The Works Of Lord Byron, Letters and Journals, Vol. 1 by Lord Byron, Edited by Rowland E. Prothero

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Believe me, yours very truly,

BYRON.

[Footnote 1: In Byron's 'Detached Thoughts', quoted by Moore ('Life', p.
72), he thus refers to the comparison with Rousseau:--

"My mother, before I was twenty, would have it that I was like
Rousseau, and Madame de Stael used to say so too in 1813, and the
'Edinburgh Review' has something of the sort in its critique on the
fourth canto of 'Childe Harold'. I can't see any point of
resemblance:--he wrote prose, I verse: he was of the people; I of the
aristocracy: he was a philosopher; I am none: he published his first
work at forty; I mine at eighteen: his first essay brought him
universal applause; mine the contrary: he married his housekeeper; I
could not keep house with my wife: he thought all the world in a plot
against him; my little world seems to think me in a plot against it,
if I may judge by their abuse in print and coterie: he liked botany; I
like flowers, herbs, and trees, but know nothing of their pedigrees:
he wrote music; I limit my knowledge of it to what I catch by _ear_--I
never could learn any thing by _study_, not even a _language_--it was
all by rote and ear, and memory: he had a _bad_ memory; I _had_, at
least, an excellent one (ask Hodgson the poet--a good judge, for he
has an astonishing one): he wrote with hesitation and care; I with
rapidity, and rarely with pains: _he_ could never ride, nor swim, nor
'was cunning of fence;' _I_ am an excellent swimmer, a decent, though
not at all a dashing, rider, (having staved in a rib at eighteen, in
the course of scampering,) and was sufficient of fence, particularly
of the Highland broadsword,--not a bad boxer, when I could keep my
temper, which was difficult, but which I strove to do ever since I
knocked down Mr. Purling, and put his knee-pan out (with the gloves
on), in Angelo's and Jackson's rooms in 1806, during the sparring,
--and I was, besides, a very fair cricketer,--one of the Harrow
eleven, when we played against Eton in 1805. Besides, Rousseau's way
of life, his country, his manners, his whole character, were so very
different, that I am at a loss to conceive how such a comparison could
have arisen, as it has done three several times, and all in rather a
remarkable manner. I forgot to say that _he_ was also short-sighted,
and that hitherto my eyes have been the contrary, to such a degree
that, in the largest theatre of Bologna, I distinguished and read some
busts and inscriptions, painted near the stage, from a box so distant
and so _darkly_ lighted, that none of the company (composed of young
and very bright-eyed people, some of them in the same box,) could make
out a letter, and thought it was a trick, though I had never been in
that theatre before.

"Altogether, I think myself justified in thinking the comparison not
well founded. I don't say this out of pique, for Rousseau was a great
man; and the thing, if true, were flattering enough;--but I have no
idea of being pleased with the chimera."]

[Footnote 2: The Hon. Mrs. George Byron, 'née' Frances Levett, Byron's
great-aunt, widow of the Hon. George Byron, fourth brother of William,
fifth Lord Byron.]

101.--To his Mother.

Newstead Abbey, November 2, 1808.

DEAR MOTHER,--If you please, we will forget the things you mention. I
have no desire to remember them. When my rooms are finished, I shall
be happy to see you; as I tell but the truth, you will not suspect me
of evasion. I am furnishing the house more for you than myself, and I
shall establish you in it before I sail for India, which I expect to
do in March, if nothing particularly obstructive occurs. I am now
fitting up the _green_ drawing-room; the red for a bed-room, and the
rooms over as sleeping-rooms. They will be soon completed;--at least
I hope so.

I wish you would inquire of Major Watson (who is an old Indian) what
things will be necessary to provide for my voyage. I have already
procured a friend to write to the Arabic Professor at Cambridge, [1]
for some information I am anxious to procure. I can easily get letters
from government to the ambassadors, consuls, etc., and also to the
governors at Calcutta and Madras. I shall place my property and my
will in the hands of trustees till my return, and I mean to appoint
you one. From Hanson I have heard nothing--when I do, you shall have
the particulars.

After all, you must own my project is not a bad one. If I do not
travel now, I never shall, and all men should one day or other. I have
at present no connections to keep me at home; no wife, or unprovided
sisters, brothers, etc. I shall take care of you, and when I return I
may possibly become a politician. A few years' knowledge of other
countries than our own will not incapacitate me for that part. If we
see no nation but our own, we do not give mankind a fair chance;--it
is from _experience_, not books, we ought to judge of them. There is
nothing like inspection, and trusting to our own senses.

Yours, etc.

[Footnote 1: The Rev. John Palmer, Fellow of St. John's, Adam's
Professor of Arabic (1804-19).]

102.--To Francis Hodgson. [1]

Newstead Abbey, Notts., Nov. 3, 1808.

My Dear Hodgson,--I expected to have heard ere this the event of your
interview with the mysterious Mr. Haynes, my volunteer correspondent;
however, as I had no business to trouble you with the adjustment of my
concerns with that illustrious stranger, I have no right to complain
of your silence.

You have of course seen Drury, [2] in all the pleasing palpitations of
anticipated wedlock. Well! he has still something to look forward to,
and his present extacies are certainly enviable. "Peace be with him
and with his spirit," and his flesh also, at least just now ...

Hobhouse and your humble are still here. Hobhouse hunts, etc., and I
do nothing; we dined the other day with a neighbouring Esquire (not
Collet of Staines), and regretted your absence, as the Bouquet of
Staines was scarcely to be compared to our last "feast of reason." You
know, laughing is the sign of a rational animal; so says Dr. Smollett.
I think so, too, but unluckily my spirits don't always keep pace with
my opinions. I had not so much scope for risibility the other day as I
could have wished, for I was seated near a woman, to whom, when a boy,
I was as much attached as boys generally are, and more than a man
should be. [3] I knew this before I went, and was determined to be
valiant, and converse with _sang froid_; but instead I forgot my
valour and my nonchalance, and never opened my lips even to laugh, far
less to speak, and the lady was almost as absurd as myself, which made
both the object of more observation than if we had conducted ourselves
with easy indifference. You will think all this great nonsense; if you
had seen it, you would have thought it still more ridiculous. What
fools we are! We cry for a plaything, which, like children, we are
never satisfied with till we break open, though like them we cannot
get rid of it by putting it in the fire.

I have tried for Gifford's _Epistle to Pindar_,[4] and the bookseller
says the copies were cut up for _waste paper_; if you can procure me a
copy I shall be much obliged. Adieu!

Believe me, my dear Sir, yours ever sincerely,

BYRON.

[Footnote 1: Francis Hodgson (1781-1852), educated at Eton (1794-99) and
at King's College, Cambridge, Scholar (1799), Fellow (1802), hesitated
between literature and the bar as his profession. For three years he was
a private tutor, for one (1806) a master at Eton. In 1807 he became a
resident tutor at King's. It was not till 1812 that he decided to take
orders. Two years later he married Miss Tayler, a sister of Mrs. Henry
Drury, and took a country curacy. In 1816 he was given the Eton living
of Bakewell, in Derbyshire, became Archdeacon of Derby in 1836, and in
1840 Provost of Eton. At Eton he died December 29, 1852.

Hodgson's literary facility was extraordinary. He rhymed with an ease
which almost rivals that of Byron, and from 1807 to 1818 he poured out
quantities of verse, English and Latin, original and translated, besides
writing articles for the 'Quarterly', the 'Monthly', and the 'Critical'
Reviews. He published his 'Translation of Juvenal' in 1807, in which he
was assisted by Drury and Merivale; 'Lady Jane Grey', a Tale; and other
Poems (1809); 'Sir Edgar, a Tale' (1810); 'Leaves of Laurel' (1812);
'Charlemagne, an Epic Poem' (1815), translated from the original of
Lucien Bonaparte, Prince of Canino, by S. Butler and Francis Hodgson;
'The Friends, a Poem in Four Books; Mythology for Versification' (1831);
'A Charge, as Archdeacon of Derby' (1837); 'Sermons' (1846); and other
works.

His acquaintance with Byron began in 1807, when Byron was meditating
'British Bards', and Hodgson, provoked by a review of his 'Juvenal' in
the 'Edinburgh Review', was composing his 'Gentle Alterative prepared
for the Reviewers', which appears on pp. 56, 57 of 'Lady Jane Grey'.
There are some curious points of resemblance between the two poems,
though Hodgson's lines can hardly be compared for force and sting to
'English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers'. Like Byron (see 'English Bards,
etc'., line 513, note 7), he makes merry over the blunder of the
'Edinburgh' reviewer, who, in an article on Payne Knight's 'Principles
of Taste', severely criticized some Greek lines which he attributed to
Knight, but which, in fact, were by Pindar:--

"And when he frown'd on Kn--'s erroneous Greek,
Bad him in Pindar's page that error seek."

Like Byron also, he attributes the blunder to Hallam, and speaks of
"Hallam's baffled art." The article was written by Lord Holland's
physician, Dr. Allen, who, according to Sydney Smith, had "the creed of
a philosopher and the legs of a clergyman." Like Byron also (see
'English Bards, etc'., line 820), he appeals to Gifford, who was an old
family friend, to return to the fray:--

"Oh! for that voice, whose cadence loud and strong
Drove Delia Crusca from the field of song--
And with a force that guiltier fools should feel,
Rack'd a vain butterfly on Satire's wheel."

In a note appended to the words in his satire--"Like clowns detest
nobility"--he refers to the 'Edinburgh's' treatment of Byron's verse.

The link thus established between Byron and Hodgson grew stronger for
the next few years. Hodgson suppressed Moore's challenge to the author
of 'English Bards'; was Byron's guest at Newstead (see page 179 [Letter
92], in [Foot]note [further down]); pleaded with him on the subject of
religion; translated his lines, "I would I were a careless child," into
Latin verse ('Lady Jane Grey', p. 94); addressed him in poetry, as, for
instance, in the "Lines to a Friend going abroad" ('Sir Edgar', p. 173).
Byron, on his side, seems to have been sincerely attached to Hodgson, to
whom he left, by his first will (1811), one-third of his personal goods,
and in 1813 gave £1000 to enable him to marry. Hodgson corresponded with
Mrs. Leigh and with Miss Milbanke, afterwards Lady Byron, endeavoured to
heal the breach between husband and wife, and was one of the mourners at
Hucknall Torkard Church.

In Haydon's 'Table-Talk' (vol. ii. pp. 367-8) is recorded a conversation
with Hobhouse on the subject of Hodgson. Haydon's account of Hobhouse's
words is confused; but he definitely asserts that Hodgson's life was
dissipated, and insinuates that he perverted Byron's character. Part of
the explanation is probably this: Hodgson's friend, the Rev. Robert
Bland, kept a mistress, described as a woman of great personal and
mental attraction. He asked Hodgson, during his absence on the
Continent, to visit the lady and send him frequent news of her. Hodgson
did so, with the result that, at Bland's return, the lady refused to see
him. When Byron came back from his Eastern tour, he received a frantic
letter from Bland, telling him that Hodgson had stolen her love. To this
Byron refers in his letter to Harness, December 15, 1811, and probably
told an embellished story to Hobhouse. But Hodgson himself warmly
repudiated the charge; and there is no reason to think that his version
of the affair is not the truth.]

[Footnote 2: The Rev. Henry Drury married, December 20, 1808, Ann
Caroline, daughter of Archdale Wilson Tayler, of Boreham Wood, Herts.
Their five sons were all educated at Harrow: Henry, Archdeacon of Wilts
and editor of 'Arundines Cami' (1841); Byron, Vice-Admiral R.N.;
Benjamin Heath, Vice-President of Caius College, Cambridge; Heber,
Colonel in the Madras Army; Charles Curtis, General of the Bengal Staff
Corps (see also page 41 [Letter 14], [Foot]note 2 [1]).]

[Footnote 3: Mrs. Chaworth Musters (see Byron's lines, "Well! thou art
happy," 'Poems', vol. i. pp. 277-279).]

[Footnote 4: William Gifford (1756-1826), a self-taught scholar, first a
ploughboy, then boy on board a Brixham coaster, afterwards shoemaker's
apprentice, was sent by friends to Exeter College, Oxford (1779-81). In
the 'Baviad' (1794) and the 'Maeviad' (1795) he attacked many of the
smaller writers of the day, who were either silly, like the Delia
Cruscan school, or discreditable, like Williams, who wrote as "Anthony
Pasquin." In his 'Epistle to Peter Pindar' (1800) he succeeds in laying
bare the true character of John Wolcot. As editor of the 'Anti-Jacobin,
or Weekly Examiner' (November, 1797, to July, 1798), he supported the
political views of Canning and his friends. As editor of the 'Quarterly
Review', from its foundation (February, 1809) to his resignation in
September, 1824, he did yeoman's service to sound literature by his good
sense and adherence to the best models. It was a period when all
criticism was narrow, and, to some degree, warped by political
prejudice. In these respects, Gifford's work may not have risen
above--it certainly did not fall below--the highest standard of
contemporary criticism. His editions of 'Massinger' (1805), which
superseded that of Monck Mason and Davies (1765), of 'Ben Jonson'
(1816), of 'Ford' (1827), are valuable. To his translation of 'Juvenal'
(1802) is prefixed his autobiography. His translation of 'Persius'
appeared in 1821. To Gifford, Byron usually paid the utmost deference.

"Any suggestion of yours, even if it were conveyed," he writes to him,
in 1813, "in the less tender text of the 'Baviad,' or a Monk Mason
note to Massinger, would be obeyed."

See also his letter (September 7, 1811), in which he calls Gifford his
"Magnus Apollo," and values his praise above the gems of Samarcand.

"He was," says Sir Walter Scott ('Diary,' January 18, 1827), "a little
man, dumpled up together, and so ill-made as to seem almost deformed,
but with a singular expression of talent in his countenance."

Byron was attracted to Gifford, partly by his devotion to the classical
models of literature, partly by the outspoken frankness of his literary
criticism, partly also, perhaps, by his physical deformity.

103.--To John Hanson.

Newstead Abbey, Notts., November 18th, 1808.

Dear Sir,--I am truly glad to hear your health is reinstated. As for
my affairs I am sure you will do your best, and, though I should be
glad to get rid of my Lancashire property for an equivalent in money,
I shall not take any steps of that nature without good advice and
mature consideration.

I am (as I have already told you) going abroad in the spring; for this
I have many reasons. In the first place, I wish to study India and
Asiatic policy and manners. I am young, tolerably vigorous, abstemious
in my way of living; I have no pleasure in fashionable dissipation,
and I am determined to take a wider field than is customary with
travellers. If I return, my judgment will be more mature, and I shall
still be young enough for politics. With regard to expence, travelling
through the East is rather inconvenient than expensive: it is not like
the tour of Europe, you undergo hardship, but incur little hazard of
spending money. If I live here I must have my house in town, a
separate house for Mrs. Byron; I must keep horses, etc., etc. When I
go abroad I place Mrs. Byron at Newstead (there is one great expence
saved), I have no horses to keep. A voyage to India will take me six
months, and if I had a dozen attendants cannot cost me five hundred
pounds; and you will agree with me that a like term of months in
England would lead me into four times that expenditure. I have written
to Government for letters and permission of the Company, so you see I
am _serious._

You honour my debts; they amount to perhaps twelve thousand pounds,
and I shall require perhaps three or four thousand at setting out,
with credit on a Bengal agent. This you must manage for me. If my
resources are not adequate to the supply I must _sell_, but _not
Newstead._ I will at least transmit that to the next Lord. My debts
must be paid, if possible, in February. I shall leave my affairs to
the care of _trustees_, of whom, with your acquiescence, I shall _name
you_ one, Mr. Parker another, and two more, on whom I am not yet
determined.

Pray let me hear from you soon. Remember me to Mrs. Hanson, whom I
hope to see on her return. Present my best respects to the young lady,
and believe me, etc.,

BYRON.

104.--To Francis Hodgson.

Newstead Abbey, Notts., Nov. 27, 1808.

My Dear Sir,--Boatswain [1] is to be buried in a vault waiting for
myself. I have also written an epitaph, which I would send, were it
not for two reasons: one is, that it is too long for a letter; and the
other, that I hope you will some day read it on the spot where it will
be engraved.

You discomfort me with the intelligence of the real orthodoxy of the
Arch-fiend's name, [2] but alas! it must stand with me at present; if
ever I have an opportunity of correcting, I shall liken him to
Geoffrey of Monmouth, a noted liar in his way, and perhaps a more
correct prototype than the Carnifex of James II.

I do not think the composition of your poem "a sufficing reason" for
not keeping your promise of a Christmas visit. Why not come? I will
never disturb you in your moments of inspiration; and if you wish to
collect any materials for the _scenery_?,[3] Hardwicke (where Mary was
confined for several years) is not eight miles distant, and,
independent of the interest you must take in it as her vindicator, is
a most beautiful and venerable object of curiosity. I shall take it
very ill if you do not come; my mansion is improving in comfort, and,
when you require solitude, I shall have an apartment devoted to the
purpose of receiving your poetical reveries.

I have heard from our Drury; he says little of the Row, which I
regret: indeed I would have sacrificed much to have contributed in any
way (as a schoolboy) to its consummation; but Butler survives, and
thirteen boys have been expelled in vain. Davies is not here, but
Hobhouse hunts as usual, and your humble servant "drags at each remove
a lengthened chain." I have heard from his Grace of Portland [4] on
the subject of my expedition: he talks of difficulties; by the gods!
if he throws any in my way I will next session ring such a peal in his
ears,

That he shall wish the fiery
Dane Had rather been his guest again. [5]

You do not tell me if Gifford is really my commentator: it is too good
to be true, for I know nothing would gratify my vanity so much as the
reality; even the idea is too precious to part with.

I shall expect you here; let me have no more excuses. Hobhouse desires
his best remembrance. We are now lingering over our evening potations.
I have extended my letter further than I ought, and beg you will
excuse it; on the opposite page I send you some stanzas [6] I wrote
off on being questioned by a former flame as to my motives for
quitting this country. You are the first reader. Hobhouse hates
everything of the kind, therefore I do not show them to him. Adieu!

Believe me, yours very sincerely,

BYRON.

[Footnote 1: Boatswain, the Newfoundland dog, died November 18, 1808.
(For Byron's inscriptions in prose and verse, see 'Poems', vol. i. p.
280.)]

[Footnote 2: Byron at first thought that Jeffrey, the editor of the
'Edinburgh Review', spelt his name in the same way as the Judge Jeffreys
of the Bloody Assizes. He probably writes "orthodoxy" for "orthography"
as a joke. (See the lines quoted from 'British Bards' in notes to
'English. Bards, etc.', line 439, note 2.)]

[Footnote 3: It is stated that Hodgson was writing a poem on Mary Queen
of Scots ('Life of Rev. Francis Hodgson', vol. i. p. 107). No such poem
was apparently ever published. In Hodgson's 'Lady Jane Grey', Queen Mary
of England plays a part; hence, possibly, the mistake.]

[Footnote 4: Byron asked the Duke of Portland to procure him "permission
from the E.I. Directors to pass through their settlements." The duke
replied, in effect, that Byron trespassed on his time and patience. So
Byron at least took his answer (see 'English Bards, and Scotch
Reviewers,' line 1016 and note 2).]

[Footnote 5: 'Marmion', Canto II. stanza xxxi.]

[Footnote 6: See stanzas "To a Lady on being asked my Reason for
Quitting England in the Spring" ('Poems', vol. i. p. 282).]

105.--To the Hon. Augusta Leigh.

[Ld. Chichester's, Stratton Street, London.]

Newstead Abbey, Notts., [Wednesday], Novr. 30th, 1808.

My Dearest Augusta,--I return you my best thanks for making me an
uncle, and forgive the sex this time; but the next _must_ be a nephew.
You will be happy to hear my Lancashire property is likely to prove
extremely valuable; indeed my pecuniary affairs are altogether far
superior to my expectations or any other person's. If I would _sell_,
my income would probably be six thousand per annum; but I will not
part at least with Newstead, or indeed with the other, which is of a
nature to increase in value yearly. I am living here _alone_, which
suits my inclinations better than society of any kind. Mrs. Byron I
have shaken off for two years, and I shall not resume her yoke in
future, I am afraid my disposition will suffer in your estimation; but
I never can forgive that woman, or breathe in comfort under the same
roof.

I am a very unlucky fellow, for I think I had naturally not a bad
heart; but it has been so bent, twisted, and trampled on, that it has
now become as hard as a Highlander's heelpiece.

I do not know that much alteration has taken place in my person,
except that I am grown much thinner, and somewhat taller! I saw Col.
Leigh at Brighton in July, where I should have been glad to have seen
you; I only know your husband by sight, though I am acquainted with
many of the Tenth. Indeed my relations are those whom I know the
least, and in most instances, I am not very anxious to improve the
acquaintance. I hope you are quite recovered, I shall be in town in
January to take my seat, and will call, if convenient; let me hear
from you before.

[Signature cut off, and over the page is, in Mrs. Leigh's writing,
this endorsement: "Sent to Miss Alderson to go to Germany, May 29th,
1843."]

106.--To the Hon. Augusta Leigh.

[Ld. Chichester's, Stratton Street, London.]

Newstead Abbey, Notts., Decr. 14th, 1808.

My Dearest Augusta,--When I stated in my last, that my intercourse
with the world had hardened my heart, I did not mean from any
matrimonial disappointment, no, I have been guilty of many
absurdities, but I hope in God I shall always escape that worst of
evils, Marriage. I have no doubt there are exceptions, and of course
include you amongst them, but you will recollect, that "_exceptions
only prove the Rule_."

I live here much in my own manner, that is, _alone_, for I could not
bear the company of my best friend, above a month; there is such a
sameness in mankind upon the whole, and they grow so much more
disgusting every day, that, were it not for a portion of Ambition, and
a conviction that in times like the present we ought to perform our
respective duties, I should live here all my life, in unvaried
Solitude. I have been visited by all our Nobility and Gentry; but I
return no visits. Joseph Murray is at the head of my household, poor
honest fellow! I should be a great Brute, if I had not provided for
him in the manner most congenial to his own feelings, and to mine. I
have several horses, and a considerable establishment, but I am not
addicted to hunting or shooting. I hate all field sports, though a few
years since I was a tolerable adept in the _polite_ arts of
Foxhunting, Hawking, Boxing, etc., etc. My Library is rather
extensive, (and as you perhaps know) I am a mighty Scribbler; I
flatter myself I have made some improvements in Newstead, and, as I am
independent, I am happy, as far as any person unfortunate enough to be
born into this world, can be said to be so.

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