"Newstead Abbey, September 15. 1814.
"This is the fourth letter I have begun to you within the month.
Whether I shall finish or not, or burn it like the rest, I know
not. When we meet, I will explain _why_ I have not written--_why_ I
have not asked you here, as I wished--with a great many other
_whys_ and wherefores, which will keep cold. In short, you must
excuse all my seeming omissions and commissions, and grant me more
_re_mission than St. Athanasius will to yourself, if you lop off a
single shred of mystery from his pious puzzle. It is my creed (and
it may be St. Athanasius's too) that your article on T * * will get
somebody killed, and _that_, on the _Saints_, get him d----d
afterwards, which will be quite enow for one number. Oons, Tom! you
must not meddle just now with the incomprehensible; for if Johanna
Southcote turns out to be * * *
"Now for a little egotism. My affairs stand thus. To-morrow, I
shall know whether a circumstance of importance enough to change
many of my plans will occur or not. If it does not, I am off for
Italy next month, and London, in the mean time, next week. I have
got back Newstead and twenty-five thousand pounds (out of
twenty-eight paid already),--as a 'sacrifice,' the late purchaser
calls it, and he may choose his own name. I have paid some of my
debts, and contracted others; but I have a few thousand pounds,
which I can't spend after my own heart in this climate, and so, I
shall go back to the south. Hobhouse, I think and hope, will go
with me; but, whether he will or not, I shall. I want to see
Venice, and the Alps, and Parmesan cheeses, and look at the coast
of Greece, or rather Epirus, from Italy, as I once did--or fancied
I did--that of Italy, when off Corfu. All this, however, depends
upon an event, which may, or may not, happen. Whether it will, I
shall know probably to-morrow, and, if it does, I can't well go
abroad at present.
"Pray pardon this parenthetical scrawl. You shall hear from me
again soon;--I don't call this an answer. Ever most
affectionately," &c.
The "circumstance of importance," to which he alludes in this
letter, was his second proposal for Miss Milbanke, of which he was
now waiting the result. His own account, in his Memoranda, of the
circumstances that led to this step is, in substance, as far as I
can trust my recollection, as follows. A person, who had for some
time stood high in his affection and confidence, observing how
cheerless and unsettled was the state both of his mind and
prospects, advised him strenuously to marry; and, after much
discussion, he consented. The next point for consideration was--who
was to be the object of his choice; and while his friend mentioned
one lady, he himself named Miss Milbanke. To this, however, his
adviser strongly objected,--remarking to him, that Miss Milbanke
had at present no fortune, and that his embarrassed affairs would
not allow him to marry without one; that she was, moreover, a
learned lady, which would not at all suit him. In consequence of
these representations, he agreed that his friend should write a
proposal for him to the other lady named, which was accordingly
done;--and an answer, containing a refusal, arrived as they were,
one morning, sitting together. "You see," said Lord Byron, "that,
after all, Miss Milbanke is to be the person;--I will write to
her." He accordingly wrote on the moment, and, as soon as he had
finished, his friend, remonstrating still strongly against his
choice, took up the letter,--but, on reading it over, observed,
"Well, really, this is a very pretty letter;--it is a pity it
should not go. I never read a prettier one."--"Then it _shall_ go,"
said Lord Byron; and in so saying, sealed and sent off, on the
instant, this fiat of his fate.
* * * * *