[TO LADY MELBOURNE] Jany. 13th, 1814

My dear Ly. M[elbourn]e.--I do not see how you could well have said less--and that I am not angry may be proved by my saying a word more on ye. subject.--You are quite mistaken however as to her--and it must be from some misrepresentation of mine that you throw the blame so completely on the side least deserving and least able to bear it--I dare say I made the best of my own story as one always does from natural selfishness without intending it--but it was not her fault--but my own folly (give it what name may suit it better) and her weakness--for--the intentions of both were very different and for some time adhered to--& when not it was entirely my own--in short I know no name for my own conduct.--Pray do not speak so harshly of her to me--the cause of all------I wrote to you yesterday on other subjects and particularly C[aroline]----As to manner--mine is the same to anyone I know or like--and I am almost sure less marked to her than to you--besides any constraint or reserve would appear much more extraordinary than the reverse--until something more than manner is ascertainable.--Nevertheless I heartily wish Me. de Stael at the Devil--with her observations--I am certain I did not see her--and she might as well have had something else to do with her eyes than to observe people at so respectful a distance.------So "Ph [Frances Webster] is out of my thoughts"--in the first place if she were out of them--she had probably not found a place in my words--and in the next--she has no claim--if people will stop at the first tense of the verb "aimer" they must not be surprised if one finishes the conjugation with somebody else.--"How soon I get the better of"--in the name of St. Francis and his wife of Snow--and Pygmalion & his statue what was there here to get the better of?--a few kisses for which she was no worse--and I no better.----Had the event been different--so would my subsequent resolutions & feelings--for I am neither ungrateful--nor at all disposed to be disappointed--on the contrary I do firmly believe--that I have often only begun to love--at the very time I have heard people say that some dispositions become indifferent.--------Besides--her fool of a husband--and my own recent good resolutions--and a mixture of different piques and mental stimulants together with something not unlike encouragement on her part--led me into that foolish business--out of which the way is quite easy--and I really do not see that I have much to reproach myself with on her account--if you think differently pray say so.--As to Mrs. C[haworth-Musters] I will go--but I don't see any good that can result from it--certainly none to me--but I have no right to consider myself.--When I say this I merely allude to uncomfortable feelings--for there is neither chance nor fear of anything else--for she is a very good girl--and I am too much dispirited to rise even to admiration.--I do verily believe--you hope otherwise as a means of improving me but I am sunk in my own estimation--and care of course very little for that of others.----As to Ph--she will end as all women in her situation do--it is impossible she can care about a man who acted so weakly as I did with regard to herself.----What a fool I am--I have been interrupted by a visitor who is just gone--& have been laughing this half hour at a thousand absurdities as if I had nothing serious to think about.--

yrs. ever
B

P.S.--Another epistle from M[ary Chaworth-Musters]--my answer must be under cover to "dear friend" who is doing or suffering a folly--what can she Miss R[adford] be about?--the only thing that could make it look ill--is mystery--I wrote to her and franked--thinking there was no need of concealment--and indeed conceiving the affectation of it an impertinence.--but she desires me not--and I obey--I suspect R[adford] of wishing to make a scene between him & me out of dislike to both--but that shall not prevent me from going a moment--I shall leave town on Sunday.------

[page missing?] pantomime I don't think I laughed once save in soliloquy for ten days--which you who know me won't believe (every one else thinks me the most gloomy of existences) we used to sit & look at one another--except in duetto & then even our serious nonsense was not fluent--to be sure our gestures were rather more sensible the most amusing part was the interchange of notes--for we sat up all night scribbling to each other--& came down like Ghosts in the morning--I shall never forget the quiet manner in which she would pass her epistles in a music book--or any book--looking in----[Webster]'s face with great tranquillity the whole time--& taking mine in the same way--once she offered one as I was leading her to dinner at N[ewstead]--all the servants before--& W[ebster] & sister close behind--to take it was impossible and how she was to retain it without pockets--was equally perplexing--I had the cover of a letter from Claughton in mine--and gave it to her saying "there is the Frank for Ly. Water[ford?] you asked for'' she returned it with the note beneath with--"it is dated wrong--alter it tomorrow" and W[ebster] complaining that women did nothing but scribble wondered how people could have the patience to frank & alter franks--and then happily digressed to the day of the month--fish sauce--good wine & bad weather.----Your "matrimonial ladder" wants but one more descending step--"d--nation" I wonder how the carpenter omitted it--it amused me much.--I wish I were married--I don't care about beauty nor subsequent virtue--nor much about fortune-- I have made up my mind to share the decorations of my betters--but I should like-- let me see--- liveliness -- gentleness -- cleanliness -- & something of comeliness -- & my own first born--was ever man more moderate? what do you think of my "Bachelor's wife"? What a letter have I written"

[TO JAMES HOGG] Albany, March 24, [1814]

Dear Sir,--I have been out of town, otherwise your letter should have been answered sooner. When a letter contains a request, the said request generally figures towards the finale, and so does yours, my good friend. In answering perhaps the other way is the better: so not to make many words about a trifle, (which any thing of mine must be, ) you shall have a touch of my quality for your first Number--and if you print that, you shall have more of the same stuff for the successors. Send me a few of your proofs, and I will set forthwith about something, that I at least hope may suit your purposes. So much for the Poetic Mirror, which may easily be, God knows, entitled to hang higher than the prose one.

You seem to be a plain spoken man, Mr. Hogg, and I really do not like you the worse for it. I can't write verses, and yet you want a bit of my poetry for your book. It is for you to reconcile yourself with yourself.--You shall have the verses.

You are mistaken, my good fellow, in thinking that I (or, indeed, that any living verse-writer--for we shall sink poets) can write as well as Milton. Milton's Paradise Lost is, as a whole, a heavy concern; but the two first books of it are the very finest poetry that has ever been produced in this world--at least since the flood--for I make little doubt Abel was a fine pastoral poet, and Cain a fine bloody poet, and so forth; but we, now-a-days, even we, (you and I, i.e.) know no more of their poetry than the brutum vulgus--I beg pardon, the swinish multitude, do of Wordsworth and Pye. Poetry must always exist, like drink, where there is a demand for it. And Cain's may have been the brandy of the Antedeluvians, and Abel's the small [beer?] still.

Shakespeare's name, you may depend on it, stands absurdly too high and will go down. He had no invention as to stories, none whatever. He took all his plots from old novels, and threw their stories into a dramatic shape, at as little expense of thought as you or I could turn his plays back again into prose tales. That he threw over whatever he did write some flashes of genius, nobody can deny: but this was all. Suppose any one to have the dramatic handling for the first time of such ready-made stories as Lear, Macbeth, &c. and he would be a sad fellow, indeed, if he did not make something very grand of them. [As] for his historical plays, properly historical, I mean, they were mere redressings of former plays on the same subjects, and in twenty cases out of twenty-one, the finest, the very finest things, are taken all but verbatim out of the old affairs. You think, no doubt, that A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse! is Shakespeare's. Not a syllable of it. You will find it all in the old nameless dramatist. Could not one take up Tom Jones and improve it, without being a greater genius than Fielding? I, for my part, think Shakespeare's plays might be improved, and the public seem, and have seemed for to think so too, for not one of his is or ever has been acted as he wrote it; and what the pit applauded three hundred years past, is five times out of ten not Shakespeare's, but Cibber's.

Stick you to Walter Scott, my good friend, and do not talk any more stuff about his not being willing to give you real advice, if you really will ask for real advice. You love Southey, forsooth--I am sure Southey loves nobody but himself, however. I hate these talkers one and all, body and soul. They are a set of the most despicable impostors--that is my opinion of them. They know nothing of the world; and what is poetry, but the reflection of the world? What sympathy have this people with the spirit of this stirring age? They are no more able to understand the least of it, than your lass--nay, I beg her pardon, she may very probably have intense sympathy with both its spirit, ( I mean the whisky, ) and its body ( I mean the bard. ) They are mere old wives. Look at their beastly vulgarity, when they wish to be homely; and their exquisite stuff, when they clap on sail, and aim at fancy. Coleridge is the best of the trio--but bad is the best. Southey should have been a parish-clerk, and Wordsworth a man-midwife--both in darkness. I doubt if either of them ever got drunk, and I am of the old creed of Homer the wine-bibber. Indeed I think you and Bums have derived a great advantage from this, that being poets, and drinkers of wine, you have had a new potation to rely upon. Your whisky has made you original. I have always thought it a fine liquor. I back you against beer at all events, gill to gallon.

By the bye, you are a fine hand to cut up the minor matters of verse-writing; you indeed think harmony the all-in-all. My dear sir, you may depend upon it, you never had name yet, without making it rhyme to theme. I overlook all that sort of thing, however, and so must you, in your turn, pass over my real or supposed ruggedness. The fact is, that I have a theory on the subject, but that I have not time at present for explaining it. The first time all the poets of the age meet--it must be in London, glorious London is the place, after all--we shall, if you please, have a small trial of skill. You shall write seventeen odes for me, anything from Miltonian blank down to Phillupian [sic] namby, and I a similar number for you, and let a jury of good men and true be the judges between us. I name Scott for foreman--Tom Campbell may be admitted, and Mrs. Baillie, (though it be not exactly a matron case. ) You may name the other nine worthies yourself. We shall, at all events, have a dinner upon the occasion, and I stipulate for a small importation of the peat reek.

Dear sir, believe me sincerely yours,
BYRON
 

[TO LADY MELBOURNE] April 29th,1814

I delivered "Mamma's message" with anatomical precision--the knee was the refractory limb--was it not? injured I presume at prayers--for I cannot conjecture by what other possible attitude a female knee could become so perverse.--Having given an account of my embassy--I enclose you a note which will only repeat what you already know----but to obviate a possible Pharisaical charge--I must observe that the first part of her epistle alludes to an answer of mine--in which talking about that eternal Liturgy--I said that I had no great opinion one way or the other--assuredly no decided unbelief--and that the clamour had wrung from me many of the objectionable passages--in the pure quintessence of the spirit of contradiction &c &c.--She [Annabella Milbanke] talks of "talking" on these same metaphysics--to shorten the conversation I shall propose the Litany--"from the crafts & assau--" ay--that will do very well--what comes next--"Deliver us"--an't it?--Seriously--if she imagines that I particularly delight in canvassing the creed of St. Athanasius--or prattling of rhyme--I think she will be mistaken--but you know best--I don't suspect myself of often talking about poets or clergymen--of rhyme or the rubrick--but very likely I am wrong--for assuredly no one knows itself--and for aught I know--I may for these last 2 years have inflicted upon you a world of theology--and the greater part of Walker's rhyming dictionary.--------I don't know what to say or do about going--sometimes I wish it--at other times I think it foolish--as assuredly my design will be imputed to a motive--which by the bye--if once fairly there is very likely to come into my head--and failing to put me into no very good humour with myself--I am not now in love with her--but I can't at all foresee that I should not be so if it came "a warm June" (as Falstaff observes) and seriously--I do admire her as a very superior woman a little encumbered with Virtue--though perhaps your opinion & mine from the laughing turn of "our philosophy" may be less exalted upon her merits than that of the more zealous--though in fact less benevolent advocates of charity schools & Lying in Hospitals.----By the close of her note you will perceive that she has been "frowning" occasionally and has written some pretty lines upon it to a friend (he or she is not said) as for rhyme I am naturally no fair judge & can like it no better than a Grocer does figs. ------I am quite irresolute--and undecided--if I were sure of myself (not of her) I would go--but I am not--& never can be--and what is still worse I have no judgement--& less common sense than an infant--this is not affected humility--with you I have no affectation--with the world I have a part to play--to be diffident there is to wear a drag-chain--and luckily I do so thoroughly despise half the people in it--that my insolence is almost natural.--I enclose you also a letter written some time ago and of which I do not remember the precise contents--most likely they contradict every syllable of this--no matter.--Don't plague yourself to write--we shall meet at Mrs. Hope's I trust--

ever yrs,
B. 

---------------Portrait of Augusta Leigh-------------

My dear Lady M[elbourn]e.--You--or rather I have done my A[ugusta?] much injustice--the expression which you recollect as objectionable meant only "loving" in the senseless sense of that wide word--and--it must be some selfish stupidity of mine in telling my own story--but really & truly--as I hope mercy & happiness for her--by that God who made me for my own misery--& not much for the good of others--she was not to blame--one thousandth part in comparison--she was not aware of her own peril--till it was too late--and I can only account for her subsequent "abandon" by an observation which I think is not unjust--that women are much more attached than men--if they are treated with any thing like fairness or tenderness.--------------As for your A[nnabella?]--I don't know what to make of her -- I enclose her last but one -- and my A's last but one--from which you may form your own conclusions on both -- I think you must allow mine -- to be a very extraordinary person in point of talent -- but I won't say more -- only do not allow your good nature to lean to my side of this question -- on all others I shall be glad to avail myself of your partiality. -- Now for common life. -- There is a party at Lady J[ersey]'s on Monday and on Wednesday -- I am asked to both -- and excused myself out of Tuesday's dinner because I want to see Kean in Richard again -- pray why did you say -- I am getting into a scrape with R's moiety? -- one must talk to somebody -- I always give you the preference when you are disposed to listen -- and when you seem fidgetted as you do now & then --(and no wonder -- for latterly I do but repeat--) I turn to anyone and she was the first that I stumbled upon -- as for anything more -- I have not even advanced to the tip of her little finger -- and never shall -- unless she gives it. --You won't believe me & won't care if you do -- but I really believe that I have more true regard and affection for yourself than for any other existence -- as for my A -- my feelings towards her-- are a mixture of good & diabolical -- I hardly know one passion which has not some share in them -- but I won't run into the subject. --Your Niece has committed herself perhaps -- but it can be of no consequence if I pursued & succeeded in that quarter -- of course I must give up all other pursuits -- and the fact is that my wife if she had common sense would have more power over me -- than any other whatsoever -- for my heart always alights upon the nearest perch -- if it is withdrawn -- it goes God knows where -- but one must like something.--
 

[TO HENRIETTA D'USSIERES] June 8th, 1814

Excepting your compliments ( which are only excusable because you don't know me) you write like a clever woman for which reason I hope you look as unlike one as possible--I never knew but one of your country--Me. de Stael--and she is frightful as a precipice.--As it seems impracticable my visiting you--cannot you contrive to visit me? telling me the time previously that I may be in ye. way--and if this same interview leads to the "leap into the Serpentine" you mention--we can take the jump together--and shall be very good company--for I swim like a Duck--(one of the few things I can do well) and you say that your Sire taught you the same useful acquirement.--I like your education of all things--it in some degree resembles my own--for the first ten years of my life were passed much amongst mountains--and I had also a tender and peremptory parent who indulged me sometimes with holidays and now and then with a box on the ear.--If you will become acquainted with me--I will promise not to make love to you unless you like it--and even if I did there is no occasion for you to receive more of it than you please:--you must however do me two favours--the first is not to mistake me for S-- who is an excellent man--but to whom I have not the honour to bear the smallest ( I won't say slightest for he has the circumference of an Alderman) resemblance--and the next is to recollect that as "no man is a hero to his Valet" so I am a hero to no person whatsoever--and not treat me with such outrageous respect and awe -- which makes me feel as if I was in a strait waistcoat.--you shall be a heroine however if you prefer it and I will be and am

yr. very humble Sert.

P.S.--"Surprized" oh! no!--I am surprized at nothing--except at your taking so much trouble about one who is not worth it.----You say--what would "my servants think?" 1stly. they seldom think at all--2dly. they are generally out of the way--particularly when most wanted--3dly. I do not know you--and I humbly imagine that they are no wiser than their Master.--
 

[TO ANNABELLA MILBANKE] Newstead Abbey, Septr. 7th, 1814

It is Porson's letter to Travis to which you allude and--if I recollect rightly--one of his remarks (the highest praise to be passed on an Historian) is that amidst the immensity of reading through which he had tracked Gibbon, not one of his authorities was misquoted or perverted even unto a syllable. Perhaps I am wrong in giving this as from P's preface, for years have elapsed since I saw it; but of the fact as P's opinion--and no one could be a better judge--am certain.

Porson was slowly extinguishing, while I was a Cantab. I have seen him often--but not in "his happier hour" for to him that of "social pleasure" could not be so termed. He was always--that is daily--intoxicated to brutality. I hate to think of it, for he was a perfect wonder in powers and attainments.

Newstead is mine again--for the present. Mr. C[laughton] after many delays in completion, relinquished his purchase. I am sorry for it. He has lost a considerable sum in forfeiture by his temporary inability or imprudence; but he has evinced a desire to resume or renew his contract with greater punctuality--& in justice to him--though against the advice of lawyers, and the regrets of relations--I shall not hesitate to give him an opportunity of making good his agreement. But I shall expect--indeed I will not endure such trifling for the future.

I am much amused with your "sovereign good" being placed in repose. I need not remind you that this was the very essence of the Epicurean philosophy, and that both the Gods (who concerned themselves with nothing on earth) and the Disciples of the illustrious idler the founder of that once popular sect, defined the "To Kalov" to consist in literally doing nothing--and that all agitation was incompatible with pleasure. The truth possibly is that these materialists are so far right; but to enjoy repose we must be weary--and it is to "the heavy laden" that the invitation to "rest" speaks most eloquent music.

You accuse yourself of "apparent inconsistencies." To me they have not appeared; on the contrary, your consistency has been the most formidable apparition I have encountered. There seem to be no grounds for complaint on one side nor vindication on the other; and as to explanations--they are always a puzzle. After one or two letters which lately passed between us, and to which I must request your pardon for recurring--we--at least I (to speak for myself) could hardly have met without some embarrassment, possibly on both sides, certainly on one. This has been avoided--and so far is a subject of congratulation.

Your letters are generally answered on the day of their arrival so that it can't be very "irksome to me to write soon."

On my return to London which will not take place immediately I shall have great pleasure in forwarding the book offered in my last. The "Agricola" is beautiful. It is a pity that there are so many objections to a like perusal of Suetonius also; whose portraits are but too faithful even in their coarsest features. You must be partial to Sallust--but after all there are none like Tacitus & him you have.

ever yours
B
 

[TO ANNABELLA MILBANKE] Newstead Abbey, Septr. 9th, 1814

You were good enough in your last to say that I might write "soon"--but you did not add often. I have therefore to apologize for again intruding on your time - to say nothing of patience. There is something I wish to say; and as I may not see you for some--perhaps for a long time--I will endeavour to say it at once. A few weeks ago you asked me a question which I answered. I have now one to propose--to which if improper, I need not add that your declining to reply to it will be sufficient reproof. It is this. Are the "objections" to which you alluded insuperable? or is there any line or change of conduct which could possibly remove them? I am well aware that all such changes are more easy in theory than practice, but at the same time there are few things I would not attempt to obtain your good opinion. At all events I would willingly know the worst. Still I neither wish you to promise or pledge yourself to anything, but merely to learn a possibility which would not leave you the less a free agent.

When I believed you attached, I had nothing to urge--indeed I have little now, except that having heard from yourself that your affections are not engaged, my importunities may appear not quite so selfish however unsuccessful. It is not without a struggle that I address you once more on this subject; yet I am not very consistent--for it was to avoid troubling you upon it that I finally determined to remain an absent friend rather than become a tiresome guest. If I offend it is better at a distance.

With the rest of my sentiments you are already acquainted. If I do not repeat them it is to avoid--or at least not increase your displeasure.

ever yrs. most truly
B

----------Miss Annabelle Milbanke----------

[TO ANNABELLA MILBANKE] Newstead Abbey, Septr. 19th, 1814

I wrote to you yesterday--not very intelligibly, I fear--and to your father in a more embarrassed manner than I could have wished; but the fact is that I am even now apprehensive of having misunderstood you and of appearing presumptuous when I am only happy in the hope that you will not repent having made me more so than I ever thought to have been again.

Perhaps in some points our dispositions are not so contrasted as at times you have supposed; but even if they were--I am not sure that a perfect sameness of character ( a kind of impossibility by the bye ) would ensure the happiness of two human beings any more than an union of tempers and pursuits of very dissimilar qualities. Our pursuits at least I think are not unlike. You have no great passion for the world as it is called; and both have those intellectual resources which are the best--if not the only preventatives of ennui of oneself or others. My habits I trust are not very anti-domestic. I have no pleasure in what is named Conviviality, nor is Gaming nor Hunting my vice or my amusement; and with regard to other and perhaps far more objectionable faults & levities of former conduct--I know that I cannot exculpate myself to my own satisfaction, far less to yours; yet there have been circumstances which would prove that although "sinning" I have also been "sinned against." I have long stood alone in life; and my disposition, though I think not unaffectionate, was yet never calculated to acquire the friendships which are often born to others. The few that chance or circumstances have presented I have been fortunate enough to preserve--& some whom I could little have hoped to number amongst them.

I won't go on with this Egotism. Will you write to me soon? I shall be in London on Thursday, I think. Do not answer oftener than is least irksome, but permit me to address you occasionally till I can see you--which I wish so much--and yet I feel more tremblingly alive to that meeting than I quite like to own to myself. When your letter arrived my sister was sitting near me and grew frightened at the effect of its contents--which was even painful for a moment--not a long one--nor am I often so shaken. I have written--yet hardly a word that I intended to say, except that you must pardon me for repeating so soon how entirely I am

yr. attached & sincere
BYRON

P.S.--Do not forget me to your father & mother--whom I hope to call mine.
 

[TO LADY MELBOURNE] Novr. 13th, 1814

My dear Lady Mel[bourn]e.--I delivered your letters--but have only mentioned ye receipt of your last to myself.--------Do you know I have great doubts--if this will be a marriage now.--her disposition is the very reverse of our imaginings--she is overrun with fine feelings--scruples about herself & her disposition (I suppose in fact she means mine) and to crown all is taken ill once every 3 days with I know not what--but the day before and the day after she seems well--looks & eats well & is cheerful & confiding & in short like any other person in good health & spirits.--A few days ago she made one scene--not altogether out of C[aroline]'s style-- it was too long & too trifling in fact for me to transcribe--but it did me no good----in the article of conversation however she has improved with a vengeance--but I don't much admire these same agitations upon slight occasions.--I don't know--but I think it by no means impossible you will see me in town soon--I can only interpret these things one way--& merely wait to be certain to make my obeisances and "exit singly." I hear of nothing but "feeling" from morning till night--except from Sir Ralph with whom I go on to admiration--Ly. M[ilbanke] too is pretty well--but I am never sure of A[nnabella]--for a moment--the least word--and you know I rattle on through thick & thin (always however avoiding anything I think can offend her favourite notions) if only to prevent me from yawning--the least word--or alteration of tone--has some inference drawn from it--sometimes we are too much alike & then again too unlike-- this comes of system--& squaring her notions to the Devil knows what--for my part I have lately had recourse to the eloquence of action (which Demosthenes calls the first part of oratory) & find it succeeds very well & makes her very quiet which gives me some hopes of the efficacy of the "calming process" so renowned in "our philosophy."--In fact and entre nous it is really amusing--she is like a child in that respect--and quite caressable into kindness and good humour--though I don't think her temper bad at any time--but very self-tormenting--and anxious--and romantic. ----------In short--it is impossible to foresee how this will end now--anymore than 2 years ago--if there is a break--it shall be her doing not mine.--

ever yrs. most truly
B
 

[TO ANNABELLA MILBANKE] Boroughbridge, Novr. 16th, 1814

My Heart--We are thus far separated--but after all one mile is as bad as a thousand--which is a great consolation to one who must travel six hundred before he meets you again.----If it will give you any satisfaction--I am as comfortless as a pilgrim with peas in his shoes--and as cold as Charity--Chastity or any other Virtue.--On my way to Castle Eden I waylaid the Post--& found letters from Hanson--which I annex for the amusement of Lady Milbanke who having a passion for business will be glad to see any thing that looks like it.--I expect to reach Newstead tomorrow & Augusta the day after.--Present to our parents as much of my love as you like to part with--& dispose of the rest as you please. --ever thine

B

P.S.--I will begin my next with what I meant to be the postscript of this.--
 

[TO JOHN CAM HOBHOUSE] Seaham--January 26th, 1815

My dear H[obhous]e--Your packet hath been perused and firstly I am lost in wonder & obligation at your good nature in taking so much trouble with Spooney and my damnable concerns--I would leave to your choice our "Counsellors at law" as Mrs. Heidelberg calls them--a--Templeman--I think stands first on your list--so prithee fix on him--or whom you please--but do you fix--for you know I never could.--N[ewstead] must be sold--without delay--and even at a loss--out of debt must be my first object--and the sooner the better.--My debts can hardly be less than thirty thousand--there is six thousand charged on N[ewstead] to a Mr. Sawbridge--a thousand--to Mrs. B[yron] at Nott[ingha]m--a Jew debt of which the interest must be more than the principal--& of which H[anson] must get an amount from Thomas--another Jew debt--six hundred prin[cipa]l--and no interest (as I have kept that down) to a man in New Street--I forget his name but shall know on half year's day--a good deal still before majority--in which the "old women" of former celebrity were concerned--but one is defunct--and the debt itself may wait my convenance--since it is not in my name--and indeed the interest has pretty well paid principal & all being transcendantly usurious,--a good deal of tradesmen &c. &c.--You know I have paid off Scrope that is 6000 & more--nearly 3000 to Hans. Carvel--then I lent rather more than 1600 pounds to Hodgson--1000 pounds to "bold" Webster--and nearly 3000 to George L[eigh] or rather to Augusta--the last sums I never wish to see again--and others I may wish--I have W[ebster]'s bond which is worth a damn or two--but from Hodg[son] I neither asked nor wanted security--but there was 150 lent at Hastings to the same Hod[gson] which was punctually promised to be paid in six weeks--and has been paid with the usual punctuality--viz--not at all. --I think I have now accounted for a good deal of Clau[ghton]'s disbursements--the rest was swallowed up by duns -- necessities -- luxuries -- fooleries -- jewelleries -- "whores and fiddlers". --As for expectations, don't talk to me of "expects" (as Mr Lofty says to Croaker of "suspects") the Baronet is eternal--the Viscount immortal--and my Lady (senior) without end.--They grow more healthy every day and I verily believe Sir R[alph], Ly. M[ilbanke] and Lord W[entworth] are at this moment cutting a fresh set of teeth and unless they go off by the usual fever attendant on such children as don't use the "American soothing syrup" that they will live to have them all drawn again.--
 

[TO JAMES WEDDERBURN WEBSTER] Piccadilly Terrace.--Sept. 4th, 1815

My dear W.--Certainly--if Lady Frances [Webster] has no objection--& you are disposed to be so complimentary--I cannot but be accordant with your wish;--I give you joy of the event & hope the name will be fortunate.--Lady B. is very well & expects to lie in in December.--I wish a boy of course--they are less trouble in every point of view--both in education & after life.--

You are misinformed--I am writing nothing--nor even dreaming of repeating that folly--& as to Lady B. she has too much good sense to be a scribbler--your informant is therefore more facetious than accurate.--------

A word to you of Lady [Caroline Lamb]--I speak from experience--keep clear of her--(I do not mean as a woman--that is all fair) she is a villainous intriguante--in every sense of the word---- mad & malignant -- capable of all & every mischief -- above all -- guard your connections from her society with all her apparent absurdity there is an indefatigable & active spirit of meanness & destruction about her--which delights & often succeeds in inflicting misery--once more--I tell you keep her from all that you value--as for yourself--do as you please--no human being but myself knows the thorough baseness of that wretched woman--& now I have done.------

I believe I can guess the "important subject" on which you wish to write--but I would rather decline hearing or speaking of it--for many reasons--the most obvious & proper of which is that however false it is too delicate for discussion even with your most intimate friends--to copy your own words I "believe nothing I hear" on this point--& advise you to follow the example.------

I write in the greatest hurry--just returned to London if you answer I will write again--in the interim

Yrs ever
B
 

[TO JAMES WEDDERBURN WEBSTER] 13 Terrace Pic[cadill]y, Sept. 18th, 1815

My dear W.--Your letter of the 10th is before me.--Since your last I received a note from Lady Frances [Webster] containing a repetition of your request--which was already answered in my reply to you--I am obliged by her politeness & regret that she should have taken the trouble of which I presume you were the occasion.--------

With regard to Lady C.[aroline] L.[amb]----I wrote rather hurriedly & probably said more than I intended or than she deserved--but I fear the main points are correct--she is such a mixture of good & bad--of talent and absurdity--in short--an exaggerated woman--that--that--in fact I have no right to abuse her--and did love her very well--till she took abundant pains to cure me of it--& there's an end--You will deliver her the enclosed note from me--if you please--it contains my thanks for a cross of the "Legion of Honour" which she sent me some time ago from Waterloo--I never received it till yesterday.----You may have seen "much" but not enough to know her thoroughly in this time--she is a good study for a couple of years at least.--I will give you one bit of advice which may be of use--she is most dangerous when humblest--like a Centipede she crawls & stings.------

As for "him" [William Lamb]--we have not spoken these three years--so that I can hardly answer your question--but he is a handsome man as you see--and a clever man as you may see--of his temper I know nothing--I never heard of any prominent faults that he possesses--and indeed she has enough for both-- In short his good qualities are his own--and his misfortune is having her--if the woman was quiet & like the rest of the amatory world it would not so much signify--but no--everything she says--does--or imagines--must be public--which is exceedingly inconvenient in the end however piquant at the beginning.-----

And now to the serious part of your epistle--Humph--what the devil can I say?-- as your mind is so divided upon the subject--I wonder you should ask me to say anything--it is thrusting poor dear innocent me into the part of Iago--from whom however I shall only take one sentence--

"Long live she so--& long live you to think so!"--

ever yrs. most truly
B
 

[TO SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE] 13 Terrace Piccadilly--Oct. 18th, 1815

Dear Sir--Your letter I have just received.--I will willingly do whatever you direct about the volumes in question--the sooner the better--it shall not be for want of endeavour on my part--as a Negociator with the "Trade" (to talk technically) that you are not enabled to do yourself justice.--Last Spring I saw W[alte]r Scott--he repeated to me a considerable portion of an unpublished poem of yours--the wildest & finest I ever heard in that kind of composition--the title he did not mention--but I think the heroine's name was Geraldine--at all events--the "toothless mastiff bitch"--& the "witch Lady"--the descriptions of the hall--the lamp suspended from the image--& more particularly of the Girl herself as she went forth in the evening--all took a hold on my imagination which I never shall wish to shake off.--I mention this--not for the sake of boring you with compliments--but as a prelude to the hope that this poem is or is to be in the volumes you are now about to publish.--I do not know that even "Love" or the "Ancient Mariner" are so impressive--& to me there are few things in our tongue beyond these two productions.----W[alte]r Scott is a staunch & sturdy admirer of yours--& with a just appreciation of your capacity--deplored to me the want of inclination & exertion which prevented you from giving full scope to your mind.--I will answer your question as to the "Beggar's [Bush?]"--tomorrow--or next day--I shall see Rae & Dibdin (the acting M[anage]rs) tonight for that purpose.--Oh--your tragedy--I do not wish to hurry you -- but I am indeed very anxious to have it under consideration -- it is a field in which there are none living to contend against you & in which I should take a pride & pleasure in seeing you compared with the dead--I say this not disinterestly but as a Committee man--we have nothing even tolerable--except a tragedy of Sotheby's--which shall not interfere with yours--when ready--you can have no idea what trash there is in the four hundred fallow dramas now lying on the shelves of D[rury] L[ane]. I never thought so highly of good writers as lately--since I have had an opportunity of comparing them with the bad.--

ever yrs truly
BYRON
 

[TO LEIGH HUNT] 13 Terrace Piccadilly Septr.--Octr. 30th, 1815

My dear Hunt--Many thanks for your books of which you already know my opinion.--Their external splendour should not disturb you as inappropriate--they have still more within than without.----I take leave to differ from you on Wordsworth as freely as I once agreed with you--at that time I gave him credit for promise which is unfulfilled--I still think his capacity warrants all you say of it only--but that his performances since "Lyrical Ballads"--are miserably inadequate to the ability which lurks within him:--there is undoubtedly much natural talent spilt over "the Excursion" but it is rain upon rocks where it stands & stagnates--or rain upon sands where it falls without fertilizing--who can understand him?--let those who do make him intelligible.--Jacob Behman--Swedenborg--& Joanna Southcote are mere types of this Arch-Apostle of mystery & mysticism--but I have done:--no I have not done--for I have two petty & perhaps unworthy objections in small matters to make to him--which with his pretension to accurate observation & fury against Pope's false translation of the "Moonlight scene in Homer'' I wonder he should have fallen into--these be they.--He says of Greece in the body of his book--that it is a land of

"rivers--fertile plains--& sounding shores
Under a cope of variegated sky."

ever yrs very truly & affectly.
BYRON

P.S.--Not a word from Moore for these 2 months.--Pray let me have the rest of "Rimini["] you have 2 excellent points in that poem-- originality--& Italianism--I will back you as a bard against half the fellows on whom you throw away much good criticism & eulogy--but don't let your bookseller publish in Quarto it is the worst size possible for circulation--I say this on Bibliopolical authority--

again--yours ever
B
 

[TO THOMAS MOORE] Terrace, Piccadilly, October 31, 1815

I have not been able to ascertain precisely the time of duration of the stock market; but I believe it is a good time for selling out, and I hope so. First, because I shall see you; and, next, because I shall receive certain monies on behalf of Lady B[yron], the which will materially conduce to my comfort,--I wanting (as the duns say) "to make up a sum."

Yesterday, I dined out with a largeish party, where were Sheridan and Colman, Harry Harris of C[ovent] G[arden] and his brother, Sir Gilbert Heathcote, D[ougla]s Kinnaird, and others, of note and notoriety. Like other parties of the kind, it was first silent, then talky, then argumentative, then disputatious, then unintelligible, then altogethery, then inarticulate, and then drunk. When we had reached the last step of this glorious ladder, it was difficult to get down again without stumbling;--and, to crown all, Kinnaird and I had to conduct Sheridan down a d----d corkscrew staircase, which had certainly been constructed before the discovery of fermented liquors, and to which no legs, however crooked, could possibly accommodate themselves. We deposited him safe at home, where his man, evidently used to the business, waited to receive him in the hall.

Both he and Colman were, as usual, very good; but I carried away much wine, and the wine had previously carried away my memory; so that all was hiccup and happiness for the last hour or so, and I am not impregnated with any of the conversation. Perhaps you heard of a late answer of Sheridan to the watchman who found him bereft of that "divine particle of air," called reason, * * * * * * * * * * He, the watchman, found Sherry in the street, fuddled and bewildered, and almost insensible. "Who are you, sir?"--no answer. "What's your name?"--a hiccup. "What's your name?"--Answer, in a slow, deliberate, and impassive tone--"Wilberforce!!!" Is not that Sherry all over?--and, to my mind, excellent. Poor fellow, his very dregs are better than the "first sprightly runnings" of others.

My paper is full, and I have a grievous headache.

P.S.--Lady B[yron] is in full progress. Next month will bring to light (with the aid of "Juno Lucina, fer opem," or rather opes, for the last are most wanted), the tenth wonder of the world--Gil Blas being the eighth, and he (my son's father) the ninth.

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