the moment, vet by- no means anticipating its duranon. and I will venture to say, scarcely even wishing it. But then I did other things besides write, which by no means contributed either lo improve my writings or inv prosperity. I have thus expressed publicly upon the poetry of the day the opinion I have long entertained and ex- pressed of it to all who have asked it, and to some who would rather not have heard it : as I told Moore not very long ago, "we are all wrong excepl Rogers, Cr&bbe, and Campbell." Without being old in years, I am old in days, and do not feel the adequate spirit within me lo attempt a work which should show what 1 think right in poetry, and must content myself with having de- nounced what is wrong. There are, I trust, vouncer spirits rising up in England, who, escaping the conta- gion which has swept away poetry from our literature, will recall it to their country, such as it once was and may still be. In the mean time, the best sign of amendment will repentance, and new and frequent editions of Pope and Dryden. There will be found as comfortable metaphysics, and fen times more poetry in the " Essay on Man." than in the " Excursion." If you search for passion, here is it rn be found stronger than in the epistle from Elnisa to Abelard, or in Palamon and Arcite? Do you wish for invention, imagination, sublimity, character ? seek them in the Rape of ihe Lock, the Fables of Dryden, the Ode of Saint Cecilia's Day, and Absalom and Achitnphel : you will discover in these two poets only, all for which you must ransack innumerable metres, and God only knows how many writers of the day, without finding a tiitle of the same qualities, — with the addition, too, of wit, of which the latter have none. I have not, however, forgotten Thomas Brown the Younger, nor the Fudge Family, nor Whis- 'Jecraft ; but that is not wit — it is humour. I will say nothing of the harmmvy of Pope and Dryden in compa- rison, for there is not a living poet (except Ro^er?, GirTord, Campbell, and Crabbe.) who can write an heroic couplet. The fact is, that ihe exquisite beauty of their versification has withdrawn the public attention fioni their other excellences, as the vulgar eye will rest more upon the splendour of the uniform than the quality of the troops. It is this very harmony, particularly in Pope, which has raised Ihe vulvar and atrocious cant against him: — because his versification is perfect, it is assumed that it is hisonlv perfection ; because his truths ne so clear, it is asserted thai he has no invention ; and because he is always intelligible, it is taken for granted that he has do genius. We are sneeringly told that he is the " Poet of Reason," as if this was a reason for his being DO poet. Taking passage for passage, I will undertake to cite more lines teeming wiih imagina- tion from Pope than from any two living poets, be they who they may. To take an instance at random from a species of composition not very favourable to imagi- nation — Satire: set down the character of Sporus,* " Let Sjwub tremble— .1. Whm > that thing otiilk, Spot V . that mere White cwrtl 01 asa'< milk? Si'tii-e '" ("Cine, n!:n' CM II SpOTM feel i \\ ho brand* a Lmitei-flv upon h wlteel * P. Yet lei me flap Hni. Inifi with raided wings, Thti [Minted child of dirt. tti«i lUnkauid ungi ; Whuae Dim the WiUV flnmki ii p enrol Bee, I* miliar intd, Hal! Iruili, ItaU vtUOMj ipiU l.m.sdl ubru.\U> 310 OBSERVATIONS UPoN AN ARTICLE with all ihe wonderful play of" fancy which is scattered over it, and place by its side an equal number of verses, from any two existing poets, uflhe Mime power and the same variety — where will you Hud them .' I merely mention one instance of many, in reply to the injustice done lo the memory of him who harmonised our poetical language. The attorneys' clerks, and other Self-educated genii, found it easier 10 distort themselves to the new models, than to toil after the symmetry of him who had enchanted their fathers. Tluv were be- sides smitten by being told that the new school were to revive the language of Clue en Elizabeth, the true En- glish: as evury body in the reign of Queen Anne wrote no better than French, by a species of literary treason. Blank verse, which, unless in ihe drama, no out except Milton ever wrote who could rhyme, became the order ol die day, — or else such rhyme as looked still blaukei than the verse without it. I am aware that Johnson has said, afler some hesitation, that he could not "prevail upon himself to wish that Milton had been a rhymer." The opinions of that truly greal man, whom it ie also the present fashion to decry, will ever be received by me with that deference which tune will restore to him tfiii all ; but, wiih all humility, I am not persuaded that the, 1 'aradise Lost would not have been inure nobly conveyed to posterity, not perhaps ifl heroic couplets, although even they cuu'd sustain the subject if well balanced, but in the stanza of Spenser or of Tasso, or in the terza rima of Dante, which the powers of Milton could easily have grafted on our Language. The Seasons o( Thomson would have been better in rhyme, although still inferior to his Casile of Indolence ; and Mr. Sotllhey's Joan of Arc no worse, aldiough it might have taken tip six months instead of weeks in the composition. I recommend also to the lovers of lyrics the perusal of the present laureate'* Odes by the side of Dryden's on Saint Cecilia, but. lei him be sure to read Jirst those of Mr. Southey. To the heaven-born genii and inspired young scrive- ners of the day much of tins will appear paradox : it will appear so '-v.il to the higher order of our critics ; but it was a truism twenty years ago, and it will be a re- acknowledged truth in ten more. In the mean time, I will conclude with two quotations, both intended fur some of my old classical friends who have still enough of Cambridge about them to think themselves honoured by having had John Dryden as a predecessor in their college, and to recollect that their earliest English poel kal pleasures were drawn from the '• little niijhiingale" of Twickenham, The first is from the notes to the Poem of the " Friends."* " It is only within the last twenty or thirty years that those notable discoveries in criticisms have hern made which have taught our recent versifiers to un- dervalue this energetic, melodious, and moral poet. The Consequences of this want of due esteem tor a writer whom the good Sense Of our predecessors had raised I" hii propter station have been NOMBRnrss and dkoka dinu ENiiuoH. This is not ihi- place to enter into the subject, even as far as it affects our poetical nwnocraejone, and there is matter of more importance that requires present reflection." Iiipuni, or politic*, or UdMi or I let. Or aptle, nr mud ui rhymea, orUnanhemlcs, Hi* wit nil n'c-mw, btlWMO thai and loit. Now high, no* l>*w. now master up, now mitt, And be bti If one *ile aiiiliheale. Ampin u> thing I that acting either part, The trifling he id, tit the cotrupled heart, Fop al the toilet, flatterer at the board. Now tripa a lady, and noWllrtlUI lord. blve'a tempter thua the Rabbin) hnvecxprcaa'd, A cheruh'a tire, a reptile all UiO n it, Beauty thai •hocki yon, pa-t» thm none will trait. Wit that can creep, ami pride thnt Ink* ihu dual ." Prr,I. to Sot. ' WrttU-u by Lord Byrnn'g early friend, the Rev. Ft ancle Hodg The second is from the volume of a young person earning to write poetry, und beginning b\ teaching the art. Hear him-* " Itm ye We** dead To thing* ye knew not of— were clueely wed T -. muaty i.iwi Hned out v uh wretched rule And compaaa rile , *o thai ye taogM a »chooj* Otdolu loamoo.'A, inlay, audeAn). nndjii. Till like the certain we,*tfta ol Jacoh'a wit, <<•«■ taUitd. E.t.y w.\* ifre task ; A i\ mod hmiitlicntfituieii wore the mmk Ol |ioea] . Ill-fated Imploua mi a, Thai Uaphenwd the bright lyrlet to hi* fuee. And did not know ii , no, they went about Hold I ne i poor -lc< "fni attnderd otii M.i i k 'a a mi im m fliinay inollM, end in large The ttuiuc ul une UuiLe^u I A little before, the manner of Pope is termed, " A *r,'»f?i,J Nurtured \>y foppery ninl Mirimiiin, ■ ii Apollo 1'iu-ii for tin. htl land." I thought "foppery" was a consequence ofre/inement , lint ni.nporte. The above will suffice to show the nniions entertain- ed by thenjw perfbrmenon the English lyre of him who • In a nunnecrlpl note on Ihi* pjt«iage oflhe pamphlet, dated Nor. 12, rS31, Lord Byron wye,— "Mr. Keaiedledet Rttteeboui « yeai »f tei ihin w.m wriiicii, of a decline produced by hii having nurat a blood- vessel on rending the article oiihis ' Kudj >• in llw (Auartei ly Re»lew i 1 1 1 vi ! re id ihi article before and aince ; and although u It bluer, I do inn think that a man ehould permit blmxil i" he billed by It. Hut a voijiib man little d>eai uai Inevitably encounter in the eourai nt a life ambitioua »> public notice. My Indignation at Mi. Keaia'ade- i,i. thin <'i Pupe hue l ly per led me to do Jiietlce lu hia own genius, which, malgii ill Lfac uutlaaUi Ibvueriai ol libt atyle, we* oo- doiibtedly of great pr Ik Hlafriutm ol ' Hyperion 1 awe m e actually n, | .i.l | Ihc riuna, mid ii na mililnne an JGlchylu*. He U) a lo.t IO e> he h ■ ile 4 th, i» iiid lo liuve beel ided ihui lie Imd i >ghl In and waa re. forniug >n a 'iv i. 'ii'..!, the more elaaaleal mixieUoi'ihe language. t ii vai k ii . .i-i ii gntnuwir " aehoul." I s,, S| . r .ii by the author. 5 An a ueuuica U theec Imea. and ID the wn«e and aentiment of the new -' ll »1, I will pui down «{ia»*agc ur two Iroin Pope a turltttt po citlt, taken at random :— " Fnvy her own imkea ahall feel. And Periecutlon mottrn her broken wheel. There K.i. | ., mi Rebi Hi le hei ehaia, Anil g.i-junx Fuiie* limit fur Li!.>i'd in »ain." '* Ah I Bfbaf avail* hi» gloaty varying dvei, ilis purple creat, and learlet-elrcd I The rimi (fleen bla ehining plumea unfold, Ilia painted aringa, and Lrenst Unit fl.iuiet with gold." " Round bnik^n column*, churning ley twined, ii ., beapeol mu.i aulk'd Ihe lUlety hind ; The lo* obeceite to geplne i ■• retiree, And »u vb«c how lluga fill tin* aaered oulrcja*" ". ll.i.l . baxdi trtumphanl ' born In huppier day* ; in. hi irtal bain ol unlveraal prjlee l \\ liu-e hni rti witli inri'riiM 1 "I .me* grow, Ai i> ( reditu roll down, enlarging a*. Uiey 'tour ; Nation* null-in vim i mighty name* ahull •unud, And world* applaud Hint mint not yel 1* found I Oh may •onte spni k of your eekatlal fire. The i.i-i, the meanest ofynnr Kne Insplrti (I'lnK mi we ik vioa, from tnr piiraaee your flirhu Oluv « w hiii: be i ■ ■ ■'• be » miii, Po . known, T' admire ■uperiordttuoeiaud doubt ihetravn I' " Ainptiti.n there ihe land creating lyre BlruWa, and behold « mdden Thehea a»pirei Ami hatfllir mo , . al!. 1 • So XeaahlB'i ro. k», ihe beautc work of Iroet, line White ill .lir. and cliUrr lhl . r ; lie COaM i P.de IUIMJ felt, "I .Im.uii r mil away, And mi th'Iinpnaaive let the light pi play ; . growing m.i»> aupply, Till i tic bright raounl • |»rop tlia iiieuuwMl ahy f A> til** h- 'd, e icti boary pile appt ir. , I in gather 'd winter of a ihouaoud yenra. v*,ll proportioned dome, mil even llilin-, l> Rome I **Thiia, when we vli Tlieworld'ajuata No tingle parta ■■]■-. All cornea united toth' idmiring lyai i No mouatroui heiicht, or breadth, or length *pi«-ar ; The whole iitume <■ boldaud regular.*' A thousand simitar pnmn^e* crowd upon me, all compoaed by Pope before hi* fb*o-ona.Wtt*»iii«H *eai . and yel Ii Ii conl ended thai h« ia nu pnet, and we me told »o InattcK hue- n* I lire \hr i .-...I.t i iinnri> with theaepouf'-/ui veraee ofthe '* uo poet." Mu.i v.. repeal the queadonoi Johuaon, "I' t*<>pe i* not ap'irt, tf'irre it yoelr-j to tte found /" Keen in dr. c> ip-K-t poetry, the 'mi-ear department nflheart, be will be found mi a fair axamiuatUiu, w turuaaa any hv.ug writer. IN BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. 311 made it most tuneable, and the great improvements ot iheir own " variaztoni.'* The writer of this is a tadpole of the Likes, a young disciple of ihe six or seven new schools, in which he has learnt to write such lines and such sentiments as the above. He says c< easy was the task" of imitating Pope, or it may be of equalling him, I presume. 1 recommend him to try before he is so pusiliveon the subject, and then compare what he will have then written and what he has n»w wrhten with the humblest and earliest compositions of Pope, produced in years still more youthful than those i't .Mr. Keats when he invented his new H Essay on Criticism, entitled lt Sleep and Poetry" (an ominous lille,) from whence the above canons are taken. Po|>e's was written at nineteen, and published at Iweniy-two. Such are the triumphs cf the new schools, and such their scholars. The disciples of Pope were Johnson, jioldsinith, Rogers, Campbell, Crabbe, Gilford, Mat- thias, Hayley, and the author of the Paradise of Coquettes ; to whom may be added Richards, Heber, Wrangham, Bland. Hodgson, Merivale, and others who lave not had their full fame, because " the race is not iJwttys to the swift, nor the battle to the strong," and because there is a fortune in fame as in all other things. Now, ol ail the new schools — I say all, " for, '* like Le- gion, they are many" — has there appeared a single scho- lar who has not made his master ashamed of him ? unless it be Sotheby, who has imitated every body, and occa- sionally surpassed his models. Scott found peculiar favour and imitation among the fair sex : there was Miss Holford, and Miss Mitford, and Miss Francis; but, with the greatest respect be it spoken, none of his imitators did much honour to the original, except Hogg, the Ettrick shepherd, until the appearance of '* The Bridal of Triermain," and " Harold the Dauntless," which in the opinion of some equalled if not surpassed him ; and lo ! after three or four years they turned out to be the Master's own compositions. Have Southey, or Coleridge, or t'other fellow, made a follower of renown ? Wilson never did well till he set up for himself in the 11 City of the Plague." Has Moore, or any other living writer of reputation, had a tolerable imitator, or rather 4isciple? Now, it is remarkable, that almost all the (j I lowers of Pope, whom I have named, have produced •eautiful and standard works ; and it was not the number of his imitators who finally hurt his fame, but the despai of imitation, and the ease of not imitating him sufficiently This, and the same reason which induced the Athenian burgher to vote for the banishment of Arislides, " be- cause he was tired of always hearing him called the /usf," have produced the temporary exile of Pope from the State of Literature. But the term of his ostracism will expire, and the sooner the belter, not for him, but for those who banished htm, and for the coming genera- tion, who *' Will blush to find theii Others were his foee " I will now return to the writer of the article which has drawn forth these remarks, whom 1 honestly take to be John Wilson, a man of great powers and acquire- ments, well known lo the public as the author of the "City of the Piague," * 4 Isle of Palms," and other productions. I take the liberty of naming him, by the same species of*courtesy which lias induced him lo de- signate me as the author of Don Juan. Upon the score of the Lake Poets, lie may peihaps recall tu mind that I merely express an opinion long ayo entertained and specified in a letter to Mr. James Hogg, which he the said James Hogg, somewhat contrary to the law of pens, showed to Mr. John Wilson, in the year 1814, as he himself informed me in his answer, telling me by way of apology, that " he'd be d d if he could help it j" and I am not conscious of any thing like " envy" or " exacerbation" at this moment which induces me to think better or worse of Southey, Wordsworth, and Coleridge as poets than I do now, although I do know one or two things more which have added lo my con- tempt for them as individuals. And, in return for Mr. Wilson's invective, I shall content myself with asking one question ; Did he never compose, recite, or sing any parody or parodies upon the Psalms (of what nature this deponent saith not,) in certain jovial meetings of the youth of Edinburgh ? It is not that I ihink any great harm if he did ; because it seems to me that all depends upon the intention of such a parody. If it be meant to throw ridicule on the sacred original, it is a sin ; if. it be intended to burlesque the profane subject, or to inculcate a moral truth, it is none. If it were, the unbtiievers 7 Creed, the many political parodies of various parts of the Scriptures and liturgy, particularly a celebrated one of the Lords Prayer, and the beautiful moral parable in favour of toleration by Franklin, which has often been taken for a real extract from Ge- nesis, would all be sins of a damning nature. But I wish to know, if Mr. Wilson ever has done this, and if he has, why he should be so very angry with similar portions of Don Juan ? — Did no " parody profane" ap- pear in any of the earlier numbers of Blackwood's Magazine? I will now conclude this long answer to a short article, repenting uf having said so much in my own defence, and so little on the "crying, left-hand fallings off" and national defections" of ihe poetry of the present day. Having said this, I can hardly be expected lo defend Don Juan, or any other " living 1 ' poetry, and shall not make the attempt. And although I do not think that Mr. John Wilson has in this instance treated me with candour or consideration, I trust that the tone I have used in speaking of him personally will prove that J bear him as little malice as I really believe at the bot- tom of his heart he bears towards me ; but the duties of an editor, like those of a tax-gatherer, are paramount and peremptory. I have done. BYRON. LETTER TO THE EDITOR OF 'MY GRANDMOTHER'S REVIEW. ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN THE * LIBERAL.' In ihc First Canto of Do ing passage: Juan appeared the foflow- ■ r ■ reai ■"imp prudish readen »honM grew ikUtlih. 1 've bribed My Qrandmotliar'i Kt view, —the British I " 1 Hilt il m n letter tO the BdltOT, win. | nnk'd ma duly by return of pott— I 'm for a handeomr. article bbtciwdlloi Ytl il my penile Mime he |>livi*e tn nuHt, And break i piomta iftsi having made il her, Denying iht reo And imaiir hU page with gall imte.id of honey, All I can s.iv it— tliM he hud the money." On the appearance of the Poem, the learned editor of the Review in question allowed himself to be dc coyed into the ineffable absurdity of taking the charge as serious, and, in his succeeding number, came forth with an indignant contradiction of it ; to which Lord Byron replied in the following letter : — ''TO THE EDITOR OF THE BRITISH REVIEW. '* MY DEAR ROBERTS, "As a believer in the Church of England — to say nothing of the Slate — I have been an occasional reader, and great admirer of, though not a subscriber to, your Review, which is rat her expensive. Bui I do not know that any part of its contents ever gave me much surprise till the eleventh article of your twenty-seventh number made its appearance. You have there most vigorously refuted a calumnious accusation of bribery and corrup- tion, the credence of which in the public mind might 001 only have damaged your reputation as a barrister and an editor, but, what would have been still worse, have injured the circulation of your journal; which, I regret to hear, is not so extensive as the ' purity (as you well observe) of its,'&c. &c. and the present taste for propriety, would induce us to expect. The charge itself is of a solemn nature, and, although in verse, is couched in terms of such circumstantial gravity, as lo induce a belief Utile short of lhat generally accorded to the thirty-nine articles, to winch you so frankly subscribed on taking your degrees. Il is a charge the most revolting to the heart of man, from its frequent occurrence; to the mind of a lawyer, from its occasional truth; and lo the soul of an editor, from its moral impossibility. You are charged then in the last line of one nctave stanza, and the whole eight lines of the next, viz. 209th and 210th of the first canto of that ' pes- tilent poem,' Don Juan, with receiving, and still more foolishly acknowledging the receipt of, certain monies, to eulogize the unknown author, who by this account must be known to you, if to nobody else. An impeach- ment of this nature, so seriously made, there is but one way of refuting; and it is my firm persuasion, that whe- ther you did or did not (and / believe that you did not) receive the said monies, of which I wish that he had specified the sum, you are quite right in denying all knowledge of the transaction. If charges of this ne- farious description are to go forth, sanctioned by all the solemnity of circumstance, and guaranteed by the vera- city of verse (as Counsellor Phillips would say) what is lo become of readers hitherto implicitly confident in the not less veracious prose of our critical journals ? what is to become of the reviews ? And if the reviews fail, what is to become of the editors? It is common cause, and you have done welt to sound the alarm. 1 myself, in my humble sphere, will be one of your echoes. In the words of ihe tragedian Liston, ' I love a row,' and you seem justly determined lo make one. " It is barely possible, certainly improbable, thai the writer might have been injesi; but this only aggravate* his crime. A joke, the proverb says, * breaks no Donee ;' but it may break a bookseller, or u may be the cause of hones being broken. The jest is but a bad one at the best for the author, and might have been n still worse one for you, if vour copious contradiction did not certify to all whom it may concern your own indignant inno- cence, and the immaculate purilv of the British Review. I do not doubt your word, my dear Roberta, yet I can- not help wishing that in a ca*e of such vital importance, it had assumed ihe more substantial shape of an affida- vit sworn before the Lord Mayor. 11 I am sure, my dear Roberts, that you will lake tli.se observations of mine in good part ; they are writren in a spirit of friendship not less pure than your own edito- rial integrity. I have always admired you ; and not knowing any shape which friendship and admiration can assume more agreeable and useful than that of good advice, I shall continue my lucubrations, mixed wilh here and there a monitory hint as to what I conceive to be the line you should pursue, in case you should ever again be assailed wilh bribes, or accused of taking them. By the way, you don't say much ab. ut the poem, except that it is ' flagitious. ' This is a pi'y — you should have cut it up ; because, to say the truth, in not doing so, you somewhat assist any notions which the malignant might entertain on the score of ihe ano- nymous asseveration which has made you so angry. " You say, no bookseller ' was willing to lake upon himself the publication, though most of them disgrace themselves by selling it.' Now, my dear friend, though we all know lhat those fellows will do any thing for money, meihinks the disgrace is more wilh the pur- chasers ; and some such, doubtless, (here are, for there can be no very extensive selling (as you will perceive by that of the British Review) without buying. You then add, ' what can the critic say V I am sure I do n'l know ; at present he says very little, and that not much lo the purpose. Then comes, ' for praise, as far as re- gards the poetry, many passages might be exhibited * for condemnation, as far as regards the morality, all Now, my dear good Roberts. I feel for you and for your reputation ; my heart bleeds for both ; and I do as* you, whether or not such language does not come posi- tively under the description of 'the puff* collusive,' for which see Sheridan's farce of ' The Critic' (by the way, a little more facetious than your own farce under the same title) towards the close of scene second, act the first. " The poem is, it seems, sold as the work of Lord Byron ; but you feel yourself ' at liberty to suppose it not Lord B.'s composition.' Why did you ever sup- pose that it was? I approve of your indignation — I applaud it — I feel as angry as you can; but perhaps your virtuous wrath carries you a little loo far, when you sav lhat ' no misdemeanour, not even thai of send- ing into the world obscene and blasphemous poetry, the product of studious lewdness and laboured impiety, ap- LETTER TO THE EDITOR OF -MY GRANDMOTHER'S REVIEW. 313 Dears to you in so deiestable a light as the acceptance of a present by the editor of a review, as the condition of praising an author. 1 The devil it does n't ! Think a little. This is being critical overmuch. In point of Gentile benevolence or Christian charity, it were surely less criminal to praise for a bribe, than to abuse a fel- low-creature for nothing; and as to the assertion of the comparative innocence of blasphemy and obscenity, con- fronted with an editor's 'acceptance of a present,' I shall merely observe, that as an editor you say very well, but as a Christian barrister, I would not recommend you to transplant this sentence into a brief. " And yet you say, ' the miserable man (for miserable he is, as having a soul of which he cannot get rid') — But here I must pause again, and inquire what is the meaning of this parenthesis. We have heard of people of ' Utile soul,' or of ' no soul at all,' but never till now of i the misery of having a soul of which we cannot get rid ;' a misery under which you are possibly no creal sufferer, having got rid apparently of some of the intel- lectual parL of your own when you penned this pretty piece of eloquence. w Bui to continue. You call upon Lord Byron, al- ways supposing him not the author, to disclaim ' with all gentlemanly haste,' &c. &c. 1 am told that Lord B. is in a foreign country, some thousand miles off it may be; so that it will be difficult for him to hurry to your wishes. In the mean lime, perhajts you yourself have set an example of more haste than gentility ; but * the more haste the worse speed.' " Let us now look at the charge itself, my dear Ro- berts, which appears to me to be in some degree not quite explicitly worded : " I bribed my Orandmother't Review, the British." " I recollect hearing, soon after the publication, this subject discussed at the tea-table of Mr. S. the poet, who expressed himself, I remember, a good deal surprised that you had never reviewed his epic poem, nor any of his six tragedies, of which, in one instance, the bad taste of the pit, and in all the rest, the barbarous repugnance of the principal actors, prevented the performance. Mrs. and ihe Misses S. being in a corner of the room perusing the proof sheets of some now poems on Italy, (I wish, by the by, Airs. S. would make the tea a little Blronger,) the male part of the conversazione were at liberty to make a few observations on the poein and passage in question, and there was a difference of opi- nion. Some thought the allusion was to the ' British Critic;' others, that by the expression, ' my Grandmo- ther's Review,' it was intimated that ' my grandmother' was not the reader of the review, but actually the writer ; thereby insinuating, my dear Roberts, that you were an old woman ; because, as people often say, ' Jeffrey's Review,' ' Gilford's Review,' in lieu of Edin- burgh and Quarterly ; so ' my Grandmother's Review' and Roberts's might be also synonymous. Now, what- ever colour his insinuation might derive from the cir- cumstance of your wearing a gown, as well as from your time of life, your general style, and various pas- sages of your writings, — I will take upon myself to exculpate you from all suspicion of the kind, and assert, without caHing Mrs. Roberts in testimony, that if ever you should be chosen Pope, you will pass through all the previous ceremonies with as much credit as any pontiff since the parturition of Joan. It is very unfair to judge of sex from writings, particularly from those of the British Review. We are all liable to be deceived ; and it is an indisputable fact, that many of the best articles in your journal, which were attributed to a veteran fe- male, were actually written by you yourself; and yet to this day there are people who could never find out the difference. Bullet us return to the more immediate pueetion. " I agree with you that it is impoisibla Lord Byron 40 should be the author, not only because as a British peer, and a British poet, it would be impracticable for him to have recourse to such facetious fiction, but for some other reasons which you have omitted to state. In the first place, his lordship has no grandmother. Now the author, — and we may believe him in this — doth expressly state that the * British' is his ' Grandmother's Review ;' and if, as I think I have distinctly proved, this was not a mere figurative allusion to your supposed intellectual age and sex, my dear friend, it follows, whether you be she or no, that there is such an elderly lady still extant. And I can the more readily credit this, having a sexa- genary aunt of my own, who perused you constantly, till unfortunately falling asleep over the leading article of your la>t number, her spectac.es fell off and were broken against the fender, after a faithful service of fifteen years, and she has never been able to fit her eyes since ; so that I have been forced to read you aloud lo her; and this is in fact the way in which I became acquainted with the subject of my present letter, and thus deter- mined to become your public correspondent. '• In the next place, Lord B.'s destiny seems in some sort like that of Hercules of old, who became the author of all unappropriated prodigies. Lord B. has been sup- posed the author of the ' Vampire,' of a ' Pilgrimage to Jerusalem,' ' To the Dead Sea,' of ' Death upon the Pale Horse,* of odes to ' Lavalette,' to ' Saint Helena,' to the ' Land of the Gaul,' and to a sucking child. Now he turned out to have written none of these things. Be- sides, you say, he knows in what a spirit of, &c. you criticise — Are you sure he knows all this? thai he has read you like my poor dear aunt? They tell me he is a queer sort of a man ; and I would not be too sure, if I were you, either of what he has read or what he has written. I thought his style had been the serious and terrible. As to his sending you money, this is the first time that ever I heard of his paying his reviewers in thai coin; I thought it was rather in their own, to judge from some of his earlier productions. Besides, though he may not be profuse in his expenditure, 1 should con- jecture thai his reviewer's bill is not so long as his tailor's. ' Shall I give you what I think a prudent opinion. 1 do n't mean lo insinuate, God forbid ! but if, by any ac- cident, there should have been such a correspondence between you and the unknown author, whoever he may be, send him back his money : I dare say he will be very glad to have it again : it can't be much, considering the i'alue of the article and the circulation of the journal ; and you are too modest lo rale your praise beyond its real worth. — Don't be angry, — I know you won't, — at this appraisement of your powers of eulogy ; for on the other hand, my dear friend, depend upon it your abuse is worth, not its own weight — that's a feather, — but your weight in gold. So do n't spare it: if he has bar- gained for that, give it handsomely, and depend upop your doing him a friendly office. ' But I only speak in case of possibility ; for, as I said before, I cannot believe in the first instance, that you would receive a bribe to praise any person whatever ; and still less can I believe that your praise could ever produce such an offer. You are a good creature, my dear Roberts, and a clever fellow ; else I could almost suspect that you had fallen into the very trap set for you verse by this anonymous wag, who will certainly be but too happy to see you saving him the trouble of mak- ing vou ridiculous. The fact is, that the solemnity of your eleventh article does make you look a little more absurd than vou ever yet looked, in all probability, and at the same time does no good ; for if any body believed before in the octave stanzas, ihey will believe still, and you will find it not less difficult to prove your negative, than the learned Partridge found it to demonstrate hi* not being dead, to the satisfaction of the readers of almanacs. 314 LETTER TO THE EDITOR OF 'MY GRANDMOTHER'S REVIEW.* 11 What the motives of this writer may have been for (as you magnificently translate his quizzing you) ' slating, with the particularity which belongs to tact, the forgery of a groundless fiction,' (do pray, my dear R. talk a little less l in King Cambyses' vein,') I cannot pretend to say ; perhaps to laugh at you, but that is no reason for your benevolently making all the world laugh also. I approve of your being angry ; I tell you I am angry too ; but you should not have shown it so outrageously. Your solemn ' if somebody personating the Editor of the,' &c. &c. * has received from Lord B. or from any Other person, 1 reminds me of Charley Incledon's usual exordium when people came into the tavern to hear him sing without paying their share of the reckoning — ' If a maun, or ony maun, or ony other maun,* &c. &c. ; you have both the same redundant eloquence. But why Bhould you think any body would personate you ? No- body would dream of such a prank who ever read your compositions, and perhaps not many who have heard your conversation. But 1 have been inoculated with a little of your prolixity. The fact is, my dear Roberts, that somebody has tried to make a fool of you, and what he did not succeed in doing, you have done for him and for yourself. 11 With regard to the poem itself, or the author, whom I cannot find out, (can you ?) I have nothing to say ; my business is with you. I am sure that you will, upon second thoughts, be really obliged to me for the intention of this letter, however far short my expressions may have fallen of the sincere good will, admiration, and thorough esteem, with which I am ever, my dear Roberts, 11 Most truly yours, "WORTLEY CLUTTERBUCK. " Sept. — , 1819. 11 Little PuUington. " P. S. Mv letter is too long to revise, and the post is going. I forget whether or not I asked you the meaning of your last words, ' the forgery of a groundless fiction.' Now, as all forgery is fiction, and all fiction a kind of forgery, is not this tautological ? The sentence would have ended more strongly with ' forgery ;' enly it hath an awful Bank of England sound, and would havn ended like an indictment, besides sparing you several words, and conferring some meaning upon the remain- der. But this is mere verbal criticism. Good bye— once more yours truly, " W. C. "P. S. 2d.— Is it true that the Saints make up the looses of the review ? — It is very handsome in them to be at so great an expense — Pray pardon my taking up so much of your time from the bar, and from your clients, who I hear are about the same number ^ith the readers of your journal. T\uice more yours, LORD BACON'S APOPHTHEGMS. BACON'S APOPHTHEGMS. 91. Michael Angelo, the fa- mous painter, painting in the pope's chapel the por- traiture of hell and damtwd Boulsi made one of the damned souls so like a car- dinal (hat was his enemy, as every body at first sight knew it-, whereupon the cardinal complained to Pope Clement, humbly praying it mighi bedefarr.l. The pope ;;aidto him, Why, you know very well I have power to deliver a soul out of purga- tory, but not out of hell. 155. Alexander, afier tho bat- Is* of Granicum, had very jreat offers made him by "Darius. Consulting with Sis captains concerning them,Parmentosaid, Sure, I would accept of these of- fers, if I were as Alexander. Alexander answered, So would I, if I were as Par- men io. OBSERVATIONS. This was not the por- trait of a cardinal, but of the pope's master of the ceremonies. It was after the battle of Issus, and during the siege of Tyre, and not immedi- ately after the passage of the Granicus, (hat this is said to have occurred. 153. Antignnus, when it was told him that the enemy hod such volleys of arrows, that they did hide the sun, said, That falls out well, for it is hot weather, and so we shall fight in the shade. 162. There was a philosopher that disputed with Adrian the Emperor, and did it but weakly. One of his friends that stood by, after- wards said unto him, Me- tliiuks you were not like yourself last day, in argu- ment with the Emperor : I could have answered better myself. Why, said the phi- losopher, would yon have me contend with him that commands thirty legions ? 164. There was one that found a great mass of money digged under ground in his grandfather's house, and being somewhat doubtful of ihe case, signified it to the This was not said by Antigonus, but by a Spar- tan, previously to the battle of Thermopylae. This happened under Augustus Ca?sar, and nol during the reign of Adrian. This happened to the fa- ther of Herodes Atticus, and the answer was made* by the emperor Aieruo, who deserved thut his name should have been stated by LORD BACON'S APOPHTHEGMS. 315 the " greatest — wisest — meanest of mankind." emperor thai he had found such treasure. The empe- ror made a rescript thus: Use it. He writ back again, that the sum was greatei lit. 1.11 his state or condition rould use. The emperor writ a new rescript, thus: Ai-llSC 't. 178. One of the seven was This was said by Ana- wont to say, that laws were charsis the Scythian, and like cobwebs: where the not by a Greek. email Hies were caught, and the great brake through. 209. An orator of Athens said This was not said by toDcmoslhenes,The Athe- Demosthenes, but to De- mans will kill you if they mosthenes by Phocion. wax mad. Demosthenes replied. And they will kill you, if they be in good sense. 2.M. There was a philosopher about Tiberius thai, looking into the nature of Cains, said of him, Thai he was oiire mingled with blood. 97. There was a king of Hun- gary took a bishop in bat- tle, and kept him prisoner ; whereupon the pope writ a monitory to him, for that he had broken the p ivilege of holy church, and taken his son : the king sent an embassage to him, and sent Withal the umour wherein the bishop was laken, and this only in writing — Vide num. hac sit vestisjilu tux ? Know now whether this be thy son's coat ? This was not said of Caius (Caligula, I pre- sume, is intended byCaius,) but of Tiberius himself. This reply was not made by a King of Hungary, but sent by Richard the first, Cffiur de Lion, of England to the Pope, with the breast- plate of the bishop of Beau- vais. 267 Demetrius, king of M 1- This did not happen to cedon,hadapetitionofivred Demetrius, but to Philip him divers times by an old King of Alaecdon. woman, and answered he had no leisure ; whereupon the woman aaid aloud, Why then give over tube king. VOLTAIRE. Having stared dial Bacon was frequently incorrect in his citations from history, I have thought it necessary in what regards so great a name (however trifling,) to support the assertion by such facts as more immediately occur to me. They are hut trifles, and yet for such trifles a schoolboy would be whipped (if still in the fourth form) ; and Voltaire for half a dozen similar er- rors has been treated as a superficial writer, notwith- standing the testimony of the .earned Warton : — " Vol- taire, a writer oCviuch deeper research than is imagined, and the first who has displayed the literature and cus- toms of the dark ages' with any degree of penetration and comprehension." For another distinguished testimony to Voltaire's merits in literary research, see also Lord Holland's excellent Account of the Life and Writings of Lope de Vega, vol. i. p. 215. edition of 1817. Voltaire has even been termed " a shallow fellow," by some of the same school who called Dryden's Ode " a drunken song \ n — a school (as it is called, I presume, from their education being still incomplete) the whole of whose filthy trash of Epics, Excursions, &c. &c. $cc. is not worth the two words in Zaire, " Vous pleurez? or a single speech rtf Tancred: — a school, the apostate lives of whose renegadues, with their tea-Hrinking neu- trality of morals, and their convenient treachery in politics — in the record of their accumulated pretences to virtue can produce no actions (were all their good deeds drawn tip in arrav) to equal or approach the sole defence of the family of Calas, by ihat great and une- qualled genius — the universal Voliai-e. I have ventured to remark on these little inaccuracies of *' the greatest genius that England or perhaps any other country ever produced,"* merely to show our na- tional injustice in condemning generally, the greatest genius of France for such inadveriencies as these, of which the highest of England has been no less guilty. Query, was Bacon a greater intellect than Newton ? * Popei iii Sfwuce'a Anecdotes, [>. 156. Mulnue's edition. TRANSLATION OP TWO EPISTLES FROM THE ARMENIAN VERSION THE EPISTLE OF THE CORINTHIANS TO ST. PAUL THE APOSTLE.* 1 Stephen,! and the elders with him, Dabnus, Eu- bulus, Theophilus, ami Xmon, to Paul, our Lather and evangelist, and faithful master in Jesus Christ, health.} 2 Two men have coma to Corinth, Simon, by name, and Cleobus.j; who veh.-m<-nth disturb the faith of some with deceitful and corrupt words ; 3 Of which words thou shou!dst inform thyself: 4 For netLher have we heard such words from thee, nor from the other apostles: 5 But we know only that what we have heard from thee and from them, that we have kept firmly. 6 But in this chiefiy has our Lord had compassion, that, whilst thou art yet with us in the flesh, we are again about to hear from thee. 7 Therefire do thou write to us, or come thyself anionj us quickly. 8 We believe in the Lord, that, as U was revealed to Theonas, he hath delivered thee from the hands of the unrighteous. || 9 But these are the sinful words of these impure men, Jbr thus do thev say and teach: 10 That it behooves not to admit the PropheLs.1T 11 Neither do they affirm the omnipotence uf God: 12 Neither do thev affirm the resurrection of the hVsh : 13 Neither do they affirm that man was altogether seated by God : 14 Neither do they affirm that Jesus Christ was born o the flesh from the Virgin Man - : 15 Neither do they affirm that the world was the work rt" God, but of some one of the angels. 16 Therefore do thou make haste** tocome amon<* us. 17 That this city of the Corinthians may remain with- out scandal. 18 And that the folly of ihese men maybe made mani- fest by an open refutation. Fare thee well. ft The deacons Thereptus and TichusJJ recew conveyed this Epistle to the city of the Philipprans.SS When Paul received the Epistle, although he was tht n in chains on account of Stratonice,||j| the wife of Apofo- lainislli; yet, as it were forgetting his bonds, he mourned over these words, an 1 said, weeping, "It were hotter for me to be dead, and with the Lord. F >r while 1 am in this b • 'y, and hear the wretched words of such false doctrine, behold, grief arises upon grief] and my trouble adds a weight bo my chains; when I behold this calamity, and progress of the machinations of Satan, who searcheth to do wrong.* And thus with deep affliction Paul comjiosed hi3 reply to the Epistle.* • Pome M.1S. have Ihc title thus : Eptetle of Stephen the Elder to ,",.■■ ! . t In the MSS. the marginal vwtM pubtfahed by (.tie Wbhrtotti an- wanting. ,' In K>afU MSS. we find, Tf.r etrfrr, ,Vumenr.», Eululue, Theo- fhitu*. atri jfoKMOn, tu P.,ul their brother, health • 6 Other! r*kd, Tktrt came certi.in men, . . .and Clobeue, who vehfite.n .1 ■ ■ .| Some Mss. ta*t, Wt betttvt in rfa Lord, that hi* prmnet trie mod* tnani/tst ; t:n& by ti.is fotth the Lord deiiceied us from t/if hands of the ufi igh '&•*. TI Othera rn/U To read the Prophets. '• s.n-t,. MSS. hnv c Tne-tfore, brother, do thou make haett. tt Oilier* read. Fare thxt vlt in the ts>rd. :* Sine Mss. have. The Otacoiu Thtrtaua amA 7VcJIm». H The Whiawns hnve, To .W city of Phmncia.; Lul In nil tli. *-S;S. «< Suit, 7'. the city of the Pttii'ipuiatut. nil n.hero read, I iv Th t VVhlMoiii hava, o Apoll phaxui .- but la all um MSS. en end, .iyojoirmi. EPISTLE OF PAUL TO THE CORINTHIANS* 1 Paul, in bonds for Jesus Christ, disturbed bv so many errors,} to his Corinthian brethren, health. 2 I nothing marvel that the preachers of evil have made this progress. 3 For because the Lord Jesus is about to fulfil his CODCuilg verily on this account do certain men pervert and despise his words. 4 But I, verily, from the beginning, have taught vnu that only which I myself received from the forroei Mrs, who always remained with the Lord Jesus Christ 5 And I now say unto you, that the Lord Jesus Christ was born of the Virgin Mary, who was of the seed of David, 6 According to the annunciation of the Holy Ghost, sent to her by our Father frcin heaven; 7 That Jesus might be introduced into the world,§ and deliver our Hesh by his flesh, and that he might raise us up from the dead ; 8 As in this also he himself became the example : 9 That it might be made manifest that man was created by the Father, 10 He has not remained in perdition unsought ;]| 11 But lie is sought for, that he might be revived by adoption. IS For God, who is the Lord of all, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who made heaven and earth, synt, firstly, the Prophets to the Jews : 13 That he would absolve them from their sins, and bring them to his judgment 14 Because he wished to save, firstly, the house r a long time preach the wor- ship of God, and the nativity of Christ. 16" But he who was (he prra hen he wished to make himself Gud, laid his hand upon them, 17 And bound all men in sin,1T 18 Because the judgment of die world was approach- ing. 19 But Almighty God, when he willed to justify, was unwilling to abandon his creature ; 20 But when he saw his affliction, he had compassion upon him: Fn Hie text of this E(ii«tle there are some other variations in tl« ' tht HflM is Hi- BMW, t Bonn MSS. Imv,. PmU'i Epistle fr Jrn prieon, for the int'.ruc- Carinthinnt. id, lif'trhfi bv MrfAUf roTtptinrfiftnt. MSS. ban. That Se-fu might comfort the dv, shall be denied the resurrection: because such are found to refuse the resurrection. 37 But you also, Corinthians ! have known, from the seels <.f wheat, and from other seeds, 38 That one grain falls][ dry into the earth, and within it first dies, 39 And afterward rises again, by the will of the Lord, endued with the same body: 40 Neither indeed does it arise with the same simple boHv, but manifold, and filled with blessing. 41 But we produce die example not only from seeds, but from the honourable bodies of men.lf 42 Ye also have known Jonas, the son of Amittai.** ■ Older* rud, Btlirrine with t pure heart. t Some MS9. In*c, Of Ood the Father of all thing*. I <)ih»Tt mad, The* <-nrs< it i»ilien read. Bui tee hioe not only produced from seed*, but /dm the hunauraAU body of "ion. " Oiher* read, The sun of Eutattihue. 43 Because he delayed to preach to the Ninevites ho was swallowed up in the belly of a ash for three days and three nights : 44 And afier three days God heard his supp'ication, and brought him out from the deep abyss ; 45 Neither was any pan of his body corrupted ; neither was his eyebrow bent down.* 46 And how much more for you, oh men of little faith! 47 If you believe in our Lord Jesus Christ, will he raise you up, even as he himself hath arisen. 48 If the bones of Elisha the prophet, falling upon the dead, revived the dead, 49 By how much more shall ye, who are supported by he flesh and the blood and the Spirit oF Christ, arise- again on diat day with a perfect body ? 50 Elias the prophet, embracing the widow's son, raised him from the dead: 51 By how much more shall Jesus Christ revive you. on that day, with a perfect body, even as he himself hath arisen ? 52 But if ve receive other things vainly,! 53 Henceforth no one shall cause me to travail ; fori bear on my body these fetters^ 54 To obtain Christ ; and I suffer with patience these afflictions to become worthy of the resurrection of the dead. 55 And do each of you, having received the law from die hands of the blessed Prophets and ihe holy gospel, § firmly main'ain it ; 56 To the end that you may be rewarded in the resur- rection of the dead, and the possession of the life eternal. 57 But if any of ye, not believing, shall trespass, he hall be judged with the misdoers, and punished with those who have false belief. 58 Because such are the generations of vipers, and the children of dragons and basilisks. 59 Drive far from among ye, and fly from such, with the aid of our Lord Jesus Christ. 60 And the peace and grace of the beloved Son be upon vou.|| Amen. Done into English by me, January- February \ 1817, at the Convent of San fazaro, vith the axd and txposititm of the Armenian text hy the FaUier Paschal jiucher, Ar- menian Friar, Bvror. Venice, April 10, 1817. / had also the Latin text, hut it is in many places very corrupt, and with great omissions. • Othen add, Nor did a hidr of hi* b-.dy fall therefrom. t Horn* MSS. have, Ve thai' not receive other things in vain. I Olbefl finiahrd litre thn». Henceforth no one can trouble me fa* ■it . ',ir / beat in ""i body the nujfrringt of Chntt. The grac* of ur fsii-d Jttu* Ciritt he with i/our spirit, my brethren. Amen, (, Some MSS have, 0/ 'he holy e\a"gelitt. U ' 'in. ii ,uM, Our l*ird be with ye all. Amen. THE WILL OF LORD BYRON. ^EXTRACTED FROM THE REGISTRY OF THE PREROGATIVE COURT OF CANTERDl RT.) This is the last will and testament of me,Geor<." ' <""- don, Lord Byron, Baron Byron, of Rochdale, in the county of Lancaster, as follows: — I give and devi i that my manor or lordship of Rochdale, in the said county of Lancaster, with all its rights, royalties, members, and appurtenances, and all my lands, tenements, heredita- ment*) atid premises situate, lying, and being within the parish, manor, or lordship of Rochdale aforesaid, and all other my estates, lands, hereditaments, and premises whatsoever and wheresoever, unto niv friends John * \im Hobhouse, late of Trinity Colli . I ambridge, Enquire, and John Hanson, of Chanci ry-lane, London, Esquire, to the use and behoof of them, their heirs and assigns, upon trust that they ihe said John Cain Hobhouse and John Hanson, and the survivor of them, and the heirs and assigns of such survivor, do :tud snail, as s is r >\i\ eni- enily may be after my decease, sell and disposenf all my said manor and estates for the most money that can or may be had or gotten for the same, either by private con- tract or public sale by auction, ami either together or in hits, as my said trustees shall think proper; and for the facilitating such sale and sales, I do direct thai the receipi and receipts of my said trustees, and the survivor of them, and the heirs and assigns of auch survivor, shall be a good and sufficient discharge, and good and sufficient dis- charges to the purchaser or purchasers of my said estates, or any part or parts thereof, (or so much money as in such receipt or rcceiptsshall be expressed or acknowledged to be received ; and that such purchaser or purchasers, his, her, or their heirs am! assigns, shall not afterward be in any manner answerable or accountable for such purchase- monevs, or be obliged to sVe to the application thereof; and I do will ami direct thai my said trustees shall stand possessed of the moneys to arise by the sale of my said estates upon such trusts and fur si irh intents and purposes as I have hereinafter directed of and concerning the same : Ami whereas I have by certain deeds of convey- ance made on niv marriage with my present wife conveyed all my manor and estate of New stead, in the parishes of Nowstead and LinleVfin the county of Nottingham, unto trustees, upon trust to sell the same, and apply the sum of sixty thousand pounds, part of the money to arise by Buch Bale, upon the trusts n{' my marriage settlement : Now I do hereby give and bequeath all the remainder of the purchaso-i ley to arise by sale of my Raid estate at Newstead, and all the whole of ihe said sixty thousand pounds, or such part thereof as shall not be ome vested and payable under the trusts of my said marriage settle- ment, umo the said John Cam Hobhouse and John Han- son, their executors, administrators, and assigns, upon such trusts and for such ends, intents, and purposes as In reinafter directed of and concerning tin n Btdue of my personal estate. I give and bi queath unto the said John Cam Hobhouse and John Hanson the sum of one thou- sand pounds each. I give and bequeath all the rest, resi- due, and remainder of my personal estate whatsoever and wheresoever unto the said John Cam Hobhouse and John Hanson, their executors, administrators, and assigns, upon trust that they, my said truster's, and ihe survivor of them, and the executors and administrators of such Burvivoi , do and shall stand possessed of all such rest and residue of my said personal estate and the money to arise by sale of my real estates hereinbefore devised to them for sale and such of the moneys to arise by sale of my said estate at Newstead as I have power to dispose of, after payment of my debts and legacies hereby given, upon the trusts and lor the ends, intents, and purposes her< -inafier oh n- Uonedand directed of and concerning the same, that is to say, upon trust, that they, my said trustees, and the sur- vivor of ihem, ami the executors and administrators of such survivor, do and shall lay out and invest the same m the public stocks or funds, or upon government or real security at interest, with power from time to time to change, vary, and transpose such securities, and from time to time during the life of my sister Augusta Mary Leijjh, the wift of George Leigh, Esquire, nay, receive, apply, and dispone of the interest, dividends, and annual produce thereof when and as the same shall bt-come due and payable into the proper hands of the said Augusta Mary Leigh, to and fur her sole and separate use and benefit, free from the Control, debts, or engagements of her present or any future husband, or unto such person or persons as she my said sister shall from time to time, by any writing under bei hand, notwithstanding her present or any future coverture, and whether coverl or sole, direct or appoint : and from and immediately after the decease of my said sister, then upon trust that they, my Baid trustees, and the survivor of them, Ins executors or administrators, do and shall assign and transfer all my said personal estate and other the trust property hereinbefore mentioned, or ih« stocks, funds, or securities wherein or upon which the same shall or may be placed out or invested unto and among all and every the child and children of my said sister, if more than one, in such parts, shares, and propor- tions, and to become a vested interest, and to be paid and transferred at such time and times, and in such manner, and with, under, and subject to such provisions, coi id it ion s, and restrictions, as my said sister at any time during her life, whether coverl or sole, by any deed or deeds, instru- ment or instruments, in writing, with or without power of revocation, to be sealed and delivered in the presence of two or more credible witnesses, or by her last will and testament in writing, or any writing of appointment in the nature of a will, shall direct or appoint, and in default of any such appointment, or in case of the death of my said sister in my lifetime, then Upon trust that they, my said trustees, and the sur\ ivur of ihi-m, his executors, adminis- trators, and assigns, do an. I shall assign and transfer all the trust, property, and funds unto and among the children of my said sister, if more than one, equally to he diviJi d between ihem, share ami shoe alike, and if only one such child, then to such only child the share and shares of sin h of (hem as shall be a son or sons, to he paid and trans- ferred unto him and them when and as he or they shall respectively attain his or their age or ages of twenty-one years ; and the share and shares of such of them as shall be a daughter or daughters, to be paid and transferred unto her or Ihem when and as she or they shall respectively attain his or their age or ages of twenty-one years, or be married, which shall first happen, and in case any of such children shall happen to die, being a son <,r sons, before he or they shall attain the age of twenty-one years, or being a daughter or daughters, before she or they shall attain the said a^e of iwtmty-one, or be married ; then it is my LORD BYRON'S WILL. 319 will and I do direct that the share and shares of such of the said children as shall so die shall go to the survivor or Blffvivors of such children, with the benefit of further accruer in case of the death of any such surviving chil- dren bel"»re thru* shares shall become vested. And I do direct that my said trustees shall pay and apply the inte- rest and dividends of each of the said children's shares in the said trust funds for his, her, or their maintenance and education during their minorities, notwithstanding their shares may not become vested interests, but that such interest and dividends as shall not have been so applied shall accumulate, and follow, and go over with the princi- pal. And I do nominate, constitute, and appoint the said John Cam Hobhousc and John Hanson executors of this my will. And I do will and direct that my said trustees shall not be answerable the one of them for the other of them, or for the acts, deeds, receipts, or defaults of the other of them, but each n<* them for his own acts, deeds, receipts, and wilful default-* only, and that they my said trustees shall be entitled to retain and deduct out of the moneys which shall come to their hands under the trusts aforesaid all such costs, charges, damages, and expenses wluch they or any of them shall bear, pay, sustain, or be put unto, in the execution and performance of the trusts herein reposed in them. I make the above provision for my sister and her children, in consequence of mv dear wife Lady Byron and any children I may have, being otherwise amply provided for ; and, lastly, I do revoke all former wills by me at any time heretofore made, and do declare this only to be my last will and testament. In witness whereof, I have to this my last will, contained in three sheets of paper, set my hand to the first two sheets thereof and to this third and last sheet my hand and seal this 20th day of July, in the year of our Lord 1815. BYRON, (L. S.) Signed, sealed, published, and declared by the said Lord Byron, the testator, as and for his last will and testament, m the presence of us, who, at his request, in his presence, and in the presence of each other, have hereto subscribed our names as witnesses. Thomas Jones Mawse, Edmund Griffin, Frederick Jervis, Clerks to Mr. Hanson, Chancery-lane. CODICIL.— This is a Codicil to the last will and testament of me, the Right Honourable George Gordon, Lord Byron. I give and bequeath unto Allegra Biron, an infant of about twenty months old, by me brought up, and now residing at Venice, the sum of five thousand pounds, which I direct the executors of mv said will to pay to her on her attaining the age of twenty-one years, or on the day of her marriage, on condition that she does not marry with a native of Great Britain, which shall first happen. And I direct my said executors, as soon as conveniently may be afier my decease, to invest the said sum of five thousand pounds upon government or real security, and to pay and apply the annual income thereof in or towards the maintenance and education of the said Allegra Biron, until she attains her said age of twenty* ie years, or shall be married as aforesaid ; but in case she shall die before attaining the said age and without having been married, then I direct the said sum of five thousand pounds to become part of the residue of my personal estate, and in all other respects I do confirm my aid will, and declare this to be a codicil thereto. In wit- ness whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and seal, at Venice, this 17 ill day of November, in the year of our Lord 1818. BYRON, (L. S.) Signed, sealed, published, and declared by the said Lord Byron, as and for a codicil to his will, in the presence of us, who, in liis presence, at his request, and in the presence of each other, have subscribed our names as witnesses. Newton Hanson, William Fletcher. Proved at London, (with a codicil,) 6th of July, 1824- before the Worshipful Stephen Lushington, Doctor of Laws, and surrogate, by the oaths of John Cam Hobhouse and John Hanson, Esquires, the executors to whom administration was granted, having been first sworn duly to administer. Nathaniel Griskins, George Jenner, Charles Dvnelev, Deputy Registrars. \ 4 ■■ _'iiV ' -■-;'.- -^U- I CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE, A ROMAUNT. I/univeri e«l tine t ipeVe dp livre, dont nn n'a lu q«c 1j premiere pasje quaod on n'a »u q»t ion pays. J «n at reuitlet&ua *s«ez grand nombre, que j'si Irouvft fe^Hlcmem mauvaiaes. Cei ex amen ne m'a poinl bib in- fruetueux. Je haTssnianm palrie. Toiilea lea impertinences des peuplca diver*, purnii leaqueU J'ai tbcu, m'onl rfcconeiU& avec elle. Quaud je n'aurma lire d autre bkufcfice do ines voyagea que celui-IA, Je n'en regtetieraia ui lea fraia. ni lea faliguts. LE COSMOPOLITE. PREFACE. The following poem was written, fi>r the most part, amid the scenes which it attempts to describe. It was begun in Albania; and the parts relative to Spain and Portugal were composed from the author's observations in those countries. Thus much it may be necessary to state for the correctness of the descriptions. The scenes attempted to be sketched are in Spain, Portugal, Epirus Acarnania, and Greece. There for the present the poem stops: its reception will determine whether the author may venture to conduct his readers to the capital of the East, through Ionia and Phrygia : these two cantos are merely experimental. A fictitious character is introduced for the sake of giving some connexion to the piece; which, however, makes no pretension to regularity. It has been suggest- ed to me by friends, on whose opinions I seta high value, that in this fictitious character, " Childe Harold," I may incur the suspicion of having intended some real person- age : this I beg leave, once for all, to disclaim — Harold is the child of imagination, for the purpose I have stated. In some very trivial particulars, and those merely local there might be grounds for such a notion ; but in the main points, 1 should hope, none whatever. It is almost superfluous to mention that the appellation "Childe," as " Childe Waters," "Childe Childers," &c. is used as more consonant with the old structure of versification which I have adopted. The " Good Night," in the beginning of the first canto, was suggested by "Lord Maxwell's Good Night," in the Border Minstrelsy, edited by Mr. Scott. With the different poems which have been published on Spanish subjects, there may be found some slight co- incidence in the first part, which treats of the Peninsula, but it can only be casual; as, with the exception of a few concluding stanzas, the whole of this poem was writ- ten in the Levant. The stanza of Spenser, according to one of our most successful poets, admits of every variety. Dr. Bealtie makes the following observation : " Not long ago I began a poem in the style and stanza of Spenser, in which I propose to give full scope to my inclination, and be cither droll or pathetic, descriptive or sentimental, tender or satirical, as the humour strikes me; for, if I mistake not, the measure which I have adopted admits equally of all these kinds of composition."* — Strengthened in my opinion bv such authority, and by the example of some in the highest order of Italian poets, I shall make no apology for attempts at similar variations in the following composition ; satisfied that, if they are unsuccessful, their failure must be in the execution, rather than in the design sanctioned by the practice of Ariosto, Thomson, and Beattie. ADDITION TO THE PREFACE. I have now waited till almost all our periodical jour nals have distributed their usual portion of criticism. To the justice of the generality of their criticisms I have nothing to object; it would ill become me to quarrel with their veiy slight degree of censure, when, perhaps, it they had been less kind they had been more candid. Returning, therefore, to all and each my best thanks for their liberality, on one point alone shall I venture an observation. Among the many objections justly urged to the very indifferent character of the " vagrant Childe," (whom, notwithstanding many hints to the contrary, I still maintain to be a fictitious personage,) it has been stated, that, besides the anachronism, he is very un- ' BdiUle'i Let'.m. CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. knigfdly, as the times of the ECnipfltS were times of love, honour, and so forth. Now it bo happens that the good old times, when " '.'amour du bun vieui tenis, 1'aniour antique" flourished, were tin' m el profligate of all pos- sible centuries. Thoso who have any doubts on ibis subject may consult St. Palaye, passim, and more parti- cularly vol. li. page 6*3. The rows of chivalry were no better kept than any oilier vows whatsoever; and the songs of the Troubadours were not more decent] and certainly were much less refined] than those of Ovid. The " Cours d'amour, parlemens d'amour ou de cour- tesie et de gentilcsse'' had nun h inon oi' l-.\ lliau o courtesy or gentleness. See Holland on the same subjecl with St. Palaye. Whatever other objection may be urged to that most unamiable personage Childe IlamM, he was so far perfectly knightly in his attributes — " No waiter, but a knight templar."* By the by. I fear that Sir Tristram and Sir Lancelot were no belter man they should be, although very poetical personages and tru-- kntghta "sans peur," though not " sans reproche." I the story of the institution of the "Gaiter" be not a fable, the knighU of that order have for several centuries * The Roven. Antijaccbln. borne the badge of a Countess of Salisbury, of indifferent memory. So much for chivalry. Burke need not have regretted that its days are over, though Maria Antuinetto was quite as chaste as most of those in whose honours lances were shivered, and knights unhorsed* Before the days of Bayard, and down to those of Sir Joseph Banks, ('In' most chaste and celebrated of ancient and modern times,) few exceptions will be found to this statement, and I fear a little investigation will teach us not to regret these monstrous mummeries of the middle ages. I now leave " Childe Harold" to live his day, such as he is; it had been more agreeable, and certainly more easy, to have drawn an amiable character. It had bten easy to varnish ^\ er bis faults, to make him do more and express less, but he never was intended as an example, further than to show that early perversion of mind and murals leads to satiety of past pleasures and disappoint- ment in new ones, and that even the beauties of nature, and the stimulus of travel (except ambition, the most powerful of all excitements) are lost on a soul so consti- tuted, or rather misdirected. Hail I proceeded with the poem, tin-, character would have deepened as he drew to (he close ; for the outline which I once meant to fill up for him was, with some exceptions, the sketch of a moder Timon, perhaps a poetical Zeluco. TO IANTIIE. Not in those climes where I have late been straying. Though Beauty long hath there been matchless deem'd ; Not in those visions to 'he heart displaying Forms which it sighs but to have only dream'd, Hath aught like thee in truth or fancy seein'd : Nor, having seen thee, shall I vainly seek To paint those charms which varied as they bcam'd To such as see thee noi my words were weak ; To those who gaze on thee what language could they speak ? Ah! may'st thou ever be what now thou art, Nor unbeseem the promise of thy spring, As fair in form, as warm yet pure in heart, Love's image upon earth without his wing, And guileless beyond Hope's imagining! And surely she who now so fondly rears Thy youth, in thee, thus hourly brightening, Beholds the rainbow of her future years, Before whoso heavenly hues all sorrow disappears. Young Peri of the West! — *t is well for me My years already doubly number thine ; My loveless eye unmoved may gaze on theo, And safely view thy ripening beauties shine ; Happy, I ne'er shall see them in decline ; Happier, 'hat while all younger hearts shall bleed, Mine shall escape the doom thine eyes as una To thus.' u! ( ..-,- admiration shall succeed, But mix'd \\ ith [ angs to Love 1 ] even km liest hours de- creed. Oh ! lit that eve, which, wild as the Gazelle's, Now brightly bold or beautifully shy, AYins as it wanders, dazzles where it dwells, Glance o'er this page, nor to my verse deny That smile for which my breast might vainly sigh, Could I to thee be ever more than friend: This much, dear maid, accord; nor question why To one so young my strain I would commend, But bid me with my wreath one matchless lily blend. Such is thy name with this my verse entwined And long as kinder eyes a look shall cast On Harold's page, Ianthe's here enshrined Shall tints be first beheld, forgotton last: My days once number'd, should this homage past Attract thy fairy fingers near the lyre Of him who hail'd thee, loveliest as thou wast, Such is the most my memory may desire Though more than Hope can claim, could Friendship less require j CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. CANTO I. Oh, thou I in Hellas deem'd of heavenly birth, Muse ! form'd or fabled at the minstrel's will ! Since shamed full oft by later lyres on earth, Mine dares not call thee from thy sacred hill : Yet there I Ve wanderM by thy vaunted rill; Yes! sigh'd o'er Delphi's long deserted shrine, 1 "Where, save lhat feeble fountain, all is still ; Nor mote my shell awake the weary Nine To grace so plain a tale — this lowly lay of mine. Whilome in Albion's isle there dwelt a youth, . Who ne in virtue's ways did take delight ; But spent his days in riot most uncouth, And vex'd with mirth the drowsy ear of Night. All, me ! in sooth he was a shameless wight, Sore given to revel and ungodly glee ; Few earthly things f jund favour in his sight Save concubines and carnal cornpanie, And flaunting wassailers of high and low degree. Childc Harold was he hight: — but whence his name And lineage long, it suits me not to say ; Suffice it, that perchance they were of fame, And had been glorious in another day : But one sad loscl soils a name for aye, However mighty in the olden time ; Nor ail that heralds rake from coflWd clay, Nor florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme, Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime. IT. Childe Harold bask'd him in the noontide sun, Disporting there like any other fly ; Nor deem'd before his little dav was done One blast might chill him into misery. But long ere scarce a third of his pass'd by, Worse than adversity the Childe befell; He felt the fulness of satiety: Then loathed he in his native land to dwell, Which seem'd to him more lone than Eremite's sad ctl. For he through Sin's long labyrinth had run, Nor made atonement when he did amiss, Had sigh'd to many though he loved but one, And that loved one, alas 1 could ne'er be his. Ah, happy she ! to 'scape from him whose kiss Had been pollution unto aught so chaste; Who soon had left her charms for vulgar bliss, And spoil'd her goodly lands to gild his waste, Nor calm domestic peace had ever deigned to last* And now Childe Harold was sore sick at heart, And from his fellow bacchanals would flee ; 'Tis said, at times the sullen tear would start, But Pride congeal'd the drop within his ee: Apart he stalk'd in joyless reverie, And from his native land resolved to go, And visit scorching climes beyond the sea ; With pleasure drugged he almost long'd for wo, And e'en for change of scene would seek the shades below. The Childe departed from his father's hall : It was a vast and venerable pile ; So old, it seemed only not to fall, Yet strength was pillar M in each massy aisle. Monastic dome ! condemn 'd to uses vile ! Where Superstition once had made her den Now Paphian girls were known to sing and smile ; And monks might deem their time was come a"en, If ancient tales say true, nor wrong these holy men. VIII, Yet oft-times in his maddest mirthful mood Strange | angs would flash along Childe Harold's brow As if the memory of some deadly feud Or disappointed passion lurk'd below : But this none knew, nor haply cared to know ; For his was not that open, artless soul That feels relief by bidding sorrow flow, Nor sought be friend to counsel or condole, Whate'er tliis grief mote be, which he could not control. IX. And none did love him — though to hall and bower He gather'd revellers from far and near, He knew them flatt'rers of the festal hour ; The heartless parasites of present cheer. Yea ! none did love him — not his lemans dear— But pomp and power alone are woman's care, And where these are light Eros finds a fere; Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare, And Mammon wins his way where Seraphs might despair. Childe Harold had a mother — not forgot, Though parting from that mother he did shun; A sister whom he loved, but saw her not Before his weary pilgrimage begun: If friends he had, he bade adieu to none. Yet deem not thence his breast a breast of steel ; Ye, who have known what 'tis to dote upon A few dear objects, will in sadness feel Such parting break the heart they fondly hope to hcaj CIIII.DE HAROLDS PILGRIMAGE. Gawtq r . His house, his home, \us heritage, his lands, The faiighing dames in whom he did delight, Whose large blue eyes, fair locks, and snowy hands, Might shake the saintship of an anchorite, And long had fed his youthful appetite; His goblets brimm'd with every costly wine, And all Uiat mole to luxury invite, Without a sigh he left, to cross tin- brute, |sjdtrav*.T>e Pay nun shores, and pass Earth's central line The sails were RUM, and fair the light winds blew, As glad to waft luin from his native home; And fast the white rocks faded from his view, And soon were lost in circumambient foam : And then, it may be, of his wish to roam Repented he, but in his bosom slept The silent thought, nor from his lips did como One word of wait, whilst others sat and wept, £jni to the reckless gales unmanly moaning kept. But when ihe sun was sinking in the sea He seized liis harp, which he at times could string, And strike, albeit with untaught melody, When deem'd he no strange ear was listening: And now bis fingers o'er it he did Sing And tuned liis farewell in the dim twilight. While flew the vessel on her snowy wing, And fleeting shores receded from his sight, Thus to the elements he pourM his last "Good Night. 'Adieu, adieu! my native shore Fades o'er the waters blue; The Night-winds sigh, the breakers roar, And shrieks the wild seamew. Yon Sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his Sight ; Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native Land — Good Night! tt A few short hours and He will rise To give the Morrow birth; And I shall hail the main and skies, But not my mother Earth. Deserted is my own good hall, Its hearth is desolate ; Wild weeds are gathering on tho wall ; My dog howls at the gate. "Come hither, hither, my little page! Why dost thou weep and wail 1 Or dost thou dread the billows' rage, Or tremble at the gale ? But dash the tear-drop from thine eye ; Our ship is swift and strong: Our fleetest falcon scarce can fly More merrily along." 4. 'Let winds he shrill, let waves roll high, I fear not wave nor wind ; Yet marvel not, Sir Childe, that I Am sorrowful in mind ; For I have from my father gone, A mother whom I love, And have no friend, save these alone, But thee — and one above. 5. Mv father blessM me fervently, ^ el did not modi complain ; But sorely will my mother sigh Till I come back again.' — "Enough, enough, my little lad! Such tears become thine If I thy guileless boBom had, Mine own would not be dry. hither, my staunch yeoman, Why dost thou lot k B0 pale? Or dost thou dread a French fucman? Or shiver . 'DeenVst thou I tremble for my life? Sir Childe, I'm not so weak; But thinking un an absent wife Will Uanch a faithful cheek. 7. 'Mv spon-. and boys dwell near thy hall, Along the bordering lake, And wh.n thry on their father call, What answer shall she make?' — "Enough, enough, mv yeoman good. Thy grief let none gainsay; But I, who am of lighter mood, Will laugh to DM away. 8. "For who would trust tho seeming sighs Of wift or paramour ? Fresh feres will dry the bright blue eyes We late saw streaming o'er. For pleasures past I do not grieve, Nor perils gathering near; My gn Steal gi ii f is that I leave No tiling that elanns a tear. 9. "And now I'm in the world alone, Upon the wide, wide sea: But why should I for others groan, When none will sigh for me ? Perchance my dog will whine in vain, Till fed by stranger bands; But long ere I come back again, lied tear me where he stands. 10. "With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go Athwart the foaming brine; Nor care what land thou bcar'st me to, So not again to mine. Welcome, welcome, ye dark-blue waves! And when you fail my sight, Welcome, ye deserts, and ye cares! My native Land — Hood Night!" On, on the vessel flic, the land is gone, And winds are rude in Biscay's sleepless bay. Four days are sped, but with the fifth, anon, New shores descried make every bosom gay; And Cintra's mountain greets them on their way, And Tagus dashing onward to the deep, His fabled golden tribute bent to pay ; And soon on board the Lusian pilots leap, And steer 'twixt fertile shores where yet few rustics reef Caxto [. CHILD E HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. Oh, Christ! it is a gnoclly sight to see What Heaven hath ■ delicious land! What fruits of fragrance I ry tree! What goodly prospects o'er the hills expand! But man would mat ui impious hand: And when the Almighty lifts his fiercest scoi XjJainst those who most transgress his high command, With treble n iXI his h rt shafts urge Gaul's locust host, and earth from feUest (oemen purge. XVI. What beauti- ■> first unfold! Her r thai noble tide, Which poets vainly pave with sands of gold, But now whi ■ tisand keels did ride Of mighty strength, since Albion was allied, An 1 i" the Lumans did her aid afford: A nation swoln with ignorance and pride, Who lick yel loathe the hand that waves the sword To save them from the wrath of Gaul's unsparing lord. XVII. But whoso entered] within this town, That, sheening far, celestial seems to be, Disconsolate will wander up and down, many things unsightly to strange ee; For hut and palace show like filthily : The dingy denizens are rear'd in dirt; Ne personage of high or mean degree Doth care t >ul or shirt, Though shent with Egypt's plague, unkempt, unwash'd, unhurt. XVIII. Poor, paltry slaves! yet born 'midst noblest scenes — Why, Nature, waste thy wonders on such men? Lot Cinlra's glorious Eden intern In variegated maze of mount and 'n. Ah. me! what hand can penril guide, °r p^n, To follow half on which the eye dilates, Through news more dazzling unto mortal ken Than those whereof such things the bard relates, Who to the awe-struck world unlock'd Elysium's gates? XIX. The horrid rra^s, by toppling convent crown'd, The cork-trees hoar that clothe the shaggy steep, in luntain-moxj by scon hing Bkies imbrown'd, The sunken glen, whose sunless shrubs must weep, The tender azure of the unruffled deep, The orange tints that gild the greenest bough, The torrents that from <-liif to valley lean, The vine on high, the willow branch below, Mml in one mighty scene, with varied beauty glow. xx. Then slowly climh the many-winding way, Ann 1 frequent turn to ou go, From loftier rocks new loveline a survey, And rest vel a.1 our ■■].:< \ wt*f* Where frugal monks their little relics show, And sundry legends to the stranger tell: Here impious m**n have punish'd been, and lo! Deep in yon rave Honorius long did dwell, tn hope '" merit Heaven by making earth a Hell. XXI. And here and there, as up the crags you spring, Mark many rude-caned crosses near the path: Vet deem not these devotion's offering — These are memorials frail of murderous wrath : For v r \\ i tun hath t?our\I forth his blood beneath the a BassuVe knife, Some hand erects a cross of mouldering lath ; And grove and glen with thousand such are rife Throughout Uiis purp!e land where law secures not life. 3 On sloping mounds, or in the vale beneath, Are domes where whilome kings did make repair; But now the wild flowers round them only breathe; Yet ruin'd splendour sail is lingering there. And yonder towers the Prince's palace fair: There thou too, Vathek ! England's wealthiest son, Once funnd thy Paradise, as not aware When wanton Wealth her mightiest deeds hath done, Meek Peace voluptuous lures was ever wout to shun. XXIII. Here didst thou dwell, here schemes of pleasure plan, Beneath yon mountain's ever beauteous brow: But now, as if a thing unblest by Man, Thy fain' duelling is as lone as thou! Here giant weeds a passage scarce allow To halls deserted, portals gaping wide: Fresh lessons to the thinking bosom, how Vain are the pleasaunces on earth supplied; Swept into wrecks anon by Time's ungentle tide! XXIV. Behold the hall where chiefs were late convened! 4 Oh ! dome displeasing unto British eye ! With diadem night foolscap, lo! a fiend, A little fiend that scoffs incessantly, There sits in parchment robe arrayM, and by His siJe is hung a seal and sable scroll, Where blazon'd glare names known to chivalry, And sundry signatures adorn the roll, Whereat the Urchin points and laughs with all his soui. XXV. Convention is the dwarfish demon styled That fuiTd the knights in Marialva's dome: Of brains (if brains they had) he them beguiled, And turn'd a nation's shallow joy to gloom. Here Folly dash'd to earth the victors plume, And Policy regain'd what amis had lost; For chiefs like ours in vain may laurels bloom ! Wo to the conqu'ring, not the conquer'd host, Since baffled Triumph droops on Lusitania's coast. XXVI. And ever since that martial synod met, Britannia sickens, Cintra! at thv name; And folks in office at the mention fret, And fain would blush, if blush they could, for shame. How will posterity the deed proclaim! Will not our own and fellow-nations sneer, To view these champions cheated of their fame, By foes in fight o'erthrown, yet victors here, Where Scorn her finger points through many a coming year? xxvri. So dcein'd the Childe, as o'er the mountains he Did take his way in solitary guise: Sweet was the scene, yet soon he thought to flee, More restless than the swallow in the skies: Though here a while he learn'd to moralize, For meditation fix'd at times on him ; And conscious Reason whisper'd to despise His early youth, inispent in maddest whim ; But as he gazed on truth his aching eyes grew dim. XXVIII. To horse! to horse! he quits, far ever quits A scene of peace, though soothing to his soul: Attain he rouses from hi' moping fits, But seeks not now th« harlot and the bowl. Onward he Hies, nor fi-'d as yet the goal Where he shall real him on his pilgrimage; And o'er him many changing scenes must roll Ere toil his tlxirst for travel can assuage, Or he shall calm his breast, or leam experience sage. Q CJiILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. Caxto I Yet Mafra shall one moment claim delay,' Where dwelt of yore the Lusians' hidden queen; Ami church and court did mingle their array, Ami mas ami revel were alternate seen; Lordlings and frcres — ill-sorted fry I ween! But here the Babylonian whore hath hu:lt A dome, where flaunts she in such glorious sheen, That men forget the blood which she i.alli spilt, And bow the knee to Pomp that loves to varnish gtalt. xxx. O'er vales that teem with fruits, romantic hills, (Oil, that such hills upheld a freebom race!) Whereon to gaze the eye with joyaunce fills, Childe Harold wends through many a pleasant place. Though sluggards deem it but a foolish chase, And marvel men should quit their easy chair, The toilsome way, and long, long league to trace, Oh! diere is sweetness in the mountain air, And life, that bloated Ease can never hope to share. XXXI. More bleak to view the lulls at length recede, Ami, less luxuriant, smoother vales extend: Immense horizon-bounded plains succeed! Far as the eye discerns, withouten end, Spain's realms appear whereon her shepherds tend Flocks, whose rich fleece right well the trader knows— Now must the pastor's arm his lambs defend: For Spain is compass'd by unyielding foes, A ml all must shield their all, or share Subjection's woes, XXXII. Where Lusitania anil her sister meet, Deem ve what bounds the rival realms divide? hi ere the jealous queens of nations greet, Doth Tayo interpose Ins mighty tide ! Or dark Sierras rise in craggy pud'.' Or fence of art, like China's vasty wall ? — Ne barrier wall, ne river deep and wide, Ne horrid crass, nor mountains dark and tall, Rise like the rocks Uiat part Hispania's land frum Gaid. XXXIII. But these between a silvor streamlet glides, And scarce a name distinguished! the brook, Though rival kingdoms press its verdant sides. Here leans the idle shepherd on his crook, And vacant on the rippling waves doth look, That peaceful still "twirl bitterest foemen flow; For proud each peasant as the noblest duke: Well doth the Spanish hind the difference know Twixt him and Lusian slave, the lowest of the low. 6 XXXIV. But en- the mingling bounds have far been pass'd, Dark Quad i rolls his power along In sullen lull,. us, murmuring and \ast, So noted ancient roundelays among. Whilome upon his banks did legions throng Of Moor and knight, in mailed splendour drest : Here ceased the swift theii trade, hen sunk the strong; The Paynim turban and the Christian crest MiArV on die bleeding stream, by floating hoists opprcss'd. XXXV. Oh, lovclv Spain! renown'd romantic land! Where is that standard which Pelagio bore, When Cava's traitor-sire first call'd the band That dyed thy mountain streams with Gothic gore?' Where are those bloody banners which of yore "Waved o'er thy sons, victorious to the gale, And drove at last the spoilers to their shore ? Red gleam'd the cross, and waned the crescent pale, echoes thrift! with Moorish matrons' wail xxxvi. Teems not each ditty with the glorious tale 1 Ah ! such, alas ! the hero's amplest fate ! When granite moulders and when records fail, A peasant's plaint prolongs his dubious date. Pride ! bend thine eye from heaven to thine cstato, See how the Mighty shrink into a song! Can Volume, Pillar, Pile, preserve thee great? Or must thou trust Tradition's simple tongue, When Flattery sleeps with thee, and History doer Owe wrong ? XXXVII. Awake, ye sons of Spain! awake! advance! Lo! Chivalry, your ancient goddess, cries; But wields nut, as of old, her thirsty lance, Nor shakes her crimson plumage in the skies: Now on the smoke uf blazing bolts she flics, And speaks in thunder through yon engine's roar: In every peal she calls— "Awake! arise!" Say, is her voice more feeble than of yore, When her war-song was heard on Andalusia's shore? XXXVIII. Hark ! heard you not those hoofs of dreadful note ? Sounds not the clang of conflict on the heath? Saw ye not whom the reeking sabre smote; Nor saved your brethren ere they sank beneath Tyrants anil tyrants' slaves? — the fires of death, The bale-fires flash on high : — from rock to rock Each volley tells that thousands cease to breadiei Death rides upon the sulphury Siroc, Red Battle stamps his foot, and nations feel the shock. XXXIX. Lo! where Ihe Giant on the mountain stands, His Hood-red tresses deep'ning in the sun, With death-shot glowing in his fiery hands, And eye that scorcheth all it glares upon ; Restless it rolls, now lix'd, and now anon Flashing afar, — and at his iron feet Destruction cowers, to mark what deeds are done ; For on this morn three potent nations meet, To shed before his shrine die blood he deems most sweel By Heaven ! it is a splendid sight to see (For one who hath no friend, no brother there) Their rival scarfs of mL\'d embroidery, Their various arms that glitter in the air! What gallant war-hounds rouse them from their lair, And 2iiash their fan?s, loud yelling for Uie prey! All join the chase, but few the triumph share; The Grave shall hear the chiefest prize away, And Havoc scarce for joy can number their array. XXI. Three hosts combine lo offer sacrifice; Three tongoes prefer strange orisons on high; Three gaudv standards thmt the pale blue skies; The shiiuls are France, Spain, Albion, Victory! The fee, tl«' victim, and the fond ally That fights for all, but ever fights in vain, Are met — as if at home they could not die — To feed the crow on Talavera's plain, And fertilize Uio field that each pretends to gain. XLII. There shall they rot — Ambition's honour'd fools! Yes, Honour decks the turf that wraps their clay ! Vain Sophistry ! in these behold the tools, The broken tools, that tyrants cast away By myriads, when they dare to pave their way With human hearts — to what? — a dream alone. Can despots compass aught that hails their sway? Or call with truth one spnn of earth their own, Save that wherein at last they crumble bone by bone 7 Canto I. CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. XLIII. Oh, Albuera! glorious field of grief! As o'er thy plain the Pilgrim prick'd his steed, Who could foresee thee, in a space so brief, A scene where mingling foes should boast and bleed ! Peace to the perish'd! may the warrior's meed And tears of triumph their reward prolong ! Till others fall where other chieftains lead, Thy name shall circle round the gaping throng, And shine m worthless lays, the theme of transient song ! XLIV. Enough of Battle's minions! let them play Their game of lives, and barter breath for fame: Fame that will scarce reanimate their clay, Though thousands fall to deck some single name. In sooth 'twere sad to thwart thei^noble aim "Who strike, blest hirelings ! for their country's good, And die, that living might have proved her shame ; Perish'd, perchance, in some domestic feud, Or in a narrower sphere wild Rapine's path pursued. XLF. Full swiftly Harold wends his lonely way Where proud Sevilla triumphs unsubdued: Yet is she free — the spoiler's wish'd-for prey ! Soon, soon shall Conquest's fiery foot intrude, Blackening her lovely domes with traces rude. Inevitable hour! 'Gainst fate to strive Where Desolation plants her famish'd brood Is vain, or Ilion, Tyre, might yet survive, And Virtue vanquish all, and Murder cease to thrive. XX. YX. But all unconscious of the coming doom, The feast, the song, the revel here abounds; Strange modes of merriment the hours consume, Nor bleed these patriots with their country's wounds : Nor here War's clarion, but Love's rebeck sounds ; Here Folly still his votaries inthralls ; And young-eyed Lewdness walks her midnight rounds : Girt with the silent crimes of Capitals, StUl to the last kind Vice clings to the tott'ring walls. XLVII. Not so the rustic — with his trembling mate He lurks, nor casts his heavy eye afar, Lest he should view his vineyard desolate, Blasted below the dun hot breath of war. No more beneath soft Eve's consenting star E andango twirls his jocund castanet : Ah, monarchs ! could ye taste the mirth ye mar, Not in the toils of Glory would ye fret ; The hoarse dull drum would sleep, and Man be happy yet! XJ.VIII. How carols now the lusty muleteer? Of love, romance, devotion, is his lay, As whilome he was wont the leagues to cheer, His quick bells wildly jingling on the way ? No ! as he speeds, he chants, " Viva el Rey !" And checks his song to execrate Godoy, The royal wittol Charles, and curse the day When first Spain's queen beheld the black-eyed boy, And gore-faced Treason sprung from her adulterate joy. XLIX. On yon long, level plain, at distance crown'd With crags, whereon those Moorish turrets rest, Wide scatter'd hoof-marks dint the wounded ground ; And, scathed by fire, the greensward's darken'd vest Tells that the foe wa3 Andalusia's guest: Here was the camp, the watch-flame, and the host, Here the bold peasant storm'd the dragon's nest ; Still does he mark it with triumphant boast, And points to yonder cliffs, wliich oft were won and lost, And whomsoe'er along the path you meet Bears in his cap the badge of crimson hue, Which tells you whom to shun and whom to greet ' • Wo to the man that walks in public view Without of loyalty this token true: Sharp is the knife, and sudden is the stroke; And sorely would the Gallic foeman rue, If subtle poniards, wrapt beneath the cloke, Could blunt the sabre's edge, or clear the cannon's smoke. LI. At every turn Morena's dusky height Sustains aloft the battery's iron load; And, far as mortal eye can compass sight, The mountain-howitzer, the broken road. The bristling palisade, the fosse o'erflowM, The station'd bands, the never-vacant watch, The magazine in rocky durance stowM, The holsteVd steed beneath the shed of thatch, The ball-piled pyramid, the ever-blazing match, 10 HI. Portend the deeds to come : — but he whose nod Has tumbled feebler despots from their sway A moment pauseth ere he lifts the rod ; A little moment deignelh to delay: Soon will his legions sweep through these their way; The West must own the Scourger of the world. Ah! Spain! how sad will be thy reckoning-day, When soars Gaul's Vulture, with his wings unfurl'd, And thou shalt view thy sons in crowds to Hades hurl'd. LIU. And must they fall? the young, the proud, the bravej To swell one bloated Chief's unwholesome reign? No step between submission and a grave? The rise of rapine and the fall of Spain? And doth the Power that man adores ordain Their doom, nor heed the suppliant's appeal? Is all that desperate Valour acts in vain? And Counsel sage, and patriotic Zeal, The Veteran's skill, Youth's fire, and Manhood's heart of steel ? LIT. Is it for this the Spanish maid, aroused, Hangs on the willow her unstrung guitar, And, all unsex'd, the anlace hath espoused, Sung the loud song, and dared the deed of war ? And she, whom once the semblance of a scar Appalfd, an owlet's larum chill'd with dread, Now views the col umn- scattering bay'net jar, The falchion flash, and o'er the yet warm dead Stalks with Minerva's step where Mars might quake to tread. LV. Ve who shall marvel when you hear her tale, Oh ! had you known her in her softer hour, Mark'd her black eye that mocks her coal-black veil, Heard her light, lively tones in Lady's bower, Seen her long locks that (oil the painter's power, Her fairy form, with more than female grace, Scarce would you deem that Saragoza's tower Beheld her smile in Danger's Gorgon face, Thin the closed ranks, and lead in Glory's fearful chase. LVI. Her lover sinks — she sheds no ill-timed tear; Her chief is slain — she fills his fatal post; Her fellows flee — she checks their base career ; The foe retires— she heads the sallying host; Who can appease like her a lover's ghost? Who can avenge so well a leader's fall? What maid retrieve when man's flush'd hope is lostt Who hang so fiercely on the flying Gaul, Foil'd by a woman's hand, before a batter'd wall?" CH1LDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. (' IBTO r. Yet arc Span's ma'dfl no racj of Amazons, But formU for all the witching arts of Ion ; Though thus in arms tiny emulate her sons. ■ And in the horrid pi alanx da c to move, Tia but the tender Gerceness of tlte dove, Pecking the hand that hovers o'er her mate: In softness as in nVmness far i hove Remoter females, filmed for sickening prate; Her mind is nobler sure, her charm? perchance as great h vm. The seal Love's dimpling finger hftth impressed Denotes how soil that "Inn which bears his touch:" Her lips, whose kisses poul to leave their nest, Bid man be valiant ere he merit such*: Her glance how wildly beautiful ! bow much Hath Phu-bus woo'd in vain to spoil her cheek, , Which glows yet smoother from his amorous clutch! Who round the North for paler dairies would seek? How poor their funis appear! how languid, wan, ami weald LIX. Match me, ye climes! which poets love to laud; Match me, ye harams of die land ! where now I strike my strain, far distant, to applaud Beauties that ev'n a cynic must avow ; Match me those Houries, whom ye scarce allow To taste the gale lest Love should ride the wind, With Spain's dark-glancing daughters — deign to know There your wise Prophet's paradise we find, His black-eyed maids of Heaven, angelically kind. L3C. Oh, thou Parnassus! 1 * whom I now survey, Not in the phrensy of a dreamer's eye, Not in the fabled landscape of a lay, But soaring snow-clad through thy native sky In the wild pomp of mountain majesty! What marvel if I thus essay to sing? The humblest of thy pilgrims passing by Would gladly woo thine Echoes with his string, Though from thy heights no more one Muse will wave her wing. LXI, Oil have I dream'd of Thee ! whose glorious name Who knows not, knows not man's divinest lore : And now I view thee, 'tis, alas! with shame That I in feeblest accents must adore. When I recount thy worshippers of yore I tremble, and can only bend the knee; Nor raise my voice, nor vainly dare to soar, But gaze beneath thy cloudy canopy In silent joy to think at last I look on Thee! LXil. Happier in this than mightiest bards have been, Whose fate to distant homes Confined their lot, Shall I unmoved behold the hallow'd scene, Which others rave ofj though they know it not? Though here no more ApoUo haunts his grot, And thou, the Muses' seat, art now their grave, Some gentle spirit still pervades the spot, Sighs in the gale, keeps silence in the cave, And glides with glassy foot o'er yon melodious wave. LXIII. Of thee hereafter. — Ev'n amidst my strain I turu'tl aside to pay my homage hero ; Forgot the land, the sons, the maids of Spam ; Her fate, to every frccborn bosom dear ; And hail'd thee, not perchance without a tear. Now to my theme — but from thy holy haunt Let mo some remnant, sonic memorial bear; Yield mo one leaf of Daphne's deathless plant, Nor let thy votary's hope be dcemM an idle vaunt. LXIV. But ncVr didst thou, lair Mount! when Greece was See round thy giant base a brighter choir, [young! N<>r e'er did Delphi, when her priceless sung The Pythian hymn with more than mortal lire, Behold a train more firing to inspire The song of love than A aids, Nurst in the glowing Lap ofsofl di All! that to i ■ aceful shades As Greece can still bestow, though Glory liy her glades. LXV. Fair ' her country boasl Her strength, her wealth, her site of ancient days;" Kul Cadiz, rising on Ca forth ter, though ignoble pi Ah, Vice! how soft i rolupluo \\ I i . i, ,vi -h blood is mantling who can 'scape The fascination of Uiy magic gaze .' A Cherub-hydra round us dost thou gag e, And mould to every taste thy dear delusive shape. When Paphos fell by time — accursed Time! The queen who conquers all must yield to thee— The Pleasures fled, but sought as warm a clime ; And Venus, constant to her native sea, To nought else constant, hither deigu'd to flee; And fix'd her shrine within these walls of wliite: Though not to one dome circumscribeth she Her worship, but, devoted to bor rite, A thousand altars rise, for ever blazing bright- From morn till night, from night till startled Morn Peeps blushing on the revel's Laughing crew, The song is hcanl, the rosy garland worn. Devices quaint, and frolics ever new, Tread on each other's kibes, A long adieu He bids to sober joy thnt here sojourns: Noughl interrupts the riot, though in lien Of true devotion monkish incense burns, And love and prayer unite, or ride the hour by turns. LXVI1I. The Sabbath comes, a day of blessed rest ; What hallows it upon this Christian shore? Lo! it is sacred to a solemn feast ; Hark! heard you not the forest monarch's roar? Crashing the lance, lie snuffs the spouting gore Of man and steed, overthrown beneath ins horn. The throng'd arena shakes with shouts for more; Yells the mad crowd o'er entrails freshly torn, Nor shrinks the female eve, nor ev'n affects to mourn. The seventh day this; the jubilee of man. London! right well th u know'sl the day of prayer: Then thy spruce citizen, uash'd artisan, And smug apprentice gulp their weekly air: Thy coach of Hackney, whiskey, one-horse chair, And humblest gig through sundry suburbs whirl, To Hampstead, Brentford, Harrow make repair; Till the tired jade the wheel forgets to hurl, Provoking envious gibe from each pedestrian churl. I. XX. Some o'er thy Thamis row the ribbon'd (air, I Ithers along the safer turnpike fly; Some Richmond-hill ascend, some send to Ware, And manv to the steep of EBghgate hie. A^k ve, Boeotian shades! the reason why? 1 * 'Tis to the worship of the solemn Horn, Grasp'd in the holy hand of Mystery, In whose dread name both men and maids are sworn, And consecrate the oath with draught, and dance till morn. Canto I. CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. All have their fooleries — not alike are thine, Fair Cadiz, rising o'er the dark blue sea! Soon as the matin bell proclaimeth nine, Thy saint adorers count the rosary: Much is the Virgin teased to shrive them free (Well do I ween the only virgin there) From crimes as numerous as her beadsmen be; Then to the crowded circus forth they fare: Young, old, high, low, at once the same diversion share. LXXII. The lists are oped, the spacious area clear'd, Thousands on thousands piled are seated round; Long ere the first loud trumpets note is heard, Ne vacant space for lated wight is found: Here dons, grandees, but chiefly dames abound, Skill'd in the ogle of a roguish eye, Yet ever well inclined to heal the wound ; None through their cold disdain are doom'd to die, As moonstruck bards complain, by Love's sad archery. LXXIII. HushM is the din of tongues— on gallant steeds, With milk-white crest, gold spur, and light-poised lance, Four cavaliers prepare for venturous deeds, And lowly bending to the lists advance; Rich are their scarfs, their chargers fcatly prance : If in the dangerous game they shine to-day, The crowd's loud shout and ladies' lovely glance, Best prize of better acts, they bear away, And ail that kings or chiefs e'er gain their toils repay. LXXIV. In costly sheen and gaudy cloak array'd, But all afoot, the light-limb'd Matadore Stands in the centre, eager to invade The lord of lowing herds ; but not before The ground, with cautious tread, is traversed o'er, Lest aught unseen should lurk to thwart his speed : His arms a dart, he fights aloofj nor more Can man achieve without the friendly steed- Alas ! too oft condemn'd for him to bear and bleed. Thrice sounds the clarion; lo! the signal falls, The den expands, and Expectation mute Gapes round the silent circle's peopled walls. Bounds with one lashing spring tlie mighty brute, And, wildly staring, spurns, with sounding Coot, The sand, nor blindly rushes on his foe : Here, there, he points his threatening front, to suit His first attack, wide waving to and fro His angry tail; red rolls his eye's dilated glow. LXXVI. Sudden he stops ; his eye is fix'd : away, Away, thou heedless boy! prepare the spear: Now is thy time, to perish, or display The skill that yet may check his mad career. With well-timed croupe the nimble coursers veer ; On foams the bull, but not unscathed he goes; Streams from his flank the crimson torrent clear: He flies, he wheels, distracted with his throes ; Dart follows dart ; lance, lance ; loud bellowings speak his woes. Again he comes ; nor dart nor lance avail, Nor the wild plunging of the tortured horse ; Though man and man's avenging arms assail, Vain are his weapons, vainer is his force. One gallant steed is stretch'd a mangled corse ; Another, hideous sight ! unseam'd appears, His gory chest unveils life's panting source ; Though death-struck, still his feeble frame he rears ; Staggering, but stemming all, his lord unharm'd he bears. B Z.XXVIJI. Foil'd, bleeding, breathless, furious to the last, Full in the centre stands the bull at bay, Mid wounds, and clinging darts, and lances brast, And foes disabled in the brutal fray : And now the Matadores around him play, Shake the red cloak, and poise the ready brand : Once more through all he bursts his thundering way- Vain rage ! the mantle quits the conynge hand, Wraps his fierce eye — 'tis past — he sinks upon the sand ! LXXIX. Where his vast neck just mingles with the spine, Sheathed in his form the deadly weapon lies. He stops— he starts— disdaining to decline : Slowly he falls, amidst triumphant cries, Without a groan, without a struggle dies. The decorated car appears— on high The corse is piled — sweet sight for vulgar eye*- ■ Four steeds that spurn the rein, as swift as shy, Hurl the dark bulk along, scarce seen in dashing by. LXXX. Such the ungentle sport that oft invites The Sjianish maid, and cheers the Spanish swain. Nurtured in blood betimes, his heart delights In vengeance, gloating on another's pain. What private feuds the troubled village stain! Though now one phalanx'd host should meet the foe, Enough, alas! in humble homes remain, To meditate 'gainst friends the secret blow, For some slight cause of wrath, whence life's warm stream must flow. LXXXI. But Jealousy lias fled : his bars, his bolls, His wither'd centinel, Duenna sage ! And all whereat the generous soul revolts, Which the stern dotard deem'd he could encase, Have pass'd to darkness with the vanish'd age. Who late so free as Spanish girls were seen, (Ere War uprose in his volcanic rage,) With braided tresses bounding o'er the green, While on the gay dance shone Night's lover-loving Queen ? LXXXII. Oh ! many a time, and oft, had Harold loved, Or dream'd he loved, since Rapture is a dream ; But now his wayward bosom was unmoved, For not yet had he drunk of Lethe's stream; And lately had he leam'd with truth to deem Love has no gift so grateful as his wings : How fair, how young, how soft soe'er he seem, Full from the fount of Joy's delicious springs Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings. '• LXXXI1I. Yet to the beauteous form he was not blind, Though now it moved him as it moves the wise ; Not that Philosophy on such a mind E'er deign'd to bend her chastely-awful eyes: But Passion raves itself to rest, or flies ; And Vice, that digs her own voluptuous tomb, Had buried long his hopes, no more to rise : Pleasure's pall'd victim! life-abhorring gloom Wrote on his faded brow curst Cain's unresting doom. LXXXIV. Still he beheld, nor mingled with the throng ; But view'd them not with misanthropic hale: Fain would he now have join'd the dance, the song ; But who may smile that sinks beneath his fate? Nought that he saw his sadness could abate: Yet once he struggled 'gainst the demon's sway, And as in Beauty's bower he pensive sate, Pour'd forth this unpremeditated lay To charms a* fair as those that soothed his happier day. 10 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE- Casto I. TO INEZ. 1. Nat, smito not at my sullen brow; Alas ! I cannot smile again : Yet Heaven avert that ever ihou Shouldst weep, and haply weep in vain. 2. And dost thou ask, what secret wo I bear, corroding joy and youth? And wilt thou vainly seek to know A pang, ev'n thou must fail to sooth? 3. It is not love, it is not hate, Nor low Ambition's honours lost, That bids rae loathe mv present state, And fly from all I prized the most: 4. It is that weariness which springs From all I meet, or hear, or sec To me no pleasure Beauty brings ; Thine eyes have scarce a charm for me. 5. It is that settled, ceaseless gloom The fabled Hebrew wanderer bore ; That will not look beyond the tomb, But cannot hope for rest before. 6. What Exile from himself can flee? To Zones, though more and more remote^ Still, still pursues, where-e'er I be, The blight of life— the demon Thought. 7. Yet others rapt in pleasure seem, And taste of all that I forsake; Oh ! may they still of transport dream, And ne'er, at least like me, awake ! Through many a clime 'tis mine to go, "With many a retrospection curst; And all my solace is to know, Whate'er betides, I Ve known the worst. What is that worst ? Nay do not ask — In pity from the search forbear: Smile on — nor venture to unmask Man's heart, and view the Hell that's there. lxxxv. Adieu, fair Cadiz! yea, a long adieu! Who may forget how well thy walls have stood? When all were changing thou alone wert true, First to be free and last to l>e subdued: And if amidst a scene, a shock so rude, Some native blood was .seen thy streets to die; A traitor only fell beneath the feud:" Hero all were noble, save Nubility; None hugg'd a conqueror's chain, save fallen Chivalry! LXXXVI. Such be the sons of Spain, and strange her fate ! They fight for freedom who were never free ; A Kingless people for a nerveless slate, Her vassals comhat when their chieftains flee, True to the veriest slaves of Treachery: Fond of a land which gave them nought but life, Pride points the path that leads to Liberty; Back to the struggle, baffled in the strife, War, war ii still the cry, ■ War even to the knife !"'• LXXXV1I. Ye, who would more of Spain and Spaniards know, Go, read whate'er is writ of bloodiest strife: "Whate'er keen Vengeance urged on foreign foe Can act, is acting there against man's life : From flashing cimiter to • crel knife, War mouldeth there each weapon to his need So may he guard the sister and the wife, S. in pressor bleed, So may such foes deserve the most remorseless deed* LXXXV II I. Flows there a tear of pity for the dead? Look o'er the ravage of the reeking plain; Look on the hands with female slaughter red; Then to the dogs resign the onburied slam, Than to the vulture lei each curse remain; Albeit unworthy of the - maw, Lei their bleacb'd bones, and blood's mil, leaching stain, Long mark the battle-field with hideous awe: Thus only may our sons conceive the scenes we saw . rxxxix. Nor yet, alas! the dreadful work is done; Fresh legions pour adown the Pyrenees: It deepens sail, the work Is scarce begun, Nor mortal eye the distant end foresees. Falln nations gaze on Spain; if freed, she frees More than her fell Pizarros once enchain 'd: Strange retribution! now Columbia's ease Repairs the wrongs that Quito's sons sustained. While o'er the parent clime prowls Murder unrestrain'd xc. Not all the blood at Talavera ahed, Not all the marvels of Barussa's fight, Not Albuera lavish of the dead, Have won for Spain her well-asserted right. When shall her Olive-Branch be free Com blight 7 When shall she breathe her from the blushing toil? How many a doubtful day shall sink in night, Ere the Frank robber turn him from his spoil, And Freedom's stranger-tree grow native of the soil! xci. And thou, my friend !' 9 — since unavailing wo Bursts from my heart, and mingles with the strain— - Had the sword laid thee with the mighty low, Pride might (brbid ev'u Friendship to complain: But thus unlaurcTd to descend in vain, By all forgotten, save the lonely breast, And mix unbleeding with the boasted slam, While Glory crowns so many a meaner crest ! What hadst thou done to sink so peacefully to rest* xcn. Oh, known the earlie.-t, and csfconi'd tho most! Dear to a heart where nought was left so dear! Though to mv hopeless days P»r ever lost, In dreams deny me not to see thee here! And Morn in secret shall renew the tear Of Consciousness awaking to her woes, And Fancy hover o'er thy bloodless bier, Till my frail frame return to whence it rose, And mourn'd and mourner lie muted in repose. xcin. Hero is one fytte of Harold's pilgrimage: Ye who of him may further seek to know, Shall find some tidings in a future page, If he that rhymeth now may scribble moe. Is this too much? stem Critic! say not so: Patience! and ye shall hear what he beheld In other lands, wher s h» was doom'd to go: Lands that contain he n onuments of Eld, Ere Greece and Grot in a ts by burbarous hands wers quell'd. Canto II. CIULDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. 11 CANTO II. Come, blue-eyed maid of heaven ! — but thou, alas ! Didst never yet one mortal song inspire — Goddess of Wisdom ! here thy temple was, And is, despite of war and wasting fire, 1 And years, that bade thy worship to expire: But worse than steel, and flame, and ages slow, Is the dread sceptre and dominion dire Of men who never felt the sacred glow That thoughts of thee and thine on polish'd breasts bestow. 2 Ancient of day*! an just Athena! where, Where are thy men of might? thy grand in soul? Gone — glimmering through the dream of things that First in the race that led to Glory's goal, [were : They won, and pass'd away — is this the whole? A schoolboy's tale, the wonder of an hour! The warrior's weapon and the sophist's stole Are sought in vain, and o'er each mouldering tower, Dun willi the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power. Son of the morning, rise ! approach you here ! Come — but molest not yon defenceless urn: Look on this spot — a nation's sepulchre ! Abode of gods, whose shrines no longer burn. Even gods must yield — religions take their turn: 'Twas Jove's — 'tis Mahomet's — and other creeds "Will rise with other years, till man shall learn Vainly his incense soars, his victim bleeds; Poor child of Doubt and Death, whose hope is built on reeds. IV. Bound to the earth, he lifts his eye to heaven — I 't noUenough, unhappy thing! to know Thou art? Is this a boon so kindly given, That being, thou would'st be again, and go, Thou know'si not, reck'st not to what region, so On earth no more, but mingled with the skies? Still will thou dream on future joy and wo? Regard and weigh yon dust before it flies: That little urn saith more than thousand homilies. Or bursi the vanish'd Hero's lofty mound ; Far on the solitary shore he sleep? : J He fell, and falling nations mourn'd around; But now not one of saddening thousands weeps, N'.r warlike-worshipper his vigil keeps Where demi-nods appear'd, as records tell. Remove von skull from out the scatter'd heaps: Is that a temple where a God may dwell? Why cv'n the worm at last disdains her shatter'd cell! VI. Look on its broken arch, its ruin'd wall, Its chambers desolate, and portalo foul: Yes, this was once Ambition's airy hall, The dome of Thought, the palace of the Soul: Behold through each lack-lustre, eyeless hole, The gay recesa of Wisdom and of Wit And Passion's aost, that ne" er brook'd control: Can all saint, age, or sopk.it ever writ, People this lonl J tower, this ' :nemcnt refit? Well didst thou speak, Athena's wisest son! * All that we know is, nothing can be known." Why should we shrink from what we cannot shun? Earn has his pang, but feeble sufferers groan AY uh brain-born dreams of evil all their own. Pursue what Chance or Fate proclaimeth best; Peace waits us on the shores of Acheron : There no forced banquet claims the sated guest, But Silence spreads the couch of ever welcome rest. VIII. Yet i£ as holiest men have deem'd, there be A land of souls beyond that sable shore, To shame the doctrine of the Sadducee And sophists, madly vain of dubious lore ; How sweet it were in concert to adore With those who made our mortal labours light! To hear each voice we fear'd to hear no more! Behold each mighty shade reveal'd to sight, The Eactrian, Sarnian sage, and all who taught the right! IX. There, thou! — whose love and life together fled, Have left me here to love and live in vain — Twined with my heart, and can I deem thee dead, When busv Memory flashes on my brain? Well — I will dream that we may meet again, And woo the vision to my vacant breast: If aught of young Remembrance then remain, Be as it may Futurity's behest, For me 'twere bliss enough to know thy spirit blest * Here let me sit upon this massy stone, The marble column's yet unshaken base ; Here, son of Saturn! was thy favVite throne: 4 Mightiest of many such ! Hence let me trace The latent grandeur of thy dwelling-place. It may not be: nor ev'n can Fancy's eye Restore what Time hath labour'd to deface. Yet these proud pillars claim no parsing sigh; Unmoved the Moslem sits, the light Greek carols by. But who, of all the plunderers of yon fane On high, where Pallas linger'd, loath to flee The latest relic of her ancient reign; The last, the worst, dull spoiler, who was he? Blush, Caledonia! such thy son could be! England ! I joy no child he was of thine: Thv freo-born men should spare what once was free , Yet they could violate each saddening shrine, And bear these altars o'er the long-reluctant brine.* But most the modern Pict's ignoble boast, To rive what Goth, and Turk, and Time hath spared * Cold as the crags upon his native coast, His mind as barren and his heart as hard, Is he whose head conceived, whose hand prepared, Aught to displace Alhena's poor remains Her sons too weak the sacred shrine to guard, Yet felt some portion of their mother's pains,* And never knew, till then, the weight of Despot's chains. What! shall it e'er be said by British tongue, Albion was happy in Athena's tears? Though in thy name the slaves her bosom wrung, Tell not the deed to blushing Europe's ears; The ocean queen, the free Britannia, bears The last poor plunder from a bleeding land: Yes, she, whose gen'rous aid her name endear*, Tore down those remnants with a harpy's hand, 1 Which envious Eld forbore, and tyinta left to stand. 12 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. Casto II. Where was thine JEgi^ Pallas ! that appall'J Stern Alaric and Havoc on their way ?• Where Peleus' son ? w hom Hell in vain enthralled, His shades from Hades upon that dread day Bursting to light in terrible array! What ! could not Pluto spare the chief once more, To scare a second robber from his prey ? Uly lie wander'd on the Stygian shore, Nor now preserved the walls he loved to shield before. xv. Cold is the heart, fair Greece! that looks on thee, Nor feels as lovers o'er the dust they loved ; Pull is the eye that will not weep to see Thy walls defaced, thy mouldering shrines removed By British hands, which it had best behooved To guard those relics ne'er to be restored. Curst be the hour when from their isle they roved, And once again thv hapless bosom gored, And snatch'd thy shrinking Gods to northern climes abhorr'd ! XVI. But where is Harold 7 shall I then forget To urge the gloomy wanderer o'er the wave? Little rcck'd he of all that men regret; No loved-one now in feign'd lament could rave ; No friend the parting hand extended gave, Ere the cold stranger pass'd to other climes: Hard is his heart whom charms m^y not enslave; But Harold felt not as in other times, And left without a sigh the land of war and crimes. XVII. He that has sail'd upon the dark blue sea Has view'd at times, I ween, a full fair sight; When the fresh breeze is fair as breeze may be, The white sail set, the gallant frigate tight; Masts, spires, and strand retiring to the right, The glorious main expanding o'er the bow, The convoy spread like wild swans in their flight, The dullest sailer wearing bravely now, 60 gaily curl the waves before each dashing prow. XVIII. And oh, the little warlike world within ! The well-reeved gunsj the netted canopy, 9 The hoarse command, the busy humming din, When, at a word, the tops are mami'd on high : Hark to the Boatswain's call, the cheering cry ! While through the seaman's hand the tackle glides ; Or schoolboy Midshipman that, standing by, Strains his shrill pipe as good or ill betides, And well die docile crew that skilful urchin guides. XIX. White is the glassy oV |'s serene: — Here Harold was received B weicomi gui ■( ; Nor did he pass unmoved the gentle --< ene, For many a joy eould lie from Nights soft presence glean. On the smooth shore the night-fires brightly blazed, The feast was dour, the red wine curding last, 21 And he that unawares had there ygazed With gaping wonderment had stared aghast; For ere night's imdm >st, sillies! hour was past, The native revels of ilie troop began ; Each Palikar" his sabre from him cast, And bounding hand in hand, man link'd to man, Yelling their uncouth dirge, long daunced the kirtled clan. Childe Harold at a little distance stood And view'd, but not displeased, the revelrie, Nor hated harmless mirth, however rude: In sooth, it was no vulgar sight to see Their barbarous, yet their not indecent, glee ; And, as the flames along their faces gleam'd, Their gestures nimble, dark eyes flashing fi ee, The long wild locks that to their girdles stream'd, While thus in concert they this lay half sang, half seream'd: 30 1. 11 Tambourgi! Tambourgi!* thy larum afar Gives hope to the valiant, and promise of war; All the sons of the mountains arise at the note, Chimariot, Illyrian, and dark Suuute! Oh! who is more brave than a dark Suliote, In his snowy camese and his shaggy capote? To the wolf and the vulture he leaves Ins wild flock, And descends to the plain like the stream from the rock Shall the sons of Clumari, who never forgive The fault of a friend, bid an enemy live? Let those guns so unerring such vengeance forego? What mark is so fair as the breast of a foe? Macedonia sends forth her invincible race; For a time they abandon the cave and the chase But those scarfs of bl l-red shall be redder, before The sabre is sheathed and the battle is o'er. Then the pirates of Parga that dwell by the waves, And teach the pale Franks what it is to be slaves, Shall leave on the beach the long galley and oar, And track to his covert the captive on shore. 6. I ask not the pleasures that riches supply, My sabre Khali win what the feeble must buy ; Shall win the young bride with her long flowing hair, And many a maid from her mother shall tear. 7. I love the fair faco of the rnaid in her youth, Hit caresses shall lull me, her music shall sooth; Let her bring from the chamber her many-toned lyre And sing us a soul' on the fall of her sire. 8. Remember the moment when Previsa fell, 3fl The shrieks of the conouer'd, the conquerors' yell, The roofs that we fired, and the plunder we shared, The wealthy we slaughter'd, the lovely we spared. 9. I talk not of mercy, I talk not of fear; He neither must know who would serve the Vizier: Since the days of our prophet the Crescent ne'er saw A chief ever glorious like All Pashaw. 10. Dark Muchtar his son to the Danube is sped, Let the yellow-hair'd* Uiaoursj view his horse-tailj with drea I ; When his Delhis§ come dashing in blood o'er the banks, How few shall escape from the Muscovite ranks'. 11. Seliclar! || unsheathe then our chief's scimitar: Tambourgi! thy 'laruni gives promise of war. Ye mountains, that see us descend to the shore, Shall view us as victors, or view us no more! I.XXIII. Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth! 1 * Immortal, though no more; though fallen, great! Who now shall lead thy scatter'd children forth, And Inn . ! bondage uncreate ? Not sueh thy Bona who whilomc did await, The hopeless warriors of a willing doom, In bleak Thermopylae sepulchral strait— Oh! who that ^allani spirit shall resume, Leap from Kuiotas' banks, and call thee from the tomb? LXXIV. Spirit of freedom! when on Phyle's brow 34 Thou sat'st with Thrasybulus and his train, Couldst thou forebode the dismal hour which now Dims the green beauties of thine Attic plain? Not thirty tyrants now enforce the chain, But every carle can lord it o'er thy land ; Nor rise thy sons, but idly rail in vain, Trembling beneath the scourge of Turkish hand, From birth till death enslaved; in word, in deed, unmann'd. LXXV. In all save f>rm alone, how changed ! and who That marks the fire still sparkling in each eye, Who bul would deem their bosoms hurn'd anew Wi'li thy unquenched beam, lost Liberty 1 And many dream withal the hour is ni>'h Thai give* them bach thi ir fathers 1 heritage: For foreign .urns and aid they fondly sigh, Nor solely dari encounter hostile rage, Or tear their name defiled from Slavery's mournful pa<*e. LXXVI. Hereditary bondsmen! know ye not Who would be free themselves must strike the blow? By their right arms the conquest must be wrought? Will Gaul or Muscovite redress ye ? no! True, they may lay your proud despoilers low, But not for you will Freedoms altars flame. Shades of the Helots! triumph o'er your (be! Greece! change thy lords, thy state is still the same; Thy glorious day is o'er, but not thy years of shame. • y/tllow i« ilie cfiitliet kivcd to Ibfl Ruiilnni. J Hor»e-UiU in the iusignj* of ft 1'aclii. $ Honemea, answering lo cir forlorn tn)ji«. t it,r.it«i. I Swortl-bMrsr. Caxto II. CHILDE, HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. 17 LXXVII. The city won fir Allah from the Giaour, The Giaour from Othman's race again may wrest ; And the Serai's impenetrable tower Receive the fiery Frank, her former guest; 34 Or Wahab's rebel brood who dared divest The 3 * prophet's tomb of all its pious spoil, May wind their path of blond along the West; But ne'er mil freedom seek this fated soil, Cut slave succeed to slave through years of endless tuU. I.XXVII1. Vet marl; their mirth — ere ltntcn days begin, That penance which their holy rites prepare To shrive from man bis weight of mortal sin, By daily abstinence and nightly prayer ; But ere las sackcloth garb Repentance wear, Some days of joyaunce are decreed to all, To take of pleasaunce each his secret share In motley robe to dance at masking ball, And join the mimic train of merry Carnival. LXXIX. And whose more rife with merriment than thine, Oh Stamboul! once the empress of their reign? Though turbans now pollute Sophia's shrine, And Greece her very altars eyes in vain: (Alas! her woes will still pervade ray strain!) Gay were her minstrels once, for free her throng, All felt the common joy they now must feign, Nor oft I've seen such sight, nor heard such song, As woo'd the eye, and thrill'd the Bosphorus along. LXXI. Loud was the lightsome tumult of the shore, Oft Music changed, but never ceased her tone, And timely echo'd back the measured oar, And rippling waters made a pleasant moan: The Queen of tides on high consenting shone, And when a transient breeze swept o'er the wave, 'Twas, as if darting from her heavenly throne, A brighter glance her form reflected gave, Till sparkling billows seem'd to light the banks they lave. X.XXXI. Glanced many a light caique along the foam, Danced on the shore the daughters of the land, Ne thought had man or maid of rest or home, Wliile many a languid eye and thrilling hand Exchanged the look few bosoms may withstand, Or gently prest, rcturnd ih<» pressure siiil : Oh Love ! young Love ! bound in thy rosy band, Let sage or cyme prattle as he will, These hours, and only these, redeem Life's years of ill ! LXXXII. But, midst the throng in merry masquerade, Lurk there no hearts that throb with secret pain, Even through the closest searment half betray'd? To such the gentle murmurs of the main Seem to re-echo all they mourn in vain ; To such the gladness of the gamesome crowd Is source of wayward thought and stern disdain: How do they loathe the laughter idly loud, And long to change the robe of revel for the shroud ! This must he feel, the true-horn son of Greece, If Greece one true-bom patriot still can boast: Not such as prate of war, but skulk in peace, The bondsman's peace, who sighs for all he lost, Yet with smooth smile his tyrant can accost, And wield the slavish sickle, not the sword : Ah ! Greece ! thi y love thee leas! who owe thee most ; Tneir birth, their blood, and that sublime record Of hero sires, who shame thv now degenerate horde! C LXXXIT. When riseth Lacedemon's hardihood, When Thebes Epaminondas rears again, When Athens' cliildren are with hearts endued, When Grecian mothers shall give birth to men, Then may'st thou be restored ; but not till then. A thousand years scarce serve to form a state; An hour may lay it in the dust: and when Can man its shattered splendour renovate, Recal its virtues back, and vanquish Time and Fate *? LXXXV. And yet how lovely in thine age of wo, Land of lost gods and godlike men! art thou! Thy vales of evergreen, thy hills of snow, 37 Proclaim thee Nature's varied favourite now ; Thy fanes, thy temples to thy surface bow, Commingling slowly with heroic earth, Broke by the share of every rustic plough : So perish monuments of mortal birth, So perish all in turn, save well-recorded Worth ; LXXXVI. Save where some solitary column mourns Above its prostrate brethren of the cave; 3a Save where Tritonia's airy shrine adorns Colonna's cliff, and gleams along the wave; Save o'er some warrior's half-forgotten grave, Where the gray stones and unmolested grass Ages, but not oblivion, feebly brave, While strangers only not regardless pass, Lingering like me, perchance, to gaze, and sigh "Alas I" I.XXXVII. Yet are thy skies as blue, thy crags as w ild ; Sweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy fields, Thine olive ripe as when Minerva smiled, And still his honied wealth Hymettus yields ; There the blithe bee his fragrant fortress builds, The freeborn wanderer of thy mountair.-air ; Apollo still thy long, long summer gilds, Still in his beam Mendelis marbles glare; Art, Glory, Freedom fail, but Nature still is fair. X.XXXVIII. Where'er we tread 'tis haunted, holy ground ; No earth of thine is lost in vulgar mould, But one vast realm of wonder spreads around, And all the Muse's tales seem truly told, Till the sense aches with gazing to behold The scenes our earliest dreams have dwelt upon : Each hill and dale, each deepening glen and wold Defies the power which crush'd thy temples gone : Age shakes Athena's tower, but spares gray Marathc* X.XXXIX. The sun, the soil, but not the slave, the same , Unchanged -in alt except its foreign lord — Preserves alike its bounds and boundless fame The Battle-field, where Persia's victim horde First bow'd beneath the brunt of Hellas' sword, As on the morn to distant Glory dear, When Marathon became a magic word ; 3 * Which utter'd, to the hearer's eye appear * The camp, the host, the fight, the conqueror's career. The flying Mede, his shafllcss broken bow; The fiery Greek, his red pursuing spear; Mountains above, Earth's, Ocean's plain below. Death in the front, Destruction in the rear! Such was the scene — what now remaineth here? What sacred trophy marks the hallow'd ground, Recording Freedom's smile and Asia's tear? The rifled urn, the violated mound, The dust thy courser's hoofj rude stranger ! spurns around . kS CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. Canto II L Yet to the remnants of thy splendour past Shall pilgrim throng; Long shall the voyager, with th' Ionian blast, Hail the bright clime of battle and of song; Lont; ; ."i immortal ; Fill with th] , ■ , : . many a shore; Boast of the aged! lesson of t] - young! Which sages venerate ami bards adore, As Pallas and the Muso unveil their awful lore. The parted bosom clings to wonted home, If aught that's kindred cheer the welcome hearth; He that is lonely hither lei him ro tm, And gaze complacent on c ugeniaJ - arth. Greece is do lightsome land of social mirth: But he whom Sadrn ahide, And scarce regret the region of bis birth) Wh< i wan by I telphi's sacred side, Or gazing o'er the plai ! nan died. zcin. Let such approach this consecrated land) And pass in peace along the magic wb But spare its relics — let no busy hand Deface the scenes, already how defaced! Not fbr such purpose were these altars placed; Revere the remnant nations once revered: So may our country's name be undisgraned, So may's! thou prosper where thy youth was rear'd, By every honest joy of love and life endearM! XI IV. For thee, who thus in too protracted song Hast soothed thine idlesso with inglorious lays, Soon shall thy voice be lust amid the ihrong Of louder minstrels in these lad I To such resign the strife for fading bays — 111 may such contest now the spirit move Winch heeds nor 1 i proacb nor partial praise ; Since cold each kinder heart that might approve, And none are left to please when none arc left to love. Thou too art gone, thou loved and lovely one! Whom youth and youth's alh-ruons limmd to me ; Who did tor me what none beside have done, Nor shrank from one albeit unworthy thee. \\ hat is my being ' th >u hast ceased to he! N\>r staid hi re thy wanderer hornc, "Who mourns o*er hours which we no more shall see— Would they had never been, or were t" i row ' "\\ wild he had ne'er rcturn'd to find fresh cause to main XCVI. ( >\ ! ever lo\ ing, toi ely, and bi loi ed ' How selfish Sorrow ponders on the past, And clings to thoughts now better far removed! B it Time shall tear thy shadow from me last. All thou couldsl have of mine} stern I teath! thou hast The parent, friend, and now the more than friend: Ne'er y el I arrows flew so fast, And grief with grief continuing still to bli nd. Hath snatch'd the tittle joy that lift bad yel to lend. Then must I plunj ■ i the crowd, And follow all that Peace disdains to seek \ Where Revel calls, and Laughter, vainly loud, False to the heart, distorts the hollow cheek, To leave the flagging spirit doubly \\ Still oVr the features, which perforce they cheer, To feign the pleasure or conceal the pi Smiles form the channel of a future tear, Or raise the writhing lip with ill-disscmblcd sneor. What is the wi that wait on age? What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow ? To view each loved one blotted from life's page, And be alt ne id ■ I am now. numbly let m ; ■ v'd : Roll on, vain days! may ye How, Sin© I ' soul enjoy'd, And with the ills of Eld mine earlier years alloy'd. CANTO III. ' A/in t\*nt telle R] pMKT i oulrt cboM ; ■ ii',- i i ■ Lt.irt du A li Aiembert, Stpt.T, 1TJ6, Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child! Ada ! 0i mi I. and heart ? When last I saw thy yourj 'hey smiled. And then we parted) — not as now we part, But with B hop'-. — Awaking v\it!i a start, The watei hi ave around me; and on high The winds lift up then roio : 1 depart, Whither I know aoi\ but the hour "s gone by, When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye. ii. Once more upon the waters! yet once more! Ami the waves bound beneath me as a steed That knows his rid" r. W elcome, to their roar! Swift be then rheresoe'er it lead! Th' iugh tlie - : ' '-..in I ma I I as a reed, And the rent canvass Buttering strew the gale, Still musl 1 "ii : for I am as a weed] Flung from the rock, on ( '<■• anV foani] to sail Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail. in. In my youth's summer 1 did sing of One, The wandering outlaw of his own dark mind; A gain I seize the theme then but begun, And hear it with me, as the rushing wind Bears the cloud onward* : in thai Tale I find The furrows of long thought, and dried-up tears, Which, ebbing leave a teril track behind^ O'er which all heavily the journeying \ears Plod the last sands of life, — where not a llower appears. IV. Since my or pain, Perchance my heart and harp h i[l »gi And both ma} jar: il maj be, thai in vain i would i i Yet, though a dreary strai I < ling, So thai n ween me fi m the weary dream Of selfish grief or gladness — so ii kd me — it .shall ■ i m i , though to none else, a not ungrateful theme. v. He, who grown aged in this world of wo, In deedi pien ing the depths of life, So thai no wonder waits him; nor below i '.in love, or sorrow, lame, ambition, strife^ Cut to Ins heart again with the ke* n Unifo Of silent, sharp endurance: be can tell w . though! sei ta refuge in lone eaves, yet rue With which dwell Still uiumoairVl, though old, in the soul's haunted ceU. Canto III. CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. i9 'Tis to create, and in creating live A being more intense, that we endow With form our fancy, gaining as we give The life we image, even as I do now. What am I .' Nothin •: but nol so art thou, Soul of my thought! with whom I traverse earth, Invisible but gazing, as I glow Mi\ ■' : it. blended with thy birth, And feeling still with thee in my cruih'd feelings' dearth VII. Yet must I think less wildly: — I ftow (nought Too long and darkly, till my brain became, In its own edd | i rought, A whirling gulf of pi I flame: And thus, untaught in youth my heart to tame, My springs of life were poi ion' I. 'Tis too late! Vet am I 'hanged; though still enough the same In strength to bear what time can not abate, And feed on bitter fruits without accusing Fate. Something too much of this : — but now 'tis past, And the spell closes with its silent seal. Lon^' absent Harold reappears at last; He of the breast which fain no more would feel, Wrung with the wounds which kill not, but ne'er hea! Yet Til II, had alter'd him In soul and aspect as in a^e : years steal Fire from the mind as vigour from the limb; And life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim. His had been quaff'd too quickly, and he found The dregs were wormwood ; but he nll'd again, And from a purer fount, on holier ground, And deem'd its spring perpetual; but in vain! Still round him clung invisibly a chain "Which gall'd for ever fettering though unseen. And heavy though it clank' 1 not; worn with pain, Which pined although it spoke not, and grew L>-< n, Entering with every step he took through many a scene. x. Secure in guarded coldness, he had nuVd Again .. >ofery with his kind, And deem'd his spirit now so firmly fix'd And shcath'd with an in 1 mind, That, if no joy, no sorrow lurk'd behind*; And he, as one, might stand led, .searching through the crowd to find Fit speculation ; such a land He found in wonder-works of God and Nature's hand. But who ran view th se, nor seek To wear it? who can curiously behold >thness and the sheen >A' beauty's cheek, Nor (eel the heart can never all grow old? \\ ho can contemplate Fame through clouds unfold The star which rises o'er her steep, nor climb? Ha ro roll'd On with the _: Time, Yet with a nobler aim than in his youth's fond prime. XII. But soon he knew himself the most unfit Of men to herd with .Man; with whom he held Little in common; untaught to submit His thoughts to others, though his soul was quell'd In youth by his own thoughts; still uncompelPd, He would nol yield dominion of his mind To spirits against whom his own rebell'd; Proud though in desolation; which could find A life within itself, to breathe without mankind. Where rose the mountains, there to liim were L.c-nds, Where roll'd the ocean, thereon was his nome ; 1 e a Hue sky, and glowing clime, extends, He had the passion and the power to roam : The desert, forest, cavern, breaker's foam, Were unto him companionship; they spake A mutual language, clearer than the tome Of his land's tongue, which he would oft forsake For Nature's pages glass'd by sunbeams on th ) lake. XIV. Like the Chaldean, he could watch the stars, Till he had peopled them with beings bright As their own beams; and earth, and earth-born jar^ And human frailties, were forgotten quite: Could I lave kept his spirit to that Might He had been happy ; but this clay will sink l ark immortal, envying it the To which it mounts, as if to break the link That keeps us from yon heaven which woos us to its brink xv. But in Man's dwellings he became a thing Restless and worn, and stern and wearisome, Droop'd as a wild-born falcon with cbpt wing, To whom the boundless air alone were home: Then came his fit again, which to o'ercome, As eagerly the barr'd-up bird will beat His breast and beak against his wiry dome Till the blood tinge his plumage, so the heat Of his impeded soul would through his bosom eat. XVI. Self-exiled Harold wanders forth again, With nought of hope left, but with less of gloom; The very knowledge that he lived in vain, That all was over on this side the tomb, Had made Despair a smilingness assume, Which, though 'twere wild, — as on the plundered wreck When mariners would madly meet their doom With draughts intemperate on the sinking deck,— Did yet inspire a cheer, which he forbore to check. xvii. m Stop !— -For thy tread is on an Empire's dust! An Earthquake's spoil is sepulchred below I Is the spot mark'd with no colossal bust? Nor column trophied for triumphal show? None ; bul the moral's truth tells simpler so, As die ground was before, thus let it be ; — How that red rain hath made the harvest grow' And is this all the world has gain'd by thee. Thou first and last of fields! king-making Victory? XVIII. And 1 I is pi ice of skulls, The grave of Fran< Waterloo; How in an hour the power which gave annuls I ifls, transferring fame as fleeting too! In "pride of place" 1 here last the eagle flew, Then tore with b! >ody talon the rent plain, Pierced by the shaft of banded nations through; Ambition's life and labours all were vain ; He wears the shatter'd links of the world's broken chain Fit retribution! Gaul may champ the bit And foam to fetters ; — but is Earth more free ? I >id nations combat to make One submit; Or league to teach all kings true sovereignty? What 1 shall reviving '1 hraldom again be The patch'd-up idol of enlighten'd days? Shall we, who struck the Lion down, shall we Pay the W.. If homage? proffering lowly yaze And servile knees to thrones? No ; prove before ye praise ! 20 CIIILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. Canto III. If not, o'er one fallen despot boast no more ! In vain fair checks were furrow'd with hot leans For Europe's flowers long rooted up before The trampler of her vineyards; in vain years Of death} depopulation, bondage, fears. Have all been borne, and broken by the accord Of roused-up millions: all that most endears Glory, is when the myrtle wreathes n. sword Such as Ilarmodius 2 drew on Athens' tyrant lord. XXI. There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men ; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell. Soft eves lookM love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a man m»e-bell ; 3 Put hush ! hark ! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell 1 XXII. Did ye not hear it? — No; 'twas bul the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street ; On with the dance! let joy be onconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure moct m'o chase the glowing Hours with Hymg feet — But, hark! — thai heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before ! Arm! Arm! it is— it is — the cannon's opening roar! XXIII. Within a windowM niche of that high hall Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain; he did hear That sound the first amidst the festival, And caught its tone with Death's prophi tic ear: And when they smiled because he deem'd it near, llis heart more truly knew that peal too well Which stretch'd his father on a bloody bier, And roused the vengeance blood alone could qtiell : He rush'd into the field, and, foremost fighting, fell. XXIV. Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and trei ibl n ofd b n And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blush 1 d at the praise of their own loveliness ; And there were sudden partings, such as press The lift from out young hearts, and choking sighfl "Which ne'er might be repealed ; who could guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Rince upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise? XXV. And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, \\ nit pouring forward with impetuou pi ed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Ri M ed up the ■' lier ere the morning star; While throng'd the citizens with terror dumb, ■ V whispering with white lips — ''The foe! They como! they come!" xxvi. And wild and high the "Cameron's gathering" rose! The war-note of Lochiel, which Albynta lulls Have heard, and heard, too, hav t foes: — How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills, Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills Their mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineers With the fierce native daring which instils The stirring memory of a thousand years And * Evan's, b Donald's fame rings in each clansman's Mrs' XXVII. And Ardennes" waves above them her green leaves. I >ewy with nature's tear-drop*, as they pass, tin. Yin inimate e'er g Ovei thi urn ■ i lvc, — alas ! Ere evening to be trodden Uke the grass \\ hich now beneath them, bul above shall grow In us next verdure, win d this fiery mass ( if Living valour, rolling on the foe And burning with high liope, shall moulder cold and low xxvm. Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Lasl eve in Beauty^ circle proudly gay, The midnight brought Ihe signal-sound of strife, i m irn the marshalling in arms, — the day Battle's magnificently-stern array! , i close o'er it, which when rent The earth is covert thick with other cl Which her own clay shall cover, heap'd and p p nt, Rider and horse, — friend, foe, — in one red burial blent! XXIX. Their praise is hymn'd by loftier harps than mine, > i i one I would select from that proud throng, Partly because they blend me with his line, And partly that I did his sire some v.rong, And partly that bright names will hallow song; And his was of the bravest, and when shower'd The death-bolts deadliest the thinn'd files along, Even where the thickest of war's tempest lower'd, They reach'd no nobler breast than thine, young, gallant Howard! XXX. There have been tears and breaking hearts for thee, And mine were nothing had I such to give; Bul when 1 stood beneath the fresh green tree, Which living waves where thou didst cease to live, And saw around me the wide field revive Willi fruits and fertile promise, and the Spring Come forth her work of gladness to contrive, With all her reckless birds upon the wing, I turiul from all she brought to those she could not bring/ XXXI. I turn'd i" thee, to thousands, of whom each And one as all a ghastly gap did make In his hah kind and kindred, whom to teach Forgetrjuness were mercy for their sake; The Archangel's trump, not Glory's, must awake i ho e whom they thirst for ; though the sound of Fame \l i\ t >r a moment sooth, il cannot slake The fever of vain longing and the oarni So honour^ but assumes a stronger, bitterer claim. xxxn. They mourn, but smile at length; and, smiling, mourn The ii ,\ I w nh' i it fall ; The hull drives nn, though ill be torn; The ttree Bmksj bul moulders on the hall In in : runi'd «al! Stands when its wind-worn battlements are gone; : ;u i survive the captive they enthral; The day drags through tho 1 storms keep out the sun And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on: XXXIII. Even as a broken mirror, which the glass In every fragment multiplies; and makes lusand images of one thai was. The same, and still the more, the more it breaks; And thus the bear) will do which not forsakes, Living in shaiter'd guise, and still, and cold, And bloodless, with its sleepless sorrow aches, Yet withers on till all without is old, Showing no visible sign, for such things are untold. Canto III. C1IILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. 21 XXXIV. There is a very life in oar despair, Vitality of poison, — a quick root Which feeds these deadly branches; for it were As nothing did we die ; but Life will suit Itself to Sorrow's most detested fruit, Like to the apples on the " Dead Sea's shore, All ashes to the taste : Did man compute Existence by enjoyment, and count o'er Such hours 'gainst years of life, — say, would he name threescore'? XXXV. The Psalmist number'd out the years of man: They are enough ; and if thy tale be true, Thou, who didst grudge him even that fleeting span, More than enough, thou fatal Waterloo! , Millions of tongues record thee, and anew Their children's lips shall echo them, and say "Here, where the sword united nations drew, " Our countrymen were warring on that day !" And ihis is much, and all which will not pass away. XXXVI. There sunk the greatest, nor the worst of men, Whose spirit antithetically mixt One moment of the mightiest, and again On little objects with like firmness Ext, Extreme in all things ! hadst thou been betwixt, Thy throne had still been thine, or never been; For daring made thy rise as fall : thou seek'st Even now to reassume the imperial mien, /nd shake again the world, the Thunderer of the scene! XXXVII. Conqueror and captive of the earth art thou ! She trembles at thee still, and thy wild name Was r.e'er more bruited in men's minds than now That thou art nothing, save the jest of Fame Who woo'd thee once, thy vassal, and became The flatterer of thy fierceness, till thou wert A god unto thyself; nor less the same To the astounded kingdoms all inert, Who deem'd thee for a time whate'er thou didst assert. If, like a tower upon a headlong rock. Thou hadst been made to stand or fall alone, Such scorn of man had help'd to brave the shock; But men's thoughts were the steps which paved thy Their admiration thy best weapon shone ; [throne The part of Philip's son was thine, not then ( Unless aside thy purple had been thrown) Like stern Diogenes to mock at men ; For sceptred cynics earth were far too wide a den.' XLII. But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell, And llure hath been thy bane ; there is a fire And motion of the soul which will not dwell In its own narrow being, but aspire Beyond the fitting medium of desire ; And, but once kindled, quenchless evermore, Preys upon high adventure, nor can tire Of aught but rest; a fever at I he core, Fatal to him who bears, to all who ever bore. XLIII. This makes the madmen who have made men mad By their contagion ; Conquerors and Kings, Founders of sects and systems, to whom add Sophists, Bards, Statesmen, all unquiet tilings Which stir too strongly the soul 's- secret springs, And are themselves the fools to those they fool ; Envied, yet how unenviable ! what stings Are theirs! One breast laid open were "a school Which would unteach mankind the lust to shine or ru.e ; xliv. Their breath is agitation, and their life A storm whereon they ride, to sink at last, And yet so nursed and bigoted to strife, That should their days, surviving perils past, Melt to calm twilight, they feel overcast With sorrow and supineness, and so die ; Even as a flame unfed, which runs to waste With its own flickering, or a sword laid by Which cats into itself, and rusts ingloriously. XXXVIII. Oh, more or less than man — in high or low, Battling with nations, flj ing from the field ; Now making monarehs' necks thy footstool, now More than thy meanest soldier taught to yield ; An empire thou couldst crush, command, rebuild, But govern not thy pettiest passion, nor. However deeply in men's spirits skill'd, Look through thine own, nor curb the lust of war, Nor learn that tempted Fate will leave the loftiest star. XXXIX. Yet well thy soul hath brook'd the tumin» tide With that untaught innate philosophy, Which, be it wisdom, coldness, or deop pride, Is sail and wormwood to an enemy. When the whole host of hatred stood hard by, To watch and mock thee shrinking, thou hast smiled W Hh a sedate and all-enduring eye ; When Fortune fled her spoU'd"and favourite child He stood unbow'd beneath the ills upon him piled. ' XL. Sager than in thy fortunes; for in them Ambition steel'd thee on too far to show That just habitual scorn which could contemn Men and their thoughts ; 'twas wise to feel, not so To wear it ever on thy lip and brow, And spurn the instruments thou wert to use Till they were turn'd unto thine overthrow: 'Tis but a worthless world to win or lose ; Bo hath it proved to thee, and all iiuch lot who choose. He who ascends to mountain-tops, shaU find The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow , He who surpasses or subdues mankind, Must look down on the hate of those below. Though high above the sun of glory glow, And far beneath the earth and ocean spread, Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blow Contending tempests on his naked head, And thus reward the toils which to those summits led. XLVI. Away with these! true Wisdom's world will be Within its own creation, or in thine, Maternal Nature ! fur who teems like thee, Thus on the banks of thy majestic Rhine? There Harold gazes on a work divine, A blending of all beauties; streams and dells, Fruit, foliage, crag, wood, cornfield, mountain, vine, And chiefless castles breathing stem farewells From gray but leafy walls, where Ruin greenly dwells xlvii. And there they stand, as stands a lofty mind, Worn, but unstooping to the baser crowd, All tenantless, save to the crannying wind, Or holding dark communion with the cloud. There was a day when they were young and proud, Banners on high, and battles pass'd below; But they who fought are in a bloody shroud, And those wliich waved are shredless dust ere now. And the bleak battlements shall bear no future blow. 22 CHTLDE HAROLDS PILGRIMAGE. Canto III. Beneath these battlements, within those walls, Power dwelt amidst her passions ; in proud state Each robber chief upheld his armed halls, Doing bis evil will, nor leu elate Than mightier heroes of a longer date. What want these outlaws' conquerors -hould have? But History's purchased page to call them great? A wider space, an ornamented grave ? Their hopes were not less warm, their souls were full as brave. XLIX. In their baronial feuds and single fields, What deeds of prowess unrecorded died ! And Love, which lent a blazon to their shields, Willi emblems well devised by amorous pride, Through all the mail of iron hearts would «lide ; But still their flame was fierceness, and drew on Keen contest and destruction near allied, And many a tower for some fair mischief won, Saw the discolour'd Rhine beneath its ruin run. L. But Thou, exulting and abounding river! Making thy waves a blessing as they flow Through banks whose beauty would endure for ever Could man but leave thy bright creation so, Nor its fair promise from the surface mow Willi the sharp scythe of conflict, — then to see Thy valley of sweet waters, were to know Earth paved like Heaven ; and to seem such to me, Even now what wants thy stream ? — that it should Lethe be. LI. A thousand battles have assail'd thy banks, But these and half their fame have pass'd awav, And Slaughter heap'd on high his weltering ranks; Their very graves are [one, and what arc they? Thy tide wash'd down the blood of yesterday, And all was stainless, and on thy clear stream Glass 'd with its dancing light the sunny ray; But o'er the blacken'd mem >r\ fa blighting dream Thy waves would vainly roll, all sweeping as they seem. LIT. Thus Harold inly said, and pass'd along, Yet not insensibly to all which here Awoke the jocund birds to early song In glens which might have made even exile dear: Though on his brow were graven lines austere, And tranquil sternness which had ta'en the place Of feelings fierier far but less severe, Joy was not always absent from his face, But o'er it in such scenes would steal with transient trace. LIU. Nor was all love shut from him, though his days Of passion had consumed themselves to dust. It is in vain that we would coldly gaze On such as smile upon us; the heart must Leap kindly back to kindness, though disgust Hath wean'd it from all worldlings: thus he felt, For there was soft remembrance] and sweet trust In one fond breast, to which his own would melt, And in its tenderer hour on that Ins bosom dwelt. LIT. And he had learn'd to love, — I know not why, For this in such as him seems strange of mood,— The helpless looks of blooming infancy, Even in its earliest nurture ; what subdued, To change like tJiis, a mind so far imbued With scorn of man, it little boots to know; But thus it was; and though in solitude Small power the nipp'd affections have to grow, In hun tins gloVd when all beside had ceased to glow. And there was one soft breast, as hath been said, \\ In eh unto his was bound by stronger ties Than the church links withal; and, though unwed, That love was pure, and, far above disguise, Had Btood the test of mortal enmities Still undivided, and cemented more By peril, dreaded most in female eyes; But this was firm, and from a foreign shore Well to that heart might his these absent greetings pour*. I. The i . of Drachenfels " Frowns oVr the wide and winding Rliine, Whose breast ol waters broadly swells Between the banks which bear the vine, And hills all rich with blossom'd trees, And fields which promise corn and wine, And scatter'd cities crowning these, Whose far white wails along them shine, Have strewM a scene, which I should see Willi double joy wert thou with me. 2. And peasant girls, with deep blue eyes, And hands which offer early flowers, Walk smiling o'er this paradise; Above, tin- frequent feudal towers Through green haves lift their walls of gray, And many a rock which steeply lowers, And noble arch in proud decay, Look o'er this vale of vintage-bowers ; But one thing want these banks of Rhine,— Thy gentle hand to clasp in mine ! 3. I send the lilies given to me ; Though long before thy hand they touch, I know that they must wither'd be, But yet reject them not as such; For 1 have cherish'd them as dear, Because they yet may meel thine eye, And guide thy soul to mine even here, \\ hen thou behold'st them drooping nigh, And know'st them gather'd by the Rhine, And olhVd from tuv heart to thine! 4. The river nobly foams and flows, The charm of this enchanted ground, And all its thousand turns disclose Some fresher beauty varying round : The. haughtiest breast its wish might bound Through life to dwell delighted here ; Nor could on earth a spot be found To nature and to me so dear, Gould thy dear eves in following mine Still sweeten more these banks of Rhino! ■- i.vi. By Coblentz, on a rise of gentle ground, There is a small and simple pyramid, Crowning the summit of (he verdant mound, Beneath its base are heroes' ashes hid, Our enemy's — but let not that forbid Honour lo Marccau ! o'er whose early tomb Tears, big tear-, gush'd from the rough soldier's lid, Lamenting and yet envying such a doom, Falling for France, whose rights he battled to resume, LVII. Brief) brave, and glorious was his young career,— Bus mourners were two hosts, his friends and foes; And fitly may the stranger lingering here Pray for his gallant spirit's bright repose ; For he was Freedom's champion, one of those, The few in number, who had not o'erstept The charter to chastise which she b. -tows On such as wield her weapons; he had kept Tho whiteness of Ids soul, and thus men o'er luni wept. 1 * Canto III. CmLDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. 23 LVIII. Here Ehrenhreitstein,' 3 with her shattered wall Black with the miner's blast, upon her height Yet shows of what she was, when shell and ball Rebounding idly on her strength did light : A tower of victory! from whence the flight Of baffled foes was watch'd along the plain : But Peace destroyed what War could never blight, And laid those proud roofs bare to Summers rain — Or. which the iron shower for years had pour'd in vain. LIX. Adieu to thee, fair Rhine ! How long delighted The stranger fain would linger on his way ! Thine is a scene alike where souls united Or lonely Contemplation thus might strav ; And could the ceaseless vultures cease to prey On self-condemn big bosoms, it were here, Where Nature, nor too sombre nor too gay, Wild but not rude, awful yet not austere, Is to the mellow Earth as Autumn to the year. LX. Adieu to thee again ! a vain adieu ! There can be no farewell to scene like thine ; The mind is coloured by thy every hue; And if reluctantly the eyes resign Their cherish 'd gaze upon thee, lovely Rhine! 'Tis with the thankful glance of parting praise ; More mighty spots may rise — more glaring shine, But none unite in one attacliing maze The brilliant, fair, and soft, — the glories of old days. LXI. The negligently grand, the fruitful bloom Of coming ripeness, the while city's sheen, The rolling stream, the precipice's gloom, The forest's growth, and Gothic walls between, The wild rocks shaped as thev had turrets been In mockery of man's art; and these withal A race of faces happy as the scene, Whose fertile bounties here extend to all, [fall. Still springing o'er thy banks, though Empires near them LXII. But these recede. Above me are the Alps, The palaces of Nature, whose vast walls Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps, And throned Eternity in icy halls Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls The avalanolic-jjhe thunderbolt of snow! All that expands, the spirit, yet appals, Gather around these summits, as to show [below. How Earth may pierce to Heaven, yet leave vain man LXIII. But ere these matchless heights I dare to scan, There is a spot should not be pass'd in vain, — Morat! the proud, the patriot field! where man May g&ZB on ghasUy trophies of the slain, Nor blush for those who conquer'd on that plain ; Here Burgundy bequeath'd his tombless host, A bony heap, through ages to remain, Themselves their monument ; — the Stygian coast wdchred they roam'd, and shriek'd each wandering ghost. 1 * LXIV. While Waterloo with CannaVs camage vies, Morat and Marathon twin names shall stand ; They were true Glory's stainless victories, Won by the unambitious heart and hand Of a proud, brotherly, and civic band, All unbought champions in no princely cause Of vice-entail 'd Corruption ; they no land Dooir'd to bewail the blasphemy of laws Making king*' rights diviuc, by some Draconic clause. By a lone wall a lonelier column rears A gray and grief- worn aspect of old days, 'Tis the last remnant of the wreck of years, And looks as with the wild-bcwilderM gaze Of one to stone converted by amaze, Yet still with consciousness; and there it stands Making a marvel that it not decays, When the coeval pride of human hands, Levell'd I5 Aventicum, hath strew'd her subject lands. LXVI. And there — oh ! sweet and sacred be the name !— Julia — the daughter, the devoted — crave Her youth to Heaven ; her heart, beneath a claim Nearest to Heaven's, broke o'er a father's grave. Justice is sworn 'gainst tears, and hers would crave The life she lived in, but the judge was just, And then she died on him she could not save. Their tomb was simple, and without a bust, And held within their urn one mind, one heart, ono dust. 16 LXVII. But these are deeds which should not pass away, And names that must not wither, though the earth Forgets her empires with a just decay, The enslavers and the enslaved, their death and birth ; The high, the mountain-majesty of worth Should be, and shall, survivor of its wo, And from its immortality look forth In the sun's face, like yonder Alpine snow, 17 Imperishably pure beyond all things below. LXYTII. Lake Leman woos me with its crystal face, The mirror where the stars and mountains view The stillness of their aspect in each trace Its clear depth yields of their fair height and hue: There is too much of man here, to look through With a ht mind the might which I behold; But soon in me shall Loneliness renew Thoughts hid, but not less cherish'd than of old, Ere mingling with the herd had penn'd me in their fold, LXIX. To fly from, need not be to hate, mankind: All are not fit with them to stir and toil, Nor is it discontent to keep the mind Deep in its fountain, lest it overboil In the hot throng, where we become the spoil Of our infection, till too late and long We may deplore and struggle with the coil, In wretched interchange of wrong for wronw Midst a contentious world, striving where none are strong. LXX. There, in a moment, we may plunge our years In fatal penitence, and in the blight Of our own soul turn all our blood to tears, And colour things to come with hues of Night; The race of life becomes a hopeless flight To those that walk in darkness: on the sea, The boldest steer but where their ports invite, But there are wanderers o\r Eternity Whose bark drives on and on, and anchord ne'er shall he. lxxi. Is it not better, then, to be alone, And love Earth only for its earthly sake ? By the blue rushing of the arrowy Rhone, 1 * Or the pure bosom of its nursing lake, Which feeds it as a mother who doth make A fair but froward infant her own care, Kissing i's cries away as these awake ;— Is it not better thus our lives to wear, Than join the crushing crowd, doora'd to inflict or bear? 24 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. Canto III. LXXII. I live not in nryselfj hut I become Portion of that around me : and to me High mountains are a feeling, hut the hum Of human cities torture : I can see Nothing to loathe ui nature, save to he A link reluctant in a fleshly chain, Class'd among creatures, when the soul can flee, And with the a£y, the p iak, the hearing plain Of ocean, or the stars, mingle, and not in rain. I.XXIII. And thus I am absorbM, and this is life; I look upon the peopled desert past, As on a place of agony and strife, Whore, for some sin, to Sorrow I was ca-r, To act and suffer, hut remount al last With a fresh pinion; which I feel to spring, Though young, ret waxing rig >rou8] as the blast Which it would cope with, on delighted wing Spuming the clay-cold bonds which round our being cling LXXIV. And when, at length, the mind shall be all free From what it hates in this degraded form, Reft of its carnal life, save what shall be Existent happier in the fly and worm, — When elements lo elements conform, And dust is as it should be, shall I not Feel all I see, less dazzling, but more warm? The bodiless thought? the Spirit of each spot? Of which, even now, 1 share at times the immortal lot ? LXXV. Arc not the mountains, waves, and skies, a part Of me and of my soul, as I of them? Is not the love of these deep in my heart With a pure passion? should I not contemn All objects, if compared with these? and stem A tide of suffering, rather than forego Such feelings fur the hard and worldly plilegm Of those whose eyes are only turn'd below, Gazing upon the ground, with thoughts which dare not glow? txxvi. But this is not my theme ; and I ••"'urn To that which is immediate, and reijuire Those who find contemplation in the urn, To look on One, whose dust was once all fire, A native of the land where I respire The clear air for a while — a passing guest, Where he became a being, — whose desire Was to be glorious; 'twas a foolish quest. The which to gain and keep, he sacrificed all rest. LZXTJI. Here the self-torturing sophist, wild Rousseau, The apostle of affliction, he who threw Enchantment over passion, and from wo Wrung overwhi lining eloquence, first drew The breath which made him wretched; yet he knew How to make madness beautiful, and cast O'er erring deeds and thoughts a heavenly hue Of words, like sunbeams, dazzling as they past The eyes, which o'er them shed tears feelingly an, fast, LXXVIII. His love was passion's essence — as a tree On fire by lightning; with ethereal flame Kindled he was, and blasted ; for to bo Thus, and enamour'd, were in him the same. But his was not the love of living dame, Nor of the dead who rise upon our dreams, But of idea! beauty, which became In him existence, and overflowing teems Along his burning page, disUmperVt though it seems. LXXIX. This breathed itself to life in Julie, this Invested her with all that's wild and sweet; This hallow'd, too, the memorable Kiss Which every morn his fever*d hp would greet, From hers, who but with friendship his would meet, But to that gentle touch, through brain and breast [ i the ilinll'd spirit's Isve^evourmg heat; In that absorbing sigh pen bance more bles^ Than vulgar minds may be with all they seek D06geaL H I. XXX. His life was i I og war with self-sought foes, Or friends by him | fbl his mind Had grown Suspicion's sanctuary, and chose For its ow d cruel kind 1 ■ ■ -i whom he raged with jury strange and blind. But he was phrensiedj — wherefore, who may know? ich skill could never find' But he was phrensied bj disease or wo, To that worst pitch of all, which wears a reasoning show. I.XXXI. For then he was inspired, and from him came, As from the Pythian*s mystic rave of yore, Those oracles which set the world in flame, Nor ceased to burn till kingdoms were no more: Did he not this for France? which lay before Bow 3 d to the inborn tyranny of years? Broken and trembling to the yoke she bore, Till by the voice of him and his compeers Roused up to too much wrath, which follows o'ergrown liars .' LXXXII. They made themselves a fearful monument! The wreck of old opinions — things which grew. Breathed from the birth of time : the veil they rent, And wkii behind it lay all earth shall view. But good with ill they also overthrew, Leaving but ruins, wherewith to rebuild Upon the same foundation, and renew Dungeons and thrones, which the same hour rc-filTd, As heretofore, because ambition was self-wuTd. LXXXI1I. But this will not endure, nor be endured! Mankind have felt their strength, and made it felt. Thcv might have used it better, but, allured By thi i, sternly have they dealt On one another ; pity ceased to molt With her once natural charities. But they, Who in oppression's darkness caved had dwelt, They were nut eagles, nourished with the What marvel then, at times, if thcv mi ii prey? LXXX1V. What deep wound i ed without a scar? The heart's bleed longest, and hut heal to wear That which disfigure s it j and they who war With theii o oi hope i L have boen vanquished, bear Silence, but n ion: in his lair Fbr*d I ' liis breath, until the hour Which shall atone for years; Hone need despair: It came, it cometh, and will come, — the power To punish or forgive — in one we shall be slower. I, XXXV. Clear, placid Leman! thy contrasted lake, With the wild world I dwelt in, is a tiling Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring. This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction ; once 1 loved Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft, murmuring Sounds sweet as if a sister's voico reproved, That I with stern delights should e'er have been so mo .-ed X^- t£ %/LSrf. "*■& ^ y <%S*\^' Camo III. CIIILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. as LXXXVI. It is the hush of night, and all between Thy margin and the mountains, dusk, yet clear, MeJIowM and mingling, yet distinctly seen, e darken'd Jura, whose capt heights appear Precipitously steep; and drawing near, There breathes a living fragrance from the shore, Of flowers yel fresh with childhood; on the ear Drops the light drip of the suspended oar, Or chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol more ; L\ XXVII. He is an evening reveller, who makes His tile an infancy, and sings his fill; At intervals, some bird from out the brakes Starts into voice a moment, then is still. There seems a floating whisper on the hill, But that is fancy, for the starlight dews All silently their tears of love instil, "Weeping themselves awav, till they infuse Deep into Nature's breast the spirit of her hues. LXXXVIII. Ye stnrs'. which are the poetry of heaven! If in your bright leaves we would read the fate Of men and empires, — 'tis to be forgiven, That in our aspirations to be great, Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state, And claim a kindred with you; for ye are A beauty and a mystery, and create In us such love and reverence from afar, [a star. That fortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves LXXXIX. All heaven and earth are still — though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most ; And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep : — All heaven and earth are still : From the high host Of stars, to the lull'd lake and mountain-coast, All is concenterM in a life intense, Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost, But hath a part of being;, and a sense Of that which is of all Creator and defence. Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt In solitude, where we are least alone; A truth, which through our being then doth melt And purifies from self: it is a tone, The soul and source of music, which makes known Eternal harmony, and sheds a charm, Like to the fabled Cvlherea's zone, Binding all tilings with beauty ;— 't would disarm The spectre Death, had he substantial power to harm. XCI. Not vainly did the early Persian make His altar the liigh places and the peak Of earth- o'er gazing mountains, 20 and thus take A fit and unwalfd temple, there to seek Spirit, in whose honour shrines are weak, TJprear 1 d of human hands. Come, and compare Columns and idol-dwellings, Goth or Greek, With Nature's realms of worship, earth and air, Nor fix on fond abodes to circumscribe thy pray'r ! xcn. The sky is changed ! — and such a change '. Oh night, 21 And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman ! Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder ! Not from one lone cloud, But every mountain now hath found a tongue, And Jura answers, through her misty shroud, BocJt to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud! D And this is in the night: — Most glorious night! Thou wert not sent for slumber! let me bo A sharer in thy fierce and far delight, — A portion of the tempest and of thee ! How the lit lake shines, a phosphoric sea, And the big rain comes dancing to the earth ! And now again 'tis black, — and now, the glee Of the loud hills shakes with its mount am- mirth, As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's birux XCIV. Now, where the swift Rhone cleaves his way between Heights which appear as lovers who have parted In hate, whose mining depths so intervene, That they can meet no more, though broken-hearted! Tho' in their souls, which thus each other thwarted, Love was the very root of the fond rage Which blighted their life's bloom, and then departed: Itself expired, but leaving them an age Of years all winters, — war within themselves to wage. Now, where the quick Rhone thus hath cleft his way The mightiest of the storms hath ta'en his stand * For here, not one, but many, make their play, And fling their thunder-bolts from hand to hand, Flashing and cast around : of all the band, The brightest through these parted hills hath fork'd His lightnings, — as if he did understand, That in such gaps as desolation work'd, There the hot shaft should blast whatever therein lurk'd. Sky, mountains, river, winds, lake, lightnings ! ye . Witt night, and clouds, and thunder, and a soul To fnake these felt and feeling, well may be Things that have made me watchful ; the far roll Of your departing voices, is the knoll Of what in me is sleepless, — if I rest. But where of ye, oh tempests ! is the goal ? Are ye like those within the human breast ? • -Q£do ye find, at length, Like eagles, some high nest ' . xcvn. Could I embody and unbosom now That which is most within me,— could I wreak My thoughts upon expression, and thus throw Soul, heart, mind, passions, feelings, strong or weak, All that I would have sought, and all I seek, Bear, know, feel, and yet breathe — into one word, And that one word were Lightning, I would speak, But as it is, I five and die unheard, With a most voiceless thought, sheathing it as a sword. XCVIII. The mom is up again, the dewy morn, With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom, Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn, And living as if earth contain'd no tomb, — And glowing into day : we may resume The march of our existence : and thus I, Still on thy shores, fair Leman ! may find room And food for meditation, nor pass by Much, that may give us pause, if ponder'd fittingly. XCIX. Clarens! sweet Clarens, birth-place of deep Love Thine air is the young breath of passionate thought ; Thy trees take root in Love ; the snows above The very Glaciers have his colours caught, And sunset into rose hues sees them wrought M By rays which sleep there lovingly : the rocks, The permanent crags, tell here of Love, who sought In them a refuge from the worldly shocks, [mocks. Which stir and sting the soul with hope that woos, then 26 CIIILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. Casto III. Clarens! by heavenly feet thy paths are trod, — I Hi', in.: Love's, who here ascends a throne To which the steps are mountains; where the god Is a pervading life and light, — so shown Not "ii those summits solely, nor alone In the still cave and forest; o'er the llower His eye is sparkling and his breath hath blown, His soft and summer breath, whose tender power Passes the strength of storms in their most desolate hour. ci. AH things are here of mm; from the black pines, Which are lus shade on high, and the loud roar Of torrents, where he listeneth, to the vines Which slope his green path downward to the shore, Where the bow'd waters meet him, and adore, Kissing his feet with murmurs; and the wood, The covert of old trees, with trunks all hoar, But light leaves, young xs joy, stands where it stood, Offering to him, and his, a populous solitude, en. A populous solitude of bees and birds, And fairy-form' d and many-colour'd things, Who worship him with notes more sweet than words, And innocently open their glad wings, Fearless and full of life: the gush of springs, And fall of lofty fountains, and the bend Of stirring branches, and the bud which brings The swiftest thought of beauty, here extend, Mingling, and made by Love, unto one mighty end. CHI, He who liatb loved not, here would learn that lore, And makd tiis heart a spirit ; he who knows Tiiat tender mystery, will love the more, For this is Love's recess, where vain men's woes, And the world 's waste, have driven him far from those, For 'tis his nature to advance or die ; He stands not still, but or decays, or grows Into a boundless blessing which may vie With the immortal lights, in its eternity ! civ. 'Twas not for fiction chose Rousseau this spot, Peopling it with affections; but he found It was the scene which passion must allot To the mind's purified beings; 'twas the ground Where early Love his Psyche's zone unbound, And hallo wM it with loveliness: 'tis lone, And wonderful, and deep, and hath a sound, And sense, and sight of sweetness; here the Rhone Hath spread himself a couch, the Alps have rcar'd a throne. cv. Lausanne! and Ferney! ye have been the abodes 23 Of names which unto vou bequcath'd a name; Mortals, who sought and found, by dangerous roads, A path to perpetuity of fame; They were gigantic minds, and their steep aim Was, Titan-like, on daring doubts to pile [flame Thoughts which should call down thunder] and the < if I leiivi'ti, again assail'd, if Heaven the while On man ami man's research could deign do more than smile. CVI. The one was fire and fickleness, a child, Most mutable in wishes, but in mind, A wit as various, — gay, grave, sage, or wild, — Historian, bard, philosopher, combined ; He multiplied himself among mankind, The Proteus of their talents: Hut his own Breathed most in ridicule, — which, as the wind, Blew whero it listed, laying all things prone, — Now to o'eruVow a fool, and now to shake a throne. The othi ■■■! slow, exhaustkig thought, And hiving wisdom with ndi studious yir. In meditation dwelt, with learning wrought^ And shaped Ins weaj evere, ins a solemn i The lord of irony, — that master-spell, Which stung his foes to wrath, which grew from ftar And doom*d him to the sealotta ready Hell, \\ im ii answers to all doubts so eloquently well. c vra. Yet, peace be with their ashes, — for by them, If merited, the pi oalty is | It is not ours to judge, — far less condemn; The hour musl come when such things shall be made Known unto all, — or hope and dread allay'd By slun -in the dust, \\ hi ttj thus much we are sure, must lie decayMj And when it shall rei our trust, 'Twill he to be forgiven, or suffer what is just. cix. But let me quit man's works, again to read His Maker's, spread around me, and suspend . This page, which from mj reveries I feed, Until it seems prolonging without end. The clouds above me to the white Alps tend, And I must pierce them, and survey what e'er May be permitted, as my steps I bend To their most great and growing region, where The earth to her embrace compels the powers of air- ex. Italia! too, Italia! looking on thee, Full flashes on the soul the light of ages, Since the in ire Carthaginian almost won thee, To the last halo of the chiefs and sages, Who glorify thy coi Thou wert the thn.ne and grave of empires; still, The fount at which the panting mind assuages Her thirst of knowledge, quaffing there her fill, Flows from the eternal source of Rome's imperial hilL CXI. Thus far have I proceeded in a theme ReneVd with no kind auspices: — to feel ire not what we have been, and to deem We arc not what we should be, — audio steel The heart against itself; and to 'unreal, With a proud caution, love, or hate, or aught,-* Passion or feeling, purpose, grief, or zeal, — Which is the tyrant spirt: of OUT thought, Is a stern task of soul: — No matter, — it is taught. And for these words, l litis; woven into * It may be thai they are a harmless wile, — 'Ilie colouring of the seem a which fleet along, W bich I would ■ .■!/. , in |,a -mi', fu beguile My breast, 01 thai ol otht rs, for a while. Fame is the durst of youth, — but 1 am not So young as to regard men's frown or smile, As loss or gui rdon of a : lorious lot; I stood and stand alone, — remembered or forgot. CZZII. I have not loved the world, nor the world me ; I have not flatter'd its rank breath, nor bow'd To its idolatries a patient knee, — Nor coin'd my cheek to smiles, — nor cried aloud In worship of an echo; in the crowd They could not deem me one of such; I stood Among them, but not of them; in a shroud [coidd Of thoughts which were not their thoughts, and still Had I not fded 24 my mind, which thus itsolf subdued. Canto IV. CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. 27 cxiv. [ have not loved the world, nor the world me, — But let us part fair foes ; I do believe Though I have found them not, thai there may be Words which art- things, — hopes which will not deceive, And virtues which are merciful, nor weave Snares I >r the failing: I would also deem O'er otl i i ■■' :mi :'. thai some sincerely grieve; 85 That two, or one, arc almost what they seem, — That goodness is no name, and happiness no dream. cxv. My daughter! with thy name this song begun — My daughter! with thy name thus much shall end — 1 see thee not, — I hear thee not, — but none Can be so wrapt in thee ; thou art the friend To whom the shadows of far years extend: Albeit my brow thou never should'sl 1>< hold, My voice shall with thy future visions blend, Ajid reach into thy hear:, — when mine is cold, — A token and a tone, even from thy father's mould. CXVI. To aid thy mind's development, — to watch Thy dawn of little joys, — to sit and see Almost thy very growth, — to view thee catch Knowledge of objects, — wonders yet to thee! To hold thee lightly on a gentle knee, And print on thy soft cheek a parent's Kiss, — This, it should seem, was not reserved for me; Yet this was in my nature : — as it is, I know not what is there, yet something like to this. CXVII. Yet, though tail hate as duty should be taught, I know that thou wilt love me ; though my name Should be shut from thee, as a spell still fraught With desolation, — and a broken claim: Though the grave closed between us, 'twere the same — I know that thou wilt love ine ; though to drain My blood from out thy being, were an aim, And an attainment, — all would be in vain, — Still thou would'st love me, still that more than life retain, cxvin. The child of love, — though born in bitterness, And nurtured in convulsion. Of thy sire These were the elements, — and thine no less. As yet such are around thee, — but thy fire Shall be more tempered, and thy hope far higher. Sweol I"- thy cradled slumbers! O'er the sea, And from the mountains where I now respire, Fain would I wafl such blessing upon thee, As, with a sigh, I deem thou might'st have been to me ! CANTO IV. Vltto in To* mi Lorn lardia Roratgoa, Q,uel Monte i he divide, e q»el the *erre, lulu, e uii mare e V akin, ■ he 1 1 bo) m Arioslo, S.i lira iii. Venice, January 2, 1813. . TO JOHN HOBHOUSE, ESQ. A.M. F.R.S. 4*r„ fyc. $*C. MV PF \R HOBHOUSE, Afteb an interval of eight years between the composition of the first and last cantos of Childe Harold, the conclusion of the poem is about to be submitted to the public. In parting with so old a friend it is not ex- traordinary that I should recur to one still older and better, — to one who has beheld the birth and death of the other, and to whom I am far more indebted for the social advantages of an enlightened friendship, than — though noi ungrateful — 1 can, or could be, to Childe Harold) for any public favour reflected through the poem on the poet, — to one, whom I have known long, and accompanied far, whom 1 have found wakeful over my Hrckne&Sjand kind in my sorrow, glad in my prosperity, and firm in my adversity, true in counsel, and trusty in peril — to a friend often tried and never found wanting ; — to yourself. In so doing, I recur from fiction to truth, and in dedicating to you in its complete, or at least concluded state, a poetical work which is the longest, the most thoughtful and comprehensive of my compositions, I wish to do honour to myself by the record of many years' intimacy with a man of learning, of talent, of steadiness, and of honour. It is not for minds like ours to give or to receive flattery ; yet the praises of sincerity have ever been permitted to the voice of friendship ; and it is not for you, nor even for others, but to relieve a heart which has not elsewhere, or lately, been so much accustomed to the encounter of good-will as to with- stand the shock firmly, that I thus attempt to comme- morate your good qualities, or rather the advantages which I have derived from their exertion. Even the recurrence of the date of this letter, the anniversary of the most unfortunate day of my past existence, but which cannot poison my future, while I retain the re- source of your friendship, and of my own faculties, will henceforth have a more agreeable recollection for both, inasmuch as it will remind us of this my attempt to thank you for an indefatigable regard, such as few men have experienced, and no one could experience, without thinking better of his species and of himself. It has been our fortune to traverse together, at various periods, the countries of chivalry, history, and fable — Spain, Greece, Asia Minor, and Italy: and what Athens and Constantinople were to us a few years ago, Venice and Rome have been more recently. The poem also, or the pilgrim, or both, have accompanied me from first to last; and perhaps it may be a pardonable vanity which induces me to reflect with complacency on a composition which in some degree connects me with \e spot where it was produced, and the object, it would fain describe; and however unworthy it maybe deemed of those magical and memorable abodes, however short it may fall of our distant conceptions and immediate im- pressions, yet as a mark of respect for what is venerable, and of feeling for what is glorious, it has'been to me a source of pleasure in the production, and I part with it with a kind of regret, which I hardly suspected that events could have left me for imaginary objects. With regard to -the conduct of the last canto, there will be found less of the pilgrim than in any of the pre- cei litis, and that little slightly, if at all, separated from the author speaking in his own person. The fact is, that I had become weary of drawing a line which every one seemed determined not to perceive: like the Chinese in Goldsmith's "Citizen of the World," whom nobody would believe to be a Chinese, it was in vain that I as- serted, and imagined that I had drawn, a distinction be- tween the author and the pilgrim ; and the very anxiety to preserve this difference, and disappointment at finding it unavailing, so far crushed my efforts in the composi- tion, thai 1 determined to abandon it altogether — and have done so. The opinions which have been, or may be, formed on that subject, are now a matter of indiffer- ence ; the work is to depend on itselij and not on the writer ; and the author, who has no resources in his own mind beyond the reputation, transient or permanent, which is to arise from his literary efforts, deserves the fate of authors. In the course of the following canto it was my inten- tion, either in the text or in the notes, to have touched upon the present state of Italian literature, and perhaps of manners. But the text, within the limits I proposed; I soon found hardly sufficient for the labyrinth of external objects and the consequent reflections; and for J.he whole of the notes, excepting a few of the shortest, I am indebted to vourself, and these were necessarily limited to the eluci iation of the text. It is alsc a cejeate, and no very grateful task, to dis- sert upon tl « -3*,?ature and manners of a nation so dis- 28 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. Canto IV. similar; and requires an attention and impartiality which would induce us, — though perhaps no inattentive observers, nor ignorant of the language or customs of ihe people amongst whom we have recently abode, — to distrust, or at least defer our judgment, and more nar- rowly examine our information. The state of lit- ran, as well as political party, appears to run, or to have run, so high, that for a stranger to steer impartially between them is next to impossible. It tnav be enough then, at least for my purpose, to quote from their own beautiful language — "Mi pare che in un paese tutto poetico, chc vanta la lingua la piu nobile ed insiemc la piu dolce, tutte tutte la vie diverse si pnssnno tentare, e che sinchc la patria di Allien e di Monti non ha perduto I' antico valore, in tutte essa dovrebbe essere la prima.' 1 Ita! y has great names still — Canova, Monti, Ugo Foscolo, Pindemontc, Visconti, MoreDi, I 'icognara, Albrizzi, Mezzopbanti, Mai, Mustoxidi, Aglietti, and Vacca,will secure to the present generation an honourable place in most of the departments of Art, Science, and Belles Lettrcs ; and in some the very highest ; — Europe — the World — has but one Caimva. It has been somewhere said by Alfieri, that "La pianta uomo nasce piu robusta in Italia che m qua* Unique altra terra — e che gli s'.essi atroci dclitti che vi si commcttono ne sono una prova." Without subscrib- ing to the latter part of his proposition, a dangerous doctrine, the truth of which may be disputed on better grounds, namely, that the Italians are in no respect more ferocious than their neighbours, that man must be wil- fully blind, or ignorantly heedless, who is not struck with the extraordinary capacity of this people, or, if such a word be admissible, their capabilities the facility of their acquisitions, the rapidity of their conceptions, the fire of their genius, their sense <>{ I, canty, and amidst all the disadvantages of repeated revolutions] the desolation of battles and the despair of ages, their BtiU unquenched "longing after immortality," — the immortality of inde- pendence. And when we ourselves, in ruling round the walls of Rome, heard the simple lament of the labourers 1 chorus, "Roma! Roma! Roma! Roma non c. piu come era prima," it was ditRcult not to contrast tins melan- choly dirge with the bacchanal roar of the songs of ex- ultation still yelled from the London taverns, over the carnage of Mont St. Jean, and the betrayal of Genoa, of Italy, of Fiance, and of the world, by men whose con duct you yourself have exposed in a work worthy of the better days of our history. For me, "Non movero mai crmla Ove tn I111I1.1 di sue ciance assonlu." What rtaly has gained by the late transfer of nations, it were useless for Englishmen to inquire, till it becomes ascertained that England has acquired something more than a permanent army and a suspended Habeas Cor- pus; it is enough for them to look at home. For what thev have done abroad, ami especially in the South, u Verily they will heme their reward," and at no very dis- tant period. Wishing you, mv dear Hobhouse, a safe and agree able return to that country whose real welfare can be dearer to none than to yourself) I dedicate to you this poem in its completed state ; and repeat once more how truly 1 ant ever Your obliged and affectionate friend, BYRON. I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of sighs ;* A palace and a prison on each hand: I saw from out the wave her structures rise As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand: A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around me, and a dying glory smiles O'er the far times, when many a subject land Look'd to tlie winged Lion's marble piles, Where Venice sate w state, throned on her hundred '•!»» She looks a sea-Cybele, fresh from ocean, 1 Rising with her tiara of proud towers At airy distance, with majestic motion, A ruler of the waters and their powers And such she was; — her daughters had their dowers From spoils of nations, and the exhwstlees East Pour'd in her lap all gems in sparkling showers. In purple was she robed, and of her feast Monarch* partook, and deem'd their dignity increased. Tn Venire Tasso's echoes are no more, 5 An I silent rows the songless gondolier; Her palaces are crumbling to the shores And music meets not always now the ear: Those days are gone — but beauty still is here. States mil, airs fid. — but Nature doth not die: Nor vet forget how Venice once was dear, The pleasant place of all festivity, The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy. But unto us she hath a spell beyond Hetiiame in story, and her long array Of mighty shadows, whose dim forms despond Above the dogelcss city's vanished sway ; Ours is a trophy which will not decay With the Rialto ; Shylock and the Moor, And Pierre, cannot be swept or worn away — The keystones of the arch ! though all were o'er. For us repeopled were the solitary shore. The beings of the mind are not of clay ; Essentially immortal, they create And mulnplv in us a brighter ray And more beloved existence : that which late Prohibits to dull life, m tins our state Of mortal bondage, by these spirits supplied First exiles, then replaces what we hate; Watering the heart whose early flowers have died And with a fresher growth replenishing the void. Such is the refuge of our youth and age, The first from Hope, the last from Vacancy; And this worn feeling peoples many a page, And, mav be, that which grows beneath mine eye, Yet there are things whose strong reality Outshines our fairy-land ; in shape and hues More beautiful than our fantastic sky, And the strange constellations which the Muse O'er her wild universe is skilfid to diffuse : I saw or drcam'd of such, — but let them go — Thev came like truth, and disappear^] like dreams And whatsoe'er they were — are now but so: I could replace them if I would; still teems Mv mind with many a form which aptly seems Such as I sought for, and at moments found; Let these too go — for waiting reason deems Such overweening phantasies unsound, And other voices speak, and other sights surround. IVc taught me other tongues — and in strange eyea Have made me not a stranger; to the mind Which is itself, no changes bring surprise; Nor is it harsh to make, nor hard to find A country with — ay, or without mankind ; Vet was I born where men are proud to be, Not without cause ; and should 1 leave behind The inviolate island of tlie sage and free, And seek me out a home by a remoter sea, }iKTO IV. CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE 29 Perhaps I loved i; well : and should I lay Mv ashes in a soil which is not mine, My spirit shall resume it — if we may lied choose a sanctuary. I twine My hopes of be in f rememher'd in my line With my Ian e: if too fond and far These aspirations in their scope incline, — 1 1" my fame should be. as my fortunes are, Of hasty growth and blight, and dull Oblivion bar x. My name from out the temple where the dead Are honoured by the nations — let it be — And light the laurel.; on a loftier head ! Ami be the Spartan's epitaph on me — * Sparta hath many a worthier son than he. 8 * Meantime I seek no sympathies, nor need; The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree I planted, — they have torn me, — and I bleed : I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed. XT. The spouseless Adriatic mourns her lord ; And, annual marriage now no more renew'd, The Bucentaur lies rotting unrestored, Neglected garment of her widowhood ! St. Mark yet ^ees his lion where he stood 5 Stand, but in mockery of his wither'd power, Over the proud Place where an Emperor sued, And monarchs gazed and envied in the hour Wlun Venice was a queen with an unequall'd dower. XII. The Suabian sued, and now the Austrian reigns — 6 An Emperor tramples where an Emperor knelt ; Kingdoms are shrunk to provinces, and chains Clank over sceptred cities; nations melt From power's high pinnacle, when they have felt The sunshine for a while, and downward go Like tauwine loosen 1 *] from the mountain's belt; Oh for one hour of bUnd old Dandolo ! ' Th' octogenarian chief, Byzantium's conquering foe. XIII. Before St. Mark still glow his steeds of brass, Tiieir gilded collars glittering in the sun; But is not Doria's menace come to pass? 8 Are they not bridled/ — Venice, lost and won, Her thirteen hundred years of freedom done ike a sM-nt'i'd, into whence she rose ! Better be whelnVd beneath the waves, and shun, Even in destruction's depth, her foreign foes, From whom submission wrings an infamous repose. x:v. In youth she was all glory, — a new Tyre, — Her very by-word sprung from victory, The "Planter of the Lion," 9 which through fire And blood she bore o'er subject earth and sea ; Though making many slaves, herself still free, And Europe's bulwark 'gainst the Ottomite; Witness Troy^a rival, Candia! Vouch it, ye Immortal waves that saw Lepanto's fight 1 For yc are names no time nor tyranny can blight. XT. Statues of glass — all sliiver'd — the long file Of her dead Doges are declined to dust ; But where they dwelt, the vast and sumptuous pile Bespeaks the pageant of their splendid trust ; Their sceptre broken, and their sword in rust, Have yielded to the stranger : empty halls, Thin streets, and foreign aspects, such as must Too oft remind her who and what enthrals, 10 Have flung a desolate cloud o'er Venice' lovely walls. When Athens' armies fell at Svracuse, An ! fettered thousands bore the yoke of war, Redemption rose up in the Attic Muse, 11 Her voice their only ransom from afar: See ! as they chant the tragic hvmn, the car Of the o'ermaster'd victor stops, the reins Fall from his hands — his idle scimitar Starts from its belt — he rends his captive's chains, And bids him thank the bard for freedom and his strains. Thus, Venice, if no stronger claim were thine, Were all thy proud historic deeds forgot, Thy choral memory of the Bard divine, Thy love of Tasso, should have cut the knot Which ties thee to thy tyrants ; and thy lot Is shameful to the nations, — most of all, Albion! to thee: the Ocean queen should not Abandon Ocean's children ; in the fall Of Venice tliink of thine, despite thy watery wall. XVIII. I loved her from my boyhood — she to me Was as a fairy city of the heart, Rising like water-columns from the sea, Of joy the sojourn, and of wealth the mart; And Otway, Radclitfe, Schiller, Shakspeare's art, 11 Had stamp'd her image in me, and even so, Although I found her thus, we did not part, Perchance even dearer in her day of wo, Than when she was a boast, a marvel, and a show XIX. I can repeople with the past — and of The present there is still for eye and thought, And meditation chasten'd down, enough ; And more, it may be, than I hoped or sought ; And of the happiest moments which were wrought Within the web of my existence, some From thee, fair Venice! have their colours caught: There are some feelings Time cannot benumb, Nor Torture shake, or mine would now be cold and dumb. xx. But from their nature will the tanncn grow Ia Loftiest on loftiest and least shelterM rocks, Rooted in barrenness, where nought below i if i! supports them 'gainst the Alpine shocks Of eddying storms; yet springs the trunk, and mocks The howling tempest, till its height and frame Are worthy of the mountains from whose blocks Of bleak, gray granite into life it came, And grew a giant tree ; — the mind may grow the same, XXI. Existence may be borne, and the deep root Of life and sufferance make its firm abode In bare and desolated bosoms : mute The camel labours with the heaviest load, And the wolf dies in silence, — not bestow'd In vain should such example be ; if they, Things of ignoble or of savage mood, Endure and shrink not, we of nobler clay May temper it to bear, — it is but for a day. XXII. All sufTcrin? doth destroy, or is destroyed, Even bv the sufferer ; and, in each event, Ends:— Some, with hope replenish'd and rebuoy'd, Return to whence they came — with like intent, And weave their web again; some, bow'd and bent Wax gray and ghastly, withering ere their time, And perish with the reed on which they leant; Some seek devotion, toil, war, good or crime, According as their souls were form'd to sink or climb : 30 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. Canto IV. XXIII. But ever and anon of griefs subdued There comes a taken like a scorpion's sting Scarce seen, but with fresh bitterness imbued; Ami slight withal may be the things which bring Back on the heart the weight which it would fling Aside for ever: it may be a sound — A tone of music — summer's awe — or spring — A flower — the wind — the ocean — winch shall wound, Striking the electric chum wherewith we are darkly bound ; XXJV. And how and whv wc know not, nor can trace Home to its cloud this lightning of the mind, But feel the shock renew'd, nor can elFace The blight and blackening which it leaves behind, Which out of things familiar, undesign'd, When least we deem of such, calls U|j i The spectres whom no exorcism can bind, The cold — the changed — perchance the dead — anew, The mourn'd, the loved, the lost — loo many ! — yet how few! XXV. But my soul wanders ; I demand it back To meditate amongst decay, and stand A ruin amidst ruins ; there to track Fall'n states and buried greatness, o'er a land Which was the mightiest in its old command, And is the loveliest, and must ever be The master-mould of Nature's heavenly hand, Wherein were cast the heroic and the free, The beautiful, the brave — the lords of earth and sea, XXVI. The commonwealth of kinjrs, the men of Rome ! And even since, and now, fair Italy ! Thou art the garden of the world, the home Of all Art yields, and Nature can decree; Kven in thy desert^ what is like to thee? Thy very weeds arc beauiitlil, thv waste More rich than other climes' fertility ; Thy wreck a glory, and thy ruin graced With an immaculate charm which cannot be defaced. XXVII. The Moon is up, and yet it is not night — Sunset divides the sky with her — a sea Of glory streams along the Alpine height Of blue Friuli's mountains; Heaven is free From clouds, but of all colours seems to be Ivlehed to one vast Iris of the West, Wnei e the Day joins the past Eternity ; While, on the other hand, meek Dian's crest Floats through the azure air — an island of the blest ! XXVIII. A single star is at her side, and reigns With her o'er half the lovely heaven; but still 1 * Yon Bimny sea heaves brightly, and remains RolPd oYr the peal; of the far Rhsstbui hill, As Day and Night contending were, until Nature reclaim'd her order: — gently flows The deep-dyed Brenta, where their hoes instil The odorous purple of a new-born rose, [glows, Which streams upon her stream, and glassVi within it XXIX. Filfd with the face of heaven, which, from afar, Comes down upon tin- waters ; all Us hues, From the rich sunset to the rising star, Their magical variety diffuse: And now they change ; a paler shadow strews Its mantle o'er the mountains ; parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till— 'tis gone— and all is gray. There is a tomb in Arqua ; — rear'd in air, PillarM m their sarcophagus, repose The bones of Lauras lover: lure repair Many familiar with Ins well-sung woes, The pilgrims of his genius. He arose To raise a language, and his land reclaim Fr the dull yoke of her barbaric foes: Watering the tree which bears his lady's name 1 * With his melodious tears, he gave himself to fame. XXXI. They keep his dust in Arqua, where he died ; ! * The mountain-village where his latter days Went down the vale of years; and 'tis their pride An honest pride — and let it be their praise, To offer to the | e ssing sti His mansion and his sepulchre ; both plain And venerably simple, such as i A feeling more accordani with his strain Than if a pyramid fbrm'd his monumental fane. And the soft quiet hamlet where he dwelt Is one of that complexion which seems made For those who their mortality have felt, And sought a refuge from their hopes decayed In the deep umbrage of a green hill's shade, Which shows a distant prospect far away Of busy cities, now in vain displayed, For they can lure no further ; ami the ray Of a bright sun can make sufficient holiday, x \ x 1 1 r . Developing the mountains, leaves, and flowers, And sinning in the brawling brook, wherc-by, Clear as its current, glide the sauntering hours With a calm languor, which, though to the eye [dlesse it seem, hath its morality. If from society we Warn to live, 'Tie solitude should teach us how to die; It bath no flatter" rs; vanity can give No hollow aid; alone — man with his God must strive. Or, it may be, with demons, who impair 1T The strength of better thoughts, and seek their p<«? In melancholy bosoms, such as were OC moody texture from their earliest day, And loved to dwell in darkness and dismay, Deeming themselves predestined to a doom Which is nut of the pangs that pass away; Making the sun like blood, the earth a tomb, The tomb a hell, and hell itself a murkier gloom. XXXV. Ferrara ! in thy wide and grass-grown streets, Whose symmetry was do) i>t solitude, Then seems as 'twere a curse uporj the seats Of former sovereigns, and the antique brood Of Bate, which for many an age made good Its strength within thy walls, and was of yore Patron or ivrani, as the changing mood Of petty power impcll'd, of those who wore The wreath which Dante's brow alone had wom before And Tasso is their glory and their shame. Hark tO his strain! and then survey his cell! And see how dearly earn'd Torquato's fame, And where Alfonso bade his poet dwell: The miserable despot could not quell The insulted mind he sought to quench, and blend With the surrounding maniacs, in the hell W T here he had plunged it. Glory without end Scalter'd the clouds away — and on that name attend Canto IV. CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. 31 XXXVII. The tears and praises of all time; while thine Would rol in its oblivion — in the sink Of wonhless dust, which from thy boasted line Is shaken into nothing; but the link Thou formest in his fortunes bids us think Of thy poor malice, naming thee with scorn — Alfonso! how thy ducal pageants shrink From thee! if in another station born. Scarce fit to be the slave of him thou mad'st to mourn XXXVIII. Tfom ! fbrm'd to eat, and be despised, and die, Even as die beasts that perish, save that thou Hadst a more splendid trough and wider sly: He! with a glory round his furrow'd brow, Which emanated then, and dazzles now, In face of all his foes, the Cruscan quire, And Buileau, whose rash envy could allow 18 No strain which shamed his country's creaking lyre, That whetstone of the teeth— monotony in wire! XXXIX. Peace to Torquato's injured shade ! 'twas his In life and death to be the mark where Wrong AimVl with her poison'd arrows, but to miss. Oh, victor unsurpass'd in modern song! Kadi year brings forth its millions; but how long The tide of generations shall roll on, And not the whole combined and countless throng Compose a mind like thine? though all in one Condensed their scatter'd rays, they would not form a sun. XL. Great as thou art, yet parallel'd by those, Thy countrymen, before thee born to shine, The Bards of H^ll and Chivalry: first rose The Tuscan father's comedy divine; Then not unequal to the Florentine, The southern Scott, the minstrel who call'd forth A new creation with his magic line, And, like the Ariosto of the North, Sang ladye-love and war, romance and knightly worth. XLI. The lightning rent from Ariosto's bust 19 The iron crown of laurel's mimic' d leaves; Nor was the ominous element unjust, For the true laurel-wreath which Glory weaves 20 Is of the tree no bolt of thunder cleaves, And the false semblance but disgraced his brow ; Yet still, if fondly Superstition grieves, Know, that the lightning sanctifies below 21 What e'er it strikes; — yon head is doubly sacred now. XLII. Italia! oh Italia! thou who hast 22 The fatal gift of beauty, which became A funeral dower of present woes and past, On thy sweet brow is sorrow plough'd by shame, And annals graved in characters of flame. Oh God! that thou wert in thy nakedness I bss lovely or more powerful, and couldst claim Thy right, and awe the robbers back, who press To shed thy blood, and drink the tears of thy distress ; XLIII. Then might'st thou more appal ; or, less desired, Be homely and be peaceful, undeplored For thy destructive charms; then, still untired, Would not be seen the armed torrents pour'd Down the deep, Alps ; nor would the hostile horde Of many-nation'd spoilers from the Po Quaff blood and water ; nor the stranger's sword Be thy sad weapon of defence, and so, Victor or vanquish'd, thou the slave of friend or foe. XLIV. Wandering in youth, I traced the path of him, 33 The Roman friend of Rome's least-mortal mind, The friend of Tully: as my bark did skim The bright blue waters with a fanning wind, Came Megara before me, and behind jEgina lay, Piraeus on the right, And Corinth on the left; I lay reclined Along the prow, and saw all these unite In ruin, even as he had seen the desolate sight ; XLV. For Time hath not rebuilt them, but uprear'd Barbaric dwellings on their shatter'd site, Which only make more mourn'd and more endear d The few last rays of their far-scatter'd light, And the crushM relics of their vanish a" might The Roman saw these tombs in his own age, These sepulchres of cities, which excite Sad wonder, and his yet surviving page The moral Lesson bears, drawn from Mich pilgrimage. XLVI. That page is now before me, and on mine His country's ruin added to the mass Of perish'd slates he mourn'd in their decline, And I in desolation: all that was Of then destruction is ; and now, alas ! Rome — Rome imperial, bows her to 2ie storm, In the same dust and blackness, and we pass The skeleton of her Titanic form, 24 Wrecks of another world, whose ashes still are warm. XLVII. Yet, Italy! through every other land Thy wrongs should ring, and shall, from side to side Mother of Arts! as once of arms ; thy hand Was then our guardian, and is still our guide ; Parent of our Religion! whom the wide Nations have knelt to for the keys of heaven! Europe, repentant of her parricide, Shall yet redeem ihee, and, all backward driven, Roll the barbarian tide, and sue to be forgiven. XXVIII. But Arno wins us to the fair white walls, Where the Etrurian Athens claims and keeps A softer feeling for her fairy halls. Girt by her theatre of hills, she reaps Her corn, and wme, and oil, and Plenty leaps To laughing life, with her redundant horn. Along the banks where smiling Arno sweeps Was modern Luxury of Commerce born, And buried Learning rose, rcdeem'd to a new morn. XLIX. There, too, the Goddess loves in stone, and fills as The air around with beauty; we inhale The ambrosial aspect, which, beheld, instils Part of its immortality ; the veil Of heaven is half undrawn ; within the pale We stand, and in that form and face behold What mind can make, when Nature's self would fail ; And to the fond idolaters of old Envy the innate flash which such a soul could mould. L. We gaze and turn away, and know not where, Dazzled and drunk with beauty, till the heart Reels with its fulness; there — for ever there — Chain'd to the chariot of triumphal Art, We >tand as captives, and would not depart. Away ! — there need no words, nor terms precise, The paltry jargon of the marble mart, Where Pedantry gulls Folly — we have eyes: Blood — pulse — and breast, confirm the Dardan Shep- herd's prize. 32 CinLDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. Canto IV. Appear'dst thou not to Paris in this guise ? Or to more deeply blest Anchises? or, In all thy perfect goddess-ship, when lies Before thee thy own vanquish'd Lord of War? And gazing in thy i u e as toward a star, Laid on thy lap, his eyes to thee upturn, Feeding on thy aweel cheek! •"■ while thy lips are With lava kisses melting while they bum, Ehower'd on Ins eyelids, brow, and mouth, as from an urn! MI. Glowing, and circumfused in speechless love, Their full divinity inadequate That feeling t" express or I" improve, The gods become as m .rials, and man's fate Has moments like thoir brightest , but the weight Of earth recoils upon us; — let u go! We can recall such visions, and i I Prom what has been, or might b hich grow Into thy statue's form, and look like gods below. LUX. I leave to learned fingers, and wise hands, The artist and his ape, to leach and tell How well his connoisseurship understands The graceful bend, and the voluptuous swell: Let these describe the undescribable : I would not their vile breath should crisp the stream Wherein that image shall for ever dwell; The unruffled mirror of the loveliest dream That ever left the sky on the deep soul to beam. In Santa Croce's holy precincts lie 37 Ashes which make it holier, dust which is Even in itself an immortality, Though there were nothing save the past, and this, The particle of those sublimities Which have relapsed to chaos: — here repose Angelo's, Alliens bones, and his, 38 The starry Galileo, with bis woes; Here Macluavelli's earth relurn'd to whence it rose. 39 These are four minds, which, like the elements, Might furnish forth creation:— Italy ! [rents Time, which hath wrong'd theo with ten thousand Of thine imperial garment, shall deny, And hath denied, to every other sky, Spirits which soar from ruin : — thy decay Is still impregnate with divinity. Which gilds it with revivifying ray; Such as the great of yore, Canova is to-day. LVl. But where repose the all Etruscan thret — Dante, and Petrarch, ami, scarce less than diey, The Bard of Prose, creative .spirit! ho Of the Hundred Titles of love — where did thl Their bones, distinguish'd from our common clay In death as life? Are they resolved to dust, And have their country's marbles nought to say? Could not her quarries furnish forth one bust? Did they not to her breast their filial earth intrust? I- VI I. Ungrateful Florence ! Dante sleeps afar, 30 Like Scipio, buried by the upbraiding shore; 31 Thy factions, m their worse than civil war, Proscribed the bard whose name for evermore Their children's children would in vain adore With the remorse of ages ; and the crown 33 Which Petrarch's laureate brow supremely wore, Upon a far and foreign soil had frown, His lifc,his fame, his grave, though rifled — not thine own. LVIII. Boccaccio to his parent earth bequeatb'd " His dust, — and las it not her Great among, With many a sweet and solemn requiem breathed O'er him who fonn'd the Tuscan's siren tongue? That in" ic in i ong, The poetry of >i — oven his tomb rjptorn, must I "a bigot's wrong, No mon amidst the me ir dead find room, Nor claim a passing sigh, because it told for uiAom.' LIX. And Santa I " : ' Iheir mighty dust, Vet for this want more i I, as of yore The ('; horn of Bru u ' bust, Did but ol R tni i best Son remind her more : i I,. i ! on thy hoar. P . ■ ■ mpire! honourM sleeps The immortal exile;— Arqua, too, her store Of tuneful ' While Finn ii' lish'd dead and weeps. IX. What is her pyramid of precious stones? 34 Of porphyry, jasper, agate, and all hues ( If gi in ami marble, to encrusl the bones Of merchant-dukes? the momentary dews \\ hi !i, sparkling to the twilight stars, infuse Preshni reen turf that wraps the dead, Whose nami i ar lusoleums of the Muse, Arc gently prest with far more reverent tread Than ever pat ed the slab which paves the princely head. There be more things to greet the heart and eyes In Arno's dome of An- most princely shrine, Where Sculpture with her rainbow sister vies; There be more m trvi Is yet — but not for mine; For I have been accu tomVI itwine My thoughts with Naturo rather in the fields, Than Art in galleries : though a work divine Calls for mv spirit's homage, yet it yields Less than it feels, because the weapon winch it wields Is of another temper, and I roam By Thrasimene's lake, in the di G Fatal to Roman rashness, more at home, For there the Carthaginian's warlike wiles Come back before me, as Ins skill beguiles The host between the mountains and the shore, \\ hi re i 'ourage falls in her despairing files, And torrents, swoln to rivers with then Reek through the sultry plain, with legions * aiter'd o'er, LXIII- Like to a forest fell'd by mountain win Ami such the storm of battle on this day, And such the frenzy, whose convulsion blinds To all save carnage, that, Beneath the fray, An earthquake reel'd unheededly away!" None fell stern Nature rocking at his feel, A,,,! yawning I irth B [rave for those who lay Upon Iheir bucklers for a winding sheet; Such is the absorbing hate when warring nations meet! The Earth to them was as a rolling bark Which bore them to Eternity; they law The Ocean round, but had no time to mark The motions of thi ir vessi I; Nature^ law, In lie in suspended, reck'd not of the awo Which reigns when mountains tremble, and the birds Plunge in the clouds for refuge and withdraw From their down-toppling nests; and bellowing herds Stumbling o'er heaving plains, and man's dread hath no words. Canto IV. CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. 33 Far other scene is Thrasimene now ; Her lake a sheet of silver, and her plain Rent by no ravage save the gentle plough ; Her aged trees rise thick as once the slain Lay where there mots are ; but a brook hath la'en — A little rill of scanty stream and bed — A name of blood from that day's sanguine rain ; And Sanguinetto tells ye where the dead Made the earth wet, and tum'd the unwilling waters red. LXTI. But thou, Clitumnus ! in thy sweetest wave 3G Of the most living crystal that was e'er The haunt of river nymph, to gaze and lave Her limbs where nothing hid them, ihou dost rear Thy grassy banks whereon the milk-white steer Gra7.es ; the purest god of gentle wffters ! And most serene of aspect, and most clear ; Surely that stream was unprofaned by slaughters — A minor and a bath for Beauty's youngest daughters ! LSVII. And on thy happy shore a temple still, Of small and delicate proportion, keeps, Upon a mild declivity of hill, Its memory of thee; beneath it sweeps Thy current's calmness ; oft from out it leaps The finny darter with the glittering scales, Who dwells and revels in thy glassy deeps ; While, chance, some scalter'd water-hlly sails [tales. Down where the shallower wave still tells its bubbling Lxvnr. Pass not unblest the Genius of the place ! If through the air a zephyr more serene Win to the brow, 'tis his ; and if ye trace Along his margin a more eloquent green, If on the heart the freshness of the scene SprinWe its coolness, and from the dry dust Of weary life a moment lave it clean With Nature's baptism, — 'tis to him ye must m Pay orisons for this suspension of disgust. I.XIX. The roar of waters '. — from the headlong height Velino chaves the wave-worn precipice ; The fall of waters ! rapid as the light The Hashing mass foams shaking the abyss ; The hell of waters ! where they howl and hiss, And boil in endless torture ; while the sweat Of their great agony, wrung out from this Their Phlegethon, curls round the rocks of jet That gird the gulf around, in pitiless horror set, LXK. And mounts in spray the skies, and thence again Returns in an unceasing shower, which round, With its unemptied cloud of gentle rain, Is an eternal April to the ground, Making it all one emerald : — how profound The gulf! and how the giant element From rock to rock leaps with delirious bound, Crushing the cliffs, which, downward worn and rent With his fierce footsteps, yield in chasms a fearful vent To the broad column which rolls on, and shows M ire like the fountain of an infant sea Torn from the womb of mountains by the throes Of a new world, than only thus to be Parent of rivers, which flow gushingly With many windings, through the vale : — Look back! Lol where it comes like an eternity, As if to sweep down all things in its track, Charming the eye with dread, — a matchless cataract, r LXXII. Horribly beautiful ! but on (he verge, From side to side, beneath the glittering morn, An Iris sits, amidst the infernal surge, 3 * Like Hope upon a death-bed, and, unworn Its steady dyes, while all around is torn By the distracted waters, bears serene Its brilliant hues with all their beams unshorn : Resembling, 'mid the torture of the scene, Love watching Madness with unalterable mien. Once more upon the woody Apennine, The infant Alps, which — had I not before Gazed on their mightier parents, where the pine Sits on more shaggy summits, and where roar The thundering lauwine — might be worshipp'd more j 39 But I have seen the soaring Jungfrau rear Her never-trodden snow, and seen the hoar Glaciers of bleak Mount-Blanc both far and near, And in Chimari heard the thunder-hills of fear, LXXIV. Th' Acroceraunian mountains of old name; And on Parnassus seen the eagles fly Like spirits of the spot, as 'twere for fame, For still they sour'd unutterably high ; I 've look'd on Ida with a Trojan's eye ; Athos, Olympus, ./Etna, Atlas, made These hills seem things of lesser dignity, AM, save the lone Soracte's heights display'd Not now in snow, which asks the lyric Roman's aid LXXV. For our remembrance, and from out the plain Heaves like a long-swept wave about to break, And on the curl hangs pausing : not in vain May he, who will, his recollections rake And quote in classic raptures, and awake The hills with Latian echoes; I abhorr'd Too much, to conquer for the poet's sake, The drill'd dull lesson, forced down word by word 40 In my repugnant youth, with pleasure to record LXXVI, Aught that recalls the daily drug which tum'd My sickening memory ; and, though Time hath taught My mind to meditate what then it learn'd, Yet such the fix'd inveteracy wrought By the impatience of my early thought, That, with the freshness wearing out before My mind could relish what it might have sought^ If free to choose, I cannot now restore Its health ; but what it then detested, still abhor. LXXVII. Then farewell, Horace ; whom I hated so, Not for thy faults, but mine ; it is a curse To understand, not feel thy lyric flow, To comprehend, but never love thy verse, Although no deeper Moralist rehearse Our little life, nor Bard prescribe his art, Nor livelier Satirist the conscience pierce, Awakening without wounding the touch'd heart, Yet fare thee well — upon Soracte's ridge we part. LXXTUI. Oh Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and control In their shut breasts their potty misery* What are our woes and sufferance ? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones and temples, Ye ! Whose agonies are evils of a day— A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay. 34 CHTLDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. Canto IV, TheNiobe of nations! thert' she stands Childless and crownless, in her voiceless wo, An empty urn, within her wither'd hands, "Whose holy dust was scattered long ago; The Scipio's tomb contains no ashes now ;" The very sepulchres lie tenantless Of their heroic dwellers : dost thou flow, Old Tiber! through a marble wilderness? Rise, with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress. The Goth, the Christian, Time, War, Flood, and Fire, Have dealt upon the seven-hill'd city's pride ; She saw her glories star by star expire, And up the steep barbarian monarch's ride, Where the car climb'd the capitol ; far and wide Temple and tower went down, nor left a site : — Chaos of ruins ! who shall trace the Wild, O'er the dim fragments cast a lunar light. And say, " here was, or is," where all is doubly night ? The double night of a^es, and of her, Night's daughter, Ignorance, hath wrapt and map All round us>; we but feel our way to err : The ocean hath his chart, the stars their map, And Knowledge spreads them on her ample lap ; But Rome is as the desert, where we steer Stumbling o'er recollections ; now we clap Our hands, and cry " Eureka !" it is clear — When but some false mirage of ruin rises near. Lxxxn, Alas ! the lofty city . and alas ! The trebly hundred triumphs'. 4 - and the day When Brutus made the dagger's edge surpass The conqueror's sword in bearing fame away ! Alas, for Tully's voice, and Virgil's lay, And Livy's pictured page ! — but these shall bo Her resurrection ; all beside— decay. Alas, for Earth, for never shall we see 'f hat brightness in her eye she bore when Rome was free ! LXXX1II. Oh thou, whose chariot roll'd on Fortune's wheel,'' 3 Triumphant Sylla! Thou, who didst subdue Thy country's foes ere thou wouldst pause to feel The wrath of thy own wrongs, or reap the duo Of hoarded vengeance till thine eagles flew O'er prostrate Asia; — thou, who with thy frown Annihilated senates — Roman, too, With all thy vices, for thou didst lay down With an atoning smile a more than earthly crown — LXXXIV. The dictatorial wreath, — couldst thou divine To what would one day dwindle that which made Thee more than mortal ? and that so supine By aught than Romans Rome should thus be laid ? fcshe who was named Eternal, and array'd Her warriors but to conquer — she who veil'd Earth with her haughty shadow, and displayed, Until the o'er-canopied horizon fail'd, Her rushing wings — Oh ! she who was Almighty hail'd ! LXXXV. Sylla was first of victors ; but our own The sagest of usurpers, Cromwell ; he Too swept off senates while be hew'd the throne Down to a block — immortal rebel ! Sco What crimes it costs to be a moment free And famous through all ages ! but beneath His fate the moral lurks of destiny ; His day of double victory and death Beheld him win two realms, and, happier, yield his breath. LXXMI. The third of the same m rOWf course H id all but crown'd him, on the selfsame day Deposed him gently from his throne of force, And laid him with the earth's preceding clay. 41 And show'd ii"i Fortune thus how fume and sway And all we deem delightful, and consume Our souls to compass through each acduous way, Are in her eyes less happy than the tomb .' Were they but so in man'&jhow different were his doom. LXXXV] I. And thou, dread statue! yet exist in* 5 The austerest form of naked majesty, Thou who beheld'st, 'mid the assassins 1 din, At thy bathed base the bloody C&Sai lie, ; g his robe in d\ ing dignity, An offering to thine aliar from the queen Of gods and nun, great Nemesis ! did he die, And thou, too, pel ish Victors of countless kings, or puppets of a scene ? LXXXVMI. And thou, the thunder-stricken nurse of Home 46 She-wolf! whose iira/in-iiiii^'i il liu^s impart The milk of conqu> is1 V6l w ithin the dome Where, as a monument of antique art, Thou standest : — Mother of the mighty heart, Which the great founder suck'd from thy wild teat, Scorch'd by the Roman Jove's elherial dart, And thy limbs black with lightning — dosl thou yet Guard thine immortal cubs, nor thy foud charge forget? L XXXIX. Thou dost; — but all thv roster-babes are dead- Tin- men of iron; and the world hath n Cities from out their sepulchres : men bled In imitation of the things they fear*d, And fought and conquer'd, and the same course stecr'd, At apish distance ; but a> yel none have, Nor could, the same supremacy have mar'd, Savftoue vain man, who i- nor m the grave, But, vanquish'd by himself, to his own slaves a slave— xc. The fool of false dominion — and a kind Of bastard Caesar, following him of old With steps unequal; for the 1 Ionian's mind Was modell'd in a less terrestrial mould,'' 7 With passions fiercer] yel a judgrrjonl cold, And an immortal instinct which redeem'd The frailties of a hearl so soft, yet hold, Alcides with the distaff now heseem'd At Cleopatra's feet,— and now himself he beam'd, x I i . And came — and saw — and conquer'd ! But the man Who would have lamed down to flee, Like a train'd falcon, in the Gallic van, Which he, in sooth, long led to victory, With a dial' hear) which never seem'd to be A listener to itself, was strangely framed; With bul one weakest weakness — vanity, Coquettish m ambition — still he aim'd — At what ? can he avouch — or answer what he claim'd And would be all or nothing— nor could wait For the sure grave to level him; few years Had hVd him with the Coesars in Ins fate. On whom we tread : Kor thin the conqueror ream The arch of triumph ! and for this the tears And blood of earth Bow OD as they have flow'd, An universal deluge, which appear! Without an ark for wretched man's abode, And ebbs but to reflow! — Renew thy raiubuw^Godl Casto IV. CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRrMAGE. 35 What from this barren being do we reap? Our senses narrow, and our reason frail, 45 Life short, and truth a gem which loves the deep, And all things weigh'd in custom's falsest scale ; Opinion and omnipotence, — whose veil Mantles the earth with darkness, until right And wrong are accidents, and men grow pale Lest their own judgments should become too bright, Aud their free thoughts be crimes, and earth have too much light. XC1V. And thus they plod in sluggish misery, Rotting from sire to son, and age to age, Proud of their trampled nature, and sodie, Bequeathing their hereditary rage To the now race of inborn slaves, who wage War for their chains, and rather than be free, Bleed gladiator-like, and still engage Within the same arena where they see Their felio*\s fall before, like leaves of the same tree. CSV. I Speak not of men's creeds— 1 they rest between Man and his Maker — but of things allow'd, Averr'd and known, — and daily, hourly seen— The yoke that is upon us doubly bow'd, And the intent of tyranny avow'd, The edict of Earth's rulers, who are grown The apes of him who humbled once the proud, And shook them from their slumbers on the throne ; Too glorious, were this all his mighty arm had done. XCVl. Can tyrants but by tyrants conquer'd be, And Freedom find no champion and no child Such as Columbia saw arise when she Sprung forth a Pallas, arm'd and undefiled ? Or must such minds be nourished in the wild, Deep in the unpruned forest, 'midst the roar Of cataracts, where nursing Nature smiled On infant Washington ? Has Earth no more Such seeds within her breast^ or Europe no such shore ? XCVII. But France got drunk with blood to vomit crime, And fatal have her Saturnalia been To Freedom's cause, in every age and clime ; Because Lhe deadly days which we have seen, And vile Ambition, that built up between Man an 1 bis hopes an adamantine wall, And tie base pageant last upon the scene, Are crown the pretext tor the eternal thrall Which nips life's tree, and dooms man's worst — his second fail. xevm. Yet, Freedom! yet thy banner, torn, but flying, Screams like the thunder-storm against the wind ; Thy trumpet voice, though broken now and dying, The loudest still the tempest leaves behind ; Thy ire.' hath lost its blossoms, and the rind, Chopp'd by lhe axe, looks rough and little worth, But the sap lasts,— and still the seed we find Sown deep, even in the bosom of the North ; So shall a better spring iess bitter fruit bring forth XCIX. There is a stern round tower of other days, 49 Firm as a fortress, with its fence of stone, Such as an army's baffled strength delays, Standing with half its battlements alone, And with two thousand years of ivy grown, The garland of eternity, where wave The green leaves over alt by tim^ o'erthrown \ — What was this tower of strength? within its cave What treasure lay 60 tock'd, so hid ?— A woman's grave. But who was she, the lady of the dead, Tomb'd in a palace ? Was she chaste and fair? Worthy a king's — or more — a Roman's bed? What race of chiefs and heroes did she bear? What daughter of her beauties was the heir? How lived — how loved — how died she ? Was she nd So honoured — and conspicuously there, Where meaner relics must not dare to rot, Placed to coinmeuiorate a more than mortal lot ? ci. Was she as those who love their lords, or they Who love the lords of others ? such have been Even m the olden time, Rome's annals say. Was she a matron of Cornelia's mien, Or the light air of Egypt's graceful queen, Profuse of joy — or 'gainst it did she war, Inveterate in virtue ? Did she lean To the soft side of the heart, or wisely bar Love from amongst her griefs? — for such the affections are. CIL Perchance she died in youth : it mav be, bow'd With woes far heavier than the ponderous tomb That weigh'd upon her gentle dust, a cloud Might gather o'er her beauty, and a gloom In her dark eye, prophetic of the doom Heaven gives its favourites — early deadi ; yet shed 50 A sunset charm around her, and illume With hectic light, the Hesperus of the dead, Of her consuming cheek the autumnal leaf like red. cm. Perchance she died in age — surviving all, Charms, kindred, children — with the silver gray On her long tresses, which might yet recall, It may be, still a something of the day When they were braided, and her proud array And lovely form were envied, praised, and eyed By Rome But whither would Conjecture stray? Thus much alone we know — Metella died, The wealthiest Roman's wife ; behold his love or pride i civ. I know not why — but standing thus by thee I I seems as if I had thine inmate known, Thou tomb ! and other days come back on me Wnh recollected music, though the tone Is changed and solemn, like the cloudy groan Of dying thunder on the distant wind; Yet could I seat me by this ivied stone Till I had bodied forth the heated mind Forms from the flowing wreck which Ruin leaves behind ; cv. And from the planks, far shattered o'er the rocks, Built me a little bark of hope, once more To battle with the ocean and the shocks Of the loud breakers, and the ceaseless roar Which rushes on the solitary shore Where all ties founder'd that was ever dear: But could I gather from the wave-worn store Enough for my rude boat, where should I steer? There woos no home, nor hope, nor life, save what is here. cvi. Then let the winds howl on ! their harmony Shall henceforth be my music, and the night The sound shall temper with the owlets* cry, As I now hear them, in the fading light Dim o'er the bird of darkness' native site, Answering each other on the Palatine, With their large eyes, all glistening gray and bright, And sailing pinions.— Upon such a shrine What are our petty griefs? — let me not number mine. 36 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. Canto IV. Cypress and ivy, weed and wallflower grown Matted and mass'd together, hillocks heap'd On what were chambers, arch crush'd, column strown In fragments, choked up vaults, and frescos steep'd In subterranean damps where tin owl |ieepM, Deeming it midnight : — Temples, baths, or balls .' Pronounce who can ; for al! that Learning reap'd From her researcli hath been, that these are walls- — Behold the Imperial Mount ! 'lis thus the mighty falls. 51 cvrri. There is the moral of all human tales ; - 'Tis but the same rehearsal of the past, First Freedom, and then Glory — when that fails, Wealth, vice, corruption, — barbarism at last. Ami History, with all her volumes Past, Hath but one page, — 'tis better written here, Where gorgeous Tyranny had thus amass'd All treasures, all delights, that eye or ear, Heart, sou! could seek, tongue ask — Away with words! draw near, < IV. Admire, exult — despise — laueh, weep, — for here There is such matter for all feeling : — Man ! Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear, Ages and realms are crowded in this span, This mountain, whose obliterated plan The pyramid of empires pinnacled, Of Glory's gewgaws shining in the van Till the sun's ravs with added Same were till'd ! W hate are its golden toofs? where those who dared to build ? Tolly was not so eloquent as thou, Thou nameless column with the buried base "What are the laurels of the Cesar's brow .' Crown in'- with ivy from his dwelling-place. Whose arch er pillar meets me in the face, Titus or Trajans? No — 'lis that of Time: Triumph, arch, pillar, all he doth displace Scufling ; and apostolic statues climb To crush the imperial urn, whose ashes slept sublime, 5 -* CXI. Buried in air, the deep blue sky of Rome, And looking to the stars : they had contain'd A spirit which with these would find a home The last of those who o'er the whole earth reign'd, The Roman globe, fur after none sustained, Bat yielded back his conquests: — he was more Than a mere Alexander, and, unstain'd. With household bloud and u me, serenely wore His sovereign virtues — still we Trajan's name adore.^ 1 (Ml. Where is t!i<> rork of Triumph, the high place Where Kome embraced her heroes? where the steep Tarpeian ? fittest goal of Treason's race. The promontory whence the Traitor's Leap Cured all ambition. I nd the conquerors heap Their spoils here ? Yes ; and in yon field below, A thousand years of silenced factions sleep — The Forum, where the immortal accents glow, And si ill the eloquent air breathes*- burns with Cicero! C X 1 1 1 . The field of freedom, faction, fame, and blood : Here a proud people's passions were exhaled, From the first hour of empire in the bud To that when further worlds to conquer fail'd ; But long before had freedom's (ace been veil'd, And Anarchy assumed her attributes ; Till every lawless soldier who atsail'd Trod on the trembling senate's slavish mutes, Or raised the venal voice of baser prostitutes. Then turn we to her latest tribune's name, From her ten thousand tyrants turn to thee, Redeemer of dark centuries of shame — ch — hope of Italy — Rienzi ! last of Romans ! While the tree w lout's withered trunk puis forth a leaf, Ev< n fbi thy tomb a garland let it be — urn's champion, and (he people's chief— Her new-born Numa diou — with reign, alas! too brief. CXV. Eg) rial sweet creation of some heart 66 Which found no mortal resting-place so fair As thine ideal breast; whate'er thou art ' >r wert, — a young Aurora of the air, The oympholepsy of some fond despair; t >r, ir might be, a beauty of the earth, Who found a mort than common votary there Too much adoring ; whatsoe'er thy birth] Thou wert a beautiful thought, and softly bodied forth. The mosses of thy fountain still are sprinkled With thine Elysian water drops; the face Of thy cave-guarded spring, with years unwrinkled, Reflects the meek-eyed ger.ius of the place, V\ bose green, wild margin now no more erase Art's works ; nor must tin* delicate waters sleep, Prison'd in marble, bubbling from the base Of die cleft statue, with a gentle leap The rill runs o'er, and round, fern, flowers, and ivy, creep • Fantastically tangled ; the green hills Are clothed with early blossoms, through the grass The tjnick-eyed lizard rustles, and the bills Of summer-birds -my welcome as ye y \ Flowers fresh in hue, and many in their class Implore the pausing al p, and with their dyes I t.inre in the soft breeze in a fairy mass ; The sweetness of the violet's deep blue eyes, Kiss'd by the breath of heaven, seems colour'd by its skies. czTin. Here didst thou dwell, in this enchanted cover, Egeria! thy all heavenly bosom healing For the far footsteps of thy mortal lover ; The purple Midnight veild that mystic meeting With her most starry canopy, and seating Thyselfby thine adorer, what befi 11 ' This cave was surely shaped out for the greeting Of an enamoured Goddess, and the cell Haunted by holy Love — the earliest oracle! CXIX. And didsl thou not, thy breast to his replying, Blend a celestial h ith a human heart ; And Love, which dies as it was born, in sighing, Share with immortal transports ? could thine art IVIake them indeed immortal, and impart The purity ofheavep to earthly joys, Expel the venom and not blunt the dart — The dull satiety which all destroys — And rout from out the soul the deadly weed which cloys? cxz. Alas ! our young affections run to waste, t »r water but the desert ; whence arise Bui weeds of dark luxuriance, tares of haste, Rank at the core, though tempting to the i Flowers whits,- wild odours breathe but agonies, And trees whose gums are poison ; such the planti Which spring beneath her steps as Passion flies O'er the world's wilderness, and vainly pants For snnie celestial fruit forbidden to our wants. Caitto IV. CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. 37 Oh Love ! no habitant of earth thou art — An unseen seraph, we believe in thee, A faith whose martyrs are the broken heart, Bui never yet hath seen, nor e'er shall see The naked eye, thy form, as it should be ; The mind hath made thee, as it peopled heaven, Even with its own desiring phantasy, And to a thought such shape and image given, As haunts the unquench'd soul— parch 1 d — wearied — wrung — and riven. i\ \it. Of its own beauty is the mind diseased, And fevers into false creation : — where, Where are the forms the sculptor's soul hath seized ? In him alone. Can Nature show so fair ? Where are the charms and virtues which we dare Conceive in boyhood and pursue as men, The unreach'd Paradise of our despair, Which u'er-iuforms the pencil and the pen, 4nd overpowers the page where it would bloom again? CXXIII. Who loves, raves — 'tis youth's frenzy — but the cure Is bitterer still ; as charm by charm unwinds Which robed our idols, and we see too sure Nor worth nor beauty dwells from out the mind's [deal shape of such ; yet still it binds The fatal spell, and still it draws us on, Reaping theVhirlwind from the oft-sown winds j The stubborn heart, its alchemy begun, Peems ever near the prize — wealthiest when most undone. CXXIY. We wither from our youth, we gasp away — Sick — sick ; ruifound the boon — unslaked the thirst, Though to the last, in verge of our decay, Some phantom lures, such as we sought at first- Hut all too late, — so are we doubly curst. Love, fame, ambition, avarice — 'tis the same, Each idle — and all ill — and none the worst — For all are meteors with a different name, And Death the sable smoke where vanishes the Same. ex xv. Few — none — find what they love or could have loved, Though accident, blind contact, and the strong Necessity of loving, have removed Antipathies — but to recur, ere long, EnvenomM with irrevocable wrung; And Circumstance, that unspiritual god And miscreator, makes and helps along Our coming evils with a crutch-like rod, [trod. Whose touch turns Hope to dust, — the dust we all have exxvr. Our life is a false nature — 'tis not in The harmony of things, — this hard decree, This uneradicable taint of sin, This boundless upas, this all-blasting tree, Whose root is earth, whose leaves and branches be The skies which rain their plagues on men like dew — Disease, death, bondage — all the woes we see— And worse, the woes we see not — which throb through The immedicable soul, with heart-aches ever new. CXXVIf. Yet let us ponder boldly — 'tis a base 6? Abandonment of reason to resign Our right of thought — our lasr and only place Of refuge; this, at least, shall still be mine : Though from our birth the faculty divine Is chain'd and tortured — cabin'd, cribb'd, confined, And bred in darkness, lest the truth should shine Too brightly on the unprepared mind, The beam pours in, for time and skill will couch tho blind. Arches on arches ! as it were that Rome, Collecting the chief trophies of her line, Would build up all her triumphs in one dome, Her Coliseum stands ; the moonbeams shine As 'twere its natural torches, for divine Should be the light which streams here, to illume This long-explored but still exhaustless mine Of contemplation ; and the azure gloom Of an Italian night, where the deep skies assume CXXIX. Hues which have words, and speak to ye of heaven, Floats o'er this vast and wondrous monument, And shadows forth its glory. There is given Unto the things of earth, which Time hath bent, A spirit's feeling, and where he hath leant His hand, but broke his scythe, there is a power And magic in the ruin'd battlement, For which the palace of the present hour Must yield its pomp, and wait till ages are its dower. exxx. Oh Time ! the beautifier of the dead, Adorner of the ruin, comforter And only healer when the heart bath bled— Time ! the corrector where our judgments err, The test of truth, love, — sole philosopher, For all beside are sophists, from thy thrift, Which never loses though it doth defer— Time, the avenger ! unto the I lift My handstand eyes, and heart, and crave of thee a gift : CXXXI. Amidst this wreck, where thou hast made a shrine And temple more divinely desolate, Among thy mightier offerings here are mine, Ruins of years — though few, yet full of fate :— If thou hast ever seen me too elate, Hear me not ; but if calmly I have borne Good, and reserved my pride against the hate Which shall not whelm me, let me not have worn This iron in my soul in vain — shall they not mourn? CXXXII. And thou, who never yet of human wrong Left the unbalanced scale, great Nemesis! M Here, where the ancient paid thee homage long— Thou who didst call the Furies from the abyss, And round Orestes bade them howl and hiss, For that unnatural retribution — just, Had it but been from hands less near — in this Thy former realm, I call thee from the dust ! Dost thou not hear my heart '/—Awake ! thou shalt, and must. CXXXIII. It i3 not that I may not have incurr'd For my ancestral faults or mine the wound I bleed withal, anil, had it been conferr'd With a just weapon, it had flow'd unbound ; But now my blood shall not sink in the ground; To thee I do devote it — thou shalt lake The vengeance, which shall yet be sought and found, Which if / have not taken for the sake But let that pass — I sleep, but thou shalt yet awake. CXXXIV. And if my voice break forth, 'tis not that now I shrink from what is sulTerM : let him speak Who hath beheld decline upon my brow, Or seen my mind's convulsion leave it weak; But in this page a record will I seek. Not in the air shall these my words disperse, Though I be ashes ; a far hour shall wreak The deep prophetic fulness of this vt-rse, And pile on human heads the mountain of my curse ! 38 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. Canto IV cxxxv. That curse shall be Forgiveness. — Have I not — Hear me, ray mother Earth ! behold it, Heaven ! — Have I not had to wrestle with my loj ' Have I not sufler'd things to be (brgiven ? Have I not had my brain soar'd, my heart riven, Hopes sapp'd, name blighted, Life's life tied away ? And only not to desperation driven, Because not altogether of such clay As rots into the souls of those whom I survi J . CXXXVI. From mighty wrongs to petty perfidy Have I not seen what human things could do? From the loud roar of foaming calumny To the small whisper of the as paltry few, And subtler venoin of the reptile crew, The Janus glance of whose significant « Learning to lie with silence, would srem true, And without utterance, save the shrug or ugh, Deal round to happy fools its speechless obloquy. exxxrxx. But I have lived, and have not lived in vain : My mind may lose its force, my blood its tire, And my frame perish even in conquering pain ; But there is that within me which shall tire Torture and Time, and breathe when I expire ; Something unearthly, which they deem not of, Like the remembered tone of a mute lyre, Shall on their soften'd spirits sink, and move In hearts all rocky now the late remorse of love. CXXZTHI, The seal is set. — Now welcome, thou dread power! Nameless, yet thus omnipotent, which here Walk's! in the shadow of the midnight hour With a deep awe, yet all distinct from fear J Thy haunts are ever where the dead walls rear Thwir ivy mantles, and the solemn scene Derives from thee a sense so deep and clear That we become a part of what has been, And grow unto the spot, all-seeing but unseen. (XXXIX. And here the buzz of eager nations ran, In murmurM pity, or loud-roar'd applause, As man was slaughter'd by his fellow man. And wherefore slaughter'd ? wherefore, but because Such were the bloody Circus' genial laws, And the imperial pleasure. — Wherefore not? What matters where we fall to fill the maws Of worms — on battle-plains or listed spot ? Both are but theatres where the chief actors rot. CXL. I see before me the Gladiator lie i 59 He leans upon his hand — bis manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his droop'd head sinks gradually low— And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, Like the first of a thunder-shower ; and now The arena swims around him — he is gone, Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hail'd the wretch who won. He heard it, but he heeded not — his eyes Were with his heart, and that was far away. He reck'd not of the life he lost nor prize, But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, There were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Dacian mother — he, their sire, Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday — m All this rush'd with his blood — Shall he expire And unavenged? — Arise ! yo Goths, and glut your iro ! CXLU. But here, where Murder breathed her bloody steam And lure, where buzzing nations choked the ■■■■ And roarM or murmurM like b mountain stream Dashing 01 winding as its torrent strays ; Hero, where the Roman million's blame or praise Was death or life, the playlhinj ofs crowd, 81 Mj voice sounds much — and fall the stars' faint rays On the arena void — seats crush'd — walls bow'd— And galleries, where my steps seem echoes strangely loud. CXLIII. A ruin — yt't what ruin ! from its mass Walls, palaces, half-cities, have been rcar'd ; Yet oft the enormous skeleton J c pass, And marvel where the spoil Could have appcar'd. Hath it indeed been plunder'd, or but clear'd ? Ala-- ! 'i' reloped, opens the decay, When the < olossal fabric's form is near'd: It will not bear the brightness of the day, [away. Which streams too much on all years, man, have reft CXLIV. But when the rising moon begins to climb Its topmost arch, and gently pauses there; When the stars twinkle through the loops of limo, And the low night-breeze waves along the air The garland-Sorest, which the gray walls wear, Like laurels on the bald first Caesar's head ;C'i When the light shines serene but dolh not glare, Then in this magic circle raise the doad : Heroes have trod this spot— 'tis on their dust ye tread. CXLV. " While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand ;° " When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall ; [land " And when Rome falls — the World."' From our own Thus spake ihc pilgrims o'er this mighty wall In Saxon limes, which we are wont to call Ancient ; and these three mortal things are still On their foundations, and unalter'd all; Koine and her Ruin past Redemption's skill, [will. The World, die same wide den — of thieves, or what ye CXLVI. Simple, erect, severe, austere, sublime — Shrine of all saints and temple of all gods, From Jove to Jesus — spared and blest by time ; r '* Looking tranquillity, while falls or nods Arch, empire, each thing round thee, and man plods His way through thorns to ashes— glorious dome ! Shalt thou not last ? Time's scythe and tyrants' rods Shiver upon thee — sanctuary and homo Of art and piety — Pantheon ! — pride of Rome '. CXLVII. Relic of nobler days, and nobles' Despoil'd yet perfect, with thy circle spreads A holiness appealing to all hearts — To art a model ; and to him who treads Rome for the sake of ages, Glorv Her light through thy sole aperture ; to those Who worship, here are attars fur their beads And they who feci lj)rrhriui..u of the term Nossn Senora tie Pena. Ii wns owing to the want of the tilde, or mark over tlic R, which niters (he signification of the won! : with it, Perm signifies a rock ; without il, Pena has the «tiso I uUojrttil. ) do not think il mccsmry to otter the |Kissn$e, as though ihe common acceptation affixed toil is " Our I,m|yoftlie Kock," I may wall uuume the other scow troiii Utc seventies practised there. The extent of Mafra is prodigious ; it contains a palace, convent, ami most superb church. The six organs are the most beautiful 1 ever beheld, in point of decoration ; we did not hear them, but were told that their tones were correspondent to their Bplendour Mafra is termed the Eseurial of Portugal 6. IV dl dotii the Spanish hind the difference know 'Tinxt him and Ijusuih stave, tfi£ lowest of the low. Stanza xxxiii. lines 8 and 9. As I found the Portuguese, so I have characterizeo them. That they are since improved, ai least in cou- rage, is evident. 7. When Cavil's traitor-sire first calVd the hand That dyed thy mountain streams with GoUixc gore. Stanza xxxv. lines 3 and 4. Count Julian's daughter, the Helen of Spain. Pela- gius preserved his independence in the fastnesses of the Asturias, and the descendants of his followers, after some centuries, completed their struggle by the con- quest of Grenada. 8. No ! as he speeds t he chants, " Vied el Rey /" Stanza xlviii. line 5. "Viva el Rey Fernando!" Long live King Ferdinand ! is the chorus of most of the Spanish patriotic they are chiefly in dispraise of the old king CI the Queen, and the Prince of Peace. I have heard many of them; some of the airs are beautiful. Godoy, the Principe dr la Pa?, was born at Badajoz, on the frontiers of Portugal, and was originally in the ranks of the Spanish Guards, till his person attracted the queen's eyes, and raised him lo the dukedom of Alctidia, &c. &c. It is to this man that the Spaniards univer- sally impute the ruin of their country, 9. Bears in his cap the badge of crimson hue, Which tells you whom to shun and whom to greet. Stanza I. lines 2 and 3. The red cockade, with " Fernando Scplimo" in the centre. 10. The bull-piled pyramid^ tlie ever-lduzing match. Stanza Ii. line last All who have seen a battery will recollect the pyra- midal form in which shot and shells are piled, 'rhu Sierra Moreno was fortified in every defile through which I passed in my way to Seville. 11. FoiCd hy a woman's hitn 7, hrforr a batta'd trail. Stanza Ivi. line last. Such were the exploits of the Maid of Saraeozo. When the author was at Seville she walked daily on the Prado, decorated with medals and orders, by com- mand of the Junta. 12. The seal Lotf* dimpling finger hath impressed Denotes how soft that chin which bears his touch. Stanza km. lines I and 2. 11 Sigilla in incnto impressa Anions digitulo Vestigiodcmonstrant molliuulinem." Aul. Gel. 13. OA, thou Parnassus ! Stanza Is. line 1. These stanzas were written in Castri, (Delphos,) at the foot of Parnassus, now called Atanvpa — Liakura. Canto II. NOTES TO CIIILDE HAROLD. 43 14. Fair is proud Seville; let lier country boast Her strength, her wealth, her site of ancient days. Stanza Ixv. lines 1 and 2. Seville was the Hispalis of the Romans. 15. Ask ye, Boeotian shades ! the reason why ? Sianza Ixx. line 5. This was written at Thebes, and consequently in the best situation for asking and answering such a question; not as the birthplace of Pindar, but as the capital of Bceotia, where the first riddle was propounded and solved. 16. Some bitter o'er tfxe Jlowcrs its Intbbling venom flings. Stanza lxxxii. line last. "Medio de fbnte leporum Surgit amari aliquid quod in ipsis flonbus angat." Lit. 17. A traitor only felt beneath the feud. Stanza Ixxxv. line 7. Alluding to the conduct and death of Solano, the Governor of Cadiz. 18. 11 War eve* to tiie knife !" Stanza lxxxvi. line last. 11 War to the knife." Palafox's answer to the French general at the siege of Saragoza. 19. And thou, my friend ! &c. Stanza xci. line 1. The Honourable I*. W* *. of the Guards, who died of a fever at Coimbra. I had known him ten years, ihe better half of his life, and the happiest part of mine. In the short space of one month I have lost her who fave me being, and most of those who had made that eing tolerable. To me the lines of Young are no fiction : " Insatiate archer ! could not one suffice ? Thy shaft flew thrice, and thrice my peace was slain, And thrice ere thrice yon moon had fill'd her horn." I should have ventured a verse to the memory of the late Charles Skinner Matthews, Fellow of Downing College, Cambridge, were he not too much above all praise of mine. His powers of mind, shown in the attainment of greater honours, against the ablest can- didates, than those of any graduate on record at Cam- bridge, have sufficiently established his fame on the spot where it was acquired : while his softer qualities live in the recollection of friends who loved him too well to envy his superiority. CANTO II. 1. despite of war and wanting fire — — Stanza i. line 4. Part of the Acropolis was destroyed by the explo- sion of a magazine during the Venetian siege. o But worse than steel and flamCj and ages slow, Is the drca/l sceptre and dominion dire Of men wlto never felt the sacred glow Tliat thoughts of thee and thine on potish'd breasts bestow Stanza i. line 6. We can all feel, or imagine, the regret with which the ruins of cities, once the capitals of empires, are beheld ; the reflections suggested by such objects are too trite to require recapitulation. But never did the littleness o( man, and the vanity of his very best virtues of patriotism to exalt, and of valour to defend his coun- what Athens was, and the certainty of what she now is. This theatre of contention between mighty factions, of the struggles of orators, the exaltation and deposi- tion of tyrants, the triumph and punishment of generals, is now become a scene of petty intrigue and perpetual disturbance, between the bickering agents of certain British nobility and gentry. " The wild foxes, the owls and serpents in the ruins of Babylon," were surely less degrading than such inhabitants. The Turks have the plea of conquest for their tyranny, and the Greeks have only suffered the fortune of war, incidental to the bravest ; but how are the mighty fallen, when two painters contest the privilege of plundering the Par- thenon, and triumph in turn, according to the tenor of each succeeding firman ! Sylla could but punish, Philip subdue, and Xerxes burn Athens ; but it re- mained for the paltry antiquarian, and his despicable agents, to render her contemptible as himself and his pursuits. The Parthenon, before its destruction in part, by fire, during the Venetian siege, had been a temple, a church, and a mosque. In each point of view it is an object of regard: it changed its worshippers; but still it was a place of worship thrice sacred to devotion : its viola- tion is a triple sacrilege. But " Man, vain man, Drest in a little brief authority, Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven As make the angels weep." 3. Far on the solitary shore he sleeps. Stanza v. line 2. It was not always the custom of the Greeks to burn their dead ; the greater Ajax, in particular, was interred entire. Almost all the chiefs became gods after their decease ; and he was indeed neglected, who had not annual games near his tomb, or festivals in honour of his memory by his countrymen, as Achilles, Brasidas, &c. and at last even Antinous, whose death was as he- roic as his life was infamous. 4. Here, son of Saturn ! was tlty favorite throne. Stanza x. fine 3. The temple of Jupiter Olympius, of which sixteen columns, entirely of marble, yet survive : originally there were 150. These columns, however, are by many supposed to belong to the Pantneon. 5. And bear these altars o^er the long-reluctant brine. Stanza xi. line last. The ship vras wrecked in the Archipelago. 6. To rive what Gotli, and Turk f and Time hath spared. Stanza xii. line 2. At this moment, (January S, 1809,) besides what has been already deposited in London, an Hydriot vessel is in the Pyrauis to receive every portable relic. Thus, as I heard a young Greek observe, in common with many of his countrymen — for, lost as they are, they yet feel on this occasion — thus may Lord Elgin hoast of having ruined Athens. An Italian painter of the first eminence, named Lusieri, is the agent of devasta- tion ; and like the Greek finder of Verres in Sicily, who followed the same profession, he has proved the able instrument of plunder. Between this artist and the French Consul Fauvel, who wishes to rescue the re- mains for his own government, there is now a violent dispute concerning a car employed in their conveyance, the wheel of winch — I wish they were both broken upon it — has been locked up bv the Consul, and Lusieri has laid his complaint before the Wavwode. Lord Elgin has deen extremely happy in his choice of Signor Lusieri. During a residence of ten years in Athens, he never had the curiosity to proceed as far as Sunium,* * Now Cnpe Colon na. Marathon, there i In nil Allien, if we exeept Athens itself and ■ne more interesting than Cape Colonna. To the antiquary anil artist, sixteen columns are an inexhaustible »ouree of observation and design ; to the philosopher, the supposed scene of some of Plato's conversations will not I*" unwelcome : and the traveller will be ■ - struck wilh the beam v of the prospect over" Irtet that crown the Mgean try, appear more conspicuous than in the record 0i|rf, e ^." but foren fc'nejishmen, Colonna hai yet en edditionel interest, 44 NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. Canto IT. till he accompanied us in our second excursion, How- ever, his works, us far as they go, are most b< but they art- almost all unfinished. While lie and hi patrons confine themselves to tasting medals, apprecia- ting cameos, sketching columns, anil < ■ J ■ * . i j > ■ hum l>ui their little absurdities are as harmless as insert or fox- hunting, maiden speechifying, bamueh driving, or any such pastime; hut when tiny carry awav three or four shiploads of the most valuable and ma ) i time and barbarism have left to the mo3l injured and most celebrated of cities; when they destroy, in a vain attempt to tear down, those works which hare been the admiration of ages, I know no motive which can no name which can designate, the perpetrators of this dastardly devastation. It was not the least of the ci imea laid to the charge of Verves, that he had plundered Si- cily, in the manner since imitated at Athens. The most unblushing impudence could hardly go farther than to 'affix the name of its plunderer to the walk of the Acropolis ; while the wanton and useless defacement of the whole range of the basso-relievos, in one com* pariment of the temple, will never permit that name to be pronounced by an observer wi'hout execration. On this occasion I speak impartially : I am not a col- lector or admirer of collections, consequently no rival; but I have some early prepossession in favour of : '' i & and do not think the honour of England advanced 1>\ plunder, whether of India or Attica, Another noble Lord has done better, because he has done less: but some others, no >re or less noble, vet '■ ajl honourable men," have done best, because, after a deal of excavation and execration bribery to the W mining and countermining, tney have d me nothing ;t' all. VVc had such ink-shed, and wine-shed, which al- most ended in bloodshed ! Lord E.*S " priir" — see Jona- than Wylde tor the definition of "priggism — quarrellet with another, Gropius* by name, (a pery good narat too for his business,] and muttered something about sa- tisfaction, in a verbal answer to a note of the poor Prus- sian : this was Btated al table toGropius, who laughed, but could cat no dinner afterwards. The rivals were not reconciled when 1 lefl Greece. I have reason tr remember their squabble, fur they wanted to make me theft arbitrator. 7 Her tin* too weak the sawed shrine f I i ' \ Yet Jcit $oms portion of their mother**, pains. Stanza xii. lines 7 and 8. I cannot resist availing myself of the permission of my friend Dr. Clarke, whose name requires no com- m ml with the public, but whose sanction will add ten- fold weight to my testimony, to insert the following ex- tract from a very obliging letter of his to me, as a not to the above tines. "When the last of the Metopes was taken from th ft* the aeiunt epot of Pateoner'a ShtjiwncV. Pal Ins find Pluto are foi gotleo, in the recollection of FVIc -r ind I tampbell i " Here in the dead of night br 1 ft'i teep, The teaman 'i cry vu heard along the deep." This temple of Mlntrva m.i? he seen nt sea 1'iom a great i list a nre. In two Jonnieyn which I made, ami one voyage 10 Cape Coloona, the view from eii her tide, bj land, was Its* striking than the approach from the tales. In our aeeond land excursion, we had a narrow eaenpa from n party of Mtootu, i necmled in the cnvenis heuaatb. We a/an told oll,.T«':ir,h. I. y ,,,,,. ,,i i\, r \, |„|. ,,-■> .uUs.-.jirentlv imunm.-d. 'hat Ihrv weredeterrrd from attHrkine n» t hV i' conjecturing very »n»iclou*ly, bill inlsi'ly, lhat we hitd it com pi eta guard ol thcie Amaonte al hand, the? remained ilationary, and ih n party, which arai too > m .ill i on .im lunl reeiataoco. Coloona is no less n rnorl of palntere than of plratei ! there 11 Tlu- hlrttlug niii-i uUiitahie palli y disk, Aad in ikei degrad n eeqna." (S e Hodgson's Lady Jane Hrrv, Ac.) But there Nature, with the aid of Art, hn* dom lhat for htm If. I wm lortonata enough Co engage a aira iiipcrior l ■ i en.-* mv acqualoUni I With Ihll and many Other Levantine scenes, hv the arrival of hii performance*. * This Sir Groplue was employed !■? a notdo tiord for the note purpose of ikelching, in which he ezcata ; but 1 am torrj t.i *.\y, that be hi., through the abused sanction of that most respectable name, I ingat humble distance in the itepi of Br. I Lshli f his tro nhies was dm dnad, aad I '. at I oniununople, in 1810 I am most happy to he now enabled to state, that " thai wai not In his bond ;" that he waa employed solely as a painter, and that Ins h pt tron disavows all connexion wiih him, except n» an nrtlsl. If the error In thefirat and aecond edition of this poem has eivni the n.Mel.ord n mo- tneui'i paiu, I am very sorry for It ; Sr. Qroptui lias MMlOh, I the name of his agent and' though I cannot much conilemn enuring in the miscuke of so many, I am happy in being one or the first to MUaoacsli ■ , i, | have .« much pleiuuii' in cuuli adiaing this us I Hit regret in stilling" Parthenon, and, in moving of it, great part of the super- structure with one ot the iriglyprtfl was thrown down by the workmen whom Lord blgin employed who beheld the mischief done to < I > 1 1 . < from his mouta, dropped a tear, ami, iii a supplica- ting tone ol voice, .-aid to Lusieri, TiXos 1 - — I waa pre- Bt Dl The Distlar alluded to was the father of the | Disdar. 8. Where was thine JE ' . Palia ' thai mq ttWd Stern Ataxic and Hwooc on thiir way? Stanza xiv. lines 1 According to Zosimus, Minerva and Achillea fririit- ened Ala ric from the Acropolis ; but others relate that the Gothic kino was neaih as tnischievoua as the Scot- tish peer. — See Chandler. 9. the netted canopy. The netting to prevent blocks or splinters from falling on deck during action, 10. But not in silence pass Cali/pso's isles. Stanza udx. line I. Gozais said to have been the island of Calypso. 11. I^and of Albania ! let me bend mine eyes On Viee. thou rugged nurse of savage men! Stanza uxviii. lines 5 and 6. Albania comprises part of Macedonia, Illyria, Chao- nia, and E pirns. 1 Lni", and adils l'virlius lo t h*: list, in speaking of his exploits. Of Albania Gibbon remarks, that a country " within sight of Italy is Less known than the bterior of Ameri- ca." Circumstances, ol Little conseqi :e to mention ted Mr. Hobhouse and myself into thai country before I any other part of the Ottoman dominions; and with the exception of Major Leake, then ofl residenl at Joannina, no other Englishmen have ever advanced beyond the capital into the interior, as that gentleman very lately assured me, Alt Pacha waa at that time (October, 1809) carrying on war [brahim Pacha, whom he had driven to Herat, b Btron fortress which he was then besieging : on our arrival al Joannina we were invited to Tepoleni, bis hi birthplace, and favourite Serai, only one day's distance from Berat; at this juncture the Vizier had made it Ins hi adnuarters. After some stav in the capital, we accordingly fol- lowed; bui though furnished with every accommoda- tion, and escorted by one of the Vizier's seeretarii 5, we were nine days (on areount of the ranis) in accomplish- ing ;t journey which, on our return, barely occupit d four, i in our route we passed two citii Libochabo, apparently little inferior to Yanina in size; and no peiii il or pen ran i-v< r do justire to the in the vicinity ol Zitza and Delvmachi, the frontier village of Epirua and Albania Proper, i in vicuna and its inhabitants I am unwilling to descant, because this will be dune so much better by my fellow-traveller, in a work which may probably |>" - in publication, that I as liitle wish to fo I would to anticipate him. But some few observations are necessary to the text The Arnaouts, or Albanese, struck me forcibly by their resemblance to the Highlanders of Scotland, in dress, figure, and manner of living, Theirvery moun- tains seemed Caledonian, with ■ kinder climate. The kilt, though while; the spare, active form; their dialect. Celtic in its sound, and ilinr hardy habits, ail cirxzad me back to Morvcn. No nation are so detested and dreaded by their neighbours as the Albanese; the Greeks hardly regard them as Christians, or the Turkr as Moslems ; and in fact they are a mixture of both, and Casto II. NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. 45 sometimes neither. Their habits are predatory — all are armed ; and the red-shawled Arnaouts, the Montene- grin-. ChimariotS, and < regdes, are treacherous ; tlie litfei somewhat in garb, and essentially in cha- racter. As far as mv own experience goes, I can speak favourably. I was attended l»v iwo, an Intidel and a Mussulman, Lo Constantinople and ev< ry other part o( Turkey whi h came within mv observation; ana more faithful in periL or in lufatigable in service are rarely to be. found. The [nfi i ■! was nam <1 Basttius, the Mos- lem, Dervish Tallin ; the farmer a man of middle age, and the r' ab ml mv own. Basiti was strictly d by All Pacha in person to attend us; and Der- vish was one of til'y wii , accompanied us through the ■ of Arcaaania to the hanks of Acheloua, and on- ward to Messalooghj in ^Btolia. There I took him into my own service, and never had occasion to repent it tu! ihe mom nt of ray departure. When m IS10, auer the departure of my fiiend Mr. II. for England, 1 was seized with a severe fever in the Morea, these men saved my life by frightening away my physician, whose throat they threatened to cut it 1 wj.s ii, m iMii,,| within a given ti:n,\ To this consolatory assurance of posthumous retribution, and a resolute refusal i>C Dr. Romanes's prescriptions, I attributed my recovery. I had left my last remaining English servant ut Athens; my dragoman was as ill If, and my poor Arnaouts nursed me with an attention winch would have done honour to civilization, They had a variety of advi ntures ; fur the Moslem, Dervish, b iing a remarkably handsome man, was always s |uabblino wi h the husban is of A; hens ; insomuch that four of the principal Turks paid me a visit of remon- strance at the Convent, on the subject of his having taken a woman from the bath — whom he had lawfully bought however — a thing quite contrary to etiquette. tittsih also was extremely gallant among his own persuasion, and had the greatest veneration for the church, mixed with the highest contempt of churchmen, whom he cuffed upon occasion in a most heterodox manner. Yet he never passed a church without cross- ing himself; and I remember the risk he ran in entering St. Sophia, in Stamb »l, because it had once been a place of his worship. On remonstrating with him on his inconsistent proceedings, he invariably answered, ir c lurch is h i j our priests are thieves ;" and then sed himfi ilf as » ual, and boxed ihe ears of the first •* papas" who refused to assist in any required ope- r.o 'ii. as was always found to be necessary where a pries! had any influence with the Co^ia Bashi of his [ndei i b mi ire abandoned race of mi- r< inti i a the lower o ders of the Greek clergy. When preparations were made for my return, my Albanians were summoned to receive their pa . Ba- ■ ik Jus with an awkwai I show of regret at my in- tended departure and marched away to his quarters with his bag of piastres. I sent f>r Dervish, but for i ■ he was n •' to be found : ai last he entered, jusl as Si mor Logotheti, father to the ci-di vanl Anglo- of Athens, and some her of my Greek acquaint- ances, paid me a visit. Dervish took the money, but on a sudden dashe 1 r to the ground; and clasping his bands, which he raised to his forehead, rushed out of the room, w ling bitterly. From that moment to the hour of my embarkation he co itinued his lament uions, and all our efforts to console liim only produced this an- swer, ' bid travel," " H<- leaves me.' 1 Signer Logotheti, who never wept befire P>r anv thing less than thi [osg of a para,* melted : the padre of the convent, my attendants, my visitors — and I verily believe that even Stern »n" would have 1,-fi her " 6sh to sympathize with the unaffected and unex- ! sorrow of this barbarian. For my own par', when I remembered that, a short time before my departure from England, a noble and most intimate associate had excused himself from tak- ing leave of me because ho had to attend a relation " to a milliner's," I felt no less surprised than humiliated by the present occurrence and the past recollection. That Dervish would leave me wnh some regret was to be expected : when master and man have been scram- biing over the mountains of a dozen provinces together, they are unwilling to separate ; hut his present feelings, contrasted with his native ferocity, improved my opinion of the human heart. I believe this almost feudal fide- lity is frequent among them. One day, on our journey over Parnassus, an Englishman in my service gave him a push in some dispute about the baggage, which he unluckily mistook lor a blow; he spoke not, but sat down leaning his head upon his hands. Foreseeing the consequences, we endeavoured lo explain away the af front, which produced the following answer : — I have been a robber; I am a soldier; no captain ever struck me; you are mv master, I have eaten vour bread, but by that bread J ( an usual oath) had it been otherwise, I would have stabbed the dog vour servant, and gone to the mountains." So the affair ended, but from that day forward he never thoroughly forgave the thought less fellow who insulted him. Dervish excelled in the dance of his country, conjec- tured to be a remnant of the ancient Pyrrhic: be that as it may, it is manlv, and requires wonderful agility. It is very distinct from the stupid Romaika, the dull round-about of the Greeks, of which our Athenian party had so many specimens. The Albanians in general (I do not mean the culti- vators of the earth in the provinces, who have also that appellation, but the mountaineers) have a fine cast of countenance ; and the most beautiful women I ever be- held, in stature and in features, we saw levelling the road broken down bv the torrents between Delvinachi and Libochabo. Their manner of walking is truly the- atrical ; hut this strut is probably the effect of the ca- pote, or cloak, depending from one shoulder. Their long hair reminds you of the Spartans, and their courage in desultory warfare is unquestionable. Though they have some cavalry amongst die Gegdes, I never saw a good Arnaout horseman ; my own preferred the Eng- lise saddles, which, however, they could never keep. But on foot they are not to be subdued by fatigue. 12. -and passed the barren «/">/, * P«nj, Bbuvit the fourth of • fcrtiUflg. Where sad Penelope overlook* d the won e. Stanza xxxix. lines I and 2. Ithaca. 13. Actium i Lcpanto t fatal Trafalgar. Stanza xl. line 5. Aciium and Trafalgar need no further mention. The battle of Lepanto, equally bloody and considerable, but less known, « as fought in the Gulf of Patras. Here the author of Don Quixote lost his left hand. 14. And liaiCd the last resort of fruitless love. Stanza xli. line 3. Leucatlia, now Santa Maura. From the promon- tory (the Lover's Leap) Sappho is said to have thrown herself. 15. . many a Roman chief and Asian king. Stanza xlv. line 4. It is said, that on the day previous to the battle of Ac- tium, Anthony had thirteen kings at his levee. 16. Ijook where the second Casar's trophies lose I Stanza xlv. line 6. NicopoliS] whose ruins are most extensive, is at some distance from Actium, where the wall of the Hippodrome survives in a few fragments. 17. . Acherusiu's lake. Stanza xlvii. line 1. According to Pouqueville the lake of Yanina; but Pouquevillc is always out. 18. To greet Albania's chiej. Stanza xlvii. line 4. The celebrated Ali Pacha. Of this extraordinary man there is an incorrect account in Pouqueville's Tra- vels 46 NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. Canto II. 19. Yet here and there some daring mountain band Disdain his power, ft w I from their rocky hold JHurl their dtfianct Jar f nor yield) unless to l S anza ilvii, lines 7, 8, and 9. Five thousand Suliotes, among the rocks and in the castle of Suli, witlistood 30,000 Albanians for eighteen years; the castle at last was taken by bribery. Ln this contest there were several acts performed not unwor- thy of the better Jays of Greece. 20. Monastic Zit:a t fyc. Stanza xlviii. lino I. The convent and village of Zttza are four hours' jour- ney from Joannina, or Vannm, the capital of the I'arh.i. licK. In the valley of the river Kahunas (once the Acheron) flows, and not far from Zitza forma a fine cataract. The situation is perhaps the finest in I rrei ce, though the approach to Delvinacni and parts of Acar- nania and /Stolia may contest the palm. Delphi. Par- nassus, and, in Attica, even Cape Colonna and Port Raphti, are very inferior; as also every scene in Eonia, or the Troad ; I am almost inclined to add the approacl to Constantinople; but from the different features of the last, a comparison can hardly be made. 21. Here d wills the ccdoi/cr. Stanza xli.x. line 6. The Greek monks are so railed. 22. Nature's volcanic amphitheatre. Stanza h. lini I The Chimariot mountains appear to have been vol- canic. 23. behold black Acheron ! Starua h. line 6. Now called Kalamas. 24. in his irhifi: capote Stanza 1 Albanese cloak. i. line 7. , which are generally chanted in dancing by men or wumen indiscriminately. The first words are merely a kind of chorus without meaning, like some in our own and all other languages. 1. Bo, Bo, Bo, Bo, Bo, Bo, Naciarura, popuso. 2. Naciarura na cii in Ha penderini ti hin. 3. Ha pe udcri escrotini Ti vin u mar servetini. Caliriote me surme K.i ha pe pse dua tivc. 5. Buo, Bo, Bo, Bo, Bo, i ii eg( in spii La esuniro, 6. Caliriote vu le fundc Edi irete Umde tunda Caliriote me surme Ti mi put e poi mi le. 8. Sc ti puta citi mora Si mi ri ni veti udo gia. 9. Va h- ni il che cadale Celo more, more celo. 10. Plu hari ti tirete Pin Duron uia pra seti. I, Lo, Lo, 1 come, I come; be thou silent. 2. I come, I run ; open the door thai I may enter. 3. Open the door by halves, that I may lake my tur- ban. 4. Cahriules* with the dark • \ • s, Open the gate that I may enter. 5. Lo,Lo, I hear thee, my soul. 6. An Arnaout girl, in costly garb, walks with graceful pride. 7. Caliriot maid of the dark ■eyes, give me a kiss. 8. If I have kissed thee, what hast thou gained? My soul is consumed with fire. 9. Dance lighty, more gently, and gently still. 10. Make not so much dust to destroy your embroidery hose. The sun had tunk behind rust Tomerit, Stanza Iv. hue 1. Anciently Tomarus. 26. And Laos vnde and fierce came roaring by. Stanza Iv. line 2. The river Laos was full at the time the author passed it; and, immediately above Topalen, was to the eye as wide as the Thames at Westminster; at least in the opinion of the author and his fellow-traveller, Mr, Hob- house. In the summer it roust be much narrower. It certainly is the finest river in the Levant; neither Ache- lous, Aipheus, Acheron, Schamonder, nor Cayster, ap- proached it in breadth or beauty. 27. Ami fellow-countrymen have stood a/ Stanza Ixvi. line S. Alluding to the wreckers of Cornwall. 28. Oie red u in* i '■■■ Ungfhst, Stanza ban, line 2. The Albanian Mussulmans do not abstain from wm.\ and indeed very few of the o 29. Each Palihar his sahre from him east, Stanza btxi. Sne 7. Palikar, shortened when addressed to a siin.de person, from IlaXiKapi, a general name for a soldier amongst tin- Greeks and Albanese who speak Romaic — it means pro- perly " a lad." 30. JVhdt this in concert , »$*c. Stanza ban. line last. As a specimen of the Albanian or Arnaout dialect of |he lllyric, T horp insert two of * u vx most popular cho- The last stanza would puzzle a commentator; the men have certainly buskins of the most beautiful texture, but the ladies (to whom the above is supposed to be addressed) have nothing under their little yellow boots and slippers hut a well-turned and sometimes very white ankle. The Arnaout girls are mucli handsomer than the Greeks, and their dress is (ar more picturesque. They preserve their shape much longer also, from be- iny always in the open air. It is to Be observed, that the Arnaout is not a written language ; the words of this song, therefore, as well as the one which follows, are spelt according to their pronunciation. They are copied by one who speaks and understands the dialect perfectly, and who is a native of Athens. 1. Ndi sefila unde utavossa Vettimi upri vi lo&a. Ah vaisisso mi privi lofso Si mi run" mi Ja vosse. r T ti tasa roba stua Sitti eve tulaii dua. Roha Btinori ssidua (iu mi sun vein* dua. 6. Qurniirti dua eivih ni Koha ti siarmi tildi em. 6. ITltara pisa vaisisso me sum nn ti hapti Eti mi hire a piste si gui dendroi tiltati. 1. I am wounded by thv love, and have loved but to scorch mvself. Thou hast consumed me ! Ah, maid! thou hast struck me to the heart. 3. I have said I wish no dow- ry, but thine eyes and eye-la i 4. Tho accursed dowry 1 want not, but thee 5. Give me thy charms, and let the portion feed the flames, 6. I have loved thee, maid, with a sincere soul, hut thou hast left me like a withered tree. • The Alhanece, particularly ttie women, are frvqotatlf Urmtd " U&UriotM ," for -vhat re«»on 1 >i ' i inquired io vain. Canto II. NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. 47 Udi vura udorini udiri ci- cova ciiti mora Udorini talti halliiaucde caunoni mora. If I have placed my hand on thy bosom, what have I gained? my hand is with- drawn, but retains the flame. T believe the two last stanzas, as they are in a differ- ent measure, ought to belong to another ballad. An idea something similar to the thought in the last lines was expressed by Socrates, whose arm having come in contact with one of his "vkokqXttioi" Critobulus or Cleobtllus, the philosopher complamed of a shooting pain as far as his shoulder for some days after, and very properly resolved to teach his disciples m future without touching them. 31. Tambourgi! Tambourgi ! thu larum afar, »$-c. Song, Stanza i. line 1. These Stanzas are partly taken ironi different Alba- tiese songs, as far as I was able to make them out by the exposition of the Albanese in Romaic and Italian. 3-2. Remember the moment when PrevisafelL Song, Stanza viii. line 1. It was taken by storm from the'French. 33. Fair Greece ! sad relic of departed worth, i$-c. Stanza lxxiii. line i. Some thoughts on this subject will be found in the subjoined papers, 34. Spirit of freedom ! when on Phyle's brow Thou safst with Thrasyhulus and his train. Stanza Ixxiv. lines 1 and 2. Phyle, which commands a beautiful view of Athens, has still considerable remains: it was seized by Thra- sybulus previous to the expulsion of the Thirty. 35. Receive the fiery Frank, her former guest. Stanza lxxvii. line 4. When taken by the Latins, and retained for several years. — See Gibbon. 36. The prophet's tomb of all its pious spoil. Stanza lxxvii. line 6. Mecca and Medina were taken some time ago by the Wahabecs, a sect yearly increasing. 37. Thy vales of ever-green, thy hills of snow — Stanza lxzzv. line 3. On many of the mountains, particularly Liakura, tht snow never is entirely melted, notwithstanding the in tense heat of the summer; but I never saw it lie on the plains, even ui winter. . 38. Save where some soli tar jj column mourns jlbove its prostrate brethren of the cave. Stanza Ixxxvi. lines 1 and 2. Of Mount Pentelicus, from whence the marble was dug that constructed the public edifices of Athens. The modern name is Mount Mendeli. An immense cave formed by the quarries still remains, and will till the end of time. 39. When Marathon became a magic word Stanza Ixxxix. line 7. "Siste Viator — hcroa calcas!" was the epitaph on the famous count Merc'i ; — what then must be our feel- ings when standing on the tumulus of the two hundred (Greeks) who feu on Marathon? The principal bar- row has recently been opened by Fauvel ; few or no relics, as vases, &c. were found by the excavator. The plain of Marathon was offered to me for sale at the sum of sixteen thousand piastres, about nine hundred pounds ! Alas ! — " Expende, — quot libras in duce sum- mo — invenies'." — was the dust of Miltiades worth no more? It could scarcely have fetched less if sold by weight. PAPERS REFERRED TO BV NOTE 33. I. Before I say any thing about a city of wliich every body, traveller or not, has thought it necessary to say something, I will request Miss Owenson, when she next borrows an Athenian heroine for her four volumes, to have the goodness to marry her to somebody more of a gentleman than a "DisdarAga," (who by the by is not an Aga,) the most impolite of petty officers, the greatest patron of larceny Athens ever saw, (except Lord E.) and the unworthy occupant of the Acropolis, on a handsome annual stipend of 150 piastres, (eight pounds sterling,) out of which He has only to pay his garrison, the most ill-regulated corps in the ill-regulated Ottoman Empire. I -speak it tenderly, seeing I was once the cause of the husband of "Ida of Athens" nearly suffering the bastinado; and because the said " Disdar" is a turbulent husband and beats his wife ; so that I exhort and beseech Miss Owenson to sue for a separate maintenance in behalf of "Ida." Having pre- mised thus much, on a matter of such import to the readers of romances, I may now leave Ida, to mention her birthplace. Setting aside the magic of the name, and all those associations which it would be pedantic and superfluous to recapitulate, the very situation of Athens would ren- der it the favourite of all who have eyes for art or na- ture. The climate, to me at least, appeared a perpe- tual spring ; during eight months I never passed a day without being as many hours on horseback : rain is ex- tremely rare, snow never lies in the plains, and a cloudy day is an agreeable rarity. In Spain, Portugal, and every part of the East which I visited, except Ionia and Atuca, I perceived no such superiority of climate to our own ; and at Constantinople, where I passed May, June, and part of July, (1810,) you might "damn the climatej and complain of spleen," five days out of seven. The air of the Morea is heavy and unwholesome, but the moment you pass the Isthmus in the direction of Megara the change is strikingly perceptible. But I far Hesiod will still be found correct in his description of a Bceotian winter. We found at Livadia an " esprit fort" in a Greek bishop, of all free thinkers ! This worthy hypocrite ral- lied his own religion with great intrepidity, (but not be fore his flock,) and talked of a mass as a " coglioneria." It was impossible to think better of him for this; but, for a Boeotian, he was brisk with all his absurdity.— This phenomenon (with the exception indeed of Thebes, the remains of Cha?ronea, the plain of Platea, Orcho- menus, Livadia, and its nominal cave of Trophonius) was the only remarkable thing we saw before we passed Mount Cithsron. The fountain of Dirce turns a mill : at least my com- panion (who, resolving to be at once cleanly and clas- sical, bathed in it) pronounced it to be the fountain of Dirce, and any body who thinks it worth while may con- tradict him. At Castri we drank of half a dozen stream- lets, some not of the purest, before we decided to our satisfaction which was the true Castalian, and even that had a villanous twang, probably from the snow, though it did not throw us into an epic fever, like poor Dr. Chandler. From Fort Phyle, of which large remains still exist, the Plain of Athens, Pentelicus, Hymettus, the JEgean, and the Acropolis, burst upon the eye at once ; in my opinion, a more glorious prospect than even Cintra or IstamboL Not the view from the Troad, with Ida, the Hellespont, and the more distant Mount Athos, can equal if, though so superior in extent. I heard much of the beauty of Arcadia, but excepting the view from the monastery of Megaspelion, (which is inferior to Zitza in a command of country,) and the descent from the mountains on the way from Tripolitza to Argos, Arcadia has little to recommend it beyond the name. "Sternitur, et dulces moriens reminiscitur Argos." Virgil could have put this into the mouth of none but an Argive, and (with reverence be it spoken) it does not deserve the epithet. And if the Polyniccs of Statitfs, 48 NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. Cabto II. .'Inmediis audit dab htora campis" did «*^/ n '" both shops hi croesingthe isthmus of Corinth, he had better cars than have ever been worn m such a journ. mown him can refuse their tesSi y, has Ireon-mly d, i ' Limy hearing, that the Greeks do no deserve to be emancipated ; reasoning on the grounds ol heir na- £S and individual depravev-'wlnle he for £ that ■such depravity is to be attributed to causes :h can only be removed by the measure he reprobates. Mr Ronue a French merchant ol respectability long sen' J in' Athens, asserted with .he most a..,,, in j cravttv "Sir, they are the same conoiKe that existed K I day, of zWistocfcs."' an alarming remark to Se«LSitortemporis acti." The ancients banished Thenriftocles; me moderns cheat Monsieur Roque: thus great men have ever been treated. [..short all the Frank, who are Sxtures, and most of the En dish... ■.., Uerm,,,, Danes, ke. ol r „^,"e. ea, ■ over by degrees to their opinion, or. .much ,&e S™ grounds that a Turk in England would condemn Z ™ nation by wholesale, because he was wronged b 3 h, Scquey, and overcharged by his washerwoman Certainly il was not a little staggering .when the Sta^sFauvelandLusieri, »Pf«*3W oftheday who divide between them the power ol Pen- See and the popularity of Cleon, and purfe *e poor wlyWewim P perpei ifference* agreed mfceuUsr condemnation, "nufia virtute redemptum, ol the Greeks in general and of the Athenians in parhciilar. For my own humble opinion, I am loth to hazard ,t, know,,,., aside that there be nov, in MS. no less than f iv. ms of h lir-t magnitude and of the most threat. e,„n,a.,,ee., all... lyr-r..,.! a;, by I»t- ; «m wit, and honour, and regular nmon-plaee 1 ks ,. if 1 „,..v say this without off nee, ,. seems to me rather hard to deeh.re so positively and pert......."" ... ■' • most every body has declared, thai ihe Greeks, because thev are verv bad, will never be better. , Kate,, and So,,,,,,., have led us astray by 'their pane- eyries and projects ; but, on the other hand De Pauv. and Thornton have .1-1.,, ed the Greeks lay 1 ll.c.r ''The" Greeks will never be independent; they wffl never be rov«reigns as heretofore, and God forbid they evers 1.1! but, hey may be snbj, ett w .thou be me slaves. Our colonies are not independent, but they ax. fr- and industrious, and such may Greece be hereafter At ores,,,,, hk, the Catholics of Ireland and the Jew. il,,,....!.-,,, the d, and such »*er cudgelled indheterodSi le.fl.ey suffer all the ,,, .ral and phy- aical .Us that can afflict humanity. Then Id is atruUle aeainst truth ; thev are v.e.ous ... th.-.r own d. • f ; •- Tl 'van- sou la to kin, s, that when ftcy occasionally u,«-t w„h it they look opon .1 w» JB™- cion as a dog often beaten snaps al your fingers if you attempt to clress him. "They are ungrateful, noton- „u s ly, P ab„minably ungrateful ?>-tbis > <>' W""*«7- Now in the „„,, ' Nemesis! for what are they to be mtendl Where is the human being thai ,.,,-,- grred a benefit on Greek orGreeks? They an , to be grateful to the Turks for their fetters, and to the Frank: for their broken promises and Wing counsels. 1 hey arc to be grateful to the artist who eneraves their ruins, and to the antiquary who carries them away, to toe traveller whose janissary Bogs lh| DJ, and to Ihe - ■ " "" ■"" UU "' °' their obligations to fbreignei II. Franciscan Cannot, Athens, January 23. 1811. Amona the remnantsof ll f '*• eirl" ."••- «e Ihe nacesol bondage which yet east " ,,,,.-,' , blries; whoso inhahiianUj. B, Lided in r,..,..'„ and r-, al t al , i y, haYe at last compassionated their Ne- efee ; ra£S=E dew. have ^Cindent^reekswel - « ^;. h.s age in the stud) of to. lan( .-,.,.. aih. , , ,,, i ma ;o u. a m favpur ol free- Z;'",;,;, i.: r ',.;'; ."..1.1 -:-...'.«...-< .1.. >.■»»"■, repu&arelel w„,,ny -. ,l,-,r ...as,.^ ,:!l ah a vei rl is required to sink, ofl *To C tolk! S as the Greeks themsel , do.ol fliefrrHBlvg a„ai . '.th. .r prisUne superiority, wouli be ndiculous ; J the world mus ' »». Lf.er7eassertine ihe *.^r.„uu ol Greece: tatthere ■e,, oh- no.., .cle, «ceptm l,. ; i .,*- thvrf the Franks, t ,l " 1 ""- ,-v orevenTrVe, '""" ; - , I" 'eorreei.on, however, be it spoken f5r many and "nanlorUKal UK., doubl -'-"> ' ' "' ° f ''"i h, Greeks have never lost their hope tl.ouuh they e lividedino, ! g ;;' , r , ., ,, K_„ rRrs R,.| n r-' o. K ||s - ,'''"' „;'V haVetwic! been deceit SS 'h„. -, r^ and Ihe dreadful lesson ',,. I.fl.r.l,' Al„ "" •» •!■«■ »'•■'.■ never been fbi >'• "■ The French they d.sl.k e : al- ?hZh*fsobTSgation of the rest of Europe w.ll. p- ■ alt ,,„led bv the deUverance -I ; tinental e^TheiSanderelool English for suc«,ur ; have v. IV lal.lv possessed, In, "selves ol the ,lav arrive Heaven have mercj on th. W Iheycannol expect it from the G.aou rlut instead of considermg what l -j^ BpecdaUng on what ihq may ut, "AnYhwil U imposobletorec fl.theconl oftputionsl. .part ■he Greeks in the strongesl langi ally haveners, taming periods m lublishine very curious BpeculaUons grafted on heir I ,',-,„. wl,„l, can hav, no more eflect on the» ,,; . ..Vl,.,..!...... riste. Ino on the future fori s ol Peru. „,,!,„ ,,„nlur„l One very ingenious person terms them the natura a,! ,"„fEn..h s l„..en;" another, no less u,ee,„ous w.ll ; allow ,!,-.„ tob, lh alUes of anybody^ («»« ,,, r verv .1, scenl from the ancienu; a third, more .m- •erious^aleitoer. builds a Greek empire on a F t,ld,, , I »a^e. (on paper) all *.ctam. Pa.herii.e II As lo the question ol their descent to which they once Kkened themselves? Wtot Bng. Canto II. NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. 43 things of this world, as to render even their claims lo antiquity an object of envy; it is very cruel, then, in Mr. Thornton to disturb (hem in the possession of all that time has left them ■ viz. their pedigree, of which they are the m w tenacious, a^ il is all they can call tin ir n.vn, It would be worth while to publish together, and compare, the works of Messrs. Ihornton and De Pauw, titon and Sonnini; paradox on one side, and prejudice on the other. Mr. Thornton conceives him- self to have claims to public confidence from a fourteen years' residence at Pera; perhaps he may on the sub- ject of the Turks, but this can give him no more insight into the real state of Greece and her inhabitants, than rears spent in Wapping into that of the West- ern Highlands. The Greeks of Constan'inople live in Fanal ; and if Mr. Thornton did not oftner cross the Golden Horn than his brother merchants are accustomed to do, I should place no great reliance on his information. I actually heard one of these gentlemen boast of their Utile general intercourse with the city, and assert of himself, with an air of triumph, that he had been but four times at Constantinople in as many years. As to Mr, Thornton's voyages in the Black Sea with Greek vessels, they gave him the same idea of Greece as a cruise to Berwick in a Scotch smack would of Johnny Grot's house. Upon what grounds then does he arrogate the right of condemning bv wholesale a body of m n, of wh im he can know hide? It is rather a curious circumstance that Mr. Thornton, who so lavishly dispraises PouqueVille on every occasion of m ntioning the Turks, has yet recourse to him as authority on the Greeks, and terms him an impartial ob- server. Now Dr. Pouqueville is as little -untied to that appellation, as Mr. Thornton to confer it on him. The fact is, we are deplorably in want of information on the subject of the Greeks, and in particular their literature, nor is there any probability of our being bet- ter acquainted, till our intercourse becomes more inti- mate, or their independence confirmed : the relations of passing travellers are as little to be depended on as the invectives of angry factors ; but till some tiling more can be attained, we must be content with the little to be acquired from similar sources.* However defective these may be, they are preferable to the paradoxes of men who have read superficially of the ancients, and seen nothing of the moderns, such, as De Pauw ; who, when he asserts that the British breed of horses is ruined by Newmarket, and that the Spar- tans were cowards in the field, betrays an equal know- ledge of English horses and Spartan men. His "ph." Ictsophica] observations" have a much better claim to the title of (t poetical.** It could not be expected that ■ so liberally condemns some of the most celebra ted institutions of the ancient, should have mercy on the modern Greeks; and it fortunately happens, that the absurdity of his hypothesis on their forefathers re- futes his sentence on themsi Ives. Let us (rust, then, that in spite n\" the prophecies of De Pauw, and the doubts of Mr. Thornton, there is a reasonable hope of the redemption of a race of men, who, whatever maybe the errors of their religion and • A word,- an pitwant, with Mr. Thornton awl Dr. Pouqueville, who have l>*en guilt* between them of jidly clipping the Sultan' ■ Turkish. Dr. Ponqnev.llo tell* alottgatory of a Moslem who swallowed corrosive t'tbltmate In such q lantilies thai lie ■■■ , lireel the nam.- of " Suleyman ^ r'/rn," i. e. quoth the Doctor, " Sultt/mnn, the eater of corrosive tvt- :..' i Mr. Thornton, (angry with the Doctor for the have I ?hl you?"— Then, in a mile twice the ibiclc- Heia of the Doctor's anecdote, he questions the Doctor's proficiency in the Turkish loufue, ai in his own.— " For," observes Mr. Thornton, (o ler Inflicting on us the tough participle of a Turkish verb,) ■.. nothing more lh in Salesman thr eolev," and quite cashiers ■ " tublimftfe." Now both »re right, and both are wrong. It .Mr. T'homton, when ho next resides " fourteen years In the factory," will con ! ■ ■ ■ iuy of hla Stambo- mtanee, he will d SWeyna'fl yeurn," put to- gether discreetly, mean the '* Svattovw of sublimate,," without any " SuZeymvi'' ill the case : " Suleyma" signifying " corrosive subti- mn'e," an l not being n proper name on tins occasion, although it be an orthodox name enough with the addition of "■ after Mr. Tbornlon'i frequent hints of pi li narOrii lalism, he might have found this out be fore he snng such pssans over Dr. Pcniqueville. After this, I think " Travellers versus Factors" shall be our motto, though the above Mr. Thonitui has condemned " hoc genus omne, for mistake and misrepresentation, " Ne Sutor ultra creptdara," " N< merchant beyond Ma bales." N. B. Fur the benefit of Mr. Thornton " Sulor" is not a proper name. policy, have been amply punished by three centuries and a halt* of captivity. III. AtkenS) Franciscan Convent^ Mar, 17, 1S11. " I must have some talk with this learned Theban." Some time after my return from Constantinople to this city, I received the thirty-first number of the Edin- burgh Review as a great favour, and certainlv at this distance an acceptable one, from the captain of an English frigate off Salamis. In that number, Art. 3. containing the revii w of a French translation ofStrabrx there are introduced some remarks on the modern Greeks and their literature, with a short account of Coray, a co-translator in the French version. On those remarks I mean to ground a few observations, and the spot where I now write will I hope be sufficient excuse for introducing them in a work in some degree connected with the subject. Coray, the most cele- brated of living Greeks, at least among ihe Franks, was born at Scio, (in the Review Smyrna is stated, I have reason to think, incorrectly, ) and, besides the transla- tion of Beccaria and other works mentioned by the Reviewer, has published a lexicon in Romaic and French, if I may irust the assurance of some Danish travellers lately arrived from Paris; But the latest we have seen here in French and Greek is that of Gregory Zolikogloou.* Coray has recently been involved in an unpleasant controversy with M. Gail.j a Parisian commentator and editor of some translations from the Greek puis, in consequence of the Institute having awarded him the prize for his version of Hippocrates " TltfA bSdrtov" &c. to the disparagement, and conse- qm u'l, displeasure, of the said Gail. To his exertions literary and patriotic great praise is undoubtedly due, but a part of ( hat praise ought not to be withheld from the two brothers Zosimado, (merchants settled in Leg- horn,) who sent him to Paris, and maintained him foi the express purpose of elucidating the ancient, and adding lo the modern, researches of his countrymen. Coray, however, is not considered by his countrymen equal to s^nie who lived in the two last centuries; more particularly Dorotheus of Mitylene, whose Hellenic writings are so much esteemed by the Greeks that Meletius terms him, " Msra riv OovkvcIStiv teat "Zevo- mvra apirrros 'EXAjJi wv." (P. 224 Ecclesiastical His- tory, vol. iv.) Pana*giotes, Kodrikas, the translator of Fontenelle, and Kamarases, who translated Ocellus Lucanus on the Universe into French, Chris todoulus, and more particularly Psalida, whom I have conversed with in Joannina, are also in high repute among their literati. The last-nu-niioned has published in Romaic and Latin a work on "True Happiness," dedicated to Catherine II. But Polyzo'is, who is staled by the Reviewer to be the only modern except Coray who has distin- guished himself by a knowledge of Hellenic, if he be the Polyzois Lampanitziotes of Yanina, who has pub- lished a number of editions in Romaic, was neither more nor less than an itinerant vender of books ; with the contents of which he had no concern beyond his name on the title-page, placed there to secure his pro- perty in the publication , and he was, moreover, a man utterly destitute of scholastic acquirements. As the name, however, is not uncommon, some other Polyzois may have edited the Epistles of Aristfenetus. If is to be regretted that the system of continental blockade has closed the few channels through which i he Greeks received their publications, particularly Ve- nice and Trieste. Even the common grammars for children are become too dear for the lower orders. Amongst their original works the Geography of Mele- tius, Archbishop of Athens, and a multitude of theolo- gical quartos and poetical pamphlets, arc to be met • I have in mv possession nn exCehVnt Lexicon rpty\waaoi' which I I .11 exchange from S. G — , Esq for a small gem : my antiqua- rian friends have never forgotten it, or forgiven me. t in Gail's pamphlet against Coray, he talks of" throwing the insolen* Hellenists owl of the windows." On Una « French critic .>*claims, "Ah. my God ! throw nn Helleni&le out of the window ' what sacrilege t" I' certainly would be n serious business for those BUthora who dwell in (lis attics : but I have quoted the passage merely to prove the aimilarily of style among the con trove rsiulitts of all polished countries ; London or Edinburgh coutJ hardly parallel this Parisian ebullition. NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. 60 with; their grammars and lexicons of two, three an, I four languages, are numerous and i sxellent. fneir poetry is" in rhyme. The most singular piece 1 have lately seen is a satire in dialogue between a Kut tan, English, and French traveller, and the V?»ywode ol "Wailach.a (»r Blackbey, as they term linn,) an arch- hishop a merchant, and Cogia BachL [or primate,] m B jsion; to all of whom under the Turks the writer i i a their present degen iracy. Their si Bomi times pretty an I pathetic, but their tunes generall) unpleasin.r In the ear ..I a Frank: the best IS Ihi famous "Acert iroiterSv 'EWuJv»v," by ihi unfortunate Riga But from a catalogue of inure ihan sixty authors, now before me, onli fifteen can lie found wbtejuwe touched on any theme except theology. I am intrusted with a commission by a Greek ol Athens, named Marmarotouri, to make arrangements, if possible, for printing in London a translation of Barthe- lemi's Anacharsis in Romaic, as he has i ther oppor- tunity, unless he despatches the MS. to Vienna by the Black Sea ami Danube. The Reviewer mentions a school established at Hecatonesi, and suppressed at the instigation of Sebas- tian! : he means ( 'nli mies, or, in Turkish. Hawaii; a town on the continent, where thai institution fir a hundred students and three professors still exists. It ls ,rl " that tins establishment was disturbed by the Porte, under the ridiculous pretext that the Greeks were con- structing a fortress instead of a college: but on inves. Casto II. issions, as the whole A'.tic race are barbarous to a " a hOnva irporrj X"P° „ Ti yuioupoi's TfHifui Twpa. In Gibbon, vol x. p. 161, i tence:— " '| he vul ■■■< di church and pala ,.,,1 ,;, copj ihe purity of ihe All* ■ Whatever may be asserted i n the subject, il is difficult in conceive that the " I Conslanimople, inlha reign ol Ihe lasl ( i I ike a purer dial' cl lhan A i tigationTand the payment of some purses to Ihe Divan it lias been pcrmitte'd to continue. The principal pro. feasor, named Ueniamin, (i. e. Benjamin,) is stand to be a man of talent, but a freethinker. He was born in Lesbos, studied in Italy, and is master of Hellenic, Latin and some Frank languages; besides a smattering of the sciences Though it is nut my intention to enter farther on this topic than may allude to the article in question, I cannot but observe that the Reviewer's lamentation ovr tie fall of the Greeks appears singular, when he .loses it with these words: "The change is to be a&ritndtd to their misfortunes rather than to tmy ' physical degrada- tion.'" It may be true that the Greeks an notphj i cally degenerated, and that Constantinople ■ tained, on the day when it changed masters, as many men ol six feet and upwards as' in the hour of prosperity ; but ancient history and modem politics instruct us that something more than physical perfection is necessary to preserve a slate in vigour and independence : and the Greeks, in particular, are a melancholy example ol the near connexion between moral degradation and national decay. The Reviewer mentions a plan " ice believe by Potcnvkm for the purification of the Romaic, and 1 have endeavoured in vain to procure any tidings or traces "I its existence. There was an academy in St. Peters- burgh for the Greeks; but it was suppressed by Paul, and has not been revived by Ins successor. There is a slip of ihe pen, ami it can only be a slip of the pen, in p. 58, No. 31, of the Edinburgh Review, where these words occur : — " We are told than when the capital of the East jjelde 1 to Socman"— il may be pre- sumed that this last word will, in a future edition, be altered loMabotnet II." The '• ladira of Constantin |do." il seems, at that period spoki a dialect, "which wool. I not have disgraced the lips of an Athenian.' 1 I do nol know how thai mighl be, but am sorry to say the ladies in general, and the Athenians in particular- are much altered; being far from choice either in their dialect or to conci reign ol ■... Comnena wrote three cen ones ot fori : and those royal , te I the l» -i models ol • po Ithough thi princi J yXurrav «xev AKPIBflS Arrui. ,,„„,. In the Fanal, and in Vaniua, Il i is spoken: in the latter Here is a noun rig under the direction oi Psalida. -__,.,. t • There is now- in Aliens a pupil ol Psalida s, who IS making a tour oi observation through Greece: lie is intelligent, and better educated than a fellowicommonei of most colleges. 1 mention ties as a proof that the 3 pi r i1 of in, pun is not dormant among the Grei ks. Tin- Reviewet mentions Mr. Wright, the autl the beautiful poem " Hone lonicse," to give i. tails ol these nominal Rom i Greeks, of ilieir language: but Mr. Wright, though a e iod poet and tin able man, has made a mistake where i, Albani in di dt 1 1 of the Romaic to approxi- ,,, Lt urest to Ihe Hellenic: for the Albanians apeak a Romaic as notoriously corn. pi as the Scotch of Aber- deenshire, or the Italian of Naples. Yanina, (where, next 10 the F.mal, Ihe Greek is purest,) although the capital of All Pacha's domin . i nol in Albania but Epiius; and beyond Delvinachi in Albania Proper, up to Argyroeastro and Tepaleen, (beyond which I did not advance,) they speak worse Greek than even the Athenians. I was attended for a year and a half by two of lie-, singular mountaineers, whose mother tone,,, is Ulyric, and 1 never heard mem or their countrymen (whom 1 have seen, not only at home, but to the amo u n t of twenty thousand in the army of Vely P for their'Grcek, but often laughed at for Iheii proi incial barbarisms. I have in my possession about twenty-live among which some from the Bey of Corinth, written to me by Notaras, ihe t'ogia Ha. hi, and others by ihe Irago i of the Caimacam of the Mores, (which last governs in Vely Pacha's absence,) are said to be favour- able specimens of then epistolary style. I also received some at Constantinople from private persons, written in a most hyperbobcal style, but in the true antique character. The Reviewer proceeds, after some remarks on the • Inn former number of the Edinburgh Retiow, 1808, II 11 ohsrrved ! ■i] . , Br pasted lome ol hlei orly year* In Scotland, n have learned thai pioroca doae liol I I I "e 7" any mors mnnrjiiel meana K /lit, He." vViery,— Was il in Scotl ind that the young !„„',„„n ol oi Edl rah RerlewJonmod thtil Sotymaa moans Mo/toma //.any more lhan crilifitrm mean. Infallibility 7— hul UlUI " Cajdimue inqoe vicem prcbomtie crura msilUa. The mistake seemed so cm,, : ''"'I I ; Die mal f lull InriO/ of the two words, and ihe total OOOOflca O/tTTOi t' ',,, ,ei i,,-,'» „l the literary leviauiaul that I ehouW have pe .*,■,, be, of ihe greatest aid to the native student. — Here the Reviewer pro- ceeds to business on Strabo's translators, and here I close mv remarks. Sir W. Drummond, Mr. Hamilton, Lord Aberdeen, Canto II. NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. 51 Dr. Clarke, Captain Leak.-, Mr. Gull, Mr. Walpole, and many others d >w in England, have all ihe requisites to furnish details of tins fallen people. The few obser- vations I have offered E should have left where I made them, had not the article in question, and above all the spot where I read it, induced me to advert to those pag ss, which the advantage of my present situation Boa tied me to clear, or at least to make the attempt. I have endeavoured to wave the personal feelings, which rise in despite of me in touching upon any part of the Edinburgh Review; not from a wish to conciliate ihe favour of its writers, or to cancel the remembrance of a syllable I have formerly published, hut simply from a si nse of the impropriety of mixing up private resent- ments with a disq lisition of (lie present kind, and more particularly at this distance of time and place. ADDITIONAL NOTE, OS THE TURKS. The difficulties of travelling in Turkey have b ;cn much exaggerated, or ra her have considerably dimi- nished of fate years. The Mussulmans have been beaten into a kind of sullen civility, very comfortable to b jers. Ir is hazardous to say much on the subject of Turks and Tiirkey; since it is possible to live among them twenty years without acquiring information, at least from themselves. As far as my own slight experience carried me I have no complaint to make; but am in- debted for many civilities, (I might almost say for friendship.) and much hospitality, to Ali Pacha, Ins son Veli Pacha of the Morea, and several others of high rank in the provinces. Suleyman Aga, late Governor of A then?, and now of Thebes, was a oon vivant, and as social a being as ever sat cross-legged at a tray or a table. During the carnival, when our English party were masquerading, both himself and his successor were more* happy to "receive masks" than any dowager in Grosvenor square. On one occasion of his supping at the convent, his friend and visitor, the Cadi of Thebes, was carried from table perfectly qualified for any club in Christen- dom; while the worthy Waywode himself triumphed in hi [nail money transactions with the Moslems, lever found the strictest honour, the highest disinterestedness. In transacting business with them, there are none of ■■ dirty peculation?, under the name of interest, difference of exchange, commission, &c. &.c. uniform!) found in applying to a Greek consul to cash bills, even on the firsl houses in Pera. With i" tear I to pr isents, an established c istom in the Ea^t, you will rarely find yourself a loser; as one worth i'- eptance is generally returned by another of similar value— a horse, or a shawl. [11 ili capital an I al court the citizens and courtiers are formed in the un ch i »1 with those of Christiani- ty ; hut there does not exisl a more honourable, friendly, and high spirited character than the true Turkish p-o- mm i:ii \- i, <>r Moslem country gentleman. It is not meant here to de-ignate the governors of towns, but those Agai who, bv a kind of feudal tenure, possess lands and houses, of more or less extent, in Greece and A-ia M'nor. The lower orders are in as tolerable disc'pline as the rabble in con h greater pretensions to civiliza- tion. A Moslem, in walking the streets of our country- towns, would be more incommoded in England than a Prank in a similar situati m in Turkey. Regimentals .in- the be it irai elling dress. The 1> sst accounts of the religj n. and different sects of Islaraism, mav be found in D'Ol ison's French; of their manners, &<\ perhaps in Thornton's English. The Ottomans, with all then delects, are not a people to be despised. Equal, at least, to the Spaniards, they are superior to the Portuguese. If it he difficult to pro- nounce what they are, we can at least say what they arc not : thev arc not treacherous, they are not cowardly, they do not burn heretics, thev are not assassins, nor has an enemy advanced to their capital. They are faithful to their sultan till he becomes unfit to govern, and devout to their God without an inquisition. Were they driven from St. Sophia to-morrow, and the French or Russians enthroned in their stead, it would become a question, whether Europe would gain by the exchange? England would certainly be the loser. With regard to that ignorance of which they are so generally, and sometimes justly accused, it may be doubted, always excepting France and England, in whal useful points of knowledge they are excelled by other nations. Is it in the common arts of life ? In their manufactures 7 Is a Turkish sabre inferior to a Toledo? oris a Turk worse clothed or lodged, or fed and taught, than a Spaniard? Are their Pachas worse educated than a Grandee? or an Effeudi than a Knight of St. Jago. I think not. I remember Mahmout, the grandson of Ali Pacha, asking whether my fellow-traveller and myself were in i lie upper or lower House of Parliament. Now this question from a boy of ten years old proved that his education had not been neglected. It may be doubted if an English boy at that age knows the difference of the Divan from a College of Dervises ; but I am very sure a Spaniard does not. How little Mahmout, surrounded, as Vie had been, entirely by his Turkish tutors, had learned that there was such a thing as a Parliament it were useless to conjecture, unless we suppose that his instructors did not confine his studies to the Koran. In all the mosques there are schools established, which are very regularly attended ; and the poor are taught without the church of Turkey being put into peril. I believe the system is not yet printed ; (though there is such a thing as a Turkish press, and books printed on the late military institution of the Niznm Gedldd;) nor have I heard whether the Mufti and the Mollas nave subscribed, or the Caimacam and the Tefterdar taken the alarm, for fear the ingenious youth of the turban should be taught not to "pray to God their way." The Greeks also — a kind of Eastern Irish papists — have a college of their own at Maynooth — no, at Haivali ; where the heterodox receive much the same kinrl of countenance from the Ottoman as the Catholic college from the English legislature. Who shall then affirm that the Turks are ignorant bigots, when they thus evince the exact proportion of Christian charity which is tolerated in the most prosperous and orthodox of all possible kingdoms? But, though they allow ^11 this, they will not suffer the Greeks to partici- pate in their privileges: no, let them fight their battles, d pay their haratch, (taxes,) be drubbed in this world, I damned in the next. And shall we then eman- cipate our Irish Helots? Mahomet forbid! We should then be bad Mussulmans, and worse Christians; at present we unite the best of both— Jesuitical faith, and something not much inferior to Turkish toleration. APPENDIX. A mono an enslaved people, obliged to have re- course to foreign presses even for their books of reli- g'mn, it is less to be wondered at that we find so few publications on general subjects than that we find any at all. The whole number of the Greeks, scattered up and down the Turkish empire and elsewhere, may amount, at most, to three millions; and yet, for so scan'y a number, it is impossible to discover any nation with so great a proportion of books and their authors, as the Greeks of the present century. "Ay," but say the generous advocates of oppression, who, while they assert the ignorance of the Greeks, wish to prevent them from dispelling it, " av, but these are mostly, if not all, ecclesiastical tracts, and consequently good for no- thing." Well, and pray what else can they write about? It is pleasant enough to hear a Frank, particularly an Englishman, who may abuse the government of his own country; or a Frenchman, who mav abuse every govern- ment except his own, and who may range at will over everv philosophical, religious, scientific, skeptical, or moral subject, snnenng at the Greek legends. A Greek 52 NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. Canto II. must not write on politics, ami cannot touch on acii ni - for want of instruction ; if he doubts, he is excommu- nicated and damned; therefore In- countrymen are noi poisoned with modern philosophy; and as to morals, thanks to the Turks! there are no such things, Whai then is lefl him, if he has a turn for BcribWing? Reli- gion, and holy biography: and it is natural enOU those who have so little in tin- lil should look to the next. It is no great wonder then that in a catalogue n.t'.\ ln.-forti me of hTiv-live (Ireck writers, many of whom were lately living not above fifteen should nave touched "ii ;inv thing but religion. The catali laded to is contained in the twenty-sixth chapter of the fourth volume of Melelius's Ecclesiastical History. From this I subjoin an extract of those who Inv te i gem ral subjects ; which will be followed by some specimens of the Romaic. LIST OF ROMAIC AUTHORS.* Neophitus, Diakonos (the deacon) of the Morca, has published an extensive grammar, and also Bome politi- i i m ulationS] which last were left unfinished at his death. Prokopius. of Mosconolis, (a town in Epirus,) has written and published a catalogue of the learned Greeks. Seraphin, ofPericlea, is the author of many works in the Turkish language, but Greek character; for the Christians of Caramama, who do nut speak Romaic, hut read the character. Eustatliius Psalidas, of Bucharest, a physician, made the tour ol England for the purpose of study {%&pu> (juih'/aaoi) : but though his namr is enumerated, il is not staled that he has writl ■ Kalluukiis Torgeraus, Patriarch of Constantinople : manj poems of Kis are extant, and also prose tracts, and a catalogue of patriarchs since the last taking of Constantinople, Anastasius Vfacedon, of Naxos, member of the royal .1 :ademy of Warsaw. A church biographer, D metritis Pamp res, a Moscopolite, has written many works, particularly "A Commentary on Hesiod's Shield ojf Hercules," and two hundred tales, (of what is ecified,) and has published Ins correspondence wnli the celebrated George of Trebizond, his cotem- porary. Meletius, a celebrated geographer; and author of the book from whence these notices are taken, Dorotheus, of Mitylene, an Aristotelian philosopher: his Hellenic works are in great repute, and, he is es teemed by the modems (1 quote the words of Meletius) fttTu rbv QovKvtitSrjv teat Hei'O^urro aptaroi 'EXXfJybH'. T add further, on the authority of a well-informed Greek, thai he was so famous amone his countrymen, that they were accustomed to Bay, ifThucydides and Xenophon were wanting, he was capable of repairing the loss. Marions Count Tharboures, of Cephalonia, profes- sor of chemistry in tie' aca lem^ of Padua, and member of that academy, ami those of Stockholm and Upsal He has published, at Venice, an account of some ma- rine annual, and a treatise on the properties oCiron, Marcus, brother to the former, famous in mechanics. He removed to St. Petersburg the immense rock on winch the statue of Peter the Great was fixed in itch. Si e the 'ii tsertation which he publii bed in 1 'aris, 1 777. George Constantino has published a foui lexicon. George Vcntotc; a lexicon in French, Italian, and Romaic. There exist several other dictionaries m Latin and Romaic, French, &e. besides grammars m < m i v mo- dern language, except English. Among tin- living authors the following are most celebrated : — t Athanasius Parios has written a treatise on rhetoric in Hellenic. * It I> to be obnervetl, thai the nime« Riven arc not In ctironologicnl •trdei i 'it consist of Borne Pttoctad it ■ rsotun \> DID amonc ihoae who I !:■■ iii Lbe taking of < !ootUoUaopIs to uti tin i f M I T TW»* nftlMl nrt net mltm frnm *nv jvihllcali-'n. Christodoulos, an Ararnanian, has published, in Vi- cuna, some physical treatises in Hellenic Panagjotes Kodrikas, an Athenian, the Romaic trans- lator of FonteneUeV "Plurality of Worlds, 11 (afavounte work amongst the Greeks.) is stated to be a tea- the Hellenic and Arabic languages in Paris ; in both of b Inch he is an adept. Athanasius, the Parian, author of a treatise on rhe- toric. Vicenzo Damodos of Cephalonia, has written u tU rb pccoSdpGapov" on logic and physii John Kamaraa i Byzantine, has translated into French Ocellus on the Universe. lie is said to be an excellent I Ei Uenist, and I i»tin scholar. Gregorio Demetrius published, in Vienna, a e phical work : he has also translated several Raban au- thors, and printed his versions at Venice. Of Coray and Psalida some account has been already given. GREEK WAR SONG.* 1. AET'TE, Tra7&ts tuv 'EXA^wv b K(i7{>o$ Tt)^ h6%n$ ^\0tv t ii '••fiti 2£v Xymtepi roTafttottiv ^\8(iwv rb atpa u£ rpt^t) lirb jroStltv. "OOtv claOt twv 'EXXf/i'wv KdKKnXn AvSpttQiUvctj irveAfiara ttrK0fiir*9fitva % ru>pa \a\3trt KVOffl ; *0T*r}v ffxai'ttv rift au\r:t\K6i pov.\ WVilyQi'tTe 3X« bfinv • K it ttKfirt ~pb wavTov. 'I'd bVXa aS \d6tap£i', &c. Y.Z'Idt.i, SirdpTCt, rt KvtfiaaOt Zievov \i)0apyov paditv \ pcif kui ojj Xtwr OVftUtfltVOSi t.\ rb ntpa rffil< (iovru. 'I'd SirXe us XdGwjitVf &c. ROMAIC EXTRACTS. Pwuots, "AycXoj, Kai IVAXof Kapvovrcq ri)v irtpti}yrjat% T?)i 'EXXrt'^05, XOf /3XlJrovr£f riiv aOXtav rtfv Kurd- araaiv, glpt&rqffav Karapx^'t tva rpatxbv ipiXiWrjva ilA vd pdOovv Ttjv afrlav, uer' alrbv Zva pqrpo- iroX/rTjv, lira tva /JXu'^oTTf iv, tirctrti tva irpayfta- Tevrt/Vj Kai tva irpoecT&Ta. A trantliition of l!n» *ong w ill be found tunong the imdller Poem*, i» Cabto II. NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. 53 "Etirt f*a$ <5 tpiXiXXrjva, irif V, XvC Ttjlt &lTOpia.V. which is in fact the present heroic couplet of the Romaic. 'O WAE'AAHNOE. *Ptoav t!]v Xoyi£ct Md' OOTJS ToXflTjGT} va TllV %V7TVliGTI irdyci orbv ddfjv x u P*S rtva *(>"** "• The above is (he commencement of a long dramatic satire on the Greek priesthood, princes, and gentry ; it is contemptible as a composition, but perhaps curious as a specimen of their rhyme: I have the whole in MS. but this extract will be found sufficient. The Romaic in this composition is so easy as to render a version an insult to a scholar ; but those who do not understand the original will excuse the following bad translation of what is in itself indifferent. TRANSLATION. A Russian, Englishman, and Frenchman making the tour of Greece, and observing the miserable state of the country, interrogate, in turn, a Gieek Patriot, to learn the cause; afterwards an Archbishop, then a Vlackbcy,* a Merchant, and Cogia Bachi or Primate. Thou friend of thy country ! to strangers record Why bear ye the yoke of the Ottoman Lord? Why bear ye these fetters thus tamely displayM, The wrorrgs of the matron, the stripling, and maid ? The descendants of Hellas's race are not ye I The patriot sons of the sage and the free, Thus sprung from the blood of the noble and brave, To vilely exist as the Mussulman slave ! Not such were the fathers your annals can boast, Who conquer'd and died fur ihe freedom you lost! Not such was your land in her earlier hour, The day-star of nations in wisdom and power ! And still will you thus unresisting increase, Oh shameful dishonour! the darkness of Greece? Then tell us, beloved Achcean ! reveal The cause of the woes which you cannot conceal. The reply of the PliileUenist I have not translated, as it is no better than the question of the travelling tri- umvirate; and the above will sufficiently show with what kind of composition the Greeks are now satisfied. I trust I have not much injured the original in the few lines given as faithfully, and as near the '.' Oh, Miss Bailey ! unfwtuQate Miss Bailey I" measure of the Romaic, as I could make them. Almost all their pieces, above a song, which aspire to the name of poetry, contain exactly the quantity of feet of " A captain bold of Halifax, who lived la country quartm," SCENE FROM 'O KAENE2. TRANSLATED FROM THE ITALIAN OF G0LD0NI, BY SPERIDION VLANTI. ZKHNH Kr'. ITAATZIAA eU rifv irdpTav tov, xavteu, kq\ ol avuiSsv. ITAA. ii Oet . airb to itapaOvpt ftoii i, ttf>8aaa ae ouv va t6v ^ivrpoTztdoia. [Kvyaivet cvas iovXos drd rb fpyacrripi ] UaXtKapttris pov ci izapaKaXu jrotos elvat (Kcl eh ixtlvovs Toi'i ovTaSts ; AOYA. Tpui xpi/cifioi av$pe$. "Evas b Kvp Efcy/rfOf, o oAXof b (top Mifprioc NaTroAira'i'oc, Kai b rphos b Kvp K6vt£ Aiavtpos 'ApdivTw. PAA. ( Avdfico-a f(? aVTovs $ii> uvat b ^Xa^itvtoSt av 3/iws H v aXXa&v Svopa.) AEA. Nu %jj i; KaXlj tvx^tov Kvp Evyevio*. (Tl(- vuivras-] OAOI. N« C5, vet g. IIAA. (Ayrustfrnt b at Apas fiov X^ptS aXXo.) KaXi avdpuiire Kdut uov tijv \apiv vd fit crvvTpoff>(ictov Tuiv 6ovXevtQv.) [TiV ift-d^it otto rd tpyaoTrjpi tov iratyvt- Stou.] PIA. Kapt^/d, KapStd, KdfiCTE KaXftv Kap6tdv, Siv ttvai TtiroTcq. |ITpoc7->> Birrtfotav.] BIT. 'Eyut aiaOdvouai tti2c dittQatvw* [Suv/pyerac £^5 tov favr/iv rjjs'.J [ Ard rd 7Tapd#upa twv ivTa^uv dtaivovrat '6Xot y birov at)Kuvu}vTat dit& to* Tpairi^i avyxtaytivoiy iid tov ^a^via\tbv tqv Atdvdpov pA/ruuraj r^v HXdr\,tda t Kai Start avrdi ^ei'^vfii nwy 5fAct vd tijv Aovevai/.] EYr. "Ox*, (TTaOnrc. MAP. Mitv Kdftv£TC. ■• AEA. EiVw, . IIAA. Bofjdtta> (for'/dcta. [ivya d^S Tqv CKaXav, b AiavApo$ StXtt vd tijv aKoXovOi'/aj] fit to oxadi, Kai 6 Evy. rbv /jfdord.] TPA. [Mt £va Vidro fit ayi els piav irtT^ira vt}S^ (tTrii to izapaSvpt y xai ^>evy£i eif rbv Kafytvi.] ITAA. [Evyatrti dffd to ipyatrrtjpi too jratyrt^iotJ Tpixwras, Kai o6y£.]* Oi AovXoi. [ Atto to fpyuQTt'ipt anepvovv e't$ rb x<* v h Kai kXuovv Tffv irrfpTar.] BIT. [Mmt ei's rbv Katptvi ffotj8t]uivT] dnb tqv *Pi- ZdXtpov.] AEA. Adctrt Td?roi' ' &iXu S/Aa Tijv btatytvrevatu wf ch rd bartpov at/ta. AEA. 2oD Kdftvu) 6'pKov irajj SiXu to fi£Tavotu>G}}(. [Kiv^y^ rbv 'Evytviov fit tu tntaOi] EYT. Aiv ai (boftovuat. [Kararpfx^i r ^ v Aiavtipov, Ka] rbv (itd^ct vd cvpdjj &nfoi*) r6cov, ojtoD cvplcKoivraf dvotKTOv rd airt}Tt Tijs xoptvrpiai ffi6aivct tl$ avrb t xal awverat,] TRANSLATION. Plaiiidafrom the Door of the Hotel, and the Other). Via. Oh God ! from the window it seemed that I heard my husband's voice. If he is here, I have arrived in time to make him ashamed. [A Servant enter i from • Vl»ekb»y, Prince of W«il»chii. * biyoi \fiTiviick, otrow $i"Xuva etfr;?* tpaye rait «rttyxt«j. 54 NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. Casto II. the Shop.] Boy, tell me, pray, who are in those chambers. Serv. Throe gentlemen: one, Signor Bugenio; the olher, Signor M irtio, the Neapolitan ; and the third; my Lord, the Count Leander Ardenti. Pta. Flaminio is not among these, unlrd in hand opposite Eugenio exclaims^ Give way — I will enter that hotel.] Eugenia. No, that shall never be. You are a scoun- drel tn your wife, and I will defend her to the last drop of tnv blood. leander. I will give you cause to repent this. [Me- nacing with his sword. ] ' Eugenio. I fear you not. [He attacks Leander, and makes him give back so much, that finding the door of the dancing girl's house open, Leander escapes through^ and wjiitishes.]* Zmi't pov. AKpitjl) uov t£i»X'V Ayuirqri uov, uKptGi uov, KapSir^a uov. 'Ayrfinj pov. A(-< i'i £&%ajM0T#ffi7f] va na- fiJJS TT(p(T7UI»J(T£i, ft*Ul IptXl- Kali ieflWes- Eyii eras tvxaptcrio, £«? yviopi^io \dptv. 23s ifpat inrdxpeoi Kara xoXXd. Eyto SiXui TO Kauti UCTU Mi bXt'iv pov rr)v Kapclav, Mi K'i\i}v uov Kap&tav. £ij ttpai Itt6x. EJutc ebytvtKQ's ko\ cv~poipcri ut. Brum me. Aavdatri uc. Lend me. Xltjyatvcrc vi ^rjrfioere. Go to seek. Twpa tbdbs. Now directly. T ii anptfti uov Kvpic, Kdptri My dear Sir, do me this ut avrfjv t!)v \dptv. favour, 'Eyut eras xapaKaAQ. I entreat you. > Ryu> vac c t {bpjcf£u. f conjure yon. 'Ey<*» oai to svw Sta xfyiv. I ^k * l ofyotl as a favour. Ynoxptuctri pt th rdaov. Oblige mc so much. Suvtrai- " ftoUbee"— awkwimlly rnoogt), hut il Isthr litcrnl trniu. Iniion of Hie lliininu-. Th,- original o( M » l oc*tr rend, bul it (loeii itoi npjiear one of hi* heil. "II Bueinnlo" i» one of the moii lively ; but I do nut tlnnk it hu been tran.tla.fed luia Romaic i II - much more n ■ than our own " Liar," bj Toole. Tlie chortCltl ol l.t'iin is better drawn than S*oun| Wlldlogi Ooldont'e comedlei an mi to lil'iy ; iome (>eih&pi the best in Kuropc, &tid utheri the WoraL Hia hf il alio one of the best specimens of autobiography, anil, n> < obaerred, " more dramatic ihun unv ■>( hi* plnya." The above teen wni select eil ai cttnUiiriiug •omc ol the mmt funUIar Rom:m: tdiome ( no for tiny wit which it displays, since there is more done than said, i!i gretiler part consisting of singe direction!. The original Is one of the f • v comedies by tiolduiil which ia without the buffoonery of the ipeakiug Harlequin. Adyta fpuTtKa, % ay&rns. Affectionate expressions. Say TraoaicaAuJ va ut utra- Xttpt^taOt IXetiBi a i, "X toots irtpiTToinati. l-i s ,iyuTii l\ SXns uov Kap- Sta s. Kai iyw bu6iuii. Ttuiioert ut rats Trpoaayats oae. v Ext T t rlrroTti va ut irpoo- ra\trt ; npoard^trt t6v SooAov eras;. WpoaphfD rai irpoaayuz otic. Mf Kdfiftri utydbriv tiutjv. •lOdiovv !} TTtptTroinaci aai trapaicaXioi TlpoGKvvfjctTt tKfiioovc: pov riv apx ovra t % T ^ v *Hptov, BtSatdtatrt rov ttuis rbv ivOv p.oupau HtSuttotrtTC. rbv TT(3y rbv ayairio, AfV SAui Aefi/'Ct va rov rb tlnti. TlpocKvvt'ipara in rijv ap- Xovnoaav. ITiiyatviTt ipxpocOa Kai adc aKoAovQio. ii j KaXa rH \pio( pov. y ll$tvppocv- vat$ Gas, 0{Xert AoiTrdi' va Kauta (ttav apx^ ornTa i 'Tirdyio iuirpooBa oia va oa$ ffVaKQVOUt Ai'i ill napM rijv npoffrayf/v aa$* &iv ayarrui rdcatc irtptnocn- r;;r tW/jOuav To (ell vou the truth. Oi*ru)s, iKjj tTiat. Really, it is so. Rotas (I/i0i6'iA,\f( ; Who doubts it '? A('c etvui iroffw; afAt6o\(a. There is no doubt. Td -i, ii^ rd n-urrstfu. I believe it, I do not believe it. Aiyta r& lit. T say yes. A/yoi rb ox'* I sa y "0. I! t W.i .T-f'\fn, r i flri cTvai. I wager it is. ^Xlr 1 * ^ r| ^ ^>' al ^ wager it is not so. Nui ftd 7rji- irforn pou. Yes, by my faith. Ei\" rijv cweUnatv fiov. In conscience. M ! r?)v v^-Ji' jiou. By my life. N'ii, o£; o/*viftf. Yes, I swear it to vou. 'iuu) idoiIv TCjuipfvos I swear to you as an honest 1 jToy. man. Saj o/nv'o hr&vu dg- r>iv\ swear to you on tnv rtftt'iv ftov. honour. Xltarct'tjtre fit. Believe me. 'HjurapcS i u it (>• rd fizSaiuHTU). I can assure you of it. "HOiXa tfaXn CTi^rjjiaj 8n I would lay what bet you SiXers did tqvtq please on this. Mi) rvxn *'" avrtfyoOt Your jest by chance? (XopardsT£\) O/nXctTc fii Tfi bXa ;thtav. *Eyt& Q$t]Ttv. I believe vou. tlpfirst va (t3j mars6aw. I must believe you. Aurd btv tlvdi aSvyarou. This is not impossible. To" Aoiirdv as tiVai //c xaAifi* Then it is very well. WOSI'. KaAa\ *aXA. Well, well. An- £?f«( «-\t/f?iviv. It is not true. ETvai ipev5es- If is false. Aff £?frt( rfs-ores o-i aird. There is nothing of this. E(Va( era i^eubog fiia andnj. It is a falsehood, an impos- ture. 'E)'u> aarct^ofiow (txoad~l was in joke. TEllrt.) 'Eyu> to uira $ta va ycXdtru). I said it to laugh. Tft aXti$slq\. Indeed. M* aoiact Kctra iroAAd. It pleases m? much. 2 try Kara vftfu n; roiiro, I agree with you. AjVu> Tiii' tpij^ov [iuv. I give my assent. iin AvrtorfKOftat eh touto. I do not oppose this. Ei/iai (tu'^^uji'us, tx cvfttpu>- 1 agree. you. 'Eyii Wv S/Aw. I will nnt 'Ey& ^airtwi'O/iai cf$ rouro. I object to this. Ai'i i ■■( Tu^6ouAeu0';f, va aro- To consult, consider, or re- Xoo-dni, h va anotyaaiam. solve. TtTrpfitct va KdftfHfitv\ What ought we to do ? 17 Sn Kduuftcv; What shall we do ? Tt fii trvpSouXevcrz va KiipM ; What do vou advise me to do? *Ojtq7ov rp6^ov $f\opzv fit- What part shall we take? T:i\C(nt(rO) fiptiii ; "A; K&fi&nzv ir^n* Let us do this. Eumi KaXfre^ov lyi vii Ii is hetier that I — "LraOrjTc dXlyov. W nt a little. Aiv i'i'h\cv elvai KaXfrzpov Would it not be better i i — thai — *F.yrifTtT[ ftr.. L'*t me go. *Av rj^iovv els rbv rfaov oa$ If I were in your place I — AtJyos* Kal 6 \6yoi Tjrov ptra Kat o Adyoy Ijv TTpS? ror Qtbv, Qeou' Kat Oioi rjrov o Atiyoj. Ka i Qebs ijv b \6yoq. 2.- Ovtos ^v tv apxjj rods rbv Qz6v. 3. Tlavra ?l avrov lyi* vera ' oi \) 'Itov rb 0ws rwv ai dptoirttiVt 5 Kai tu 0'jj tig T$jv OKOTttav ij't'yyci, Kat t) gkq- rtta StvTb K'tTii\n6e. 6. "Eytvzv tvas SvBgtairos aireo'TaXfiivai arzb rbv Qzd tu Svofid tov 'itadvvtjs. 4. Ei' avTu> t,ta^ Jfvj Kal >i %m\ ijv to (fids t£jv dvOpui- ittnv. 5. Ko! rd , bvojia altTv) 'lutdvvjjf. THE INSCRIPTIONS AT ORCHOMENUS, FROM MELETIUS. 'OrXOMEVO'S. KotvSs XkoittoP, UdXlS noTe' nXov- Guard™ ku\ iu)TdTT)y irpoTtpov KaXovftivn BoturiKni A6r}vat, tt$ Tiiv biroiuv ?,tov I Naos rail Xapirwv, eh rbv hirotov i-Xrjpuifoi' rtXn o'l Oi,Galot, oItivo$ rb e&atyos $£ fiuTc UTib ribv 'AanaXdyKtov. 'F-Travtiytipt^ov ll$ alr,)i. t>h> ITijAtv t« xapirfiGta y roB hirotov 'AyaivoS evpov £jriypaaviov AtoXevs dxb Kvpins. KiBaptaSbs* AnfifJTptos WapueriaKov KaX^nSdvtos. Tpaywbbs. 'InnoKpaTta 1 Apirjronivovi 'P6$to$, KaAAi'arp.iTos 1 F.£aK(7ra?os. QiSt eyUtav rbv vfipijTov dy&va twv bfioitatav. Iliii^as avXnaras. AiokA^s KaXXiftr}6ov Qtj6a7og. Qaidas )iycfi6i>a$. Xrparii'os Eiu'i'kou Gij6d?os. "A»i5pfis AuAtjtus. AioicAfj; KoAAt^^^ou Q^falos* "Ai^p'is tiyefitvas. 'PdviTTirog 'FqMttxqv *Apytios- Tpnyw'lds- 'iTTxoKpdrns Aotcra^ivovs 'V6&io$* KaXXloTparog 'E^awforou Gr/6atos. T« htvUta. KuitiadtSiv r7ocjr»)s- 'AAi^ai'^pos ^AptffWwvor ^A^^vaToj." 56 NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. Caxto II. 'Ev it rfi Irtpi/i rWpocdls. " Mfdtffl'h) clpX' JvT0 S &Yh>l>odcT(oVToS TOV Xaptrctatov, tvaptoarta tdvtw os rvct IviKiaVav rd j^apintria. ZaAmycras •MXtvos •I'iAc'vu) 'AOdvKOf. Kdpouf. VJnuit'ai IwKpdTioS Ot/Cciof. Itociruf. Mijurutp Mt'itrTnpos fatxattftft '?at//a«u0Qf a KpuTi^v KX/uii'os Oe/fiiio?. Ari,\f(7(i5. ncpiyet'ci$ 'HputrAefo'tio KouyKr/vdf. A t ^iruc'df. Aa/ii/ccros PXaifcu "Apyjoj, Kt0apf AfOcp. rt Mi'pi\o$ rioXi'«p«rouf ' Idoa'i'17/os Sioytra] 04 Svipsoat XopaytloavTts viKdoavrts iinvvaov iviBrfKav rlutavos apxovroi auXiovTOi /fA/05 tf&QVTQt iXxtcdiviuS* *Ev (Tspit) Af0} {.iovvoov Ka(ptao6a x'jpun'eta HUT TO yil'Vpl T 0uk£(C drrd Taj ffouyypadiw rd /tUTaXurrov *dr to ^dtfuaua rib cdfita, dvcAtf/uvof T(i{ O"orjyypu:0d>s t«s Ki/jevnf irdp aiaiXoi\ Ktj tvippova l>IIIOH "Apxocro; iv ip\optvb Svvdpxto, ptibs AXaXKouertta, /v it K iXarh) Mcvuirao A"\. , *,■("/ our dipttXirtj alirHi trt obQcv nap riiv iraXtv, riXX' drr/x* TT'iira Trept Travros, a;i*j (i7ro^£^«J(*r0i ri) ttiSXi rd exoircff '■"5 ofioX»yf(i4, c/ /i*i- jto ri $i&o[iii>oi> \p6vov Euu'uiXu fVt voptui K in dirfrrapa /ion'£(T(ri joi'ic TTTfrus cJta Karttfi F( Karl J7«o6'v TTpofiiirwi-, ki) riav iiy&v, k>I tu>v t$ov£}v, ki) Tutv IxwttiV, Ki/ Kartva doafialtav 31kij ri nXiidos fiel dttoyndtyiao J»Jt itXiava tUv yeypa/t- fitvtov iv Ttt couyx^P^t "7 &£KaTi$ 1} rd trvdfuov ]&v6ta\ov 6ltov doyuvpivt TCTTaodKOvra Eti6'(jAu kuo Ixaorov twtavrbvj Kij t6kov (ptpfTui c5pax/'"f Tr, f / n< *5 iKaarai Kara ficr.a tov Ktf ZjiirpaKTOS tarm rbv ipx°' pivtov ... . kui rd 1$}S* J Ev aXXots A/0015. ''\Avoi5iipa o-tc^opor Xfllpt.™ NOKYEE. tl KaXXUtruv d/i0$ j^ov TfJvov, ^ rrccC^a, 3 cS« fillets ixoypatpofitv, oi TuAticai »p9oi'yp«^9t'. Ka2 rd rf{ljf« The following is the pro^peclus of a translation of Anacharsis into Romaic, by nij Roi ir, ISIar- marotouri, who wished to publiso 11 in England. El^H'Etl TYIlorpA.MKH\ Uobi Tois h ^(Aoyo'Cij kq\ QtXlXXrivas. "OSOI tU ^ifiA/a itavTO&aitii ivTpv$oiv t if^tbpovv it6aov ttvai ri xp'' Ti t au}ptv tovs 'AAAoyetfif, ii^d'povv vd fids 6ti>aovv S\tfi6vov \cToptKux; rifv &px^ v Kai T ' l¥ irpdo&ov Ttav itpoy&iwv jj.k, dXAd (tul TOffoypa^ncdif fid% Sttxvovv rtij 6totts t(3v fI(iTp/f3wi' pas, Kat oUvti x tl P a ~ ytayoi ynAftnoi fit tgvs ytu)yo /j iiTru'prrj, ikci a\ Or)6ai t r6aa aru&ta 1) f/lXta dv(\ct ff fila 'Errapx/a drd Ti}v XXXijv. To9ro{ uncui}.6(ti)' ''S ^ a 5) ^^£1' iTTiipaicii'/jOiJO'ai' vd ^£p£i'iii(Toui/ dpx"f nicor ffoAutdf, &vvirotTT6Xu>$ fiat iiroKplvomt fii airovs tous \6yov$, " KaQCts f> ik 1>u- Qia$ *Ai-«'x'*pra> vut b fjuirepos ^lurpOf, ac rlc'v ifidt'Oavc rd tov 'iTTitoKpdrovf, iiv it 6wtt vd TT0i\<.>'ii/iTr; ((( n'/c r fx vt l v TOV > *Av k iv l/utv No/10- "/, Mi /' s f r.^- , rd ro3 EtfXuvaf 1 Aoirot/pyov, *r«ii riirrawoP, 5«v Hvvaro vd fivOpijcti Kai va KaXupy^c'i rd tjdif t&v 'Ofioyivuiv tov ' Hvb'YJJTWpoh ivfi»6i%ITO rds (t^pudtiuj «a£ rows \» Atcpoar&v tov ■ 'Av 6 N^os 'Aw/* Y'lOffic. /» KuplOj A'.' ts I' "if/uAo/inios fJfv dKy/vwffJf£ /it fttydXriv bripoviiv teal trxfipiv tabt rXiov iyKpirovs Ecy- ypa^j£i{ rfiy ' EXXijvwW) U-spatviav avro&s Kara 0dQo$ int TptaKQVTa iSutl) (>'/, ('('l' //fiAEV i^vpdl-T] TOVTTfV TtJV VCpl 'EAAfJi'aiv 'loTop/ai' tov, 'ifTti rifpi»/y77fiev vd fidBmficv r>)v itpdohov Kai afyiolv Ttav th rJj Ttjft*S "MM 'BfflffTljpaj 5. 'H/i£is ovv oi vitoytypaufi(voi SiXoutv iKTtXiati irpoBv- fitas H/V fitTtityptatv tov UttiXtov fii ti)v Kara to r^ovaroV I'lfi'tv KaXjJv tppdotv Ttjs vuv KaB" ffuds hutXlas', Kai ^Ks Vtuypa- tftiKOVi WvaKas pi urtXds ' Pot fiat* d$ Xi£cc{ tyKtxapayfii- vovs tU l&iKdfias ypdfifiara, rpoartdivrtf b~Tl aXXo 'Xptjoifiov Kai upfiddiov th ri)v ' Icroplav. *OAov rb aiyypapua SiXtt yfitt th Tdfiovi SuStKtt Kara filuifatv Tr){ *lTaXiciJ$ Uidctias. 'H ti/ij) SAov rov 'Svyypdfiuaros thai iop(vta btKalfy rijf Bthi'ns ^*d rffv irpocQi'/Ktfv Ttiv yctayoav xtvdxtav. 'O 0(Aoycv()> Cf Zvvhpoyjrrhi itpintt va xXnptaQT} th KdQt T6uov 0iopfvt £va Kai Kapavravia ttKoet rfc Bt/w^s, Kai tovto xwpis Kafi uiav Ttp6fioatv : dAA' titdvi bttov SiXci rd itapaisoBfi It T^ftvi rvnwftlvoi Kai btjtlvoi. Canto III. NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. 57 'E|>jju)/)v Hai6ts- Tijs {'[icripai aydTTijs i^nornphot ^loidvvns MapfiapoTovpns. Eirvoibiiiv HnrfUroi. \Ev TpicdWu), Tt} TrpuJrp 'OKrufipwu, 1799. THE LORD'S PRAYER IN ROMAIC. 11 IIATE'PA MAS 6 w/»B iltrat tls rovs ovpavovg, ag iyi'tofrfi tu Uvofid aov *Aj cX&t) !/ fiaaiXtia aov. "A? yoit) to $iXmid aov, KitQS>s ds rou ovpavdv, erlfl Kut tls Tu^'tuftiVaf tq KaOnficpivOv, Sos pas rb aiHitpov. Kut ouy\uiaiit' 6 fv Tots ovpmolSj aytaaOt'iToi to SifOfid ll*h- arjfttpov- K-ua0es '/fi" rd ^(ptt^/' l |i.^ri. ■'•'<< dffJ row Tra(-m>oD. "On uou ftrru- 17 jiiaiXttu, cal 1} ^uftt/iij, (cai y (5r shelter during a temnest. On gaining the shore at St. Gingo, I found that the wind had been sufficiently strong to blow flown some fine old chestnut-trees on the lower part of the moun- tains. On the opposite height of Clarens is a chateau. The hills are covered with vineyards, and interspersed with some small but beautiful woods; one of these was named the " Bosquet de Julie," and it is remarkable that, though lontj a^o cut down |>v the brutal selfishness of the monks of St, Bernard. (io whom the land apper- tained,) that the ground might he enclosed into a vine* yard for the miserable drones of an execrable supersti- tion, the inhabitants of Clarens still point out the spot where its trees stood, calling it by the name which con- secrated and survived them. Rousseau has not been particularly (ordinate in the preservation of the " loeal habitations" he has given to "airy nothings." The Prior of Great St. Bernard has cut down some of his woods for the sake of a few i asks of wine, and Buonaparte has levelled part ofthe rocks of Meillerio in improving the road to the Stmplon. The roac* is an excellent one, but I cannot quite agree »vith a remark which I heard made, that " La route Vaut mieux que les souvenirs." Lausanne! and Ferneyl ye have been the abodes. Stanza cv. line I. Voltaire and Gibbon. 24. Had I not filed my mind i which thus itself subdued. Stanza cxiii. line last. ' If it he thus. For Bautjuo's issue have \ Jiled my mind." Machelk. 25. O'er others' griefs that some sincerely grieve. Stanza cxiv. line 7. It is said by Rochefoucault that " there is always something in the misfortunes of men's best friends not displeasing to them." NOTES TO CANTO IV. I. / stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs ; A palace and a prison on each haiui. Stanza i. lines 1 and 2. The communication between the ducal palace ana the prisons of Venice is by a gloomy bridge, or covered gallery, high above the water, and divided by a stone wall into a passage and a cell. The state dungeons, called " pozzi," or wells, were sunk in the thick walls of the palace; and the prisoner when taken out to die was conducted across the gallery to the other side, and being then led back into the other compartment, or cell, upon the bridge, was there strangled. The low portal through which the criminal was taken into this cell is now walled up; hut the passage is still open, and is still known by the name ofthe Bridge of Sighs. The pozzi are under the Mooring of the chamber at the foot ofthe bridge. They were formerly twelve, but on the first arrival of the French, the Venetians hastily blocked or broke up the deeper of these dungeons. You may still, however, descend by a trap-door, and crawl down through holes, half-choked by rubbish, to the depth of two stories below the first range. If you are in want of consola- tion for the extinction of patrician power, perhaps you may find it there; scarcely a ray of light glimmers into the narrow gallery which leads to the cells, and the places of confinement themselves are totally dark A small hole in the wall admitted the damp* air of the passages, and served for the introduction of the pri- soner's food. A wooden pallet, raised a foot from the ground, was the only furniture. The conductors tell you that a light was not allowed. The cells are about five paces i.i length, two and a half in width, and seven feet in height. They are directly beneath one another, and respiration is somewhat difficult in the lower holes. Only one prisoner was found when the republicans descended into these hideous recesses, and he is said to have been confined sixteen years. But the inmates ofthe dungeons beneath had left traces of their repent- ance, or of their despair, which are still visible, and may perhaps owe something to recent ingenuity. Some of the detained appear to have offended against, and others to have belonged to, the sacred body, not only from their signatures, but from the churches and belfries which they have scratched upon the walls. The reader may not object to see a specimen of the records prompted by so terrific a solitude. As nearly as they could be copied by more than one pencil, three of them are as follows : 1. NON TI FIDAR AD ALCCNO PENSA e TACT SE FUGIR VUOr DE SPIOW1 1NSIDIF. e LACCI IL PENTIRTI PF.NTIRTI NULLA GIOVA MA BEN DI VALOR TUO LA VERA PROVA 1607 adi 2. GE.xino. fui re. TENTO P' LA BEST1EMMA P' AVER DATO DA MANZAR A UN MORTO IACOMO . GRITTI . SC&IS9E. n TJN PARLAR POCHO et NEGARE PRONTO et UN PENSAR AL FINE PUO BARE LA VITA A NOI ALTRI MESCHINI 1605 60 NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. Carto IV. ECO IOHS BAPTISTA AD ECCLESIAM CORTELLAHU B. 3. DE CHI MI FIDO GUARDAMI DIO DE CHI NON Ml FIDO MI GUARDARO 10 A TA H A XA V . EA S . C . K . R . The copyist has followed, not corrected the solecism ■ ; gome of h fuch are how 1 1 ei do) qi ihe letters were evidently scratched in the dark, it only need be ob beatemmia and nronj he read in the first inscription, which wflts probabl) written by a prisoner confined for softie act ot impiet) commuted at a funeral; lliat C>rtd!unus is tl> of a parish on terra firm a, near the sea; and that the Last initials evidently are putfor Viva la santa Ckiesa i RomancL Site looks a sea Cybclr, fresh / Rising with, fu i it a Stanza ii. lines I and 2. An old writer, describing the appearance of Venice, I I ■ use of the above imago, whii h would not be I Lical were it not true. •• QuoJU ut qui supernc urbcm r.onlcmpUtur, turritam . m mt l\ • i ino figUToiam s< putet inspi- cerc."* 3. In Venice Tassd's echoes are no more. Stanz i iii. line 1. The well-known song of the gondoliers, o! alternate from Tasso's Jerusali m, has died with the independence of Venire. Editions of the poem, with inal on one column, and the Veneti in i a i sung by the b tatmen, were or i om- in m md are Btill to be found. 1 he fo ■ ■■ ing • ■ , u I will serve • difference between Ihe Tuscan epic and the " Canta alia Barcariola." ORIGINAL, Canto 1' arme pietose, e 'I capitano Che '1 gran Sepolcro Liberb di Cri to Mold i egli oprb i ano, e con la mano Molto sofiri m i gloi \ »so acquisto ; E in van I' Infi rno a tui >' oppose, e in vano S' armb d' Am, o di Libia il popol misto, Che il Ciel gli die favore, e soltQa i Sauti Segni ridusse i sum compagni erranti. VENETIAN. L 1 arme pietose de cantar gho vogia, E de Goffredo la immortal braura Che al fin P ha libera co strassia, e dogia Del nostra buon ' iesti la Sepoltura De m ■/ > in mdo unito, e de que] B <_ ia Mis -i -r Pltiton non r ha bu m ii p Di » 1' ha asiutd, e i c pag li »p u pagnai Tuiti '1 gh i ha messi insieme i di del Dai. Soul- ni" i l i<- t-'il-T ■..' hi lo! owever, take up ami c ue s stan ;a ol th ii once familiar bard On the 7ili of las) January, the author of Childe Harold, and another Engli »hman, the « i iter of this rowed lo the Lido with two sin 'crs, one of whom i carpenter, and i he other i gond ilicr, Thi I n mi r Ktaoed himself at the prow, the lattei tern of the oat A little after leaving the quay of the Piazzetla they began I il inin d Iheii exei ci b un i] we arrii i .i ■'.. . and. Th iy gave essays, the death of Clorinda, and th i of irmida; and did not Bing the Venetian, bill the Tuscan, verses. The carpenter, however, who was the cleverer ol the two, and was frequen ■. obliged to prompt his compa- nion, told us that he could translate the original. He added, that In- could sing mini..-! three hundred stanzas, [mi had not spirits [morbin waa the word he used) to learn anj more, or to sing wharf be already knew: a man must have idle bine on his hands to acquire, or to repeat, and, said the poor fellow, "looJt at my clothes ami al me; I am starving. 11 This speech was more * IVUrcl Anlonil SabeUi de Venet« Urtia eitu n&rraUo, edit. Taurtfl. \$n, lib », foi.m than his performance, which habit alone can make attractive. The recitative was shrill, aer< and monol ius, and the gondolier behind assisted his iroice by holding Ins hand Lo one side of hie mouth. b quiet action, which he evidi nt y rain; but was too much. interested in bis subject altogether to repress. From these men : thai singing is nol confined to the gondotiere, and that, although the chum is seldom, if ever, voluntary, e still several amongst the lower classes who [jointed w ith a few stan: as. not appear that it is usual for the performers ron and sing at the Ban i lime Although thi ■ of the Jerusalem are no long* i casually heard, there is yet much music upon the Venetian canals; and lolydaj thosi sn angers who are not near or inl enough lo di tinguish the words, may fancy that many iH res Hind with the strains of T« The writer of some remarks which appeared in ihe ies of Literature must excuse his being twice quoted; for, with the exception of some phrases a little too ambili ravagant, he has furnished a very exact, as well as agreeable, description. "In Venice the gondoliers know by heart ton sag< - from Ariosto and Tasso, and often chant them wnJi a pecutiai melody, Bui this talent seems al pre- senton the decline: — at least, after taking sonic pains, 1 could find no more than two persons who delivered !■■> Me' iH llns w;iv a passage t"n>in Tasso. I must add, that the late Mr. Berrj once chanted lo me a passage H, 1 '.. io in ilu manner, as he assured me, of the gon- doliei ■- " There are always two concerned, who alternately sing the strophes. We know the melody eventually by Rousseau, to whose songs il is printed; it has properly no melodious movement, and is a sort of moduli twecn the canto fersao and the canto figurato; il ap- proaches to the Ebrmei b) recitativical declamation, and to the latter b ind course, by which one syllable is detained and em " 1 entered a gondola b^ moonlight; one singer placed himself forwards, and th< other an, and thus pro to St. Qeorgio. One beean the song: when he had ended his Btrophe, the other took up the lay, and so continued the song alternately Throughout trie whole of it, the same notes invariably returned, but, according to the subject matter of the strophe, they laid a greatei ,.r a simliri sirrss, s.'iiii hnn - mi un--, a -oim linn -■ on another note, and indeed ehan^ed the rniineiaiiun nf the whole atropne as the object of the poem altered. "On tin 1 whole, however, the Bounds wore hoarse anc, screaming : they seemed, in the manner of all rude un- civilized men, to make the excellency of their singing m the '■'"■' , "i their voice: one seemed desirous of con- quering the other by ihe strength of his lungs; and so far from receiving delight from this scene (shut up as I was in the box "i die gondola,) 1 found myself in a very unpleasant situation. "My companion, '<> whom I communicated Ihia cir- nC0) Q«ing verj desirous to keep np the credit «-f his countrymen, assured me thai this singing was very deh>h(fiil when heard at a distance. Accordingly we got out upon the Bhore, leaving one of the aingei gondola, while the othorwenl to the distance of some hundred pat es, Th< j aov< i i gan to sine against one another, and I kept walking up and down between them both, so as always to leave lum who was to begih 1 par'. I frequently stood still and hearkened to the OBe ami to 'lie other. "Here ihe scene was properly introduced. The strong declamatory, and, aa it were, shneking aoaod, mrt the ear from far, and called forth the attention; the quickly succeeding transitions, which necessarily re. ,|M ,, ,| to i"' sung in a loww tone, set mod tike plaintive strains succeeding the vociferations ol emotion or of pain. Theother, who listened attentively, immediately began where the former lefi oil", answering him in milder vehement nous, according as the purport of the strophe required The sleepy canals, the lofiy buildings, tin- splendour of the moon, the deep shadows of the few gondolas thai moved like spirits hither and thither, increased the striking peculiarity of the sceno ; Can-to IV. NOTES TO CIIILDE HAROLD. 61 and amidst all these circumstances it was easy to con fess 'he character of this wonderful harmony. '• It suits perfectly well with an idle, solitary mariner, tying at length in his vessel at rest on one of these canals, waiting for his company, or for a fare, ihe tire- someness of which situation is somewhat alleviated by the songs anrl poetical stories he has in memory. He often raises his voire as loud as he can, which extends itself to a vast distance over the tranquil mirror, and as all is still around, he is, as it were, in a solitude in the midst uf a large and populous town Here is no rattling of carriages, no noise of foot passengers ■ a silent gon- dola glides now and then by him, of which the Bplashings of the oars are scarcely to be heard. "At a distance he hears another, perhaps utterly unknown u, him. Melody and verse immediately attach the two Strangers: he becomes the responsive echo to the form -r, and exerts himself to be heard as he had heard the other. By a tacit convention they alternate ; though the song should last the whole night through, they entertain themselves without fatigue : the hearers, who are passing between the two, take part in the amusement. Phia vocal performance sounds best at a great dis- tance, and is then inexpressibly charming, as it only fulfils its design in the sentiment of remoteness. It is plaintive, but not dismal in its sound, and at times it is scarcely possible to refrain from tears. My companion, who Otherwise was not a very delicately organized laid i|uite unexpectedly: e singolare come quel canto intenerisce, e molto piii quando Io cantano meglio. " I was told that the women of Libo, the long row of islands that divides the Adriatic from the Lagouns * particularly the women of the extreme districts of Ma- lamocco and Palestrina, sing in like manner the works of Tasso to these and similar tunes. '* They have the custom, when their husbands are fishing out at sea, to sit along the shore in the evenings and vociferate these songs, and continue to do so with great violence, till each of them can distinguish the responses of her own husband at a distance "f The love of music and of poetry distinguishes all classes of Yen. nans, even amongst the tuneful sons of Italy, The city itself can occasionally furnish respect- able audiences for two and even three opera-houses at a time ; and there are few events in private life that do no' rail forth a printed and circulated sonnet. Does a physician or a lawyer take his degree, or a clergyman preach his maiden sermon, has a surgeon performed an in, would a harlequin announce bis departure or his benefit, are you to be congratulated on a marriage or a birth, or a lawsuit, the Muses are invoked to furnish the same number of syllables, and the individual triumphs blaze abroad in virgin \\ Iiite or party-coloured phi- ails on half the corners of the capital. The last courtesy of a favourite "prima donna" brings down a shower of these poetical tributes from those upper re- gions, from which, in our theatres, nothing bul cupids and snow-storms are arcustomed to descend. There is a poetry in the very life of a Venetian, which, in its common course, is varied with those, surprises and changes so recommendable to fiction, but so different from the sober nunc tony o r northern existence; amuse- ments are raised into duties, duties are sofiened into amusements, and every object being considered as equally making a part of the business of life is an- I and perform/d with the same earnest indiffer- ence and gay assiduity. The Venetian gazette con- stantly closes its columns with the following triple adver- tisement. Charade. Exposition of the most Holy Sacrament in the church of St. Theatres. St. Moses, opera. • The writer meant Lido, which ts not n long row of Utanili, but a long iitand : lilttu, the shore. + Curin.itiei of Literal. ire, vol. H. p. 156, edit. 1807 : and Apnethii* iw\j to Bltek't Mfc of Tumo. !**«"*- St. Benedict, a comedy of characters. St. Luke, repose. When it is recollected what the Catholics believe their consecrated wafer to be, we may perhaps think it worthy of a more respectable niche than between poetry and the play-house. 4. Sparta hath many a worthier son than he. Stanza x. line 5. The answer of the mother of Brasidas to the stran- gers who praised the memory of her son. 5. St. Mark yet sees his lion where he stood Stand, Stanza xi. line 5. The lion has lost nothing by his journey to the Inva- lides but the gospel which supported the paw that is now on a level with the other foot. The horses also are returned to the ill-chosen spot whence they set out, and are, as before, half hidden under the porch of St. Mark's church. Their history, afier a desperate struggle, has been satisfactorily explored. The decisions and doubts of Krizzo and Zanetti, and lastly, <>f the Count Leopold Cicognara, would have given them a Roman extraction, and a pedigree not more ancient than the reign of Nero. But M. de Schlegel stepped in to teach the Venetians the value of their own treasures, and a Greek vindi- cated, at last and for ever, the pretension of his coun- trymen to this noble production.* Mr. Mustoxidi has not been left without a reply ; but, as yet, he has re- ceived no answer. It should seem that the horses are irrevocably Chian, and were transferred to Constan- tinople by Theodosius. Lapidary writing is a favourite play of the Iialians, and has conferred reputation on more than one of their literary characters. One of the best specimens of Bodoni's typography is a respectable volume of inscriptions, all written by his friend Pacci- audi. Several were prepared for the recovered horses. It is io be hoped the best was not selected, when the following words were ranged in gold letters above the cathedral porch. QUATUOR * EQL'ORUM ' SIGNA A* ' VENETIS ' BT- ZANTIO • l APT A ■ AD * TEMP ■ D ' M AR * A ' R "S ■ MCCIY* POSITA • HVK ■ HOSTII.IS • CDPIDITAS ' A ■ MDCCIIIC * AESTULERAT * FRASC * I ' IMP ' PACIS ' ORBI " DATA: TROPH.EUM • A * MDCCCXT ' VICTOR ■ REDUXIT. Nothing shall be said of the Latin, but it may be permitted to observe, that the injustice of the Venetians in transporting the horses from Constantinople was at least equal to that of the French in carrying them to Paris, and that it would have been more prudent to have avoided all allusions to either robbery. I An apos- tolic prince should, perhaps, have objected to affixing over the principal entrance of a metropolitan church an inscription having a reference to any other triumphs than those of religion. Nothing less than the pacifica- tion of the world can excuse such a solecism. 6. The Su l ian med t and now Hie Austrian reigns — An Emperor tramples where an Emperor knelt. Sianza xii. lines 1 and 2. After many vain efforts on the part of the Italians entirely to throw off (be yoke of Frederic Barbarossa, and as fruitless attempts of the emperor to make himself absolute master throughout the whole of his Cisalpine dominions, the bloody struggles of four and twenty years were happily brought to a close in the city of Venice. The articles of a treaty had been previously agreed upon between Pope Alexander III. and Barba- rossa, and the former having received a safe conduct, had already arrived at Venice from Ferrara, in company with the ambassadors of the king of Sicily and the con- suls of the Lombard league. There still remained, however, many points to adjust, and for several days the peace was believed to be impracticable. At this • a ui qui .*.ro cavh,'i della Sasilica i. S. Marco in Veneila Lettera dl indre* W^itixid"' Coreirw*. Partw», per BVtoni e compag. .. 1616. 62 NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. Carto IV. juncture it was suddenly reported thai the Emperor had arrived at Chioza, a town fifteen miles from the eapn;il The Venetians rose tumultuou.sly, and inaiati d upon immediately conducting him to the city. The Lombards took the alarm, and departed towards Treviso, The Pope himself was apprehensive of somi disaster ii Frederic should suddenly advance upon him, but was reassured by the prudence ami address of Sebastian Ziani, the Doge. Si'Vral einbas-u.s pas>.d between Chioza and the capital, until, al last, the Emperor re- hudiu somewhat of his pretensions, "laid aside his leonine ferocity, and pul on the mildness "1 the lamb,"* On Saturday the '23d of July, in the yeai 1177, six Venetian galleys transferred Frederic, in great pomp, from Chioza to the island of Lido, a mile from Venice. Early the nexl morning the Pope, accompanied hy the Sicilian ambassadors, and by the envoys of Lombardy, Whom he had recalled from llie main land, together with a great concourse of people, repaired from the patriar- chal palace to St. Mai k's church] and solemnly absolved die Emperor an. I his partisans from the excommunica- tion pronounced against him. The Chancellor ol the Empire, on the part of his master, renounced the anti- popes and their schismatic adhen nts. Immediately Uje Doge, with a great suite both of the clergy and laity, fot on board the gallej , and waiting on Frederic, rowed im in mighty state from the Lulu io the capital. The Emperor descended from the galley at the quay of the Piazzetta. The Doge, the patriarch, his bishops and clergy, and the people of Venice with their crosses and their standards, marched in solemn procession before him to the church of Saint Mark. Alexander was seated before the vestibule of the basilica, attended by his bishops and cardinals, by the patriarch of Aquileja, by the archbishops and bishops of Lombardy, all of them in state, and clothed in their church robes. Fred«-ne approached — "moved by the Holy Spirit, venerating the Almighty in the person of Alexander, laying aside his imperial dignity, and throwing off his mantle, he prostrated himself at full length at the feet of the Pope. Alexander, with tears in his eyes, raised him being- nantly from the ground, kissed him, blessed him ; and immediately the Germans of the tram sang, with aloud voice, ' We praise thee, O Lord.' The Emperor then taku the Pope by the right hand, led him to the chunm, and having received Ins benediction, returned to the ducal palar.e."| The ceremony oi humiliation was repeated the next day. The Pope himself, at the request of Frederic, said mass at St. Mark's, The Em- peror again laid aside his imperial mantle, and, taking a wand m his hand, officiated as verger, driving the laity from the choir, and preceding the pontiff to the altar. Alexander, after reciting the gospel, preached to the people. The Emperor put himself close to the pulpit in the attitude of listening; and the pontiff] touched by this mark of his attention, for he knew that Frederic aid noi understand a word he said, commanded the patriarch of Aquileja to translate lheLaluidiseour.se into the German tongue. The creed was then chanted. Frederic made his oblation and kissed the Pope's feet, and, mass being over, led him by the hand to Ins white horse. He held the stirrup, and would hive led the horse's rein to the water side, had not the Pope ac- cepted of the inclination for the performance, ami affec- tionately dismissed bun with Ins benediction. Such is the substance of the account left by the archbishop of Salerno, who was present at the ceremony, and whose story is confirmed by every Bubsequi nl narration. It would be not worth so minute a record, were it not the triumph of liberty as well as of superstition. The states of Lombardy owed to it the continuation of their privi- leges; and Alexander had reason in thank the Almighty, who had enabled an infirm, unarmed old man, to subdue a, terrible and potent sovereign. J " " (1'iibus audit)*, imperator, opcrante to, cm I cordn pHnclpum sicut vuU el quaodo full humlHtar Incllnal, leonine (tmtte dapoatta, ovinatn mnntiiettidinem i ml nil." Komualdi SnK-niitaoi Chrouicon. apm! Script. Rt. lul.Tom. Vll.p.Stt. t IMd. p. '231. J BaaUwabova cited RomnnM ufSnlemo. In « second iermon which Alaxandti | ., ifti in-.], on the ftril day of Ausutt, before the Emperor, b compared Frederic io the prodigal ton, iuid hunielf to the forgiving lather . Oh } for one hour of blind old Dandolo ! Th 1 octogenarian chi'J, Byzantium's conquering foe. Stanza xii. lines 8 and 9 The reader will recollect the exclamation of the bighlander, Oh j«r one hour of Dundee! Henry Dau- dolo, when elected Doge, in 1192, was eighty*nV< of age. When he commanded the Venetians at the taking of Constantinople, ho was consequently ninety- Seven years old. At this age he annexed thq fourth and a half of the whole empire of Romania,* for so the Roman en. jure was then called, to the title and to the U rritories of the Venetian Doge. The three-eighths of - ., empiri were preserved in the diplomas until the dukedom of Giovanni Dolfino, who made use of the above designation in the year 1357. f Dandolo led the attack on Constantinople in person: two ships, the Paradise and the Pilgrim, were tied to- gether, and a drawbridge or ladder hi down from their higher yards to the walls. The Doge was one of the first to rush into the city. Then was completed, said the Venetians, the prophecy of the Erythraean sibyl. "A gathering together of the powerful shall be made amidst the waves ot ihe Adriatic, under a blind leader; they shall beset the goat — they shall profane Byzantium — they shall blacken her buildings — her spoils shall be dispersed ; a new goat shall bleat until they have mea- ni rj mit and run over fifty-four feet, nine inches, and a half"J Dandolo died on the first day of June, 1205, having reigned thirteen years, six months, and five days, and was buried in the church of St. Sophia, at Constanti- nople. Strangely enough it must sound, that the name of the rebel apothecary who received the Doge's sword, and annihilated the ancient government, in 1 796—7, was Dandolo. 8. But is not Dorias menace come to pass ? Axe they not bridled? Stanza xiii. lines 3 and 4 After the loss of the battle of Pola, and the taking ot Chioza on the 16th of August, 1379, by the united armament of the Genoese and Francesco da Carrara, Signor of Padua, the Venetians were reduced to the Utmost despair. An embassy was sent to the conquerors with a blank sheet of paper, praying them to prescribe what terms they pleased, and leave to Venice only hei independence. The Prince of Padua was inclined to bsiin to Uiese proposals, but the Genoese, who afler the victory at Pola, had shouted " to Venice, to Venice, and long live St. George, 1 ' determined to annihilate theil rival, and Peter Doria, their commander in chief, re- turned this answer to the suppliants : " On God's faiih, gentlemen of Venice, ye shall have no peace Jiom the Signor of Padua, nor from our commune of Genoa, until we have first put a rein upon those unbridled horses of yours, that are upon th-- porch of your evangelist St. Mark. When we have bridled them, we shall keep you quiet. And this is the pleasure of us and of your com- mune. As for these my brothers nf Genoa, that you have brought with you to give up to us, I will not have them : take them hack ; for, in a few days hence, I shall come and lei ih< m out of prison myself*, both these ,ercir>itint, qua; hnnc ob can dam rliulurnn forecredilur."— 6te ik Principaiibu* lull*, Tractatui «lit. 1631. and too despotic government ; they think only on their vanished independence. They pine away at the re- membrance, and on this subject suspend ibr a moment their gay good humour. Venice may be said in the words of the Scripture, "to die daily ;" and so general and so apparent is the decline, as to become painful to a stranger, not reconciled to the sight of a whole nation expiring as it were before his eyes. So artificial a creation, having lost that principle which called it into life and supported its existence, must fall to pieces at once, and sink more rapidly than it rose. The abhor- rence of slavery which drove the Venetians to the sea, has, since their disaster, forced ihem to the land, where Ihev may be at least overlooked amongst the crowd ol dependents, and not present the humiliating spectacle of a whole nation loaded with recent chains. Their liveliness, their affability, and that happy indifference which constitution alone can give, for philosophy aspires to it in vain, have not sunk under circumstances; but many peculiarities of costume and manner have by degrees been lost, and the nobles, with a pride common to all Italians who have been masters, have not been persuaded to parade their insignificance. That splen- dour winch was a proof and a portion of their power, they would not degrade into the trappings of their sub- jection. They reiired from the space which they had occupied in the eyes of their fellow-citizens ; their continuance in which would have been a symptom of acquiescence, and an insult to those who suffered by tho common misfortune. Those who remained in the de- graded capital might be said rather to haunt the scenes of their departed power, than to live in them. The reflection, " who and what enthrals," will hardly bear a comment from one who is, nationally, the friend and the ally of the conqueror.- It. may, however, be allowed to say thus much, that to those who wish to recover their independence, any masters must be an object of detestation; and it may be safely foretold that this unprofitable aversion will not have been corrected before Venice shall have sunk into the slime of her choked canals. 11. Redemption rose up in the Attic ]\fuse. Stanza xvi. line 3. The story is told in Plutarch's life of Nicias. 12. And Otway, RadclijTc^ Schiller, Shakspeare's art. Stanza xviii. line 5. Venice Preserved ; Mysteries of Udolpho ; the Ghost- seer, or Armenian; the Merchant of Venice; Othello. 13. But from their nature will the tannen grow fytfticst on loftiest and least sheltered rocks. Stanza xx. lines 1 and 2. Tannen is the plural of tanne, a species of fir peculiar to the Alps, which only thrives in very rocky parts, where scarci ly soil sufficient for its nourishment can be found. On these spots it grows to a greater height than any other mountain tree. 14. A sin ' star LS at her side, and reigns JVith her o'er half the lovely heaven. Stanza xxviii. lines 1 and 2. The above description may seem fantastical or ex- aggerated to those who have never seen an Oriental or an Italian sky, yet it is but a literal and hardly sufficient delineation of an August evening (the eighteenth) as contemplated in one of many rides along the banks of the Brenta near La Mira. 15. Watering the tree which bean his lady's name IVith his melodious tears, he gate himself to fame. Stanza xxx. lines S and 9. Thanks to the critical acumen of a Scotchman, we now know as little of Laura as ever.* The discoveries of the Abbe de Sade, his triumphs, his sneers, can no ' See an Historical ami Critical Esiay on the Life and Character o 64 NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. Cakto IV. longer instruct or amuse.* Wo must not, however, think that these memoirs are as much a roffl Belisarius or the Ineas, although we ore told so by Dr. Beattie, a great name, but a little authority.! His "labour" has not been m vain, notwithstanding his "love" has, like most oilier passions, made biro ridicu- lous .' The hypothesis which overpowered the strug- gling Italians, and carried along leafl interested critics in us current, is run out. We nave another proof thai we 'in lie never sure that the paradox, the tnosl singular, ami therefore having the mosl agreeable and authentic an, will nut give place U) tin- re-established ancient prejudiee. It seems, then, first, that Laura was born, lived, died, and was buried, not in Aviynon, but in the country. The fountains of Hi.- s irga, iii" thickets of Cabrien -, may resume their pretensions, anil the exploded de la B tslie again be beard with rnmpla- ■> -it* v. The hypo thesfs of the Abbe had no stronger props than the parchrntnl sonnet ami medal found on the skeleton of the wile of Hugo de Sade, and the manuscript D ite to the Virgil of Petrarch, now in the Ambrosian library. It' these proofs were burn incontestable, the poetry was written, l he medal eoiiiposi-d, cast, and deposited within the space of twelve hours: and these deliberate duties were performed round the carcass of one who died of the plague, and was hurried to the grave on the day of her death. These documents, therefore, are too decisive : they prove not the faet, but the forgery. Either the sonnet or the Virgilian note must be a falsi- fication. The Abbe cites both as incontestably true ; the consequent deduction is inevitable — they are both evidently false. § Secondly, Laura was never married, and was a haughty virgin rather than thai tender and prudent wife who honoured Avignon by making that town the theatre of an huie-sl French pa.ssi.m, and plaved otf for one and twenty years her little machinery of alternate favours and refusalsj| upon the first poet of the age. It was, iii'li'i-'!, ra'lier too unfair Ilia! a female should be made responsible fir eleven children upon the faith of a mis- interpret eil abbreviation, and the decision ofa UDrarian.1T It is, however, satisfactory to think that the love of Petrarch was not platonic. Tin- happiness which he prayed to possess but once and for a momenl was surely not of the mind,** and something so very n marriage project, with one who has been idly Called a shadowy nymph, may be, perhaps, detected in at least six places ofhu own sonnets, ft The love of Petrarch was neither platonic nor poetical ; and if in one passe i his works he calls it "anion' veementeissimo ma unico ed onesto,'* he confesses, in a letter to a friend, that it was L'liilty and perverse, that it absorbed him quite and mastered Ins heartJJ Petri reh ; and a Dissertation on in Historical Hypothesis of the Ai>M «te Sii'ii the first appeared Hboiit the year 1 781 . the other ia lnsari nlbi fnii ih volume of the Transactions odhe Royal ■'■ ■* ■■■ i\ ol Edinburgh, and been Incorporated into iw irk, published, under the Oral title, b* Ballantyne In 1810. • M.II1.I1IIH pOUT In Vie ill P-Mrnrqiie. + Life of Uealtte.b* BirW Cornea, I, il, p. ins. J Mr. Qlbbnn called ids Memoirs " n labour of lore," (See D*el and Pall. cap. In note I.) and i Mowed him with conArl md di light. The compiler of a *ery mluminom work must lake much ciHtlelsm ii, Mm IrUSt; Mi. Gibbon has d ■ to, gh nut »» readily us some othi-r auth & The * ' h i l bi f ra awakened l he suijjiciona of Mr. Horace Wal- p ■ iter ■ ■ Vi oai ic 1768. II ■' Pare* petit manege, cttte alternative defai imfnagSe, line la is lendi i el - uje smnse, nenilani vinci si un ana, Is | i ■ i, .1,- •.in slacle. Bane filrc la moimtre brechi ■ iimr." M 'in pour i ■ v.. H [oi I hi London edition if Petrarch, who has translated t.ord u . ,.iii 1 1... i,-.-, i endi < - the " \- ■ ii n I - • icetta " Rifleaa lornoa madonna Uura.ji. 234, vol. M ed. 1811. n In a dialogue with St. Autjuatln, Petrarch has described Laura m h. (viiii; n body exhausted wiili ' ' ■irinidl perturbnttoniouM ; bul nil . < ' tpperonler, librarian to the Preni b Una in ITS*, who saw the M9 in lh< stteatallon that " On lit el Qu'vn d>it lire, jmrttihui txhausiurn." I)> Hie names of Mi-aire. Bondot and Bejol with Mr Cappei >r, and in the whole -discuaelon on thlapfuos, showed i tell adowni rogue. Sfe RtBeesioni, Ike. p, '2S7. Thomas Afimm u Called in (o settle whalber IVlrereh's irnttres* wnu chnrte maid or a continent wife. •• " Pigmalion, quanta lodar u del I ii 'l' imogtai ma. s« mills » .He N' avesti quel ch' i' sot una vorr.i " SnrelM 58 raajldo giliiut a Simon l* alto concetto. /.-■ /,'inif, ic. par. i. nag. 189, edit. Yen. 1756. V 8m lUOaukoI, Slc. p. 291. ;; '■ Ojmdla ira e perversa paasioua die solo tutlo mi ocenpava c id) reguav* nel mure." In this case, however, he was perhaps alarmed foe the culpability of his wishes; for the Abbe di who certainly would no! have been scrupulously delicate if be could have proved Ins descent from Po- trarch as well as Laura, is forced into a stunt defence of Ins virtuous grandmother. As far as relates to the poet, we have no security for the innocence, except perhaps in the constancy of his pursuit. He assures us in his epistle to posterity, that, when arrived at his lor. hi ili \. ;ir, lie not only Had in horror, but had lost all i 'ii and image of any " ^regularity."* But the birth of his natural daughter cannot be assigned earlier than bis thirty-ninth year: and either the memory or the morality of the poel must have failed him, when he forgot or was guilty of this >/'/' t The weakest argu- ment fur the purity of this love has been drawn, from the permanence of effects, which survived the object of Ins pa i m. The reflection of Mr. de la Dastie, that virtue alone is capable of making impressions which death cannot efface, is one of those which every body ap- plauds, and every body finds nol to be true, the moment he examines bis own breasl 01 the records of human feeling.! S tlc l» npoph d thing for Pe- trari'b or for the cause of morality, except with the very weak and the very young. He that has made even a little progress beyond ignorance and pupilage cannol be edified With any thing but truth, What is called vindi- cating the honour of an mdnidiial or a nation, is the mosl futile, tedious, and uninstructive of all writing; although it will always meet with more applausi thai sober ciiticism, which is attributed to the malicious desire of reducing a great man to the common standard of humanity. It is, after all, not unlikely, that our his- torian was ri^ht in retaining his favourite hypothetic salvo, which secures the author, although it scarcely saves the honour of the still unknown mistress of Pe trarch.§ 16, Thnj Keep ftu 'lust in Arqua y where lie ditd. Stanza \wi. line 1. Petrarch retired to Arqua imm- I return from the unsuccessful attempt to visit Urban V. at Home, in the year 1370, and, with the - xception of his celebrated visit to V< nice, in company with Francesco Novello da Carrara, he appears to have passed the four last vear- of lus hfi- between that eharunne M.ilitude and Padua. For four months previous to his death he was in a state of continual languor, and in the morning of July the 19th, iu the year 137-1, was found dead in Ins library chair with his head resting upon a book. The chair is still shown among the precious relics of Arqua, which, from the uninterrupted veneration that ha attached to every thins relative to this great man from the mom- m . . t " In- if In otrtli teufe qui eoit capnhle dt fnire de' trnpree- • ions que la mart n'eJTare prxm." iM da BI ' ll Hastte, In >l,.- \|.' i ] tcarWmti del Ii ■ rf] nuna ct Belles L«ttrcs for 1740 and mi See alto RtBessloni, ftc. J..295. §" And it" the virtue or iinirienceof Lniirn vv . ■ iiml might hoaet ■>{ BOjoyuif, tin* nvmph of poetry." Occline and P*ll Cap, In. p. 327. vol. ail. ocl. Perharia lUc t/ u hurt; uuaiil for although. Caxto IV. XOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. 65 and commanding a view not only of the glowing gardens >n the dales immediately beneath, but ofthe wide plains. above whose low woods of mulberry and willow, thick- ened into a dark mass by festoons of vines, tall single cypresses, and the spires of towns, are seen in the dis- tance, which stretches to the mouths ofthe Po and the es of the Adriatic. The climate of these volcanic warmer, and the vintage begins a week sooner than in the plains of Padua. Petrarch is laid, tor he cannot be said to be buried, in a sarcophagus of red inarlilc, raised on tour pilasters on an elevated base, and preserved from an association with meaner tombs, li stands conspicuously alone, but will he soon over- shadowed by lour lately planted laurels. Petrarch's Fountain, for here everything is Petrarch's, springs and expands itseU beneath an artificial arch, a little he church, and abounds plentifully, in the driesl season, with that sofl water which was the ancient wealth ofthe Euganean hills. It would be more attrac- tive, were it not, in some seasons, beset with hornets and wasps. No other coincidence could assimilate the tombs of Petrarch and Archiiochus. The revolutions of centuries have spared these sequestered valicvs, and the only violence which has been offered to the ashes of Petrarch was prompted, not by hate, but vene- ration. An attempt was made to rob the sarcophagus of it? treasure, and one of the arms was stolen by 3 Florentine through a rent which is still visible. The injury is ool forgotten, but has served to identify the float with the country where he was born, but where ic would not live. A peasant boy of Arqua being asked who Petrarch was, replied, "that the people ofthe par- sonage knew all about him, but that he only knew that he was a Florentine." .Mr. Forsyth* was not quite correct in saying that Petrarch never returned to Tuscany after he had once quitted it when a boy. It appears he did pass through Florence on his way from Parma to Rome, and on his return in the year 1350, and remained there long enough to form some acquaintance with its most distin- guished inhabitants. A Florentine gentleman, ashamed ofthe aversion of the poet for "his native country, was eager to point out this trivial error in our accomplished traveller, whom he knew and respected for an extraor- dinary capacity, extensive erudition, and refined taste, joined to that engaging simplicity of manners which has • been so frequently recognised as the surest, though it is certainly not an indispensable, trait of superior genius. Every footstep of Laura's lover has been anxiously traced and recorded. The house in which he lodged is shown in Venice. The inhabitants of Arezzo, in order tod< i i ■•■ the ancient controversy between their city and the neighbouring Aneisa, where Petrarch was carried when seven months old, and remained until his seventh year, have designated by a long inscription the spot where their great fellow-citizen was born. A tablet ii raised to him at Parma, in the chapel of St. Agatha, at the cathedral,! because he was archdeacon of that society, and was only snatched from his intended sepulture in their church by a. foreign death. Another tablet with a bust has been erected to him at Pavia, on account ofhis having passed the autumn of 1368 in that tth his son-in-law Brossano. Tiie political con- dition which has for ages precluded the Italians from * Remarks, &c. on Italv, p. So, note, 2d edit. ' D.O.M. Francisco Peirarche Pdrmtuii Arcliidiacono. Fsneatibui prBcIaxu genera perantiquo Ethic** Christiana.' scriplori eixmio Romaox lingux restilutOTl Etnuca principj Alncs ob carmen hac in urbe pernctum rcgibua acdlo S. P- Ct. R. tturea donate. Taali Tiri Juvenilium Jurenia scnilium senex tiaainuia Come* Nicolaua Canonicos Cicoenarua Marraorea proxin i ara exdinia,. It ique ooodiio Dive Jaminris rruenlocorpore H. M.P. BuflectutD Sed Infra meriumi FrsocUcl sepulehro Summa hac in ode efferri mn.nda.nlia Si Parmw occumbaret Exleramoric hen nobis erapii. the criticism ofthe living, has concentrated their atten- tion to the illustration ofthe dead. 17. Or t it may 6e, xvitJi demons. Stanza xxxiv. line I. The struggle is to the full as likely to be with demons as with our better thoughts. Satan chose the wilder- ness for the temptation of our Saviour. And our unsullied John Locke preferred the presence of a child to complete solitude. 18. Li fore of alt TasfoeS) the Crvsean quire ; A.nd SoUcau., whose rash envy, &c. Stanza xxxviu. lines 6 and 7. Perhaps the couplet in which Boileau depreciates Tasso, may serve as well as any other specimen to justify the opinion given of the harmony of French verse. A Malerbe a. Racan, prefere Thfeophile, Et le clinquant du Taase a tout 1'or de Virgile. Sat. ix. vers. 176. The biographer Scrassi,* out of tenderness to the reputation either of the Italian or the French poet, is eager to observe that the saiirist recanted or explained aw ay this censure, and subsequently allowed the author of the Jerusalem to be a "genius, sublime, vast, and happily born for the higher, Sights of poetry." To this we will add, that the recantation is far from satisfactory, when we examine the whole anecdote as reported by Olivet. | The sentence pronounced against him by Bohours)) is recorded only to the confusion of the critic, ilinodia the Italian makes no effort to discover, and would not perhaps accept. As to the opposition which the Jerusalem encountered from the Cruscan academy, who degraded Tasso from all competition with Ariosto, below Bojardo and Pulci, the disgrace of such opposition must also in some measure be laid tu the charge of Alfonso, and the court of Ferrara. For Leonard Salviati, the principal and nearly the solo origin of this attack, was, there can be no douht,§ in* rluenced by a hope to acquire the favour of the House of Este: an object which he thought attainable by exalting the reputation of a native poet at the expense of a rival, then a prisoner of state. The hopes and efforts of Salviati must serve to show the cotemporary opinion as to the nature of the poet's imprisonment; and will till up the measure of our indignation at the tyrant jailer. || In fact, the antagonist of Tasso was not dis- appointed in the reception given to his criticism; he was called to the court of Ferrara, where having endea- voured to heighten his claims to favour, by panegyrics on the family of his sovereign,!! he was in turn abandoned, and expired in neglected poverty. The opposition ofthe Cruscans was brought to a close in six years after the commencement of the controversy ; and if the academy owed its first renown to having almost opened with such a parodox,** it is probable that, on the other hand, the care of his reputation alleviated rather than aggravated the imprisonment ofthe injured poel The defence ofhis father and of himself, for both were involved in the censure of Salviati, found employ- menl for many of his solitary hours, and the captive could have been but little embarrassed to reply to ac- • t.n Vim del TaatO, lit' ill. p. 284. torn. ii. edit. Bergamo, 1780. * llisloire de I'Acadgmie Pranqotae, depuia 1652 Jusqu' 1700, par I'ubLe d'Ollael, p. 181, edit. Amsterdam, 1730. "Mais, enstiite, venam A 1 'usage qu'ila foil He ses I ileus, j'auroia monlr* que '.e boo sens n'eal pus toujoi.rsce qui domtne ehel l"i,' p. 18S, Boileau BSJd he hud nut changed his opinion : " Jen a] i| peu cnangfi, dil-il," . ; c. p. 181. J Lei manUra de bleu penaer dana les ouvrogtsde I'eaprit, sec- dial. p. 89, edit. 1692 Philanihe* is for Tnsso. and says, in the outset. '■ de 1 001 lea beaux esprit* que 1'Itatie a. pories, le Tasse est peni-etre eelui qu] pensc leplus noblemenl." But Bolionra seems to sirrnk in Eudoxua, who closes with the absurd i fflpai 11 Faites raioire le Tasse taut qu'il vinu plaint, le rn'en Hem poui mol i VTrpas," flic, Ibid. p. 102. §l.a Viu, Ac. fib. iii. p. 90, lem. ii. The EngUsii reader may see an account of ihe opposition of the Crusca to Tasso, in Dr. Black, Life, &c cap. xvii vol. ii. II For further, and, U is hoped, decisive proof, that Tasso was neither more nor less tlind . ili, p, 96, &4. lorn. It, t ! .11 Vita di M. L. Ariosto, scrittn dull' 4 its Qj imo rtaroffiddi Q " , ic. Ferrara, 1807, lib. ill. p. £89, Sec Histories! IljualraUniu, 4e. p. 26. * BtorUkdall* Lett. Sc. lib. iii. torn. vli. pnr. iii. p. 1220, Peel. 4. § " Mi raccontarono que' mooiui, oh 1 AMendo eadulo un fulmint neltn Inro ctnesn •rhmntdesso dalle lempU II H >Li lnnron. quell' imiiiortnie poftB." Op. di Bianeonl, rol, iii. p. l7S.il. Milam I Signer GilMo Sarfni Arcifaiocntico, »uj|' indole (ii un fulmine c-uluto in- Drnwli* I'nnuo 1759. II " Appnaaionntn mnmirntore c*1 InrHto apolo^i*tn dill' Omtro Ftrra- r-*c." Tin lillfl was fire t given by Tumo, iuiiI ii quoted (o the confusion oft ho Ttm-iitti, lib. iii. pp. 383 268 I ■ Vltadi '1 !.. Arioito, &c. TI *' Parri Bed apt a milii, lad nnlli nbnnxin, wril MO Sordidn, part a ipeo sed Uuittn arc domut." ** ATuiln, vitulus mnrinuv, el Uurut. fulmint: tioo feriuntOf. Plin. N.i. n!.t. lib. il. cap. It. II ColiMHlb, lib. x. Ifyurion.in VH. AuglPBt.Clp. xt. iS Sue tou, in Vil. Tibcrii, cap. Iiu, haps the reader may not be much surprised to find that a commentator on Suetonius has taken upon himself fravely to disprove the imputed virtues of the crown of Hbenus, by mentioning thai a few years before he wrote, a laurel was actually struck by lightning at Rome.* 21. Know liial tlie lightning sanctifies below. Stan/a xli. hue 8. The Curtian lake and the Ruminal fig-tree in the Forum, having been touched by lightning) were held sacred, and the memory of the accident was preserved by a />?j.'trt/ ; or altar, resembling the mouth of a well, with a little chapel covering the cavity supposed to be made by the thunderbolt. Bodies scathed and persona struck dead were ihoughl io be incorruptible \\ and a str ike nol fatal conferred perpetual dignity upon the man bo distinguished by heaven.] Those killed by lightning were wrapped in awhile garment! and buried where ihey fell, jrbe superstition was not confined lo the worshippers of Jupiter: (he i believed 111 the omens furnished by lightning. and a Christian priest confesses that, by a dial skill in interpreting thunder, a seer foretold to Agiiuil* duke of Turin, an event which came to pa- s, am! gave him a queen and a crown. § There was, however, something equivocal in this signj which the ancient in- habitants'of Rome did not always consider propitious; and as the fears are likely to last longer than the con- solations of superstition, it is not strange that the Ro- mans of the age of Leo X. should have been so much terrified at some misinterpreled storms as to require the exhortations of a scholar, who a-rayedall the learning on thunder and lightning to prove the omen favourable ; he- ginning wiih the flash which struck the walls of Velitra?, and me hiding (hat which played upon a gale at Florence, and foretold the pontificate of one of its citizens.|| 22. Italia I oh Italia ! &c. Stanza xlii. tine 1. The two stan/as, XLU. and XI. III., are, with the exceptio.. of a line or two, a translation of the farm us sonnet of Filicaja: " I tali*, IlaBa, lu cui feola sort?." . . 2S - M tendering 'm youth, I traced the path of him, The Roman ■ friciul of Rome's least-mortal mind, Sianza xliv. lines 1 and 2. The celebrated letter of Servius Sulpicius to Cicero on the death of his daughter describes as il then was, and now is, a path which I often traced in Greece, both by sea and land, in different journeys and voyage s . "On my return from Asia, as I was sailim; from SSgina towards Megara, I hegan to contemplate the prospect of (he countries around me : iEgina was be- hind, Megara before mc ; Pirteus on the right, C< th on the h-fi ; all which towns, once famous and flourish- ing, now lie overturned and buried ui their ruins. Upon tins sight, I could ool but think presently within rayselfj Alas! bow do we poor mortals fret and vex ourselves if any of our friends happen to di.' or to be killed, whose lift is \ el bo short, when the carcasses of so many noble cities lie here exposed before me ill one View .'H 24. And we pass The skeleton of her Titanic form. Stanza xlvi. lines 7 and 8. It is Poggio who, looking from the Capiioline hill upon ruined Rome, breaks firth into the exclamation, * Nole2. p.409. etlit.Lu(rf. Bat. 1«7. t Vid. J.C.Bullenptr, rfeTtrrj- Mattel Fiilmiuih. lih. ». cap. xi. I *ipnvi'iu"il( irif.os tar., bQtv Kal a>£ $ti% ripdTot. Plot, rid. i. C. BuibeDf. m »«p. § PauII DiacOQh , Th- moral «»rv wrong. E. ofthel ! (htl fiti ■ iho miff,i the l..ill;.u.,v. 1,111 who furilfehcd 1 i'. ini " v ■ thej dro ■ nfn populnre, ■pom nls survived their liberllu. i'h ■_■ is in (lie i'ie;itreof ic)i w eflnce from :m wild Hie enlermintneiil , ihe theatre with ert.ii never icit in the c v.-* i niton «i ihe 10 hid ... Ibed their brother*, Da G*rmnnh ■ ■ - G 'ii •'<••< triumphant Consul, * ; n Buying worth n rei ont, were It hing hut a good pun. [C. Veil. Patron li Hill. lib. u.cop.lixix.png. 78, edit. Llievir. 1639. Ibid. Iib.it. up. lxxvii.J 68 NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. Canto IV. lo look at the papers beforehand, but in case of any prudential afterthought, steps in to correct the blind- ness of chance. The proposal for deifying Allien was received with immediate enthusiasm, the rather because it was conjectured there would be no opportunity of carrying it'mto effect. 29. Here 3Iacfaavellis earth nlunid to whence it rose. Stanza liv. line 9. The affectation of simplicity in sepulchral inscriptions, win i-h so often leaves us uncertain whether the structure before us is an actual depository, or a cenotaph, or a simple memorial not of death but life, lias gw i tomb of Machiavelli no information as to Una place or time of the birth or death, the a«e or parentage, of the historian. TANTO NOMINI NVLLVM PAR ELOGIVM NICcOLAVS MACHIAVELLI. There seems ai least no reason why the nam not have been put above the sentence which alludes to it. It will readily be imagined that the prejudices whii h have passed the name of Maehiavclli into an epithel provi rbial of iniquity exist no longer at Florence. 1 lis memory was persecuted as his lite had been for an at- tachment to liberty incompatible with the m of despotism, which succeeded the fall of the free governments of Italy. He was put to the torture foi Being a K iibeftme" that is, f>r wishing to restore the reoublic . .f Flmvuee ; and such are the undying efforts of those who are interested in the perversion imi only "l iln nature of actions, but the meaning of words, that what was once patriotism, has by degrees come to sig- nify debauch. We have ourselves outlived the old meaning of "liberality," which is now another word far (reason in one country and for infatuation in all. It seems to have been a strange mistake to accuse (he author of the Prince, as being a pander to tyranny; and '" ' In ill; that thi Inquisition would coni I u 'i'li a delinquency. The fact is that Machiavelli, as is usual with those against whom no crimi can be proved, was suspected of and charged with atheism and the first aad last most violent opposers of the Prince were both Jesuits, one of whom persuaded the Inqui li- lion u benchfe fosse tardo," to prohibit the treatise, ami the other qualified the secretary of the Florentine re- public as no better than a fool. The father Possevin was jirnvnl never I u have nail I he bimk, :in .'iiclifl.li Mr. Am.-t.it (fa Is HoUMftTI e I* HUM t conKUnonr rtoli upon . . . C'asmopoli 1763. absent on an embassy to Pope Boniface VIII., and was condemned to two \ ears' banishment, and to a fine of 8000 lire ; "ti the non-payment of which he was further punished by the sequestration of all his property. The republic, however, was nol content with this sat lion, for in 1772 was discovered in itu archives at Flo- rence a si ntence in which Dame is the eleventh of a list of fifteen condemned in 1302 to be burnt alive. Talis pervenienstgni d Xmoriatur* The pretext For this judgment was s proi fof unfair barn r, extortions, and illicit gains. Baracteriurum ime/Harum, extorsiomtiu, tt iUicitorum lun.tr urn* and with such an accusation it is nol strange that Dante should have rotested his il ind the injustice of his felldw-cilizens. His appeal to Florence was accom- panied hv another to Lne Emperor Henry; and the death of thai sovereign in ISIS, was the signal for it sentence "I irrevocable banishment. He bad before lingered near Tuscany with hopes of recall ; then tra- velled into the north of Italy, where Verona bad I of his Ion settled at Har venna, which was Ins ordinary but st abode miii! his death. The n fusal <>f theVeni him a public audience, on the part of Guido NoveUoda Pob nta, lie- protector, is said t" have been the principal cause nf i his ev< nt, which happened in 1S21. lie was buried ("in sacra niuioruin ade' 1 ) at Ravenna, in a handsome tomb, which was erected bj Guido, i by Bernardo Bembo in 1463, praetor for that republic which hail refused to hear him, a^ain restored by Car- dinal Corsi in 1692, aii' I replaced by a more magnificent sepulchre, constructed in 17S0, at the expense of the Cardinal Luigi Valenti Gonzaga. Tin- offence or misfortune of Danu was an attachment to a defeated party, and, as bis least favourable biographers allege againsl him, too great a freedom of- baughtl- manner. Hut the next age paid honours almost divine to the exile. The Florentines, having in vain ami frequently attempted to recover his body, crowned lis image in a church,! and his picture is still one of thi idols of their cathedi al. They struck raised ttui to him PI i I ies of Itt able to dispute about his own birth, cont. . of his great poem, and the Florentines thought it for ili u h :i iur to prove that he had finished the seventh Canto before they drove him from bis native city. i after his death, the) endowed a pro- fessorial chair for the expounding of hi., verses, and Boccaci i was appointed to this patriotic employment. The example was imitated by Bologna ami Pisa, and the commentators, if they performed but tittle service i" literature, augmented Lne veneration which beheld ;i sacred nr moral allegory in all the images of his mystic muse, Bis birth and his infancy were discovered to have been distinguished above those of ordinary men ■ the author of the Decameron, his earliest biographer) relates, that his mother was warned in a dream of the importance of her pregnancy: and it was found, by others, that at ten years of age he had manifested htf that , v- bit hj B , had bet n m I :-.■ substantia] mistress. When the Divine Comedy had ■ jni - d as a mere i thi distant e of two centuries, whi □ criticism and competition had sobered the judgment of [is Dante was serious!} di clared superior to Homer \\ and though the preference appeared to some casuists ■ mi\ worthy of the flames," the contest u,i- vigorously maintained for nearly fifty i ti li. Eater timed it h as made a question which of thi Lords of Verona could boast of having patronized id the jealous skepticism of one writer would not allow Ravenna the undoubted possession of his hones. Even the critical Tirahuxhi was inclined lo It, tul. torn. r. lib. iii. par. 2. p. U9. Tirabcaeht if Eocorrect tin dates of the ihrcc decrees ogams'. Dante are A. I). 1302, 1314, and 1316. t So relnti-s Picloo, but some think hii coronation pnljran ullegory. Sea Storia, Ai' i hi hi till Krcnlano. The controversy continued from 1570 to ifl, Lib, in [mt. ui. p. 1280. 1 teopo ILojiim Caaoelco d! Vtrona. Sent di Ancddoti, a. S. Sec Storia, otc, torn. v. lib t, p*i . t. p.M. Canto IV. NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. 69 believe that the poet had foreseen and foretold one of ovcries of Galileo. — Like the great originals of Other nations, his popularity has not always maintained M * level. The last a^e seemed inclined tounder- value him as a model and a study; and Bettinelli one daj rebuked his pupil Munli, for poring over the harsh and ubsolete extravagances of the Commedia. The present generation, having recovered from the Gallic idolatries of Cesarottij has returned to the ancient worship, and ihi I' ■ giare of the northern Italians is thought even indiscreet by the more moderate Tuscans. There is still much curious information relative to ■ ntings of this great poet which has not as yet been collected even by the Italians; but the cele- brated Uao Kit- 1 olo up (inates to supply this defect, and it is not to be regretted that this national work has been re>« t\ ed for one so devoted to his country and the cause of truth. 31. Like Scipin, buried by the upbraiding sJiore ; Thy factions, in tfteir worse than civil UWT, Proscribed^ &.C. Stanza lvii- lines % 3, and 4. The elder Scipio Africanus had a tomb if he was not buried at Liiernum, whither he had retired lo voluntary banishment. This tomb was near the sea-shore, and the story of an inscription upon it, Ingrain Patria, having given a name to a modern tower, is, if not true, an agreeable fiction. If he was not buried, he certainly lived there.* i ingiista e aolilaria ril!a ino the d'Afiica s'nppeOa : : prima col ferro at vivo aprilla.f Ingratitude is generally supposed the vice peculiar to republics; and it seems to be forgotten that for one instance of popular inconstancy, we have a hundred examples of the fall of courtly favourites. Besides, a people have often repented — a monarch seldom or never. Leaving apart many familiar proofs of this fact, a short sturv may show the difference between even an aristo- crat- and the multitude. Vettor Pisani, having been defeated in 1354 at Porto- longo, and many years afterwards in the more decisive action of Po!a, bv the Genoese, was recalled by the Venetian government, and thrown into chains. The idon proposed to behead him, but the supreme tribunal was content with the sentence of imprisonment. Whilst Pisani was suffering this unmerited di Chioza, in the vicinity of the capita!,! was by the assist- ance of the Signor of Padua, delivered into the hands of Pietro Dona. At the intelligence of that disaster, the great bell of St. Mark's tower tolled to arms, and the people and the soldiery of the galleys were sum- moned to the repulse of the approaching enemy; but they protested they would not move a step, unless Pisani were liberated and placed at their head. The great council was instantly assembled; the prisoner w;i called before them, and the Doge, Andrea Conta- rini, informed him of the demands of the people and the necessities of the state, whose only hope of safely was reposed on his efforts, and who implored him to forget the indignities he had endured in her service. "I have submitted," replied the magnanimous republican, " I uhmitted to your deliberations without complaint I have supported patiently the pains of imprisonment, for they were inflicted at your command: this is no time to inquire whether I deserved them — the good of the republic may have seemed to require it, and that which the republic resolves is always resolved wisely. Behold me ready to lay down my life for the preserva- tion of my country." Pisani was appointed generalis- simo, and by his exertions, in conjunction with those of Carlo ZenO) the Venetians soon recovered the ascend- ency over their maritime rivals. 1* he Italian communities were no less unjust to their * VitarnLiternie-UsiiiedeiideriourbU. SeeT.Liv.Hfft.lib.xxxviii Li*y rcporta thai sonte aaid he waa buried at LHernum, other* at Rome. I!>. cap. Iv. j TnonfodellaCaBliti. J ties note 8, page 62. citizens than the Greek republics. Liberty, both with the one and the other, seems to have been a national, not an individual object : and, notwithstanding the boasted equality before the lows, which an ancient Greek writer* considered the great distinctive mark between his countrymen and the barbarians, the mutual n;hts of fellow-citizens seem never to have been the principal scope of the old democracies. The world may have not yet seen an essay by the author of the Italian Re- publics, in which the distinction between the liberty of former states, and the signification attached to that word by the happier constitution of England, is ingeni- ously developed. The Italians, however, when they had ceased to be free, still looked back with a sigh upon those times of turbulence, when every citizen might rise to a share of sovereign power, and have never been taught fully to appreciate the repose of a monarchy. Sperone Speroni, when Francis Maria II. Duke of Rovere proposed the question, " which was preferable, the republic or the principality — the perfect and not durable, or the less perfect and not so liable to change," replied, "that our happiness is to he measured by its duality, not by iis duration; and that he preferred to live for one day like a man, than for a hundred years like a brute, a stock, or a stone." This was thought, ent answer, down to the last days of Italian servitude, j 32. And Oie croicn J I 'hick PeirardCs laureate brow supremely wore Upon afar and foreign soil had grou n. Stanza lvii. lines 6, 7, and 8. The Florentines did not take the opportunity of Pe- trarch's short visit to their city in 1350 to revoke the decree which confiscated the property of his father, who had been banished shortly after toe exile of Dante. His crown did not dazzle them ; but when in the next year they were in want of his assistance in the formation of their university, they repented of their injustice, and Boccaccio, was sent to Padua to entreat the laureate to conclude his wanderings in the bosom of his native country, where he might hnish his immortal Africa, and enjoy with his recovered possessions, the esteem of all classes of his fellow-citizens. They gave him the option of the book and the science he might condescend to expound: iluv called him the glory of his country, who w as dear, and would be dearer to them ; and thev added, thai it" there was any thing unpleasing in their letter, be ought to return among them, were it only to cor- rect their style. J Petrarch seemed at first to listen to the flattery and to the enlreaties of his friend, b6t he did not return to Florence, and preferred a pilgrimage to the tomb of Laura and the shades ofVaucluse. 33. Boccaccio to his parent earth bequeathed His dust. Stanza Iviii. lines I and 2. Boccaccio was buried in the church of St. Michael and St. James, at Certaldo, a small town in the Val- delsa, which was by some supposed the place of his birth. There lie passed the latter part of his life in a course of laborious study, which shortened his existence, and there might his ashes have been secure, if not of honour, at least of repose. But the " hyaena bigots" of Certaldo tore up the tombstone of Boccaccio, and eject- ed it from the holy precincts of St. Michael and St. .lames. The occasion, and, it may be hoped, the excuse, of this ejectment was the making of a new floor for the church ; but the fact is, that the tombstone was taken up and thrown aside at the bottom of the building. Ignorance may share the sin with bigotry. It would be painful to relate such an exception to the devotion of the Italians for their great names, could it not be accompanied by a trait more honourably conformable • The Gm*k boanled thnl he wa« ttroviaecia,ci&i1e>>b' e»«*reiin atiro mutiToadeaaudire i deaiderjdeila lu» patria." Stortadalla I.elt. llal. lom. t. par. i lib. i. p*| 76. 70 NOTES TO CIIILDE HAROLD. Cavio IV. to the general character of the nation. The principal person of the district, the last branch of the house of Medicis, afforded tliat protection to the memory of the insulted dead which her best ancestors Itad dispensed upon all contemporary merit. The Marchioness Lcnzom rescued the tombstone of Boccaccio from the neglect in which ii had sometime lain, and found for it an honour- able elevation in her own mansion. She lias done more : the house in which the poet lived has been as little respected as his tomb, ami is falling to ruin over the head of one indifferent to the name of its former tenant. It consists of two or three little cliambi r and a low tower, on which Cosmo It. atlixed an inscription. This bouse she has taken measures to putchfl es to devote to it that care and consideration which are attached to the cradle and to the roof of genius. This is not the place to undertake llie defence of Boccaccio; but the man who exhausted his little patrimony in the acquirement of learning, who was among the first, if not the first, to allure the science and the poetry of Greece to the bosom of Italy; — who no! only invented a new style, hut founded, or nri.unK fixed, a new language ; who, besides the esteem of ever} polite court of Europe, was thought worthy of employ- ment by the predominant republic of his own country, and, what is more, of the friendship of Petrarch, who lived the life of a philosopher and a freeman, and who died in tbe pursuit of knowledge, — such a man might have found more consideration than he has met with from the priest of Certaldo, and from a lale English traveller, who strikes oil" his portrait as an odious, con- temptible, licentious writer, whose impure remains should be suffered to rot without a record.* Thai English traveller, unfortunately for those who have to deplore the loss of a very amiable person, is beyond all Criticism ; but the mortality which did not protect Boc- caccio from Mr. Eustace, must not defend Mr. Eustace from the impartial judgment of his successors. — Death may canonize his virtues, not his errors ; and it mav be modestly pronounced that he transgressed, not only is an author, but as a man, when he evoked the shade 'A' Boccaccio in company with that of Aretine, amidst he septdchres of Santa Croce, merely to dismiss it villi indignity. As far as respects "Ilflnpellodc' I'. ... pi, II iliriu Pk-tro Amino/' tt is of little import what censure "is passed upon a coxcomb who owes his present existence to the above burlesque character given to him by the poet whose amber has preserved many other grubs and worms : but to classify Boccaccio with such a person, and to excommunicate his very ashes, must of itself make us doubt of the qualification of the classical tourist for writing upon Italian, or, indeed, upon any other litera- ture; for ignorance on one point may incapacitate an author merely for that particular topic, but subjection to a professional prejudice must render him an unsafe director on all occasions. Any perversion and injustice may he made what is vulgarly called " a case of con- science," and this poor excuse is all that can be offered lor the priest of Certaldo, or the author of the Classical Tour. It would have answered the purpose to confine the censure to the novels ( ,f Boccaccio, and yratilude to that source which supplied the muse ofDryden with her last and most harmonious numbers might perhaps have restricted that censure to the objectionable quali- ties of the bundled tales. At any rate the repentance of Boccaccio might have arrested Ins exhumation, and it should have been recollected and told, thai in hie • Claaaienl Tour, enp. I*, vol. ii. p. 353 edlt.W. " Of Boceaeeio, the nodera Rttmnlua, »<- uy nothing ; tbe abuae <>t e ■ b n ■ ml mOM l- - ■ i n . ;ii|>til.| t - limit it:, ■.OHOI .- , Uld ll llDpOTU llttlt When UH Impure ratnalni of a ItccoUou* iuUioi lo their kHudred duet. For (he Mint reason iiic tranlkr mnji ytm uudotlced ifat uunfa of ihi malignant A re lino." Tim i>nal-plac« of Aretine, who*r tomb ni in ihe church of at. Lu£« it Vance, and nn rite to tlw fummiK controversy of which aorne notice if Inkm in Beyle. Now ih.- WOrda of Mr. Kuataxe would k-ail na lo think the tomb wan ul Florence, oral Iruxl wna to be somewhere recagntwfl, Whether tbe llIK " ■ UtpntedwM ever written on the (t»mt> c« t now Dtdcci '• I, foi eft BtemorUJ ol Una auOjyr Lj8 dleanpeejml Iroiti the church ol Si. J.uke. old age he wrote a letter entreating his friend to dis- COUrage the reading of the Decameron, for ihe sake of i testy, and for the sake of ihe author, who would not have au apologist always at hand lo slate in his excuse thai he wrote it when young, and at the command of his superiors. 4 It is neither the licentiousness of the writer, nor the evil propensities of ihe reader, which have given to the Decameron alone, of all the works of Boccaccio, a perpetual popularity. The establishment of a new and delightful dialect conferred an immortality on the works in which it was first fixed. The sonnets ol Petrarch were, for the same reason, fated to survive admired Africa, the "favourite, of kings. n The invariable trails of nature and feeling with which the novels, as well as the verses, abound, have doubtless been the chief source of the foreign celebrity of both authors ; but Boccaccio, as a man, is no more to bo estimated by that work, than Petrarch is to be regarded in no other light than as the lover of Laura. Even, however, had the father of the Tuscan prose been known only as the author of ihe Decameron, a consi- derate writer would have been cautious to pronounce a sentence irreconcilable \\ uh the unerring voice of many ages and nations. An irrevocable value has never been stamped upon any work solely recommended by 'impurity. The true source of the outcry against Boccaccio, which began at a very early period, was the choice of his scandalous personages in tic- cloisters as well as the courts; but the princes only laughed at the gallant ad- ventures so unjustly charged upon queen Theodelinda, whilst the priesthood cried shame upon the debauches drawn from the convent and the hermitage; and most probably for ihe opposite reason, namely, that the pic- ture was faithful to the life. Two of the novels are allowed to be facts usefully turned into tales, to deride the canonization of rogues and lavmen. Ser Ciappel- letto and Marcellinus are cited with applause even by ihe decent Muratori.| The great Arnaud, as In ts quoted in Bayle, states, tha' a new edition of ihe novels was proposed, of which ihe expurgation consisted in omitting the words " monk" and "nuii^'and lacking (he immoralities to other names. The literary history of Italy particularizes no such edition ; but it was not long before the whole of Europe had but one opinion of ihe Decameron ; and the absolution of the author seems lo have been a point settled at least a hundred years ago: "On se feroit sifiler si 1'on pretendoit convaincre Boc- cace de n'avoir pasete honnete homine, puisqu'il a fail le Decameron." So said one of the best men, and per- haps the best critic, (hat ever lived — the very martyr to impartiality.| But as this information, that in the beginning of the last century one would have been hooted at for pretending that Boccaccio was not a ?ood man, may seem to come from one of those enemies wfio are to be suspected, even when they make us a present of truth, a more acceptable contrast with the proscrip- tion of the body, soul, and muse of Boccaccio may be found in a few words from the virtuous, the patriotic cotemporarv, who thought one of the tales of this impure writer worthy a Latin version from Ins own pen. " / have remarked tforvhrrr" savs Petrarch, writing lo B LCCio, "that the ftnok itself has hern vnrried by rrr. tain . 540. cciii , Uuau. Ca.ito IV. NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. It is satisfactory to find tliat all the priesthood do nol resemble those of Ccrtaldo, and that one of them who did not possess the hones of Boccaccio would not lose the opportunity of raising a cenotaph to his memory. Bevius, canon of Padua, at the beginning of the sixteenth century, erected at Arqua, opposite to the tomb of the Laureate, a tablet, in which he associated Boccaccio to the equal honours of Dante and of Petrarch. 34i IV hat is her pyramid of precious stones ? Stanza be. line I. Our veneration for the Medici begins with Cosmo and expires with his grandson ; that stream is pure only al the source; and it is in search of some memorial ofthe virtuous republicans of the family that we visit the church ofSt. Lorenzo at Florence. The tawdry, °laring unlinished chapel in that church, designed for 'the mau- soleum ofthe Dukes of Tuscany, set round with crowns and coffins, gives birth to no "emotions but those of contempt fur the lavish vanity of a race of despots 71 man in his dominions. Yet that excellent prince him- selt had no other notion of a national assembly, than of a body to represent the wants and wishes, not the will, or Hie people. ' So. An earthquake redd unkecdedly avtay. Stanza Lviii. hue 6. "And such was their mutual animosity so intent were <• < 7 upon the battle, that the earthquake, which overtlireu, in great part many „J the cities of Italy, which turned the course of rapid streams, poured back die sea upon the rivers, and taie dawn the eery mountains, was not felt b>i one oj the combatant!.''* Such is the description of J."v. | niay be doubled whether modern tactics would admil ol such an abstraction. The site of the battle of Thrasimene is not'to be mis- taken. Hie traveller from the village under Cortona to Casa di Piano, the next stattc on the way to Rome, las lor the Inst two or three miles, around him, but |r . .„, ,,, v iav.au .Miii', ol a race Ot d'SDots ----- -, H.uu.iu nun, uui whilst the pavement slab, simply inscribed to the Father B FY '^j - ' U "" "P hl > ,hit " at land «"'<* of Ins Country, reconciles us to the name of Me.he * .' | ; """ bal la "' " asl .« »• order to induce the Consul It was very natural for Corinnat to suppose that the r lil, """" s """"« rum Arezzo. On bis left, and in «:i>i„„ „i/_j .„ .u.. r-,.., .r ,, ■ suppose tnai tne | R , n ,- , -., , ,. , ' statue raised to the Duke of Urbino in the capeUa oV depositi was mlended f,r his great namesake; but the magnificent Loreazo is only the sharer of a coffin half hidden in a niche uf the sacristy. The decay of Tus- cany dates from the sovereignty ofthe Medici. Of tne sepulchral peace which succeeded to the establishment ot the reigning families in Italy, our own Sidney has given us a glowing, but a faithful picture. "Notwith- standing all the seditions of Florence, and other cities of Tuscany, the horrid factions of Guelphs and Ghibelins !« *V,i and Bianchi.noblcs^nd commons, they oi,,,„, ,"' J ,'„ ',' , *" % U '\ P"P*^ a " d ^^ for twenty populous, strong, and exceeding i-l-h . k„. ;"„ .t minutes, llie lake is soon seen bek - of I is a ridge of hills bending down towards the i- i I hrasiiiiene, called by Livy "monies Cor- tonenses, and now named the Gualandia. These hills he approaches al Ossoja, a village which the itineraries pretend tu have been so denominated from the bones lound there: but there have been no bones found there, •oi,i tne bailie was fought on ihe other side of the hill I- rom Ossaja the road begins to rise a little, but does' not pass mio the roots ofthe mountains until the sixtv- seveillh milestone from Florence. The ascent thence rich ; but in the space ' wuh Bordiei less than a hundred and fifty years, the peaceable it'll of the Medices is thought to have destroyed nine Among parts in ten of the people of that province other things it is remarkable, ' Second of Spain gave Sienna to his embassador then at Rome sent had given away more than 650,000 subjects ; 'and it is not believed there are now 20,""' city and territory. Pisa, Pi t other towns, that were then the like proportion dimimshe. seen below on the right, round tower close upon the water: and the undulating hills partially covered with Destroyed nine | among which the road winds, wood, , sink by degrees into the any. When that city had been long troubled I „l sedi- SJTrfSTSffi'S S ' I "?''' "^ "rT"" ^ * ^'"^ te.ns, tumults, and wars, for the moll pan unprosnerous I ™ r- P ' "**? opens fu "- v "l* on him as h ° of France, being admitted as a friend with hi; who] army, which soon after conquered the kingdom of Na- ples, thought to master them, the people, takin- arms struck such a terror into him, that he was glad to"deparl upon such conditions as they thought hi to impose Machiavel reports, that in that time Florence alone' with the Val d'Arno, a small territory belonging to that city, could, in a few hours, by the sound ofa bell brins together 135,000 well-armed men; whereas DOM thai city, with all the others in that province, are brought to such despicable weakness, - enclosed to the left and in front and behind bin, by (he UuaJandra hills, bending round in a segment larger than a semicircle, and running down at each end to the lake which obliques to the right and forms the chord of this' mountain arc. The position cannot be guessed at from the plains of Cortona, nor appears to be so completely enclosed unless to one who is fairly within the hills. It then, indeed, appears "a place made as il were on purpose lor a snare," locus insidiis nntns. " Borghelto is then found to sland in a narrow marshy pass close to the hill and to the lake, whilst there is no other outlet T mi • > "...on, iioine, riapies am Lucca. This is not the effect of war or pestilence they enjoy a perfect peace, and sutler no other plague than the government they arc under."! From the usu.per Cosmo down to the imbecile Gaston we look in vain for any of those unmixed qualities which should raise a patriot to the command of his fellow-citizens The Grand Dukes, and particularly the third Cosmo' had operated so entire a change in the Tuscan character that the candid Florentines, in excuse for - fecti some imper- ii - — . — v..... inyi I ■ the philanthropic system of Leopold, are obliged to confess that the sovereign was the only liberal * rn, m „. Malice*, Deereto Publico. Pair Patrias. * ' ontiiir?. it. miil i-an ::i >,j :;: mo * Corirw.e, Hv. wtfl. c *p. iij. -„|. jji. page 2i8," Passignano and on this stands a wljito village called lorre. Polybius seems ,„ allude to this eminence as he one on which Ha bal encamped and drew out Ins heavy-armed Africans and Spaniards in a conspicuous position.ll From this spot he despatched his Balearic " Tantusqi cum lerne moti pvertitquc cura tfigenti pruruit, x ii. e fnii ardor ptnlmorum, mien intent 1 mqttl .nillinrt -Iii.hu IlHlllr in,.;; rapldo tiiniii". n nre flun oemo pqgDaotinm icuserit ptttrnre euiinua, ut Lrnu parte. proKravit, [uvea it, montaa Inpsu 'i'ii. Llr.lib.xxli.cap. T. t " Eqolteiad ip-M* faucea «ahua tumulisflp[« icgenlilma local " I.ivn. iilj xxn. cap. iv. I " OW maxitne rn'iues Cononeowa ThrasimcDuo aubit." Ibid § lutle colics nssurpini." Ibid. II Tdv (LlvKard npncrwnni' r})c Tooti'.ic Ufov dfroj KartXdBtro col r*C« At flyas t Kai r**j l.'^ac, t Xav tr.' dxrof- KaT,f slaughter. The oih«-r part of the plain is covered with thick set olive-trees in corn grounds, and is nowhere quite level except near the edge of the lake. It is, indeed, most probable, that the battle was fought noar tins end of (he valley, for the six thousand Romans, who, at the begin- ning of the action, broke through the enemy, escaped to the summit of an eminence which must have been in this quarter, otherwise they would have had to traverse the whole plain and to pierce through the main army of Hannibal. The Romans fought desperately for three hours, but the death of Flaminius was the signal for a general dispersion. The Carthaginian horse then burst in Upon the fugitives, and the lake, the marsh about Borghetto, but chiefly the plain of the Sanguinetto and the passes of the Gualandra, were strewed with dead. Near some old walls on a bleak ridge to the left above the riviilel many human bones have been repeatedly found, and this has confirmed the pretensions and the name of the "stream of blood." Every district of Italy has its hero. In the north some painter is the usual genius of the place, and the foreign Julio Romano more than divides Mantua with her native Virgil, f To the south we hear of Roman names. N--ar Thrasimene tradition IS slill faithful to the fame of an enemy, and Hannibal the Carthaginian is the only ancient name remembered on the banks of the Perugian lake. Flaminius is unknown; but the postillions on that road have been taught to show the very spot where // Console Romano was slain. Of all who fought and fell in the battle of Thrasimene, the historian himself has, besides the generals and Mahar- bal, preserved indeed only a single name. You over- take the Carlliatniimii a^ain on t lie same road to Rome. The antiquary, that is, trie hostler, of the posthouse at Spoleto, tells you that his town repulsed the victorious * " A tereo ct inner caput rteeepere inaltllff." T. Lit. &c. t About UW iniiMlenf iho XI I tit icninry the cnltta of Mantua bore on pnriuic the [man ™d fi-ure of Vinnl. Z'-cca d'llalia, pi. xril, |. 6. . . Vo*Age dun? k- MiUnaii, &c. par. A. Z. MiDin. tum.ii. pag.'^M. Pari*, 1017. enemy, and shows you the gate still called Porta dt AnnibaU, It is hardly worth while to remark that a French travel writer, well known by the name of the President Deputy, saw Thrasimene in the lake of I)ol- sena, which lay conveniently on his way from Sienna lo Rome. 36. Bui dunt, Clitumnus. Stanza lxvi. line 1. No book of travels has omitted to expatiate on the temple of the Clitumnus, between Fobgno and Spoleto, and nosiii', or scenery even in Italy, is more worthy a description. For an account of the dilapidation of this tempi.', ihe reader is referred to Historical Illustra- tions of the Fourth Canto of Childe Harold. 37. Charming the eye uitJi dnaa\ — a 7nat>-hL$s cataract. line 9. I saw the " Cascata del marmorc" of Terni I different periods ; once from the summit of the pri and again from the valley below. The lowei far to be preferred, if the traveller has time for one only; hut in any point of view, either from above or In-low, it is worth all the cas a l< s and torrents of Switzerland put together: the Staubach, Reiebenbach, Pisse v*ache, fall of Arpenaz, &c. are mis in compara- tive appearance. Of the fall of Schati hausen I cannot speak, not yet having seen it. ss. An iris sits amidst 0\e infernal surge. Sian/a Ixxii. line 3. Of the time, place, and qualities of this kind of iris the reader may nave seen a short account in a note to Manfred. The fall looks so much like "the hell of waters 1 ' that Addison thought tin- descent alluded toby the gulf in which Alecto plunged into the infernal re- gions. It is singular enough that two of the fine cades in Europe should !"■ artificial — this of the \ • inn., and the one at Tivoli. The traveller i- stri mended to trace the Velino, al least as high as the little lake called Pie 1 tit Lap. The Re a tine territory was the Italian Tempe,* and the ancient naturalist, among other beautiful varieties, remarked the daily rain of the lake Velinus.f A scholar of great name has devoted a treatise lo this district alone. \ 39. The tJmndcring lauwxne. Stanza IzxiU. line 5. In the greater part of Switzerland the avalanches are known by the name of lauwine. 40. / ahhorrd Too much, to conqwrfar the potCs sakcy The driWd dull /< ssorttforced down word by tvord. Stanza l\w. Inns 6, 7, and 8. These stanzas may probably remind the reader of Ensign Northertnns remarks : " D — n Homo," &c. but the reasons foi our dislike are n >i ezactlj th< 1 wish to express thai we become tired ol Ihe 'ask be- fore we can comprehend the beauty; that we I rote before we can gel by hearl ; thai the freshness is worn away, and the future pleasure and advantage deadened and destroyed, by the didactic anticipation, at an age when we can neither feel nor understand the ji.iw . t < if compositions which it requires an acquaintance with life, as well as Latin and ' rreek, to relish, or lo reason upon. For ihe same reason we never can be aware of the fulness of some of the finest p;i o| Shakspeare, ( M To be, or not to be," for instance,] from the habit of having them hammered into us at eight years old, as an exercise not of mind but of memory: so that when we are old enough to enjoy them, the taste lib. I> ' Rcatinl mo ad aua Tempe iluxemnt." (icer. epist. ad Attic, jt, t " la eodem Incu oullo non die npparere areu*." Flic. Hist. Nut. lib.1i.can.lxii. I AM. Muiiut. tie Beolina urbe nsfwjue, np. Sollengrc, Thcsaur. torn. i.p.773. Caxto iV. NOTES TO CIIILDE HAROLD. 73 is gone, and the appetite palled. In some parts of the Continent, young persons are taught from more common authors, and do not read the best classics till llieir maturity. I certainly do nol speak on this point from any pique or aversion towards the place of my education. 1 was nol a slow, though an idle boy; and I believe no our could, or ran ho more attached to Harrow than I have always been, and with reason , — a part of the time passed there was the happiest of my life; and my pre- (ihe Rev. Dr. Joseph Drury) was the best and worthiest friend 1 ever possessed, wliose warnings I hav< remembered but too well, though loo late — when I bavc erred, and whose counsels I have but followed when I have done well or wisely. If ever this imperfect record of my let-lings towards him should reach his i ii remujd bim of one who never thinks of him but with gratitude and veneration — of one who would more gladly boast of having been his pupil, if, by more closely following his injunctions, he could reflect any honour upon his instructer. 41. The Scipios tomb contains no ashes now. Stanza hoax, line 5. For a comment on this and the two following stanzas, ader may consult Historical Illustrations of the Fourth Canto of Childe Harold. 42. The trebly hundred triumphs. Stanza Ixxxii. line 2. Orosius gives three hundred and twenty for the num- ber of triumphs. He is followed by Panvinius ; and Panvuiius by Mr. Gibbon and the modern writers. 43. Oh thou-, whose chariot roWd on Fortune's wheel, &c. Stanza Ixxxin. line 1. Certainly were it not for these two traits in the life of Sylla, alluded to in this stanza, we should regard him as a monster unredeemed by any admirable quality. The atonement of his voluntary resignation of empire may perhaps be accepted by us, as it seems to have satisfied the Romans, who if they had not respected must have destroyed him. There could be no mean, no division of opinion-, they must have all thought, like Eucrates, that what had appeared ambition was a love of glory, and that what had been mistaken for pride was a real grandeur of soul.* 44. And laid him with the earth's preceding clay. Stanza lxxxvi. fine 4. On the third of September, Cromwell gained the vic- tory of Dunbar; a year afterwards he obtained "his Crowning mi rcy" of Worcester ; and a few years after, on the same day, which he had ever esteemed the most fortunate for him, died. 45. Ami tJunt) dread statue ! still existent in Tlie austcrestform of naked majesty. Stanza Ixxxvii. lines 1 and 2. The projected division of the Spada Potnpey has already been recorded by the historian of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Mr. Gibbon found it in the memorials of Flaminius Vacca,f and it may be added to his mention of it that Pope Julius III. gave the contending owners five hundred crowns for the statue; and presented it to Cardinal Capo di Ferro, who had prevented the judgment of Solomon from being executed upon the image. In a more civilized age this statue was exposed to an actual operation: for the French who acted the Brutus of Voltaire in the Coli- seum resolved that their Caesar should fall at the base of that Pompey, which was supposed to have been sprinkled with the blood of the original dictator. The nine-foot hero was therefore removed to the arena of the amphitheatre, and to facilitate its transport suffered the temporary amputation of its right arm. The re- publican tragedians had to plead that the arm was a restoration : but their accusers do not believe that the integrity of the statue would have protected it. The love of finding every coincidence has discovered the true ('a sariun ichor in a stain near the right knee ; but colder criticism has rejected not only the blood but the portrait, and assigned the globe of power rather to tho first of the emperors than to the last of the republican masters of Rome. Winkelmann* is loath to allow an heroic statue of a Roman citizen, but the Grimani Agrippa, a cotemporary almost, is heroic; and naked K. man figures were only very rare, not absolutely for- bidden. The face accords much better with the "homi- n, in integrum et castum et gravem*] than with any of the busts -of Augustus, and is too stein for him who was beautiful, says Suetonius, at all periods of his life. The pretended likeness to Alexander the Great cannot be discerned, but the traits resemble the medal of Pom- pey.J The objectionable globe may not have been an ill-applied flattery to him who found Asia Minor the boundary, and left it the centre of the Roman empire. It seems that Winkelmann has made a mistake in think- ing that no proof of the identity of this statue, with thai which received the bloody sacrifice, can be derived from the spot where it was discovered. § Flaminius Vacca says sotto una cantina, and this cantina is known to hav<» been in the Vicolo de' Leutari near the Cancellaria, a position corresponding exactly to that of the Janus be- fore the basilica of Pompey's theatre, to which Augustus transferred the statue after the curia was either burnt or taken down.]] Part of the Pompeian shade, IT the portico, existed iji the beginning of the XV th century, ami the atrium was still called Satrum. So says Blon« {Jus.** At all events, so imposing is the stern majestj oi the statue, and so memorable is the story, that the play of the imagination leaves no room for the exercise of the judgment, and the fiction, if a fiction it is, operates on the spectator with an effect not less powerful than truth. 46. And tho-Uy the thundcr-striclien nurse of Rome! Stanza bexxviii. line 1. Ancient Rome, like modern Sienna, abounded most probably with images of the foster-mother of her founder : but there were two she-wolves of whom history makes particular mention. One of these, of brass in ancient work, was seen by Dionysius"ft at the temple of Romulus, under the Palatine, and is universally believed to be that mentioned by the Latin historian, as having been made from the money collected by a fine on usurers, and as standing under the Ruminal fig-tree. tj The oilier was that which Cicero§§ has celebrated both in prose and verse, and which the historian Dion also re- cords as having suffered the same accident as is alluded to by the orator. |||| The question agitated by the anti- • " St-igiieur, Toua changes toutet meeidfeeade la fooondont Je "rous tots ngir, Je croyoisque toui avier de 1'ambition, mais oucun amour pool li» Kloire ; Je voyon bien Que votre Amcetoil haute ; mots je ne aoup- ;onnoU r a»qu'ellc Cut grande. — Dialogue de Syllael d'Eutrale. ♦ Memorie, num. Ivii. pag. 9. ai>. Montfaucou, Diarium Ilalicum. E • gloria th'lte Arti.&c.hb.ix.eap. I. pag. 321, 322. torn. ii. 1 Clcer. Eptrt.ftd Atltcum, xi, S. I Published by Uau»eu« En his Museum Roraanum. ■■ km. [s delle Aril, &e. Ibid. ; SuetOD. in vit. August, cap. 31, and in vit. C. J. Cesar, cap. 88 Ipplan ha v., ii wus burnt down. See a note of Pitiscus to Suetonius, pag. !B l fl " Tu modo Pompeia lenla spatiare sub umbra." Ovid. Ar. A man. •• Roma Inalanrula, lib. ii. fo. 31. tt XdA«c«t noiijuara naXaias {pyaatas. Antiq. Rom. lib. 1. tj " Ail licum RiiiuiiKil.-in simulacra infanlium coodilorum urbia sub uberibiialup«poeiii;riiut." Liv. Hist. lib. x. cap. Ixix. Thiswasintha yearU.C.455, or 457. §§ " Turn Btiiiua Natle, turn simulacra Deoruro, Romnluarjue et Re- mus cum altrice bellua vl hjlminis Ictis concidenmt." De Divioat. it 20. " Taclusesi ille etiam qnihaneurbem condidil Romulus, quern inau ralum in Capltolio parvum titque lacluutem, uberibua lupinia tnhianlem FuIlM meminis'.is." InCaUtin. Ul< 8. " Hie dilvestris erat Romani nominis allrix M.irim | qua: pnrvoa MavoiUB semuie nutos Uberibua graMdia viiali rore rigebat _ Q,us: turn cum pueris flammato fulminia icttl Concidit, atuue avulsa pedum veitigia liquit." De Cunaulalu, lib. ii. (lib. i. de Divinat. cap. Ii.) Ill) 'Ev' Vip t$ KannroHV Tffl •Pu.^lrA^ Unvuivi} initTT). Dion. Hist. lib. mvu. pag. 37. edit. Rob. Steph. 1548. He goes on to mention that the letters of the columns on which the laws were written were liquefied and become d/iut'pd. All that tue 74 NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. Cakto IV. quarics is, whether the wolf now in the conservators' palace is that of Livy and Dionysius, or that of Cicero, or whether it is neither one nor the other. The earlier writers differ as much as the modems : Lucius Faunus* says, that it is the one alludrd to l>y both, which is im- possible, and also by Virgil, which may be. Pulvius Ursinus j calls it the wolf of Dionysius, and MarlianusJ talks of it as the one mentioned by Cicero. To him Rycimius tremblingly assents. § Nardini is inclined to suppose it may be one of the many v. -Ives preserved iti ancient Rome ; but of the two rather bends to the Cice- ronian statue. |l MontfauconIT mentions it as a poinl without doubt. Of the latter writers the decisive \\ m- fcelmann** proclaims it as having been found it the church of Saint Theodore, where, or near where, was the temple of Romulus, and consequently makes it the wolf of Dionysius. His authority is Lucius Faunus, who, however, only says that it was placalj not found, at the Ficus Ruminalis, by the Comiiium, by which he- does not seem to allude to the church of Saint Theo- dore. Rycquius was the first to make the mistake, and Winkelmann followed Rycquius. Flaminius Vacca tells quite a different story, and says he had heard the wolf with the twins was foundjf near the arch of Septimius Severus. The commentator on Winkelmann is of the same opinion with that teamed person, and is incensed at Nardini for not having remarked that Cicero, in speaking of the wolf struck with lightning in the Capitol, makes use of the past tense. But, with the Abate's leave, Nardini does not positively assert the statue to be that mentioned by Cicero, and, if he had, the assumption would not per- haps have been so exceedingly indiscreet. The Abate himself is obliged to own that there are marks very like the scathing of lightning in the hinder legs of the present wolf; and, to get rid of this, adds, that the wolf seen by Dionysius might have been also struck by lightning, or otherwise injured. Let us examine the subject by a reference to the words of Cicero. The orator in two places seems to particularize the Romulus and the Remus, especially the first, which his audience remembered to have been in the Capitol, as being struck with lightning. In his verses he records that the twins and wolf both fell, and that the latter left behind the marks of her feet. Cicero does not say that the wolf was consumed; and Dion only mentions that it. fell down, without alluding as the Abate has made him, to the force of the blow, or the firmness with which it had been fixed. The whole strength, therefore, of the Abate's argument hangs upon the past tense ; which, however, may be somewhat diminished by remarking that the phrase only shows RomMis did wag to creel a Urge statue to Jupiter, looking; towards the cut : no mention j* afterwards made of the wolf. This happened in A U. C 689. The Abate Pea, in noticing Mils pnssuge "I" Dion (Storll dalle Aru, \i . torn, l.pag.202. note x.) tnytt, Non ustivite , aggiwif:'' Dlont. e/le/ttie ben fermata (\.he wolf.) by which il is clear the AIjmh- Iraneleted the i ylundro-Leuucltivian version, which pins gmmsil tta/iilitn for the on S i..il Itpvpivi), a word that does not mean ben fernmta, but only rnieel. as in.iy be distinct I y seen Iron) another pasture of the same Won : 'H^evAijfln^tvovvo' Aypiirua$ xal tAv AvyavvTov lvrav Anti<|. Pro. Horn. lib. ii. cap. ftl. up. Sallengre, torn. i. p. 217. In hit XVI Ith chapter he repeals Ihat the statues were there, but not that liicy were found [here. t Ay. Nardini Rmna Veins, lib. *. cap. I*. I Mori, i in i"iii. Ron. topograph, lib. ll.cap.be. He mentions another w.)ir«mi twine iii (hj v.iu.u, lib r.cap • tl. $ * Nun draunt qui hauc lp»am awe putcnl. miam adptnximus, que 4 esmillo in Hinilicam I.aleranum, cum nuiimilhs aliia autiqoilutum reli quiU, aiqui' i tpUoUum poitei raIataelt,qwunTbMarUanuaaiiU< u in, ( npKoltfiam esse ma I o it & TitfUo deec/iptem, ml u( in re ninth > deecripta duhia, irepHeadaaoUrQur." Jim. Ryuull de Caplt. Roman. Comra. cap. xx.v. pag. 250. edit, l.iigd. Bat. 1696. II Nardini Roma Vetue, lib. v. cap. iv. IV'I.upa hodleqoelD capitoliuis prosir.Ufflditu)*,cum*callgio fulmiuls quo ic tarn narrat Cicero. '' Diartiim Italic, torn. i. p, 114. ** Sloriadelle Arti.ic. lib. iii. cup m. | n. note 10. Winkelmann has made a strange blunder in the note, by aaymg the Ciceronian wolf was not in the Capitol, and thai Dion was wrong in saying bo. ft " luteal dire, che I'Ereolodl bronio, che ogjri si Irota nclla sala di Carapldogllo, fu trovato net foro Romano aVpreaao I'arco di Setlirnio : . elfu tro»al« anche la lupa dihronioche ailuu Romolo e Remo, e sl4 nella Loggia deconservaton.'' Flam. Vacca, Menwne, num. iii. rag. i. ap. MoAtfaucou, Diur. hel.tem. f. that the statue was not then standing in its former posi- tion. Winkelmann his observed, that the present twins are modern ; and il is equally clear mat there are marks of gilding on the wolf which might therefore be supposed to make part of the ancient group. Il is known that the sacred images of the Capitol were not destroyed when injured by time or accident, but were pul into certain under-ground depositaries called favit- »f Lactantius. The early Christian writers are not to be (rusted in the charges which thev make against the Pagans. Euse- bius accused the Romans to their faces of worshipping Simon Magus, and raising a statue to him in the island of the Tyber. The Romans had probably never heard of such a person before, who came, however, to [day a considerable, though scandalous part in the church history, and has left several tokens of his aerial combat with St. Peter at Rome ; notwithstanding that an in- BCription found in this very island of the Tyber showed the Sinniii Magus of Eusebius to be a certain indigenal god, called Semo Sangus or Fidius.|| Even when the worship of the founder of Rome had been abandoned, it was thought expedient to humour the habits of the good matrons of the citv by sending them with their sick infants to the church of'Samt Theo- dore, as they had before carried them to the temple of Romulus. H The practice is continued to this day; and the site of the above church seems to be thereby iden- tiried with that of the temple: so that if the wolf had been really found there, as Winkelmann says, there would be no doubt of the present statue being that seen by Dionysius.** But Faunus, in saying that it was at the Ficus Ruminalis by the Comiiium, is only talking of its ancient position as recorded by Pliny; and even if he had been remarking where it was found, would not have alluded to the church of Saint Theodore, but • Luc. Faun. ibid. t See note toatenia I. XXX. in Blalorhol IH'iitr." 1" Riimuli iiutiix Lope honbrlbue «i afleeta (Heinle, et ferrem at animal ipsum fu level, eulu* f nurum uertl." Laelanl. de Falsa RoUgfotia lib. I. cap. 30. pa« 101. edit. ** lor. 1660: th.it is to say, he v* ...1,1 rather adore a wolf than a proetttute. His commentator has obaenrecf that the opinion of Livy concerning Launirila belug Ifured In tins e/oil was not universal. Strabo thought lo. RvCCJuiUJ is wrong in saying that Lactanthu piantloni the Woll m ae En il" Capitol. § To A. H. 496. " tin-, credere poeeH," > ;tr* Hom^nis (Ann. Feelee. tOm. 'in. j), &r_\ ir. ,in. 4%.. | " dgaitM BllhuC RoflUI ad (ielaaiii len> iwra, o,nr fuere ante exordia uroE allate in Italian) l.npercnlia 1" Uela- ii ii* wrote a li-tier which occupies (burTollo puces to Androinacbua Uto senaiur, and ulhere, to ahow lhat tl,e rltei should tx- rim up. ii Buteblue bae these word- : koI ivc'ptdvn trap" tfiiv ftnrat, Iv Tf. T(/T(pt norafiQ jisra^i rtSv iJtio yi^vfiCiv, tyoiv twu ypa^ijv 'fmpaXKfp r*4nv tifiuivi ttta Eay*rai. Kcclei. Ilial. lib. ii.cap.xlii. p. 40. Juslin Martyr hud told the story bafon i hut Bnronlue himself wae obliged lo detect this fuble. See NanUni Roma Vet. lib. til. cap. xii. Tt •• In essa gli antithi poottfld per toglier la memoria de' giuoehl L»* >rcaH istiiiim In ooora dl " OM, [ntroduaaero I'oao di partajfl Bam- bini oppressi da infermita ottnitr, aocloel llbcrino par I'lalaKeaeJaODe dl lU Saaio, comedi continue si sperimniia." Rione xii. Ripa accit. . e eaccInCU descrmone, ttc. di Roma Moderua dell' Ab. Rid,,|f. Vennii, I7ti6. * Nardini, lib. v. cap. It. convicts Pomponitis Lietua emtri grrorit, io putting the [luminal fig-tree at the church of Saint Theodore : but aa I. Ivy aaya the wolf was at the Fleua Ruminalis. and Pionysius at the tem- ple of Romuhia, ha is obliged (cap. it.) to own that the two were doee togvdier, a* w«U u tha Lupercalta>c, shaded, ae U were, by the flg-lrce. Canto IV. NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. 75 to a very different place, near which it was then thought the Flcus Rumtnalis had been, and also the Comitium ; that is, the three columns by the church of Sanla Maria Liberatrice, at the corner of die Palatine looking on the Forum. It is, in fact, a mere conjecture where the image was actually dug up,* and perhaps, on the whole, the marks of the gilding, and of the lightning, are a belter argument ill favour of its being the Ciceronian wolf than any that can be adduced for the contrary opinion. At any rate, It is reasonably selected in the text of the poem as one of the most interesting relics of the ancient city,t and is certainly the figure, if not the very animal to which Virgil alludes in his beautiful verses: *' Geminos huk libera eireum I.udere pendente* puems, el lara!>ere matrem fmpavidos : illam tereli cervice reflexam M iiken; altei'uos, el curjiora fuigere luigui. J 47. For tlie Roman's mind Was modelfd in a less terrestrial mould. Stanza xc. lines 3 and 4. It is possible to be a very great man and to be- still very inferior to Julius Ca?sar~the most complete cha- racter, so Lord Bacon thought, of all antiquity. Nature seems incapable of such extraordinary combinations as composed his versatile capaci'v, which was the wonder even of the Romans themselves. The first general — the only triumphant politician — inferior to none in elo- 3uence — comparable to any in the attainments of wis- om, in an age made up of the greatest commanders, statesmen, orators, and philosophers that ever appeared in the world — an author who composed a perfect spe- cimen of military annals in his travelling carriage — at one time in a controversy with Cato, at another writing a treatise on punning, and collecting a set of good say- ings — fighting§ and making love at the same moment, and willing to abandon both his empire and his mistress fur a sight of the Fountains of the Nile. Such did Julius Caesar appear to his cotemporaries and to those of the subsequent ages, who were the most inclined to deplore and execrate his fatal genius. But we must not be so much dazzled with his sur- passing glory, or with his magnanimous, his amiable qualities, as to forget the decision of his impartial coun- trymen : HE WAS JUSTLY SLAIN. || 48. JfHiat from this barren being do we reap? Our senses narrow, and ow reason frail. Stanza xciii. lines 1 and 2. ". . . . omnes pene veteres ; qui nihil cognosci, nihil • " Art eomillum ficus olim Ruminalis evrminabat, sub qua lupie ru- mam. hoc est, rnammam, docrnte Van-one, sjuxerant olim Romulus et Reinm ; no» procul a templo hodie D. Maris Liberatricis appellato ubi forian Invent* nobilis ilia a?nea slalua tup* geminos puerulos lactantis, quam hodie in capilolio vidimus." OIni Borridm Antrim Urbii Ro- man* 1 Katies cap. x. See also cop. id!. Borrichiua wrote after Nardiui In 16*7. Ap. Gr«v. Anliq. Rom. torn. iv. p. 1522. | DonatUl, lib. (1. cap. 18. gives a medal representing on one aide the wolf in the same position hi th.it In the Capitol; and in t lie reverse the wolf wiili th< li'-.ul not reverted. It is of the lime of Antoninus Pius. ; Kn. viii. 631. See — Dr. Middle ton, in his Letter from Rome, who incttf>i*« io tli>- ' Icerooian crolf, but witlmul examining the subject. § In ht» tenth book, Lucan shows him sprinkled with the blood of Phar- fcmua In the hi ma of Cleopatra, Sanguine Theaanltcs clad'is perfusus adulter Adnuail Vetiertm curis.et miscuil armLs. After feasting with his mistress, he vita up all night to converse wilh the .Egyptian siifies, and tells Achoreus, Spes «lt mihi certa videndl Xiliacos fnutrs, bellum civile reliuquarn. " Sic velut in tuta securi pace Irahebanl Noctit iter medium." Immediately afterwards, he is lighting again Bud defending every position. " Sed adest defensor uhioue Csaaret hosadituagladiia, hoa ignibus arcet cceca nnclecarinis tnailuit Cssar semper feliciter usua Prccipiti cursu bcllorum et tempore rapto." I! " Jure casus existimelur," says Suetonius, after a fair estimation •f his character, and making use of a phrase which was a formula in Livy's lime. " Mel i urn jure cssum pronunliavit, etiam si regni crimine insons fueril t" [lib. iv. cap. 4S.| and which was continued in the legal Judgments pronounced in Justifiable homicides, such as killing house- breakers. See Sue ton. in Vit. C. J. Cesar, with the commentary of PiUscui, p. 184. percepi, nihil sciri posse dixerunt; angustos sensus, imbeciilos animos, brevia curricula vita? ; in profundo veritatem demersam ; opinionibus et institutes omnia tenen; nihil ventati relinqui: deinceps omnia tenebris circumfusa esse dixerunL''* The eighteen hundred years which have elapsed since Cicero wrote this have not removed any of the imperfections of humanity; and the complaints of the ancient philosophers may, without injustice or affectation, be transcribed in a poem written yesterday. 49. Tliere is a stern round tower of other days. Stanza xcix. line I. Alluding to the tomb of Cecilia Metella, called Capo di Bove, in the AppianWay. See — Historical Illustra- tions of the IVth Canto of Childe Harold. 50. Prophetic of the doom Heat en gives its favourites — early death. Stanza cii. lines 5 and 6. 'Ov 01 C£0( ipi\oi is were marie >""' his release. The French minister continued to delaut h.m, under theprelena that he «mj not an Englishman, but only a Roman, See " Interesting Facts relating to Joachim Mural," peg 138. 76 NOTES TO CHILDk. HAROLD. • IV. princes;* and it would be easier to find a sol rei uniting exactly the opposite characteristics, than one possessed of all the happy qualities ascribed to this emperor. "When he mounted the throne, m nistor.an Dion.t "he was strong in ho.lv, he wa ousin roiodjage had impaired none ol Ins (acuities; he was altogether free from envy and horn detraction; he honoured all the good, and he advanced l... in ..... on this account they could not he the objects ol his fear, or of his hate ; he never listened to ml innera ; he cave not wav to his anger; he abstained equally from unfair exactions and unjust punishments ; he had rather be loved as a man than honoured as a soyerei n was atrable with his people, respectful to the sen tti . and universally beloved by both ; he inspired none with dread hut the enemies of his country." 55. Rienzi, l/isl of Roman*. Stanza cxiv. line 5. The name and exploits of Rienri must be familiar to the reader of Gibbon. Some details and irisdited manuscripts relative to this unhappy hero will be seen in the Illustrations of the IVlh Canto. 56. Egeria! sweet creation of some heart I Vldch found no mortal resting-place so fair As tlunc ideal breast. Stanza cxv. lines 1, 2, awl 3. The respectable authority of Flaminius Vacca would inrline us to believe in the claims ol the l-.genuu grot'".. He assures us that he saw an inscription in the pave- ment, stating that the fountain was thai "I Kgeria, dedicat-J to the nymphs. The inscriptionis not there at thus day ; but Montfaucon quotes two lines* "I Ovid from a stone in the Villa Gitistiniani, which he seems to think had been brought from the same potto. Tins ..roito and valley were formerly frequented in summer and particularly the firal Sunday in May, by the modem Romans, who attached a Balubrious quality to the fountain which trickles from an orifice at the bottom of the vault, and, overflowing the hide pools, creeps down the matted grass inl i the brook below. The brook is the Ovidiail Almi, whose in qualities are lost m the modern Aquataccio. The valley itself is .ailed Valledi Cnffarelli, from the dukes ol that name who made over their fountain to the Pallau. mi with sixty rubbia of adjoining land. There can be little doubt that this long dell is the Egerian valley of Juvenal, and the pausing place ol Umbritius, notwithstanding the gi nerality of Ins com- mentators have supposed il"' descenl ol the sal his friend to have been into the rVrician grove, where the nymph met Hippolitus, and where she was more peculiarly worshipped. The step from the Porta Capena to Hie Alan hill, fifteen miles disiant, would he t.... considerable, unless we were to believe in the wild conjecture of Vossius, who makes that gate travel from lis present Station, 1, Usque ft. I n '»lr.'m .Tl.il.-n ,..l„r' .lis. . I I II ton .'..,■. Mm. to.ni • " H..]ui inntum mcmorla, delnlum *.i noo olncr in s.n.tii principil 4V01 STO • MELIOR . TiMJANO. JiD. Vlii. CUI). V. t TC, re yap to/iOti epoioro *ai rv;".*7 "*/"■><". ..eydA>.. ■■ «al .'.a To&raovri r^oaUrd riva ai'r&v, wvre tuftm . . .'iafioA.it,' re t|«:iix ra iiriffrev*, ml OPT*) iJ^." WovAoero* riv ri ,v,..,,^ru.v T«3i- .AWrpiov ■..'.. «1 .'..■ .»■ T'av Ml* I, uoAAuv t, n|*u,(iiwo5 >XakBC, ml toi ri a • rtj yr/povWa eriuvltoecirais w^.Ai. dya. r. tends it was during the reign of the kings, as far as the Arician grove, and then makes .' recede io us ..I.I site with the shrinking city.* The tufo, or pumice, ioel prefer* to marble, is the sub- mposing the bank in which the grotto is sunk. The m rapherel hud in the grotto the statue of ii..' nymph and nine niches for the Mu a late traveller] has discovered that the cave is n 10 that simplicity which tie poet regretted hi. id us ornament, lint the headless statue i- palpabh rather a male than a nymph, and has none "i" the attributes a. nil... I to u at pr. I , ,,, ... . stood m six n an 1 .lu\. nal CI rla.n.v .1".'- not allude to any individual rave.S Nothing .an I.- collected from the satirist but , ..... ...;., re i,, ,,, the Porta Capena "as a spol in which it was supposed Numa held nightly consu with his nymph, and where there was a grove and a .,,, ..... and i .in s once conse. I AIus. s , and ' spot there was a .1 into the valley of Egeria, where were several artificial caves, li is clear thai the slatui - of th< Muses made no pan .,f i he decoration which the satirist t misplaced in these cavi 9 ; for I..' exp fanes (.1. Libra) to these divinities above ihevalli i i, lis us that they had been ejected t" make t or the J"«s. Ill fuel, the little tempi., now .-alio. I ih ,t of Bacchus, was formerly thought to belong to the ; ud Nardini|| places them in a poplar grove, which was in his time above the valley. It is probable, from the inscription and position, that the cave now shown may bo one of the "artificial caverns," of which, indei d then is another a little way higher up the valley, under a tuft of alder bushes : but a tingle grotto of Egeria is a mere modern invi ntion, grafted upon th. application of the epithet Egerian to t m general, and which might send us lo ] .ok l.r the haunts of Numa upon the banks ol the Thames. Our Engli h Juv< nal •■■ I nol SI duced into li" anon by his acquaintance with Pope: he carefully preserves the correct plural — "Tl.r.ir. lalowl? W....1.I. The Egerinn gr^n , oh, hom .u.liWr ti Tie- valley abounds with springs,!! and over these springs, which the Mu u n haunl from their neigh* bouring groves, Egeria presi 1: heme she was -aid to supply them with water; an. I she was the nymph ot ih,- grottos through which the fountains were taught to flow. ... The whole of the monuments in the vicinity ol the Kgeriim valley have received names at will, which have I,.., I, , hanged 1 al will. \ enuti* ' owns 1 u traces of the temples of Jove, Saturn, Juno, Venus, and Diana, which Nardini found, or hoped to find. Tho im of Caracalla's circus, the temple ol Honour and Virtue tin- temple of Bai chus, ami. ibi temple of the god Rediculus, are the antiquaries' , i r i The circus nfCaracalla depends on a medal "I that emperor, ited by Fulvius Prainus, of which the reverse -I,.,'- - ., circus, supposed, however, by son.. ihe Circus Maximus. li gives .. very good idea of that place ol' exen ... 'I'll.- •".! has been bul littli |f we maj I - from the small cellular structure at i , , n i ol il i Spina, which was probably the of the god t'ouius. TVs cell is half beneath the soil, (ociias e .,,,,.„ e#iel t6« iUv ruiffe 4bf(O0< tl V lloin. ,iu - ho/ill. cap. •... >.. u>m. i. p. 1 13S. 1 134. a. Nftrdini, psg. 18, It.- .I..,- BU* ^ " lu viiu ju.inii...ia emi ingMU la|..« quftdratui Mltdai la 4.10 sulpta bac duo Ovlau car. ..inn ....a : fgrria eat qui- prirtn-t aquaa den FT^laCamceuia III., N.i m* 011)1111 x fon.ni.imq.ie full. I tidetur ax ftodern FcerUfontc, aul ejua vkiAia ialhuc compor- Uavnum Italic, p 133. • De Maenll. Vet. Ttom. np. r.r*T. Ant. Rom.lom. iv. p. 1507. I Echina . ..... R...nni,», crrettoilair ', ft, I l.-'v b.l.rvr ... ibeBTOltO ni.,1 nTmph. . icolplu lc acque a pie ill e.ao.o » Claaaieel Tour,chep. v. 1.. M7. rot. ... I 0s.. 1 .... . 1 .. area areiia madldamque CnpenaTj, Hie im Numa canal I Nunc anrrlfbn ml ir .1. 1, 1. ,.,..,..,., .1 phlnum feanamqiia aupellaz. ... i„ populo ....'..' ,!.... pi ...i. re luanseel A. el. ■ '■ 11 In aall. m, i la '- el spel.ii . .1,11:,. 00, : quuoto prtseuuiuaa eeeee N..1111 ., .-.]>. is, v.o.ll .1 .... idaa || Mh. lii cap. til. 1 o Undique e aolo eqne aei •• E. ..a, te.i k ell p WJ.SSS Nar.ln.1,1.1. lit. cnp.UI. Canto IV. NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. 77 as it must have been in the circus itself, for Dionysius* could not be persuaded to believe that this divinity was the Roman Neptune, because his altar was under ground. 57. Yet let us ponder bnUUy. Stanza cxxvii. line I. " At all events," says the author of the Academical Questions, "I trust, whatever may be the fate of my own speculations, that philosophy will regain that estimation which it ought to possess. The free and philosophic spirit of our nation has been the theme of admiration to the world. Tins was the proud distinc- tion of Englishmen, and the luminous source of all their glory. Shall we then forget tin* manly and dignified sentiments of our ancestors, to prate in the language of the mother or the nu*se about our good old preju- This is not the way to defend the cause of truth. It was not thus that our fathers maintained it in the brilliant periods of our history. Prejudice may be trusted to guard the outworks for a short space of time while reason slumbers in the citadel; but if the latter sink into a lethargy, the former will quickly erect a standard for herself. Philosophy, wisdom, and liberty, support each other: he who will not reason is a bigot ; he who cannot, is a fool ; and he who dares not, is a slave." Preface, p. xiv, xv. vol. i. 1S05. 68. Great Nemesis'. //ire, where the ancient paid thee homage long. Stanza exxxii. lines 2 and 3. We read in Suetonius, that Augustus, from a warning received in a dream, f counterfeited, once a year, the beggar, sitting before the gate of his palace with his hand hollowed and stretched out for charity. A statue formerly in the Villa Borghese, and which should be now at Paris, represents the Emperor in that posture of supplication. The object of this self degradation was the appeasement of Nemesis, the perpetual attendant on good fortune, of whose power the Roman conquerors were also reminded by certain symbols attached to their cars of triumph. The symbols were the whip and the erotaloj which were discovered in the Nemesis of the Vatican. The attitude of beggary made the above statue pass for that of Belisarius: and until the criti- cism of WinkelmannJ had rectified the mistake, one fiction was called in to support another. It was the same fear of the sudden termination of prosperity that made Amasis king of Egypt warn his friend Polycrates of Samos, that the gods loved those whose lives were chequered with good and evil fortunes. Nemesis was supposed to lie in wait particularly for the prudent; that is for those whose caution rendered them accessi- ble only to mere accidents: and her first altar was raised on the banks of the Phrygian -iEsepusby Adras- tus, probably the prince of that name who killed the son of Croesus by mistake. Hence the goddess was called Adrastea.§ The Roman Nemesis was sacred and au gust : there was a temple to her in the Palatine under the name of Rhamnusia:|| so great indeed was the propensity of the ancients to trust to the revolution of events, and to believe in the divinity of Fortune, that in the same Palatine there was a temple to the Fortune of the day.H This is the last superstition which retains its hold over the human heart ; and from concentrating in one object the credulity so natural to man, has always appeared strongest in those unembarrassed by other articles of belief. The antiquaries have supposed this goddess to * Anti.(. Rom. lib.ii. cap. xxxl. ) Sueton. in Vil. Auj;u«ii, cap. 91. Casaubon, tn the note, refers to Plutarch.'* Lives of Camillus and /Eini'i'js Puulus and also to hi* apoph- thegms, for the character of this deity. The hollowed hand was reckoned the Last decree of de^radntion ; nnd when the dead body of the pnefect Rufiiini was borne about in triumph by the people, the indignity wan in- created by pulling hia hand In that posi:ion. I Nloria dellc Arti, &C lib. iti. cap. iii. torn. 11. p. 422. Vlsconti calls the itKtue, however, n ( vl-'li. It ia given in the Museo Pio-Clemenl. .1 40. The AU'te Fea (SpiegaTJone dei Rami. Storia, fcc. torn. In. p. 613.1 crdl* it a Clinsippii?. % Diet, de Bayle, article Adrastea. II It is enumerated by the regmnary Victor. Tl Fortius hujuice diei. Cicci-o mention* Ur, de Legib. lib. it. be synonymous with Fortune and with Fate ;* but it was in her vindictive quality that she was worshipped under the name of Nemesis. 59. J see before me the Gladiator lie. Stanza cxl. line 1. Whether the wonderful statue which suggested this image be a laqueanan gladiator, which in spite of Winkelmann's criticism has been stoutly maintained,! or whether it be a Greek herald, as that great antiquary positively asserted, { or whether it is to be thought a Spartan or barbarian shield-bearer, according to the opinion of his Italian editor, § it must assuredly seem a copy of that masterpiece of Ctesilaus which represented " a wounded man dying who perfectly expressed what there remained of lite in him."|| M on t fa u con IF and Maf- fei + * thought it the identical statue ; but that statue was of bronze. The gladiator was once in the villa Ludo- vizi, and was bought by Clement XII. The right arm is an entire restoration of Michael Angelo.jt 60. He^ their sire. Butcher d to make a Roman holiday. Stanza cxb. lines 6 and 7. Gladiators were of two kinds, compelled and volun- tary ; and were supplied from several conditions: from slaves sold for that purpose; from culprits; from bar- barian captives either taken in war, and, after being led in triumph, set apart for the games, or those seized and condemned as rebels ; also from free citizens, some lighting for hire (auctorati,) others from a depraved ambition : at last even knights and senators were exhi- bited, a disgrace of which the first tyrant was naturally the first inventor. {£ In the end, dwarfs, and even women, fought ; an enormity prohibited by Severus. Of these the most to be pitied undoubtedly were the barbarian raptives : and to this species a Christian writer§§ justly applies the epithet " innocent," to distin- guish them from the professional gladiators. Aurelian and Claudius supplied great numbers of these unfortu- nate victims; the one after his triumph, and the other on the pretext of a rebellion. |||| No war, says Lipsius,H1T was ever so destructive to the human race as these snorts. In fpite of the laws of Constantine and Constans, gladiatorial shows survived the old established religion more than seventy years; but ihey owed their final extinction to the courage of a Christian. In the year 404, on the kalends of January, they were exhibiting the shows in the Flavian amphitheatre before the usual immense concourse of people. Almachius or Telema- chus, an eastern monk, who had travelled to Rome intent on his holy purpose, rushed into the midst of the arena, and endeavoured to separate the combatants. * DEAE NEMESI SIVE FORTUNAE PISTORIVS RVG1ANVS V. C LEGAT. LEG. XIII- G. CORD. See flneitinnes Romanic. &c. ftp. Gra*v. Antiq. Roman. Inm, v. p. 942. See also Muralori, Nov. Thesnnr. insciip. Vet. torn. i. p. 8S, H9. where there are three Latin and one Greek inscription to Nemesis, and others to Fate. I By the Abate Br acci.dismertaTione supra un clipen votiro, &e. Preface, pag. 7. who accounts for the cord round the neck, but not for the horn, which it does not nppearthe gladiators themselves ever used. Note A, Storiadelle Arti, loot. II. p. 2fVS. J Kiiher Polil'ontes, hrm'd of Lain", killed by CEdipns ; or repress, herald of F.nritheus. killed by the Athenians when he endeavoured to drag the Herftclide from the altar of mercy, and in whose honour they insti- tuted animal games, continued to the ume of Hadrian ; or Anlhemo- crilu*. the Athenian herald, killed hv the Mesnrenses, who never recov- ered the impiety. See Sturiadelle Arti.&c. lom. ii p. 203, 204, 205, 206, 207. lib. is. cap. ii. § Storia, &c. torn, it. p. 207. Not. (A.) II " Vulnera turn defu-iiMi tern feel! In (]«"> possjl intelligi quantum restat animai." Pirn. Nat. Hist. lib. xnxiv. cap. IF Antiq. lom. iii. par. 2. tab. 1S5. •* Racc.atat. tab.64. tt Mil*. Capitol, torn. iii. p. 154. edit. 1755. XX Julius Csssar. who rose by the fall of the aristocracy, brought Furiosi Lepiinua and A. Calenus upon the arena. §§ Terlidlian, " certe iiuidem el innocente* gladiatore* in ludum ven(- tint, el volupiatis puUicas hostile fiaut." Just. Lips. Saturn. Sermon. lib. ii. cap. iii. Illi Vopijcus, in vit. Aurel. and in vlt. Clau J. ibid. TIT! " Credo irooseio nullum helium Innl am clmVm vtntftiemque penerl hunianoinlulis*e,quam bos ad voluptatero 'idos." Just, l.ips. Ibtd lib. Leap, xii. 73 NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. Canto IV. The pnctor Alypius, a person incredibly attached to instant orders to the gladiators to slay him; and Telemachus gained the crown of mar- i and the title of saint, which surely has never either before or since been awarded for a more noble exploit. Honorius immediately abolished the shows, which were never afterwards revived. The story is told by Thcodorel and Cassiodorus,] and seems wor- thy of credit notwithstanding its place iri the Roman martyrology.§ Besides the torrents of blood which flowed at the funerals, in the amphitheatres, the circus, the forums, and other public places, gladiators were in- troduced at feasts, and tort* each other to pieces amidst the supper tables, to the great delight and applause of the guests. Yet Lipsius permits lu'mself to suppose the loss of courage, and the evident degeneracy of man- kind, to be nearly connected with the abolition of these bloody spectaclcs.|| 61. Here, where the Roman million's blame or praise IV as death or life, the playthings of a crowd. Stanza cxlii. lines 5 and 6. When one gladiator wounded another, he shouted, he htu it," "hoc habct," or " habet." The wounded combatam dropped Ins weapon, and advancing to the edge of the arena, supplicated the spectators. If he had fought well, the people saved him ; if otherwise, or as they happened to be inclined, they turned down their thumbs, and he was slain. They were occasionally so that ihey were impatient if a combat lasted longer than ordinary without wounds or death. The emperor's presence generally saved the vanquished; and it is recorded as an instance of Caracalla's ferocity, that he sent those who supplicated bun li>r life, in a spectacle at Nicomedia, to ask the people ; in other words, handed them over to be slain. A similar cere- mony is observed at the Spanish bull-tights. The magistrate presides ; and after the horsemen and picca- dores have fought the bull, the matadore steps forward and bows to him for permission to kill the animal. If the bull has done bis duty by killing two or three horses, or a man, which last is rare, the people interfere with shouts, the ladies wave their handkerchiefs, and the animal is saved. The wounds and death of the horses are accompanied with the loudest acclamations, and manv gestures of delight, especially from the ti ma! fiortion of the audience, including those of the gentlest dood. Every thing depends on nabit. The author of Cbilde Harold, the writer of this note, and one or two other Englishmen, who have certainly in other days borne the sight of a pitched battle, were, during thi Bummer of 1809, in the governor's box at the great am- phitheatre of Santa Maria, opposite to Cadiz. The' death of one or two horses completely satisfied their curiosity. A gentleman present, observing them shud- ill -r and look pale, noticed that unusual reception of so delightful a sport to some young ladies, who stared and smiled, and continued their applauses as another horse fell bleeding to the ground. One bull killed three horses off his own horns. He was saved by acclamations, which were redoubled when it was known be belonged to a priest. An Englishman, who can be much pleased with see> ing two Mini beat themselves to nieces, cannot hear to look at a horse galloping round an arena with his bowels trailing on the ground, and turns from ihe spectacle and the spectators with horror and disgust. 62. IJJte laurels on the baldjirst Cttsar y s heail. Stanza cxliv. line 6. Suetonius informs us that Julius Cesar was particti- * AugUttlDUl (lib. vi. eonfcu.cnp. fill.) "Alvptum »miin gladintori Bpec- i,i ■- nil ini.intu locredLblliter tbreptum," icribu. lb. lib. i.eap. Eli. 1 Hi«t . RcclM. cft|i. jlxv\, I ill . v. 1 '.' ti.-i.i.l, I'mimi liU, I. X. C. XI. S.'iliirn. lb. lb. 4 Baroiiltu. ad. nnn. et in noiia ml Mwtnvl. Rom. 1, Jnn. 9« — Marmngonl civile memorie sacre e profane deli' Anfilcatro Flavfo, p. 25. edit. 1746. ||"Q,»ioil? non tu Lipil momentum illqood babobH MlMMad Hrtu- tera? MtgniiQi Temporm nostra, nofqua lci*<>» vidutaui. Oppldum a -u,-. .i.nTr captain, dirtplurn sit lutnulliu circa no»,non in DnbU et Umto concldimiu et lurbkmur, ubl robur, nU lot pa unoi loplCDUJi atudia i ubl ilk- animu« qui dqmIi dlttfe, II fractua illahnitir orbit?" 4c. ibid lib. II. cnp. xiv The prototype o( Mr. Win lli.un t pnaugyric ou buU-taiiuig larlv gratified by that decree of the senate, which ena ill linn to wear a wreath of laurel on all occasions. He was anxious, not to show that he was the conqueror of the world, but to bide that he was bald. A stranger at Rome would hardly have guessed at the motive, not should we without the help of the historian. 63. While stands Ote Coliseum, Rome shall stand. Stanza cxlv. line I. This is quoted in the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire J and a notice on the Coliseum may be seen in [he Historical Illustrations to the IVth Cai^to of Childe Harold. 64. spared and hkst by time. Stanza cxlvi. line 3. " Though plundered of all its brass, except the ring which was necessary to preserve the aperture above ", though exposed to repeated fires, though sometimes flooded by the river, and always open to the rain, no monument of equal antiquity is so well preserved as this rotunda. It passed with little alteration from the Pagan into the present worship; and so convenient were its niches for the Christian altar, that Michael Angela, ever studious of ancient beauty, introduced their design as a model in the Catholic church." Forsyth's Remarks, &c. on Italy, p. 137. sec. edit. 65. And they who feel for genius may repose Their eyes on honour Vi farms, wfiose bust* around them close. Stanza cxivii. lines 8 and 9. The Pantheon has been made a receptacle for the busts of niodern great, or, at least, distinguished, men. The Hood of light which once fell through the large Hrfa above on the whole circle of divinities, now shines on a numerous assemblage of mortals, some one or two of whom have been almost deified by the veneration of their countrymen. 66. There is a dungeon, in whose dim drear tight. Stanza cxlviii. line 1. This and the three next stanzas allude to the story of the Roman daughter, which is recalled to the traveller by the site, or pretended site, of that adventure, now shown at the church of St. Nicholas in earcere. The difficulties attending the full belief of the tale arc stated in Historical Illustrations, &c. 67. Turn to the Mole, which Hadrian reared on high. Stanza clii. tine 1. The castle of St. Angelo. See — Historical Illustra tions. 68. Stanza cliii. This ami the six next stanzas have a reference to the church of St. Peter's. For a measurement of the com- parative length of this basilica, and the other great churches of Europe, see the pavement of St. Peter's, and the classical Tour through Italy, vol. U. pag. 125 et seq. chap. iv. 69. Vte strange fate TVhich tumbles miglUiest sotxreigns. Stanza clxxi. lines 6 and 7. Mary died on the scaffold ; Elizabeth of a broken heart; Charles V. a hermit; Louis XIV. a bankrupt in means and glory; Cromwell of anxiety ; and, "the greatest is behind, ' Napoleon lives a prisoner. To these sovereigns a long but superfluous list might be added of names equally illustrious and unhappy. 70. to, Nemi ! navelTd in the woody fails. Stanza clxxiii. line I. The village of Nemi was near the Arician retreat of Egeria, and from the shades which embosomed the temple of Diana, has preserved to this day its distinc* Canto tV. NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. 79 uve appellation of The Grove. Nemi is but an even- ing's ride from the comfortable inn of Albano. 71. nile, anil by following up the rivulet to the pretended Bandusia, you come to the roots of the higher mountain Gennaro. Singularly enough, the onlv spot of ploughed land in the whole valley is on the knoll where tins Ban- nusia rises. And afar The Ttf>cr winds, and the broad ocean laves T)ie Lilian coast, &c. &c. Stanza clxxiv. lines 2, 3, and 4. The whole declivity of the Alban hill is of unrivalled beauty, and from the convent on the highest point, which has succeeded to the temple of the Latian Jupiter, the prospect embraces all the objects alluded to in the cited trickles over into the Diffenti stanza; the Mediterranean; the whole scene of the latter half of the jEncid. and the coast from beyond the mouth of the Tiber to the headland of Circseum and the Cape of Terracina. The site of Cicero's villa may be supposed either at the Grotta Ferrata, or at the Tusculum of Prince Lu- cien Buonaparte. The former was thought some vears ago the actual "... . tu frigns atnabile Fessia vomere tauria Prmbes, et peeon vago." The peasants show another spring near the mosaic pavement which they call "Oradina, and which flows down the hills into a tank, or mill-dam, and thence ickles over into the Dige But we must not hope "To irace Uie Muses upwards lo Ibelr spring " by exploring the windings of the romantic valley in search of the Bandusian fountain. It seems strange that any one should have thought Bandusia a fountain of the Digentia — Horace has not let drop a word of it ; and this immortal spring has in fact been discovered in •ite, as may be seen from Middleton's Life" of Cicero, possession of the holders of many good .things in Italy, At present it has lost something of its credit, except for tiie monks - Tt was attached to the church of St. GeV- the Domenichinns. Nin« mnnU nf iK« (Zr<> a \, nv ,i„ vais and Protais near Venusia, where it was most likely to be found.* We shall not be so lucky as a late traveller in rinding the occasional pine still pendent on the poetic villa. There is not a pine in the whole valley, hut there are two cypresses, which he evidently took, "or mistook, [for the tree in the ode.j The truth is, that the pine is now, as it was in the days of Virgil, a garden tree, and it was not at all likely to be found in the craggy aci LWi- ties of the valley of Rustica. Horace probably had one of them in the orchard close above his farm, imme- diately overshadowing his villa, not on the rocky heights at some distance from Ins abode. The tourist may have easily supposed himself to have seen this pine figured in the above cypresses, for the orange and lemon trees which throw such a bloom over his description of the royal gardens at Naples, unless thev have been since displaced, were assuredly only acacias and other com- mon garden shrubs.} The extreme disappointment experienced by choosing the Classical Tourist as a guide in Italy must be allowed to find vent in a few observations, which, it is asserted without fear of con- tradiction, will be confirmed by every one who has selected the same conductor through the same country- This author is in fact one of the most inaccurate, unsa- tisfactory writers that have in our times" attained a temporary reputation, and is very seldom to be trusted even when he speaks of objects which he must be pre- sumed to have seen. His errors, from the simple exaggeration to the downright misslatement, are so frequent as to induce a suspicion that he had either never visited the spots described, or had trusted to the fidelity of former writers. Indeed the Classical Tour has every characteristic of a mere compilation of former notices, strung together upon a very slender thread jjf personal observation, ana swelled out hy those deco=- rations which are so easily supplied by a systematic adoption of all the common places of praise, applied to every thing, and therefore signifying nothing. The style which one person thinks cloggy and cum- brous, and unsuitable, may be to the taste of others, and such may experience some sa'utary excitement in ploughing through the periods of the Classical Tour. It must be said, however, that polish and weight are apt to beget an expectation of value. It is amongst the pains of the damned to toil up a climax with a huges round stone. The tourist had the choice of his words, but there was no such latitude allowed to that of his sentiments. The love of virtue and of liberty, which must have dis- tinguished the character, certainly adorns the pages of' Mr. Eustace, and the gentlemanly spirit, so recommen- datory either in an author or his productions, is very conspicuous throughout the Classical Tour. But these generous qualities are the foliage of such a performance, and may be spread about it so prominently, and pro- live there, and the adjoining villa is a cardinal's sum- mer-house. The other villa, called Rufinella, is on the summit of the hill above Frascati, and many rich re- mains of Tusculum have been found there, besides seventy-two statues of different merit and preservation, and seven busts. From the same eminence are seen the Sabine hills, embosomed in which lies the long valley of Rustica. There are several circumstances which tend to esta- blish the identity of this valley with the " Ustira" of Horace ; and it seems possible that the mosaic pave- ment which the peasants uncover by throwing up the earth of a vineyard may belong to his villa. Rustica is pronounced short, not according to our stress upon — u Ustira cubanlis." — It is more rational to think that we are wrong than that the inhabitants of this secluded valley have changed their tone in this word. The addi- tion of the consonant prefixed is nothing; yet it is neces- sary to be aware that Rustica may be a modern name which the peasants may have caught from the antiqua- ries. The villa, or the mosaic, is in a vineyard on a knoll covered with chestnut trees. A stream runs down the valley, and although it is not true, as said in the guide books, that this stream is called Licenza, yet there is a village on a rock at the head of the valley which is so denominated, and which may have taken its name from the Digenlia. Licenza contains 700 inhabitants. On a peak a little way beyond is Civitella, containing 300. On the banks of the Anio, a little before you turn up into Valle Rustica, to the left, about an hour from the villa, is a town called Vicovaro, another favourable coinci- dence with the Varia of the poet. At the end of the valley, towards the Anio, there is a bare hill, crowned with a little town called Bardela. At the foot of this hill the rivulet of Licenza flows, and is almost absorbed in a wide sandy bed bofore it reaches the Anio. Nothing can be more fortunate for the lines of the poet, whether in a metaphorical or direct sense : " Me quotient relicil gelidua Digentia rirut, Uucm Mandela bibil rugoius frigore pagns." The stream is clear high up the valley, but before it reaches the hill of Bardela looks green and yellow like a sulphur rivulet. Rocca Giovane, a ruined village in the hills, half an hour's walk from the vineyard where the pavement is shown, does seem to be the sight of the fane of Vacuna, and an inscription found there tells that this temple of the Sabine Victory was repaired by Vespasian.* With Jiese helps, and a position corresponding exactly to every thing which the poet has told us of his retreat, we may feel tolerably secure of our site. The hill which should be Lucretilis is called Campa- • IMP. CSSAR VESPASIANVS PONTIFBX MAX1MVS. TR1B POTEST. CBNSOR. jEDEM VICTOR!*. VETV5TATE ILLAPSAK. *VA. UJPBXSA.. RXSTITVIT. • See— "Historical Illustration* »f the Fourth Canto, p. 43. tSec— Clawicd Tour, fte. chap. »ii.p.250. »ul. il. {" Under our windowe, ami bordering on the beach, is the royaler, den, laid out in parterret. and walk* ahadcrl by rowi of orange lrci»." ClwLc&l Tour, 4c. cb»i - xi. vol. u, ocl. 965. 80 NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD. Caitto \\. fusely as to embarrass those who wish to see and find the fruit at hand. The unction of the divine, and the exhortations of the moralist, may have made this work something more and belter than a book of travels, but they have not made it a book of travels ; and this ob- servation applies more especially to that enticing method of instruction conveyed by the perpetual introduction of the same Gallic Helot to reel ami bluster before the rising generation, and terrtfy it into decency by the dis- play of all the excesses of the revolution. An animosity against atheists and regicides in general] and French- men .specifically, may be honourable, and may be useful as a record ; but that antidote should okhex be admi- nistered in any work rather than a tour, or, at least should be served up apart, ami not bo mixed with the whole mass of information and reflection, as to give b bitterness to every page: for who would choose to have the antipathies of any man, however just, for his travel- ling companions ? A tourist, unless be aspires to the credit of prophecy, is not answerable for the changes which may take place in the country which he describes ; but his reader may very fairly esteem all his pollticaJ portraits and deductions as so much waste paper, the moment they cease to assist, and more particularly if they obstruct, his actual survey. Neither encomium nor accusation of any government, or governors, is meant to be here offered ; but it is stated as an incontrovertible fact, that the change ope- rated, either by ihe address of the late imperial system, or by the disappointment of every expectation by those who have succeeded to the Italian thrones, has been so considerable, and is so apparent, as not only to put Mr. Eustace's antigallican philippics entirely out of date, but even to throw some suspicion upon the competency and candour of the author himself. A remarkable ex- ample may be found in the instance of Bologna, over whose papal attachments, and consequent desolation, the tourist pours forth such strains of condolence and revenge, made louder by the borrowed trumpet of Mr. Burke. Now Bologna is at this moment, and has been for some years, notorious amongst the states of Italy for its attachment to revolutionary principles, and vai almost the only city which made any demonstrations in favour of the unfortunate Murat. ^his change may. however, have been made since Mr. Eustace visited this country; but the traveller whom he has thrilled wnli horror at the projected slrinping of the copper from the cupola of St. Peter's, must be much relieved to find that sacrilege out of the power of the French, or any other plunderers, the copula being covered with lea'l.* If the conspiring voice of otherwise rival critics had me the nstnniihment, or rather the horror, of toj render, when 1 inform him the French commi-.'.ee turned ■u nutrition U Saint Pater'*, toil employed a companv of Jews to esti- mate ond purchase the gold, silver, antl bronre that adurn Ihe insiite of the edifice, at well i\» the co|>[i«r that covers the vaulia and dome on the ouulde." I . hnn. iv. p. 13u. vol. ii. The story about '.lie Jews U posi- tively denied al Home. THE GIAOUR; A FRAGMENT OF A TURKISH TALE. Oue fnl»l remembrance — one sorrow that throws Its bleak shade alike o'er our joys and our woes— To which life nothing darker nor brighter can bring, For which joy hath no balm, and affliction no sling. Moore. TO SAMUEL ROGERS, ESQ.. AS A SLIGHT BUT MOST SINCERE TOKEN OF ADMIRATION OF HIS GENIUS, RESPECT FOR HIS CHARACTER, AND GRATITUDE FOR HIS FRIENDSHIP, THIS PRODUCTION IS INSCRIBED, BY HIS OBLIGED AND AFFECTIONATE SERVANT, BYRON. ADVERTISEMENT. The Tale which these disjointed fragments present, is founded upon circumstances now less common in the East than formerly ; either because the ladies are more circumspect than in the "olden time;'' or be- cause the Christians have better fortune, or less en- terprise. The story, when entire, contained the adventures of a female slave, who was thrown, in the Mussulman manner, into the sea for infidelity, and avenged by a young Venetian, her lover, at the time the Seven Islands were possessed by the Republic of Venice, and soon after the Arnaouts were beaten back from the Morea, which they had ravaged for some time subsequent to the Russian invasion. The desertion of the Mauiotes, on being refused the plun- der of Mtsitra, led to the abandonment of that enter- prise, and to the desolation of the Morea, during which the cruelty exercised on all sides was unpa- ralleled even in the annals of the faithful. THE GIAOUR. No breath of air to break the wave That rolls below the Athenian's grave, That tomb J which, gleaming o'er the cliff, First greets the homeward-veering skiff, High o'er the land he saved in vain : When snafl such hero live again ? ****** Fair clime ! where every season smiles Benignant o'er those blessed isles, Which, seen from far Colonna's height, Make glad the heart that hails the sight, And lend to loneliness delight. There, mildly dimpling, Ocean's cheek Reflects the tints of many a peak Caught by the laughing tides that lave These Edens of the eastern wave ; And if, at times, a transient breeze Break the blue crystal of the seas, Or sweep one blossom from the trees, How welcome is each gentle air That wakes and wafts the odours there! For there — the rose o'er crag or vale, Sultana of the nightingale, 2 The maid for whom his melody, His thousand songs are heard on high, Blooms blushing to her lover's tale : His queen, the garden queen, his rose^ Unbent by winds, unchill'd by snows, Far from the winters of the west, By every breeze and season blest, Returns the sweets by Nature given, In softest incense back to heaven; And grateful yields that smiling sky Her fairest hue and fragrant sigh. And many a summer flower is there, And many a shade that love might «hare, And many a grotto, meant for rest That holds the pirate for a guest ; Whose bark in sheltering cove below Lurks for the passing peaceful prow Till the gay mariner's guitar 3 Is heard, and seen the evening star Then stealing with the muffled oar, Far shaded by the rocky shore, Rush the night-prowlers on the prey, And turn to groans his roundelay. Strange — that where Nature lovM to trace As if for gods, a dwelling-place, And every charm and grace hath mix'd Within the paradise she fix'd, There man, enamour'd of distress, Should mar it into wilderness, And trample, brute-like, o'er each flower That tasks not one laborious hour ; Nor claims the culture of his hand To bloom along the fairy land, 82 THE GIAOUR. But springs as to preclude his care, And sweetly woos him — but to spare! Strange — that where all is peace beside Then passion riots in her pride, And lust and rapine wildlv To darken o'er the fair domain. Ii is as though the fiends prevail'd Against the seraphs they assaiPd, Ami, fixed on heavenly thrones, should dwell The Greed inheritors of hell; So soft the scene, so fbrm'd for So curst the tyrants thai destro; He who hath bent him o'er the dead, Ere the first day of death is fled, The first dark day of nothtngn* The last of danger and di (Before decay's effacing Gngi rs Have swept the hues where beauty lingers,) And mark'd the mild angelic air, The rapture of repose that's there, The uaM, yet tender traits that streak The languor of the placid cheek, And — but for that sad shrouded aye. That fires not, wins not, weeps not, now, And but for that chill, changeless brow, Where cold obstruction's apathy' 1 Appals the gazing mourner's heart, As if to him it could impart The doom he dreads, yet dwells upon; Yes, but for these, and these alone, Some moments, ay, one treacherous hour He still might doubt the tyrant's power; So fair, so calm, so softly seal'd, The first, last took by death revearM!' Such is the aspect of this shore; T is Greece, but living Greece no more! So coldly sweet, so deadly f.iir, We start, f_-r soul is wanting there. Hers is the loveliness in death, That parts not quite with parting breath; But beauty with that fearful bloom, That hue which haunts it to the tomb, Expression's last receding ray, A gilded halo hovering round decay, The farewell beam of feeling past away! Spark of that flame, perchance of heavenly birth, Which gleams, but warms no more its ch< earth ! Clime of the unforgotten brave ! Whose land from plain to mountain-cave Was freedom's home or glory's grave! Shrine of the mighty! can it be, That this Is all remains of thee? Approach, thou crave:) crouching slavo Say, is not this Thermopylae - / These waters bine that round you lave, Oh servile offspring of the free — Pronounce what sea, whal shore Is this? The gulf, the rock of Satsmis ' These scenes, their story not unknown, Arise, and make again your own ; Snatch from the ashes of your sires The embers of their former fires; And he who in the strife expires Will add to theirs a name of fear That tyranny shall quake to hear, And leave his sons a hope, z, fame They too will rather die than shame : For freedom's battle once begun, Bequeathed by bleeding sire to son, Though baffled oft, is ever wmi. Bear witness, Greece, thy living page, Attest it many a deathless age ! While kings, in dusty darkness hid, Have l< fl a nameless pyramid, Thy heroes, though the general doom Hath swept the column from their tomb, A mightier monument commi The mountains of their native land! rtl eye The g] a that cannot d "]' u. re long to tell, and sad to trace, Each step from 'o disgrace; Enough — no foreign (be could quell Thy soul, dll IV «n itself it fell; Yes ' self-ab ed the way To villain-bonds and despot-sway. What can he tell who trends thy shore? No legend of thine olden lime, No theme on which the muse might soar High as thine own in days of yore, When man n ta worthy of thy clime. The hearts within thy valleys bred, The fury souls that might have led Thv ime, Now crawl from cradle to the grave, nay, the bondsmen of a slave,* And callous, save to crime; StainM with each evil that p Mankind] where leasl above tho brutes; Without cviMi savage virtue blest, Without one free or valiant breast. Still to the neighbouring ports they waft .' n :'.-, .in ! ant 1 1 nl craft; In this the subtle Greek is found, For this, and this alone, renowtrtl. In vam might liberty ii Or raise the neck that courts the yoke: ! wail, Yei this « ill be mournful tale, And they who listen may I < Who heard it first had cause to grieve. ****** m Far, dark, along the blue-sea glancing The shadows of the rocks advancing, Start on the fisher's eye like- boat Of island-pirate or Mainote; And, fearful for his light caique, lie shuns the near, hut doubtful creek: Though worn and weary wi h his toil, And cuinb.nl with his scaly spoil, Slowrj , yet'stroi I be oar, Till Port Leone's safer shore Receives him by the lovely light Thai best becomes an eastern night. **»* + ** "Who thundering comes on blackest steed Willi slackened bit, and hoof of si 1 Beneath the clattering iron'e 1 wake around In lash for lash, and bound for b-und; 1 1 that streaks the courserfe side Seems gathered from the ocean-tide; Though weary waves are sunk to rest 'I'll. T. 's none within his rider's breast ; And though to-morrow's tempest lower, 'Tis calmer than thy heart, young Giaour T I know thee not, I loathe thy race, But in thy hmanjents I trace What rune shall strengthen, not efface: Though young and pale, that sallow front Is scathed by fiery passion's brunt; [h bent on earth thine evil 1 \- meteor-like thou glidest by, Right well I view and deem thee one Whom Utliman's sous should slay or shun THE GIAOUR. 83 On — on he Lastentd, and he drew My gaze of wonder as he flew : Though like a demon of the night He pass'd and vanished from my sight, His aspect and his air imprcss'd A troubled memory on my breast, And long upon my startled ear Rung his dark courser's hoofs of fear. He spurs his steed ; he nears the steep, That, jutting, shadows o'er the deep ; He winds around ; he hurries by ; The rock relieves him from mine eye ; For well I ween unwelcome he Whose glance is fiVd on those that flee And not a star but shines too bright On him who takes such timeless flight, lie wound along; but, ere he pass'd, One glance he snatch'd, as if his last, A moment check'd las wheeling steed, A moment breathed him from liis speed] A moment on his stirrup stood — Why looks he o'er the olive-wood ? The crescent glimmers on the hill. The mosque's high lamps are quivering still: Though too remote for sound to wake In echoes of the far tophaike, 6 The flashes of each joyous peal Aie seen to prove the Moslem's zeal. To-night, set Rhamazani's sun; To-night the Bairam feast's begun; To-night — but who and what art thou, Of foreign garb and fearful brow ? And what are these to thine or thee, That thou shouldst either pause or flee ? He stood — some dread was on his face, Soon hatred settled in its place It rose not with the reddening flush Of transient anger's darkening blush, But pale as marble o'er the tomb, Whose ghastly whiteness aids its gloom. His brow was bent, his eye was glazed, He raised his arm, and fiercely raised, And sternly shook his hand on high, As doubting to return or fly : Impatient of bis flight delay 'd, Here loud his raven charger neigh'd — Down glanced that hand, and grasped his blade ; That sound had burst his waking dream, As slumber starts at owlet's scream. The spur hath lanced his coursers sides ; Away, away, for life he rides ; Swift as the hurl'd on high jerreed, 9 Springs to the touch his startled steed ; The rock is doubled, and the shore Shakes with the clattering tramp no more ; The crag is won, no more is seen His Christian crest and haughty mien. 'Twas but an instant he restrain' d That fiery barb so sternly rein'd : T was but a moment that he stood, Then sped as if by death pursued ; But in that instant o'er his soul Winters of memory seem'd to roll, And gather in that drop of time A life of pain, an age of crime. O'er him who loves, or hates, or fears, Such moment pours the grief of years What felt he then, at once opprest By all that most distracts the breast? That pause, winch ponder'd o'er his fate, Oh, who its dreary length shall date '. Though in time's record nearly nought, It was eternity to thought ! For infinite as boundless space The thought that conscience must embrace, Which in itself can comprehend Wo without name, or hope, or end. The hour is past, the Giaour is gone And did he fly or fall alone ? Wo to that hour he came or went ! The curse for Hassan's sin was sent, To turn a palace to a tomb: He came, he went, like the simoom, 10 That harbinger of fate and gloom, Beneatli whose widely- wasting breath The very cypress droops to death — Dark tree, still sad when others' grief is fled. The only constant mourner o'er the dead ! The steed is vanisli'd from the stall ; No serf is seen in Hassan's hall ; The lonely spider's thin gray pall Waves slowly widening o'er the wall, The bat builds in his haram bower ; And in the fortress of his power The owl usurps the beacon-tower ; The wild-dog howls o'er the fountain's brim, With baffled thirst, and famine grim ; For the stream has shrunk from its marble bed, Where the weeds and the desolate dust are spread, 'T was sweet of yore to see it play, And chase the sultriness of day, As, springing high, *.he silver dew In whirls fantastically flew, And flung luxurious coolness round The air, and verdure o'er the ground. 'T was sweet, when cloudless stars were bright, To view the wave of watery light, And hear its melody by night, And oft had Hassan's childhood playM Around the verge of that cascade ; And oft upon his mother's breast That sound had harmonized his rest; And oft had Hassan's youth along Its bank been soothed by beauty's song; And softer seemed each melting tone Of music mingled with its own. But ne'er shall Hassan's age repose Along the brink at twilight's close : The stream that filTd that font is fled- The blood that warm'd his heart is shed! And here no more shall human voice Be heird to rage, regret, rejoicej The last sad note that swell' d the gale Was woman's wildest funeral wail: That quench'd in silence, all is still, But the lattice that flaps when the wind is shrill: Though raves the gust, and floods the rain, No hand shall close its clasp again. On desert sands 'twere joy to scan The rudest steps of fellow man — So here the very voice of grief Might wake an echo like relief; At least 'twould say, K all are not gone; There lingers life, though but in one— - * For many a gilded chamber J s there, "Which solitude might well forbear; Within that dome as yet decay Hath slowly work'd her cankering way — But gloom is gathered o'er the gate Nor there the fakir's self will wait; Nor there will wandering dervise stay For bounty cheers not his delay ; Nor there will weary stranger halt To bless the sacred "bread and salt." 11 Alike must wealth and poverty Pass heedless and unheeded by, For courtesy and pity died With Hassan on the mountain side. His roof, that refuge unto men, Is desolation's hungry den. 84 THE GIAOUR. The guest Hies the hull, and the vassals from labour, Since his turban was cleft by the infidel's sabre ! 12 * * * * * * I hear the sound of coming feet, But not a voice mine ear to greet; More near — each turban I can scan, And silver-sheathed ataghan ; ia The foremost of the band is Been, An emir by his garb of green : 14 "Ho! who art thou? — this low salam 1S Replies of Moslem faith I am. The burden ye so gently bear, Seems one that claims your utmost care, And, doubtless, holds some precious freight, My humble bark would gladly wait." "Thou spcakest sooth, thy skiff" unmoor, And waft us from the silent shore ; Nay, leave the sail still furl'd, and ply The nearest oar that *s scatter'd by ; And midway to those rocks where sleep The channeled waters dark and deep, Rest from your task — so— bravely done, Our course has been right swiftly run Yet 't is the longest voyage, I trow, That one of n ****** Sullen it plungM, and slowly sank, The calm wave rippled to the bank ; I watch'd it as it sank, methought Some motion from the current caught Bestirr'd it more, — 't was but the beam That chequer'd o'er the living stream : I gazed, till vanishing from view, Like lessening pebble it withdrew : Still less and less, a speck of white That gemm'd the tide, then mock'd the sight ; And all its hidden secrets sleep, Known but to genii of the deep, Which, trembling in ilnir coral caves They dare not whisper to the waves. + * * * * • As rising on its purple wing The insect-queen 16 of eastern spring, O'er emerald meadows of Kasluneer Invites the young pursuer near, And leads him on from flower to flower A weary chase and wasted hour, Then leaves him, as it soars on high, Willi panting heart and tearful eye : So beauty lures the full-grown child, With hue as bright, and wing as wild ; A chase of idle hopes and fears, Begun in folly, closed in tears. If won, to equal ills betray'd, Wo waits the insect and the maid A life of pain, the loss of peace, From infant's play, and man's caprice: The lovely toy so fiercely sought HaUi lost its charm by being caught. For every touch that wooed its stay Hath brush'd its brightest hues away, Till, i.lmrm, and hue, and beauty gone, *T Is kft to fly or fall alone. With wounded wing, or bleeding breast, Ah! where shall either victim rest? Can this with faded pinion soar From rose to tulip as before ? Or beauty, blighted in an hour, Find joy within her broken bower ? No ! gayer insects fluttering by No'er droop the wing o'er those that die, And lovelier things have mercy shown To every failing but their own, And every wo a tear can claim Except an erring sister's shame. The mind, that broods o'er guilty woes, Is like the scorpion girt by fire, In circle narrowing as it glows, The flames around their captive close, Till, inly scarch'd by thousand throes, And maddening in her ire, One sad and sole relief she knows, The sting she nourish'd for her foes, Whose venom never vet was vain, Gives but one pang, and cures all pain, And darts into her desperate brain: So do the dark in soul expire, Or live like scorpion girt by fire ; ,T So writhes the mind remorse hath riven, Unfit for earth, undoom'd (br heaven, Darkness above, despair beneath, Around it flame, within it death ! Black Hassan from the haram flies, Nor bends on woman's form bis eyes; The unwonted chase each hour employs, Yet shares he not the hunter's joys. Not thus was Hassan wont to fly When Leila dwell in his Serai. Dotli Leila there no longer dwell ? That tale can only Hassan tell: Strange rumours in our city say Upon that eve she lied away, When Rhamazan's ,8 last sun was set, And, flashing from each minaret, Millions of lamps proclaim'd the feast Of Bairam through the boundless east. 'T was then she went as to the bath, Which Hassan vainly searched in wrath , For she was flown her masters rage, In likeness of a Georgian pa^e, And far beyond the Moslem's power Had wrong'd him with the faithless Giaoo, Somewhat of this had Hassan deem'd ; But still so fond, so fair she seem'd, Too well he trusted to the slave Whose treachery deserv'd a grave : And on that eve bad gone to mosque, And thence to feast in his kiosk. Such is the tale bis Nubians tell, Who did not watch their charge too well4 But others say, that on that night, By pale Phingaris ,9 trembling tight, The Giaour upon his jet black steed Was seen, but seen alone to speed With bloody spur along the shore, Nor maid nor page behind him bore. *****, Her eyes dark charm h were vain to tell. But gaze on that of the gazelle, It will assist thy fancy well ; As large, as languishingly dark, But soul beam'd forth in every spark That darted from beneath the lid, Bright as the jewel of Giamschid. *° Yea, soul, and should our prophet say That form was nought but brcaUiing clay, By Alia! I would answer nay; Though on Al-Sirat's ai arch I stood Which totters o'er the fiery flood, With paradise within my view, And all his houris beckoning through. THE GIAOUR. 85 Oh ! who young Leila's glance could read And keep that portion of Ids creed 22 Which saith that woman is but dust, A soulless toy for tyrant's lust ? On her might muftis gaze, and own That through her eye the Immortal shone; On her fair cheek's unfading hue The young pomegranate's 2J blossoms strew Their bloom in blushes ever new ; Her hair in hyacinthine 2 * flow, When left to roll its folds below, As 'midst her handmaids in the hall She stood superior to them all, Hath swept the marble where her feet Gleam'd whiter than the mountain sleet, Ere from the cloud that gave it birth It fell, and caught one stain of earth. The cygnet nobly walks the water ; So moved on earth Circassia's daughter, The loveliest bird of Franguestan ! 25 As rears her crest the ruffled swan, And spurns the wave with wings of pride, When pass the steps of stranger man Along the banks that bound her tide ; Thus rose fair Leila's whiter neck : — Thus arm'd with beauty would she check Intrusion's glance, till folly's gaze Shrunk from the charms it meant to praise. Thus high and graceful was her gait ; Her heart as tender to her mate ; Her mate — stern Hassan, who was he ? Alas ! that name was not for thee ! ***** Stern Hassan hath a journey ta'en With twenty vassals in his train, Each arm'd, as best becomes a man, With arquebuss and ataghan ; The chief before, as deck'd for war, Bears in his belt the scimitar Stain'd with the best of Arnaut blood, When in the pass the rebels stood, And few return'd to tell the tale Of what befell in Parne's vale. The pistols which liis girdle bore Were those that once a pasha wore, Winch still, though gemm'd and boss'd with gold, Even robbers tremble to behold. T is said he goes to woo a bride More true than her who left his side; The faithless slave that broke her bower, And, worse than faitldess, for a Giaour ! * ' * * * * * The sun's last rays are on the hill, And sparkle in the fountain rill, Whose welcome waters, cool and clear, Draw blessings from the mountaineer: Here may the loitering merchant Greek Find that repose 't were vain to seek In cities lodged too near his lord, And trembling for his secret hoard — Here may he rest where none can see, In crowds a slave, in deserts free ; And with forbidden wine may stain The bowl a Moslem must not drain. The foremost Tartar 's in the gap, Conspicuous by tiis yellow cap; The rest in lengthening line the while Wind slowly through the long defile : Above, the mountain rears a peak, Where vultures whet the thirsty beak, And theirs may be a feast to-night, Shall tempt them down ere morrow's light ; Beneath, a river's wintry stream Has shrunk before the summer beam, And left a channel bleak and bare, Save shrubs that spring to perish there : Each side the midway path there lay Small broken crags of granite gray, By time, or mountain lightning, riven From summits clad in mists of heaven ; For where is he that hath beheld The peak of Liakura imveil'd ? ******* They reach the grove of pine at last : K Bismillah ! 26 now the peril 's past; For yonder view the opening plain, And there we '11 prick our steeds amain* 1 ' The Chiaus spake, and as he said, A bullet whistled o'er his head ; The foremost Tartar bites the ground ! Scarce had they time to check the rein, Swift from their steeds the riders bound ; But three shall never mount again: Unseen the foes that gave the wound, The dying ask revenge in vain. With steel unsheathed, and carbine bent, Some o'er their courser's harness leant, Half shelter'd by the steed ; Some fly behind the nearest rock, And there await the coming shock, Nor tamely stand to bleed BeneaUi the shaft of foes unseen, Who dare not quit their craggy screen. Stem Hassan only from his horse Disdains to light, and keeps his course, Till 6ery flashes in the van Proclaim too sure the robber-clan Have well secured the only way Could now avail die promised prey ; Then curl'd his very beard 2T with ire, And glared his eye with fiercer fire : " Though far and near the bullets hiss, I 've scaped a bloodier hour than this.' 1 And now the foe their covert quit, And call his vassals to submit ; But Hassan's frown and furious word Are dreaded more than hostile sword, Nor of liis little band a man Resign'd carbine or ataghan, Nor raised the craven cry, Amaun ! 2a In fuller sight, more near and ii'-nr, The lately ambush'd foes appear, And, issuing from the grove, advance Some who on battle-charger prance. Who leads them on with foreign brand, Far flashing in his red right hand ? -*'T is he ! 't is he ! I know liim now ; I know him by his pallid brow ; I know him by the evil eye 29 That aids his envious treachery ; I know him by his jet-black barb: Though now array 'd in Arnaut garb, Apostate from his own vile faith, It shall not save him from the death 'T is he ! well met in any hour ! Lost Leila's love, accursed Giaour !" As rolls the river into ocean, In sable torrent wildly streaming ; As the sea-tide's opposing motion, In azure column proudly gleaming, Beats back the current many a rood, In curling foam and mingling flood, While eddying whirl, and breaking wave- Roused by the blast of winter, rave ; Through sparkling spray, in thundering ctorfh, The lightnings of the waters flash 86 THE GfAOUR. In awful whiteness > p: the shore, Nor shrink they from the summer heat ; That shines and stbites beneath the roar ; Why sends not the bridegroom his promised gift? Thus — as the strearc and ocean greet, Is his heart more cold, or his barb less swift? With waves that madden as they meet — Oh, false reproach ! yon Tartar now Thus join the bands, whom mutual wrong, Has gain'd our nearest mountain's brow, And fate, and fury, drive along. And warily the steep descends, The bickering sabres' shivering jar ; And now within the vail* v bends ; And pealing wide or ringing near And he bears the gift at his saddlebow- Its echoes on the tiirobbing ear, How could 1 deem his courser slow? The death-shot hissing from afar ; Right well my largess shall repay The shock, the shout, the groan of war, His welcome speed, and weary way.* Reverberate along that vale, The Tartar lighted at the gate, More suited to the shepherd's talc: But scarce upheld his fainting weight Though few the numbers — theirs the strife, His swarthy visage spake disin That neither spares nor speaks for life ! But this might be from weariness ; Ah ! fondly youthful hearts can press, His earb with sanguine spots was dyed, To seize and share the dear caress; But these mi^'ht be from his courser's side; But love itself could never pant lie drew the token from his vest — For all that beauty Btghs to grant Angel of Death! 't is Hassaris cloven crest With half the fervour hate bestows His calpac 31 rent — his caftan red — Upon the last embrace of foes, "Lady, a fearful bride thy son hath wed" When grappling in the fight they fold Me, not from mercy, did they spare, Those arms that ne'er shall lose their hold But this empurpled pledge tu bear. Friends meet to part ; love laughs at faith ; Peace to the brave! whose blood is spilt: True foes, once net, are join'd till death ! Wo to the Giaour! for his the guilt." ******* * * * * * * With sabre shive 'd to the hilt. A turban " carved in coarsest stone, Yet dripping witk the blood he spilt ; A pillar with rank weeds ocrgrown, Yet strain'd within the scver'd hand Whereon can now be scarcely read Which quivers roi nd that faithless brand ; The Koran verse that mourns the dead, His turban ~ar be) ind him roil'd, Point out the spot where Hassan fell And cleft ii twau its firmest fold; A victim in that lonely dell. His flowing dbe / falchion torn, There sleeps as true an ' fsmanhe And crimson as those clouds of morn As e'er at Mecca hent the knee; That, streak'd with dusky red, portend As ever scorn'd forbidden Wine, The day shall have a stormy end ; Or prav'd with face towards the shrine. A stain on every bush that bore In orisons resumed anew A fragment of his palampore, 30 At solemn sound of "Alia Hu! M " His breast with wounds unnumber'd riven, Yet died ho by a stranger's hand, His bark to earth, his face to heaven. And stranger in his native land ; Fallen Hassan lies — his unclosed eye Yet died he as in arms he stood, Yet lowering on his enemy, And unavenged, al least in blood. As if the hour that scal'd his fate But him the maids of paradise Surviving left his quenchless hate; Impatient to their halls invite, And o'er him bends that foe with brow- And the dark heaven of Houri's eyes As dark as Ins that bled below. — On him shall glance for ever bright; ******* They come — their kerchiefs green they wave, 14 And welcome with a kiss the brave! u Yes, Leila sleeps beneath the wave, Who falls in battle 'gainst a Giaour But his shall be a redder grave ; Is worthiest an immortal bower. Her spirit pointed well the steel ****** Which taught that felon heart to feel. He call'd the Prophet, but bis power But thou, false infidel ! shall writhe Was vain against the vengeful Giaour: Beneath avenging JVIonkirV* scythe; He call'd on Alia — but the word And from its torment *scape alone Arose unheeded or unheard. To wander round lust EhUV M throne; Thou Paynim fool! could Leila's prayer And fire unquench'd, unquenchable, Be pass'd, and thine accorded there? Around, within, thy heart shall dwell; 1 watchVI my tune, T leagued with these, Nor ear can hear nor tongue can tell The traitor in his turn to Beize; The tortures of that inward hell! My wrath is wreak*d, tin- deed is done, But first, on earth as vampire* 7 sent, And now I go — but go alone." Thy corse shall from its tomb be rent: ****** Then ghastly haunt thy native place, ****** And suck the blood of all thy race; There from thy daughter, sister, wife, The browsing camels' hells arc tinkling : At midnight drain the stream of life ; His mother look'd from her lattice high, Yet loathe the banquet which perforce She saw the deWS of ova besprinkling Musi (cod thy livid living corse: The pasture green beneath her eye, Thy victims ere they yet expire She saw the planets faintly twinkling: Shall know the demon fir their sire, °'T is twilight — sure his train is nigh.' 1 As cursing thee, thou cursing them, She could not rest in the garden-bower, Thy flowers are withcr'd on the st»;m. But gazod tlirough the grate of his steepest tower: But one that for thy crime must fall, p Why comes he not ? his steeds aro fleet, The youngest, most beloved of all. THE GIAOUR. 87 Shall bless thee with a father's name — That word shall wrap thy heart in flame ! Yet must thou end thy task, and mark Her cheek's last tin^e, her eye's last spark, And the last glassy glance must view Which freezes o'er its lifeless blue; Then with imhallow'd hand shalt tear The tresses of her yellow hair, Of which in life a lock when shorn Affection's fondest pledge was worn ; But now is borne away by thee, Memorial of thine agony! Wet with thine own best blood shall drip 38 Thy gnashing tooth and haggard lip; Then stalking to thy sullen erave, Go— and with Gotils and Afrits rave ; Till these in horror shrink away From spectre more accursed than they! * How name ye yon lone Caloyer? His features I have scann'd before In mine own land : 'tis many a year, Since, dashing by the lonely shore, I saw him urge as Beet a steed As ever served a horseman's need. But once I saw that face, yet then It was so mark'd with inward pain, I could not pass it by again ; It breathes the same dark spirit now, As death were stamp'd upon his brow." * 'T is twice three years at summer-tide Since first among our freres he came ; And here it soothes him to abide For some dark deed he will not name. But never at our vesper prayer, Nor e'er' before confession chair Kneels he, nor recks he when arise Incense or anthem to the skies, But broods within his cell alone, His faith and race alike unknown. The sea from Paynim land he crost, And here ascended from the coast ; Yet seems he not of Othman race, But only Christian in his face : V d judge him some stray renegade, Repentant of the change he made, Save that he shuns our holy shrine, Nor tastes the sacred bread and wine. Great largess to these walls he brought, And thus our abbot's favour bought ; But were I prior, not a day Should brook such stranger's further stay, Or pent within our penance cell Should doom him there for aye to dwell. Much in his visions mutters he Of maiden whelm'd beneath the sea ; Of sabres clashing, foemen flying, Wrongs avenged, and Moslem dying. On cliff he hath been known to stand, And rave as to some bloody hand Fresh sever'd from its parent limb Invisible to all but him, Which beckons onward to his grave, And lures to leap into the wave." Dark and unearthly is the scowl That glares beneath his dusky cowl : The flash of that dilating eye Reveals too much of times gone by ; Though varying, indistinct its hue, Oft will his glance the gazer rue For in it lurks that nameless spell Which speaks, itself unspeakable, A spirit yet unquell'd and high, That claims and keeps ascendancy ; And like the bird whose pinions quake, But cannot fly the gazing snake, Will others quail beneath his look, Nor 'scape the glance they scarce can brook. From him the half-affrighted friar When met alone would fain retire, As if that eye and bitter smile Transferr'd to others fear and guile : Not oft to smile descendcth he, And when he doth 't is sad to see That he but mocks at misery. How that pale lip will curl and quiver Then fix once more as if for ever ; As if his sorrow or disdain Forbade him e'er to smile again. Well were it so — such ghastly mirth From joyaunce ne'er derived its birth But sadder still it were to trace What once were feelings in that face. Tune hath not yet the features hVd, But brighter traits with evil rais'd ; And there are hues not always faded, Winch speak a mind not all degraded Even by the crimes through which it waded The common crowd but see the gloom Of wayward deeds, and fitting doom ; The close observer can espy A noble soul, and lineage high : Alas ! though both bestowM in vain, Which grief could change, and guilt could stam It was no vulgar tenement To which such lofty gifts were lent, And still with little less than dread On such the sight is riveted. The roofless cot, decay'd and rent, Will scarce delay the passer by ; The tower by war or tempest bent, While yet may frown one battlement, Demands and daunts the stranger's eye , Each ivied arch, and pillar lone, Pleads haughtily for glories gone ! a His floating robe around him folding, Slow sweeps he through the column'd aisle i With dread beheld, with gloom beholding The rites that sanctify the pile. But when the anthem snakes the choir, And kneel the monks, bis steps retire By yonder lone and wavering torch His aspect glares within the porch ; There will he pause till all is done— And hear the prayer, but utter none. See — by the half- illumined wall His hood fly back, his dark hair fall, That pale brow wildly wreathing round, As if the Gorgon there had bound The sablest of the serpent-braid That o'er her fearful forehead strayed: For he declines the convent oath, And leaves those locks unhallow'd growth, But wears our garb in all beside ; And, not from piety but pride, Gives wealth to walls that never heard Of his one holy vow nor word. Lo ! — mark ye, as the harmony Peals louder praises to the sky, That livid cheek, that stony air Of mix'd defiance and despair ! Saint Francis, keep him from the shrine ! Else may we dread the wrath divine Made manifest by awful sign. 88 THE GIAOUR. If ever evil angel bore. The form of mortal, such ho wore : By all my hope of sins forgiven, Such looks are not of earth nor heaven !" To love the softest hearts are prone, But such can ne'er be all his own ; Too timid in his woes to share. Too meek to meet, or brave despair ; And sterner hearts alone may feel The wound that time can never heal The rugged metal ofthe mine Must burn before its surface BODie, But plunged within the furnace-flame, It bends and melts — though still the same ; Then temper'd to thy want, or will, 'T will serve thee to defend or kill ; A breastplate for thine hour of need, Or blade to bid thy foemao bleed ; But if a dagger's form it bear, Let those who shape its edge beware ! Thus passion's fire, and woman's art, Can turn and tame the sterner heart ; From these its form and tone are ta'cn, And what they make it, must remain, But break — before it bend again. If solitude succeed to griefj Release from pain is slight relief; The vacant bosom's wilderness Mighl i hank the pang that made it less. We loathe what none are left to share : Even bliss — 'twere wo alone to bear ; The heart once left, thus desolate Must fly at last for ease — to hate. lit is as if the dead could feel The icy worm around them steal, And shudder, as the reptiles creep To revel o'er their rotting sleep, Without the power to scare away The cold consumers of their clay .' It is as if the desert-bird, 39 Whose beak unlocks her bosom's stream To still her famish'd nestlings 1 scream, Nor mourns a life to them transferred, Should rend her rash devoted breast, And find them flown her empty nest. The keenest pangs the wretched find Are rapture to the dreary void, The leafless desert of the mind, The waste of feelings unemploy'd. Who would be doom'd to gaze upon A sky without a cloud or sun ? Less hideous far the tempest's roar Than ne'er to brave the billows more — Thrown, when the war of winds is o'er, A lonely wreck on fortune's shore, *Mid sullen calm, and silent bay, Unseen to drop by dull decay ; — Better to sink beneath the shock Than moulder piecemeal on tho rock 1 ****** Father ! thy days have pass'd in peace, 'Mid counted beads, and countless pray or ; To bid the sins of others cease, Thyself without a crime or care, Save transient ills that all must bear, Has been thy lot from youth to age ; And thou wilt bless thee from the rage Of passions fierce and uncontroll'd, Such as thy penitents unfold, Whose secret sins and sorrows rest Within thy pure and pitying breast. My days, though few, have pass'd below In much of joy, but more of wo; Yet still iii hours nf love or strife, I' ve 'scaped the weariness of life : Now leagued with friends, now girt by foee I loathed the languor of repose. Now nothing left to love or hate, No more with hope or pride elate, I' d rather be the thing that crawls Most noxious o'er a dungeon's walls, Than pass my dull, unvarying days, Condemn'd to meditate and gaze. Yet, lurks a wish within my breast For rest — but not to feel 't is rest. Soon shall my fate that wish fulfil; And I shall sleep without the dream Of what I was, and would be still, Dark as to thee my deeds may seem: My memory now is but the tomb Of joys long dead; my hope, their doom: Though better to have died with those Than bear a life of lingering woes. My spirits shrunk not to sustain The searching throes of ceaseless pain; Nor sought the self-accorded grave Of ancient fool and modern knave : Yet death I have not feard to meet; And in the field it had been sweet, Had danger woo'd me on to move The slave of glory, not of love. I've braved it — not for honour's boast \ I smile at laurels won or lost; To such let others carve their way, For high renown, or hireling pay: But place again before my eyes Au«ht that I deem a worthy prize, The maid I love, the man I hate ; And I will hunt the steps of fate, To save or slay, as these require, Through rending steel, and rolling fire : Nor need'st thou doubt this speech from one Who would but do — what he hath done. Death is but what the haughty brave, The weak must bear, the wretch must crave Then let life go to him who gave : I have not quail'd to danger's brow When high and happy — need I nov>? K 1 loved her, friar! nay, adored- — But these are words that all can use— I proved it more in deed than word There 's blood upon that dinted sword, A stain its steel can never lose: 'T was shed for her, who died for me, It warm'd the heart of one abhorrM: Nav, start not — no — nor bend thy knee, Nor midst my sins such act record ; Thou wilt absolve me from the deed, For he was hostile to thy creed? Tho very name of Nazarene Was wormwood to his Payriim spleen. Ungrateful fool! since but for brands Well wielded in some hardy hands, And wounds by Galileans given, The surest pass to Turkish heaven, For him his Houris still might wait Impatient at the prophet's gate. I loved her — love will find its way Through paths where wolves would fear to prey, And if it dares enough, H were hard If passion met not some reward — No matter how, or whore, or why I did not vainly seek, nor sigh; THE GIAOUR. Yet sometimes, with remorse, m vain I wish she had not loved again. She died — I dare not tell thee how ; But look — 't is written on my brow ! There read of Cain the curse and crime, In characters unworn by time : Still, ere thou dost condemn me, pause; Not mine the act, though I the cause. Yet did he but what I had done Had she been false to more than one. Faithless to him, he gave the blow \ But true lo me, I laid him low: Howe'er deserved her doom might be, Her treachery was truth to me ; To me she gave her heart, that all Which tyranny can ne'er enthral ; And I, alas ! too late to save ! Yet all I then could give, I gave, 'T was some relief, our foe a ^ravc. His death sits lightly ; but her fate Has made me — what thou well may's! hate. His doom was seal'd — he knew it well, Warn'd by the voice of stern Taheer, Deep in whose darkly boding ear 40 The death-shot peal'd of murder near, As filed the troop to where they fell He died too in the battle broil, A time that heeds nor pain nor toil • One cry to Mahomet Tor aid, One prayer to Alia all he made : He knew and cross'd me in the fray — I gazed upon him where he lay, And watch'd his spirit ebb away : Though picrc'd like pard by hunters' steel, He felt not half that now I feel. I search'd, but vainly search'd, to find The workings of a wounded mind ; Each fealure of that sullen corse Betrayed his rage, but no remorse. Oh, what had vengeance given to trace Despair upon his dying face ! The late repentance of that hour, When penitence hath lost her power To tear one terror from the grave, And will not soothe, and cannot save. ****** ° The cold in clime are cold in blood, Their love can scarce deserve the name ; But mine was like the lava flood That boils in Etna's breast of flame. I cannot prate in puling strain Of ladye-love, and beauty's chain: If changing cheek, and scorching vein, Lips taught to writhe, but not complain, If bursting heart, and maddViing brain, And daring deed, and vengeful steel, And all that I have felt, and feel, Betoken love — that love was mine, And shown by many a bitter sign. 'T is true, I could not whine nor sigh, I knew but to obtain or die. I die — but first 1 have possess'd, And, come what may, I have been blest. Shall I the doom I sought upbraid? No — reft of all, yet undismay'd But for the thought of Leila slain, Gave me the pleasure with the pain. So would I live and love again. I grieve, but not, my holy guide ! For him who dies, but her who died : She sleeps beneath the wandering wave— Ah ! had she but an earthy grave, This breaking heart and throbbing head Should seek and share her narrow bed. M 89 She was a form of life and light, That, seen, became a part of sight; And rose, where'er I turned mine eye, The morning star of memory ! ■ Yes, love indeed is light from heaven ; A spark of that immortal fire "With angels shared, by Alia given, To lift from earth our low desire. Devotion wafts the mind above, But heaven itself descends in love ; A feeling from the Godhead caught, To wean from self each sordid thought ; A ray of him who form'd the whole ; A glory circling round the soul ! I grant my love imperfect, all That mortals by the name miscall ; Then deem it evil, what thou wilt ; But say, oh say, hers was not guilt ! She was my life's unerring light : That quench'd, what beam shall break my night. Oh ! would it shone to lead me still, Although to death or deadliest ill ! Why marvel ye, if they who lose This present joy, tills future hope, No more with sorrow meekly cope; In phrensy then their fate accuse; In madness do those fearful deeds That seem to add but guilt to wo ? Alas 1 tlie breast that inly bleeds Hath nought to dread from outward llow: "Who falls from all he knows of bliss, Cares little into what abyss. Fierce as the gloomy vulture's now To thee, old man, my deeds appear : I read abhorrence on thy brow, And tliis too was I born to bear ! 'T is true, that, like that bird of prey, With havoc have I mark'd my way : But this was taught me by the dove, To die — and know no second love. This lesson yet hath man to leam, Taught by the thing he dares to spum : The bird that sings within the brake, The swan that swims upon the lake, One mate, and one alone, will take. And let the fool still prone to range, And sneer on all who cannot change, Partake his jest with boasting boys ; I envy not his varied joys, But deem such feeble, heartless man, Less than yon solitary swan ; Far, far beneath the shallow maid He left believing and betray'd. Such shame at least was never mine — Leila ! each thought was only tliine ! My good, my guilt, my 'weal, my wo, My hope on high — my all below. Earth holds no other like to thee, Or, if it doth, in vain for me : For worlds I dare not view the dame Resembling thee, yet not the same. The very crimes that mar my youth, This bed of death— attest my truth ! 'Tis all too late — thou wert, thou art The cherish'd madness of my heart! " And she was lost — and yet I breathed, But not the breath of human life ; A serpent round my heart was wreathed, And stung my every thought to strife. Alike all time, abhorr'd all place, Shuddering I shrunk from nature's face, Where every hue that charm'd before The blackness of my bosom wore. 90 THE GIAOUR. The rest thou dost already know, And all my sins, and half my wo. But talk no more of penitent <• ; Thou see'st I soon shall part from hence And if thy holy tale were true, The deed that's done can'st thou undo? Think me not dianklcss — but this grief Looks not to priesthood for relief. 41 My soul's estate in secret guess! But wouldst thou pity more, say less. When thou canst 1ml my Leila live, Then «ill I sue thee to fbrgU •■ ; * Then plead my cause- in that high place "Where purchased masses proffer grace. Go, when the hunter 's hand hath wrung From forest-cave her shrieking young, And calm the lonely lioness: But sooth not — mock not my distress. " In earlier days, and calmer hours. When heart with heart delights to blend, Where bloom my nam-' valley's Wvers I had — ah! have I now? — a friend! To him this pledge I charge thee send, Memorial of a youthful vow; I would remind him of my end : Though souls absorbed like mine allow Brief thought to distant friendship's claim, Yet dear to him my blighted name. 'Tis strange — he prophesied my doom, And I have smiled — I then could smile — ■ When prudence would Ins voice assume, And warn — 1 reck'd net what — the while: But now remembrance whispers o'er Those accents scarcely mark'd before. Say — that his bodings came to pass. And he will start to hear their truth, And wish his words had not been sooth: Tell him, unheeding as I was, Through many a busy bitter scene Of all our golden youth had been, In pain, my faltering tongue had tried To bless his memory ere I died ; But Heaven in wrath would turn away, If guilt should for the guil'less pray. I do not ask him not to blame, Too gentle he to wound my name ; And what have I to do with fame? I do not ask liim not to mourn, Such cold request might sound like scorn And what than friendship's manly tear May better grace a brother's bier ? But bear this ring, his own of old, And tell him — what thou dost behold The withered fiamo, the ruin'd mind, The wrack by passion left behind, A shrivell'd scroll, a scatter'd leal) Sear'd by the autumn blast of grief! u Tell me no more of fancy's gleam, No, father, no, 'twas not a dream; Alas ! the dreamer first must sleep, I only watch'd, and wish'd to weep; But could not, for my burning brow ThrobVd to the very brain as now: I wish'd but for a single tear, As something welcome, new, and dear: I wish'd it then, I wish it still ; Despair b stronger than my will. Waste not tliine orison, despair Is mightier than thy pious prayer : I would not, if I migh f , be blest ; I want no paradise, but rest. 'Twas then, I tell thee, father! then I saw her; yes, she lived again; And shining in her white symar," As through yon pale gray cloud the star Which now 1 gaze on, as on her, # Who Innk'd and looks far lovelier; Dimly I view its trembling spark; To-morrow's night shall be more dark ; And I, 1" (ore its rays appear, That lifeless thing the living fear. I wander, father! f-r my soul Is fleeting towards the final goal. 1 saw her, friar! and I ruse Forgetful of our former woes; And rushing from my couch, I dart, And clasp her to my desperate heart ; I clasp — what is it that I clasp? No breathing form withm my grasp, i! I that beats reply to mine, Vet, Leila! yet the form is thine! And art thou, dearest, changed so much, As meet my eye, yet mock my touch? Ah! were thy beauties e'er so cold, I care not ; so my arms enfold The all they ever wish to hold. Alas! amund a shadow prest, They shrink upon my lonely breast ; Yet still 'tis there! in silence stands, And beckons with beseeching hands! With braided hair, and bright-black eye— I knew 'twas false — she could not die! But he is dead! within the dell I saw him buried where he fell; He comes not, for he cannot break From earth; why then art thou awake'' They told me wild waves roll'd above The face I view, the form I love ; They told me — 'twas a hideous talc! I'd tell it, but my tongue would fail: If true, and from thine ocean-cave Thou com'st to claim a calmer grave, Oh! pass thy dewy fingers o'er This brow that then will burn no more* Or place them on my hopeless heart: But, shape or shade! whateler thou art, In mercy ne'er again depart! Or farther with thee bear my soul, Than winds can waft or waters roll! ****** " Such is my name, and such my tale. Confessor! to thy secret ear I breathe the sorrows I bewail, And thank thee fur the generous tear This glazing eye could never shed. Then lav me with the humblest dead, And, save the cross above my head, Be neither name nor emblem spread, By prying stranger to be read, Or stay the passiiig pilgrim's tread." He pass'd — nor of his name and race Hath left a token or a trace, Save what the father must not say Who shrived liira on his dying day This broken tale was all we knew Of her he loved, or liim he slew.** NOTES TO THE GIAOUR. Notel. Page 81, line 3. That tomb, which, gleaming oerUie cliff". A tomb above the rocks on the promontory, by some supposed the sepulchre of Themistocles. Note2. Page 81, line 22. Sultana of tlte nigluingale. The attachment of the nightingale to the rose is a well-known Persian fable. If I mistake not, the u Bul- bul of a thousand tales" is one of his appellations. Note 3. Page 81, line 40. Till the gay mariner's guitar. The guitar is the constant amusement of the Greek sailor by night: with a steady fair wind, and during a calm, it is accompanied always by the voice, and often by dancing. Note 4. Page 82, line 26. Where cold obstruction's apathy. " AT. but to die *urt tells a long storv, which Mr. South) -V, in the notes on Thalaba, quotes, about these ,L Vnmcolochas," as he calls them. - The Romaic term is "Vardoulacha." I recollect a whole family being terrified by the scream of a child, which they imagined must proceed from suck a visitation. The Greeks never mention the word without horror. I find that " Broucolokas" is an old legitimate Hellenic appella- tion — at [east is so applied Lo Arsenius, who, according to the Greeks, was after his death animated by th© Devil. — The moderns, however, use the word I men- tion. Note 38. Page 87, line 13. Wet with thine own best blood shall drip. The freshness of the face, and the wetness of the lip with blood, are the never-failing signs of a Vampire. The stories told in Hungary and Greece of ti.. feeders are singular, and some of them most vtcredibly attested. Note 39. Page 88, line 40. It is as if the deaerUbird. The pelican is, I believe, the bird so libelled, by the imputation of feeding her chicken? with her blood. Note 40. Page 89, line 24. Deep hi&ohose darkly hod- ng ear. This superstition of a second-hearing (for I never met with downright second-sight in the east) fell once under my own observation. — On mv third journey to Cape Colonna early in 1811, OS we passed through the defue that leads from the hamlet between Keraliar and Colonna, I observed Dervish Tahiri riding rather out of the padi, and leaning his head upon his hand, as if in pain. I rode up and inquired. " We are in peril, 9 he answered. "What peril ? we are not now in Albania, nor in the passes to Bphesus, Messalunghi, or Lepantoj i. are plenty of as, well atoned, snd the (.'donates have not - ourage '■" he thieves. 11 — " True, Afiendi, but nevertheless the shot is ringing in mv ears." — "The ahot!nol b lophaike has been tired this morning." — K ] hear it notwithstanding — Horn — Bom — as r I hear your voire." — "Pshaw." — "As you please, A£ fendi;ifit is written, so will it be." — I left this .puck- eared prcd< stinarian. and rode up to Basili, his Chris- tian compatriot, whose ears, though not at all prophetic. bj no means relished the intelKgeace. We aH arrived C nun, remained some hours, and returned lei- surely, saying a variety of brilliant things, in more an spoiled the building of Babel, upon the mistaken seerj Romaic, Arnaout, Turkish, Italian, and I ' were all exercised, in various conceits, upon the unfortunate Mussulman. While we were contem- plating the beautiful prospect, Dervish was occupied about the columns. I thought he was deranged into an antiquarian, and asked him if he bad become a li Palao- casfro^ man: "No," said he, " but these pillars will be useful in making a stand ;" and added other remarks, which at least evincodhis own belief in his troublesome Caxto I. THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 93 faculty of fore-hearing. On our return to Athens, we heard from Leone (a prisoner set ashore some days after) of the intended attack of the Mainotes, men- tioned, with the cause of its not taking place, in the notes to Childe Harold, Canto 2d. I was at some pains to question the man, and he described the dresses, arms, and marks of the horses of our party so accu- rately, that, with other circumstances, we could not doubt of his having been in" villainous company," and ourselves in a bad neighbourhood. Dervish became a soothsayer for life, and I dare say is now hearing more musketry than ever will be fired, to the great refresh- ment .oi* the Arnaouts of Herat, and his native moun- tains. — I shall mention one trait more of this singular race. In March, 1811, a remarkably stout and active Arnaout came (I believe the 10th on the same errand) to offer himself as an attendant, which was declined: " Well, Affendi, 11 quoth he, " may you live ! — you would hare found me useful. I shall leave the town for the nills to-morrow, in the winter I return, perhaps you will then receive me. 11 — Dervish, who was present, re- marked, as a thing of course, and of no consequence, K in the mean time he will join the Klephtes" (robbers,) which was true to the letter. — If not cut off, they come down in the winter, and pass it unmolested in some town, where they are often as well known as their exploits. Note 41. Page 90, line 8. Looks not to priesthood for reli'f. The monk's sermon is omitted. It seems to have had so little effect upon the patient, that it could have no hopes from the reader. It may be sufficient to say, that it was ofa customary length (as may be perceived from the interruptions and uneasiness of the penitent,) and was delivered in the nasal tone of all orthodox preachers. Note 42. Page 90, line 74.- And shining in her white symar. " Symar" — shroud . Note 43. Page 90, line 135. The circumstance to which the above story relates was not very uncommon in Turkey. A few years ago the wife of Muchtar Pacha complained to his father of his son's supposed infidelity; he asked with whom, and she had the barbarity to give in a list of the twelve handsomest women in Yamna. They were seized, fastened up in sacks, and drowned in the lake the same night! One of the guards who was present informed me, that not one of the victims uttered a cry, or showed a symptom of terror at so sudden a "wrench from all we know, from all we love." The fate of Phrosine, the fairest of this sacrifice, is the subject of many a Romaic and Arnaouttiittv. The story in the text is one told ofa young Venetian many years ago, and now nearly forgotten. I heard it by accident recited by one of the coffee-house story-tellers who abound in the Levant, and sing or recite their narratives. The additions and interpolations by the translator will be easily distin- guished from the rest by the want of Eastern imagery; and I regret that my memory has retained so few frag- ments of the original. For the contents of some of the notes I am indebted partly to D'Herhelot, and partly to that most eastern, and, as Mr. Weber justly entitles it, " sublime tale,* the "Caliph Vathek." I do not know from what source the author of that singular volume may have drawn his materials ; some of his incidents are to be found in the " Bibliotheque Orientale ; but for correctness of cos- tume, beauty of description, and power of imagination, it far surpasses all European imitations; and bears such marks of originality, that those who have visited the East, will find some difficulty in believing it to be more than a translation. As an Eastern tale, even Rasselas must bow before it ; his " Happy Valley" will not bear a comparison with the "Hall of Eblis." THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS, A TURKISH TALE. " Hal we never loved bo kindly, Had we never loved so blindly, Never mel or never niuted, We hitd oe'er been broken-hearted." Burns, TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD HOLLAND, THIS TALE IS INSCRIBED, WITH EVERY SENTIMENT OF REGARD AND RESPECT, BY HIS GRATEFULLY OBLIGFD AND SINCERE FRIEND, BYRON. CANTO I. Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime, Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime? Know ye the land of the cedar and vine, Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine ; Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppress'd with perfume, Wai faint o'er the gardens of Gull ' in her bloom; Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit, And the \oice of the nightingale never is mute ; Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of die sky, In colour though varied, in beauty may vie, And the purple of ocean is deepest in dye; Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine, And all, save the spirit of man, is divine ? 'Tisthe clime of the east; 'tis the land of the sun- Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done ? 8 Oh ! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they teH. 94 THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. Cajcto !. Begirt with many a gallant slave, Apparell'd as becomes the brave, Awaiting each his lord's be] To guide lus steps, or guard his n -f, Old Giaffir sat in his I Deep thought wis in Ins aged eye ; And though the face of Mussulman Not oft betrays to standers by The mind within, well skill'd to hide All but unconquerable pride, His pensive cheek and pondering brow Did more than he was wont avow. •Let the chamber be clear *d. n — The train disappear U- a Now call me the chief of the Haram guard." With Giafiir is none hut his only son, And the Nubian awaiting the sire's award. u Haroom — when all the crowd that wait Arc pass'd beyond the outer gate, (Wo to the head whose eye beheld JVIy child Zuleika's face unveil'd!) Hence, lead my daughter from her tower ; Her fate is fiVd this very hour: Yet not to her repeat my thought 5 By me alone be duty taught !" "Pacha! to hear is to obey." No more must slave to despot say— Then to the tower had taVn his way. But here young Selim silence brake, First lowly rendering reverence meet j And downcast look'd, and gently spake, Still standing at the Pacha's feet : For son of Moslem must expire, Ere dare to sit before his sire.' "Father! fir fear that thou shouldst chide My sister, or her sable guide. Know — for the fault, if fault there be, Was mine, then fall thy frowns on me — So lovelily the morning shone, That — let the old and weary sleep — • I could nit ; and to view alone The fairest scenes of land and deep, With none to listen and reply To thoughts with which my heart boat high Were irksome — for whateVr niy mood, In sooth I love not solitude; I on Zuleika's slumber broke, And, as thou knowest "hat for me Soon turns the Ilaram's grating kev, Before the guardian slaves awoke We to the cypress groves had flown, And made earth, main, and heaven our own! There lingcr'd we. b I,,ng With Mejnomrs tale, or Sadi's song; 1 Till I, who heard the deep tambour l Beat thy Divan's approaching hour, To thee, and to mv duty true, V/arn'd by tin- sound, to greet thee flew: But there Zuleika wanders vet — Nay, father, rage not — nor forget That none can pierce that secret bower But those who watch the women's tower." a Son of a slave !" — the Pacha said— " From unbelieving mother bred, Vain were a father's hope to see Aught that beseems a man in thee. Thou, when thine arm should bend the bow And hurl the dart, and curb the steed Thou, Greek in soul if not in creed, Must pore where babbling waters flow, And watch unfolding roses blow. Would that yon orb, whoso matin glow Thy listless •■yes so much admire, W ould lend thee something of his fire! Thou, who wouldst see this battlement By Christian cannon piecemeal rent; Nay, tamely view old Stamboft wall ! re the dogs of Moscow fall, Nor strike one stroke for life and death bast the curs of Nazareth! Go— let thy less than woman's hand Assume lli«' distaff — not the brand. But, Hamuli! — to my daughter ■■■ And hark — of thine own head take h~ed— li thus Zuleika ofl takes wing— Thou ■ ' j nn bow — it hath a string!" v. No sound from Selim's lip was heard, At teas) that met old GKaffiris car, But every frown and every word Pierced I <■< tier than a < Christian's sword. "Son of a slave! — reproach'd with fear! Those gibes had cosl another dear. Son of a slave ! — and who my sire?" Thus held bis thoughts their dark career; And glances even of more than ire Flash forth, then faintly disappear. Old Giaffir gazed upon bus son And started; for within his eye He read how much his wrath hath done, I [e Baw rebellion there I" "Conn- hither, boy — what, no reply? I mark thee — and I know thee too; But there !»■ deeds thou dar*s1 not do: But it' thy beard \\.u\ manlier length, And it" thj hand had skill and strength, 1 '■! 1 n to Bee thee break a lance, Albeit against my own perchance. \ sneeringly these accents fell, On Selim's eve he fiercely ga ad That eye retum'd him glance for glance, And proudly to his sire's was raised, Till GiathYs quaiPd and shrunk askance — And why— he felt, but durst not tell. "Much I misdoubl this wayward hoy Will one day work me more annoy: I never loved him from his birth, And — but his arm is little worth, And scarcely in the chase could cope With timid fawn or antelope, Far less would venture into Where man onh 11 atul life — T would not trust that look or tour : No— nor the blood so near my own. That blood — he hath not heard — no more^— I'll watch bun closer than bi He is an Arab* to mv sight, Or Christian crouching in the fight — But hark ! — I hear Zuleika's voice ; Like Houris' hymn it meets mine ear: She is tho offspring of my choice ; Oh! more than ev'n her mother dear, With all to hope, and nought to fear — My Peri! ever welcome here! Sweet as the desert-fountain's wave To lips just cool'd in time to save— Such to my longing sight art thou; Nor can they waft to Mecca's shrine More thanks f t bands That won and well can keep their lands. Enough that he who comes to woo Is kinsman of the Bey « >glou : His years need scarce a thought employ; I would not have thee wed a boy. And thou shall have a noble dower: And his and my united power Will laugh to scorn the death-firman, Which others tremble but to scan, And teach the messenger 8 what fate The bearer of such boon may wait. And now thou know'st thy father's will ; All that thy sex hath need to know: 'T was mine to teach obedience -till — The way to love thy lord may show." VIII. In silence bow'd the virgin's head ; And if her eye was hU'd with tears, That stifled feeling; dare not shed, And changed her cheek from pale to red, And red to pale, as through her ears Those winged words like arrows sped, What coidd such be but maiden fears ? So bright the tear In beauty's eye, Love half regrets to kiss it dry ; So sweet the blush of bashfulness, Even pity scarce can wish it less 1 Whate'cr it was the sire forgot; Or if remember'd, mark'd it not ; Thrice clapp"d his hands, and call'd his ste.d, 9 Resign'd his gem-adorn'd Chibouke, ,0 And mounting featly for the mead, With Maugrabee, 11 and Mamaluke, His way amid his Delis took, 1S To witness many an active deed With sabre keen, or blunt jerreed. The Kislar only and his Muurs Watch' J well the Haram's massy doors. His head was leant upon his hand, His eve loolt'd o'er the dark-blue water That swiftly glides and gently swells Between the winding Dardanelles; But yet he saw nor sea nor strand, Nor even his Pacha's turban'd band Mix in the game of mimic slaughter, Careering cleave the folded felt 13 With sabre stroke right sharply dealt ; Nor mark'd the javelin-darting crowd, Not heard their Ollahs' 4 wild and loud — He thought but of old GiafhYs daughter ! No word from Selim's bosom broke ; One sigh Zuleika's thought bespoke: Still gazed he through the lattice grate, Pale, mule, and mournfully sedate. To him Zuh-ika's eye was turn'd, Bui little from his aspect learn'd: Equal her grief] yet not the same; Her heart confess'd a gentler flame: But vet that heart alarm'd or weak, She knew not why, forbade to speak. Yet speak she must — but when essay ? "How strange he thus should turn away! Not thus we e'er before have met ; Not thus shall be our parting yet." Thrice paced she slowly through the room And watch'd his eye — it still was hYd ; She snatch'd the urn wherein was mix'd The Persian Atar-gul's 15 perfume, And sprinkled all its odours o'er The pictured roof 16 and marble door: The drops, that through his glittering vest The playful girl's appeal addrest, Unheeded o'er his bosom flew, As if that breast were marble too. B vVhat, sullen yet? it must not be — Oh ! gentle Selim, this from thee !" She saw in curious order set The fairest flowers of Eastern laud— "He loved them once ; may touch them yet, If offer'd by Zuleika's hand." The childish thought was hardly breath'd Before the rose was pluck'd and wreathed ; The next fbnd moment saw her seat Her fairy form at Selim's feet: " This rose to calm my brother's cares A message from the Bulbul l * bears ; [i gays to-night he will prolong For SeUnVs ear his sweetest song; And though his note is somewhat sad, He'll try for once a strain more glad, With some faint hope his alterM lay May sing these gloomy thoughts away. 96 THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. Canto I. " What! not receive my foolish flower? Nay then I am indeed unblest: On me can thus thy forehead lower? And know'st thou not who loves thee best ? Oh, Setim dear! oh, more than d< U Sav, is it me thou halst or fearoi I ' Come, lay thy head upon my breast, And I will kiss thee into rest, Since words of mine, and son^s must fail, Even from my fabled nightingale. I knew our sire at times was stent] But this from thee had yet to team: Too well I know he loves thee nut; But is Zuleika's love forgot? Ah! deem I right ' the Pacha's plan — This kinsman Bey of Carasinan Perhaps may prove some foe of thine. If so, I swear by Mecca's shrine, If shrines that ne'er approach allow To woman's step admit her vow, Without thy free consent, command, The Sultan should not have my hand! Think'st thou that I could bear to part 'With thee, and learn to halve my heart? Ah ! were 1 severed from thy side, Where were thy friend — and who my guide ? Years have not seen, time shall not see The hour that tears my soul from thee: Even Azracl, ,B from his deadly quiver When (lies that shaft, and fly it must, That parts all else, shall doom for ever Our hearts to undivided dust!" He lived — he breathed — he moved — he felt • He raised the maid from where she knelt; His trance was gone — his keen eye shone With thoughts that long in darkness dwelt; With thoughts that burn — in rays that melt. As the stream late coiiceal'd By the fringe of its willows, When it rushes revcal'd In the light of its billows; As the bolt bursts on high From the black cloud that bound it, Flash'd the soul of that eye Through the long lashes round it. A war-horse at the trumpet's sound, A lion roused by heedless hound, A tyrant waked to sudden strife By graze of ill-directed knife, Starts not to more convulsive life Than he, who heard that TOW, display'd, And all, before repress'd, betray 'd: u Now thou art mine, for ever mine, With life to keep, and scare.- with life resign i Now thou art mine, thai sacred oath, Though sworn by one, hath bound us both. Yes, fondly, wisely hasl thou done; That vow hath saved more heads than one: But blench not thou — thy simplest tress Claims more from me than tenderm -^ ; I would not wrong the slenderest hair That clusters round thy forehead fair, For all the treasures buried far Within the caves of Istakar. 13 This morning clouds upon me lower'd, Reproaches on my head were shower'd, And Giaffir almost called me coward! Now I have motive to be bravo; The son of his neglected slave, Nav, start not, 'twas the term he gave, May show, though little apt to vaunt, A heart his words nor deeds can daunt. His son, indeed ! — yet, thanks to thee, Perchance I am, at least shall be; But let our plighted secret vow Be only known to us as how. I know the wretch who dares demand From Giaffir thy reluctant hand; •More ill-got wealth, a meaner sou] Holds not a Mussolini's* control: Was ho nol bred in Egripo? 81 A viler race let Israel show! But let that pass — to none be told Our oath; ihe rest shall time unfold. To me and mine leave Osman Bey ; 1 t ■ parti ■:in i for pi ril's •l>y : Think not I am what I appear; I've arms, and friends, and vengeance near* XIII. "Think not thou art what thou appearcst ! My Selim, thou art sadly changed: This morn I saw thee gentlest, dearest ; But now thou Vt from thyself estranged. INT v love thou surely know'st before, Ji M' 'Vr was less, nor can be more. I thee, hear thee, near thee stay, And hate the night 1 know nut why, Save that we meet not but by day; With thee to live, with thee to die, I dare not to my hope deny: Thy cheek, thine eyes, thy lips to kiss, Like tiis— ami this — no more than this; For, Alia! sure thy lips are flame: What fever in thy veins is flushing? My own have Dearly caught the same, At teas) 1 feel nay • beek too bluabiDg< To sooth thy aickness) watch thy health, Partake, but never waste thy wealth, Or stand with smiles unmurmuring by, And lighten half thy poverty, Do all but close thy dying eye, For that I could nol live to try ; To these alone my thoughts aspire ; More can I do ? or thou require ? But, Selim, thou must answer why \\\ need so much of mystery ? The cause I cannot dream nor tell, But be it, since thou sayfet 't is well ; Yet what thou mean'st by * arms' and 'friends. Beyond my weaker sense extends. I meant that Giaffir should have heard The very vow I plighted thee; His wrath would not revoke my word. But surely he would leave me free. Can this fond wish seem strange in me, To be what I have ever been? What other hath ZuleUca seen From simple childhood^ earliest hour? What other can she seek to see Than thee, companion of her bower, The partner of her infancy? These cheristfd thoughts with life begun, Say, why must I no more avow? What change is wrought to make me shun The truth; my pride, and thine till now To meet the gaze of stranger's > Our law, our creed, our God denies ; Nor shall one wandering thought of nunc At such, our Prophet's will icpine: No! happier made by that d< He left me all in leaving thee. Deep were my anguish, thus competl'd To wed with one I ne'er beheld: This wherefore should I not reveal ? Why wilt thou urge me to conceal? I know the Pacha's haughty mood To thee hath never boded good: Caxto II. THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 97 And he so often storms at nought, Allah! forbid that e'er he ought! Ar.d why, I know not, but within My heart concealment weighs like sin. If then such secrecy be crime, And such it feels while lurking here ; Oh, Selim ! tell me yet in time, Nor leave me thus to thoughts of fear. Ah ! yonder see the Tchocadar, 22 My father leaves the mimic war; I tremble now to meet his eye — Say, Selim, canst thou tell me why ? " K Zuleika ! to thy tower's retreat Betake thee — Giaffir I can greet: And now with him I fain must prate Of firmans, imposts, levies, state. There 's fearful news from Danube's banks, Our Vizier nobly thins his ranks, For which the Giaour may give him thanks! Our Sultan hath a shorter way Such costly triumph to repay. But, mark mc, when the twilight drum Hath warn'd the troops to food and sleep, Unto thy cell will Selim come : Then softly from the Haram creep Where we may wander by the deep : Our garden-battlements are steep; Nor these will rash intruder climb To list our words, or stint our time ; And if he doth, I want not steel Which some have felt, and more may feel. Then shalt thou learn of Selim more Than thou hast heard or thought before Trust me, Zuleika — fear not me ! Thou know'st I hold a Haram key." " Fear thee, my Selim! ne'er till now Did word like this—" "Delay not thou; I keep the key — and Haroun's guard Have some, and hope of more reward. To-night, Zuleika, thou shalt hear My tale, my purpose, and my fear: I am not, love ! what I appear." CANTO II. The winds are high on Helle's wave, As on that night of stormy water When Love, who sent, forgot to save The young, the beautiful, the brave, The lonely hope of Sestos' daughter. Oh ! when alone along the sky Her turret-torch was blazing high, Though rising gale, and breaking foam, And shrieking sea-birds warn'd him home; And clouds aloft and tides below, With signs and sounds, forbade to go, He could not see, he would not hear Or sound or sign foreboding fear ; His eye but saw that light of love, The only star it hail'd above ; His ear but rang with Hero's song, ■ Ye waves, divide not lovers long!"— That tale is old, but love anew May nerve young hearts to prove as true. The winds are high, and Helle's tide Rolls darkly heaving to the main; And night's descending shadows hide That field with blood bedew 'd in vain, The desert of old Priam's pride ; The tombs, sole relics of his reign, All — save immortal dreams that could beguile The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle . Oh! yet — for there my steps have been; These feet have press'd the sacred shore, These limbs that buoyant wave hath borne — Minstrel ! with thee to muse, to mourn, To trace again those fields of yore, Believing every hillock green Contains no fabled hero's ashes, And that around the undoubted scene Thine own " broad Hellespont " 23 still dashes, Be long my lot ! and cold were he Who tht*re could gaze denying thee ! The night hath closed on Helle's stream, Nor yet hath risen on Ida's hill That moon, which shone on his high theme * No warrior chides her peaceful beam, But conscious shepherds bless it still. Their flocks arc grazing on the mound Of him who felt the Dardan's arrow: That mighty heap of gather'd ground Which Amnions 21 son ran proudly round, By nations raised, by monarchs crown'd, Is now a lone and nameless barrow ! Within — thy dwelling-place how narrow ' Without — can only strangers breathe The name of him that uas beneath : Dust long outlasts the storied stone; But thou — thy very dust is gone ! Late, late to-night will Dian cheer The swain, and chase the boatman's fear , Till then — no beacon on the cliff M ay snap i the course of struggling skiff; The scatter'd lights that skirt the bay All, one by one, have died away ; The only lamp of this lone hour Is glimmering in Zuleikas tower. Yes ! there is light in that lone chamber, And o'er her silken Ottoman Are thrown the fragrant beads of amber, O'er which her fairy fingers ran; 25 Near these, with emerald rays beset, (How could she thus that gem forget?) Her mother's sainted amulet, 26 Whereon engraved the Koorsee text, Could smooth this life, and win the next , And by her Comboloio 27 lies A Koran of illumined dyes ; And many a bright emblazon'd rhyme By Persian scribes redeem'd from time ; And o'er those scrolls, not oft so mute, Reclines her now neglected lute ; And round her lamp of fretted gold Bloom flowers in ums of China's mould; The richest work of Iran's loom, And Sheeraz' tribute of perfume ; All that can eye or sense delight Are gather'd in that gorgeous room: But yet it hath an air of gloom. She, of this Peri cell the sprite, What doth she hence, and on so rude a night? 98 THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. Canto II. Wrapt in the darkest sable vest, Which none save noblest Moslem wear, To guard from winds of heaven the breast As heaven its* 'i to Si tim dear, With cautious steps the thicket i 1 n And starting oft, as thi ig i the glade ■ The gust its hollow m nni igs m ule, Till on the smoother pathway treading More free her timid bosom beat, The maid pursued her silent guide; And though her terror urged retreat; How could she quit her Selira's side? How teach Iter tender lips to chide? They.reach'd at length a grotto, hewn By nature, but enlarged by art, Where oft her lute she wont to tune, And oft her Koran conn'd apart ; And oft in youthful reverie She dream'd what Paradise might be: Where woman's parted sou] shall go Her prophel had disdain'd to show; But Selim's mansion was secure, Nor deem'd she, could he Long endure His bower in oilier worlds of bliss, Without her, most beloved in thi ' Oh! who so dear with him could dwell? What Houri sooth him half so well? Since last she visited the spot Some change seem'd wrought within the grot: It might be only that the ntghl I lisguised tilings seen hv better liglit : That brazen lamp but dimly threw A ray of no celestial hue; But in a nook within the cell Her eye on stranger objects fell. There arms were piled, not such as wield The turban'd Delis in the fi< Id ; But brands of foreign blade and hilt, And one was red —perchance with ^uilt ! Ah! how without can blood be spilt ? A cup too on the board was set That did not seem to In. LI sherbet. What may this mean ? she tum'd to see Her Selim— "Oh! can this be he?" His robe of pride was thrown aside. His brow no higb-crown'd turban bore, But in its stead a shawl of red, Wreathed lightly round, his temples wore: That dagger, on whose hill the gem Were worthv ofa diadem, No longer glitier'd at his waist, Where pistols unadorn'd were braced ; And from his belt a sabre swung And from his shoulder Loosely hung The cloak of white, the thin capote That decks the wandering Candiote: Beneath — his golden-plated \ st Clung like a cuira - to hi :■■ The greaves below his knee that wound With silvery scales were sheathed and bound. But were it not that high command Spake in his eye, ami tone, and hand, All that a careless eve could sco In him was some young Galionge"e. ai x. ■ I said I was not what I seem'd ; And now thou scest my words were true; I have a tale thou hast not dream'd, If sooth — its truth must others rue. My story now 'twere Vain to hide; 1 must not see thee Osmau's bride: But had not thine own lips declared Hon much of that young heart I shared, I could not, m have shown The darker secret of my own, in this I speak nol now of love ; That, lei time, truth, and peril prove: Bui first — Oh! never wed another— Zuleika! I am not thy brother!" * Oh ! not my brother ! — yet unsay— God! am I left alone on earth To mourn — 1 dare not curse — the day That saw my solitary birth? Oh ! thou will love me now no more ! IMy sinking heart foreboded ill; But know me all I was befi .re, Thy sister — friend — Zuleika still. Thou hd'st me hep- perchance to kill; If thou hast cause for vengeance, see! My breast is offend — take thy till! Far better with the dead to be Than live thus nothing now to ihee : Perhaps fir worse, for now I know- Why Giaffir always seem'd thy fie; And I alas! am Giaffir^S child, For whom thou weri contemn'd, reviled. If not thy sister — WOUldst thou save My life, Oh ! bid me be thy slave !" a My slave, Zuleika! — nay, I'm thine: But, gentle love, this transport calm. Thy lot shall yet !>-■ linked with mine; I swear it bj our Prophet's shrine, And be that thought thy sorrow's balm. So may the Koran" verse displayed Upon its steel direct my blade, In danger's hour to guard us both, As I preserve thai awful oath ! The nam.- in which thy heart hath prided Musi change; but, my Zuleika, know, That tie ls widened, not divided, Although thy Sire 's my deadliest foe. My father was to Giaffir all That Selim late was deem'd to thee; That brother wrought a brother's fall But spared, at least, my infancy ; And lull'd me with a vain deceit That yet a like return may meet. He reared me, nol with tender help, Bui tike the nephew ofa Cain; 30 He watc Thai ■ ■ el may break his chain My father's blood in every vein Is boiling; but for thy dear take ■ m vengeance will 1 take ; Though here I must no more remain. Bui lirst, belov'd Zuleika! hear How Giafhr wrought this deed of fear. K How first their strife to rancour grew, If love or envy made them fbesj It mailers little if 1 ki; H ; In fiery spirits, slights, though few And thoughtless, will disturb repose. In war Abdallah's arm was strong, Remcmber'd yet in Bosniac song, And Paswan's" rebel hordes attest How Qttle love they bore such guest: Cakto II. THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 99 His death is all I need relate, The Btern effect of GiuthYs hate; And how my birth disclosed to me, Whate'er beside it makes, hath made me free. " When Paswan, afier years of strife, At last fur power, but first for life, In Widin's walls too proudlv sate, Our Pacha's rallied round the stale ; Nor last nor least in high command Each brother led a separate band ; They ?ave their horsetail M to the wind, And, musterms in Sophia's plain. Their tents were pitch'd, their post assign'd ; To one, alas! assign'u in vain! What need of words? the deadly bowl, By GiafhYs order dryggM and given, With venom subtle as bis soul, Dismiss'd Ahdallah's hence to heaven. Reclined and feverish in the bath. He, when the hunter's sport was up, But little dcem'd a brother's wrath To quench his thirst had such a cup: The bowl a bribed attendant b te : He drank one drought, " nor needed more ! If thou my tale, Zuleika, doubt, Call Haroun — he can tell it out. " The deed once done, and Paswan's feud In part suppress'd, though ne'er subdued, Abdallah's pachalick was gain'd: — Thou know'st not what in our Divan Can wealth procure for worse than man — Abdallah's honours were obtain'd By him a brother's murder stain'd T is true, the purchase nearly drain'd His ill-got treasure, soon replaced. Would'st question whence ? Survey the waste, And ask the squalid peasant how His gams repay his broiling brow! — Why me the stem usurper spared, "Why thus with me his palace shared, I know not. Shame, regret, remorse, And ISitle tear from infant's force; Besides, adoption as a son By him whom Heaven accorded none, Or some unknown cabal, caprice, Preserved me thus ; but not in peace: He cannot curb his haughty mood, Nor I forgive a father's blood. * Within thy father's house are foes; Not all who break his bread are true: To these should I my birth disclose, His days, his very hours were few: They only want a heart to lead, A band to point them to the deed. But Haroun only knows, or knew This tale, whose close is almost nigh : He hi Abdallah's palace grew, And held that post in his Serai Which holds he here — he saw him die: But what could single slavery do? Avenge his lord ? alas ! too late ; Or save his sor. from such a fate? He chose the last, and when elate With foes subdued., or friends betray'd, Proud Giaffir in high triumph sate, He led me helpless to his sate, And not in vain it seems essay'd To save the life for which he prav'd. The knowledge of my birth secured From all and each, but most from me ; Thus GiarhYs safety was ensured. Removed he too from Roumelie To this our Asiatic side, Far from our seats by Danube's tide, With none but Haroun, who retains Such knowledge — and that Nubian feels A tyrant's secrets are but chains, From which the captive gladly steals, And this and more to me reveals: Such still to guilt just Alia sends — • Slaves, tools, accomplices — no friends! XVII. "All this, Zuleika, harshly sounds; But harsher still my tale must be : Howe'er my tongue thy softness Wounds, Yet I must prove all truth to thee. I saw thee start this garb to see, Vet is it one I oft have worn, And Ion? must wear: this Galiongee, To whom thy plighted vow is sworn, Is leader of those pirate hordes, Whose laws and lives are on their swords , To hear whose desolating tale Would make thy waning cheek more pale ; Those ;irms thou see'st my band have brought, The hands that wield are not remote ; This cup too for the rugged knaves Is fill'd — once quaff'd, they ne'er repine* Our Prophet might forgive the slaves ; They 're only infidels in wine. " What could I be? Proscribed at home, And taunted to a wish to roam ; And listless left — for GiafhVs fear Drnied the courser and the spear — Though oft— Oh, Mahomet! how oft! — In full Divan the despot scoff'd, As if mr; weak unwilling hand Refused the bridle or the brand: He ever went to war alone, And pent me here untried, unknown; To Haroun's rare with women left, By hope unblest, of fame bereft, While thou — whose softness long endeared, Though it unmanu'd me, still had cheered — To Brusa's walls for safety sent, Awailed'st there the field's event. Haroun, who saw my spirit pining Beneath inaction's sluggish yoke, His captive, though with dread resigning, My thraldom for a season broke, On promise to return before The day when GiaihYs charge was o'er. T is vain — my tongue cannot impart My almost drunkenness of heart, When tirr every enterprise, That never sees with terror's eyes ; Friendship for each, and faith to all, And vengeance vowVl fur those who fall, Have made them fitting instruments For more than even m. ...mi intents. And some — and I have studied all Distinguished from the vulgar rank, But chieBy to my counsi ■ The wisdom of the cautious Frank — And some to higher thoughts aspire, The last of l-.unS. .-' ■''■ patriots there Anticipated freedom share ; And oft around the cavern fire On visionary schemes .!■ I To snatch the Rayahs 36 from their fate. So let them ease their hearts with prate Of equal rights, which man ne'er knew; 1 have a love for freedom too. Ay! let me like the ocean-patriarch 3 ' roam, Or only know on land the Tartar's home! 3 ' Al v tent on shore, my g dley on the sea, Are more than cities an 1 serais to me: Borne by my steed, or wafted by my sail, Across the desert, or before the galo, Bound where thou wilt, my barb! or glide, my prow ! But be the star that guides the wanderer. Thou! Thou, my Zuleika, share and bless my bark; The dove of peace an 1 pr »mi e to mine ark! Or, since that hope denied in worlds of strife, Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life! The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray! Blest — as the Muezzin's strain from Mecca's wall To pilgrims pure and prostrate at his call: . Soft — as the melody of youthful days, That steals the trembling tear of speechless praise; Dear — as his native song to exile's ears, Shall sound each tone thy long-loved voice endears. For thee in those bright isles is built a bower Blooming as Aden" in its earliest hour. A thousand swords, with Selim's heart and hand, Wait — wave — defend — destroy — at thy command ! Girt by my hand, Zuleika at my side, The spoil of nations shall bedeck my bride. The Harem's languid years of listless ease \n' well resign'd for cares— for joys like these: Not blind to fate, I see, where'er I rove, Unnnmherd perils — but one only love! Yet well my toils shall that fond breast repay, Though fortune frown, or falser friends betray. How dear the dream in darkest hours ol Should all be changed, to find thee faithful still! Be but thy s.nil, like Selim's, linnly shown; To theo be Selimfa tender as thine own ; To sooth each sorrow, share in each delight, Blend every thought, do all — but disunite! Once free, 'tis mine our horde again to guide; Friends to each other, foes to aught beside : Yet there we follow but the bent assignd By fatal nature to man's waning kind: Mark! where his carnage and his conquests cease! Ho makes a solitude, and calls it — peace ' I, like the rest, must use my skill or strength, But ask no land beyond my sabre's length : Power sways but by division — her resource Tlii blest alternative of fraud or force! Ours be the last ; in time deceit may come When cities cage us in a social home: There even thy soul might err — how oft the heart Corruption shakes which peril could not part! And woman, more than man, when death or wo Or even disgrace would lay her lover low, Sunk in the lap of luxury will shami — Away suspicion! not ZuleBtSjfa name! But life is hazard at the best ; and here No, more remains to win, and much to fear. r ! — the doubt, the dread of losing thee, By Osmaxrs power and Giaffirfs stern decree. That dread shall vanish with the favouring gale, Which love ( hnight hath promised to my sail: ■ ! daunts the pair his smile hath blest, Their Bteps Btill roving, hut their hearts at rest. With thee all toils are sweet, each clime hath charms , Earth — sea alike — our world within our arms! Ay — let the loud winds whistle o'er the deck, So that those arms cling closer round my neck: The deepest murmur of this lip shall be No sigh for safety, but a prayer for thee ! The war of elements no fears impart To love, whose deadliest bane is human art ; There lie the only rocks our course can check ; Here moments menace — there arc years of wreck ! But hence ye thoughts that rise in Horror's shape! This hour bestows, or ever bars escape. Few words remain of mine my tale to close: Of thine but one to waft us from our foes; Yea — foes — to me will GiafhVs hate decline ? And is not Osman, who would part us, thine ? tt His head and faith from doubt and death Returned in time my guard to save; Few heard, none told, that o'er the wave From isle to isle 1 roved the while: And since, though parted from my band, Too seldom now I leave the land, No deed they Ve done, nor deed shall do* Ere I have heard and doom'd it too : I firm the plan, decree the spoil, 'T is fit I oftener share the toil. But now too long I 'vc held thine ear ; Time presses, floats mv bark, and here We leave behind but hate and fear. To-morrow Osman with his train Arrives -to-night must break thy chain: And wouldsl thou save that haughty Bey, Perchance hia life who gave thee thine, With me this hour away — away ! But vet, though 'hou art plighted nun*s Wouldsl thou recall thy willing vow, Appall'd bv truths imparted now, Here real I — not to see thee wed: But bo that peril on my head ''' Zuleika, mute and motionless, Stood like that statue of distress, When, her last hope for ever gone, The mother hardeu'd into stone ; All in the maid that eye could see Was but a younger NioW, ! her lip, or even her eye, Essay 'd to speak, or look reply, Beneath the gardens wicket porch Far flashed on high a blazing torch! Another — and another — and another — [ther!" c Oh! fly — no more — yot now my more than bro- Canto II. THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 101 Far, wide, through every thicket spread, The fearful lights are gleaming red; Nor these alone — for each right hand Is ready with a sheathless brand. They part, pursue, return, and wheel With searching flambeau, shining steel ; And last of all, his sabre waving Stern Giaffir in his fury raving: And now almost they touch the cave — Oh! must that grot be Selim's grave Dauntless he stood — "'tis come — soon past- One kiss, Zuleika — 't is my last: But yet my band not far from shore May hear this signal, see the flash; Yet now too few — the attempt were rash No matter — yet one effort more." Forth to the cavern mouth he slept His pistol's echo rang on high, Zuleika started not, nor wept, Despair benumb'd her breast and eye ! — • They hear me not, or if they ply Their oars, 't is but to see m3 die ; That sound hath drawn my foes more nigh. Then forth my father's scimitar, Thou ne'er hast seen less equal war ! Farewell, Zuleika ! — Sweet ! retire : Yet stay within — here linger safe, At thee his rage will only chafe. Stir not — lest even to thee perchance Some erring blade or ball should glance. Fear'st thou for him ? — may I expire If in this strife I seek thy sire ! No — though by him that poison pour'd ; No^though again he call me coward ! But tamely shall I meet their steel ? No — as each crest save his may feel!" One bound he made, and gain'd the sand : Already at his feet hath sunk The foremost of the prying band, A gasping head, a quivering trunk : Another falls — but round him close A swarming circle of his 1" From right to left his path he cleft, And almost met the meeting wave : His boat appears — not five oars' length — His comrades strain with desperate strength— Oh ! are they yet in time to save ? His feet the foremost breakers lave ; His band are plunging in the bav, Their sabres glitter through the sprav ; Wet — wild — unwearied to the strand They struggle — now they touch the land ! They come — 't is but to add to slaughter — H5« heart's best blood is on the water. Escaped from shot, unharm'd by steel, Or scarcely grazed its force to feel, Had Selim won, betray'd, beset, To where the strand and billows met : There as his last step left the land, And the last death-blow dealt his hand — All! wherefore did he turn to look For her his eye but sought in vain? That pause, that fatal gaze he took, Hath doom'd his death, or fix'd his chain. Sad proof, in peril and in pain, How late will lover's hope remain ! His back was to the dashing spray ; Behind, but close, his comrade* lay, When, at the instant, hiss'd the ball — tf So may the foes of Giaffir fall!" "Whose voice is heard? whose carbine rang? "Whose bullet through the night-air sang, Too nearly, deadly aim'd to err? 'T is thine — Abdallah's murderer! The father slowly rued thy hate, The son hath found a quicker fate : Fast from his breast the blood is bubbling, The whiteness of the sea-foam troubling— If aught his lips essay'd to groan, The rushing billows chok'd the tone ! Mom slowly rolls the clouds away ; . Few trophies of the fight are there: Thu shouts that shook the midnight bay Are silent ; but some signs of fray Thai strand of strife may bear, And fragments of each shiver'd brand ; Steps stamp'd ; and dash'd into the sand The print of many a struggling hand May there be mark'd; nor far remote A broken torch, an oarless boat; And tangled on the weeds that heap The beach where shelving to the deep There lies a white capote ! 'T is rent in twain — one dark-red stain The wave yet ripples o'er in vain : But where is he who wore ? Ye ! who would o'er his relics weep, Go, seek them where the surges sweep Their burden round Sigaeum's steep, And cast on Lemnos' shore : The sea-birds shriek above the prev, O'er which their hungry beaks delay, As shaken on his restless pillow, His head heaves with the heaving billow; That hand, whose motion is not life, Yet feebly seems to menace strife, Flung by the tossing tide on high, Then levelfd with the wave — What recks it, though that corse shall lie Within a living grave? The bird that tears that prostrate form Hath only robb'd the meaner worm ; The onlv heart, the only eye Had bled or wept to see him die, Had seen those scatter'd limbs composed, And moum'd above his turban-stone, 40 That heart hath burst — that eye was closed- Yea — closed before his own! XXVII. By Helle's stream there is a voice of wail ! And woman's eye is wet — man's cheek is pale, Zuleika! last of GiafhYs race, Thy destined lord is come too late , He sees not — ne'er shall see thy face ! Can he not hear The loud Wul-wulleh 41 warn his distant ear? Thy handmaids weeping at the gate, The Koran-chaunters of the hymn of fate, The silent slaves with folded arms that wait, Sighs in the hall, and shrieks upon the gale, Tell him thy tale! Thou didst not view thy Selim fall ! That fearful moment when he left the cave Thy heart grew chill: He was thy hope— thy joy — thy love — thine all — And that last thought on him thou couldst not sav« Sufficed to kill ; Burst forth in one wild cry — and all was still. Peace to thy broken heart, and virgin grave ! 102 NOTES TO THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. Ah! happy! but of life to loscvthe worst ! That grief— though dee] — though fatal — was thy first! Thrice happy! ne'er to fuel nor fear the force Of absence, shame, pride, hate, p r;e! And, oh! that pang where more than madness lies! The worm that will nut sleep — and nevi i Thought of the gloom lay a i night, That dreads the darkness, ami yet loathes the li That winds around and tears the q i erii heart! Ah! wherefore not consume it — and depart! "VVo to thee, rash and unrelenting chief ! Vainly thou heap'st the dust upon thj head, Vainly the sackclotli o'er thy limbs doth spread : By that same hand Abdallah — Selim bled. Now let it tear thy beard in idle grief: Thy pride of heart, thy bride for Osrnan's bed, She, whom thy sultan had but seen tu wed, Thy daughter's dead! Hope of thine age, thy twilighVs lonely beam, The star hath set that shone on Helle's stream. What quench'd its ray? — the blood that thou hast shed! Hark! to the hurried question of despair: * Where is my child .'" — an echo answers — " Where ? ,! M Within the place of thousand tombs That shine beneath, while dark above The sad but living cypress glooms, And withers not, though branch and leaf Are stamp 'd with an eternal grief, Like early unrequited love, One spot exists, which ever blooms, Even in that deadly grove — A single rose is shedding there Its lonely lustre, meek and pale : It looks as planted by despair — So white — so faint — the slightest gale Might whirl the leaves on high ; And yet, though storms and blight assail, And hands more rude than wintry sky May wring it from the stem — in vain — To-morrow sees it bloom again! The stalk some spirit gently rears, And waters with celestial tears; For well may maids of Ilelle deem That this can be no earthly flower, Which mocks the tampest's withering hour, And buds unshelferYi by a bower; Nor droops, though spring refuse her thowWi Nor woos the summer beam: To it the livelong night there sings A bird unseen — but not remote: Divisible his airy n u Bui soil as harp that Houri strings long entrancing note ! It were the bulbul; but his throat, Though mournful, pours not such a strain: For they who listen cannot The spot, but linger there and gri to As if they loved in vain ! And yel SO Sweet the tears they shed, 'Tia sorrow so unmix'd whh dread, 1 1.< \ si ar> ■■ mora to hreaU That melancholy spell, And l< ngi r yel would weep and wake, He sings so wild and well! But when die dav-blush bursts from high Expires that magic melody. the have been who could believe [So f ndiy youthful dreams deceive. Yet harsh be they that blame) Thai note so piercing and profound Will shape and syllable its Bound Into Zuleika's name.'' 3 'T is from her cypress' summit heard, That melts in air the liquid word: 'T is from her lowly virgin earth That white rose takes Us tender birth. Th< re late was laid a marble stone ; Eve saw it placed — the morrow gone! 1 1 was a ■ rtal arm thai That deep-nx'd pillar to the shore; For tell, Nexl morn 't was I G II , Lash'd by the tumbling tide, whose wave I Ins bones a holier grave : And there by night, reclined, 't is said, [b seen a ghastly turban'd head : And hence extended by the billow, ■T is named the ' I'lrate-phaiil-iin's pillow ! Where lirst it lay that mourning flower llnth Qourish'd; flourished this hour, Alone and dewy, coldly pure and pale; As weeping beauty's cheek at sorrow's tale 1 NOTES TO THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. Note 1. Page 93 line 3. IVax faint o'er the gardens of Gul in her bloom. '• Gul" the rose. Note 2. Page 93, line 17. Can fie smile on such deeds as his children have done? " Souls mad? of fire, nod cliil.lren of Die •mi, Wall whom nveoge is virtus." Young's Iievcng*. Note 3. Pago 94, line 53. With Mejnoun's tale, or Sadis song. Mejnoun and Leila, the Romeo and Juliet of the East. Sadi, the moral poet of Persia. Note 4. Page 94, line 64. Till I, wlio heard tfie deep tambour. Tambour, Turkish drum, which sounds at sunrise, noon, and twilight. Note 5. Page 94, line 125. Be is an Arab to my tight The Turks abhor the Arabs (who return the compli- ne us .i hundred fold,) oven more than they hate the tians. Note 6. Page 95, line 22. The miml, tfie music breathing from her face. This express!.. ii li.is met With . .I.j-r I lolls . 1 will not refer to "him who hath not music in his soul," but merely reipiesl the reader to recollect, for leli seconds, iii, features of the woman whom he believes to be the most beauiiful ; and if he then does not comprehend ial i> feebly expressed in the above line, I shall lie sorry for us both. For an elo V _. in the ..,,< -i work of the firsl female wntei oi this, perhaps of any age, on the analog) (and the immediate com- parison excited by thai analogy,) between "panning and music/' see vol. iii. cap. 10. De lAllemaohe. NOTES TO THE BRIDE OF ABVDOS. 103 And is not this connexion still str inger with the original than (he copy? Willi the colouring of nature than of art ? After all, this is rather to be felt than desi siil! I think there are some who will understand it, ai least they would have done, had they beheld the coun- tenance whose sneaking harmony suggested the idea ; for this passage is not drawn from imagination, but memory, that mirror which affliction dashes to the earth, and looking down upon the fragments, only he- holds the reflection multiplied . Note 7. Page 95, line 44. But yet the line of Cnrasman. Oarasman Oglou, or Kara Osman Oglou, is the principal landholder in Turkey ; he governs Magnesjn ; those who, by a kind of feudal tenure, possess laud on condition of service, are called Timariots : they serve ng to the extent of territory, and bring a certain number into the field, generally cava! I v. Note 8. Page 95, line 5G, And teach the messenger what fate. When a Pacha is sufficiently strong to resist, the single messenger, who is always the first bearer of the order for his death, is strangled instead, and some- times five or six, one after the other, on the same errand, by command of tiie refractory patient; if, on jiiary, he is weak or loyal, he bows, kisses the Sultan's respectable signature, and is bowstrung with great complacency. In 1810, several of these presents were exhibited in the niche of the Seraglio gate among others, the head of the Pacha of Hagdat, i brave young man, cut oil" by treachery, after a despe- rate resistance. Note 9. Page 95, line 75. Tlirirc chijqi'il his hands, and calFd Ms steed. Clapping of the hands calls the servants. The Turks hate a superfluous expenditure of voice, and they have no bells. Note 10. Page 95, line 76. /.' I his gem-adorrid chibouque. Chibouque, the Turkish pipe, of which the amber mouth-piece and sometimes the hall which contains the leaf, is adorned with precious stones, if in posses- sion of the wealthier orders. Note 11. Page 95, line 78. IVttfi fiftaugrabee and Mamaluke. Maugrabee, Moorish mercenaries. "Note 12. Page 95, line 79. Hia uay amid his Delis took. Deli, bravos who form the forlorn hope of the cavalry, and alwavs begin the action. 13. Page 95, line 91. t the folded felt. A tn felt is used for scimitar practice by the Turks, and few but Mussulman arms can cut through it at a single stroke : sometimes a tough tur- ban is used for the same purpose. The jerreed is a game of blunt javelins, animated and graceful. Note 14. Page 95, line 94. A*br heard that Oi d loud. 41 Ollahs," Alia il Allah, the " Leilies,"' as the Span- ish poets call them, the sound is Ollah ; a i which the Turks, for a silent people, are somewhat profuse, particularly during the jerreed, or in the chase, but mostly in battle. Their animation in the field, and gravity in the chamber, with their pipes ami comboloios, form an >mrast. Note 15. Page 95, line 113. The Persian Atar-gul's perfume. " Atar-gul ," ottar of roses. The Persian is the finest. Note 16. Page 95, line 115. The pictured roof and marble floor. The ceiling and wainscots, or rather walls, of the Mussulman apartments are generally painted, in great houses, with one eternal and highly colour 1 rievi of uiinople, wherein the principal feature is a noble contempt of perspective ; below, arms, scimi- tars, &c. are in general fancifully and not inelegantly disposed. Note 17. Page 95, line 131. A from the Bui
    i know ; but the Mus- sulmans had an idea that those of this form gave a severer wound ; and liked il because it was " piu fi - rone." I did not much admire the reason, but bought it for its peculiarity. Note 30. Page 98, line 118. But like the nephew of a Cain. It is to be observed, that evi j \ allusion to any thing or personage in the Old Testament, such as the Ark, or Cain, is equally the privilege ol Mussulman and Jew: indeed, the fbrmei profess to be nun!) bettei acquainted with the lives, true and fabulous, of the pa- triarchs, than is warranted by OUT own sacred writ, and not content with Adam, they have a biography of Prc- Adamites. Solomon is the monarch of all necromancy, and Moses a prophet inferior only to Chrisl and Ma- hornet. Zuleika is the P< rsian name of Peh|. liar's wife, and her amour with Joseph constitutes one of the finest poems in the language. It is therefore no vio- lation of costume to put the names of Cain, or Noah, into the mouth cf a Moslem. Note 31. Page 98, hue 134. And Paswanls rebel hordes attest. Paswan Ojglou, the rebel of VVidin, who for the last years of his fife, set the whole power of the. Porte at defiance. Note 32. Page 99, line II. They gave their horsctaUi to the wind. Horsetail, the standard of a Pacha. Note 33. Page 90, line 21. He drank one drum more. Giaffir, Pacha of Argyro Castro, or Scutari, 1 am nol Bure which, was actually taken off by the Albanian Alt, in the manner described 1 m the text. Ali Pacha, while I was in the country, married the dau htei ol his vic- tim, some years after the event had taken place, at a hath in Sophia, or Adriam>|>!«-. The poison was mixed in the cup of coffee, which is presented befbrethe sher- bet by (he bath-keeper, after dressing. K ■■ .:* Pa ;« 99, line 136. J sought by turns and saw them all. The Turkish notions of almost all islands arc con- fined to the Archipelago, the sea alluded to. Note 35. Page 100, line 22. Jlif i . / (--ii'ts there. Lambro Canzani, a Greek, famous for his efforts in 1789-90 for the his country; aban- don) d by the Russians, he became a pirate, and the Archipelago was the sc< ne of his enterprises. He is said to be stjll alive al Pi ter burgh. Ho and Riga are the two most celebrau-1 of the Greek revolutionists.* Note 36. Pa ■ II ". line 26. 2b snatch t fa R om their fate. "Rayahs" all who pay the capitation tax, called the " Haraich." Note :J7. Page 100, line 30. j4>/ ! Ui i. i trchroam. Tin- tir.--t of voyages is om of the few with which (ho Mussulmans profess much acquaintance. Note 38. Page 100, line 31. Or on!'; ■ ' ' 'a home. The wanderin. Irabs, Tarlnrs, and Turko- mans, will be found wi nok of Eastern travels. Thai ii possesses a charm peculiar to itself cannot be denied. A young French rem -_';ido con- ed to Chat< thai he nevei I Sloping in the desert, without a sensation ap- proaching to rapture, which was indescribable. Note 39. Page 100, line 51. Bloom ins: as Aden in its earliest hour. " Jannat al Aden," the perpetual abode, the Mussul- man Paradise. Note -10. Page 101, line 116. And mourn'*! above H 5 ( urban-stone. A turban is carved in stone above the graves of men only. Note -11. Pat;e 101, line 126. The loud Wut-umJkh warn his distant ear. The death-song of the Turkish women. The "silent 1 are the men whose notions of decorum forbid complaint in pti Note -12. Page 102, line 23. ■ Where is my child '" — an echo answers — tt JVhere? n "I came to the place of my birth and cried, 'the In. ode of my youth, where are they?' and an Echo answered, ' Where air they?''" Prom an Arabic I\fS. The above quotation (from which the idea in the text is taken) must !><■ already familiar to every reader — it is given in tin- Brst annotation, page 67, of "the Pleasures of Mi-rimr-v :'' n | m so well known as to render a reference almost superfluous; but to whose pages all will be delighted to recur. Note 43. Page 102, line 72. fnto Zidi ,h<:'s name. " And airy tongue* ilinl lyliable mrn'i nnnif,' MlI.TOlT. For a belief that the souls of the dead inhabit the fi >rm of birds, we need nol travel to the east. Lord Lyttleton's ghosl story, the belief of the Dutchess of Kendal thai George 1. flew into bar window in the shape of a raven, (see Orionl's R s,) and many other instance . bring this superstition nearer home. The most singular was the whim of a WVt- cester lady, who, believing her daughter to exist in the shape of a singing bird, literally furnished her pew in the Cathedral with cages-full of the kind ; and as she was rich, and a benefactress in beautifying the church no objection was made to her harmless folly. For this anecdote see Orford's Letters. THE CORSAIR, A TALE. - I suol nencieri in lui liormir unit |*>nno." TASSOj Canto decimo, Gerusalenunc LkbtreUa. THOMAS MOORE, ESQ. MV DE&R MOORE, I dedicate to you the last production with which 1 shall trespass on public patience, and your indulgence, for some years ; and I own that I feel anxious to avail myself of this latest and only opportunity of adorning my pages with a name, consecrated by unshaken public principle, and the most undoubted and various talents While Ireland ranks you among the firmest of her pa- triots ; while you stand alone the first of her bards in her estimation, and Britain repeats and ratifies the d o permit one, whose only regret, since our first ai ance, has been the years he had lost before it commence I, to add the humble but sincere suffrage of friendship, to the voice of more than one nation. It will atleasl provi to you, that I have neither forgotten the gratificatio derived from your society, nor abandoned the prospeci of its renewal.'whenever your leisure or inclination allows you to atone to your friends for too lung an absence. I is said among those friends, I trust truly, that you are engaged in the composition of a poem whose sc< ne » ill be"laid in the East ; none can do those scenes so mi justice. The wrongs of your own country, the magnifi- cent and fiery spirit of her sons, the beauty and I her daughters, may there be found : and Collins, when he denominated his Oriental his Irish Eclogues, was, not aware how true, at least, was a part of his parallel. Your imagination will create a warmer sun. arid less clouded sky ; but wildness, tenderness and originality ■ of your national claim of oriental descent, to which you have already thus far proved your title more clearly than the most zealous of your country's antiquarians. May I add a few words on a subject on which all men are supposed to be fluent, and none agreeable ? — Self. I have written much, and published more than enough to demand a longer silence than I now meditate ; BUI for some years to come it is my intention to tempt no further the award of "gods, men, nor columns." In the present composition I have attempted not the Bl difficult, but, perhaps, the besi adapted measure to our lanfuase, the good old and now neglected heroic couplet. The stanza of Spencer is perhaps too slow and dignified for narrative; though, I confess, it is the measure most after my own heart : Scott alone, of the present genera- tion, has hitherto completely triumphed over the fata) facility of the octo-syllabic verse ; and this is not the least victory of Ins fertile and mighty genius : in blank verse, Milton, Thomson, and our dramatists, are the beacons that shine along the deep, but warn us from the rough and barren rock on which they are kindled. The heroic couplet is not the most popular measure cerlainlv ; but us I did not deviate into the other from a wish to flatter what is called public opinion, I shall quit it without further apology, and lake my chance once more with that versification, in which I have hitherto published nothing but compositions whose former circulation is part of my present, and will be of my future regret. With regara to my story, and stories in general, T should have been glad to have rendered my personages more perfect and amiable, if possible, inasmuch as 1 have been sometimes criticised, and considered no less responsible for their deeds and q-ialities than if all had been personal. Be it so — if I have deviated into the gloomy vanity of "drawing from self" the pictures arc probably like, since they are unfavourable ; and if not, those who know me are undeceived, and those who do not, I have little interest in undeceiving. I have no particular desire that any but my acquaintance should think the author better than the beings of his imagining ; but I cannot help a little surprise, and perhaps amuse- ment, at some odd critical exceptions in the present instance, when I see several bards, (far more deserving, I allow,) in very reputable plight, and quite exempted from all participation in the faults of those heroes, who, nevertheless, might be found with little more morality than " The Giaour," and perhaps — but no — I must admit Childe Harold to be a very repulsive personage ; and as to his identity, those who like it must give him whatever " alias" they please. If, however, it were worth while to remove the im- pression, it might be of some service to me, that the man who is alike the delight of his readers and his friends, the poet of all circles, and the idol of his own, permits me here and elsewhere to subscribe myself, most truly, and affectionately, his obedient servant, BYRON January 2, 1814. CANTO I. «■ nemn rn«ggiordoloi»i Che ru ■ Mice " O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, Our droughts as boundless, and uur souls as free, Fur as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, Survey our empire, and behold our home ! These are our realms, no limits to their sway — Our flag the scepire all who meet obey. Ours the wild life in tumult still to range From toil to rest, and joy in every change. 106 THE CORSAIR. Cast to I. Oh, who can tell? not thou, luxurious slave ! Whose soul would sicken o'er the heaving wave; Not thou, vain lord of wantonness and ease ! Whom slumber soothes not — pleasure cannot please — Oh, who can tell, save he whoso h*-art hath tried) And danced in triumph o'er the waters wile, The exulting sense — the pulse's maddening plav, That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way? That for itself can woo the approaching fight, And turn what some deem danger to delight ; That seeks what cravens shun with more than zeal, And where the feebler faint — can only feel Feel — to the rising bosom's inmost core, Its hope await en and its spirits soar? No dread of death — if with us die our foes — Save that it seems even duller than repose: Come when it will — we snatch the life of life — When lost — what recks it — by disease or strife ? Let him who crawls enamour'd of decay Cling to his couch, and sicken years away ; Heave his thick breath, and shake his palsied head ; Ours — the fresh turf, and not the feverish bed. While gasp by gasp he falters forth his soul, Ours with one pang — one bound — escapes control. His corse may boast its urn and narrow cave, And they who loathed his life may gild his grave: Ours are the tears, though few, sincerely shed, When ocean shrouds and sepulchres our dead. For us, even banquets fond regret supply In the red cup that crowns our memory ; And the brief epitaph in danger's day, When those who win at length divide the prey, And cry, remembrance saddening o'er each brow, How had the brave who fell exulted now!" Such were the notes that from the pirate's isle Around the kindling watch-fire rang the while; Such were the sounds that thrill'd the rocks along, And unto ears as rugged scetnVI a sung! In scattered groups upon the golden Bttltd, They game — carouse — converse — or whet the brand ; Select the arms — to each his blade assign, And careless eye the blood that dims its shine; Repair the boat, replace the helm or oar, While others strangling muse along the shore ; For the wild bird the busy springes set, Or spread beneath the sun the dripping net ; Gaze where some distant sail a speck supplies, With all the thirsting eye of enterprise ; Tell o'er the tales of many a night of toil, And man-el where they next shall seize a spoil : No matter where — their chief; allotment this; Theirs, to believe no prey nor plan amiss. But who that Chief ? His name on every shore Is famed and fear'd — they ask ami know no more. With these he mingles not but to command; Few are his words, but keen his eye and hand. Ne'er season! he with mirth their jovial DOMS, But they forgive his silence foi success. Ne'er for his lip the purpling cup they fill, That goblet passes him untested still — And for his fare— the rudest u r his crew Would that, in turn, have paas'd untasted too; Earth's coarsest bread, die garden's homeliest roots, And scarce the summer luxury of fruits, His short repast in humbleness supply With all a hermit's board would scarce deny. But while he shuns the grosser joys of sense, His mind seems nourish'd bv that abstinence. " Steer »o that shore !"— they sail. " Do this !"— 't is done ; ■ Now form and follow me !" — the spoil is won. Th'is prompt his accents and his actions still, And all obey and few inquire his will ; To such, brief answer and contemptuous eye Convey reproof, nor further deign reply. in. " A sail ! — a sail !" — a promised prize to hope ! Her nation — flog — how speaks the telescope? No prize, alas! — but yet a welcome sail: The blood-red signal glitters in the gale. Yea — she is ours — a home-returning bark — ■ Blow fair, thou breeze ! — she anchors ere the dark. Already doubled is the cape — our bay Receives that prow which proudly spurns the spray. How gloriously her gallant course she goes! Her white wings (tying — never from her foes — She walks the waters like a thing of life, AnA seems to dare the elements to strife. Who would not brave the battle-fire — the wreck — To move the monarch of her peopled deck ? IV. Hoarse o'er her side the rustling cable rings; The sails are furl'd ; and anchoring round she swings And jratherinj; loiterers on the land discern Her boat descending from the latticed stern. 'T is mann'd — the oars keep concert to the strand, Till grates her keel upon the shallow sand. Hail to the welcome shout! — the friendly speech! When hand grasps hand uniting on the beach; The smile, the question, and the quick reply, And the heart's promise of festivity ! v. The tidmgB spread, and gathering grows the crowd: The hum of voices, and the laughter loud, And woman's gentler anxious tone is heard — Friends 1 — husbands' — lovers' names in each dear word "Oh! are they safe 7 we ask not of success — But shall we see them ? will their accents bless? From where the battle roars — the billows chafe— They doubtless. boldly did — but who are safe? Hero let them haste to gladden and surprise, And kiss the doubt from these delighted cyos '*" VI. "Where is our chief? for him we bear report — And doubt that joy — which hails our coming — short, Yet thus sincere — 't is cheering, though so brief; But, Juan ! instant guide us to our chief: Our greeting paid, we '11 feast on our return, And all shall hear what each may wish to learn " Ascending slowly by the rock-hewn way, To where his watch-tower beetles o'er the bay, By bushy brake, and wild Howers blossoming, And freshness breathing from each silver spring, Whose scattered streams from granite basins burst, Leap into life, and sparkling woo your thin) ; From crag to cliff they mount — Near yonder cave, What lonely straggler looks along the wave? In pensive posture leaning on the brand, Not oft. a resting-etaff to lba4 red hand? " 'T is he — 't is Conrad — here — as wont — alone ; On — Juan! — on — and make our purpose known. The bark he views — and tell him we would greet His ear with tidings lie must quickly meet: We dare not yet approach — thou know'st his mood, When strange or uninvited steps intrude." VII. Him Juan sought, and told of their intent — He spake not — but a sign express'd assent. These Juan calls — they come — to their salute He bends him slightly, but his lips are mute. These letters, Chief, are from the Greek — the spy Who still proclaims our spoil or peril nigh: Whate'er his tidings we can well report, Much that" — " Peace, peace F" — he cuts their prating short. Canto I. THE CORSAIR. 107 Wondering they turn, abash'd, while each to each Conjecture whispers in his muttering speech : They watch his glance with many a stealing look, To gather how that eye the tidings took ; But, this as if he gucss'd, with head aside, Perchance from some emotion, doubt, or pride, He read the scroll — "My tablets, Juan, hark — Where is Gonsalvo ?" " In the anchor d bark." " There let him stay — to him this order bear — Back to your duty — for my course prepare : Myself this enterprise to-night will share." K To-night, Lord Conrad?" "Ay ! at set of sun : The breeze will freshen when the day is done. My corslet — cloak — one hour — and we arc gone. Sling on thy bugle —see that free from rust My carbine-lock springs worthy of my trust ; Be the edge sharpen'd of my boarding brand, And give its guard more room to fit my hand. This let the Armourer with speed dispose ; Last lime, it more fatigued my arm than foes : Mark that the signal-gun be duly fired, To tell us when the hour of stay 's expired." VIII. They make obeisance, and retire in haste, Too soon to seek again the watery waste : Yet they repine not — so that Conrad guides, And who dare question aught that he decides ? That man of loneliness and mystery, Scarce seen to smile, and seldom heard to sigh ; Whose name appals the fiercest of his crew, And tints each swarthy cheek with sallower huej Still sways their souls with that commanding art That dazzles, leads, yet chills the vulgar heart. What is that spell, that thus his lawless train Confess and envy, yet oppose in vain? What should it be, that thus their fale can bind? The power of Thought — the magic of the Mind '. Link'd with success, assumed and kept with skill, That moulds another's weakness to its will; Wields with their hands, but, still to these unknown, Makes even their mightiest deeds appear his own. Such hath it been — shall be — beneath the sun The many still must labour for the one ! 'T is Nature's doom — but let the wretch who toils, Accuse not, hate not him who wears the spoils. Oh ! if he knew the weight of splendid chains, How light the balance of his humbler pains ! IX. Unlike the heroes of each ancient race, Demons in act, but Gods at least in face, In Conrad's form seems little to admire, Though his dark eyebrow shades a glance of fire: Robust but not Herculean — to the sight No giant frame sets forth his common height ; Yet, in the whole, who paused to look again, Saw more than marks the crowd of vulgar men ; They gaze and marvel how — and still confess That thus it is, but why they cannot guess. Sun-burnt his cheek, his forehead high and pale The sable curls in wild profusion veil; And oft perforce his rising Up reveals The haughtier thought it curbs, but scarce conceals. Though smooth his voice, and calm his general mien. Still seems there something he would not have seen : His features' deepening lines and varying hue At times attracted, yet perplex'ct the view, As if within that murkiness of mind Work'd feelings fearful, and yet undefined ; Such might it be — that none could truly tell — Too close inquiry his stern glance would quell. There breathe but few whose aspect might defy The fuli encounter of his searching eye ; He had the skill, when Cunning's gaze would seek To probe his heart and watch his changing cheek, At once the observer's purpose to espy, And on himself roll back his scrutiny, Lest he to Conrad rather should betray Some secret thought, than drag that chief's to day. There was a laughing Devil in his sneer, That raised emotions both of rage and fear; And where his frown of hatred darkly fell, Hope withering fled — and Mercy sigh'd farewell \ x. Slight are the outward signs of evil thought, Within — within — 'twas there the spirit wrought! Love shows all changes — Hate, Ambition, Guile, Betray no further than the bitter smile ; The lip's least curl, the lightest paleness thrown Along the govern 'd aspect, speak alone Of deeper passions; and to judge their mien, He, who would see, must be himself unseen. Then — with the hurried tread, the upward eye, The clenched hand, the pause of agony, That listens, starting, lest the step too near Approach intrusive on that mood of fear: Then — with each feature working from the heart, With feelings loosed to strengthen — not depart. That rise — convulse — contend — that freeze, or glow