"'Strato'.

For Brutus only overcame himself,

And no man else hath honour by his death.

* * * * *

'Octavius'.

According to his virtue let us use him,

With all respect and rites of burial."

'Julius Cæsar', act v. sc. 5.]

[Footnote 2: In 'The Giaour' (lines 388-392) occurs the following

passage:

"As rising on its purple wing

The insect-queen of Eastern spring

O'er emerald meadows of Kashmeer

Invites the young pursuer near," etc.

To line 389 is appended this note:

"The blue-winged butterfly of Kashmeer, the most rare and beautiful of

the species."]

[Footnote 3: See letter [Letter 365] to Francis Hodgson, p. 294.]

[Footnote 4: The letters which W.J. Baldwin, a debtor in the King's

Bench prison, wrote to Byron are preserved. Byron seems to have refused

to present the petition from diffidence, but he interested himself in

the subject, and probably induced Lord Holland to take up the question.

(See p. 318, 'note' 2 [Footnote 6 of the initial journal entry which

forms the beginning of Chapter VIII.]) In the list of abuses enumerated

by Baldwin is mentioned a "strong room," in which prisoners were

confined, without fires or glass to the windows, in the depth of winter.]

[Footnote 5: 'Richard III'., act iv, sc. 2.]

[Footnote 6: 'Sentimental Journey' (ed. 1819), vol. ii. p. 379.]

[Footnote 7: 'Ibid.', vol. ii. p. 337.]

* * * * *

Sunday, December 5.

Dallas's nephew (son to the American Attorney-general) is arrived in

this country, and tells Dallas that my rhymes are very popular in the

United States. These are the first tidings that have ever sounded like

_Fame_ to my ears--to be redde on the banks of the Ohio! The greatest

pleasure I ever derived, of this kind was from an extract, in Cooke the

actor's life, from his journal [1], stating that in the reading-room at

Albany, near Washington, he perused _English Bards, and Scotch

Reviewers_. To be popular in a rising and far country has a kind of

_posthumous feel_, very different from the ephemeral _éclat_ and

fête-ing, buzzing and party-ing compliments of the well-dressed

multitude. I can safely say that, during my _reign_ in the spring of

1812, I regretted nothing but its duration of six weeks instead of a

fortnight, and was heartily glad to resign.

Last night I supped with Lewis; and, as usual, though I neither exceeded

in solids nor fluids, have been half dead ever since. My stomach is

entirely destroyed by long abstinence, and the rest will probably

follow. Let it--I only wish the _pain_ over. The "leap in the dark" is

the least to be dreaded.

The Duke of----called. I have told them forty times that, except to

half-a-dozen old and specified acquaintances, I am invisible. His Grace

is a good, noble, ducal person; but I am content to think so at a

distance, and so--I was not at home.

Galt called.--Mem.--to ask some one to speak to Raymond in favour of his

play. We are old fellow-travellers, and, with all his eccentricities, he

has much strong sense, experience of the world, and is, as far as I have

seen, a good-natured philosophical fellow. I showed him Sligo's letter

on the reports of the Turkish girl's _aventure_ at Athens soon after it

happened. He and Lord Holland, Lewis, and Moore, and Rogers, and Lady

Melbourne have seen it. Murray has a copy. I thought it had been

_unknown_, and wish it were; but Sligo arrived only some days after, and

the _rumours_ are the subject of his letter. That I shall preserve,--_it

is as well_. Lewis and Gait were both _horrified_; and L. wondered I did

not introduce the situation into _The Giaour_. He _may_ wonder;--he

might wonder more at that production's being written at all. But to

describe the _feelings_ of _that situation_ were impossible--it is _icy_

even to recollect them.

The _Bride of Abydos_ was published on Thursday the second of December;

but how it is liked or disliked, I know not. Whether it succeeds or not

is no fault of the public, against whom I can have no complaint. But I

am much more indebted to the tale than I can ever be to the most partial

reader; as it wrung my thoughts from reality to imagination--from

selfish regrets to vivid recollections--and recalled me to a country

replete with the _brightest_ and _darkest_, but always most _lively_

colours of my memory. Sharpe called, but was not let in, which I regret.

Saw [Rogers] yesterday. I have not kept my appointment at Middleton,

which has not pleased him, perhaps; and my projected voyage with [Ward]

will, perhaps, please him less. But I wish to keep well with both. They

are instruments that don't do in concert; but, surely, their separate

tones are very musical, and I won't give up either.

It is well if I don't jar between these great discords. At present I

stand tolerably well with all, but I cannot adopt their _dislikes_;--so

many _sets_. Holland's is the first;--every thing _distingué_ is welcome

there, and certainly the _ton_ of his society is the best. Then there is

Madame de Stael's--there I never go, though I might, had I courted it.

It is composed of the----s and the----family, with a strange

sprinkling,--orators, dandies, and all kinds of _Blue_, from the regular

Grub Street uniform, down to the azure jacket of the _Littérateur_ [2]?

To see----and----sitting together, at dinner, always reminds me of

the grave, where all distinctions of friend and foe are levelled; and

they--the Reviewer and the Reviewée--the Rhinoceros and Elephant--the

Mammoth and Megalonyx--all will lie quietly together. They now _sit_

together, as silent, but not so quiet, as if they were already immured.

I did not go to the Berrys' the other night. The elder is a woman of

much talent, and both are handsome, and must have been beautiful.

To-night asked to Lord H.'s--shall I go? um!--perhaps.

Morning, two o'clock.

Went to Lord H.'s--party numerous--_mi_lady in perfect good humour, and

consequently _perfect_. No one more agreeable, or perhaps so much so,

when she will. Asked for Wednesday to dine and meet the Stael--asked

particularly, I believe, out of mischief to see the first interview

after the _note_, with which Corinne professes herself to be so much

taken. I don't much like it; she always talks of _my_self or _her_self,

and I am not (except in soliloquy, as now,) much enamoured of either

subject--especially one's works. What the devil shall I say about _De

l'Allemagne_? I like it prodigiously; but unless I can twist my

admiration into some fantastical expression, she won't believe me; and I

know, by experience, I shall be overwhelmed with fine things about

rhyme, etc., etc. The lover, Mr.----[Rocca], was there to-night, and

C----said "it was the only proof _he_ had seen of her good taste."

Monsieur L'Amant is remarkably handsome; but _I_ don't think more so

than her book.

C----[Campbell] looks well,--seems pleased, and dressed to _sprucery_.

A blue coat becomes him,--so does his new wig. He really looked as if

Apollo had sent him a birthday suit, or a wedding-garment, and was witty

and lively. He abused Corinne's book, which I regret; because, firstly,

he understands German, and is consequently a fair judge; and, secondly,

he is _first-rate_, and, consequently, the best of judges. I reverence

and admire him; but I won't give up my opinion--why should I? I read

_her_ again and again, and there can be no affectation in this. I cannot

be mistaken (except in taste) in a book I read and lay down, and take up

again; and no book can be totally bad which finds _one_, even _one_

reader, who can say as much sincerely.

Campbell talks of lecturing next spring; his last lectures were

eminently successful. Moore thought of it, but gave it up,--I don't know

why.----had been prating _dignity_ to him, and such stuff; as if a man

disgraced himself by instructing and pleasing at the same time.

Introduced to Marquis Buckingham--saw Lord Gower [3]--he is going to

Holland; Sir J. and Lady Mackintosh and Horner, G. Lamb [4], with I know

not how many (Richard Wellesley, one--a clever man), grouped about the

room. Little Henry Fox, a very fine boy, and very promising in mind and

manner,--he went away to bed, before I had time to talk to him. I am

sure I had rather hear him than all the _savans_.

[Footnote 1: In Dunlap's 'Memoirs of George Frederick Cooke' (vol. ii.

p. 313), the following passage is quoted from the actor's journal:

"Read 'English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers', by Lord Byron. It is well

written. His Lordship is rather severe, perhaps justly so, on Walter

Scott, and most assuredly justly severe upon Monk Lewis."]

[Footnote 2: In Byron's 'Detached Thoughts' (1821) occurs this passage:

"In general I do not draw well with literary men. Not that I dislike

them, but I never know what to say to them after I have praised their

last publication. There are several exceptions, to be sure; but then

they have always been men of the world, such as Scott and Moore, etc.,

or visionaries out of it, such as Shelley, etc. But your literary

every-day man and I never went well in company, especially your

foreigner, whom I never could abide,--except Giordani, and--and--and

(I really can't name any other); I do not remember a man amongst them

whom I ever wished to see twice, except, perhaps, Mezzophanti, who is

a Monster of Languages, the Briareus of parts of speech, a walking

Polyglott, and more--who ought to have existed at the time of the

Tower of Babel as universal Interpreter. He is, indeed, a Marvel,

--unassuming also. I tried him in all the tongues of which I have a

single oath (or adjuration to the Gods against Postboys, Savages,

Tartars, boatmen, sailors, pilots, Gondoliers, Muleteers,

Cameldrivers, Vetturini, Postmasters, post-horses, post-houses,

post-everything) and Egad! he astounded me even to my English."

On this passage Sir Walter Scott makes the following note:

"I suspect Lord Byron of some self-deceit as to this matter. It

appears that he liked extremely the only 'first-rate' men of letters

into whose society he happened to be thrown in England. They happened

to be men of the world, it is true; but how few men of very great

eminence in literature, how few intellectually Lord B.'s peers, have

'not' been men of the world? Does any one doubt that the topics he had

most pleasure in discussing with Scott or Moore were literary ones, or

had at least some relation to literature?

"As for the foreign 'literati', pray what 'literati' anything like his

own rank did he encounter abroad? I have no doubt he would have been

as much at home with an Alfieri, a Schiller, or a Goethe, or a

Voltaire, as he was with Scott or Moore, and yet two of these were

very little of men of the world in the sense in which he uses that

phrase.

"As to 'every-day men of letters,' pray who does like their company?

Would a clever man like a prosing 'captain, or colonel, or

knight-in-arms' the 'better' for happening to be himself the Duke of

Wellington?"]

[Footnote 3: George Granville Leveson Gower (1786-1861) succeeded his

father in 1833 as second Duke of Sutherland.]

[Footnote 4: George Lamb (1784-1834), the fourth son of the first Lord

Melbourne, married, in 1809, Caroline Rosalie St. Jules. As one of the

early contributors to the 'Edinburgh Review', he was attacked by Byron

in 'English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers', lines 57 and 516 (see 'Poems',

ed. 1898, vol. i. p. 301, 'note' I). A clever amateur actor, his comic

opera 'Whistle for It' was produced at Covent Garden, April 10, 1807,

and he was afterwards on the Drury Lane Committee of Management. His

translation of the 'Poems of Catullus' was published in 1821. In 1819,

as the representative of the official Whigs, he was elected for

Westminster against Hobhouse; but was defeated at the next election

(1820).]

* * * * *

Monday, Dec. 6.

Murray tells me that Croker asked him why the thing was called the

_Bride_ of Abydos? It is a cursed awkward question, being unanswerable.

_She_ is not a _bride_, only about to be one; but for, etc., etc., etc.

I don't wonder at his finding out the _Bull_; but the detection----is

too late to do any good. I was a great fool to make it, and am ashamed

of not being an Irishman.

Campbell last night seemed a little nettled at something or other--I

know not what. We were standing in the ante-saloon, when Lord H. brought

out of the other room a vessel of some composition similar to that which

is used in Catholic churches, and, seeing us, he exclaimed, "Here is

some _incense_ for you." Campbell answered--"Carry it to Lord Byron, _he

is used to it_."

Now, this comes of "bearing no brother near the throne." [1]

I, who have no throne, nor wish to have one _now_, whatever I may have

done, am at perfect peace with all the poetical fraternity; or, at

least, if I dislike any, it is not _poetically_, but _personally_.

Surely the field of thought is infinite; what does it signify who is

before or behind in a race where there is no _goal_? The temple of fame

is like that of the Persians, the universe; our altar, the tops of

mountains. I should be equally content with Mount Caucasus, or Mount

Anything; and those who like it, may have Mount Blanc or Chimborazo,

without my envy of their elevation.

I think I may _now_ speak thus; for I have just published a poem, and am

quite ignorant whether it is _likely_ to be _liked_ or not. I have

hitherto heard little in its commendation, and no one can _downright_

abuse it to one's face, except in print. It can't be good, or I should

not have stumbled over the threshold, and blundered in my very title.

But I began it with my heart full of----, and my head of

oriental_ities_ (I can't call them _isms_), and wrote on rapidly.

This journal is a relief. When I am tired--as I generally am--out comes

this, and down goes every thing. But I can't read it over; and God knows

what contradictions it may contain. If I am sincere with myself (but I

fear one lies more to one's self than to any one else), every page

should confute, refute, and utterly abjure its predecessor.

Another scribble from Martin Baldwin the petitioner; I have neither head

nor nerves to present it. That confounded supper at Lewis's has spoiled

my digestion and my philanthropy. I have no more charity than a cruet of

vinegar. Would I were an ostrich, and dieted on fire-irons,--or any

thing that my gizzard could get the better of.

To-day saw Ward. His uncle [2] is dying, and W. don't much affect our

Dutch determinations. I dine with him on Thursday, provided _l'oncle_ is

not dined upon, or peremptorily bespoke by the posthumous epicures

before that day. I wish he may recover--not for _our_ dinner's sake, but

to disappoint the undertaker, and the rascally reptiles that may well

wait, since they _will_ dine at last.

Gell called--he of Troy--after I was out. Mem.--to return his visit.

But my Mems. are the very landmarks of forgetfulness;--something like a

light-house, with a ship wrecked under the nose of its lantern. I never

look at a Mem. without seeing that I have remembered to forget. Mem.--I

have forgotten to pay Pitt's taxes, and suppose I shall be surcharged.

"An I do not turn rebel when thou art king "--oons! I believe my very

biscuit is leavened with that impostor's imposts.

Lady Melbourne returns from Jersey's to-morrow;--I must call. A Mr.

Thomson has sent a song, which I must applaud. I hate annoying them with

censure or silence;--and yet I hate _lettering_.

Saw Lord Glenbervie [3] and this Prospectus, at Murray's, of a new

Treatise on Timber. Now here is a man more useful than all the

historians and rhymers ever planted. For, by preserving our woods and

forests, he furnishes materials for all the history of Britain worth

reading, and all the odes worth nothing.

Redde a good deal, but desultorily. My head is crammed with the most

useless lumber. It is odd that when I do read, I can only bear the

chicken broth of--_any thing_ but Novels. It is many a year since I

looked into one, (though they are sometimes ordered, by way of

experiment, but never taken,) till I looked yesterday at the worst parts

of the _Monk_. These descriptions ought to have been written by Tiberius

at Caprea--they are forced--the _philtered_ ideas of a jaded voluptuary.

It is to me inconceivable how they could have been composed by a man of

only twenty--his age when he wrote them. They have no nature--all the

sour cream of cantharides. I should have suspected Buffon of writing

them on the death-bed of his detestable dotage. I had never redde this

edition, and merely looked at them from curiosity and recollection of

the noise they made, and the name they had left to Lewis. But they could

do no harm, except----.

Called this evening on my agent--my business as usual. Our strange

adventures are the only inheritances of our family that have not

diminished.

I shall now smoke two cigars, and get me to bed. The cigars don't keep

well here. They get as old as a _donna di quaranti anni_ in the sun of

Africa. The Havannah are the best;--but neither are so pleasant as a

hooka or chiboque. The Turkish tobacco is mild, and their horses

entire--two things as they should be. I am so far obliged to this

Journal, that it preserves me from verse,--at least from keeping it. I

have just thrown a poem into the fire (which it has relighted to my

great comfort), and have smoked out of my head the plan of another. I

wish I could as easily get rid of thinking, or, at least, the confusion

of thought.

[Footnote 1: Pope's 'Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot', line 197.]

[Footnote 2: William Bosville (1745-1813), called colonel, but really

only lieutenant in the Coldstream Guards, was a noted 'bon vivant',

whose maxim for life was "Better never than late." He was famous for his

hospitality in Welbeck Street. A friend of Horne Tooke, he dined with

him at Wimbledon every Sunday in the spring and autumn. See 'Diversions

of Purley', ed. 1805, ii. 490:

"Your friend Bosville and I have entered into a strict engagement to

belong for ever to the established government, to the Established

Church, and to the established language of our country, because they

are established."]

[Footnote 3: Sylvester Douglas (1743-1823), created in 1800 Baron

Glenbervie, married, in September, 1789, Catherine, eldest daughter of

Lord North, afterwards Earl of Guildford. He was educated at Leyden for

the medical profession, a circumstance to which Sheridan alludes in the

lines:

"Glenbervie, Glenbervie,

What's good for the scurvy?

For ne'er be your old trade forgot."

Gibbon writes of him, October 4, 1788 ('Letters', vol. ii. p. 180),

"He has been curious, attentive, agreeable; and in every place where

he has resided some days, he has left acquaintance who esteem and

regret him; I never knew so clear and general an impression."

Glenbervie was Surveyor-General of Woods and Forests, 1803-1806, and

again from 1807 to 1810. In that year he became First Commissioner of

Land Revenue and Woods and Forests, and held the appointment till

August, 1814.]

* * * * *

Tuesday, December 7.

Went to bed, and slept dreamlessly, but not refreshingly. Awoke, and up

an hour before being called; but dawdled three hours in dressing. When

one subtracts from life infancy (which is vegetation),--sleep, eating,

and swilling--buttoning and unbuttoning--how much remains of downright

existence? The summer of a dormouse.

Redde the papers and _tea_-ed and soda-watered, and found out that the

fire was badly lighted. Lord Glenbervie wants me to go to Brighton--um!

This morning, a very pretty billet from the Stael about meeting her at

Ld. H.'s to-morrow. She has written, I dare say, twenty such this

morning to different people, all equally flattering to each. So much the

better for her and those who believe all she wishes them, or they wish

to believe. She has been pleased to be pleased with my slight eulogy in

the note annexed to _The Bride_. This is to be accounted for in several

ways,--firstly, all women like all, or any, praise; secondly, this was

unexpected, because I have never courted her; and, thirdly, as Scrub [1]

says, those who have been all their lives regularly praised, by regular

critics, like a little variety, and are glad when any one goes out of

his way to say a civil thing; and, fourthly, she is a very good-natured

creature, which is the best reason, after all, and, perhaps, the only

one.

A knock--knocks single and double. Bland called. He says Dutch society

(he has been in Holland) is second-hand French; but the women are like

women every where else. This is a bore: I should like to see them a

little _un_like; but that can't be expected.

Went out--came home--this, that, and the other--and "all is vanity,

saith the preacher," and so say I, as part of his congregation. Talking

of vanity, whose praise do I prefer? Why, Mrs. Inchbald's [2], and that

of the Americans. The first, because her _Simple Story_ and _Nature and

Art_ are, to me, _true_ to their _titles_; and, consequently, her short

note to Rogers about _The Giaour_ delighted me more than any thing,

except the _Edinburgh Review_. I like the Americans, because _I_

happened to be in _Asia_, while the _English Bards, and Scotch

Reviewers_ were redde in _America_. If I could have had a speech against

the _Slave Trade in Africa_, and an epitaph on a dog in _Europe_ (i.e.

in the _Morning Post_), my _vertex sublimis_ [3] would certainly have

displaced stars enough to overthrow the Newtonian system.

[Footnote 1: The reference is only to the form of the sentence. "Scrub,"

in 'The Beaux' Stratagem' (act iv. se. 2), says,

"First, it must be a plot, because there's a woman in't; secondly, it

must be a plot, because there's a priest in't; thirdly, it must be a

plot, because there's French gold in't; and fourthly, it must be a

plot, because I don't know what to make on't."]

[Footnote 2: Elizabeth Simpson (1753-1821), daughter of a Suffolk

farmer, married (1772) Joseph Inchbald, actor and portrait-painter.

Actress, dramatist, and novelist, she was one of the most attractive

women of the day. Winning in manner, quick in repartee, an admirable

teller of stories, she always gathered all the men round her chair.

"It was vain," said Mrs. Shelley, "for any other woman to attempt to

gain attention."

Miss Edgeworth wished to see her first among living celebrities; her

charm fascinated Sheridan, and overcame the prejudice of Lamb; even

Peter Pindar wrote verse in her praise. From the age of eighteen she was

wooed on and off the stage, where her slight stammer hindered her

complete success; but no breath of scandal tarnished her name. Had John

Kemble, the hero of 'A Simple Story', proposed to her, she probably

would have married him. Mrs. Butler records that her uncle John once

asked the actress, when matrimony was the subject of green-room

conversation, "Well, Mrs. Inchbald, would you have had me?" "Dear

heart," said the stammering beauty, turning her sunny face up at him,"

I'd have j-j-j-jumped at you." Mrs. Inchbald's 'Simple Story' (1791)

wears a more modern air than any previously written novel. Her dramatic

experience stood her in good stead. "Dorriforth," the priest, educated,

like Kemble, at Douay, impressed himself upon Macaulay's mind as the

true type of the Roman Catholic peer. 'Nature and Art' (1796) was

written when Mrs. Inchbald was most under the influence of the French

Revolution. Of two boys who come to London to seek their fortunes,

Nature makes one a musician, and Art raises the other into a dean. The

trial and condemnation of "Agnes" perhaps suggested to Lytton the scene

in 'Paul Clifford', where "Brandon" condemns his own son.]

[Footnote 3: Horace, 'Odes', I. i. 36.]

* * * * *

Friday, December 10, 1813.

I am _ennuyé_ beyond my usual tense of that yawning verb, which I am

always conjugating; and I don't find that society much mends the matter.

I am too lazy to shoot myself--and it would annoy Augusta, and perhaps

----; but it would be a good thing for George, on the other side, and no

bad one for me; but I won't be tempted.

I have had the kindest letter from Moore. I _do_ think that man is the

best-hearted, the only _hearted_ being I ever encountered; and, then,

his talents are equal to his feelings.

Dined on Wednesday at Lord H.'s--the Staffords, Staels, Cowpers,

Ossulstones, Melbournes, Mackintoshes, etc., etc.--and was introduced to

the Marquis and Marchioness of Stafford [1],--an unexpected event. My

quarrel with Lord Carlisle (their or his brother-in-law) having rendered

it improper, I suppose, brought it about. But, if it was to happen at

all, I wonder it did not occur before. She is handsome, and must have

been beautiful--and her manners are _princessly_.

The Stael was at the other end of the table, and less loquacious than

heretofore. We are now very good friends; though she asked Lady

Melbourne whether I had really any _bonhommie_. She might as well have

asked that question before she told C. L. "_c'est un demon_." True

enough, but rather premature, for _she_ could not have found it out, and

so--she wants me to dine there next Sunday.

Murray prospers, as far as circulation. For my part, I adhere (in

liking) to my Fragment. It is no wonder that I wrote one--my mind is a

fragment.

Saw Lord Gower, Tierney [2], etc., in the square. Took leave of Lord

Gower, who is going to Holland and Germany. He tells me that he carries

with him a parcel of _Harolds_ and _Giaours_, etc., for the readers of

Berlin, who, it seems, read English, and have taken a caprice for mine.

Um!--have I been _German_ all this time, when I thought myself

_Oriental_?

Lent Tierney my box for to-morrow; and received a new comedy sent by

Lady C. A.--but _not hers_. I must read it, and endeavour not to

displease the author. I hate annoying them with cavil; but a comedy I

take to be the most difficult of compositions, more so than tragedy.

Galt says there is a coincidence between the first part of _The Bride_

and some story of his--whether published or not, I know not, never

having seen it. He is almost the last person on whom any one would

commit literary larceny, and I am not conscious of any _witting_ thefts

on any of the genus. As to originality, all pretensions are

ludicrous,--"there is nothing new under the sun." [3]

Went last night to the play. Invited out to a party, but did not

go;--right. Refused to go to Lady----'s on Monday;--right again. If I

must fritter away my life, I would rather do it alone. I was much

tempted;--C----looked so Turkish with her red turban, and her regular,

dark, and clear features. Not that _she_ and _I_ ever were, or could be,

any thing; but I love any aspect that reminds me of the "children of the

sun."

To dine to-day with Rogers and Sharpe, for which I have some appetite,

not having tasted food for the preceding forty-eight hours. I wish I

could leave off eating altogether.

[Footnote 1: George Granville Leveson Gower (1758-1833) succeeded his

father, in 1803, as second Marquis of Stafford. He married, in 1785,

Elizabeth, Countess of Sutherland, and was created, in 1833, first Duke

of Sutherland. Lord Carlisle had married, in 1770 Margaret Caroline,

sister of the second Marquis of Stafford.]

[Footnote 2: George Tierney (1761-1830) entered Parliament as Member for

Colchester in 1789. In 1796 he was returned for Southwark. A useful

speaker and political writer, he was Treasurer of the Navy in the

Addington administration, and President of the Board of Control in that

of "All the Talents." His drafting of the petition of the "Society of

the Friends of the People," his duel with Pitt in 1798, and his

leadership of the Opposition after 1817, are almost forgotten; but he is

remembered as the "Friend of Humanity" in 'The Needy Knife-Grinder'.]

[Footnote 3: 'Eccles'. i. 9.]

* * * * *

Saturday, December 11.

* * * * *

Sunday, December 12.

By Galt's answer, I find it is some story in _real life_, and not any

work with which my late composition coincides. It is still more

singular, for mine is drawn from _existence_ also.

I have sent an excuse to Madame de Stael. I do not feel sociable enough

for dinner to-day;--and I will not go to Sheridan's on Wednesday. Not

that I do not admire and prefer his unequalled conversation; but--that

"_but_" must only be intelligible to thoughts I cannot write. Sheridan

was in good talk at Rogers's the other night, but I only stayed till

_nine_. All the world are to be at the Stael's to-night, and I am not

sorry to escape any part of it. I only go out to get me a fresh appetite

for being alone. Went out--did not go to the Stael's but to Ld.

Holland's. Party numerous--conversation general. Stayed late--made a

blunder--got over it--came home and went to bed, not having eaten.

Rather empty, but _fresco_, which is the great point with me.

* * * * *

Monday, December 13, 1813.

Called at three places--read, and got ready to leave town to-morrow.

Murray has had a letter from his brother bibliopole of Edinburgh, who

says, "he is lucky in having such a _poet_"--something as if one was a

packhorse, or "ass, or any thing that is his;" or, like Mrs. Packwood,

[1] who replied to some inquiry after the Odes on Razors,--"Laws, sir,

we keeps a poet." The same illustrious Edinburgh bookseller once sent an

order for books, poesy, and cookery, with this agreeable

postscript--"The _Harold and Cookery_ [2] are much wanted." Such is

fame, and, after all, quite as good as any other "life in others'

breath." 'Tis much the same to divide purchasers with Hannah Glasse or

Hannah More.

Some editor of some magazine has _announced_ to Murray his intention of

abusing the thing "_without reading it_." So much the better; if he

redde it first, he would abuse it more.

Allen [3] (Lord Holland's Allen--the best informed and one of the ablest

men I know--a perfect Magliabecchi [4]--a devourer, a _Helluo_ of books,

and an observer of men,) has lent me a quantity of Burns's [5]

unpublished and never-to-be-published Letters. They are full of oaths

and obscene songs. What an antithetical mind!--tenderness,

roughness--delicacy, coarseness--sentiment, sensuality--soaring and

grovelling, dirt and deity--all mixed up in that one compound of

inspired clay!

It seems strange; a true voluptuary will never abandon his mind to the

grossness of reality. It is by exalting the earthly, the material, the

_physique_ of our pleasures, by veiling these ideas, by forgetting them

altogether, or, at least, never naming them hardly to one's self, that

we alone can prevent them from disgusting.

[Footnote 1: Mrs. Packwood is the wife of George Packwood, "the

celebrated Razor Strop Maker and Author of 'The Goldfinch's Nest',"

whose shop was at 16, Gracechurch Street. 'Packwood's Whim; The

Goldfinch's Nest, or the Way to get Money and be Happy', by George

Packwood, was published in 1796, and reached a second edition in 1807.

It is a collection of his advertisements in prose and verse. The poet,

whom Packwood kept, apparently lived in Soho (p. 21), from his verses

which appeared in the 'True Briton' for November 9, 1795:

"If you wish, Sir, to Shave--nay, pray look not grave,

Since nothing on earth can be worse,

To P--d repair, you're shaved to a hair,

Which I mean to exhibit in verse.

"When in moving the beard--I wish to be heard--

The dull razor occasions a curse,

The strop that I view will its merits renew;

Behold I record it in verse.

"Some in fashion's tontine disperse all their spleen,

And others their destinies curse;

But P--d's fine taste, with his Strops and his Paste,

Which I'll show you in Prose and in Verse.

"I have taken this plan to comment on a man,

Whose merit I'm proud to rehearse;

For a razor and knife he will sharpen for life,

And deserves every praise in my verse.

"Soho, Nov. 6, 1795."]

[Footnote 2: 'The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy', "By a Lady," was

published anonymously in 1747. The 4th edition (1751) bears the name of

H. Glasse. The book was at one time supposed to be the work of Dr. John

Hill (1716-1775), and to contain the proverb, "First catch your hare,

then cook it." But Hill's claim is untenable, and the proverb is not in

the book.

Mrs. Rundell's 'Domestic Cookery' was one of Murray's most successful

publications. In Byron's lines, "To Mr. Murray" (March 25, 1818), occurs

the following passage:

"Along thy sprucest bookshelves shine

The works thou deemest most divine--

The 'Art of Cookery,' and mine,

My Murray."]

[Footnote 3: John Allen, M.D. (1771-1843), accompanied Lord Holland to

Spain (1801-5 and 1808-9), and lived with him at Holland House. His

'Inquiry into the Rise and Growth of the Royal Prerogative in England',

his numerous articles in the 'Edinburgh Review', and his life of Fox in

the 'Encyclopedia Britannica', and many other works, justify Byron's

praise. In the social life of Holland House he was a prominent figure,

and to it, perhaps, he sacrificed his literary powers and acquirements.

He was Warden of Dulwich College (1811-20), and Master (1820-43). Allen

was the author of the article in the 'Edinburgh Review' on Payne

Knight's 'Taste', in which he severely criticized Pindar's Greek, and

which Byron, probably trusting to Hodgson (see 'Letters', vol. i. p.

196, 'note' 1), or possibly misled by similarity of sound (H. Crabb

Robinson's 'Diary', vol. i. p. 277), attributed to "classic Hallam, much

renowned for Greek" ('English Bards, etc.', line 513).]

[Footnote 4: Antonio Magliabecchi (1633-1714) was appointed, in 1673,

Librarian to the Grand-Duke of Tuscany, to whom he bequeathed his

immense collection of 30,000 volumes. In Burton's 'Book-hunter' (p. 229)

it is said that Magliabecchi

"could direct you to any book in any part of the world, with the

precision with which the metropolitan policeman directs you to St.

Paul's or Piccadilly. It is of him that the stories are told of

answers to inquiries after books, in these terms: 'There is but one

copy of that book in the world. It is in the Grand Seignior's library

at Constantinople, and is the seventh book in the second shelf on the

right hand as you go in.'"]

[Footnote 5: Byron himself was "likened to Burns," and Sir Walter Scott,

commenting on the comparison in a manuscript note, says,

"Burns, in depth of poetical feeling, in strong shrewd sense to

balance and regulate this, in the 'tact' to make his poetry tell by

connecting it with the stream of public thought and the sentiment of

the age, in 'commanded' wildness of fancy and profligacy or

recklessness as to moral and 'occasionally' as to religious matters,

was much more like Lord Byron than any other person to whom Lord B.

says he had been compared.

"A gross blunder of the English public has been talking of Burns as if

the character of his poetry ought to be estimated with an eternal

recollection that he was a 'peasant'. It would be just as proper to

say that Lord Byron ought always to be thought of as a 'Peer'. Rank in

life was nothing to either in his true moments. Then, they were both

great Poets. Some silly and sickly affectations connected with the

accidents of birth and breeding may be observed in both, when they are

not under the influence of 'the happier star.' Witness Burns's prate

about independence, when he was an exciseman, and Byron's ridiculous

pretence of Republicanism, when he never wrote sincerely about the

Multitude without expressing or insinuating the very soul of scorn."]

* * * * *

December 14, 15, 16.

Much done, but nothing to record. It is quite enough to set down my

thoughts,--my actions will rarely bear retrospection.

* * * * *

December 17, 18.

Lord Holland told me a curious piece of sentimentality in Sheridan. The

other night we were all delivering our respective and various opinions

on him and other _hommes marquans_, and mine was this:--"Whatever

Sheridan has done or chosen to do has been, _par excellence_, always the

_best_ of its kind. He has written the _best_ comedy (_School for

Scandal_), the _best_ drama (in my mind, far before that St. Giles's

lampoon, the _Beggar's Opera_), the best farce (the _Critic_--it is only

too good for a farce), and the best Address (Monologue on Garrick), and,

to crown all, delivered the very best Oration (the famous Begum Speech)

ever conceived or heard in this country." Somebody told S. this the next

day, and on hearing it he burst into tears!

Poor Brinsley! if they were tears of pleasure, I would rather have said

these few, but most sincere, words than have written the Iliad or made

his own celebrated Philippic. Nay, his own comedy never gratified me

more than to hear that he had derived a moment's gratification from any

praise of mine, humble as it must appear to "my elders and my betters."

Went to my box at Covent Garden to-night; and my delicacy felt a little

shocked at seeing S----'s mistress (who, to my certain knowledge, was

actually educated, from her birth, for her profession) sitting with her

mother, "a three-piled b----d, b----d Major to the army," in a private

box opposite. I felt rather indignant; but, casting my eyes round the

house, in the next box to me, and the next, and the next, were the most

distinguished old and young Babylonians of quality;--so I burst out a

laughing. It was really odd; Lady----_divorced_--Lady----and her

daughter, Lady----, both _divorceable_--Mrs.----, in the next the

_like_, and still nearer------! [1] What an assemblage to _me_, who

know all their histories. It was as if the house had been divided

between your public and your _understood_ courtesans;--but the

intriguantes much outnumbered the regular mercenaries. On the other side

were only Pauline and _her_ mother, and, next box to her, three of

inferior note. Now, where lay the difference between _her_ and _mamma_,

and Lady----and daughter? except that the two last may enter Carleton

and any _other house_, and the two first are limited to the opera and

b----house. How I do delight in observing life as it really is!--and

myself, after all, the worst of any. But no matter--I must avoid

egotism, which, just now, would be no vanity.

I have lately written a wild, rambling, unfinished rhapsody, called

"_The Devil's Drive_" the notion of which I took from Person's "_Devil's

Walk_." [2]

Redde some Italian, and wrote two Sonnets on----. I never wrote but one

sonnet before, and that was not in earnest, and many years ago, as an

exercise--and I will never write another. They are the most puling,

petrifying, stupidly platonic compositions. I detest the Petrarch so

much, that I would not be the man even to have obtained his Laura, which

the metaphysical, whining dotard never could.

[Footnote 1: "These names are all left blank in the original" (Moore).]

[Footnote 2: Richard Person did not write 'The Devil's Walk', which was

written by Coleridge and Southey, and published in the 'Morning Post'

for September 6, 1799, under the title of 'The Devil's Thoughts'.]

* * * * *

January 16, 1814.

To-morrow I leave town for a few days. I saw Lewis to-day, who is just

returned from Oatlands, where he has been squabbling with Mad. de Stael

about himself, Clarissa Harlowe, Mackintosh, and me. My homage has never

been paid in that quarter, or we would have agreed still worse. I don't

talk--I can't flatter, and won't listen, except to a pretty or a foolish

woman. She bored Lewis with praises of himself till he sickened--found

out that Clarissa was perfection, and Mackintosh the first man in

England. There I agree, at least _one_ of the first--but Lewis did not.

As to Clarissa, I leave to those who can read it to judge and dispute. I

could not do the one, and am, consequently, not qualified for the other.

She told Lewis wisely, he being my friend, that I was affected, in the

first place; and that, in the next place, I committed the heinous

offence of sitting at dinner with my _eyes_ shut, or half shut. I wonder

if I really have this trick. I must cure myself of it, if true. One

insensibly acquires awkward habits, which should be broken in time. If

this is one, I wish I had been told of it before. It would not so much

signify if one was always to be checkmated by a plain woman, but one may

as well see some of one's neighbours, as well as the plate upon the

table.

I should like, of all things, to have heard the Amabæan eclogue between

her and Lewis--both obstinate, clever, odd, garrulous, and shrill. In

fact, one could have heard nothing else. But they fell out, alas!--and

now they will never quarrel again. Could not one reconcile them for the

"nonce?" Poor Corinne--she will find that some of her fine sayings won't

suit our fine ladies and gentlemen.

I am getting rather into admiration of [Lady C. Annesley] the youngest

sister of [Lady F. Webster]. A wife would be my salvation. I am sure the

wives of my acquaintances have hitherto done me little good. Catherine

is beautiful, but very young, and, I think, a fool. But I have not seen

enough to judge; besides, I hate an _esprit_ in petticoats. That she

won't love me is very probable, nor shall I love her. But, on my system,

and the modern system in general, that don't signify. The business (if

it came to business) would probably be arranged between papa and me. She

would have her own way; I am good-humoured to women, and docile; and, if

I did not fall in love with her, which I should try to prevent, we

should be a very comfortable couple. As to conduct, _that_ she must look

to. But _if_ I love, I shall be jealous;--and for that reason I will not

be in love. Though, after all, I doubt my temper, and fear I should not

be so patient as becomes the _bienséance_ of a married man in my

station. Divorce ruins the poor _femme_, and damages are a paltry

compensation. I do fear my temper would lead me into some of our

oriental tricks of vengeance, or, at any rate, into a summary appeal to

the court of twelve paces. So "I'll none on't," but e'en remain single

and solitary;--though I should like to have somebody now and then to

yawn with one.

Ward, and, after him,----, has stolen one of my buffooneries about Mde.

de Stael's Metaphysics and the Fog, and passed it, by speech and letter,

as their own. As Gibbet says, "they are the most of a gentleman of any

on the road." [1] W. is in sad enmity with the Whigs about this Review

of Fox [2] (if he _did_ review him);--all the epigrammatists and

essayists are at him. I hate _odds_, and wish he may beat them. As for

me, by the blessing of indifference, I have simplified my politics into

an utter detestation of all existing governments; and, as it is the

shortest and most agreeable and summary feeling imaginable, the first

moment of an universal republic would convert me into an advocate for

single and uncontradicted despotism. The fact is, riches are power, and

poverty is slavery all over the earth, and one sort of establishment is

no better nor worse for a _people_ than another. I shall adhere to my

party, because it would not be honourable to act otherwise; but, as to

_opinions_, I don't think politics _worth_ an _opinion_. _Conduct_ is

another thing:--if you begin with a party, go on with them. I have no

consistency, except in politics; and _that_ probably arises from my

indifference on the subject altogether.

[Footnote 1: The 'Beaux' Stratagem', by George Farquhar (act iv. sc. 3):

"'Gibbet'.

"And I can assure you, friend, there's a great deal of address and

good manners in robbing a lady: I am most a gentleman that way that

ever travelled the road."]

[Footnote 2: An article by Ward on 'The Correspondence of Gilbert

Wakefield with Mr. Fox', in the 'Quarterly Review' for July, 1813.]

* * * * *

Feb. 18.

Better than a month since I last journalised:--most of it out of London

and at Notts., but a busy one and a pleasant, at least three weeks of

it. On my return, I find all the newspapers in hysterics, and town in an

uproar, on the avowal and republication of two stanzas on Princess

Charlotte's weeping at Regency's speech to Lauderdale in 1812. [1] They

are daily at it still;--some of the abuse good, all of it hearty. They

talk of a motion in our House upon it--be it so.

Got up--redde the _Morning Post_ containing the battle of Buonaparte,

[2] the destruction of the Customhouse, [3] and a paragraph on me as

long as my pedigree, and vituperative, as usual. [4]

Hobhouse is returned to England. He is my best friend, the most lively,

and a man of the most sterling talents extant.

'The Corsair' has been conceived, written, published, etc., since I last

took up this journal. They tell me it has great success;--it was written

_con amore_, and much from _existence_. Murray is satisfied with its

progress; and if the public are equally so with the perusal, there's an

end of the matter.

Nine o'clock.

Been to Hanson's on business. Saw Rogers, and had a note from Lady

Melbourne, who says, it is said I am "much out of spirits." I wonder if

I really am or not? I have certainly enough of "that perilous stuff

which weighs upon the heart," [5] and it is better they should believe

it to be the result of these attacks than of the real cause; but--ay,

ay, always _but_, to the end of the chapter.

Hobhouse has told me ten thousand anecdotes of Napoleon, all good and

true. My friend H. is the most entertaining of companions, and a fine

fellow to boot.

Redde a little--wrote notes and letters, and am alone, which Locke says

is bad company. "Be not solitary, be not idle." [6]--Um!--the idleness

is troublesome; but I can't see so much to regret in the solitude. The

more I see of men, the less I like them. If I could but say so of women

too, all would be well. Why can't I? I am now six-and-twenty; my

passions have had enough to cool them; my affections more than enough to

wither them,--and yet--and yet--always _yet_ and _but_--"Excellent well,

you are a fishmonger--get thee to a nunnery." [7]--"They fool me to the

top of my bent." [8]

Midnight.

Began a letter, which I threw into the fire. Redde--but to little

purpose. Did not visit Hobhouse, as I promised and ought. No matter, the

loss is mine. Smoked cigars.

Napoleon!--this week will decide his fate. All seems against him; but I

believe and hope he will win--at least, beat back the invaders. What

right have we to prescribe sovereigns to France? Oh for a Republic!

"Brutus, thou sleepest." [9] Hobhouse abounds in continental anecdotes

of this extraordinary man; all in favour of his intellect and courage,

but against his _bonhommie_. No wonder;--how should he, who knows

mankind well, do other than despise and abhor them?

The greater the equality, the more impartially evil is distributed, and

becomes lighter by the division among so many--therefore, a Republic!

[10]

More notes from Madame de Stael unanswered--and so they shall remain.

[11] I admire her abilities, but really her society is overwhelming--an

avalanche that buries one in glittering nonsense--all snow and

sophistry.

Shall I go to Mackintosh's on Tuesday? um!--I did not go to Marquis

Lansdowne's nor to Miss Berry's, though both are pleasant. So is Sir

James's,--but I don't know--I believe one is not the better for parties;

at least, unless some _regnante_ is there.

I wonder how the deuce any body could make such a world; for what

purpose dandies, for instance, were ordained--and kings--and fellows of

colleges--and women of "a certain age"--and many men of any age--and

myself, most of all!

"Divesne prisco natus ab Inacho

Nil interest, an pauper et infimâ

De gente, sub dio ('sic') moreris,

Victima nil miserantis Orci.

Omnes eodem cogimur," etc. [12]

Is there any thing beyond?--_who_ knows? _He_ that can't tell. Who tells

that there _is_? He who don't know. And when shall he know? perhaps,

when he don't expect, and generally when he don't wish it. In this last

respect, however, all are not alike: it depends a good deal upon

education,--something upon nerves and habits--but most upon digestion.

[Footnote 1: See p. 134, 'note' 2 [Footnote 3 of Letter 241], and

Appendix VII.]

[Footnote 2: The battle of Brienne was fought February 1, 1814.]

[Footnote 3: By fire, on the 12th of February.]

[Footnote 4:

"We are informed from very good authority, that as soon as the House

of Lords meet again, a Peer of very independent principles and

character intends to give notice of a motion occasioned by a late

spontaneous avowal of a copy of verses by Lord Byron, addressed to the

Princess Charlotte of Wales, in which he has taken the most

unwarrantable liberties with her august father's character and

conduct: this motion being of a personal nature, it will be necessary

to give the noble Satirist some days' notice, that he may prepare

himself for his defence against a charge of so aggravated a nature,"

etc.

'Morning Post', February 18.]

[Footnote 5: 'Macbeth', act v. sc. 3.]

[Footnote 6: These words close the penultimate paragraph of Burton's

'Anatomy of Melancholy'.]

[Footnote 7: 'Hamlet', act ii. sc. 2, and act iii. sc. 1.]

[Footnote 8: 'Ibid'., sc. 2.]

[Footnote 9:

"Brutus, thou sleepest, awake."

'Julius Cæsar', act ii. sc. 1.]

[Footnote 10: The following extract from 'Detached Thoughts' (1821)

implies that this expression of opinion was no passing thought (but see

Scott's note, p. 376 [Footnote 5 of Journal entry for December 13th,

1813]):

"There is nothing left for Mankind but a Republic, and I think that

there are hopes of such. The two Americas (South and North) have it;

Spain and Portugal approach it; all thirst for it. Oh Washington!"]

[Footnote 11: Here is one of Madame de Staël's notes:

"Je renonce à vos visites, pourvu que vous acceptiez mes diners, car

enfin à quoi servirait il de vivre dans le même tems que vous, si

l'on ne vous voyait pas? Dinez chez moi dimanche avec vos amis,--je ne

dirai pas vos admirateurs, car je n'ai rencontré que cela de touts

parts.

"A dimanche,

"DE STAËL.

"Mardi.

"Je prends le silence pour oui."]

[Footnote 12: Horace, 'Odes', II. iii. 21, 'et seqq.']

* * * * *

Saturday, Feb. 19.

Just returned from seeing Kean [1] in Richard. By Jove, he is a soul!

Life--nature--truth without exaggeration or diminution. Kemble's Hamlet

is perfect;--but Hamlet is not Nature. Richard is a man; and Kean is

Richard. Now to my own concerns.

Went to Waite's. Teeth are all right and white; but he says that I grind

them in my sleep and chip the edges. That same sleep is no friend of

mine, though I court him sometimes for half the twenty-four.

[Footnote 1: Edmund Kean (1787-1833), after acting in provincial

theatres, appeared at the Haymarket in June, 1806, as "Ganem" in 'The

Mountaineers', but again returned to the country. His performance of

"Shylock" in the 'Merchant of Venice', at Drury Lane, on January 26,

1814, made him famous. He appeared in "Richard III" on February 12, and

still further increased his reputation.

In the 'Courier', February 26, 1814, appears this paragraph:

"Mr. Kean's attraction is unprecedented in the annals of

theatricals--even Cooke's performances are left at an immeasurable

distance; his first three nights of 'Richard' produced upwards of

£1800, and on repeating that character on Thursday night for the

fourthth ('sic') time, the receipts were upwards of £700."

On March 1 the same paper says,

"Drury Lane Theatre again overflowed last night, at an early hour.

Such is the continued and increasing attraction of that truly great

actor Mr. Kean."

After the retirement of John Kemble (June 23, 1817), he had no rival on

the stage, especially in such parts as "Othello," "Lear," "Hamlet," "Sir

Giles Overreach," and the two already mentioned. His last appearance on

the stage was in "Othello" at Covent Garden, March 25, 1833.

"To see Kean act," said Coleridge, "is like reading Shakespeare by

flashes of lightning."

"Garrick's nature," writes Leigh Hunt, in the 'Tatler', July 25, 1831,

"displaced Quin's formalism; and in precisely the same way did Kean

displace Kemble. ... Everything with Kemble was literally a

'personation'--it was a mask and a sounding-pipe. It was all external

and artificial.... Kean's face is full of light and shade, his tones

vary, his voice trembles, his eye glistens, sometimes with a withering

scorn, sometimes with a tear."

It was the realism and nature of Kean which so strongly appealed to

Byron, and enabled the actor, to the last, in spite of his drunken

habits, poor figure, and weak voice, to sway his audiences. The same

qualities at first repelled more timid critics, and perhaps justified

Hazlitt's saying that Kean was "not much relished in the upper circles."

Miss Berry, for example, who saw him in all his principal parts in

1814--in "Richard III," "Hamlet," "Othello," and "Sir Giles

Overreach"--remained cold.

"His 'Richard III.' pleased me, but I was not enthusiastic. His

expression of the passions is natural and strong, but I do not like

his declamation; his voice, naturally not agreeable, becomes

monotonous"

('Diary', vol. iii. p. 7). Of his "Hamlet" she says,

"To my mind he is without grace and without elevation of mind, because

he never seems to rise with the poet in those sublime passages which

abound in 'Hamlet'"

('ibid.', p. 9). Miss Berry's criticism is supported by good authority.

Lewes ('On Actors and the Art of Acting', pp. 6, 11), while calling him

"a consummate master of passionate expression," denies his capacity for

representing "the intellectual side of heroism."

Kean preferred the Coal-Hole Tavern in the Strand, and the society of

the Wolf Club, to Lord Holland's dinner-parties. Though he never fell so

low as Cooke, his recklessness, irregularities, eccentricities, and

habits of drinking, in spite of the large sums of money that passed

through his hands, made his closing days neither prosperous nor

reputable.

Such effect had the passionate energy of Kean's acting on Byron's mind,

that, once, in seeing him play "Sir Giles Overreach," he was so affected

as to be seized with a sort of convulsive fit. Some years later, in

Italy, when the representation of Alfieri's tragedy of 'Mirra' had

agitated him in the same violent manner, he compared the two instances

as the only ones in his life when "any thing under reality" had been

able to move him so powerfully.

"To such lengths," says Moore, "did he, at this time, carry his

enthusiasm for Kean, that when Miss O'Neil appeared, and, by her

matchless representation of feminine tenderness, attracted all eyes

and hearts, he was not only a little jealous of her reputation, as

interfering with that of his favourite, but, in order to guard himself

against the risk of becoming a convert, refused to go to see her act.

I endeavoured sometimes to persuade him into witnessing, at least, one

of her performances; but his answer was (punning upon Shakspeare's

word, 'unanealed'), 'No--I am resolved to continue 'un-Oneiled'.'

"

In his 'Detached Thoughts' (1821) Byron says,

"Of actors Cooke was the most natural, Kemble the most supernatural,

Kean the medium between the two. But Mrs. Siddons was worth them all

put together."]

* * * * *

February 20.

Got up and tore out two leaves of this Journal--I don't know why.

Hodgson just called and gone. He has much _bonhommie_ with his other

good qualities, and more talent than he has yet had credit for beyond

his circle.

An invitation to dine at Holland House to meet Kean. He is worth

meeting; and I hope, by getting into good society, he will be prevented

from falling like Cooke. He is greater now on the stage, and off he

should never be less. There is a stupid and underrating criticism upon

him in one of the newspapers. I thought that, last night, though great,

he rather under-acted more than the first time. This may be the effect

of these cavils; but I hope he has more sense than to mind them. He

cannot expect to maintain his present eminence, or to advance still

higher, without the envy of his green-room fellows, and the nibbling of

their admirers. But, if he don't beat them all, why then--merit hath no

purchase in "these coster-monger days." [1]

I wish that I had a talent for the drama; I would write a tragedy _now_.

But no,--it is gone. Hodgson talks of one,--he will do it well;--and I

think M---e [Moore] should try. He has wonderful powers, and much

variety; besides, he has lived and felt. To write so as to bring home to

the heart, the heart must have been tried,--but, perhaps, ceased to be

so. While you are under the influence of passions, you only feel, but

cannot describe them,--any more than, when in action, you could turn

round and tell the story to your next neighbour! When all is over,--all,

all, and irrevocable,--trust to memory--she is then but too faithful.

Went out, and answered some letters, yawned now and then, and redde the

'Robbers'. Fine,--but 'Fiesco' is better [2]; and Alfieri, and Monti's

'Aristodemo' [3] _best_. They are more equal than the Tedeschi

dramatists.

Answered--or rather acknowledged--the receipt of young Reynolds's [4]

poem, _Safie_. The lad is clever, but much of his thoughts are

borrowed,--whence, the Reviewers may find out. I hate discouraging a

young one; and I think,--though wild and more oriental than he would be,

had he seen the scenes where he has placed his tale,--that he has much

talent, and, certainly fire enough.

Received a very singular epistle; and the mode of its conveyance,

through Lord H.'s hands, as curious as the letter itself. But it was

gratifying and pretty.

[Footnote 1: 'Henry IV.', Part II. act i. sc. 2.]

[Footnote 2: Schiller's 'Robbers' was first produced at Mannheim,

January 13, 1782; his 'Fiesco' was published in 1783. The 'Robbers' is

included in Benjamin Thompson's 'German Theatre' (1801). 'Fiesco' was

translated by G. H. Noehden and John Stoddart in 1798.]

[Footnote 3: Monti's three tragedies, 'Caio Gracco', 'Aristodemo', and

'Manfredi', were written in rivalry of Alfieri's tragedies between the

years 1788 and 1799.]

[Footnote 4: For John Hamilton Reynolds, see 'Letters', vol. iii.

(February 20, 1814, 'note' 1).]

* * * * *

Sunday, February 27.

Here I am, alone, instead of dining at Lord H.'s, where I was

asked,--but not inclined to go any where. Hobhouse says I am growing a

_loup garou_,--a solitary hobgoblin. True;--"I am myself alone." [1]

The last week has been passed in reading--seeing plays--now and then

visitors--sometimes yawning and sometimes sighing, but no writing,--save

of letters. If I could always read, I should never feel the want of

society. Do I regret it?--um!--"Man delights not me," [2] and only one

woman--at a time.

There is something to me very softening in the presence of a

woman,--some strange influence, even if one is not in love with

them--which I cannot at all account for, having no very high opinion of

the sex. But yet,--I always feel in better humour with myself and every

thing else, if there is a woman within ken. Even Mrs. Mule [3], my

firelighter,--the most ancient and withered of her kind,--and (except to

myself) not the best-tempered--always makes me laugh,--no difficult task

when I am "i' the vein."

Heigho! I would I were in mine island!--I am not well; and yet I look in

good health. At times, I fear, "I am not in my perfect mind;" [4]--and

yet my heart and head have stood many a crash, and what should ail them

now? They prey upon themselves, and I am sick--sick--"Prithee, undo

this button--why should a cat, a rat, a dog have life--and thou no life

at all?" [5]

Six-and-twenty years, as they call them, why, I might and should have

been a Pasha by this time. "I 'gin to be a-weary of the sun." [6]

Buonaparte is not yet beaten; but has rebutted Blucher, and repiqued

Schwartzenburg [7]. This it is to have a head. If he again wins, _Væ

victis!_

[Footnote 1:

"I am myself alone."

'Henry VI.', Part III. act v. sc. 6.]

[Footnote 2: 'Hamlet', act ii. sc. 2.]

[Footnote 3:

"This ancient housemaid, of whose gaunt and witch-like appearance it

would be impossible to convey any idea but by the pencil, furnished

one among the numerous instances of Lord Byron's proneness to attach

himself to any thing, however homely, that had once enlisted his good

nature in its behalf, and become associated with his thoughts. He

first found this old woman at his lodgings in Bennet Street, where,

for a whole season, she was the perpetual scarecrow of his visitors.

When, next year, he took chambers in Albany, one of the great

advantages which his friends looked to in the change was, that they

should get rid of this phantom. But, no,--there she was again--he had

actually brought her with him from Bennet Street. The following year

saw him married, and, with a regular establishment of servants, in

Piccadilly; and here,--as Mrs. Mule had not made her appearance to any

of the visitors,--it was concluded, rashly, that the witch had

vanished. One of those friends, however, who had most fondly indulged

in this persuasion, happening to call one day when all the male part

of the establishment were abroad, saw, to his dismay, the door opened

by the same grim personage, improved considerably in point of

babiliments since he last saw her, and keeping pace with the increased

scale of her master's household, as a new peruke, and other symptoms

of promotion, testified. When asked 'how he came to carry this old

woman about with him from place to place,' Lord Byron's only answer

was, 'The poor old devil was so kind to me'". (Moore).]

[Footnote 4: 'King Lear', act iv. sc. 7.]

[Footnote 5:

"Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life,

And thou no breath at all?"

'King Lear', act v. sc. 3.]

[Footnote 6:

"I 'gin to be a-weary of the sun,

And wish the estate of the world were now undone."

'Macbeth', act v. sc. 5.]

[Footnote 7: Napoleon fought the battle of Nangis against Blucher on the

17th of February, 1814, and that of Montereau against Prince

Schwartzenberg on the following day.]

* * * * *

Sunday, March 6.

On Tuesday last dined with Rogers,--Madame de Staël, Mackintosh,

Sheridan, Erskine [1], and Payne Knight, Lady Donegal, and Miss R.

there. Sheridan told a very good story of himself and Madame de

Recamier's handkerchief; Erskine a few stories of himself only. _She_ is

going to write a big book about England, she says;--I believe her. Asked

by her how I liked Miss Edgeworth's thing, called _Patronage_ [2], and

answered (very sincerely) that I thought it very bad for _her_, and

worse than any of the others. Afterwards thought it possible Lady

Donegal [3], being Irish, might be a patroness of Miss Edgeworth, and

was rather sorry for my opinion, as I hate putting people into fusses,

either with themselves or their favourites; it looks as if one did it on

purpose. The party went off very well, and the fish was very much to my

gusto. But we got up too soon after the women; and Mrs. Corinne always

lingers so long after dinner that we wish her in--the drawing-room.

To-day Campbell called, and while sitting here in came Merivale [4].

During our colloquy, C. (ignorant that Merivale was the writer) abused

the "mawkishness of the _Quarterly Review_ of Grimm's _Correspondence_."

I (knowing the secret) changed the conversation as soon as I could; and

C. went away, quite convinced of having made the most favourable

impression on his new acquaintance. Merivale is luckily a very

good-natured fellow, or God he knows what might have been engendered

from such a malaprop. I did not look at him while this was going on, but

I felt like a coal--for I like Merivale, as well as the article in

question.

Asked to Lady Keith's [5] to-morrow evening--I think I will go; but it

is the first party invitation I have accepted this "season," as the

learned Fletcher called it, when that youngest brat of Lady----'s cut

my eye and cheek open with a misdirected pebble--"Never mind, my Lord,

the scar will be gone before the _season_;" as if one's eye was of no

importance in the mean time.

Lord Erskine called, and gave me his famous pamphlet, with a marginal

note and corrections in his handwriting. Sent it to be bound superbly,

and shall treasure it.

Sent my fine print of Napoleon [6] to be framed. It _is_ framed; and the

Emperor becomes his robes as if he had been hatched in them.

[Footnote 1: Thomas, Lord Erskine (1750-1823), youngest son of the tenth

Earl of Buchan, a midshipman in the Royal Navy (1764-67), an ensign, and

subsequently a lieutenant in the First Foot (1767-75), was called to the

Bar in 1778, and became Lord Chancellor in 1806. As an advocate he was

unrivalled.

"Even the great luminaries of the law," says Wraxall ('Posthumous

Memoirs', vol. i. p. 86), "when arrayed in their ermine, bent under his

ascendancy, and seemed to be half subdued by his intelligence, or awed

by his vehemence, pertinacity, and undaunted character."

With a jury he was particularly successful, though he lived to write the

lines quoted by Lord Campbell ('Lives of the Chancellors', ed. 1868,

vol. viii. p. 233):

"The monarch's pale face was with blushes suffused,

To observe right and wrong by twelve villains confused,

And, kicking their----s all round in a fury,

Cried, ''Curs'd be the day I invented a jury!''"

A Whig in politics, and in sympathy with the doctrines of the French

Revolution, he defended Paine, Frost, Hardy, and other political

offenders, and did memorable service to the cause of constitutional

liberty. In the House of Commons, which he entered as M. P. for

Portsmouth in 1783, he was a failure; his maiden speech on Fox's India

Bill fell flat, and he was crushed by Pitt's contempt. As Lord

Chancellor (1806-7) he proved a better judge than was expected. At the

time when Byron made his acquaintance, he had practically retired from

public life, and devoted himself to literature, society, and farming,

writing on the services of rooks, and attending the Holkham

sheep-shearings. Lord Campbell has collected many of his verses and

jokes in vol. ix. chap. cxc. of his 'Lives of the Chancellors'. His

famous pamphlet, 'On the Causes and Consequences of the War with France'

(1797), was written, as he told Miss Berry ('Journal of Miss Berry',

vol. ii. p. 340),

"on slips of paper in the midst of all the business which I was

engaged in at the time--not at home, but in open court, whilst the

causes were trying. When it was not my turn to examine a witness, or

to speak to the Jury, I wrote a little bit; and so on by snatches."

His 'Armata' was published by Murray in 1817. In society Erskine was

widely known for his brilliancy, his puns, and his extraordinary vanity.

His egotism gained him such titles as Counsellor Ego, Baron Ego of Eye,

and supplied Mathias ('Pursuits of Literature') with an illustration:

"A vain, pert prater, bred in Erskine's school."]

[Footnote 2: Miss Edgeworth's 'Patronage' was published in 1813-4. In

1813 she had been in London with her father and stepmother. The

following entries respecting the family are taken from Byron's 'Detached

Thoughts':

"Old Edgeworth, the fourth or fifth Mrs. Edgeworth, and 'the' Miss

Edgeworth were in London, 1813. Miss Edgeworth liked, Mrs. Edgeworth

not disliked, old Edgeworth a bore, the worst of bores--a boisterous

Bore. I met them in Society--once at a breakfast of Sir H.D.'s. Old

Edgeworth came in late, boasting that he had given 'Dr. Parr a

dressing the night before' (no such easy matter by the way). I thought

her pleasant. They all abused Anna Seward's memory. When on the road

they heard of her brother's--and his son's--death. What was to be

done? Their 'London' apparel was all ordered and made! so they sunk

his death for the six weeks of their sojourn, and went into mourning

on their way back to Ireland. 'Fact!'

"While the Colony were in London, there was a book with a subscription

for the 'recall of Mrs. Siddons to the Stage' going about for

signatures. Moore moved for a similar subscription for the 'recall of

'Mr. Edgeworth to Ireland!''

"Sir Humphry Davy told me that the scene of the French Valet and Irish

postboy in 'Ennui' was taken from his verbal description to the

Edgeworths in Edgeworthtown of a similar fact on the road occurring to

himself. So much the better--being 'life'."]

[Footnote 3: The Marquis of Donegal married, in 1795, Anna, daughter of

Sir Edward May, Bart.]

[Footnote 4: For J. H. Merivale, see 'Letters', vol. iii. (January,

1814. 'note' 1).]

[Footnote 5: Hester Maria, eldest daughter and co-heir of Henry Thrale,

of Streatham, the friend of Dr. Johnson, married, in 1808, Viscount

Keith.]

[Footnote 6: Byron's "Portrait of Bonaparte, engraved by Morghen, _very

fine impression, in a gilt frame_," was sold at his sale, April 5,

1816.]

* * * * *

March 7.

Rose at seven--ready by half-past eight--went to Mr. Hanson's,

Bloomsbury Square--went to church with his eldest daughter, Mary Anne (a

good girl), and gave her away to the Earl of Portsmouth. [1] Saw her

fairly a countess--congratulated the family and groom (bride)--drank a

bumper of wine (wholesome sherris) to their felicity, and all that--and

came home. Asked to stay to dinner, but could not. At three sat to

Phillips for faces. Called on Lady M. [Melbourne]--I like her so well,

that I always stay too long. (Mem. to mend of that.)

Passed the evening with Hobhouse, who has begun a poem, which promises

highly;--wish he would go on with it. Heard some curious extracts from a

life of Morosini, [2] the blundering Venetian, who blew up the Acropolis

at Athens with a bomb, and be damned to him! Waxed sleepy--just come

home--must go to bed, and am engaged to meet Sheridan to-morrow at

Rogers's.

Queer ceremony that same of marriage--saw many abroad, Greek and

Catholic--one, at _home_, many years ago. There be some strange phrases

in the prologue (the exhortation), which made me turn away, not to laugh

in the face of the surpliceman. Made one blunder, when I joined the

hands of the happy--rammed their left hands, by mistake, into one

another. Corrected it--bustled back to the altar-rail, and said "Amen."

Portsmouth responded as if he had got the whole by heart; and, if any

thing, was rather before the priest. It is now midnight and----.

[Footnote 1: Lord Portsmouth (see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 9, 'note' 2

[Footnote 3 of Letter 3]), who had long known the Hansons, from whose

house he married his first wife, married, March 7, 1814, Mary Anne,

eldest daughter of John Hanson. A commission of lunacy was taken out by

the brother and next heir, the Hon. Newton Fellowes; but Lord Chancellor

Eldon decided that Lord Portsmouth was capable of entering into the

marriage contract and managing his own affairs. The commission was,

however, ultimately granted. Byron swore an affidavit on the first

occasion.

"Denman mentioned Lord Byron's affidavit about Lord Portsmouth as a

proof of the influence of Hanson over him; Lord B. swearing that Lord

P. had 'rather a 'superior' mind than otherwise'"

('Memoirs, etc., of Thomas Moore', vol. vi. p. 47).

The following is the note which Byron sent Hanson to embody in

his affidavit:

"I have been acquainted with Mr. Hanson and his family for many years.

He is my solicitor. About the beginning of March last he sent to me to

ask my opinion on the subject of Lord Portsmouth, who, as I understood

from Mr. H., was paying great attention to his eldest daughter. He

stated to me that Mr. Newton Fellowes (with whom I have no personal

acquaintance) was particularly desirous that Lord Portsmouth should

marry some 'elderly woman' of his (Mr. Fellowes's) selection--that the

title and family estates might thereby devolve on Mr. F. or his

children; but that Lord P. had expressed a dislike to old women, and a

desire to choose for himself. I told Mr. Hanson that, if Miss Hanson's

affections were not pre-engaged, and Lord Portsmouth appeared attached

to her, there could be, in my opinion, no objection to the match. I

think, but cannot be positive, that I saw Lord Portsmouth at Mr.

Hanson's two or three times previous to the marriage; but I had no

conversation with him upon it.

"The night before the ceremony, I received an invitation from Mr.

Hanson, requesting me, as a friend of the family, to be present at the

marriage, which was to take place next morning. I went next morning to

Bloomsbury Square, where I found the parties. Lady Portsmouth, with

her brother and sister and another gentleman, went in the carriage to

St. George's Church; Lord Portsmouth and myself walked, as the

carriage was full, and the distance short. On my way Lord Portsmouth

told me that he had been partial to Miss Hanson from her childhood,

and that, since she grew up, and more particularly subsequent to the

decease of the late Lady P., this partiality had become attachment,

and that he thought her calculated to make him an excellent wife. I

was present at the ceremony and gave away the bride. Lord Portsmouth's

behaviour seemed to me perfectly calm and rational on the occasion. He

seemed particularly attentive to the priest, and gave the responses

audibly and very distinctly. I remarked this because, in ordinary

conversation, his Lordship has a hesitation in his speech. After the

ceremony, we returned to Mr. Hanson's, whence, I believe, they went

into the country--where I did not accompany them. Since their return I

have occasionally seen Lord and Lady Portsmouth in Bloomsbury Square.

They appeared very happy. I have never been very intimate with his

Lordship, and am therefore unqualified to give a decided opinion of

his general conduct. But had I considered him insane, I should have

advised Mr. Hanson, when he consulted me on the subject, not to permit

the marriage. His preference of a young woman to an old one, and of

his own wishes to those of a younger brother, seemed to me neither

irrational nor extraordinary."

There is nothing in the note itself, or in the draft affidavit, to bear

out Moore's report of Denman's statement.

Byron, according to the account given by Newton Hanson, is wrong in

saying that Mrs. Hanson approved of the marriage. On the contrary, it

was the cause of her death, a fortnight later. In 1828 the marriage was

annulled, a jury having decided that Lord Portsmouth was 'non compos

mentis' when he contracted it.]

[Footnote 2: Francesco Morosini (1618-1694) occupied the Morea for

Venice (1687), besieged Athens, and bombarded the Parthenon, which had

been made a powder-magazine. He became Doge of Venice in 1688.]

* * * * *

March 10, Thor's Day.

On Tuesday dined with Rogers,--Mackintosh, Sheridan, Sharpe,--much talk,

and good,--all, except my own little prattlement. Much of old

times--Horne Tooke--the Trials--evidence of Sheridan, and anecdotes of

those times, when _I_, alas! was an infant. If I had been a man, I would

have made an English Lord Edward Fitzgerald.

Set down Sheridan at Brookes's,--where, by the by, he could not have

well set down himself, as he and I were the only drinkers. Sherry means

to stand for Westminster, as Cochrane [1] (the stock-jobbing hoaxer)

must vacate. Brougham [2] is a candidate. I fear for poor dear Sherry.

Both have talents of the highest order, but the youngster has _yet_ a

character. We shall see, if he lives to Sherry's age, how he will pass

over the redhot plough-shares of public life. I don't know why, but I

hate to see the _old_ ones lose; particularly Sheridan, notwithstanding

all his _méchanceté_.

Received many, and the kindest, thanks from Lady Portsmouth, _père_ and

_mère_, for my match-making. I don't regret it, as she looks the

countess well, and is a very good girl. It is odd how well she carries

her new honours. She looks a different woman, and high-bred, too. I had

no idea that I could make so good a peeress.

Went to the play with Hobhouse. Mrs. Jordan superlative in Hoyden, [3]

and Jones well enough in Foppington. _What plays_! what wit!--_hélas_!

Congreve and Vanbrugh are your only comedy. Our society is too insipid

now for the like copy. Would _not_ go to Lady Keith's. Hobhouse thought

it odd. I wonder _he_ should like parties. If one is in love, and wants

to break a commandment and covet any thing that is there, they do very

well. But to go out amongst the mere herd, without a motive, pleasure,

or pursuit--'sdeath! "I'll none of it." He told me an odd report,--that

_I_ am the actual Conrad, the veritable Corsair, and that part of my

travels are supposed to have passed in privacy. Um!--people sometimes

hit near the truth; but never the whole truth. H. don't know what I was

about the year after he left the Levant; nor does any one--nor--

--nor--nor--however, it is a lie--but, "I doubt the equivocation of the

fiend that lies like truth!" [4]

I shall have letters of importance to-morrow. Which,----,----, or

----? heigho!------is in my heart,----in my head,----in my eye,

and the _single_ one, Heaven knows where. All write, and will be

answered. "Since I have crept in favour with myself, I must maintain

it;" [5] but I never "mistook my person," [6] though I think others

have.

----called to-day in great despair about his mistress, who has taken a

freak of----. He began a letter to her, but was obliged to stop

short--I finished it for him, and he copied and sent it. If _he_ holds

out, and keeps to my instructions of affected indifference, she will

lower her colours. If she don't, he will, at least, get rid of her, and

she don't seem much worth keeping. But the poor lad is in love--if that

is the case, she will win. When they once discover their power, _finita

è la musica_.

Sleepy, and must go to bed.

[Footnote 1: Thomas, Lord Cochrane (1775-1860), eldest son of the ninth

Earl of Dundonald, a captain in the Royal Navy, and M. P. for

Westminster, had done brilliant service in his successive commands--the

'Speedy', 'Pallas', 'Impérieuse', and the flotilla of fire-ships at

Basque Roads in 1809. In the House of Commons he had been a strong

opponent of the Government, an advocate of Parliamentary Reform, and a

vigorous critic of naval administration. In February, 1814, he had been

appointed to the 'Tonnant' for the American Station, and it was while he

was on a week's leave of absence in London, before sailing, that the

stock-jobbing hoax occurred.

During the days February 8-26, 1814, it seemed possible that Napoleon

might defeat the Allied Armies, and the Funds were sensitive to every

rumour. At midnight on Sunday, February 20, a man calling himself Du

Bourg brought news to Admiral Foley, at Dover, that Napoleon had been

killed by a party of Cossacks. Hurrying towards London, Du Bourg, whose

real name was Berenger, spread the news as he went. Arrived in London

soon after daybreak, he went to Cochrane's house, and there changed his

uniform. When the Stock Exchange opened at ten on February 21, 1814, the

Funds rose rapidly, and among those who sold on the rise was Cochrane.

The next day, when the swindle had been discovered, the Stocks fell.

A Stock Exchange Committee sat to investigate the case, and their report

(March 7) threw grave suspicion on Cochrane. He, his uncle, Cochrane

Johnstone, a Mr. Butt, and Berenger, were indicted for a conspiracy,

tried before Lord Ellenborough, June 8-9, and convicted. Cochrane was

sentenced to a year's imprisonment and a fine of £1000. On the back of

the note for £1000 (still kept in the Bank of England) with which he

paid his fine on July 3, 1815, he wrote:

"My health having suffered by long and close confinement, and my

oppressors being resolved to deprive me of property or life, I submit

to robbery to protect myself from murder, in the hope that I shall

live to bring the delinquents to justice."

Cochrane was also expelled from the House of Commons and from the Order

of the Bath. There is little doubt that the circumstances were extremely

suspicious. Those who wish to form an opinion as to Cochrane's guilt or

innocence will find the subject of the trial exhaustively treated in Mr.

J.B. Atlay's 'Lord Cochrane's Trial before Lord Ellenborough' (1897).]

[Footnote 2: Henry, Lord Brougham (1778-1868) acknowledged that he wrote

the famous article on Byron's 'Hours of Idleness' in the 'Edinburgh

Review' (Sir M.E. Grant-Duff's 'Notes from a Diary', vol. ii. p. 189).

He lost his seat for Camelford in September, 1812, and did not re-enter

the House till July, 1815, when he sat for Winchelsea. In the postscript

of a letter written by him to Douglas Kinnaird, December 9, 1814, he

speaks of Byron thus:

"Your friend, Lord B., is, in my opinion, a singularly agreeable

person, which is very rarely the case with eminent men. His

independent principles give him a great additional charm."

But the part which Brougham played in the separation, both as counsel

and in society, infuriated Byron, who wrote of him in his letters with

the utmost bitterness. (See also the passage, now for the first time

published, from Byron's 'Detached Thoughts', on his Parliamentary

experiences, p. 198, first paragraph of 'note'. [2md paragraph of

Footnote 1 of Letter 285])]

[Footnote 3: Dorothy Jordan (1762-1816) first appeared as "Phoebe" in

'As You Like It' at the Crow Street Theatre, Dublin, in 1777. After

acting in provincial theatres, she made her 'début' on the London stage

at Drury Lane (October 18, 1785) as "Peggy" in Garrick's 'Country Girl',

an expurgated version of Wycherley's 'Country Wife'. During the season

she appeared also in six of her best parts: "Miss Hoyden" in 'The Trip

to Scarborough', "Priscilla Tomboy" in 'The Romp', "Hypolita" in 'She

would and she would not', "Mrs. Brady" in 'The Irish Widow', "Viola" in

'Twelfth Night', and "Rosalind" in 'As You Like It'. Her last

appearance on the London stage was as "Lady Teazle" in 'The School for

Scandal', at Covent Garden, June 1, 1814. A list of her principal

characters is given by Genest ('English Stage', vol. viii. pp. 432-434).

As a comic actress, Mrs. Jordan was unrivalled; her voice was perfect;

and her natural gaiety irresistible. Sir Joshua Reynolds preferred her

to all other actresses as a being "who ran upon the stage as a

playground, and laughed from sincere wildness of delight." In genteel

comedy, critics like Genest ('English Stage', vol. viii. p. 431) and

Leigh Hunt ('Dramatic Essays', ed. 1894, p. 82) agree that she failed,

perhaps, as the latter suggests, because she was so "perpetually

employed" in "broad and romping characters."

In private life Mrs. Jordan was chiefly known as the mistress of the

Duke of Clarence, to whom she bore ten children. She died at St. Cloud,

July 3, 1816.

The play acted at Covent Garden, March 10, 1814, was Sheridan's 'Trip to

Scarborough', which is a close adaptation of Vanbrugh's 'Relapse'. The

performance is thus described in the 'Courier', March 11, 1814:

"Mrs. Jordan, the only 'Miss Hoyden' on the stage, supported that

character with unabated spirit. In every scene, from her soliloquy on

being locked up, which was delivered with extraordinary 'naïveté',

both with reference to her tones, her emphasis, and her action, until

the consummation of the piece, the house was shaken by loud and

quick-succeeding peals of laughter. The style in which she expressed

'Hoyden's' rustic arithmetic, 'Now, 'Nursey', if he gives me 'six

hundred pounds' a-year to buy 'pins', what will he give me to buy

petticoats?' was uncommonly fine. The frock waving in her hand, the

backward bound of two or three steps, the gravity of countenance,

induced by a mental glance at the magnitude of the sum, all spoke

expectation, delight, and astonishment."]

[Footnote 4: 'Macbeth', act v. sc. 5.]

[Footnote 5: 'Richard III', act i. sc. 2, line 259.]

[Footnote 6: 'Ibid.', line 253.]

* * * * *

Tuesday, March 15.

Dined yesterday with Rogers, Mackintosh, and Sharpe. Sheridan could not

come. Sharpe told several very amusing anecdotes of Henderson, the

actor. [1] Stayed till late, and came home, having drunk so much _tea_,

that I did not get to sleep till six this morning. R. says I am to be in

_this Quarterly_--cut up, I presume, as they "hate us youth." [2]

_N'importe_. As Sharpe was passing by the doors of some debating society

(the Westminster Forum), in his way to dinner, he saw rubricked on the

wall _Scott's_ name and _mine_--"Which the best poet?" being the

question of the evening; and I suppose all the Templars and _would-bes_

took our rhymes in vain in the course of the controversy. Which had the

greater show of hands, I neither know nor care; but I feel the coupling

of the names as a compliment--though I think Scott deserves better

company.

Wedderburn Webster called--Lord Erskine, Lord Holland, etc., etc. Wrote

to----_The Corsair_ report. She says she don't wonder, since "Conrad

is so _like_." It is odd that one, who knows me so thoroughly, should

tell me this to my face. However, if she don't know, nobody can.

Mackintosh is, it seems, the writer of the defensive letter in the

_Morning Chronicle_. If so, it is very kind, and more than I did for

myself.

Told Murray to secure for me Bandello's Italian Novels [3] at the sale

to-morrow. To me they will be _nuts_. Redde a satire on myself, called

"Anti-Byron," and told Murray to publish it if he liked. The object of

the author is to prove me an atheist and a systematic conspirator

against law and government. Some of the verse is good; the prose I don't

quite understand. He asserts that my "deleterious works" have had "an

effect upon civil society, which requires," etc., etc., etc., and his

own poetry. It is a lengthy poem, and a long preface, with an harmonious

title-page. Like the fly in the fable, I seem to have got upon a wheel

which makes much dust; but, unlike the said fly, I do not take it all

for my own raising.

A letter from _Bella_, [4] which I answered. I shall be in love with her

again if I don't take care.

I shall begin a more regular system of reading soon.

[Footnote 1: John Henderson, the Bath Roscius (1747-1785), without any

great personal advantages, was, according to Mrs. Siddons, "a fine actor

... the soul of intelligence." Rogers ('Table-Talk', ed. 1887, p. 110)

says,

"Henderson was a truly great actor: his Hamlet and his Falstaff were

equally good. He was a very fine reader too: in his comic readings,

superior, of course, to Mrs. Siddons: his John Gilpin was marvellous."

In Sharp's 'Letters and Essays' (ed. 1834, pp. 16-18) will be found an

interesting letter to Henderson, written a few days before his death,

giving an account of John Kemble's first appearance on the London

boards, in the character of "Hamlet."

"There has not," says Sharp, "been such a first appearance since

yours; yet Nature, though she has been bountiful to him in figure and

feature, has denied him a voice.... You have been so long without a

'brother near the throne,' that it will perhaps be serviceable to you

to be obliged to bestir yourself in Hamlet, Macbeth, Lord Townley, and

Maskwell; but in Lear, Richard, Falstaff, and Benedict, you have

nothing to fear, not-withstanding the known fickleness of the public

and its love of novelty."]

[Footnote 2: 'Henry IV', Part I. act ii. sc. 2.]

[Footnote 3: Matteo Bandello (1480-1562), a native of Piedmont, became

in 1550 Bishop of Agen. His 214 tales, in the manner of Boccaccio, were

published at Milan (1554-73). In the Catalogue of Byron's books, "sold

by auction by Mr. Evans, at his house, No. 26, Pall Mall, on Friday,

April 5, 1816, and following day," appears "Bandello, 'Novelle', 8 vol.,

wanting vol. 9, 'Livorn', 1791."]

[Footnote 4: Miss Milbanke, afterwards Lady Byron.]

* * * * *

Thursday, March 17.

I have been sparring with Jackson for exercise this morning; and mean to

continue and renew my acquaintance with the muffles. My chest, and arms,

and wind are in very good plight, and I am not in flesh. I used to be a

hard hitter, and my arms are very long for my height (5 feet 8 1/2

inches). At any rate, exercise is good, and this the severest of all;

fencing and the broad-sword never fatigued me half so much.

Redde the 'Quarrels of Authors' [1] (another sort of _sparring_)--a new

work, by that most entertaining and researching writer, Israeli. They

seem to be an irritable set, and I wish myself well out of it. "I'll not

march through Coventry with them, that's flat." [2] What the devil had I

to do with scribbling? It is too late to inquire, and all regret is

useless. But, an it were to do again,--I should write again, I suppose.

Such is human nature, at least my share of it;--though I shall think

better of myself, if I have sense to stop now. If I have a wife, and

that wife has a son--by any body--I will bring up mine heir in the most

anti-poetical way--make him a lawyer, or a pirate, or--any thing. But,

if he writes too, I shall be sure he is none of mine, and cut him off

with a Bank token. Must write a letter--three o'clock.

[Footnote 1: Disraeli's 'Curiosities of Literature', 2 vols. (1807);

'Calamities of Authors', 2 vols. (1812); and 'Quarrels of Authors', 3

vols. (1814), appear in the Sale Catalogue.]

[Footnote 2: 'Henry IV'., Part I. act iv. sc. 2.]

* * * * *

Sunday, March 20.