"MY DEAR BYRON,--You have requested me t_The Works of Lord Byron: Letters and Journals. Vol. 2

Athens about the affair of that girl who was so near being put an end

to while you were there; you have asked me to remember every

circumstance, in the remotest degree relating to it, which I heard. In

compliance with your wishes, I write to you all I heard, and I cannot

imagine it to be very far from the fact, as the circumstances happened

only a day or two before I arrived at Athens, and, consequently, was a

matter of common conversation at the time.

"The new governor, unaccustomed to have the same intercourse with the

Christians as his predecessor, had, of course, the barbarous Turkish

ideas with regard to women. In consequence, and in compliance with the

strict letter of the Mohammedan law, he ordered this girl to be sewed

up in a sack, and thrown into the sea--as is, indeed, quite customary

at Constantinople. As you were returning from bathing in the Piræus,

you met the procession going down to execute the sentence of the

Waywode on this unhappy girl. Report continues to say, that on finding

out what the object of their journey was, and who was the miserable

sufferer, you immediately interfered; and on some delay in obeying

your orders, you were obliged to inform the leader of the escort that

force should make him comply; that, on further hesitation, you drew a

pistol, and told him, that if he did not immediately obey your orders,

and come back with you to the Aga's house, you would shoot him dead.

On this the man turned about and went with you to the governor's

house; here you succeeded, partly by personal threats, and partly by

bribery and entreaty, in procuring her pardon, on condition of her

leaving Athens. I was told that you then conveyed her in safety to the

convent, and despatched her off at night to Thebes, where she found a

safe asylum. Such is the story I heard, as nearly as I can recollect

it at present. Should you wish to ask me any further questions about

it, I shall be very ready and willing to answer them.

"I remain, my dear Byron,

"Yours very sincerely,

"Sligo".]

* * * * *

326.--To James Wedderburn Webster.

September 2nd, 1813.

My dear Webster,--You are just the same generous and I fear careless

gentleman of the years of _indifferent_ memory 1806. I--; but I must not

burthen you with my entire household. Joe [1] is, I believe, necessary

for the present as a fixture, to keep possession till every thing is

arranged; and were it otherwise, you don't know what a perplexity he

would prove--honest and faithful, but fearfully superannuated: now

_this_ I ought and do bear, but as he has not been fifty years in your

family, it would be rather hard to convert your mansion into a hospital

for decayed domestics. Rushton is, or may be made useful, and I am less

_compunctious_ on his account.

"Will I be Godfather?" [2]

Yea, verily! I believe it is the only species of parentage I shall ever

encounter, for all my acquaintance, Powerscourt, Jocelyn, yourself,

Delawarr, Stanhope, with a long list of happy _etceteras_, are married;

most of them my juniors too, and I as single and likely to remain so as,

nay more than, if I were seventy.

If it is a _girl_ why not also? Georgina, or even _Byron_ will make a

classical name for a spinster, if Mr. Richardson's _Sir Charles

Grandison_ is any authority in your estimation.

My ship is not settled. My passage in the _Boyne_ was only for _one_

Servant, and would not do, of course. You ask after the expense, a

question no less interesting to the married than the single. Unless

things are much altered, no establishment in the Mediterranean Countries

could amount to the quarter of the expenditure requisite in England for

the same or an inferior household.

I am interrupted, and have only time to offer my best thanks for all

your good wishes and intentions, and to beg you will believe me,

Equally yours ever,

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

[Footnote 1: Joseph Murray]

[Footnote 2: Webster's eldest son was christened "Byron Wedderburn." He

died young, and when his father told Byron of the child's death, the

godfather

"almost chuckled with joy or irony," and said, "Well, I cautioned you,

and told you that my name would almost damn any thing or creature."

(MS. note by Wedderburn Webster.)]

* * * * *

327.--To Thomas Moore.

Sept. 5, 1813.

You need not tie yourself down to a day with Toderini, but send him at

your leisure, having anatomised him into such annotations as you want; I

do not believe that he has ever undergone that process before, which is

the best reason for not sparing him now.

Rogers has returned to town, but not yet recovered of the 'Quarterly'.

What fellows these reviewers are! "these bugs do fear us all." [1]

They made you fight, and me (the milkiest of men) a satirist, and will

end by making Rogers madder than Ajax. I have been reading 'Memory'

again, the other day, and _Hope_ together, and retain all my preference

of the former [2].

His elegance is really wonderful--there is no such thing as a vulgar

line in his book.

What say you to Buonaparte? Remember, I back him against the field,

barring catalepsy and the Elements. Nay, I almost wish him success

against all countries but this,--were it only to choke the 'Morning

Post', and his undutiful father-in-law, with that rebellious bastard of

Scandinavian adoption, Bernadotte. Rogers wants me to go with him on a

crusade to the Lakes, and to besiege you on our way. This last is a

great temptation, but I fear it will not be in my power, unless you

would go on with one of us somewhere--no matter where. It is too late

for Matlock, but we might hit upon some scheme, high life or low,--the

last would be much the best for amusement. I am so sick of the other,

that I quite sigh for a cider-cellar [3], or a cruise in a smuggler's

sloop.

You cannot wish more than I do that the Fates were a little more

accommodating to our parallel lines, which prolong _ad infinitum_

without coming a jot nearer. I almost wish I were married, too--which is

saying much. All my friends, seniors and juniors, are in for it, and ask

me to be godfather,--the only species of parentage which, I believe,

will ever come to my share in a lawful way; and, in an unlawful one, by

the blessing of Lucina, we can never be certain,--though the parish may.

I suppose I shall hear from you to-morrow. If not, this goes as it is;

but I leave room for a P.S., in case any thing requires an answer.

Ever, etc.

No letter--_n'importe_. Rogers thinks the _Quarterly_ will be at _me_

this time; if so, it shall be a war of extermination--no _quarter_. From

the youngest devil down to the oldest woman of that review, all shall

perish by one fatal lampoon. The ties of nature shall be torn asunder,

for I will not even spare my bookseller; nay, if one were to include

readers also, all the better.

[Footnote 1: "Warwick was a bug that feared us all" ('Henry VI'., Part

III. act v. se. 2).]

[Footnote 2: Byron quoted to Lady Blessington "some passages from the

'Pleasures of Hope', which he said was a poem full of beauties... 'The

'Pleasures of Memory' is a very beautiful poem' (said Byron),

'harmonious, finished, and chaste; it contains not a single meretricious

ornament'" ('Conversations', pp. 352, 353).]

[Footnote 3: No. 20, Maiden Lane, Covent Garden, was a tavern called the

'Cider Cellars'. Over the entrance was the motto, 'Honos erit huic

quoque homo', supplied by Porson, who frequented the house. There Lord

Campbell heard him "recite from memory to delighted listeners the whole

of Anstey's 'Pleader's Guide'" ('Lives of the Chief Justices', vol. iii.

p. 271, note). Mr. Wheatley, in 'London Past and Present, sub voce'

"Maiden Lane," says that the

"tavern continued to be frequented by young men, and 'much in vogue

for devilled kidneys, oysters, and Welch rabbits, cigars, "goes" of

brandy, and great supplies of London stout' (also for comic songs),

till it was absorbed in the extensions of the Adelphi Theatre."]

* * * * *

328.--To Thomas Moore.

September 8, 1813.

I am sorry to see Toderini again so soon, for fear your scrupulous

conscience should have prevented you from fully availing yourself of his

spoils. By this coach I send you a copy of that awful pamphlet _The

Giaour_, which has never procured me half so high a compliment as your

modest alarm. You will (if inclined in an evening) perceive that I have

added much in quantity,--a circumstance which may truly diminish your

modesty upon the subject.

You stand certainly in great need of a "lift" with Mackintosh. My dear

Moore, you strangely under-rate yourself. I should conceive it an

affectation in any other; but I think I know you well enough to believe

that you don't know your own value. However, 'tis a fault that generally

mends; and, in your case, it really ought. I have heard him speak of you

as highly as your wife could wish; and enough to give all your friends

the jaundice.

Yesterday I had a letter from _Ali Pacha!_ brought by Dr. Holland, who

is just returned from Albania [1]. It is in Latin, and begins

"Excellentissime _nec non_ Carissime," and ends about a gun he wants

made for him;--it is signed "Ali Vizir." What do you think he has been

about? H. tells me that, last spring, he took a hostile town, where,

forty-two years ago, his mother and sisters were treated as Miss

Cunigunde [2] was by the Bulgarian cavalry. He takes the town, selects

all the survivors of this exploit--children, grandchildren, etc. to the

tune of six hundred, and has them shot before his face. Recollect, he

spared the rest of the city, and confined himself to the Tarquin

pedigree [3],--which is more than I would. So much for "dearest friend."

[Footnote 1: See 'Letters', vol. i. p. 246 [Letter 131], and 'note'

[Footnote 1 of Letter 131]. Dr., afterwards Sir Henry, Holland

(1788-1873) published his 'Travels in the Ionian Islands, Albania,

etc.', in 1815.]

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

"On ne vous a done pas violé? on ne vous a point fendu le ventre,

comme le philosophe Pangloss me l'avait assuré? Si fait, dit la belle

Cunégonde; mais on ne meurt pas toujours de ces deux accidents."]

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

violated Lucretia.]

* * * * *

329.--To Thomas Moore.

Sept. 9, 1813.

I write to you from Mr. Murray's, and I may say, from Murray, who, if

you are not predisposed in favour of any other publisher, would be happy

to treat with you, at a fitting time, for your work. I can safely

recommend him as fair, liberal, and attentive, and certainly, in point

of reputation, he stands among the first of "the trade." I am sure he

would do you justice. I have written to you so much lately, that you

will be glad to see so little now.

Ever, etc., etc.

* * * * *

330.--To James Wedderburn Webster.

September 15th, 1813.

My dear Webster,--I shall not resist your second invitation, and shortly

after the receipt of this you may expect me. You will excuse me from the

races. As a guest I have no "antipathies" and few preferences.... You

won't mind, however, my _not_ dining with you--every day at least. When

we meet, we can talk over our respective plans: mine is very short and

simple; viz. to sail when I can get a passage. If I remained in England

I should live in the Country, and of course in the vicinity of those

whom I knew would be most agreeable.

I did not know that Jack's graven image [1] was at Newstead. If it be,

pray transfer it to Aston. It is my hope to see you so shortly, tomorrow

or next day, that I will not now trouble you with my speculations.

Ever yours very faithfully,

BYRON.

P.S.--I don't know how I came to sign myself with the "i." It is the old

spelling, and I sometimes slip into it. When I say I can't _dine_ with

you, I mean that sometimes I don't dine at all. Of course, when I do, I

conform to all hours and domestic arrangements.

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

the pugilist.]

* * * * *

331.--To the Hon. Augusta Leigh.

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

My dear Augusta,--I joined my friend Scrope about 8, and before eleven

we had swallowed six bottles of his burgundy and Claret, which left him

very unwell and me rather feverish; we were 'tête à tête'. I remained

with him next day and set off last night for London, which I reached at

three in the morning. Tonight I shall leave it again, perhaps for Aston

or Newstead. I have not yet determined, nor does it much matter. As you

perhaps care more on the subject than I do, I will tell you when I know

myself.

When my departure is arranged, and I can get this long-evaded passage,

you will be able to tell me whether I am to expect a visit or not, and I

can come for or meet you as you think best. If you write, address to

Bennet Street.

Yours very truly,

* * * * *

332.--To John Murray.

Sept. 15, 1813.

Dear Sir,--Will you pray enquire after any ship with a convoy _taking

passengers_ and get me one if possible? I mean not in a ship of war, but

anything that may be _paid_ for. I have a friend and 3 servants

--Gibraltar or Minorca--or Zante.

Yours ever,

* * * * *

333.--To James Wedderburn Webster.

Stilton, September 25th, 1813.

My Dear W.,--Thus far can I "report progress," and as a solid token of

my remembrance I send you a 'cheese' of 13 lbs. to enable your digestion

to go through the race week. It will go to night; pray let your

retainers enquire after it. The date of this letter will account for so

homely a present. On my arrival in town I will write more on our

different concerns. In the mean time I wish you and yours all the

gratification on Doncaster you can wish for yourselves. My love to the

faithless Nettle [1] (who I dare say is 'wronging' me during my

absence), and my best Compliments to all in your house who will receive

them.

Ever, dear W., yours truly,

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

* * * * *

334.--To Sir James Mackintosh.

Sept. 27, 1813.

Dear Sir James,--I was to have left London on Friday, but will certainly

remain a day longer (and believe I _would a year_) to have the

honour of meeting you. My best respects to Lady Mackintosh.

Ever your obliged and faithful servant,

BYRON.

* * * * *

335.--To Thomas Moore.

September 27, 1813.

Thomas Moore,--(Thou wilt never be called "_true_ Thomas," [1] like he

of Ercildoune,) why don't you write to me?--as you won't, I must. I was

near you at Aston the other day, and hope I soon shall be again. If so,

you must and shall meet me, and go to Matlock and elsewhere, and take

what, in _flash_ dialect, is poetically termed "a lark," with Rogers and

me for accomplices. Yesterday, at Holland House, I was introduced to

Southey--the best-looking bard I have seen for some time. To have that

poet's head and shoulders, I would almost have written his Sapphics. He

is certainly a prepossessing person to look on, and a man of talent, and

all that, and--_there_ is his eulogy.

----read me _part_ of a letter from you. By the foot of Pharaoh, I

believe there was abuse, for he stopped short, so he did, after a fine

saying about our correspondence, and _looked_--I wish I could revenge

myself by attacking you, or by telling you that I have _had_ to defend

you--an agreeable way which one's friends have of recommending

themselves by saying--"Ay, ay, _I_ gave it Mr. Such-a-one for what he

said about your being a plagiary, and a rake, and so on." But do you

know that you are one of the very few whom I never have the satisfaction

of hearing abused, but the reverse;--and do you suppose I will forgive

_that_?

I have been in the country, and ran away from the Doncaster races. It is

odd,--I was a visitor in the same house [2] which came to my sire as a

residence with Lady Carmarthen (with whom he adulterated before his

majority--by the by, remember _she_ was not my mamma),--and they thrust

me into an old room, with a nauseous picture over the chimney, which I

should suppose my papa regarded with due respect, and which, inheriting

the family taste, I looked upon with great satisfaction. I stayed a week

with the family, and behaved very well--though the lady of the house is

young, and religious, and pretty, and the master is my particular

friend. I felt no wish for any thing but a poodle dog, which they kindly

gave me. Now, for a man of my courses not even to have _coveted_, is a

sign of great amendment. Pray pardon all this nonsense, and don't "snub

me when I'm in spirits." [3]

Ever yours,

BN.

Here's an impromptu for you by a "person of quality," written last week,

on being reproached for low spirits:

When from the heart where Sorrow sits,

Her dusky shadow mounts too high,

And o'er the changing aspect flits,

And clouds the brow, or fills the eye:

Heed not that gloom, which soon shall sink;

My Thoughts their dungeon know too well--

Back to my breast the wanderers shrink,

And bleed within their silent cell.

[Footnote 1: Thomas Learmont, of Ercildoune, called "Thomas the

Rhymer," is to reappear on earth when Shrove Tuesday and Good Friday

change places. He sleeps beneath the Eildon Hills.]

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

Webster.]

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

"I wish you'd let me and my good alone, then--snubbing this way when

I'm in spirits."]

* * * * *

336.--To John Murray.

Sept. 29, 1813.

Dear Sir,--Pray suspend the _proofs_ for I am bitten again and have

quantities for other parts of _The Giaour_.

Yours ever,

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

* * * * *

337.--To James Wedderburn Webster.

September 30th, 1813.

My dear Webster,--Thanks for your letter. I had answered it by

_anticipation_ last night, and this is but a postscript to my reply. My

yesterday's contained some advice, which I now see you don't want, and

hope you never will.

So! Petersham [1] has not joined you. I pity the poor women. No one can

properly repair such a deficiency; but rather than such a chasm should

be left utterly unfathomable, I, even I, the most awkward of attendants

and deplorable of danglers, would have been of your forlorn hope, on

this expedition. Nothing but business, and the notion of my being

utterly superfluous in so numerous a party, would have induced me to

resign so soon my quiet apartments never interrupted but by the sound,

or the more harmonious barking of Nettle, and clashing of billiard

balls.

On Sunday I shall leave town and mean to join you immediately. I have

not yet had my sister's answer to Lady Frances's very kind invitation,

but expect it tomorrow. Pray assure Lady Frances that I never can forget

the obligation conferred upon me in this respect, and I trust that even

Lady Catherine [2] will, in this instance, not question my "stability."

I yesterday wrote you rather a long tirade about La Comptesse, but you

seem in no immediate peril; I will therefore burn it. Yet I don't know

why I should, as you may relapse: it shall e'en go.

I have been passing my time with Rogers and Sir James Mackintosh; and

once at Holland House I met Southey; he is a person of very _epic_

appearance, and has a fine head--as far as the outside goes, and wants

nothing but taste to make the inside equally attractive.

Ever, my dear W., yours,

Biron.

P.S.--I read your letter thus: "the Countess is _miserable_" instead of

which it is "_inexorable_" a very different thing. The best way is to

let her alone; she must be a _diablesse_ by what you told me. You have

probably not _bid_ high enough. _Now_ you are not, perhaps, of my

opinion; but I would not give the tithe of a Birmingham farthing for a

woman who could or would be purchased, nor indeed for any woman _quoad

mere woman_; that is to say, unless I loved her for something more than

her sex. If she _loves_, a little _pique_ is not amiss, nor even if she

don't; the next thing to a woman's _love_ in a man's favour is her

_hatred_,--a seeming paradox but true. Get them once out of

_indifference_ and circumstance, and their passions will do wonders for

a _dasher_ which I suppose you are, though I seldom had the impudence or

patience to follow them up.

[Footnote 1: Lord Petersham was one of the chief dandies of the day.

Gronow in 1814 ('Reminiscences', vol. i. p. 285) found him

"making a particular sort of blacking, which he said would eventually

supersede every other."

His snuff-mixture was famous among tobacconists, and he gave his name to

a fashionable great-coat. In his collection of snuff-boxes, one of the

finest in England, he was supposed to have a box for every day in the

year. Gronow ('ibid'.)

"heard him, on the occasion of a delightful old light-blue Sèvres box

he was using being admired, say, in his lisping way, 'Yes, it is a

nice summer box, but would not do for winter wear.'"

Lord Petersham, who never went out of doors before 6 p.m., was

celebrated for his brown carriages, brown horses, brown harness, and

brown liveries.]

[Footnote 2: Lady Catherine Annesley, sister of Lady F. W. Webster,

afterwards Lady John Somerset.]

* * * * *

338.--To Francis Hodgson.

October 1, 1813.

My Dear H.,--I leave town again for Aston on Sunday, but have messages

for you. Lord Holland desired me repeatedly to bring you; he wants to

know you much, and begged me to say so: you will like him. I had an

invitation for you to dinner there this last Sunday, and Rogers is

perpetually screaming because you don't call, and wanted you also to

dine with him on Wednesday last. Yesterday we had Curran there--who is

beyond all conception! and Mackintosh and the wits are to be seen at H.

H. constantly, so that I think you would like their society. I will be a

judge between you and the attorneo. So B[utler] may mention me to Lucien

if he still adheres to his opinion. Pray let Rogers be one; he has the

best taste extant. Bland's nuptials delight me; if I had the least hand

in bringing them about it will be a subject of selfish satisfaction to

me these three weeks. Desire Drury--if he loves me--to kick Dwyer thrice

for frightening my horses with his flame-coloured whiskers last July.

Let the kicks be hard, etc.

* * * * *

339.--To Thomas Moore.

October 2, 1813.

You have not answered some six letters of mine. This, therefore, is my

penultimate. I will write to you once more, but, after that--I swear by

all the saints--I am silent and supercilious. I have met Curran [1] at

Holland House--he beats every body;--his imagination is beyond human,

and his humour (it is difficult to define what is wit) perfect. Then he

has fifty faces, and twice as many voices, when he mimics--I never met

his equal. Now, were I a woman, and eke a virgin, that is the man I

should make my Scamander [2].

He is quite fascinating. Remember, I have met him but once; and you, who

have known him long, may probably deduct from my panegyric. I almost

fear to meet him again, lest the impression should be lowered. He talked

a great deal about you--a theme never tiresome to me, nor any body else

that I know. What a variety of expression he conjures into that

naturally not very fine countenance of his! He absolutely changes it

entirely. I have done--for I can't describe him, and you know him. On

Sunday I return to Aston, where I shall not be far from you. Perhaps I

shall hear from you in the mean time. Good night.

Saturday morn.--Your letter has cancelled all my anxieties. I did _not

suspect_ you in _earnest_. Modest again! Because I don't do a very

shabby thing, it seems, I "don't fear your competition." If it were

reduced to an alternative of preference, I _should_ dread you, as much

as Satan does Michael. But is there not room enough in our respective

regions? Go on--it will soon be my turn to forgive. To-day I dine with

Mackintosh and Mrs. _Stale_--as John Bull may be pleased to denominate

Corinne--whom I saw last night, at Covent Garden, yawning over the

humour of Falstaff.

The reputation of "gloom," if one's friends are not included in the

_reputants_, is of great service; as it saves one from a legion of

impertinents, in the shape of common-place acquaintance. But thou

know'st I can be a right merry and conceited fellow, and rarely

_larmoyant_. Murray shall reinstate your line forthwith. [3]

I believe the blunder in the motto was mine;--and yet I have, in

general, a memory for you, and am sure it was rightly printed at first.

I do "blush" very often, if I may believe Ladies H. and M.;--but

luckily, at present, no one sees me. Adieu.

[Footnote 1: Rogers ('Table-Talk, etc'., p. 161) regretted "that so

little of Curran's brilliant talk has been preserved." John Philpot

Curran (1750-1817), after accepting the Mastership of the Rolls in

Ireland (1806), spent much of his time in England. He retired from the

Bench, where he never shone, in 1814.

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

"I was much struck with the simplicity of Grattan's manners in private

life. They were odd, but they were natural. Curran used to take him

off, bowing to the very ground, and 'thanking God that he had no

peculiarities of gesture or appearance,' in a way irresistibly

ludicrous. Rogers used to call him a 'Sentimental Harlequin;' but

Rogers backbites everybody, and Curran, who used to quiz his great

friend Godwin to his very face, would hardly respect a fair mark of

mimicry in another. To be sure, Curran _was_ admirable! to hear his

description of the examination of an Irish witness was next to hearing

his own speeches; the latter I never heard, but I have the former."

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

"Curran! Curran's the man who struck me most--such imagination! There

never was anything like it, that ever I saw or heard of. His

_published_ life--his published speeches--give you no idea of the man;

none at all. He was a _Machine_ of imagination, as some one said that

Piron was an 'Epigrammatic Machine.' I did not see a great deal of

Curran,--only in 1813; but I met him at home (for he used to call on

me), and in society, at Mackintosh's, Holland House, etc., etc. And he

was wonderful, even to me, who had seen many remarkable men of the

time."

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

Scott:

"When Mathews first began to imitate Curran in Dublin--in society, I

mean,--Curran sent for him and said, the moment he entered the room,

'Mr. Mathews, you are a first-rate artist, and, since you are to do my

picture, pray allow me to give you a sitting.' Everyone knows how

admirably Mathews succeeded in furnishing at last the portraiture

begun under these circumstances. No one was more aware of the truth

than Curran himself. In his latter and feeble days, he was riding in

Hyde Park one morning, bowed down over the saddle and bitterly

dejected in his air. Mathews happened to observe and saluted him.

Curran stopped his horse for a moment, squeezed Charles by the hand,

and said in that deep whisper which the comedian so exquisitely

mimics, 'Don't speak to me, my dear Mathews; you are the only Curran

now!'"

"Did you know Curran?" asked Byron of Lady Blessington

('Conversations', p. 176); "he was the most wonderful person I ever

saw. In him was combined an imagination the most brilliant and

profound, with a flexibility and wit that would have justified the

observation applied to----, that his heart was in his head."

Moore ('Journal, etc.', vol. i. p. 40) quotes a couplet by Mrs. Battier

upon Curran, which "commemorates in a small compass two of his most

striking peculiarities, namely, his very unprepossessing personal

appearance, and his great success, notwithstanding, in pursuits of

gallantry...:

"'For though his monkey face might fail to woo her,

Yet, ah! his monkey tricks would quite undo her.'"]

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

passage which explains the allusion.

"It is the custom of maidens, on the eve of their marriage, to wash in

the waters of the Scamander, and then to utter this almost sacred

formula,

'Take, O Scamander, my virginity'

([Greek: to èpos toûto hosper hierón ti epilégein, Lhabé mou

Scámandre tàen parthénian)."]

[Footnote 3:

"The motto to 'The Giaour':

One fatal remembrance--one sorrow that throws

Its bleak shade alike o'er our joys and our woes,' etc.

"which is taken from one of the 'Irish Melodies', had been quoted by

him incorrectly in the first editions of the poem". (Moore).]

* * * * *

340.--To John Murray.

Stilton, Oct. 3, 1813.

Dear Sir,--I have just recollected an alteration you may make in the

proof to be sent to Aston.--Among the lines on Hassan's Serai, not far

from the beginning, is this:

Unmeet for Solitude to share.

Now to share implies more than _one_, and Solitude is a single

gentlewoman; it must be thus:

For many a gilded chamber's there,

Which Solitude might well forbear;

and so on.--My address is Aston Hall, Rotherham. Will you adopt this

correction? and pray accept a cheese from me for your trouble. Ever

yours, B.

P.S.--I leave this to your discretion; if any body thinks the old line a

good one or the cheese a bad one, don't accept either. But, in that

case, the word _share_ is repeated soon after in the line:

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

and must be altered to:

To break the Master's bread and salt.

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

the other run thus:

Nor there will weary traveller halt,

To bless the sacred "bread and salt."

_Note_.--To partake of food--to break bread and taste salt with your

host--ensures the safety of the guest; even though an enemy, his person

from that moment becomes sacred.

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

Confessional.

* * * * *

341.--To John Hanson.

Nottingham, Octr. 10th, 1813.

Dear Sir,--I am disposed to advance a loan of £1000 to James Webster

Wedderburne Webster, Esqre., of Aston Hall, York County, and request you

will address to me _there a bond_ and _judgement_ to be signed by the

said as soon as possible. Of Claughton's payments I know nothing

further, and the demands on myself I know also; but W. is a very old

friend of mine, and a man of property, and, as I can command the money,

he shall have it. I do not at all wish to inconvenience you, and I also

know that, when we balance accounts, it will be much in your favour; but

if you could replace the sum at Hoare's from my advance of two thousand

eight hundred in July, it would be a favour; or, still better, if C.

makes further payments, which will render it unnecessary. Don't let the

first part of the last sentence embarrass you at all; the last part

about Claughton I would wish you to attend to. I have written this

day--about his opening the cellar.

Pray send the bond and judgement to Aston as directed.

Ever, dear Sir,

P.S.--Many, many thanks for your kind invitation; but it was too late. I

was in this county before it arrived. My best remembrances to Mrs. H.

and all the family.

* * * * *

342.--To the Hon. Augusta Leigh.

[Sunday], October 10th, 1813.

My dearest Augusta,--I have only time to say that I am not in the least

angry, and that my silence has merely arisen from several circumstances

which I cannot now detail. I trust you are better, and will continue

_best_. Ever, my dearest,

Yours,

* * * * *

343.--To John Murray.

Oct. 12, 1813.

Dear Sir,--You must look 'The Giaour' again over carefully; there are a

few lapses, particularly in the last page,--"I _know_ 'twas false; she

could not die;" it was, and ought to be--"_knew_." Pray observe this and

similar mistakes.

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

I really think the writer in most parts very right. The only mortifying

thing is the accusation of imitation.

_Crabbe's passage_ I never saw; and Scott I no further meant to follow

than in his _lyric_ measure, which is Gray's, Milton's, and any one's

who likes it. 'The Giaour' is certainly a bad character, but not

dangerous: and I think his fate and his feelings will meet with few

proselytes. I shall be very glad to hear from or of you, when you

please; but don't put yourself out of your way on my account.

Yours ever,

[Footnote 1: 'The British Review' (No. ix.) criticized 'The Giaour'

severely (pp. 132-145). "Lord Byron," it says, "has had the bad taste to

imitate Mr. Walter Scott" (p. 135). Further on (p. 139) it charges him

with borrowing a simile from Crabbe's 'Resentment'. The passage to which

the reviewer alludes will be found in lines 11-16 of that poem:

"Those are like wax--apply them to the fire,

Melting, they take th' impressions you desire:

Easy to mould, and fashion as you please,

And again moulded with an equal ease:

Like smelted iron these the forms retain;

But, once impress'd, will never melt again."]

* * * * *

344.--To the Hon. Augusta Leigh.

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

My Dearest Augusta,--I have only time to say that I shall write

tomorrow, and that my present and long silence has been occasioned by a

thousand things (with which _you_ are not concerned). It is not L'y C.

nor O.; but perhaps you may _guess_, and, if you do, do not tell.

You do not know what mischief your being with me might have prevented.

You shall hear from me tomorrow; in the mean time don't be alarmed. I am

in _no immediate_ peril.

Believe me, ever yours,

* * * * *

345.--To John Murray.

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

Dear Sir,--I have looked over--corrected--and added--_all_ of which you

may do too--at least _certainly_ the _two_ first. There is more MS.

_within_. Let me know tomorrow at your leisure _how_ and _when_ we shall

proceed! It looks better than I thought at first. _Look over_ again. I

suspect some omissions on my part and on the printers'.

Yours ever,

Always print "een" "even." I utterly abhor "een"--if it must be

contracted, be it "ev'n."

* * * * *

346.--To William Gifford.

November 12, 1813.

My Dear Sir,--I hope you will consider, when I venture on any request,

that it is the reverse of a certain Dedication, and is addressed, _not_

to "The Editor of the 'Quarterly Review'" but to Mr. Gifford. You will

understand this, and on that point I need trouble you no farther.

You have been good enough to look at a thing of mine in MS.--a Turkish

story, and I should feel gratified if you would do it the same favour in

its probationary state of printing. It was written, I cannot say for

amusement, nor "obliged by hunger and request of friends," [1] but in a

state of mind, from circumstances which occasionally occur to "us

youth," that rendered it necessary for me to apply my mind to something,

any thing but reality; and under this not very brilliant inspiration it

was composed. Being done, and having at least diverted me from myself, I

thought you would not perhaps be offended if Mr. Murray forwarded it to

you. He has done so, and to apologise for his doing so a second time is

the object of my present letter.

I beg you will _not_ send me any answer. I assure you very sincerely I

know your time to be occupied, and it is enough, more than enough, if

you read; you are not to be bored with the fatigue of answers.

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

flames or

"A hundred hawkers' load,

On wings of wind to fly or fall abroad."

It deserves no better than the first, as the work of a week, and

scribbled 'stans pede in uno' [2], (by the by, the only foot I have to

stand on); and I promise never to trouble you again under forty cantos,

and a voyage between each. Believe me ever,

Your obliged and affectionate servant,

BYRON.

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

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

* * * * *

347.--To John Murray.

Nov. 12, 1813.

Two friends of mine (Mr. Rogers and Mr. Sharpe) have advised me not to

risk at present any single publication separately, for various reasons.

As they have not seen the one in question, they can have no bias for or

against the merits (if it has any) or the faults of the present subject

of our conversation. You say all the last of 'The Giaour' [1] are

gone--at least out of your hands. Now, if you think of publishing any

new edition with the last additions which have not yet been before the

reader (I mean distinct from the two-volume publication), we can add

"'The Bride of Abydos'," which will thus steal quietly into the world

[2]: if liked, we can then throw off some copies for the purchasers of

former "Giaours;" and, if not, I can omit it in any future publication.

What think you? I really am no judge of those things; and, with all my

natural partiality for one's own productions, I would rather follow any

one's judgment than my own.

P.S.--Pray let me have the proofs. I sent _all_ to-night. I have some

alterations that I have thought of that I wish to make speedily. I hope

the proof will be on separate pages, and not all huddled together on a

mile-long, ballad-singing sheet, as those of 'The Giaour' sometimes are:

for then I can't read them distinctly.

[Footnote 1: In 'Accepted Addresses; or, Premium Poetarum', pp. 50-52

(1813), 'Address' xvii. is from "Lord B----n to J. M----y, Book-seller."

The address itself runs as follows:

"A Turkish tale I shall unfold,

A sweeter tale was never told;

But then the facts, I must allow,

Are in the east not common now;

Tho' in the 'olden time,' the scene

My Goaour (_sic_) describes had often been.

What is the cause! Perhaps the fair

Are now more cautious than they were;

Perhaps the Christians not so bold,

So enterprising as of old.

No matter what the cause may be,

It is a subject fit for me.

"Take my disjointed fragments then,

The offspring of a willing pen.

And give them to the public, pray,

On or before the month of May.

Yes, my disjointed fragments take,

But do not ask _how much they'll make_.

Perhaps not fifty pages--well,

I in a little space can tell

Th' adventures of an infidel;

Of _quantity_ I never boast,

For _quality_'s, approved of most.

"It is a handsome sum to touch,

Induces authors to write much;

But in this much, alas! my friend,

How little is there to commend.

So, Mr. M----y, I disdain,

To sacrifice my muse for gain.

I wish it to be understood,

The little which I write is good.

"I do not like the quarto size,

Th' octavo, therefore, I advise.

Then do not, Mr. M----y, fail,

To publish this, my Turkish Tale;

For tho' the volume may be thin,

A thousand readers it will win;

And when my pages they explore,

They'll gladly read them o'er and o'er;

And all the ladies, I engage,

With tears will moisten every page."]

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

"Mr. Canning returned the poem to-day with very warm expressions of

delight. I told him your delicacy as to separate publication, of which

he said you should remove every apprehension."]

* * * * *

348.--To John Murray.

Nov. 13, 1813.

Will you forward the letter to Mr. Gifford with the proof? There is an

alteration I may make in Zuleika's speech, in second canto (the only one

of _hers_ in that canto). It is now thus:

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

It must be:

And mourn--I dare not curse--the day,

That saw my solitary birth, etc., etc.

Ever yours, B.

In the last MS. lines sent, instead of "living heart," correct to

"quivering heart." It is in line 9th of the MS. passage. Ever yours

again,

* * * * *

349.--To John Murray.

Alteration of a line in Canto 2nd.

Instead of:

And tints to-morrow with a _fancied_ ray

Print:

And tints to-morrow with _prophetic_ ray.

The evening beam that smiles the clouds away,

And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray;

Or,

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

Or,

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

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

_not worst_.

Ever yours, B.

You can send the request contained in this at the same time with the

_revise, after_ I have seen the _said revise_.

* * * * *

350.--To John Murray.

Nov. 13, 1813.

Certainly. Do you suppose that no one but the Galileans are acquainted

with _Adam_, and _Eve_, and _Cain,_ [1] and _Noah_?--Surely, I might

have had Solomon, and Abraham, and David, and even Moses, or the other.

When you know that _Zuleika_ is the _Persian poetical_ name for

_Potiphar's_ wife, on whom and Joseph there is a long poem in the

Persian, this will not surprise you. If you want authority look at

Jones, D'Herbelot, 'Vathek', or the notes to the 'Arabian Nights'; and,

if you think it necessary, model this into a _note_.

Alter, in the inscription, "the most affectionate respect," to "with

every sentiment of regard and respect,"

[Footnote 1:

"Some doubt had been expressed by Murray as to the propriety of his

putting the name of Cain into the mouth of a Mussulman."

(Moore).]

* * * * *

351.--To John Murray.

Nov. 14, 1813.

I send you a note for the _ignorant_, but I really wonder at finding

_you_ among them. I don't care one lump of Sugar for my _poetry_; but

for my _costume_, and my _correctness_ on those points (of which I think

the _funeral_ was a proof), I will combat lustily.

Yours ever,

* * * * *

352.--To John Murray.

November 15, 1813.

DEAR SIR,--Mr. Hodgson has looked over and _stopped_, or rather

_pointed_, this revise, which must be the one to print from. He has also

made some suggestions, with most of which I have complied, as he has

always, for these ten years, been a very sincere, and by no means (at

times) flattering critic of mine. _He_ likes it (you will think

_flatteringly_, in this instance) better than 'The Giaour', but doubts

(and so do I) its being so popular; but, contrary to some others,

advises a separate publication. On this we can easily decide. I confess

I like the _double_ form better. Hodgson says, it is _better versified_

than any of the others; which is odd, if true, as it has cost me less

time (though more _hours_ at a time) than any attempt I ever made.

Yours ever, B.

P.S.--Do attend to the punctuation: I can't, for I don't know a

comma--at least where to place one.

That Tory of a printer has omitted two lines of the opening, and

_perhaps more_, which were in the MS. Will you, pray, give him a hint of

accuracy? I have reinserted the 2, but they were in the manuscript, I

can swear.

* * * * *

353.--To John Murray.

November 17, 1813.

My Dear Sir,--That you and I may distinctly understand each other on a

subject, which, like "the dreadful reckoning when men smile no more,"

[1] makes conversation not very pleasant, I think it as well to _write_

a few lines on the topic.--Before I left town for Yorkshire, you said

that you were ready and willing to give five hundred guineas for the

to recede--that we would discuss the point at Christmas. The new story

may or may not succeed; the probability, under present circumstances,

seems to be, that it may at least pay its expences--but even that

remains to be proved, and till it is proved one way or the other, we

will say nothing about it. Thus then be it: I will postpone all

arrangement about it, and 'The Giaour' also, till Easter, 1814; and you

shall then, according to your own notions of fairness, make your own

offer for the two. At the same time, I do not rate the last in my own

estimation at half 'The Giaour'; and according to your own notions of

its worth and its success within the time mentioned, be the addition or

deduction to or from whatever sum may be your proposal for the first,

which has already had its success [2].

My account with you since my last payment (which I believe cleared it

off within five pounds) I presume has not _much_ increased--but whatever

it is have the goodness to send it to me--that I may at least meet you

on even terms.

The pictures of Phillips I consider as _mine_, all three; and the one

(not the Arnaut) of the two best is much at _your service_, if you will

accept it as a present, from Yours very truly, BIRON.

P.S.--The expence of engraving from the miniature send me in my account,

as it was destroyed by my desire; and have the goodness to burn that

detestable print from it immediately.

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

"So comes a reckoning when the banquet's o'er,

The dreadful reckoning, and men smile no more."]

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

"I restore the 'Giaour' to your Lordship entirely, and for 'it', the

'Bride of Abydos', and the miscellaneous poems intended to fill up the

volume of the small edition, I beg leave to offer you the sum of One

Thousand Guineas, and I shall be happy if you perceive that my

estimation of your talents in my character of a man of business is not

much under my admiration of them as a man."]

* * * * *

354.--To John Murray.

November 20, 1813.

More work for the _Row_. I am doing my best to beat "_The Giaour_"--_no_

difficult task for any one but the author. Yours truly,

* * * * *

355.--To John Murray.

November 22, 1813.

DEAR SIR,--I have no time to _cross_-investigate, but I believe and hope

all is right. I care less than you will believe about its success, but I

can't survive a single _misprint_; it _choaks_ me to see words misused

by the Printers. Pray look over, in case of some eyesore escaping me.

Ever yours, B.

P.S.--Send the earliest copies to Mr. Frere, Mr. Canning, Mr. Heber, Mr.

Gifford, Lord Holland, Lady Melbourne (Whitehall), Lady C. L. (Brocket),

Mr. Hodgson (Cambridge), Mr. Merivale, Mr. Ward, from the author.

* * * * *

356.--To John Murray.

November 23, 1813.

DEAR SIR,--You wanted some _reflections_, and I send you _per Selim_

(see his speech in Canto 2d, page 46.), eighteen lines in decent

couplets, of a pensive, if not an _ethical_ tendency. One more

revise--poz. the _last_, if decently done--at any rate the

_pen_ultimate. Mr. Canning's approbation (_if_ he did approve) I need

not say makes me proud [1].

As to printing, print as you will and how you will--by itself, if you

like; but let me have a few copies in _sheets_.

Ever yours,

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

"I received the books, and, among them, 'The Bride of Abydos'. It is

very, very beautiful. Lord Byron (when I met him, one day, at dinner

at Mr. Ward's) was so kind as to promise to give me a copy of it. I

mention this, not to save my purchase, but because I should be really

flattered by the present. I can now say that I have read enough of

Mad. de Staël to be highly pleased and instructed by her. The second

volume delights me particularly. I have not yet finished the third,

but am taking it with me on my journey to Liverpool."]

* * * * *

357.--To John Murray.

November 24, 1813.

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

thus:

He makes a Solitude, and calls it Peace.

"_Makes_" is closer to the passage of Tacitus [1], from which the line

is taken, and is, besides, a stronger word than "_leaves_."

Mark where his carnage and his conquests cease--

He makes a Solitude, and calls it--peace.

You will perceive that the sense is now clearer, the "_He_" refers to

"_Man_" in the preceding couplet.

Yours ever,

[Footnote 1:

"Solitudinem faciunt--pacem appellant."

Tacitus, 'Agricola', 30.]

* * * * *

358.--To John Murray.

November 27, 1813.

Dear Sir,--If you look over this carefully by the _last proof_ with my

corrections, it is probably right; this _you_ can _do_ as well or

better;--I have not now time. The copies I mentioned to be sent to

different friends last night, I should wish to be made up with the new

Giaours, if it also is ready. If not, send 'The Giaour' afterwards.

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

This comes of lending the drawings for their dresses; but it is not

worth a _formal contradiction_. Besides, the criticisms on the

_supposition_ will, some of them, be quite amusing and furious. The

_Orientalism_--which I hear is very splendid--of the Melodrame

(whosever it is, and I am sure I don't know) is as good as an

Advertisement for your Eastern Stories, by filling their heads with

glitter. Yours ever, B.

P.S.--You will of course _say_ the truth, that I am _not_ the

Melo-dramatist--if any one charges me in your presence with the

performance.

[Footnote 1: The same charge is made in the 'Satirist' (vol. xiii. p.

508). 'Illusion, or the Trances of Nourjahad', was acted at Drury Lane,

November 25, 1813. It is described by Genest ('The English Stage', vol.

viii. p. 403) as "a Melo-dramatic spectacle in three acts by an

anonymous author." "Nourjahad" was acted by Elliston; "Mandane," his

wife, by Mrs. Horn.]

* * * * *

359.--To John Murray.

November 28, 1813.

Dear Sir,--Send another copy (if not too much of a request) to Lady

Holland of the _Journal_ [1], in my name, when you receive this; it is

for _Earl Grey_--and I will relinquish my own. Also to Mr. Sharpe, Lady

Holland, and Lady Caroline Lamb, copies of _The Bride_, as soon as

convenient. Ever yours, BIRON.

P.S.--Mr. W. and myself still continue our purpose; but I shall not

trouble you on any arrangement on the score of _The Giaour_ and _The

Bride_ till our return,--or, at any rate, before _May_, 1814,--that is,

six months from hence: and before that time you will be able to

ascertain how far your offer may be a losing one: if so, you can deduct

proportionably; and if not, I shall not at any rate allow you to go

higher than your present proposal, which is very handsome, and more than

fair.

I have had--but this must be _entre nous_--a very kind note, on the

subject of _The Bride_, from Sir James Mackintosh, and an invitation to

go there this evening, which it is now too late to accept [2].

[Footnote 1: The Rev. John Eagles (1783-1855), scholar, artist, and

contributor (1831-55) to 'Blackwood's Magazine', edited 'The Journal of

Llewellin Penrose, a Seaman', which Murray published in 1815.]

[Footnote 2:

"Lord Byron is the author of the day; six thousand of his 'Bride of

Abydos' have been sold within a month."

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

* * * * *

360.--To John Murray.

November 29, 1813.

Sunday--Monday morning--three o'clock--in my doublet and

hose,--_swearing_.

Dear Sir,--I send you in time an Errata page, containing an omission of

mine [1], which must be thus added, as it is too late for insertion in

the text. The passage is an imitation altogether from Medea in Ovid, and

is incomplete without these two lines. Pray let this be done, and

directly; it is necessary, will add one page to your book(-_making_),

and can do no harm, and is yet in time for the _public_. Answer me, thou

Oracle, in the affirmative. You can send the loose pages to those who

have copies already, if they like; but certainly to all the _Critical_

copyholders.

Ever yours, BIRON.

P.S.--I have got out of my bed (in which, however, I could not sleep,

whether I had amended this or not), and so good morning. I am trying

whether _De l'Allemagne_ will act as an opiate, but I doubt it.

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

"Then, if my lip once murmurs, it must be

No sigh for Safety, but a prayer for thee."]

* * * * *

361.--To John Murray.

November 29, 1813.

"_You have looked at it!_" to much purpose, to allow so stupid a blunder

to stand; it is _not_ "_courage_" but "_carnage_;" and if you don't want

me to cut my own throat, see it altered.

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

* * * * *

362.--To John Murray.

Nov. 29, 1813, Monday.

Dear Sir,--You will act as you please upon that point; but whether I go

or stay, I shall not say another word on the subject till May--nor then,

unless quite convenient to yourself. I have many things I wish to leave

to your care, principally papers. The _vases_ need not be now sent, as

Mr. W. is gone to Scotland. You are right about the Er[rata] page; place

it at the beginning. Mr. Perry is a little premature in his compliments

[1]: these may do harm by exciting expectation, and I think _we_ ought

to be above it--though I see the next paragraph is on the 'Journal' [2],

which makes me suspect _you_ as the author of both.

Would it not have been as well to have said in 2 cantos in the

advertisement? they will else think of _fragments_, a species of

composition very well for _once_, like _one ruin_ in a _view_; but one

would not build a town of them. 'The Bride', such as it is, is my first

_entire_ composition of any length (except the Satire, and be damned to

it), for 'The Giaour' is but a string of passages, and 'Childe Harold'

is, and I rather think always will be, unconcluded. I return Mr. Hay's

note, with thanks to him and you.

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

The first I did not see, but heard yesterday. The second seems very bad

and Mr. P[erry] has placed it over _your_ puff. I only hope that Mr. W.

does not believe that I had any connection with either. The Regent is

the only person on whom I ever expectorated an epigram, or ever should;

and even if I were disposed that way, I like and value Mr. W. too well

to allow my politics to contract into spleen, or to admire any thing

intended to annoy him or his. You need not take the trouble to answer

this, as I shall see you in the course of the afternoon.

Yours very truly, B.

P.S.--I have said this much about the epigrams, because I live so much

in the _opposite camp_, and, from my post as an Engineer, might be

suspected as the flinger of these hand Grenadoes; but with a worthy foe

I am all for open war, and not this bush-fighting, and have [not] had,

nor will have, any thing to do with it. I do not know the author.

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

following paragraph:

"Lord Byron's muse is extremely fruitful. He has another poem coming

out, entitled 'The Bride of Abydos', which is spoken of in terms of

the highest encomium."]

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

[Footnote 3:

"Ward has no heart, they say; but I deny it;--

He has a heart, and gets his speeches by it."]

* * * * *

363.--To John Murray.

Tuesday evening, Nov. 30, 1813.

Dear Sir,--For the sake of correctness, particularly in an Errata page,

the alteration of the couplet I have just sent (half an hour ago) must

take place, in spite of delay or cancel; let me see the _proof_ early

to-morrow. I found out _murmur_ to be a neuter _verb_, and have been

obliged to alter the line so as to make it a substantive, thus:

The deepest murmur of this life shall be

No sigh for Safety, but a prayer for thee!

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

Yours,

* * * * *

364.--To Thomas Moore.

November 30, 1813.

Since I last wrote to you, much has occurred, good, bad, and

indifferent,--not to make me forget you, but to prevent me from

reminding you of one who, nevertheless, has often thought of you, and to

whom _your_ thoughts, in many a measure, have frequently been a

consolation. We were once very near neighbours this autumn; and a good

and bad neighbourhood it has proved to me. Suffice it to say, that your

French quotation [1] was confoundedly to the purpose,--though very

_unexpectedly_ pertinent, as you may imagine by what I _said_ before,

and my silence since. However, "Richard's himself again," [2] and except

all night and some part of the morning, I don't think very much about

the matter.

All convulsions end with me in rhyme; and to solace my midnights, I have

scribbled another Turkish story [3]--not a Fragment--which you will

receive soon after this. It does not trench upon your kingdom in the

least, and if it did, you would soon reduce me to my proper boundaries.

You will think, and justly, that I run some risk of losing the little I

have gained in fame, by this further experiment on public patience; but

I have really ceased to care on that head. I have written this, and

published it, for the sake of the _employment_,--to wring my thoughts

from reality, and take refuge in "imaginings," however "horrible;" [4]

and, as to success! those who succeed will console me for a

failure--excepting yourself and one or two more, whom luckily I love too

well to wish one leaf of their laurels a tint yellower. This is the work

of a week, and will be the reading of an hour to you, or even less,--and

so, let it go----.

P.S.--Ward and I _talk_ of going to Holland. I want to see how a Dutch

canal looks after the Bosphorus. Pray respond.

[Footnote 1: Moore wrote to Byron in 1813 an undated letter, in which

the following passage occurs:

"I am sorry I must wait till 'we are veterans' before you will open to

me 'the story of your wandering life, wherein you find more hours _due

to repentance_ ... than time hath told you yet.' Is it so with you, or

are you, like me, reprobate enough to look back with complacency on

what you have done? I suppose repentance _must bring up the rear_ with

us all; but at present I should say with old Fontenelle, _Si je

recommençais ma carrière, je ferais tout ce que j'ai fait_."]

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

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

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

[Footnote 4:

"Horrible imaginings."

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

* * * * *

365.--To Francis Hodgson.

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

I have just heard that _Knapp_ is acquainted with what I was but too

happy in being enabled to do for you [1].

Now, my dear Hn., you, or Drury, must have told this, for, upon my own

honour, not even to Scrope, nor to one soul, (Drury knew it before) have

I said one syllable of the matter. So don't be out of humour with me

about it, but you can't be more so than I am. I am, however, glad of one

thing; if you ever conceived it to be in the least an obligation, this

disclosure most fairly and fully releases you from it:

"To John I owe some obligation,

But John unluckily thinks fit

To publish it to all the nation,

So John and I are more than quit."

And so there's an end of the matter.

Ward _wavers_ a little about the Dutch, till matters are more sedative,

and the French more sedentary.

The 'Bride' will blush upon you in a day or two; there is _much_, at

least a _little_ addition. I am happy to say that Frere and Heber, and

some other "good men and true," have been kind enough to adopt the same

opinion that you did.

Pray write when you like, and believe me,

Ever yours,

BYRON.

P.S.--Murray has _offered_ me a thousand guineas for the _two_ ('Giaour'

and 'Bride'), and told M'e. de Stael that he had _paid_ them to me!! I

should be glad to be able to tell her so too. But the truth is, he

would; but I thought the fair way was to decline it till May, and, at

the end of 6 months, he can safely say whether he can afford it or

not--without running any risk by Speculation. If he paid them now and

lost by it, it would be hard. If he gains, it will be time enough when

he has already funded his profits. But he needed not have told "_la

Baronne_" such a devil of an uncalled for piece of--premature _truth_,

perhaps--but, nevertheless, a _lie_ in the mean time.

[Footnote 1: Hodgson, now engaged to Miss Tayler, was anxious to clear

off his father's liabilities. Byron gave him from first to last the sum

of £1500 for the purpose. Hodgson, in a letter to his uncle, thus

describes the gift ('Memoir of Rev. F. Hodgson', vol. i. pp. 268, 269):

"My noble-hearted friend, Lord Byron, after many offers of a similar

kind, which I felt bound to refuse, has irresistibly in my present

circumstances ... volunteered to pay all my debts, and within a few

pounds it is done! Oh, if you knew (but _you_ do know) the exultation

of heart, aye, and of head too, I feel at being free from these

depressing embarrassments, you would, as I do, bless my dearest friend

and brother Byron."]

* * * * *

366.--To John Murray.

Dec. 2, 1813.

Dear Sir,--When you can, let the couplet enclosed be inserted either in

the page, or in the Errata page. I trust it is in time for some of the

copies. This alteration is in the same part--the page _but one_ before

the last correction sent.

Yours, etc.,

P.S.--I am afraid, from all I hear, that people are rather inordinate in

their expectations, which is very unlucky, but cannot now be helped.

This comes of Mr. Perry and one's wise friends; but do not _you_ wind

_your_ hopes of success to the same pitch, for fear of accidents, and I

can assure you that my philosophy will stand the test very fairly; and I

have done every thing to ensure you, at all events, from positive loss,

which will be some satisfaction to both.

* * * * *

367.--To Leigh Hunt.

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

My dear Sir,--Few things could be more welcome than your note, and on

Saturday morning I will avail myself of your permission to thank you for

it in person. My time has not been passed, since we met, either

profitably or agreeably. A very short period after my last visit, an

incident occurred with which, I fear, you are not unacquainted, as

report, in many mouths and more than one paper, was busy with the topic.

That, naturally, gave me much uneasiness. Then I nearly incurred a

lawsuit on the sale of an estate; but that is now arranged: next--but

why should I go on with a series of selfish and silly details? I merely

wish to assure you that it was not the frivolous forgetfulness of a

mind, occupied by what is called pleasure (_not_ in the true sense of

Epicurus), that kept me away; but a perception of my, then, unfitness to

share the society of those whom I value and wish not to displease. I

hate being _larmoyant_, and making a serious face among those who are

cheerful.

It is my wish that our acquaintance, or, if you please to accept it,

friendship, may be permanent. I have been lucky enough to preserve some

friends from a very early period, and I hope, as I do not (at least now)

select them lightly, I shall not lose them capriciously. I have a

thorough esteem for that independence of spirit [1] which you have

maintained with sterling talent, and at the expense of some suffering.

You have not, I trust, abandoned the poem you were composing, when Moore

and I partook of your hospitality in the summer. I hope a time will come

when he and I may be able to repay you in kind for the _latter_--for the

rhyme, at least in _quantity_, you are in arrear to both.

Believe me, very truly and affectionately yours,

Byron.

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

"My dear Lord,--I need not tell you how much your second letter has

gratified me, for I am apt to speak as sincerely as I think (you must

suffer me to talk in this way after what you have been kind enough to

say of my independence), and it always rejoices me to find that those

whom I wish to regard will take me at my word. But I shall grow

egotistical upon the strength of your Lordship's good opinion. I shall

be heartily glad to see you on Saturday morning, and perhaps shall

prevail upon you to take a luncheon with us at our dinner-time(3). The

nature of your letter would have brought upon you a long answer,

filled perhaps with an enthusiasm that might have made you smile; but

I am keeping your servant in the cold, and so, among other good

offices, you see what he has done for you. However, I would not make a

light thing of so good a matter as I mean my enthusiasm to be, and

intend, before I have done, that you shall have as sound a regard for

it, as I have for the feelings on your Lordship's part that have

called it forth.

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

"Leigh Hunt.

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

* * * * *

368.--To John Murray.

Dec. 3, 1813.

I send you a _scratch_ or _two_, the which _heal_. The _Christian

Observer_ [1] is very savage, but certainly uncommonly well written--and

quite uncomfortable at the naughtiness of book and author. I rather

suspect you won't much like the _present_ to be more moral, if it is to

share also the usual fate of your virtuous volumes.

Let me see a proof of the _six_ before _incorporation_.

[Footnote 1: The 'Christian Observer' for November, 1813 (pp. 731-737)

felt compelled to review 'The Giaour', because of its extraordinary

popularity; but it found that some of the passages savoured "too much of

Newgate and Bedlam for our expurgated pages." It acknowledged one

obligation to Byron.

"He never attempts to deceive the world by representing the profligate

as happy.... And his testimony is of the more value, as his situation

in life must have permitted him to see the experiment tried under the

most favourable circumstances. He has probably seen more than one

example of young men of high birth, talents, and expectancies, ...

sink under the burden of unsubdued tempers, licentious alliances, and

ennervating indulgence.... He has _seen_ all this; nay, perhaps--But

we check our pen," etc., etc.]

* * * * *

369.--To John Murray.

Dec. 3, 1813.

My dear Sir,--Look out the Encyclopedia article _Mecca_ whether it is

there or at _Medina_ the Prophet is entombed, if at Medina the first

lines of my alteration must run:

Blest as the call which from Medina's dome

Invites Devotion to her Prophet's tomb, etc.

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

Abydos'. Yours, B.

You will find this out either by Article _Mecca, Medina_ or _Mahommed_.

I have no book of reference by me.

* * * * *

370.--To John Murray.

[No date.]

Did you look out? is it _Medina_ or _Mecca_ that contains the _holy_

Sepulchre? don't make me blaspheme by your negligence. I have no books

of reference or I would save you the trouble. I _blush_ as a good

Mussulman to have confused the point. Yours, B.

* * * * *

371.--To John Murray.

Dec. 4, 1813.

Dear Sir,--I have redde through your Persian Tales [1], and have taken

the liberty of making some remarks on the _blank_ pages. There are many

beautiful passages, and an interesting story; and I cannot give you a

stronger proof that such is my opinion, than by the _date_ of the

_hour--two o'clock_,--till which it has kept me awake _without a yawn_.

The conclusion is not quite correct in _costume_: there is no _Mussulman

suicide_ on record--at least for _love_. But this matters not. The tale

must have been written by some one who has been on the spot, and I wish

him, and he deserves, success. Will you apologise to the author for the

liberties I have taken with his MS.? Had I been less awake to, and

interested in, his theme, I had been less obtrusive; but you know _I_

always take this in good part, and I hope he will. It is difficult to

say what _will_ succeed, and still more to pronounce what _will not_.

_I_ am at this moment in _that uncertainty_ (on your _own_ score); and

it is no small proof of the author's powers to be able to _charm_ and

_fix_ a _mind's_ attention on similar subjects and climates in such a

predicament. That he may have the same effect upon all his readers is

very sincerely the wish, and hardly the _doubt_, of

Yours truly, B.

[Footnote 1: Henry Gally Knight (1786-1846), who was with Byron at

Trinity, Cambridge, and afterwards distinguished himself by his

architectural writings (e.g. 'The Normans in Sicily,' 1838), began his

literary career with 'Ilderim, a Syrian Tale' (1816). 'Phrosyne, a

Grecian Tale'; 'Alashtar, an Arabian Tale' (1817), was followed, after a

considerable interval, by 'Eastern Sketches' (about 1829-30). If the

manuscript of the first-mentioned volume is that to which Byron refers,

he seems to have changed his mind as to its merits (March 25, 1817):

"I tried at 'Ilderim;'

Ahem!"]

* * * * *

372.--To John Murray.

Monday evening, Dec. 6, 1813.

Dear Sir,--It is all very well, except that the lines are not numbered

properly, and a diabolical mistake, page 67., which _must_ be corrected

with the _pen_, if no other way remains; it is the omission of "_not_"

before "_disagreeable_" in the _note_ on the _amber_ rosary. This is

really horrible, and nearly as bad as the stumble of mine at the

Threshold--I mean the _misnomer_ of bride. Pray do not let a copy go

without the "_not_;" it is nonsense, and worse than nonsense, as it now

stands. I wish the printer was saddled with a vampire.

Yours ever, B.

P.S.--It is still _hath_ instead of _have_ in page 20.; never was any

one so _misused_ as I am by your Devils of printers.

P.S.--I hope and trust the "_not_" was inserted in the first Edition. We

must have something--any thing--to set it right. It is enough to answer

for one's own bulls, without other people's.

* * * * *

373.--To Thomas Moore.

December 8, 1813.

Your letter, like all the best, and even kindest things in this world,

is both painful and pleasing. But, first, to what sits nearest. Do you

know I was actually about to dedicate to you,--not in a formal

inscription, as to one's _elders_,--but through a short prefatory

letter, in which I boasted myself your intimate, and held forth the

prospect of _your_ poem; when, lo! the recollection of your strict

injunctions of secrecy as to the said poem, more than _once_ repeated by

word and letter, flashed upon me, and marred my intents. I could have no

motive for repressing my own desire of alluding to you (and not a day

passes that I do not think and talk of you), but an idea that you might,

yourself, dislike it. You cannot doubt my sincere admiration, waving

personal friendship for the present, which, by the by, is not less

sincere and deep rooted. I have you by rote and by heart; of which _ecce

signum!_ When I was at Aston, on my first visit, I have a habit, in

passing my time a good deal alone, of--I won't call it singing, for that

I never attempt except to myself--but of uttering, to what I think

tunes, your "Oh breathe not," "When the last glimpse," and "When he who

adores thee," with others of the same minstrel;--they are my matins and

vespers. I assuredly did not intend them to be overheard, but, one

morning, in comes, not _La Donna_, but _Il Marito_, with a very grave

face, saying, "Byron, I must request you won't sing any more, at least

of those songs." I stared, and said, "Certainly, but why?"--"To tell you

the truth," quoth he, "they make my wife _cry_, and so melancholy, that

I wish her to hear no more of them."

Now, my dear M., the effect must have been from your words, and

certainly not my music. I merely mention this foolish story to show you

how much I am indebted to you for even your pastimes. A man may praise

and praise, but no one recollects but that which pleases--at least, in

composition. Though I think no one equal to you in that department, or

in satire,--and surely no one was ever so popular in both,--I certainly

am of opinion that you have not yet done all _you_ can do, though more

than enough for any one else. I want, and the world expects, a longer

work from you; and I see in you what I never saw in poet before, a

strange diffidence of your own powers, which I cannot account for, and

which must be unaccountable, when a _Cossac_ like me can appal a

_cuirassier_. Your story I did not, could not, know,--I thought only of

a Peri. I wish you had confided in me, not for your sake, but mine, and

to prevent the world from losing a much better poem than my own, but

which, I yet hope, this _clashing_ will not even now deprive them of

[1].

Mine is the work of a week, written, _why_ I have partly told you, and

partly I cannot tell you by letter--some day I will.

Go on--I shall really be very unhappy if I at all interfere with you.

The success of mine is yet problematical; though the public will

probably purchase a certain quantity, on the presumption of their own

propensity for 'The Giaour' and such "horrid mysteries." The only

advantage I have is being on the spot; and that merely amounts to saving

me the trouble of turning over books which I had better read again. If

_your chamber_ was furnished in the same way, you have no need to _go

there_ to describe--I mean only as to _accuracy_--because I drew it from

recollection.

This last thing of mine _may_ have the same fate, and I assure you I

have great doubts about it. But, even if not, its little day will be

over before you are ready and willing. Come out--"screw your courage to

the sticking-place." [2]

Except the _Post Bag_ (and surely you cannot complain of a want of

success there), you have not been _regularly_ out for some years. No man

stands higher,--whatever you may think on a rainy day, in your

provincial retreat.

"Aucun homme, dans aucune langue, n'a été, peut-être, plus

complètement le poëte du coeur et le poëte des femmes. Les critiques

lui reprochent de n'avoir représenté le monde ní tel qu'il est, ni tel

qu'il doit être; _mais les femmes répondent qu'il l'a représenté tel

qu'elles le désirent._"

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

Metastasio.

Write to me, and tell me of _yourself_. Do you remember what Rousseau

said to some one--"Have we quarrelled? you have talked to me often, and

never once mentioned yourself."

P.S.--The last sentence is an indirect apology for my egotism,--but I

believe in letters it is allowed. I wish it was _mutual_. I have met

with an odd reflection in Grimm; it shall not--at least the bad part--be

applied to you or me, though _one_ of us has certainly an indifferent

name--but this it is:--"Many people have the reputation of being wicked,

with whom we should be too happy to pass our lives". I need not add it

is a woman's saying--a Mademoiselle de Sommery's [4].

[Footnote 1:

"Among the stories intended to be introduced into 'Lalla Rookh', which

I had begun, but, from various causes, never finished, there was one

which I had made some progress in, at the time of the appearance of

'The Bride', and which, on reading that poem, I found to contain such

singular coincidences with it, not only in locality and costume, but

in plot and characters, that I immediately gave up my story

altogether, and began another on an entirely new subject--the

Fire-worshippers. To this circumstance, which I immediately

communicated to him, Lord Byron alludes in this letter. In my hero (to

whom I had even given the name of 'Zelim,' and who was a descendant of

Ali, outlawed, with all his followers, by the reigning Caliph) it was

my intention to shadow out, as I did afterwards in another form, the

national cause of Ireland. To quote the words of my letter to Lord

Byron on the subject: 'I chose this story because one writes best

about what one feels most, and I thought the parallel with Ireland

would enable me to infuse some vigour into my hero's character. But to

aim at vigour and strong feeling after 'you' is hopeless;--that region

"was made for Cæsar."'"

(Moore).]

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

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

p. 436.]

[Footnote 4: Grimm ('Correspondance Littéraire', ed. 1813, part iii. tom

ii. p. 126) says of Mlle. de Sommery, who died of apoplexy in 1790,

"Que de gens ont la réputation d'être méchans, avec lesquels on serait

trop heureux de passer sa vie."

The 'Biographie Universelle' says of her,

"Elle avait du talent pour écrire; mais elle ne l'exerça que fort tard

.... Le premier livre qu'elle publia, n'étant plus très jeune, fut un

recueil de pensées détachées, dédié aux mânes de Saurin, qu'elle

intitula 'Doutes sur differentes Opinions reçues dans la Societé'. Ce

recueil eut un véritable succés."

Mlle. de Sommery also published, besides the 'Doutes' (1782), 'Lettres

de Madame la Comtesse de L. à M. le Comte de R'. (1785); 'Lettres de

Mlle. de Tourville à Madame la Comtesse de Lénoncourt' (1788);

'L'Oreille, conte Asiatique' (1789).]

* * * * *

374.--To John Galt [1].

Dec. 11, 1813.

My dear Galt,--There was no offence--there _could_ be none. I thought it

by no means impossible that we might have hit on something similar,

particularly as you are a dramatist, and was anxious to assure you of

the truth, viz., that I had not wittingly seized upon plot, sentiment,

or incident; and I am very glad that I have not in any respect trenched

upon your subjects. Something still more singular is, that the _first_

part, where you have found a coincidence in some events within your

observations on _life_, was _drawn_ from _observations_ of mine also,

and I meant to have gone on with the story, but on _second_ thoughts, I

thought myself _two centuries_ at least too late for the subject; which,

though admitting of very powerful feeling and description, yet is not

adapted for this age, at least this country, though the finest works of

the Greeks, one of Schiller's and Alfieri's in modern times, besides

several of our _old_ (and best) dramatists, have been grounded on

incidents of a similar cast. I therefore altered it as you perceive, and

in so doing have weakened the whole, by interrupting the train of

thought: and in composition I do not think _second_ thoughts are the

best, though _second_ expressions may improve the first ideas.

I do not know how other men feel towards those they have met abroad, but

to me there seems a kind of tie established between all who have met

together in a foreign country, as if we had met in a state of

pre-existence, and were talking over a life that has ceased: but I

always look forward to renewing my travels; and though _you_, I think,

are now stationary, if I can at all forward your pursuits _there_ as

well as here, I shall be truly glad in the opportunity.

Ever yours very sincerely, B.

P.S.--I leave town for a day or two on Monday, but after that I am

always at home, and happy to see you till half-past two.

[Footnote 1: For John Galt, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 243 [Footnote 1 of

Letter 130], and vol. ii. p. 101, 'note' 1 [Footnote 1 of Letter 255].

Galt wrote to Byron in 1813, pointing out that "there was a remarkable

coincidence in the story" (of 'The Bride of Abydos') "with a matter in

which I had been interested" ('Life of Byron', p. 180, ed. 1830). Byron,

imagining himself charged with plagiarism, wrote a somewhat angry reply,

to which Gait answered by stating that the coincidence was not one of

ideas, sentiment, or story, but of real fact. He received the above

answer ('Life of Byron', pp. 181, 182).

On this poem Byron seems to have been particularly sensitive. He is

accused of borrowing the opening lines from Mignon's song in Goethe's

'Wilhelm Meister':

"Kennst du das Land wo die Citronen blühn?"

Cyrus Redding ('Yesterday and To-day', vol. ii. pp. 14, 15) suggests

that Byron used the translation of the poem which he himself had made

and published in 1812 or 1813.

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

"Do you know de Staël's lines?" he asked Lady Blessington

('Conversations', pp. 326, 327); "for if I am a thief, she must be the

plundered, as I don't read German and do French: yet I could almost

swear that I never saw her verses when I wrote mine, nor do I even now

remember them. I think the first began with 'Cette terre,' etc., etc.;

but the rest I forget. As you have a good memory, perhaps you would

repeat them."

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

"'Cette terre, où les myrtes fleurissent,

Où les rayons des cieux tombent avec amour,

Où des sons enchanteurs dans les airs retentissent,

Où la plus douce nuit succéde au plus beau jour,' etc."]

* * * * *

375.--To John Murray.

Decr. y'r 14th, 1813.

Deare Sir,--Send y'e E'r of ye new R'w a copy as he hath had y'e trouble

of two walks on y't acct.

As to the man of the _Satirist_--I hope you have too much spirit to

allow a single Sheet to be offered as a peace offering to him or any

one. If you _do_, expect _never_ to be _forgiven_ by me--if he is not

personal he is quite welcome to his opinion--and if he is, I have my own

remedy.

Send a copy _double_ to Dr. Clarke (y'e traveller) Cambrigge by y'e

first opportunitie--and let me see you in y'e morninge y't I may mention

certain thinges y'e which require sundrie though slight alterations.

Sir, your Servitor, Biroñ

* * * * *

376.--To Thomas Ashe [1].

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

Sir,--I leave town for a few days to-morrow. On my return, I will answer

your letter more at length.

Whatever may be your situation, I cannot but commend your resolution to

abjure and abandon the publication and composition of works such as

those to which you have alluded. Depend upon it they amuse _few_,

disgrace both _reader_ and _writer_, and benefit _none_. It will be my

wish to assist you, as far as my limited means will admit, to break such

a bondage. In your answer, inform me what sum you think would enable you

to extricate yourself from the hands of your employers, and to regain,

at least, temporary independence, and I shall be glad to contribute my

mite towards it. At present, I must conclude. Your name is not unknown

to me, and I regret, for your own sake, that you have ever lent it to

the works you mention. In saying this, I merely repeat your _own words_

in your letter to me, and have no wish whatever to say a single syllable

that may appear to insult your misfortunes. If I have, excuse me; it is

unintentional.

Yours, etc.,

BYRON.

[Footnote 1: Thomas Ashe (1770-1835) had already written books of travel

in North and South America, and two novels--'The Spirit of "The

Book'"(1811), and 'The Liberal Critic, or Henry Percy' (1812). He was a

man of more ability than character, but possessed little of either. His

'Memoirs' (1815) describe his literary undertakings, one at least of

which was of a blackmailing kind, and are interspersed with

protestations of his desire for independence, and of regrets for the

wretched stuff that dropped from his pen.

His first novel, 'The Spirit of "The Book,"' gained some success from

its subject. In 1806-7 Lady Douglas brought certain charges against the

Princess of Wales, which were answered on her behalf by Spencer

Perceval. The extraordinary secrecy with which this defence, called "The

Book," was printed, and its complete suppression, excited curiosity,

which was increased by the following advertisement in the 'Times' for

March 27, 1809:

"'A Book'--Any Person having in their possession a COPY of a CERTAIN

BOOK, printed by Mr. Edwards, in 1807, but 'never published',

with W. Lindsell's Name as the Seller of the same on the title page,

and will bring it to W. Lindsell, Bookseller, Wimpole-Street, will

receive a handsome gratuity."

The subject-matter of this book, then unknown to the public, Ashe

professes to embody in 'The Spirit of "The Book;" or, Memoirs of

Caroline, Princess of Hasburgh, a Political and Amatory Romance' (3

vols., 1811). The letters, which purport to be written from Caroline to

Charlotte, and contain (vol. ii. pp. 152-181) an attack on the Lady

Jersey, who attended the princess, are absolutely dull, and scarcely

even indecent.

Ashe's 'Memoirs and Confessions' (3 vols., 1815) are dedicated to the

Duke of Northumberland and to Byron, to whom, in a preface written at

Havre, he acknowledges his "transcendent obligations."]

* * * * *

377.--To Professor Clarke [1].

Dec. 15, 1813.

Your very kind letter is the more agreeable, because, setting aside

talents, judgment, and the _laudari a laudato_, etc., you have been on

the spot; you have seen and described more of the East than any of your

predecessors--I need not say how ably and successfully; and (excuse the

bathos) you are one of the very few men who can pronounce how far my

costume (to use an affected but expressive word) is correct. As to

poesy, that is, as "men, gods, and columns," please to decide upon it;

but I am sure that I am anxious to have an observer's, particularly a

famous observer's, testimony on the fidelity of my manners and dresses;

and, as far as memory and an oriental twist in my imagination have

permitted, it has been my endeavour to present to the Franks, a sketch

of that of which you have and will present them a complete picture. It

was with this notion, that I felt compelled to make my hero and heroine

relatives, as you well know that none else could there obtain that

degree of intercourse leading to genuine affection; I had nearly made

them rather too much akin to each other; and though the wild passions of

the East, and some great examples in Alfieri, Ford, and Schiller (to

stop short of antiquity), might have pleaded in favour of a copyist, yet

the time and the north (not Frederic, but our climate) induced me to

alter their consanguinity and confine them to cousinship. I also wished

to try my hand on a female character in Zuleika, and have endeavoured,

as far as the grossness of our masculine ideas will allow, to preserve

her purity without impairing the ardour of her attachment.

As to criticism, I have been reviewed about a hundred and fifty

times--praised and abused. I will not say that I am become indifferent

to either eulogy or condemnation, but for some years at least I have

felt grateful for the former, and have never attempted to answer the

latter. For success equal to the first efforts, I had and have no hope;

the novelty was over, and the "Bride," like all other brides, must

suffer or rejoice for and with her husband. By the bye, I have used

"bride" Turkishly, as affianced, not married; and so far it is an

English bull, which, I trust, will be at least a comfort to all

Hibernians not bigotted to monopoly. You are good enough to mention your

quotations in your third volume. I shall not only be indebted to it for

a renewal of the high gratification received from the two first, but for

preserving my relics embalmed in your own spices, and ensuring me

readers to whom I could not otherwise have aspired.

I called on you, as bounden by duty and inclination, when last in your

neighbourhood; but I shall always take my chance; you surely would not

have me inflict upon you a formal annunciation; I am proud of your

friendship, but not so fond of myself as to break in upon your better

avocations. I trust that Mrs. Clarke is well; I have never had the

honour of presentation, but I have heard so much of her in many

quarters, that any notice she is pleased to take of my productions is

not less gratifying than my thanks are sincere, both to her and you; by

all accounts I may safely congratulate you on the possession of "a

bride" whose mental and personal accomplishments are more than poetical.

P. S.--Murray has sent, or will send, a double copy of the _Bride_ and

_Giaour_; in the last one, some lengthy additions; pray accept them,

according to old custom, "from the author" to one of his better

brethren. Your Persian, or any memorial, will be a most agreeable, and

it is my fault if not an useful present. I trust your third will be out

before I sail next month; can I say or do anything for you in the

Levant? I am now in all the agonies of equipment, and full of schemes,

some impracticable, and most of them improbable; but I mean to fly

"freely to the green earth's end," [2] though not quite so fast as

Milton´s sprite.

P. S. 2nd.--I have so many things to say.--I want to show you Lord

Sligo's letter to me detailing, as he heard them on the spot, the

Athenian account of our adventure (a personal one), which certainly

first suggested to me the story of _The Giaour_. It was a strange and

not a very long story, and his report of the reports (he arrived just

after my departure, and I did not know till last summer that he knew

anything of the matter) is not very far from the truth. Don't be

alarmed. There was nothing that led further than to the water's edge;

but one part (as is often the case in life) was more singular than any

of the _Giaour's_ adventures. I never have, and never should have,

alluded to it on my own authority, from respect to the ancient proverb

on Travellers.

[Footnote 1: Dr. Clark, in October, 1814, was a candidate for the

Professorship of Anatomy, and Byron went to Cambridge to vote for his

friend. Writing to Miss Tayler, Hodgson ('Memoir', vol. i. p. 292) adds

a postscript:

"I open my letter to say that when Lord Byron went to give his vote

just now in the Senate House, the young men burst out into the most

rapturous applause."

The next day he writes again:

"I should add that as I was going to vote I met him coming away, and

presently saw that something had happened, by his extreme paleness and

agitation. Dr. Clark, who was with him, told me the cause, and I

returned with B. to my room. There I begged him to sit down and write

a letter and communicate this event, which he did not feel up to, but

wished 'I' would. So down I sate, and commenced my acquaintance

with Miss Milbanke by writing her an account of this most pleasing

event, which, although nothing at Oxford, is here very unusual indeed."

The following was Miss Milbanke's answer ('ibid'., pp. 296, 297), dated,

"Seaham, November 25, 1814:"

"Dear Sir,--It will be easier for you to imagine than for me to

express the pleasure which your very kind letter has given me. Not

only on account of its gratifying intelligence, but also as

introductory to an acquaintance which I have been taught to value, and

have sincerely desired. Allow me to consider Lord Byron's friend as

not 'a stranger,' and accept, with my sincerest thanks, my best wishes

for your own happiness.

"I am, dear sir, your faithful servant,

"A. I. MlLBANKE." ]

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

says:

"I can fly, or I can run

Quickly to the green earth´s end."]

* * * * *

378.--To Leigh Hunt.

Dec. 22, 1813.

My Dear Sir,--I am indeed "in your debt,"--and, what is still worse, am

obliged to follow _royal_ example (he has just apprised _his_ creditors

that they must wait till the next meeting), and intreat your indulgence

for, I hope, a very short time. The nearest relation and almost the only

friend I possess, has been in London for a week, and leaves it tomorrow

with me for her own residence. I return immediately; but we meet so

seldom, and are so _minuted_ when we meet at all, that I give up all

engagements till _now_, without reluctance. On my return, I must see you

to console myself for my past disappointment. I should feel highly

honoured in Mr. B.'s permission to make his acquaintance, and _there_

you are in _my_ debt; for it is a promise of last summer which I still

hope to see performed. Yesterday I had a letter from Moore; you have

probably heard from him lately; but if not, you will be glad to learn

that he is the same in heart, head, and health.

* * * * *

379.--To John Murray.

December 27, 1813.

Lord Holland is laid up with the gout, and would feel very much obliged

if you could obtain, and send as soon as possible, Madame D'Arblay's (or

even Miss Edgeworth's) new work. I know they are not out; but it is

perhaps possible for your _Majesty_ to command what we cannot with much

suing purchase, as yet. I need not say that when you are able or willing

to confer the same favour on me, I shall be obliged. I would almost fall

sick myself to get at Madame D'Arblay's writings.

P.S.--You were talking to-day of the American E'n of a certain

unquenchable memorial of my younger days [1]. As it can't be helped now,

I own I have some curiosity to see a copy of transatlantic typography.

This you will perhaps obtain, and one for yourself; but I must beg that

you will not _import more_, because, _seriously_, I _do wish_ to have

that thing forgotten as much as it has been forgiven.

If you send to the 'Globe' E'r, say that I want neither excuse nor

contradiction, but merely a discontinuance of a most ill-grounded

charge. I never was consistent in any thing but my politics; and as my

redemption depends on that solitary virtue, it is murder to carry away

my last anchor.

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

* * * * *

"MY DEAR BYRON,--You have requested me to tell you all that I heard at