The Works Of Lord Byron, Letters and Journals, Vol. 1

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

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Now at length we're off for Turkey,
Lord knows when we shall come back!
Breezes foul and tempests murky
May unship us in a crack.
But, since life at most a jest is,
As philosophers allow,
Still to laugh by far the best is,
Then laugh on--as I do now.
Laugh at all things,
Great and small things,
Sick or well, at sea or shore;
While we're quaffing,
Let's have laughing--
Who the devil cares for more?--
Some good wine! and who would lack it,
Ev'n on board the Lisbon Packet?

"BYRON."

126.--To Francis Hodgson.

Lisbon, July 16, 1809.

Thus far have we pursued our route, and seen all sorts of marvellous
sights, palaces, convents, etc.;--which, being to be heard in my
friend Hobhouse's forthcoming Book of Travels, I shall not anticipate
by smuggling any account whatsoever to you in a private and
clandestine manner. I must just observe, that the village of Cintra in
Estremadura is the most beautiful, perhaps, in the world.

I am very happy here, because I loves oranges, and talks bad Latin to
the monks, who understand it, as it is like their own,--and I goes
into society (with my pocket-pistols), and I swims in the Tagus all
across at once, and I rides on an ass or a mule, and swears
Portuguese, and have got a diarrhoea and bites from the mosquitoes.
But what of that? Comfort must not be expected by folks that go a
pleasuring.

When the Portuguese are pertinacious, I say 'Carracho!'--the great
oath of the grandees, that very well supplies the place of
"Damme,"--and, when dissatisfied with my neighbour, I pronounce him
'Ambra di merdo'. With these two phrases, and a third, 'Avra louro',
which signifieth "Get an ass," I am universally understood to be a
person of degree and a master of languages. How merrily we lives that
travellers be!--if we had food and raiment. But, in sober sadness, any
thing is better than England, and I am infinitely amused with my
pilgrimage as far as it has gone.

To-morrow we start to ride post near 400 miles as far as Gibraltar,
where we embark for Melita and Byzantium. A letter to Malta will find
me, or to be forwarded, if I am absent. Pray embrace the Drury and
Dwyer, and all the Ephesians you encounter. I am writing with Butler's
donative pencil, which makes my bad hand worse. Excuse illegibility.

Hodgson! send me the news, and the deaths and defeats and capital
crimes and the misfortunes of one's friends; and let us hear of
literary matters, and the controversies and the criticisms. All this
will be pleasant--'Suave mari magno', etc. Talking of that, I have
been sea-sick, and sick of the sea. Adieu.

Yours faithfully, etc.

127.--To Francis Hodgson.

Gibraltar, August 6, 1809.

I have just arrived at this place after a journey through Portugal,
and a part of Spain, of nearly 500 miles. We left Lisbon and travelled
on horseback to Seville and Cadiz, and thence in the 'Hyperion'
frigate to Gibraltar. The horses are excellent--we rode seventy miles
a day. Eggs and wine, and hard beds, are all the accommodation we
found, and, in such torrid weather, quite enough. My health is better
than in England.

Seville is a fine town, and the Sierra Morena, part of which we
crossed, a very sufficient mountain; but damn description, it is
always disgusting. Cadiz, sweet Cadiz! [1]--it is the first spot in
the creation. The beauty of its streets and mansions is only excelled
by the loveliness of its inhabitants. For, with all national
prejudice, I must confess the women of Cadiz are as far superior to
the English women in beauty as the Spaniards are inferior to the
English in every quality that dignifies the name of man. Just as I
began to know the principal persons of the city, I was obliged to
sail.

You will not expect a long letter after my riding so far "on hollow
pampered jades of Asia." Talking of Asia puts me in mind of Africa,
which is within five miles of my present residence. I am going over
before I go on to Constantinople.

Cadiz is a complete Cythera. Many of the grandees who have left Madrid
during the troubles reside there, and I do believe it is the prettiest
and cleanest town in Europe. London is filthy in the comparison. The
Spanish women are all alike, their education the same. The wife of a
duke is, in information, as the wife of a peasant,--the wife of
peasant, in manner, equal to a duchess. Certainly they are
fascinating; but their minds have only one idea, and the business of
their lives is intrigue.

I have seen Sir John Carr [2] at Seville and Cadiz, and, like Swift's
barber, have been down on my knees to beg he would not put me into
black and white [3]. Pray remember me [4] to the Drurys and the Davies,
and all of that stamp who are yet extant. Send me a letter and news to
Malta. My next epistle shall be from Mount Caucasus or Mount Sion. I
shall return to Spain before I see England, for I am enamoured of the
country. Adieu, and believe me, etc.

[Footnote 1: In 'Childe Harold' (Canto I., after stanza lxxxiv.),
instead of the song "To Inez," Byron originally wrote the song beginning

"Oh never talk again to me
Of northern climes and British ladies,
It has not been your lot to see,
Like me, the lovely girl of Cadiz."]

[Footnote 2: Sir John Carr (1772-1832), a native of Devonshire, and a
barrister of the Middle Temple, was knighted by the Duke of Bedford as
Viceroy of Ireland about 1807. He published 'The Fury of Discord, a
Poem' (1803); 'The Sea-side Hero, a Drama in 3 Acts' (1804); and
'Poems'(1809). But he is best known by his travels, which gained him the
nickname of "Jaunting Carr," and considerable profit. 'The Stranger in
France' (1803) was bought by Johnson for L100. 'A Northern Summer, or
Travels round the Baltic, etc._(1805), 'The Stranger in Ireland'
(1806), and 'A Tour through Holland_(1807), were bought for L500,
L700, and L600 respectively by Sir Richard Phillips, who, but for the
ridicule cast upon Carr by Edward Dubois (in 'My Pocket Book; or Hints
for a Ryhte Merrie and Conceited Tour in Quarto, to be called "The
Stranger in Ireland in 1805," by a Knight Errant'), would have given
L600 for his 'Caledonian Sketches' (1808). In spite, however, of this
proof of damages, the jury found, in Carr's action against Messrs. Hood
and Sharpe, the publishers of 'My Pocket Book', that the criticism was
fair and justifiable (1808). Carr published, in 1811, his 'Descriptive
Travels in the Southern and Eastern Parts of Spain', without mentioning
Byron's name. Byron concluded his MS. of 'Childe Harold', Canto I. with
three stanzas on "Green Erin's Knight and Europe's Wandering Star" (see,
for the lines, 'Childe Harold', at the end of Canto I.). In letter vii.
of 'Intercepted Letters; or the Twopenny Post-bag', by Thomas Brown the
Younger (1813), occur the following lines:--

"Since the Chevalier C--rr took to marrying lately,
The Trade is in want of a 'Traveller' greatly--
No job, Sir, more easy--your 'Country' once plann'd,
A month aboard ship and a fortnight on land
Puts your Quarto of Travels, Sir, clean out of hand."]

[Footnote 3:

"Once stopping at an inn at Dundalk, the Dean was so much amused with
a prating barber, that rather than be alone he invited him to dinner.
The fellow was rejoiced at this unexpected honour, and being dressed
out in his best apparel came to the inn, first inquiring of the groom
what the clergyman's name was who had so kindly invited him. 'What the
vengeance!' said the servant,' don't you know Dean Swift?' At which
the barber turned pale, and, running into the house, fell upon his
knees and intreated the Dean 'not to put him into print; for that he
was a poor barber, had a large family to maintain, and if his
reverence put him into black and white he should lose all his
customers.' Swift laughed heartily at the poor fellow's simplicity,
bade him sit down and eat his dinner in peace, for he assured him he
would neither put him nor his wife in print."

Sheridan's 'Life of Swift'.--(Moore).]

[Footnote 4:

"This sort of passage," says the Rev. Francis Hodgson, in a note on
his copy of this letter, "constantly occurs in his correspondence. Nor
was his interest confined to mere remembrances and inquiries after
health. Were it possible to state 'all' he has done for numerous
friends, he would appear amiable indeed. For myself, I am bound to
acknowledge, in the fullest and warmest manner, his most generous and
well-timed aid; and, were my poor friend Bland alive, he would as
gladly bear the like testimony;--though I have most reason, of all
men, to do so."

(Moore).]

128.--To his Mother.

Gibraltar, August 11th, 1809.

Dear Mother,-I have been so much occupied since my departure from
England, that till I could address you at length I have forborne
writing altogether. As I have now passed through Portugal, and a
considerable part of Spain, and have leisure at this place, I shall
endeavour to give you a short detail of my movements.

We sailed from Falmouth on the 2nd of July, reached Lisbon after a
very favourable passage of four days and a half, and took up our abode
in that city. It has been often described without being worthy of
description; for, except the view from the Tagus, which is beautiful,
and some fine churches and convents, it contains little but filthy
streets, and more filthy inhabitants. To make amends for this, the
village of Cintra, about fifteen miles from the capital, is, perhaps
in every respect, the most delightful in Europe; it contains beauties
of every description, natural and artificial. Palaces and gardens
rising in the midst of rocks, cataracts, and precipices; convents on
stupendous heights--a distant view of the sea and the Tagus; and,
besides (though that is a secondary consideration), is remarkable as
the scene of Sir Hew Dalrymple's Convention.[1] It unites in itself
all the wildness of the western highlands, with the verdure of the
south of France. Near this place, about ten miles to the right, is the
palace of Mafra, the boast of Portugal, as it might be of any other
country, in point of magnificence without elegance. There is a convent
annexed; the monks, who possess large revenues, are courteous enough,
and understand Latin, so that we had a long conversation: they have a
large library, and asked me if the _English_ had _any books_ in their
country?

I sent my baggage, and part of the servants, by sea to Gibraltar, and
travelled on horseback from Aldea Galbega (the first stage from
Lisbon, which is only accessible by water) to Seville (one of the most
famous cities in Spain), where the Government called the Junta is now
held. The distance to Seville is nearly four hundred miles, and to
Cadiz almost ninety farther towards the coast. I had orders from the
governments, and every possible accommodation on the road, as an
English nobleman, in an English uniform, is a very respectable
personage in Spain at present. The horses are remarkably good, and the
roads (I assure you upon my honour, for you will hardly believe it)
very far superior to the best English roads, without the smallest toll
or turnpike. You will suppose this when I rode post to Seville, in
four days, through this parching country in the midst of summer,
without fatigue or annoyance.

Seville is a beautiful town; though the streets are narrow, they are
clean. We lodged in the house of two Spanish unmarried ladies, who
possess _six_ houses in Seville, and gave me a curious specimen of
Spanish manners. They are women of character, and the eldest a fine
woman, the youngest pretty, but not so good a figure as Donna Josepha.
The freedom of manner, which is general here, astonished me not a
little; and in the course of further observation, I find that reserve
is not the characteristic of the Spanish belles, who are, in general,
very handsome, with large black eyes, and very fine forms. The eldest
honoured your _unworthy_ son with very particular attention, embracing
him with great tenderness at parting (I was there but three days),
after cutting off a lock of his hair, and presenting him with one of
her own, about three feet in length, which I send, and beg you will
retain till my return. Her last words were, _Adios, tu hermoso! me
gusto mucho_--"Adieu, you pretty fellow! you please me much." She
offered me a share of her apartment, which my _virtue_ induced me to
decline; she laughed, and said I had some English _amante_ (lover),
and added that she was going to be married to an officer in the
Spanish army.

I left Seville, and rode on to Cadiz, through a beautiful country. At
_Xeres_, where the sherry we drink is made, I met a great merchant--a
Mr. Gordon of Scotland--who was extremely polite, and favoured me with
the inspection of his vaults and cellars, so that I quaffed at the
fountain head.

Cadiz, sweet Cadiz, is the most delightful town I ever beheld, very
different from our English cities in every respect except cleanliness
(and it is as clean as London), but still beautiful, and full of the
finest women in Spain, the Cadiz belles being the Lancashire witches
of their land. Just as I was introduced and began to like the
grandees, I was forced to leave it for this cursed place; but before I
return to England I will visit it again. The night before I left it, I
sat in the box at the opera with Admiral Cordova's family; [2] he is
the commander whom Lord St. Vincent defeated in 1797, and has an aged
wife and a fine daughter, Sennorita Cordova. The girl is very pretty,
in the Spanish style; in my opinion, by no means inferior to the
English in charms, and certainly superior in fascination. Long black
hair, dark languishing eyes, _clear_ olive complexions, and forms more
graceful in motion than can be conceived by an Englishman used to the
drowsy, listless air of his countrywomen, added to the most becoming
dress, and, at the same time, the most decent in the world, render a
Spanish beauty irresistible.

I beg leave to observe that intrigue here is the business of life;
when a woman marries she throws off all restraint, but I believe their
conduct is chaste enough before. If you make a proposal, which in
England will bring a box on the ear from the meekest of virgins, to a
Spanish girl, she thanks you for the honour you intend her, and
replies, "Wait till I am married, and I shall be too happy." This is
literally and strictly true.

Miss Cordova and her little brother understood a little French, and,
after regretting my ignorance of the Spanish, she proposed to become
my preceptress in that language. I could only reply by a low bow, and
express my regret that I quitted Cadiz too soon to permit me to make
the progress which would doubtless attend my studies under so charming
a directress. I was standing at the back of the box, which resembles
our Opera boxes, (the theatre is large and finely decorated, the music
admirable,) in the manner which Englishmen generally adopt, for fear
of incommoding the ladies in front, when this fair Spaniard
dispossessed an old woman (an aunt or a duenna) of her chair, and
commanded me to be seated next herself, at a tolerable distance from
her mamma. At the close of the performance I withdrew, and was
lounging with a party of men in the passage, when, _en passant,_ the
lady turned round and called me, and I had the honour of attending her
to the admiral's mansion. I have an invitation on my return to Cadiz,
which I shall accept if I repass through the country on my return from
Asia. [3]

I have met Sir John Carr, Knight Errant, at Seville and Cadiz. He is a
pleasant man. I like the Spaniards much. You have heard of the battle
near Madrid, [4] and in England they would call it a victory--a pretty
victory! Two hundred officers and five thousand men killed, all
English, and the French in as great force as ever. I should have
joined the army, but we have no time to lose before we get up the
Mediterranean and Archipelago. I am going over to Africa tomorrow; it
is only six miles from this fortress. My next stage is Cagliari in
Sardinia, where I shall be presented to His Majesty. I have a most
superb uniform as a court dress, indispensable in travelling.

_August 13._--I have not yet been to Africa--the wind is contrary--but
I dined yesterday at Algesiras, with Lady Westmorland, [5] where I met
General Castanos, the celebrated Spanish leader in the late and
present war. To-day I dine with him. He has offered me letters to
Tetuan in Barbary, for the principal Moors, and I am to have the house
for a few days of one of the great men, which was intended for Lady
W., whose health will not permit her to cross the Straits.

_August 15_.--I could not dine with Castanos [6] yesterday, but this
afternoon I had that honour. He is pleasant and, for aught I know to
the contrary, clever. I cannot go to Barbary. The Malta packet sails
to-morrow, and myself in it. Admiral Purvis, with whom I dined at
Cadiz, gave me a passage in a frigate to Gibraltar, but we have no
ship of war destined for Malta at present. The packets sail fast, and
have good accommodation. You shall hear from me on our route.

Joe Murray delivers this; I have sent him and the boy back. Pray show
the lad kindness, as he is my great favourite; I would have taken him
on. And say this to his father, who may otherwise think he has behaved
ill. I hope this will find you well. Believe me,

Yours ever sincerely,

BYRON.

P.S.--So Lord G----[7] is married to a rustic. Well done! If I wed, I
will bring home a Sultana, with half a dozen cities for a dowry, and
reconcile you to an Ottoman daughter-in-law, with a bushel of pearls
not larger than ostrich eggs, or smaller than walnuts.

[Footnote 1: Sir Hew Whitefoord Dalrymple (1750-1830) took command of
the British forces in the Peninsular War, August 22, 1808, and signed
the Convention of Cintra (August 31), by which Junot, whom Sir Arthur
Wellesley had defeated at Vimeira, evacuated Portugal, and surrendered
Elvas and Lisbon. The Convention was approved by a court of general
officers ordered to sit at Chelsea Hospital; but Dalrymple never again
obtained a command.

The so-called Convention of Cintra was signed at the palace of the
Marquis de Marialva, thirty miles distant.]

[Footnote 2: Admiral Cordova commanded the Spanish Fleet, defeated,
February 14, 1797, off Cape St. Vincent, by Sir John Jervis, afterwards
Earl St. Vincent.]

[Footnote 3: To these adventures in his hasty passage through Spain
Byron briefly alludes in the early part of his _Memoranda._

"For some time," he said, "I went on prosperously both as a linguist
and a lover, till at length the lady took a fancy to a ring which I
wore, and set her heart on my giving it to her, as a pledge of my
sincerity. This, however, could not be:--any thing but the ring, I
declared, was at her service, and much more than its value,--but the
ring itself I had made a vow never to give away." The young Spaniard
grew angry as the contention went on, and it was not long before the
lover became angry also; till, at length, the affair ended by their
separating. "Soon after this," said he, "I sailed for Malta, and there
parted with both my heart and ring."

('Life', p.93). He also alludes to the incident in 'Don Juan', Canto II,
stanza clxiv.--

"'Tis pleasing to be school'd in a strange tongue
By female lips and eyes--that is, I mean,
When both the teacher and the taught are young,
As was the case, at least, where I have been,"

etc.]

[Footnote 4: The battle of Talavera, July 27 and 28, 1809, in which Sir
Arthur Wellesley defeated Marshal Victor. In Cuesta's despatch to the
Spanish Government, dated Seville, August 7, the British loss is
mentioned as 260 officers and 5000 men.]

[Footnote 5: Lady Westmorland, _nee_ Jane Saunders, daughter of Dr. R.
H. Saunders, married, in 1800, as his second wife, John, tenth Earl of
Westmorland (1759-1841). At her house Lady Caroline Lamb refused to be
introduced to Byron (_Life of Lord Melbourne,_ vol. i. p.103).

[Footnote 6: General Francisco de Castanos, Duke of Baylen (1758-1852)
defeated General Dupont at Baylen in 1808, and distinguished himself at
Vittoria in 1813. He was guardian to Queen Isabella in 1843.]

[Footnote 7: Lord Grey de Ruthyn. (See page 23 [Letter 8], [Foot]note 1.)]

129.--To Mr. Rushton.

Gibraltar, August 15, 1809.

Mr. Rushton,--I have sent Robert home with Mr. Murray, because the
country which I am about to travel through is in a state which renders
it unsafe, particularly for one so young. I allow you to deduct
five-and-twenty pounds a year for his education for three years,
provided I do not return before that time, and I desire he may be
considered as in my service. Let every care be taken of him, and let
him be sent to school. In case of my death I have provided enough in
my will to render him independent. He has behaved extremely well, and
has travelled a great deal for the time of his absence. Deduct the
expense of his education from your rent.

BYRON.

130.--To his Mother.

Malta, September 15, 1809.

Dear Mother,--Though I have a very short time to spare, being to sail
immediately for Greece, I cannot avoid taking an opportunity of
telling you that I am well. I have been in Malta [1] a short time, and
have found the inhabitants hospitable and pleasant.

This letter is committed to the charge of a very extraordinary woman,
whom you have doubtless heard of, Mrs. Spencer Smith, of whose escape
the Marquis de Salvo published a narrative a few years ago. [2] She
has since been shipwrecked, and her life has been from its
commencement so fertile in remarkable incidents, that in a romance
they would appear improbable. She was born at Constantinople, where
her father, Baron Herbert, was Austrian Ambassador; married unhappily,
yet has never been impeached in point of character; excited the
vengeance of Buonaparte by a part in some conspiracy; several times
risked her life; and is not yet twenty-five. She is here on her way to
England, to join her husband, being obliged to leave Trieste, where
she was paying a visit to her mother, by the approach of the French,
and embarks soon in a ship of war. Since my arrival here, I have had
scarcely any other companion. I have found her very pretty, very
accomplished, and extremely eccentric. Buonaparte is even now so
incensed against her, that her life would be in some danger if she
were taken prisoner a second time.

You have seen Murray and Robert by this time, and received my letter.
Little has happened since that date. I have touched at Cagliari in
Sardinia, and at Girgenti in Sicily, and embark to-morrow for Patras,
from whence I proceed to Yanina, where Ali Pacha holds his court. So I
shall soon be among the Mussulmans. Adieu. Believe me, with sincerity,
yours ever,

BYRON.

[Footnote 1: At Gibraltar, John Galt, who was travelling for his health,
met Byron, whom he did not know by sight, but by whose appearance he was
attracted.

"His dress indicated a Londoner of some fashion, partly by its
neatness and simplicity, with just so much of a peculiarity of style
as served to show that, although he belonged to the order of
metropolitan beaux, he was not altogether a common one ... His
physiognomy was prepossessing and intelligent, but ever and anon his
brows lowered and gathered--a habit, as I then thought, with a degree
of affectation in it, probably first assumed for picturesque effect
and energetic expression, but which I afterwards discovered was
undoubtedly the scowl of some unpleasant reminiscence; it was
certainly disagreeable, forbidding, but still the general cast of his
features was impressed with elegance and character."

Afterwards Galt was a fellow-passenger on board the packet from
Gibraltar to Malta.

"In the little bustle and process of embarking their luggage, his
Lordship affected, as it seemed to me, more aristocracy than befitted
his years, or the occasion; and then I thought of his singular scowl,
and suspected him of pride and irascibility. The impression that
evening was not agreeable, but it was interesting; and that forehead
mark, the frown, was calculated to awaken curiosity, and beget
conjectures ... Byron held himself aloof, and sat on the rail, leaning
on the mizzen shrouds, inhaling, as it were, poetical sympathy from
the gloomy rock, then dark and stern in the twilight. There was, in
all about him that evening, much waywardness. He spoke petulantly to
Fletcher, his valet, and was evidently ill at ease with himself, and
fretful towards others. I thought he would turn out an unsatisfactory
shipmate; yet there was something redeeming in the tones of his voice,
and when, some time after having indulged his sullen meditation he
again addressed Fletcher; so that, instead of finding him ill-natured,
I was soon convinced he was only capricious."

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