Chapter VII: May, 1813-December, 1813 (3)

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

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

[Footnote 7:

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

(Moore).]

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

[Footnote 9: Maxime LXXXV.:

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

* * * * *

325.--To Thomas Moore.

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

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

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

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

Ever, dear Moore, yours most entirely, etc.

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

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

[Footnote 2:

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

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

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

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

Albany, Monday, August 31, 1813.

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

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

"I remain, my dear Byron,

"Yours very sincerely,

"Sligo".]

* * * * *

326.--To James Wedderburn Webster.

September 2nd, 1813.

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

"Will I be Godfather?" [2]

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

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

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

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

Equally yours ever,

B.

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

[Footnote 1: Joseph Murray]

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

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

(MS. note by Wedderburn Webster.)]

* * * * *

327.--To Thomas Moore.

Sept. 5, 1813.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ever, etc.

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

328.--To Thomas Moore.

September 8, 1813.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

329.--To Thomas Moore.

Sept. 9, 1813.

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

Ever, etc., etc.

* * * * *

330.--To James Wedderburn Webster.

September 15th, 1813.

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

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

Ever yours very faithfully,

BYRON.

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

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

* * * * *

331.--To the Hon. Augusta Leigh.

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

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

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

Yours very truly,

B.

* * * * *

332.--To John Murray.

Sept. 15, 1813.

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

Yours ever,

B.

* * * * *

333.--To James Wedderburn Webster.

Stilton, September 25th, 1813.

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

Ever, dear W., yours truly,

B.

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

* * * * *

334.--To Sir James Mackintosh.

Sept. 27, 1813.

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

Ever your obliged and faithful servant,

BYRON.

* * * * *

335.--To Thomas Moore.

September 27, 1813.

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

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

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

Ever yours,

BN.

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

336.--To John Murray.

Sept. 29, 1813.

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

Yours ever,

B.

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

* * * * *

337.--To James Wedderburn Webster.

September 30th, 1813.

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

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

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

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

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

Ever, my dear W., yours,

Biron.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

338.--To Francis Hodgson.

October 1, 1813.

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

* * * * *

339.--To Thomas Moore.

October 2, 1813.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Take, O Scamander, my virginity'

([Greek: to epos touto hosper hieron ti epilegein, Lhabe mou
Scamandre taen parthenian)."]

[Footnote 3:

"The motto to 'The Giaour':

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

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

* * * * *

340.--To John Murray.

Stilton, Oct. 3, 1813.

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

Unmeet for Solitude to share.

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

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

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

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

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

and must be altered to:

To break the Master's bread and salt.

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

341.--To John Hanson.

Nottingham, Octr. 10th, 1813.

Dear Sir,--I am disposed to advance a loan of L1000 to James Webster Wedderburne Webster, Esqre., of Aston Hall, York County, and request you will address to me _there a bond_ and _judgement_ to be signed by the said as soon as possible. Of Claughton's payments I know nothing further, and the demands on myself I know also; but W. is a very old friend of mine, and a man of property, and, as I can command the money, he shall have it. I do not at all wish to inconvenience you, and I also know that, when we balance accounts, it will be much in your favour; but if you could replace the sum at Hoare's from my advance of two thousand eight hundred in July, it would be a favour; or, still better, if C. makes further payments, which will render it unnecessary. Don't let the first part of the last sentence embarrass you at all; the last part about Claughton I would wish you to attend to. I have written this day--about his opening the cellar.

Pray send the bond and judgement to Aston as directed.

Ever, dear Sir,

B.

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

* * * * *

342.--To the Hon. Augusta Leigh.

[Sunday], October 10th, 1813.

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

Yours,

B.

* * * * *

343.--To John Murray.

Oct. 12, 1813.

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

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

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

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

Yours ever,

B.

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

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

* * * * *

344.--To the Hon. Augusta Leigh.

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

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

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

Believe me, ever yours,

B.

* * * * *

345.--To John Murray.

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

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

Yours ever,

B.

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

* * * * *

346.--To William Gifford.

November 12, 1813.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your obliged and affectionate servant,

BYRON.

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

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

* * * * *

347.--To John Murray.

Nov. 12, 1813.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

348.--To John Murray.

Nov. 13, 1813.

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

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

It must be:

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

Ever yours, B.

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

B.

* * * * *

349.--To John Murray.

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

And tints to-morrow with a _fancied_ ray

Print:

And tints to-morrow with _prophetic_ ray.

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

Or,

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

Or,

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

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

Ever yours, B.

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

* * * * *

350.--To John Murray.

Nov. 13, 1813.

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

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

[Footnote 1:

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

(Moore).]

* * * * *

351.--To John Murray.

Nov. 14, 1813.

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

Yours ever,

B.

* * * * *

352.--To John Murray.

November 15, 1813.

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

Yours ever, B.

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

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

* * * * *

353.--To John Murray.

November 17, 1813.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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