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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[Footnote 6: Hobhouse's letter to Byron of July 31, 1810, ends with the
following postscript:--

"I kept the half of your little nosegay till it withered entirely, and
even then I could not bear to throw it away. I can't account for this,
nor can you either, I dare say."]

[Footnote 7: Lord Grizzle, in Fielding's 'Tom Thumb', is the first peer
in the Court of King Arthur, who, jealous of Tom Thumb and in love with
the Princess Huncamunca, turns traitor, and is run through the body by
Tom Thumb. It is the ghost, not Grizzle, who says, "I can no more." (See
page 226 [Letter 124], [Foot]note 1.)]

150.--To Francis Hodgson.

Athens, November 14, 1810.

MY DEAR HODGSON,--This will arrive with an English servant whom I send
homewards with some papers of consequence. I have been journeying in
different parts of Greece for these last four months, and you may
expect me in England somewhere about April, but this is very dubious.
Hobhouse you have doubtless seen; he went home in August to arrange
materials for a tour he talks of publishing. You will find him well
and scribbling--that is, scribbling if well, and well if scribbling.

I suppose you have a score of new works, all of which I hope to see
flourishing, with a hecatomb of reviews. _My_ works are likely to have
a powerful effect with a vengeance, as I hear of divers angry people,
whom it is proper I should shoot at, by way of satisfaction. Be it so,
the same impulse which made "Otho a warrior" will make me one also. My
domestic affairs being moreover considerably deranged, my appetite for
travelling pretty well satiated with my late peregrinations, my
various hopes in this world almost extinct, and not very brilliant in
the next, I trust I shall go through the process with a creditable
_sang froid_ and not disgrace a line of cut-throat ancestors.

I regret in one of your letters to hear you talk of domestic
embarrassments, [1] indeed I am at present very well calculated to
sympathise with you on that point. I suppose I must take to
dram-drinking as a _succedaneum_ for philosophy, though as I am
happily not married, I have very little occasion for either just yet.

Talking of marriage puts me in mind of Drury, who I suppose has a
dozen children by this time, all fine fretful brats; I will never
forgive Matrimony for having spoiled such an excellent Bachelor. If
anybody honours my name with an inquiry tell them of "my whereabouts"
and write if you like it. I am living alone in the Franciscan
monastery with one "fri_ar_" (a Capuchin of course) and one "fri_er_"
(a bandy-legged Turkish cook), two Albanian savages, a Tartar, and a
Dragoman. My only Englishman departs with this and other letters. The
day before yesterday the Waywode (or Governor of Athens) with the
Mufti of Thebes (a sort of Mussulman Bishop) supped here and made
themselves beastly with raw rum, and the Padre of the convent being as
drunk as _we_, my _Attic_ feast went off with great _eclat_. I have
had a present of a stallion from the Pacha of the Morea. I caught a
fever going to Olympia. I was blown ashore on the Island of Salamis,
in my way to Corinth through the Gulf of AEgina. I have kicked an
Athenian postmaster, I have a friendship with the French consul [2]
and an Italian painter, and am on good terms with five Teutones and
Cimbri, Danes and Germans, [2] who are travelling for an Academy.
Vale!

Yours, [Greek: Mpair_on] [3]

[Footnote 1: Hodgson's father, Rector of Barwick-in-Elmet, Yorkshire,
died in October, 1810, heavily in debt. Francis Hodgson undertook
to satisfy the claims of his father's creditors ('Life of the Rev. Francis
Hodgson', vol. i. pp. 147, 148).]

[Footnote 2: M. Fauriel, the French Consul: Lusieri, an Italian artist
employed by Lord Elgin; Nicolo Giraud, from whom Byron learned Italian,
and to whose sister Lusieri proposed; Baron Haller, a Bavarian
'savant'; and Dr. Bronstett, of Copenhagen, were among his friends
at Athens.]

[Footnote 3: The signature represents "Byron" in modern Greek, [Greek:
Mp] being the correct transliteration of 'B'.]

151.--To his Mother.

Athens, January 14, 1811.

My Dear Madam,--I seize an occasion to write as usual, shortly, but
frequently, as the arrival of letters, where there exists no regular
communication, is, of course, very precarious. I have lately made
several small tours of some hundred or two miles about the Morea,
Attica, etc., as I have finished my grand giro by the Troad,
Constantinople, etc., and am returned down again to Athens. I believe
I have mentioned to you more than once that I swam (in imitation of
Leander, though without his lady) across the Hellespont, from Sestos
to Abydos. Of this, and all other particulars, Fletcher, whom I have
sent home with papers, etc., will apprise you. I cannot find that he
is any loss; being tolerably master of the Italian and modern Greek
languages, which last I am also studying with a master, I can order
and discourse more than enough for a reasonable man. Besides, the
perpetual lamentations after beef and beer, the stupid, bigoted
contempt for every thing foreign, and insurmountable incapacity of
acquiring even a few words of any language, rendered him, like all
other English servants, an incumbrance. I do assure you, the plague of
speaking for him, the comforts he required (more than myself by far),
the pilaws (a Turkish dish of rice and meat) which he could not eat,
the wines which he could not drink, the beds where he could not sleep,
and the long list of calamities, such as stumbling horses, want of
_tea!!!_ etc., which assailed him, would have made a lasting source of
laughter to a spectator, and inconvenience to a master. After all, the
man is honest enough, and, in Christendom, capable enough; but in
Turkey, Lord forgive me! my Albanian soldiers, my Tartars and
Jannissary, worked for him and us too, as my friend Hobhouse can
testify.

It is probable I may steer homewards in spring; but to enable me to do
that, I must have remittances. My own funds would have lasted me very
well; but I was obliged to assist a friend, who, I know, will pay me;
but, in the mean time, I am out of pocket. At present, I do not care
to venture a winter's voyage, even if I were otherwise tired of
travelling; but I am so convinced of the advantages of looking at
mankind instead of reading about them, and the bitter effects of
staying at home with all the narrow prejudices of an islander, that I
think there should be a law amongst us, to set our young men abroad,
for a term, among the few allies our wars have left us.

Here I see and have conversed with French, Italians, Germans, Danes,
Greeks, Turks, Americans, etc., etc., etc.; and without losing sight
of my own, I can judge of the countries and manners of others. Where I
see the superiority of England (which, by the by, we are a good deal
mistaken about in many things), I am pleased, and where I find her
inferior, I am at least enlightened. Now, I might have stayed, smoked
in your towns, or fogged in your country, a century, without being
sure of this, and without acquiring any thing more useful or amusing
at home. I keep no journal, nor have I any intention of scribbling my
travels. I have done with authorship, and if, in my last production, I
have convinced the critics or the world I was something more than they
took me for, I am satisfied; nor will I hazard _that reputation_ by a
future effort. It is true I have some others in manuscript, but I
leave them for those who come after me; and, if deemed worth
publishing, they may serve to prolong my memory when I myself shall
cease to remember. I have a famous Bavarian artist taking some views
of Athens, etc., etc., for me. This will be better than scribbling, a
disease I hope myself cured of. I hope, on my return, to lead a quiet,
recluse life, but God knows and does best for us all; at least, so
they say, and I have nothing to object, as, on the whole, I have no
reason to complain of my lot. I am convinced, however, that men do
more harm to themselves than ever the devil could do to them. I trust
this will find you well, and as happy as we can be; you will, at
least, be pleased to hear I am so, and

Yours ever.

152.--To his Mother.

Athens, February 28, 1811.

DEAR MADAM,--As I have received a firman for Egypt, etc., I shall
proceed to that quarter in the spring, and I beg you will state to Mr.
Hanson that it is necessary to [send] further remittances. On the
subject of Newstead, I answer as before, _No_. If it is necessary to
sell, sell Rochdale. Fletcher will have arrived by this time with my
letters to that purport. I will tell you fairly, I have, in the first
place, no opinion of funded property; if, by any particular
circumstances, I shall be led to adopt such a determination, I will,
at all events, pass my life abroad, as my only tie to England is
Newstead, and, that once gone, neither interest nor inclination lead
me northward. Competence in your country is ample wealth in the East,
such is the difference in the value of money and the abundance of the
necessaries of life; and I feel myself so much a citizen of the world,
that the spot where I can enjoy a delicious climate, and every luxury,
at a less expense than a common college life in England, will always
be a country to me; and such are in fact the shores of the
Archipelago. This then is the alternative--if I preserve Newstead, I
return; if I sell it, I stay away. I have had no letters since yours
of June, but I have written several times, and shall continue, as
usual, on the same plan.

Believe me, yours ever, BYRON.

P.S.--I shall most likely see you in the course of the summer, but, of
course, at such a distance, I cannot specify any particular month.

153.--To his Mother.

'Volage' frigate, at sea, June 25, 1811.

DEAR MOTHER,--This letter, which will be forwarded on our arrival at
Portsmouth, probably about the 4th of July, is begun about
twenty-three days after our departure from Malta. I have just been two
years (to a day, on the 2d of July) absent from England, and I return
to it with much the same feelings which prevailed on my departure,
viz. indifference; but within that apathy I certainly do not comprise
yourself, as I will prove by every means in my power. You will be good
enough to get my apartments ready at Newstead; but don't disturb
yourself, on any account, particularly mine, nor consider me in any
other light than as a visiter. I must only inform you that for a long
time I have been restricted to an entire vegetable diet, neither fish
nor flesh coming within my regimen; so I expect a powerful stock of
potatoes, greens, and biscuit; I drink no wine. I have two servants,
middle-aged men, and both Greeks. It is my intention to proceed first
to town, to see Mr. Hanson, and thence to Newstead, on my way to
Rochdale. I have only to beg you will not forget my diet, which it is
very necessary for me to observe. I am well in health, as I have
generally been, with the exception of two agues, both of which I
quickly got over.

My plans will so much depend on circumstances, that I shall not
venture to lay down an opinion on the subject. My prospects are not
very promising, but I suppose we shall wrestle through life like our
neighbours; indeed, by Hanson's last advices, I have some apprehension
of finding Newstead dismantled by Messrs. Brothers,[1] etc., and he
seems determined to force me into selling it, but he will be baffled.
I don't suppose I shall be much pestered with visiters; but if I am,
you must receive them, for I am determined to have nobody breaking in
upon my retirement: you know that I never was fond of society, and I
am less so than before. I have brought you a shawl, and a quantity of
attar of roses, but these I must smuggle, if possible. I trust to find
my library in tolerable order.

Fletcher is no doubt arrived. I shall separate the mill from Mr. B--'s
farm, for his son is too gay a deceiver to inherit both, and place
Fletcher in it, who has served me faithfully, and whose wife is a good
woman; besides, it is necessary to sober young Mr. B--, or he will
people the parish with bastards. In a word, if he had seduced a
dairy-maid, he might have found something like an apology; but the
girl is his equal, and in high life or low life reparation is made in
such circumstances. But I shall not interfere further than (like
Buonaparte) by dismembering Mr. B.'s _kingdom_, and erecting part of
it into a principality for field-marshal Fletcher! I hope you govern
my little _empire_ and its sad load of national debt with a wary hand.
To drop my metaphor, I beg leave to subscribe myself

Yours ever, BYRON.

P.S. July 14.--This letter was written to be sent from Portsmouth,
but, on arriving there, the squadron was ordered to the Nore, from
whence I shall forward it. This I have not done before, supposing you
might be alarmed by the interval mentioned in the letter being longer
than expected between our arrival in port and my appearance at
Newstead.

[Footnote 1: Brothers, an upholsterer of Nottingham, had put in an
execution at Newstead for L1600.]

154.--To R. C. Dallas.

_Volage_ Frigate, at sea, June 28, 1811.

After two years' absence (to a day, on the 2d of July, before which we
shall not arrive at Portsmouth), I am retracing my way to England. I
have, as you know, spent the greater part of that period in Turkey,
except two months in Spain and Portugal, which were then accessible. I
have seen every thing most remarkable in Turkey, particularly the
Troad, Greece, Constantinople, and Albania, into which last region
very few have penetrated so high as Hobhouse and myself. I don't know
that I have done anything to distinguish me from other voyagers,
unless you will reckon my swimming from Sestos to Abydos, on May 3d,
1810, a tolerable feat for a _modern_.

I am coming back with little prospect of pleasure at home, and with a
body a little shaken by one or two smart fevers, but a spirit I hope
yet unbroken. My affairs, it seems, are considerably involved, and
much business must be done with lawyers, colliers, farmers, and
creditors. Now this, to a man who hates bustle as he hates a bishop,
is a serious concern. But enough of my home department.

I find I have been scolding Cawthorn without a cause, as I found two
parcels with two letters from you on my return to Malta. By these it
appears you have not received a letter from Constantinople, addressed
to Longman's, but it was of no consequence.

My Satire, it seems, is in a fourth edition, a success rather above
the middling run, but not much for a production which, from its
topics, must be temporary, and of course be successful at first, or
not at all. At this period, when I can think and act more coolly, I
regret that I have written it, though I shall probably find it
forgotten by all except those whom it has offended. My friend
Hobhouse's _Miscellany_ has not succeeded; but he himself writes so
good-humouredly on the subject, I don't know whether to laugh or cry
with him. He met with your son at Cadiz, of whom he speaks highly.

Yours and Pratt's [1] _protege_, Blacket, [2] the cobbler, is dead, in
spite of his rhymes, and is probably one of the instances where death
has saved a man from damnation. You were the ruin of that poor fellow
amongst you: had it not been for his patrons, he might now have been
in very good plight, shoe- (not verse-) making; but you have made him
immortal with a vengeance. I write this, supposing poetry, patronage,
and strong waters, to have been the death of him. If you are in town
in or about the beginning of July, you will find me at Dorant's, in
Albemarle Street, glad to see you.[1] I have an imitation of Horace's
_Art of Poetry_ ready for Cawthorn, but don't let that deter you, for
I sha'n't inflict it upon you. You know I never read my rhymes to
visiters. I shall quit town in a few days for Notts., and thence to
Rochdale. I shall send this the moment we arrive in harbour, that is a
week hence.

Yours ever sincerely, BYRON.

[Footnote 1: For Pratt, see page 186, note 1.]

[Footnote 2: Joseph Blacket (1786-1810) has his place in 'English Bards'
(lines 765, 798) and 'Hints from Horace' (line 734). The son of a
labourer, and himself by trade a cobbler, he wrote verses in which Pratt
saw signs of genius. A volume of his poetry was published in 1809, under
the title of 'Specimens', edited by Pratt. Among those who befriended
him were Elliston the actor, Dallas, and Miss Milbanke, afterwards Lady
Byron (see 'English Bards', lines 770, and note 1). His 'Remains' were
collected and published by Pratt in 1811 for the benefit of Blacket's
orphan daughter, with a dedication to "the Duchess of Leeds, Lady
Milbanke and family" (see page 337, and 'Hints from Horace', line 734,
and Byron's note). In the suppressed edition of Dallas's
'Correspondence of Lord Byron' (pp. 127, 128) occurs the following
passage, from which, if Dallas's grammar is to be trusted, it seems that
the famous epitaph on Blacket was not Byron's composition. Dallas

"was persuaded by Mr. Pratt's warmth to see some sparkling of genius
in the effusions of this young man (Blacket). It was upon this that
Lord Byron and a young friend of his were sometimes playful in
conversation, and in writing to me. 'I see,' says the latter, 'that
Blacket the Son of Crispin and Apollo is dead.' Looking into Boswell's
'Life of Johnson' the other day, I saw, 'We were talking about the
famous Mr. Wordsworth, the poetical Shoemaker.' Now, I never before
heard that there had been a Mr. Wordsworth a Poet, a Shoemaker, or a
famous man; and I dare say you have never heard of him. Thus it will
be with Bloomfield and Blackett--their names two years after their
death will be found neither on the rolls of Curriers' Hall nor of
Parnassus. Who would think that anybody would be such a blockhead as
to sin against an express proverb, 'Ne sutor ultra crepidam'?

'But spare him, ye Critics, his follies are past,
For the Cobler is come, as he ought, to his 'last'.'

Which two lines, with a scratch under 'last', to show where the joke
lies, I beg that you will prevail on Miss Milbanke to have inserted on
the tomb of her departed Blacket."

It should be added that the shoemaking poet was not Wordsworth, but
Woodhouse.]

[Footnote 3: Dallas called on Byron at Reddish's Hotel, St. James's
Street, July 15, 1811, and received from him the MS. of 'Hints from
Horace'. Byron finished the work March 12, 1811, at the Franciscan
Convent at Athens, where he found a copy of the 'De Arte Poetica'.
('Hints from Horace' were not, however, published till 1831.) On July 16
Dallas called again, and expressed surprise that Byron had written
nothing else. Byron then produced out of his trunk 'Childe Harold's
Pilgrimage', saying, "They are not worth troubling you with, but you
shall have them all with you if you like." He was as reluctant to
publish 'Childe Harold' as he was eager to publish 'Hints from Horace'.]

155.--To Francis Hodgson.

'Volage' Frigate, at sea, June 29, 1811.

In a week, with a fair wind, we shall be at Portsmouth, and on the 2d
of July I shall have completed (to a day) two years of peregrination,
from which I am returning with as little emotion as I set out. I
think, upon the whole, I was more grieved at leaving Greece than
England, which I am impatient to see, simply because I am tired of a
long voyage.

Indeed, my prospects are not very pleasant. Embarrassed in my private
affairs, indifferent to public, solitary without the wish to be
social, with a body a little enfeebled by a succession of fevers, but
a spirit I trust, yet unbroken, I am returning _home_ without a hope,
and almost without a desire. The first thing I shall have to encounter
will be a lawyer, the next a creditor, then colliers, farmers,
surveyors, and all the agreeable attachments to estates out of repair,
and contested coal-pits. In short, I am sick and sorry, and when I
have a little repaired my irreparable affairs, away I shall march,
either to campaign in Spain, or back again to the East, where I can at
least have cloudless skies and a cessation from impertinence.

I trust to meet, or see you, in town, or at Newstead, whenever you can
make it convenient--I suppose you are in love and in poetry as usual.
That husband, H. Drury, has never written to me, albeit I have sent
him more than one letter;--but I dare say the poor man has a family,
and of course all his cares are confined to his circle.

"For children fresh expenses yet,
And Dicky now for school is fit."

WARTON. [1]

If you see him, tell him I have a letter for him from Tucker, a
regimental chirurgeon and friend of his, who prescribed for me,----
and is a very worthy man, but too fond of hard words. I should be too
late for a speech-day, or I should probably go down to Harrow. I
regretted very much in Greece having omitted to carry the _Anthology_
with me--I mean Bland and Merivale's.--What has _Sir Edgar_ done? And
the _Imitations and Translations_--where are they? I suppose you don't
mean to let the public off so easily, but charge them home with a
quarto. For me, I am "sick of fops, and poesy, and prate," and shall
leave the "whole Castalian state" to Bufo, or any body else. [2] But
you are a sentimental and sensibilitous person, and will rhyme to the
end of the chapter. Howbeit, I have written some 4000 lines, of one
kind or another, on my travels.

I need not repeat that I shall be happy to see you. I shall be in town
about the 8th, at Dorant's Hotel, in Albemarle Street, and proceed in
a few days to Notts., and thence to Rochdale on business.

I am, here and there, yours, etc.

[Footnote 1: Warton's 'Progress of Discontent', lines 109, 110.]

[Footnote 2:

"But sick of fops, and poetry, and prate,
To Bufo left the whole Castalian state."

Pope, 'Prologue to the Satires', lines 229, 230.]

156.--To Henry Drury.

'Volage' frigate, off Ushant, July 17, 1811.

My Dear Drury,--After two years' absence (on the 2d) and some odd days,
I am approaching your country. The day of our arrival you will see by
the outside date of my letter. At present, we are becalmed comfortably,
close to Brest Harbour;--I have never been so near it since I left Duck
Puddle. [1] We left Malta thirty-four days ago, and have had a tedious
passage of it. You will either see or hear from or of me, soon after the
receipt of this, as I pass through town to repair my irreparable
affairs; and thence I want to go to Notts. and raise rents, and to
Lanes. and sell collieries, and back to London and pay debts,--for it
seems I shall neither have coals nor comfort till I go down to Rochdale
in person.

I have brought home some marbles for Hobhouse;--for myself, four
ancient Athenian skulls, [2] dug out of sarcophagi--a phial of Attic
hemlock [3]--four live tortoises--a greyhound (died on the
passage)--two live Greek servants, one an Athenian, t'other a _Yaniote_,
who can speak nothing but Romaic and Italian--and _myself_, as Moses in
the _Vicar of Wakefield_ says, _slily_ [4] and I may say it too, for I
have as little cause to boast of my expedition as he had of his to the
fair.

I wrote to you from the Cyanean Rocks to tell you I had swam from Sestos
to Abydos--have you received my letter? Hobhouse went to England to fish
up his _Miscellany,_ which foundered (so he tells me) in the Gulph of
Lethe. I daresay it capsized with the vile goods of his contributory
friends, for his own share was very portable. However, I hope he will
either weigh up or set sail with a fresh cargo, and a luckier vessel.
Hodgson, I suppose, is four deep by this time. What would he have given
to have seen, like me, the _real Parnassus,_ where I robbed the Bishop
of Chrisso of a book of geography!--but this I only call plagiarism, as
it was done within an hour's ride of Delphi.

[Footnote 1: The swimming-bath at Harrow.]

[Footnote 2: Given afterwards to Sir Walter Scott.]

[Footnote 3: At present in the possession of Mr. Murray.]

[Footnote 4:

"'Welcome, welcome, Moses! Well, my boy, what have you brought us from
the fair?'

'I have brought you _myself_,' cried Moses, with a sly look, and
resting the box on the dresser."

'Vicar of Wakefield', ch. xii.]

157.-To his Mother.

Reddish's Hotel, St. James's Street, London, July 23, 1811.

MY DEAR MADAM,--I am only detained by Mr. Hanson to sign some copyhold
papers, and will give you timely notice of my approach. It is with
great reluctance I remain in town. [1] I shall pay a short visit as we
go on to Lancashire on Rochdale business. I shall attend to your
directions, of course, and am, with great respect, yours ever,

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