Chapter XXV: Letter 170: ) (4)

I am mightily taken with Braccio di Montone, Giovanni Galeazzo, and Eccelino. But the last is _not_ Bracciaferro (of the same name), Count of Ravenna, whose history I want to trace. There is a fine engraving in Lavater, from a picture by Fuseli, of _that_ Ezzelin, over the body of Meduna, punished by him for a _hitch_ in her constancy during his absence in the Crusades. He was right--but I want to know the story. [8]

[Footnote 1: Philip Yorke, third Earl of Hardwicke, married, in 1782, Elizabeth, daughter of the fifth Earl of Balcarres.]

[Footnote 2: Louisa Emma, daughter of the second Earl of Ilchester, was married, in 1808, to the Marquis of Lansdowne, at that time Lord Henry Petty.]

[Footnote 3: Katherine Sophia, daughter of John Manners, of Grantham Grange, co. Lincoln, was married, in 1793, to Sir Gilbert Heathcote.]

[Footnote 4: Machiavelli's 'Opere', 13 vols., 'in russia, Milan' (1804); Sismondi's 'De la Litterature du Midi', 4 vols., 'in russia', Paris (1813); and Chardin's 'Voyages en Perse', 10 vols. and Atlas (1811), appear in the Catalogue of Sale.]

[Footnote 5:

"It is no slight consolation to us, while suffering under alternate
reproaches for ill-timed severity, and injudicious praise, to reflect
that no very mischievous effects have as yet resulted to the
literature of the country, from this imputed misbehaviour on our part.
Powerful genius, we are persuaded, will not be repressed even by
unjust castigation; nor will the most excessive praise that can be
lavished by sincere admiration ever abate the efforts that are fitted
to attain to excellence. Our alleged severity upon a youthful
production has not prevented the noble author from becoming the first
poet of his time."

'Edinburgh Review', vol. xxii. p. 416.]

[Footnote 6: Mackintosh wrote (1) a 'History of England' for Lardner's 'Cabinet Cyclopaedia' (1830); (2) a 'History of the Revolution in England' (1834).]

[Footnote 7: Afterwards fifth, and last, Duke of Gordon. He died in May, 1836.]

[Footnote 8:

"Fuseli's picture of Ezzelin Bracciaferro musing over Meduna, slain by
him for disloyalty during his absence in the Holy Land, was exhibited
at the Royal Academy in 1780. Mr. Knowles, in his 'Life' of the
painter, relates the following anecdote: 'Fuseli frequently invented
the subject of his pictures without the aid of the poet or historian,
as in his composition of Ezzelin, Belisaire, and some others: these he
denominated "philosophical ideas intuitive, or sentiment personified."
On one occasion he was much amused by the following inquiry of Lord
Byron: "I have been looking in vain, Mr. Fuseli, for some months, in
the poets and historians of Italy, for the subject of your picture of
Ezzelin: pray where is it to be found?" "Only in my brain, my Lord,"
was the answer: "for I invented it"' (vol. i. p. 403)" (Moore).]

* * * * *

Tuesday, March 22.

Last night, _party_ at Lansdowne House. To-night, _party_ at Lady Charlotte Greville's [1]--deplorable waste of time, and something of temper. Nothing imparted--nothing acquired--talking without ideas:--if any thing like _thought_ in my mind, it was not on the subjects on which we were gabbling. Heigho!--and in this way half London pass what is called life. To-morrow there is Lady Heathcote's--shall I go? yes--to punish myself for not having a pursuit.

Let me see--what did I see? The only person who much struck me was Lady S--d's [Stafford's] eldest daughter, Lady C. L. [2] [Charlotte Leveson]. They say she is _not_ pretty. I don't know--every thing is pretty that pleases; but there is an air of _soul_ about her--and her colour changes--and there is that shyness of the antelope (which I delight in) in her manner so much, that I observed her more than I did any other woman in the rooms, and only looked at any thing else when I thought she might perceive and feel embarrassed by my scrutiny. After all, there may be something of association in this. She is a friend of Augusta's, and whatever she loves I can't help liking.

Her mother, the Marchioness, talked to me a little; and I was twenty times on the point of asking her to introduce me to _sa fille_, but I stopped short. This comes of that affray with the Carlisles.

Earl Grey told me laughingly of a paragraph in the last _Moniteur_, which has stated, among other symptoms of rebellion, some particulars of the _sensation_ occasioned in all our government gazettes by the "tear" lines,--_only_ amplifying, in its re-statement, an epigram (by the by, no epigram except in the _Greek_ acceptation of the word) into a _roman_. I wonder the _Couriers_, etc., etc., have not translated that part of the _Moniteur_, with additional comments. [3]

The Princess of Wales has requested Fuseli to paint from 'The Corsair'--leaving to him the choice of any passage for the subject: so Mr. Locke tells me. Tired, jaded, selfish, and supine--must go to bed.

_Roman_, at least _Romance_, means a song sometimes, as in the Spanish. I suppose this is the _Moniteur's_ meaning, unless he has confused it with 'The Corsair'.

[Footnote 1: Daughter of William Henry Cavendish, third Duke of Portland, married, in 1793, to Charles Greville.]

[Footnote 2: Afterwards Countess of Surrey.]

[Footnote 3:

"Londres le 9 Mars... On vient de publier une caricature insolente et
grossiere centre le mariage projete (de la Princesse de Galles) et
centre le Prince d'Orange. En commentant cette gravure, le 'Town Talk'
a ose avancer que la Princesse Charlotte detestait son epoux futur, et
que ses veritables affections etaient sacrifices a des vues
politiques. Le Lord Byron a fait de ce bruit populaire le sujet d'une
romance."

'Moniteur', 17 Mars, 1814.]

* * * * *

Albany, March 28.

This night got into my new apartments, [1] rented of Lord Althorpe, on a lease of seven years. Spacious, and room for my books and sabres. _In_ the _house_, too, another advantage. The last few days, or whole week, have been very abstemious, regular in exercise, and yet very _un_well.

Yesterday, dined _tete-a-tete_ at the Cocoa with Scrope Davies--sat from six till midnight--drank between us one bottle of champagne and six of claret, neither of which wines ever affect me. Offered to take Scrope home in my carriage; but he was tipsy and pious, and I was obliged to leave him on his knees praying to I know not what purpose or pagod. No headach, nor sickness, that night nor to-day. Got up, if any thing, earlier than usual--sparred with Jackson _ad sudorem_, and have been much better in health than for many days. I have heard nothing more from Scrope. Yesterday paid him four thousand eight hundred pounds, a debt of some standing, and which I wished to have paid before. My mind is much relieved by the removal of that _debit_.

Augusta wants me to make it up with Carlisle. I have refused _every_ body else, but I can't deny her any thing;--so I must e'en do it, though I had as lief "drink up Eisel--eat a crocodile." [2] Let me see--Ward, the Hollands, the Lambs, Rogers, etc., etc.,--every body, more or less, have been trying for the last two years to accommodate this _couplet_ quarrel, to no purpose. I shall laugh if Augusta succeeds.

Redde a little of many things--shall get in all my books to-morrow. Luckily this room will hold them--with "ample room and verge, etc., the characters of hell to trace." [3] I must set about some employment soon; my heart begins to eat _itself_ again.

[Footnote 1: In 1804 Albany House, in Piccadilly, long occupied by the Duke of York and Albany, was converted into sets of bachelor chambers, and the gardens behind were also built over with additional suites of rooms. Byron's were in the original house on the ground floor, No. 2. Moore, writing to Rogers, April 12, 1814 ('Memoirs, etc'., vol. viii. p. 176), says,

"Lord Byron, as you know, has removed into Albany, and lives in an
apartment, I should think thirty by forty feet."]

[Footnote 2: 'Hamlet', act v. sc. 1, line 299.]

[Footnote 3:

"Give ample room, and verge enough
The characters of hell to trace."

Gray, 'The Bard', lines 51, 52.]

* * * * *

April 8.

Out of town six days. On my return, found my poor little pagod, Napoleon, pushed off his pedestal;--the thieves are in Paris. It is his own fault. Like Milo, he would rend the oak; [1] but it closed again, wedged his hands, and now the beasts--lion, bear, down to the dirtiest jackal--may all tear him. That Muscovite winter _wedged_ his arms;--ever since, he has fought with his feet and teeth. The last may still leave their marks; and "I guess now" (as the Yankees say) that he will yet play them a pass. He is in their rear--between them and their homes. Query--will they ever reach them?

[Footnote 1: He adopted this thought afterwards in his 'Ode to Napoleon', as well as most of the historical examples in the following paragraph:

"He who of old would rend the oak,
Dream'd not of the rebound;
Chain'd by the trunk he vainly broke--
Alone--how look'd he round?"]

* * * * *

Saturday, April 9, 1814.

I mark this day!

Napoleon Buonaparte has abdicated the throne of the world. "Excellent well." Methinks Sylla did better; for he revenged and resigned in the height of his sway, red with the slaughter of his foes--the finest instance of glorious contempt of the rascals upon record. Dioclesian did well too--Amurath not amiss, had he become aught except a dervise--Charles the Fifth but so so--but Napoleon, worst of all. What! wait till they were in his capital, and then talk of his readiness to give up what is already gone!! "What whining monk art thou--what holy cheat?" [1] 'Sdeath!--Dionysius at Corinth was yet a king to this. The "Isle of Elba" to retire to!--Well--if it had been Caprea, I should have marvelled less. "I see men's minds are but a parcel of their fortunes." [2] I am utterly bewildered and confounded.

I don't know--but I think _I_, even _I_ (an insect compared with this creature), have set my life on casts not a millionth part of this man's. But, after all, a crown may be not worth dying for. Yet, to outlive _Lodi_ for this!!!

Oh that Juvenal or Johnson could rise from the dead! _Expende--quot libras in duce summo invenies_? [3] I knew they were light in the balance of mortality; but I thought their living dust weighed more _carats_. [4] Alas! this imperial diamond hath a flaw in it, and is now hardly fit to stick in a glazier's pencil:--the pen of the historian won't rate it worth a ducat.

Psha! "something too much of this." [5] But I won't give him up even now; though all his admirers have, "like the thanes, fallen from him." [6]

[Footnote 1: In Otway's 'Venice Preserved' (act iv. sc. 2), Pierre says to Jaffier, who had betrayed him:

"What whining monk art thou? What holy cheat?
That would'st encroach upon my credulous ears,
And cant'st thus vilely! Hence! I know thee not!"]

[Footnote 2:

"I see, men's judgements are a parcel of their fortunes."

'Antony and Cleopatra', act iii. sc. II, line 32.]

[Footnote 3:

"Expende Hannibalem: quot libras in duce summo
Invenies?"

Juvenal, 'Sat'. x. 147.

"Produce the urn that Hannibal contains,
And weigh the mighty dust which yet remains:
'And is this all?'"

Gifford's 'Juvenal' (ed. 1802), vol. ii. pp. 338, 339.]

[Footnote 4:

"In the Statistical Account of Scotland, I find that Sir John Paterson
had the curiosity to collect, and weigh, the ashes of a person
discovered a few years since in the parish of Eccles. Wonderful to
relate, he found the whole did not exceed in weight one ounce and a
half! 'And is this all'!"

Gifford's 'Juvenal, ut supra'.]

[Footnote 5: 'Hamlet', act iii. sc. 2.]

[Footnote 6: 'Macbeth', act v. sc. 3,

"Doctor, the thanes fly from me!"]

* * * * *

April 10.

I do not know that I am happiest when alone; but this I am sure of, that I never am long in the society even of _her_ I love, (God knows too well, and the devil probably too,) without a yearning for the company of my lamp and my utterly confused and tumbled-over library. Even in the day, I send away my carriage oftener than I use or abuse it. _Per esempio_,--I have not stirred out of these rooms for these four days past: but I have sparred for exercise (windows open) with Jackson an hour daily, to attenuate and keep up the ethereal part of me. The more violent the fatigue, the better my spirits for the rest of the day; and then, my evenings have that calm nothingness of languor, which I most delight in. To-day I have boxed an hour--written an ode to Napoleon Buonaparte--copied it--eaten six biscuits--drunk four bottles of soda water [1]--redde away the rest of my time--besides giving poor [? Webster] a world of advice about this mistress of his, who is plaguing him into a phthisic and intolerable tediousness. I am a pretty fellow truly to lecture about "the sect." No matter, my counsels are all thrown away.

[Footnote 1: The following is one of Byron's bills for soda water:

Lord Byron to R. Shipwash, 27 St. Albans St.

1814-- s. d.
4 Octr. 2 Doz. Soda Water 11 0
7 " 2 Doz. do. do. 11 0
13 " 2 Doz. do. do. 11 0
20 " 2 Doz. do. do. 11 0
25 2 Doz. do. do. 11 0
30 " 2 Doz. do. do. 11 0
9 Decr. 2 Doz. do. do. 11 0
14 " 2 Doz. do. do. 11 0
17 " 2 Doz. do. do. 11 0
22 " 2 Doz. do. do. 11 0
6 1 0
[overstrike 1 7 6]
[overstrike 4 13 6]
25th Decr. 1814
Recd. R. Shipwash.

* * * * *

April 19, 1814.

There is ice at both poles, north and south--all extremes are the same--misery belongs to the highest and the lowest only, to the emperor and the beggar, when unsixpenced and unthroned. There is, to be sure, a damned insipid medium--an equinoctial line--no one knows where, except upon maps and measurement.

"And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death." [1]

I will keep no further journal of that same hesternal torch-light; and, to prevent me from returning, like a dog, to the vomit of memory, I tear out the remaining leaves of this volume, and write, in _Ipecacuanha_, --"that the Bourbons are restored!!!"--"Hang up philosophy." [2] To be sure, I have long despised myself and man, but I never spat in the face of my species before--"O fool! I shall go mad." [3]

[Footnote 1: 'Macbeth', act v. sc. 5, line 22.]

[Footnote 2: 'Romeo and Juliet', act iii. sc. 3.]

[Footnote 3: 'King Lear', act ii. sc. 4.]

* * * * *