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 LORD BYRON'S CORRESPONDENCE
 
 LUKD HYRUX 
 From a picture hy K.Wcstall. K.A., 
 
 in the possession of the late Baroness Burdett Contts 
 
 vitispifu: I'll/./
 
 LORD BYRON'S 
 CORRESPONDENCE 
 
 CHIEFLY WITH 
 
 LADY MELBOURNE, MR. HOBHOUSE, 
 
 THE HON. DOUGLAS KINNAIRD, AND 
 
 P. B. SHELLEY 
 
 WITH PORTRAITS 
 
 EDITED BY JOHN MURRAY 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 
 VOL. I 
 
 LONDON 
 JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W. 
 
 1922
 
 FiKST Edition . , . February 1922. 
 Reprinted ..... May 1922. 
 
 All Rights Reserved
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 The letters contained in this volume have had a rather 
 remarkable history. They were the property of Lord 
 Broughton, better known as John Cam Hobhouso, 
 the intimate friend and executor of Lord Byron, and 
 through him came into the possession of his daughter, 
 Lady Dorchester. 
 
 Lady Dorchester was an old friend of my father, 
 and I made her acquaintance in 1876 or 1877. 
 From that time onwards I was in very frequent com- 
 munication with her about these papers, and she 
 contemplated editing and publishing a selection of 
 them ; but there were many difficulties in the way, 
 and she died in 1914 without carrying out her purpose. 
 
 In 1877 Lady Dorchester expressed a wish to have 
 copies made, but was unwilling to entrust the letters 
 to a stranger. I therefore undertook to do this 
 myself, and had copied some 300, when my marriage 
 and a journey abroad forced me to hand over the 
 completion of the task to another copyist, who has 
 since died. The copies were all returned to Lady 
 Dorchester. 
 
 A few years later Lady Dorchester caused all these 
 copies to be set up m type, and one or two proofs were 
 struck off for her private use. I never read any of the 
 letters again till after her death in 1914, and neither Mr. 
 Prothero (Lord Ernie) nor Mr. Coleridge had access to 
 them during the preparation of my edition of B3a:on, 
 nor was any use made of any of Lady Dorchester's 
 papers for the purpose of that work, the publication of 
 which began in 1898, and ended in 1904. 
 
 I believe it was her original intention to leave all the 
 papers to the late Lord Lovelace, until the publication
 
 vi INTRODUCTION 
 
 of Astarte, a book of which she strongly disapproved, 
 caused her to change her mind in this respect, and his 
 death in 1906 removed the possibility of any reversion 
 to her intention even if she ever contemplated it. 
 
 In her later years she spoke to me many times about 
 the disposal of these papers after her death, and at 
 length told me she had decided to leave them to Lord 
 Rosebery, a decision which I did everything in my 
 power to confirm. 
 
 The last time I saw her she spoke of this destination 
 as a settled matter. 
 
 A week or two after Lady Dorchester's death I met 
 Lord Rosebery at dinner, and learned from him, to my 
 amazement, that by a codicil to her wiU she had left 
 the papers to me. Such an idea had never been 
 even mentioned in the course of aU our communications, 
 and I told Lord Rosebery that I was very sorry to hear 
 of the bequest, as I regarded him as far better qualified 
 to deal with the trust than I was. 
 
 For a trust, and a very responsible trust it is. I 
 think I know what Lady Dorchester's wishes and in- 
 tentions were ; and the views in regard to Lord Byron's 
 memory and reputation, and also in regard to his 
 descendants, which have always been held by my 
 Grandfather, my Father, and myself, added greatly to 
 the difficulties of my position. 
 
 Our endeavour has always been to deal with Bjnron's 
 works from their literary side, and to avoid as much as 
 possible taking any part in the squalid and unsavoury 
 discussions of his private life and personal delinquencies, 
 which arose after Mrs. Beecher Stowe's disclosures in 
 1869. 
 
 In pursuance of this line of action I planned and — 
 with the assistance of Mr. Rowland Prothero (now Lord 
 Ernie) and the late Mr. Ernest Hartley Coleridge —
 
 INTRODUCTION vii 
 
 carried out the long-contemplated complete edition of 
 Lord Byron's works. 
 
 At the outset we had the approval, and for a time 
 the co-operation, of the late Lord Lovelace, and to this 
 day I do not know what was the cause of his sudden 
 perversion from friendship into bitter animosity. 
 This is not the place in which to reopen that strange and 
 unpleasant controversy, and, moreover, I have already 
 dealt with it fully, and I believe conclusively, in an 
 article m the Monthly Review for February 1906. It 
 only remains for me to say that the account of the 
 transaction given in Lady Lovelace's memoir of her 
 husband contains several serious inaccuracies which 
 I should have been willing to correct if an opportunity 
 had been afforded me. 
 
 To return to my edition of Byron's works. The 
 admirable notes of the two editors contain a vast 
 amount of information, which cannot be found else- 
 where, concerning Byron's life and writings. In 
 pursuance of our original plan, it has not always been 
 dragged forth and exhibited to the man in the street, 
 but it is there for the expert and the student to discover, 
 and many have discovered it. 
 
 Lady Dorchester's documents were handed over to 
 me in the latter part of 1914, and at the outset I was 
 met by a fresh difficulty. By a strange legal descent, 
 and a series of siKviving trustees, the copyright in aU 
 Lord Byron's unpublished works, which by his will was 
 left away from his direct descendants, has passed into the 
 hands of a gentleman who is in no way connected with 
 Byron or any member of his family direct or collateral. 
 
 The investigations and negotiations incident to his pro- 
 tection as trustee, and mine as purchaser, in assigning 
 the right of publication have occupied nearly seven years.
 
 viii INTRODUCTION 
 
 Lady Dorchester's collection comprised some 500 
 letters from Lord BjTon, chiefly to Hobhouse, Kinnaird, 
 and Lady Melbom^ne. By far the larger part of those 
 to Kinnaird, who was his trustee, are worthless from 
 an historical or literary point of view. They consist of 
 constantly repeated inquiries and instructions about 
 the sale of Newstead, investment of funds and other 
 matters of no conceivable interest to anyone now. 
 
 A good many of the letters to Hobhouse have been 
 omitted for similar reasons, but the omissions include 
 nothing of importance. 
 
 The letters to Lady Melbourne, sister of Sir Ralph 
 Noel (and consequently aunt of Lady Byron) and 
 mother-in-law of Lady Caroline Lamb, form a complete 
 series. It would have been my inclination to omit 
 some of these letters — or some parts of them — as con- 
 taining rather wearisome iterations of the same theme, 
 but as Lord Byron's descendants have expressed a 
 definite wish that they should be published verbatim 
 et literatim, I have acquiesced in this course, and I never 
 contemplated omitting anything of importance in them. 
 
 I have already mentioned that there was one packet 
 of the letters which I did not copy myself, and my 
 recollection of those I had copied was very indistinct, 
 as, when they came into my possession in 1914, I had 
 not read them for thirty-six years. Knowing as I did 
 that every letter was copied and sent to the printer, 
 I had worked on the printed copies exclusively until 
 July 1921, but always with the intention of collating 
 and verifying with the originals the copies I had not 
 myself made. 
 
 This I did in June-July 1921, and then discovered 
 that four letters were omitted from both the MS. copies 
 and my set of the printed copies. I did not remove 
 them, but they have now been restored.
 
 INTRODUCTION ix 
 
 Into the controversy raised and now revived by the 
 two editions of Asiarte I do not propose to enter here 
 further than this : — Lord Lovelace apparently set out 
 to prove two statements: (1) That Byron had guilty 
 relations with Mrs. Leigh ; and (2) that these were the 
 cause of the separation. 
 
 Whatever opinion may be held in regard to (1), of 
 which Lord Lovelace himself (then Lord Wentworth) 
 emphatically denied the truth in a letter to the Daily 
 News in 1869, and again by word of mouth and in 
 writing in 1898, there has certainly been no proof 
 of and no attempt to prove (2).^ All the evidence 
 contained in Astarte goes to show that Byron's alleged 
 relations with his sister had nothing to do with the 
 cause of separation. 
 
 I must record my sincere thanks to my friends Lord 
 Ernie and Mr. Richard Edgcumbe for their kind 
 and valuable assistance in preparing the proofs for 
 press. Their knowledge of all that concerns Byron's 
 life is unsurpassed by that of any other living men. 
 
 Lord Ernie has read the proofs, and Mr. Edgcumbe 
 has also done this and supplied many notes and para- 
 
 1 Those who are desirous of pursuing their inquiries into this 
 disagreeable subject should study carefully Recollections of a Long 
 Lije, by Lord Broughton (J. C. Hobhouse). In vol, ii they will 
 read that, at the time of the separation, BjTon's most intimate 
 friends cross-examined him as to his own delinquencies and appealed 
 to him in the most solemn inanner to tell them everything. Byron 
 was no coward, nor was he prone to conceal his own misdeeds. The 
 deliberate judgment arrived at by his friends was that " Lord 
 Byron had not been guilty of any enormity, and that the whole 
 charge against him would amoimt merely to such offences as are 
 more often committed than complained of, and however they might 
 be to be regretted as subversive of matrimonial felicity, would not 
 render him amenable to the laws of any court, whether of justice or 
 equity " (vol. ii, pp. 283-4 ; see also Shelley's letter of 29 Sept. 1816). 
 
 This was not published till 1909, four years after the appearance of 
 the first edition of Astarte. Lord Lovelace never saw it, and so far 
 as I am aware it is not quoted in the second edition, but it is a 
 most important piece of evidence which cannot be ignored.
 
 X INTRODUCTION 
 
 graphs. I have marked the most important of these 
 paragraphs with his initials, " R. E." 
 
 I have also to thank Sir John Shelley Rolls for his 
 kindness in allowing me to publish the Shelley letters 
 contained in these volumes. 
 
 There are some who maintain that Byron's day is 
 past, and even deny that he is a great poet. I believe 
 that I have better opportunities than most people of 
 forming an opinion as to the position he held in the 
 public estimation, and I can assure these detractors that 
 their view is a false one, and can only proceed from 
 ignorance or hasty generahzation. 
 
 During the past thirty years some hundreds of 
 people, most of them entire strangers to me, have 
 asked and received permission to come and see my 
 collection of MSS. and other Byroniana, Among the 
 most eager admirers Americans take a prominent place, 
 and before the war German experts have been here and 
 spent many hours collating MSS,, etc, I am often 
 surprised to find how widespread are the interest in 
 and knowledge of Byron and his writings. Moreover, 
 his reputation as a letter writer is now equal to that 
 which he has long enjoyed as a poet, and although 
 perhaps none of the letters in these volumes surpass the 
 best of those to my Grandfather and Moore which have 
 already been published, they wiU bear comparison with 
 any other letters in the Enghsh language. 
 
 This book does not profess to be a continuous record 
 of Byron's Hfe, and I have confined the editorial part 
 to such brief introductions and notes as may enable 
 an ordinary reader to follow the events and persons 
 described with reasonable ease. Those who wish for 
 fuUer information wiU find many references to other 
 works, especially to the Letters and Poetry of Lord 
 Byron, edited by Lord Ernie and Mr, Coleridge, 
 
 January 1922. JOHN MtJRRAY.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 VOL. I 
 
 CHAPTER PAQH 
 
 I. Travels in Greece and Turkey 
 
 (1808-1811) 1 
 
 II. Return to England (1811-1812) . . 41 
 
 III. Correspondence with Lady Melbourne 
 
 (1812) 70 
 
 IV. Correspondence with Lady Melbourne 
 
 (1813) 126 
 
 V. Marriage (1814-1815) . . . .220 
 
 XI
 
 N
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 VOL. I 
 
 Lord Byron .... Frontispiece 
 
 Prom a picture by R. Westall, R.A.,in the possession of the late Baroness 
 Burdett Coutts. 
 
 PACING PAQB 
 
 Viscountess Melbourne and her Eldest 
 
 Son, Peniston Lamb . . . .154 
 
 After the picture by Sir Joshua Reynolds, P.R.A. 
 
 Facsimile of Forged Letter by Lady 
 
 Caroline Lamb . , . pp. 130 & 131 
 
 xiii
 
 ERRATA 
 
 Vol. I, page 78, Hue 6 from foot, for " more " read *' none." 
 )} >! » 172j „ 8, for " Sad mark" read "Sad work."
 
 LETTERS OF LORD BYRON 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 TRAVELS IN GREECE AND TURKEY 
 (1808-1811) 
 
 In October 1805 Lord B3nron, then in his eighteenth 
 year, went into residence at Trinity College, Cambridge. 
 He has plaialy described his feelings at that time : 
 
 " When I first went up to College it was a new and 
 heavy-hearted scene for me. Firstly, I so much dis- 
 liked leaving Harrow. Secondly, I wished to go to 
 Oxford, and not to Cambridge. Thirdly, I was so 
 completely alone in this new world, that it half broke 
 my spirits. It was one of the deadliest and heaviest 
 feelings of my life to feel that I was no longer a boy." 
 
 B5a'on at first was disinclined to form any new 
 friendships ; and his almost sole companion during 
 his first year at Trinity was his Harrow School friend, 
 Edward Noel Long. 
 
 " Long's friendship " — says Bjron — " and a violent, 
 though pure love and passion which held me at the same 
 period, were the then romance of the most romantic 
 period of my life." In this " violent, though pure 
 love " we recognize Byron's attachment to Mary 
 Chaworth, whose marriage had taken place only a few 
 weeks previously. 
 
 The best account of Byron's friendships during his 
 
 1
 
 2 TRAVELS IN GREECE AND TURKEY [ch. i 
 
 first year at Cambridge is contained in his letter to 
 Murray of 19 Nov. 1820.^ In this he relates how he 
 first made the acquaintance of C. S. Matthews in 1807, 
 " by means of Hobhouse who after hating me for two 
 years because I wore a white hat and a grey coat and 
 rode a grey horse (as he said himself) took me into his 
 good graces because I had written some poetry." 
 
 Byron to Hobhouse 
 
 DoRANTS, February 27th, 1808. 
 
 Dear Hobhouse, — I write to you to explain a foolish 
 circumstance, which has arisen from some words uttered 
 by me before Pearce and Brown, when I was devoured 
 by chagrin, and almost insane with the fumes of, not 
 " last night's punch," but that evenmg's wine. 
 
 In consequence of a misconception of something on 
 my part, I mentioned an intention of withdrawing my 
 name from the Whig Club ^ ; this, I hear, has been 
 broached, and perhaps in a moment of intoxication and 
 passion such might be my idea, but soberly I have no 
 such design, particularly as I could not abandon my 
 principles, even if I renounced the Society with whom 
 I have the honour to be united in sentiments which I 
 never will disavow. 
 
 This I beg you will explain to the members as publicly 
 as possible, but should this not be sufficient, and they 
 think proper to erase my name, be it so : I only request 
 that in this case they wUl recollect I shall become 
 a Tory of their own making. I shall expect your 
 answer on this point with some impatience. 
 
 As an author, I am cut to atoms by the E[dinburgh] 
 Review ; it is just out, and has completely demolished 
 my little fabric of fame. This is rather scurvy treat- 
 ment for a Whig Review, but politics and poetry are 
 different things, and I am no adept in either. I 
 therefore submit m silence. 
 
 1 Letters and Journals, v. 121. 
 
 3 At Cambridge, founded by Hobhouse.
 
 1808-11] SAILS FROM FALMOUTH 3 
 
 Scrope Da vies ^ is meandering about London, feed- 
 ing upon leg-of-beef soup, and frequenting the British 
 Forum ; he has given up hazard, as also a consider- 
 able sum at the same time. 
 
 I do not write often, but I like to receive letters ; 
 when, therefore, you are disposed to philosophize, no 
 one standeth more in need of precepts of all sorts than 
 
 Yours very truly, Byron. 
 
 Early in November 1808 Byron formed a plan for 
 a foreign tour. He hoped to visit Persia and parts 
 of British India. Letters were written to the Rev. 
 John Palmer f Professor of Arabic at Cambridge, 
 inquiring as to what things would be necessary for his 
 voyage. He also applied for letters of introduction 
 to the various Consuls, and to the Governors of Calcutta 
 and Madras. In a letter to his Mother, Byron says : 
 " If I do not trtivel now, I never shall, and all men 
 should one day or other. I have at present no con- 
 nections to keep me at home." ^ 
 
 Writing to his Mother from Falmouth on 22 June 
 1809 BjTon says : 
 
 " I am about to sail in a few days. I have a German 
 servant (who has been with Mr, Wilbraham in Persia . . . 
 Robert [Rushton] and William [Fletcher] ; they 
 constitute my whole suite. ... As to money matters, 
 I am ruined — at least till Rochdale is sold ; and if that 
 does not turn out well, I shall enter into the Austrian or 
 Russian service — perhaps the Turkish if I like their 
 manners. The world is all before me, and I leave 
 England without regret, and without a wish to revisit 
 anything it contains, except yourself, and your present 
 residence [Newstead]. ... I ought to add the leaving 
 
 1 Scrope Berdmore Davies (1783-1852), Fellow of King's College, 
 Cambridge, in 1805. For fuller particulars see Letters and Journals, 
 i. 165. 
 
 2 Letters and Journals, i. 193. 
 
 1—2
 
 4 TRAVELS IN GREECE AND TURKEY [ch. i 
 
 Murray ' to my few regrets, as his age perhaps will 
 prevent my seeing him again. Robert [Rushton], 
 I take with me. I like him, because, like myself, he 
 seems a friendless animal." " 
 
 On the 2nd July, Byron, accompanied by John Cam 
 Hobhouse and their servants, sailed from Falmouth 
 in the Lisbon packet commanded by Captain Kidd. 
 The sea passage occupied five days. On 16 July Byron 
 writes to his friend Francis Hodgson from Lisbon : 
 " I am very happy here, because I loves oranges, and 
 talks bad Latm 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." ' 
 
 On the following day Byron and Hobhouse on 
 horseback started to ride near 500 miles to Gibraltar, 
 which place was reached on the 5th August, after a 
 brief stay at Seville, and Cadiz, from which place they 
 proceeded in the Hyperion frigate to Gibraltar. Byron 
 states that they rode on excellent horses, which carried 
 them seventy miles a day. 
 
 The passage from Gibraltar to Malta occupied four- 
 teen days, the packet having touched both at Cagliari 
 and Girgenti, at which place the mails were landed, 
 and on the following day the vessel anchored at 
 Malta. The Governor here provided Byron and his 
 
 1 Joe Murray had been for many years in the service of the 
 "wicked" Lord Byron. At his master's death in 1798 he was 
 taken into the service of the Duke of Leeds. Byron made Murray 
 an allowance of £20 a year, and took him as soon as he could into his 
 own service, and left him a legacy of £50 a year for life in his will. 
 
 2 Letters and Journals, i. 224. 
 
 3 Ibid., i. 233.
 
 1808-11] AT MALTA 5 
 
 companion with an agreeable house in the upper part of 
 Valetta/ and soon after his arrival Byron began to 
 take lessons in Arabic from a monk who was employed 
 in the public library. It was at Malta that Byron 
 formed an acquaintance with Mrs. Spencer Smith 
 (the Florence of Childe Harold), whose husband had 
 been British Minister at Constantinople. Gait, in his 
 Life of Lord Byron, says : " Her adventures with the 
 Marquis de Salvo form one of the prettiest romances 
 in the Italian language. Everything in her destiny 
 was touched with adventure : nor was it the least of 
 her claims to sympathy that she had incurred the 
 special enmity of Napoleon." * 
 
 It is probable that this friendshp with Mrs. Spencer 
 Smith involved Byron in a quarrel with the General's 
 aide-de-camp, to which the following letter refers: 
 [R. E.] 
 
 Byron to Captain Gary, A.D.G. 
 
 3, Strada di Tobni [Malta], 
 September 18th, 1809. 
 
 Sib, — The marked insolence of your behaviour to me 
 the first time I had the honour of meeting you at table, 
 I should have passed over from respect to the General, 
 had I not been informed that you have since mentioned 
 my name in a public company with comments not to be 
 tolerated, more particularly after the circumstance to 
 which I allude. I have only just heard this, or I 
 should not have postponed this letter to so late a period. 
 
 As the vessel in which I am to embark must sail 
 the first change of wind, the sooner our business is 
 arranged the better. 
 
 To-morrow morning at 6 will be the best hour, at any 
 place you think proper, as I do not know where the 
 
 ^ Strada di Torni. 
 
 a Gait, p. 68. Letters and Journals, i. 244, calls it a platonic 
 friendship ; cf. Byron's letter to Lady Melbourne, 15 Sept. 1812.
 
 6 TRAVELS IN GREECE AND TURKEY [ch. i 
 
 officers and gentlemen settle these affairs in your 
 island. 
 The favour of an immediate answer will oblige 
 
 Your obedient servant, Byron.* 
 
 Cap° Caby [A.D.C. to Gen' Oakes]. 
 
 On the 20th September, Byron and Hobhouse left 
 Malta in a brig-of-war, the Spider, Captain Oliver, for 
 Prevesa. In a few days after leaving Malta they were 
 in the entrance of the Gulf of Lepanto, and landed at 
 Patras, whither part of the convoy in company with the 
 Spider was bound. After staying at Patras a few 
 hours, the brig passed up the channel between Ithaca 
 and Acarnania, skirted the Leucadian promontory, 
 or Sappho's Leap, and anchored at Prevesa. From 
 Prevesa they sailed down the gulf to Arta ; proceeding 
 thence up country to Yanina, the chief residence of 
 Ali Pacha. The great man was not at that time at 
 Y^anina, so the travellers proceeded to Tepeleni, a 
 journey of about one hundred miles. On their arrival 
 at Tepeleni they went at once to the residence of Ali, 
 who received them with every mark of friendship. 
 They were lodged in the Palace for four days, and 
 had several audiences of the Vizier. From Tepeleni 
 Byron and Hobhouse returned to Yanina, and thence 
 to Prevesa, where, on account of the country being 
 infested by brigands, they embarked on board an armed 
 galliot of Ali Pacha's which was manned by forty men. 
 They hoped to reach Patras, but no sooner were they 
 clear of the port than a gale sprang up, and, everything 
 in the vessel being out of order, all her sails were split, 
 
 1 " Sept. 9, 1809, [19th ?] This evening Byron told me that he 
 was going to fight a Captain C.C.C. having accepted a challenge from 
 him for the next morning at 6 o'clock. Eventually the warlike 
 Captain agreed to a reconciliation." Recollections oj a Long Life, 
 by Lord Broughton, i. 14.
 
 1808-11] GREECE— CONSTANTINOPLE 7 
 
 and the mainyard was broken. In an unpublished 
 letter to his sister Hobhouse thus describes the scene : 
 
 " The Captain wept bitterly, and all his Turks jumped 
 below from fright and sea-eickness. We thought it was 
 aU over, and made up oiu* minds to go out of the world 
 as composedly as possible. . . . Fortunately the wind 
 abated, and by midnight we were near the shores of 
 Albania. Next day we left our brave captain in a 
 little bay under the mountains of Suli, and being 
 furnished with horses, in two days again reached Prevesa 
 for the third time. Having tried the sea in vain, we 
 resolved to go by land in despite of the brigands, and 
 being furnished with a guard of 35 Albanian soldiers, 
 we traversed Acarnania, crossed the Acheloiis, and 
 embarked at Missolonghi for Patras, where we arrived 
 in a few horn's. As for brigands, we saw nothing of 
 them, though we heard at one village that they had 
 made their appearance in large bodies, and shot 
 two men close to the houses a few days before our 
 arrival. One day we travelled for eight hours through 
 a thick oak forest, where we saw the earth thrown up 
 fresh in three little heaps over the bodies of brigands 
 who had been shot there in a late encounter. Though 
 we were a week in this coimtry, we did not meet one 
 traveller on the roads during the whole passage through 
 this part of Greece." 
 
 On 19 March 1810 Byron writes to his Mother : 
 " I have traversed the greatest part of Greece, besides 
 Epirus &c. &c., have resided ten weeks at Athens, 
 and am now on the Asiatic side on my way to Con- 
 stantinople." 
 
 On the 10th April Byron again writes to his Mother : 
 " To-morrow, or this evening, I sail for Constantinople 
 in the Salsette frigate, of 36 guns. She retiurns to 
 England with our Ambassador Robert (afterwards the 
 Right Honourable Sir Robert) Adair whom she is 
 going up on purpose to receive."
 
 8 TRAVELS IN GREECE AND TURKEY [ch. i 
 
 The iSalsette anchored between the Seven Towers and 
 the Seraglio, off Constantinople, on the 13 May 1810 ; 
 on the following day Byron and Hobhouse landed, and 
 rode to their inn, which was situated at the corner of 
 the main street of Pera. On 28 May a difficulty arose 
 as to Byron's precedence in an official procession which 
 was arranged to proceed to the Government House at 
 Top-Kaneh. Hobhouse says ^ : "As Canning ^ refused 
 to walk behind him, Byron went home. It took him 
 quite three days to get over this trivial contretemps." 
 
 In referring to this incident Gait,' who must have 
 heard fuU particulars at first hand, says : " It has grown 
 into a custom, at Constantinople, when the foreign 
 ministers are admitted to audiences of ceremony with 
 the Sultan, to allow the subjects and travellers of their 
 respective nations to accompany them, both to swell 
 the pomp of the spectacle, and to gratify their curiosity. 
 Mr. Adair, our Ambassador, had his audience of leave 
 appointed soon after Lord Byron's arrival, and his 
 Lordship was anxious to occupy a station of distiuction 
 in the procession. JVIr. Adair assured him that he could 
 obtain no particular place ; that in the arrangements for 
 the ceremonial, only the persons connected with the 
 embassy could be considered, and that the Turks neither 
 acknowledged the precedence, nor could be requested 
 to consider the distmctions of our nobUity. Byron, 
 however, still persisted, and Mr. Adair was obliged to 
 refer him on the subject to the Austrian Internuncio, 
 a high authority in questions of etiquette, whose 
 opinion was decidedly against Byron's pretension." 
 
 The following letter, though written nearly two 
 months after the event, bears upon it. It is 
 
 ^ Recollections of a Long Life, i. 30. 
 
 2 Afterwards Lord Stratford de Redcliffe. 
 
 3 Life of Byron, p. 153.
 
 1808-11] SIR ROBERT ADAIR 9 
 
 likely that in order to satisfy himself, and for the 
 guidance of his successor, IVIr. Adair had referred the 
 question to his own Foreign Office, and upon receipt 
 of their reply he communicated its tenor to Byron. 
 [R. E.] 
 
 Byron to His Excellency Robert Adair 
 
 Pera, July Uh, 1810. 
 
 Sm, — I regret that your Excellency should have 
 deemed me, or my concerns of sufficient importance 
 to give you a thought, beyond the moment when they 
 were forced (perhaps unreasonably) on your attention. 
 
 On all occasions of this kind, one of the parties must 
 be wrong — at present it has fallen to my lot ; your 
 authorities (particularly the German) are too many for 
 me. 
 
 I shall therefore make what atonement I can, by 
 cheerfully following not only your Excellency, " but 
 your servant or your maid, your ox, or your ass, or 
 anything that is yours." 
 
 I have to apologise for not availing myself of your 
 Excellency's kind invitation and hospitable intentions 
 in my favour, but the fact is, that I am never very well 
 adapted for, or very happy in, society, and I happen at 
 this time, from some particular circumstances, to be 
 even less so than usual. 
 
 Your Excellency will, I trust, attribute my omissions 
 to the right cause, or to any cause rather than disrespect 
 in your 
 
 Truly obliged and very obedient humble servant, 
 
 Byron. 
 
 On 10 July 1810, the British Ambassador, Robert 
 Adair, had his audience of the Sultan, and on the 
 14th the Salsette saUed from Constantinople. Bjo-on 
 and Hobhouse were on board. The frigate touched at 
 the island of Zea to land Bjn^on, who thence made his 
 way to Athens. On 17 July the two friends parted, and 
 Hobhouse arrived at Malta in the Salsette on 27 July.
 
 10 TRAVELS IN GREECE AND TURKEY [ch. i 
 Byron to Hobhouse 
 
 Pateas, July 29th, 1810. 
 
 Dear Hobhouse, — The same day which saw me 
 ashore at Zea, set me forth once more upon the high 
 seas, where I had the pleasure of seeing the frigate * 
 in the Doldrums by the light of sun and moon. 
 
 Before daybreak I got into the Attics at Thaskalio, 
 thence I dispatched men to Keratia for horses, and in 
 ten hours from landing I was at Athens. 
 
 There I was greeted by my Lord Sligo,^ and next day 
 Messrs. North, Knight, and Fazakerly paid me visits. 
 Sligo has a brig with 50 men who won't work, 12 guns 
 that refuse to go off, and sails that have cut every wind 
 except a contrary one, and then they are as willing as 
 may be. He is sick of the concern, but an engagement of 
 six months prevents him from parting with this precious 
 ark. He would travel with me to Corinth, though as you 
 may suppose I was already heartily disgusted with 
 travelling in company. He has " en suite " a painter, 
 a captain, a gentleman misinterpreter (who boxes 
 with the painter), besides sundry idle English varlets. 
 
 We were obliged to have twenty-nine horses in all. 
 
 The captain and the Drogueman were left at Athens 
 to kill bullocks for the crew, and the Marquis and the 
 limner, with a ragged Turk by way of Tartar, and the 
 ship's carpenter in the capacity of linguist, with two 
 servants (one of whom had the gripes) clothed both in 
 leather breeches (the thermometer 125° ! !), followed 
 over the hills and far away. 
 
 On our route, the poor limner in these gentle latitudes 
 was ever and anon condemned to bask for half-an-hour, 
 that he might produce what he himself termed a " bel- 
 lissimo sketche " (pardon the orthography of the last 
 word) of the surroimding country. 
 
 You may also suppose that a man of the Marchese's 
 kidney was not very easy in his seat. As for the 
 
 1 The Salsette. 
 
 * Howe Peter, the 4th Earl and 2nd Marquis of Sligo (1788-1816), 
 had been Governor and Vice- Admiral of Jamaica. His name occurs 
 frequently in this Correspondence. See p. 61, note.
 
 1808-11] LORD SLIGO 11 
 
 servants, they and their leather breeches were equally 
 immovable at the end of the first stage, Fletcher, too, 
 with his usual acuteness, contrived at Megara to ram 
 his damned clumsy foot into a boiling tea-kettle. 
 
 At Corinth we separated, the M[arquis] for Tripolitza, 
 I for Patras, 
 
 Here hath just arrived the chirurgeon of the Spider 
 from Zante, who wiU take this letter to Malta. I hope 
 it will find you warm. You cannot conceive what a 
 delightful companion you are now you are gone. 
 
 Sligo has told me some things that ought to set you 
 and me by the ears, but they shan't ; and as a proof 
 of it, I won't tell you what they are till we meet, but in 
 the meantime I exhort you to behave weU in polite 
 society. His Lordship has been very kind, and as I 
 crossed the Ihstmus ^ of Corinth, offered if I chose to 
 take me to that of Darien, but I liked it not, for you 
 have cured me of " villainous company." 
 
 I am about — after a Giro of the Morea — to move to 
 Athens again, and thence I know not where ; perhaps to 
 Englonde, Malta, Sicily, iEgypt, or the Low Countries. 
 
 I suppose you are at Malta or Palermo. I amuse 
 myself alone very much to my satisfaction, riding, 
 bathing, sweating, hearing IVIr. Paul's musical clock, 
 looking at his red breeches ; we visit him every evening. 
 
 Nourse and Dacres had been at Athens scribbling 
 aU sorts of ribaldry over my old apartment, where 
 Sligo, before my arrival, had added to your B.A. an 
 A.S.S., and scrawled the compliments of Jackson, 
 DeviUe, Miss Cameron, and "7 am very unappy Sam 
 Jennings.''^ 
 
 Wallace is incarcerated, and wanted Sligo to bail 
 him, at the " BeU and Savage," Fleet Rules. 
 
 The news are not surprising. What think you ? 
 
 Write to me from Malta, the Mediterranean, or 
 Ingleterra, to care of o /j.ov6\oo Xrpdve. 
 
 Have you cleansed my pistols ? and dined with the 
 " Gineral ? " 
 
 1 Spelt correctly first, and then erased.
 
 12 TRAVELS IN GREECE AND TURKEY [ch. i 
 
 My compliments to the church of St. John's, and 
 peace to the ashes of Ball.' 
 
 How is the Skipper ? ^ I have drank his cherry- 
 brandy, and his rum has floated over half the Morea. 
 Plaudite et valete. Yours ever, Byeon. 
 
 Tripolitza, August I6th, 1810. 
 
 Dear Hobhouse, — I am on the rack of setting off 
 for Argos amidst the usual creaking, swearing, loading, 
 and neighing of sixteen horses and as many men, 
 serrugees included. 
 
 You have probably received one letter dated Patras, 
 and I send this at a venture. 
 
 Vely Pasha received me even better than his father 
 did, though he is to join the Sultan, and the city is full 
 of troops and confusion, which, as he said, prevented 
 him from paying proper attention. 
 
 He has given me a very pretty horse, and a most 
 particular invitation to meet him at Larissa, which last 
 is singular enough, as he recommended a different route 
 to Lord Sligo, who asked leave to accompany him to 
 the Danube. 
 
 I asked no such thing, but on his enquiry where I 
 meant to go, and receiving for answer that I was about 
 to return to Albania, for the purpose of penetrating 
 higher up the coimtry, he replied, "No, you must 
 not take that route, but go round by Larissa, where I 
 shall remain some time, on my way. I wiU send to 
 Athens, and you shall join me ; we will eat and drink 
 and go a hunting." 
 
 He said he wished aU the old men (specifying under 
 that epithet North, Forrest, and Strane,) to go to his 
 father, but the young ones to come to him, to use his 
 own expression, " Vecchio con Vecchio, Giovane con 
 Giovane." He honoured me with the appellations of 
 his friend and brother, and hoped that we should be on 
 good terms, not for a few days but for life. 
 
 1 Rear- Admiral Sir Alexander Ball, Governor of Malta. 
 
 2 Captain, afterwards Commodore, Bathurst, R.N. He com- 
 manded the Salsette.
 
 1808-11] ALBANIA— ATHENS 13 
 
 The first time I saw him he received me staiuling, 
 accompanied me at my departure to the door of the 
 audience chamber, and told me I was a TrakiKapt and 
 an €v/u,op(f)co TraiSc. 
 
 He was very facetious with Andreas and Viscillie, and 
 recommended that my Albanians' heads should be cut 
 off if they behaved Ul. 
 
 I shall write to you from Larissa, and inform you 
 of our proceedings in that city. In the meantime I 
 sojourn at Athens. 
 
 You remember Nicolo at Athens, Lusieri's * wife's 
 brother. Give my compliments to Matthews, from 
 whom I expect a congratulatory letter, 
 
 I have a thousand anecdotes for him and you, but at 
 present, tl va ku/jlco ? I have neither time nor space, 
 but in the words of Dawes, " I have things in store," 
 
 I have scribbled thus much. Where shaU I send it ? 
 Why, to Malta or Paternoster Row. 
 
 Hobby, you wretch, how is the Miscellany ^ ? that 
 damned and damnable work. " What has the learned 
 world said to your Paradoxes ? I hope you did not 
 forget the importance of Monogamy." 
 
 Strane has just arrived with bags of piastres, so that 
 I must conclude by the usual phrase of 
 
 Yours, &c, &c,, Byron. 
 
 The Convent, Athens, August 23rd, 1810. 
 
 My dear Hobhouse, — Lord Sligo's unmanageable 
 brig being remanded to Malta, with a large quantity 
 of vases, amounting in value (according to the 
 
 ^ Lusieri, whom Byron so frequently mentions, was an Italian 
 artist employed by Lord Elgin to make drawings of sculptures, etc., 
 at Athens. 
 
 2 Hobhouse's "Miscellany" was published in 1809, under the 
 title of " Imitations and Translations from the Antient and Modern 
 Classics : Together with original Poems never before published." 
 The book had no success, and Hobhouse [see Recollections of a Long 
 Life, i. 5] says : " I had been unwise enough to put my name to a 
 volume of ' Poetical Miscellanies,' of which, although Lord Byron 
 was one of the contributors, I soon became heartily ashamed."
 
 14 TRAVELS IN GREECE AND TURKEY [ch. i 
 
 depreciation of Fauriel) to one hundred and fifty 
 piastres, I cannot resist the temptation of assailing 
 you in this third letter, which I trust wiU find you 
 better than your deserts, and no worse than my wishes 
 can make you. 
 
 I have girated the Morea, and was presented with a 
 very fine horse (a staUion), and honoured with a number 
 of squeezes and speeches by VeUy Pasha, besides a most 
 pressing invitation to meet him at Larissa in his way 
 to the wars. 
 
 I returned to Athens by Argos, where I found Lord 
 Sligo with a painter, who has got a fever with sketching 
 at midday, and a dragoman who has actually lied 
 himself into a lockjaw. 
 
 I am most auspiciously settled in the Convent, which 
 is more commodious than any tenement I have yet 
 occupied, with room for my suite ; and it is by no means 
 solitary, seeing there is not only " il Padre Abbate," 
 but his " schuola," consisting of six " Ragazzi," aU my 
 most particular allies. 
 
 These gentlemen being almost (saving Fauriel and 
 Lusieri) my only associates, it is but proper their 
 character, religion, and morals, should be described. 
 
 Of this goodly company three are Catholics, and three 
 are Greeks, which schismatics I have already set a 
 boxing to the great amusement of the Father, who 
 rejoices to see the Catholics conquer. 
 
 Their names are Barthelemi, Giuseppe, Nicolo, 
 Zani, and two anonymous, at least in my memory. Of 
 these, Barthelemi is a " simplice FanciuUo," according 
 to the account of the Father, whose favourite is 
 Giuseppe, who sleeps in the lantern of Demosthenes. 
 
 We have nothing but riot from noon to night. The 
 first time I mingled with these sylphs, after about two 
 minutes' reconnoitring, the amiable Signor Barthelemi, 
 without any previous notice, seated himself by me, 
 and after observing by way of compliment that my 
 " Signoria " was the " piu beUo " of his English 
 acquaintance, saluted me on the left cheek, for which 
 freedom being reproved by Giuseppe, who very
 
 1808-11] STRANGE COMPANIONS 15 
 
 properly informed him that I was " fieyako^ " ; he 
 told him I was his " ^/A.09," and "by his beard" 
 he would do so again, adding, in reply to the question 
 " hta rl aa-Kaaere ? " you see he laughs, as in good 
 truth I did heartily. 
 
 But my friend, as you may easily imagine, is Nioolo, 
 who, by-the-bye, is my Italian master, and we are 
 already very philosophical. I am his " Padrone " 
 and his " amico," and the Lord knows what besides. 
 It is about two hours since, that, after informing me he 
 was most desirous to foUow him (that is me) over the 
 world, he concluded by telling me it was proper for 
 us not only to live, but " morire insieme." 
 
 The latter I hope to avoid — as much of the former as 
 he pleases. 
 
 I am awakened in the morning by those imps shout- 
 ing " Venite abasso," and the friar gravely observes 
 it is " bisogno bastonare " everybody before the 
 studies can possibly commence. 
 
 Besides these lads, my suite, — to which I have added 
 a Tartar and a youth to look after my two new saddle 
 horses, — my suite, I say, are very obstreperous, and 
 drink skinfuls of Zean wine at eight paras the olne 
 daily. Then we have several Albanian women washing 
 in the " giardino," whose hours of relaxation are spent 
 in running pins into Fletcher's backside. 
 
 " Damnata di mi, if I have seen such a spectaculo in 
 my way from Viterbo." 
 
 In short, what with the women, and the boys, and the 
 suite, we are very disorderly. But I am vastly happy 
 and childish, and shall have a world of anecdotes for 
 you and the " citoyen." ^ 
 
 ^ Charles Skinner Matthews was drowned in the Cam early in 
 August 1811. For a description of the accident, see letter from 
 Henry Drury to Francis Hodgson (Life of the Rev. Francis Hodgson, 
 i. 182, 185). He was a great friend of Hobhouse at Cambridge, and 
 was also an intimate associate of Byron at " a very idle period of hia 
 college life." Matthews was Ninth Wrangler in 1805 ; First Mem- 
 bers' Prizeman in 1807, and a Fellow of Downing in 1808. Although 
 by nature indolent, he possessed extraordinary abilities and was able
 
 16 TRAVELS IN GREECE AND TURKEY [ch. i 
 
 Intrigue flourishes : the old woman, Theresa's ' 
 mother, was mad enough to imagine I was going to 
 marry the girl ; but I have better amusement. 
 Andreas is fooling with Dudu, as usual, and Mariana 
 has made a conquest of Dervise Tahiri ; Vircillie, 
 Fletcher and Sullee, my new Tartar, have each a 
 mistress — " Vive 1' Amour." 
 
 I am learning Italian, and this day translated an ode 
 of Horace, " Exegi monumentum," into that language. 
 I chatter with everybody, good or bad, and tradute 
 prayers out of the mass ritual ; but my lessons, though 
 very long, are sadly interrupted by scamperings, and 
 eating fruit, and peltings and playings ; and I am in fact 
 at school again, and make as little improvement now 
 as I did there, my time being wasted in the same way. 
 
 However, it is too good to last ; I am going to make 
 a second tour of Attica with Lusieri, who is a new ally 
 of mine, and Nicolo goes with me at his own most 
 pressing solicitation, " per mare per terras." " Forse " 
 you may see us in Inghilterra, but " non so, come, &c." 
 For the present, good-even, Buona sera a vos signoria. 
 Bacio le mani : — August 24th, 1810. 
 
 I am about to take my daily ride to the Pu'aeus, where 
 I swim for an hour despite of the heat ; here hath been 
 an Englishman ycleped Watson, who died and is buried 
 in the Tempio of Theseus. I knew him not, but I am 
 told that the surgeon of Lord Sligo's brig slew him with 
 an improper potion, and a cold bath. 
 
 Lord Sligo's crew are sadly addicted to liquor. 
 He is in some apprehension of a scrape with the Navy 
 concerning certain mariners of the King's ships. 
 
 He himseK is now at Argos with his hospital, but 
 intends to winter in Athens. I think he wiU be sick of 
 
 to overthrow all antagonists. " His powers of mind," saya Byron, 
 " shown in the attainment of greater honours, against the ablest 
 candidates, than those of any graduate on record at Cambridge, have 
 sufficiently established his fame on the spot where it was acquired ; 
 while his softer qualities live in the recollection of friends who loved 
 him too well to envy his superiority." (See letter of August 1811.) 
 1 "The Maid of Athens."
 
 1808-11] PATRAS— FEVER 17 
 
 it, poor soul, he has all the indecision of your humble 
 servant, without the relish for the ridiculous which 
 makes my life supportable. 
 
 I wish you were here to partake of a number of 
 waggeries, which you can hardly find in the gun-room * 
 or in Grub Street, but then you are so very crabbed and 
 disagreeable, that when the laugh is over I rejoice in 
 your absence. After all, I do love thee, Hobby, thou 
 hast so many good qualities, and so many bad ones, it 
 is impossible to live with or without thee. 
 
 Nine in the Evening. 
 
 I have, as usual, swum across the Piraeus, the Signor 
 Nicolo also laved, but he makes as bad a hand in the 
 water as L'Abbe Hyacinth at Falmouth ; it is a curious 
 thing that the Turks when they bathe wear their lower 
 garments, as your humble servant always doth, but 
 the Greeks not ; however, questo Giovane e vergognoso. 
 
 Lord Sligo's surgeon has assisted very materially the 
 malignant fever now fashionable here ; another man 
 dead to-day, two men a week, like fighting Bob Acres 
 in the country. ^ Faurel says he is like the surgeon whom 
 the Venetians fitted out against the Turks, with whom 
 they were then at war. 
 
 Yours ever, Byron. 
 
 Patras, September 25th, 1810. 
 
 My dear Hobhotjse, — ^I am at present in a very 
 ridiculous situation, under the hands of Dr. RomaneUi, 
 and a fever which hath confined me to my bed for these 
 three days past, but by the blessing of God and two 
 glysters, I am now able to sit up, but much debilitated. 
 
 1 will describe my situation in a parody on Pope's 
 lines on the Duke of Buckingham, the which I composed 
 during an interval for your edification. 
 
 On a cold room's cold floor, within a bed 
 Of iron, with three coverlids like lead, 
 A coat and breeches dangling o'er a nook, 
 Where sits a doctor and prescribes a puke, 
 
 » The gun-room is the midshipman's mess in every man-of-war. 
 
 2 The Rivals, Sheridan, 1775.
 
 18 TRAVELS IN GREECE AND TURKEY [ch. i 
 
 Poor B — r — n sweats, — alas ! how changed from hira, 
 
 So plump in feature, and so round in limb. 
 
 The scene of profanation, and champagne, 
 
 Or just as gay with scribblers in a ring 
 
 Of twenty hungry authors banqueting. 
 
 Here victor of a fever, and its friends, 
 
 Physicians and their art, his lordship mends. 
 
 I have been vomited and purged according to rule, 
 and as my fever has almost subsided, I hope to weather 
 this bout, which has been pretty tight, I assure you. 
 Yet if I do fall by the Glyster pipe of Romanelli, 
 recollect my injunction. 
 
 Odious ! in boards, 'twould any Bard provoke 
 (Were the last words that dying BjTon spoke) ; 
 No, let some charming cuts and frontispiece 
 Adorn my volume, and the sale increase. 
 One would not be unpublished when one's dead, 
 And, Hobhouse, let my works be bound in Red. 
 
 Pateas, October 2nd, 1810. 
 
 Dear Yani, — I have made a tolerable tour of the 
 Morea, and visited Vely Pasha, who gave me a very 
 pretty horse. 
 
 The other day I went to Olympia. Argos, Napoli, 
 and Mantinea I saw in my route to and from Tripolitza. 
 
 I have seen a good deal of Lord Sligo ; by the bye, 
 there is a silly report all over the Morea, that he and I 
 quarrelled, fought, and were wounded at Argos, there 
 is not a word of truth in it from begmning to end. 
 
 If I kept any journal your request would be 
 immediately complied with, but I have none. 
 
 Vely is gone to the Danube. I have been here on 
 business with Strane, but the moment Nicolo and 
 myself are enough recovered to set out, I shall proceed 
 again to Athens. I lodge in the convent. 
 
 Perhaps I am in possession of anecdotes that would 
 amuse you and the Citoyen,^ but I must defer the detail 
 
 ^ Charles Skinner Matthews.
 
 1808-11] PATRAS— ATHENS 19 
 
 till we meet, I have written to you three times since I 
 left you in Zea, and direct my letters to Ridgways, 
 where I presume you will be found on Sundays. You 
 are now in England. What you tell me of the 
 MisceUany grieves me (in spite of Rochefoucault) ' ; I 
 commend your design of not letting the public off so 
 easily ; come out as a tourist, prose must go down. 
 
 But don't ask half a guinea for your next book. 
 Consider, half a guinea carries a man to the Opera, and 
 if he goes to Hookham's, 'tis odds but he buys more 
 tickets than books, aye, and cheaper too ; try seven 
 shillings, JMr. Hobhouse, seven shillings, sir, stick to 
 that, and let me tell you, when you have received seven 
 hundred seven shilling pieces, they will cut a figure on 
 your little deal writing-table. I have a regard for you, 
 sir, and out of it, I beg you to strike off the odd three 
 and sixpence. 
 
 I have nothing to request in England ; everybody 
 with whom I am at all connected seems asleep ; as far 
 as regards me, I shan't awake them. Hanson you may 
 just fiUup on the nose, and ask him from me if he is 
 insane, not to have answered my letters. As to the 
 others, their conduct is optional, and I have nothing 
 to say. I shall certainly be in England in a few months, 
 perhaps before, but I do not wish this to go forth, as it 
 wUl only make Hanson more dilatory. If you hear 
 anything you wiU write, and I will apprise you of my 
 intentions as they rise and subside, for it would be very 
 absurd in me to pretend to any regular plan. You have 
 no doubt, a deal to do and say and hear and reply ; 
 wishing you well through it, 
 
 I am yours very sincerely &c., Byron. 
 
 Athens, November \2th, 1810. 
 
 Dear Hobhouse, — I write to you to apprise Mr. 
 Hanson (as I have done in a letter, but wish you to 
 repeat my refusal) that I will not sell Newstead accord- 
 ing to his suggestion. 
 
 ^ " In the adversity of ovir best friends we often find something 
 which does not displease us." Maxim 245. 
 1—3
 
 20 TRAVELS IN GREECE AND TURKEY [cii. i 
 
 I shall enter into no details but state the sum total, 
 viz. that I am ruined. For further particulars 
 enquire at No. 6.^ 
 
 My compts. to Matthews and Davies * ; send Mrs. 
 Pigot a copy of your MisceUany, and believe me 
 
 Yours very truly, Byron. 
 
 P.S. I beg you will repeat very seriously for me, that 
 let the consequence be as it may, ruin to myself and 
 aU connected with me (D. and the old women inclusive) 
 I will not sell Newstead. 
 
 A^o, ox, yoh, yeo (Albanesico), Noa (Nottingham- 
 shirico) Now, /u,?), ouk, having given my negative in all 
 the tongues I can refuse in, I call Christ, Mohamet, 
 Confucius and Zoroaster to witness my sincerity and 
 Cam Hobhouse to make it manifest to the ears and eyes 
 of men, and I further ask his pardon for a long post- 
 script to a short letter, 
 
 P.S. 2nd. If anybody is savage and wants satis- 
 faction for my satire, write, that I may return and give 
 it.^* 
 
 Athens, November 26th, 1810. 
 
 Dear Hobhouse, — Five or six letters are already on 
 their passage, or perhaps arrived, smce July, and I 
 suppose after aU your delays they wUl find you in 
 London. 
 
 1 have in my former sheets told you where I have been 
 and what I have been domg, or rather not domg, for 
 my life has, with the exception of a very few moments, 
 never been anything but a yawn. 
 
 * Mrs. Pigot, with her daughter Elizabeth Bridget, and two sons 
 lived on Southwell Green, in a house opposite to Mrs. Byron's 
 Burgage Manor. 
 
 2 Scrope Berdmore Davies (1783-1852). Byron before he went on 
 this tour borrowed £4,800 from Davies, a sum which he repaid in 
 1814, and dedicated to him his Parisina. Byron in his MS. journal 
 (Life, pp. 129, 130), says : " One of the cleverest men I ever knew, 
 in conversation, was Scrope Berdmore Davies." 
 
 3 English Bards and Scotch Reviewers.
 
 1808-11] "ENGLISH BARDS" 21 
 
 Here have been Lords and Ladies with many others 
 of good report. Some have seen you at Malta and some 
 have not. They tell me sad news of my good-for- 
 nothing acquaintances ; Sir G. W. and Sir B. G. are 
 ruined (by-the-bye so am I but I wrote you that news 
 by Fletcher) and Wallace is incarcerated ; your friend 
 Baillie is the only lucky man I hear of, his stepmother 
 is dead ; can't you inoculate yom's with the same 
 disorder ? 
 
 Letters I have had, yours of Cagliari, and two biUets 
 from Hanson ; he wants me to sell Newstead, but I 
 won't and pray repeat my negative as strongly as 
 possible. My affairs are greatly embarrassed, and I 
 see no prospect of their ever bemg better, but I will not 
 sell my abbey for man or the Devil. 
 
 Tell Davies in a very few months I shall be at home 
 to relieve him from his responsibility, which he would 
 never have incurred so long had I been aware " of the 
 law's delp^y " and the (not Insolence) but " Indolence 
 of Office." I presume he is very wroth, and in that mood, 
 to use his frequent quotation, in which the " Dove 
 would peck the iJ.stridge." I shall be glad to meet 
 him on friendly terms, and it will not be my fault if we 
 meet on others, but I cannot " truckle to his maudlin 
 humours." 
 
 You refresh me greatly with the tidings of my 
 satire ^ ; if there be any of that martial spirit to require 
 trial by combat, you will inform me which be they, the 
 same impulse which made " Otho a Warrior " will 
 make me one too. 
 
 And so Lucien B.' is " lagged " to Malta, he is really 
 a philasopher. 
 
 I have now seen the World, that is the most ancient 
 of the ancient part. I have spent my little all, I have 
 tasted of all sorts of pleasure (so teU the Citoyen) ; 
 I have nothing more to hope, and may begin to con- 
 sider of the most eligible way of walkmg out of it ; 
 
 1 English Bards, etc. 
 
 2 Prince Lucien Bonaparte.
 
 22 TRAVELS IN GREECE AND TURKEY [ch. i 
 
 probably I may find in England somebody inclined to 
 save me the trouble. 
 
 I wish I could find some of Socrates' s Hemlock, 
 but Lusieri tells me it don't poison people now- 
 a-days. ^ 
 
 I had a fever in the Morea, but my constitution beat 
 both it and the doctors. 
 
 You talk of a tour (in print). I have told Cockerell 
 to paint for you, but I have no journal of anything 
 worth journalising. Why, man ! you have materials 
 enow without ramming in my damned nonsense, as 
 Diggory says.' Here is a Scotch surgeon going to 
 write on Greece. You must be beforehand ; his will 
 be very heavy work, I am sure, if I may judge by his 
 jargon, it will make admirable subject for a review 
 should you feel venomous. 
 
 I expect to find you in the press ; pray what's 
 become of the Miscellany ? 
 
 Where is Hodgson 1 ' where Dallas ? * your prize 
 essay ! and the forty pounds annexed. 
 
 That timberhead Fletcher is sent home with a paper 
 of some consequence to my mother ; I don't miss him 
 at all. Vircillie and Dervise are admirable waiters. 
 I have a bandy-legged Turkish cook, and Nicolo 
 Giraud is my Dragoman and Major Domo. 
 
 I have preferred your petition of marbles to Fletcher, 
 who hath consented to take them, but he hath an ill 
 memory. Heaven help him ! You will write to Malta 
 
 1 In later years he sent Mr. Murray some hemlock gathered under 
 the walls of Athens which he regarded as the descendant of that 
 which Socrates took. The dust to which it is now reduced is care- 
 fully preserved in Albemarle Street. 
 
 2 She Stoops to Conquer, Goldsmith, 1773. 
 
 3 Rev. Francis Hodgson (1781-1852), Provost of Eton in 1840. 
 
 * Robert Charles Dallas (1754-1842). Dallas's sister married 
 George Anson Byron, son of Admiral Hon. Jolin Byron. Dallas 
 introduced himself to Byron by writing to compliment him on his 
 Hours of Idleness, English Bards and Childe Harold were brought 
 out under Dallas's auspices, the profits of which Byron made over 
 to him. He also gave him the profits arising from the Corsair. 
 (See also Letters and Journals, i. 1G8. )
 
 1808-11] LIFE IN ATHENS 23 
 
 till you hear of my arrival, and I will answer as well 
 as I can. 
 
 Sandford Graham, whom you remember at Trmity, 
 dines with me to-morrow (the 28th). He teUs me that 
 Davies is to be married to an heiress whom he picked 
 up at Bath. 
 
 I am now an Italoquist, having been taught that 
 tongue by necessity and Nicolo Girana, the brother of 
 Lusieri's should-be wife. 
 
 Andreas Zantachi I sent off with your Malta letter, 
 so I had no choice left between pantomime and 
 silence, except gabbling Romaic and Italian, in which 
 last I am intelligible. My Greek is erarri kuI ira-rr], 
 and my Latin of course walked off with the late drago- 
 man of Dominus Macgill. 
 
 CockereU, Foster, Graham, Baron HaUer (a Teutonic 
 and Cimbrian traveller), Lusieri, and myself, are to set 
 off fxedavptov for Cape Colonna m great force. A 
 Bolognese physician is to be presented to me to-morrow 
 at his own petition, having heard that I am the celebrated 
 aquatic genius who swam across the Hellespont when 
 he was at Abydos. I believe the feUow wants to make 
 experiments with me in diving. 
 
 You are now, Yani Hobhouse, digesting your remarks 
 for Lintot ^ or Jacob Tonson,* and anticipating publica- 
 tion with your tongue to Matthews, or some such 
 patient listener. 
 
 I suppose you have made the tour of Longman's back 
 shop, and smmed yourself in the smiles of Mrs. Ridgway. 
 If you have anything of your own, or my works, 
 good or bad, let us have it. I shaU be glad to hear that 
 they are all alive. 
 
 You have sailed so long in the Salsette you must 
 be quite a Tarpaulin. Kill your stepmother, and 
 
 ^ Barnaby Bernard Lintot (1675-1736) published poems and plays 
 for Pope, Gay, Steele, and Rowe. He published Pope's Rape of the 
 Lock, and his translation of the Iliad. 
 
 2 Jacob Tonson, Lintot's contemporary, was also a publisher. 
 He bought the copyright of Paradise Lost, and was much associated 
 with Dryden. He died in 173G.
 
 24 TRAVELS IN GREECE AND TURKEY [ch. i 
 
 reconcile yourself to your father. I hope your brother 
 was not in that damned advanced guard/ which has 
 lately taken up its everlasting position at some place 
 in Portugal according to the Frankfort Gazette.^ 
 
 Fletcher I have sent home with despatches ; he is in 
 great tribulation with numskull fuU of gales of wind, 
 French privateers, Galliots, Black joke lugger, pressing 
 at home, thieves in the Morea, row at his Castle with 
 Sally, and a world of woes. 
 
 As for me, I am finished, for I will not sell, and have 
 nothing left for the " Gemman as goes round for the 
 tax upon income," according to the Salsette slang. 
 
 Believe me, Dear Yani, Yours ever, B * * *. 
 
 P. S., December 5th, 1810. 
 
 Deab Cam, — ^I open my letter to mention an escape. 
 Graham, Cockercll, Lusieri, myself, and a Bavarian 
 baron went to Cape Colonna, where we spent a day. 
 
 At that time five-and- twenty Mainotes (pirates) 
 were in the caves at the foot of the cliff, with some 
 Greek boatmen, their prisoners. 
 
 They demanded of these who were the Franks above ? 
 One of the Greeks knew me, and they were preparing 
 to attack us, when, seeing my Albanians, and con- 
 jecturing there were others in the vicinity, they were 
 seized with a panic, and marched off. 
 
 We were all armed (about twelve with our attendants), 
 some with fusils, and all with pistols and ataghans, 
 but though we were prepared for resistance, I am 
 inclined to think we are rather better without a battle. 
 
 Some of the Greeks whom they had taken, told me 
 afterwards they saw me with my double-barrel, 
 mounted on a chestnut horse, and described the rest 
 of our party very accurately. 
 
 Two of them arrived yesterday, released, but stripped 
 of everything by the Mainotes. 
 
 These last deliberated some time, but as we were in 
 
 1 Battle of Busaco, Sept. 27. This brother, Benjamin, was 
 killed at Waterloo.
 
 1808-11] ADVENTURE WITH PIRATES 25 
 
 a very advantageous position among the columns, 
 and they were ignorant of our numbers, and alarmed 
 by some balls which whizzed over their heads by 
 accident, they kept to the shore, and permitted us to 
 depart in peace. 
 
 The Albanians, my bandy-legged Turkish cook, a 
 servant of Lusieri's and myself, had guns and pistols, 
 the rest, side arms and pistols, but how we should have 
 carried on the war is very doubtful. I rather think 
 we should have been like Billy Taylor and carried 
 off to sea. 
 
 We are all snug in our winter quarters after the same 
 tour we made last year. 
 
 Graham and myself got drunk at Theratia ; the 
 former in his Bacchanism decapitated a large pig 
 with a Higliland broadsword, to the horror of Lusieri ; 
 and after aU we could not eat him. Good-bye, Yani. 
 Yours a second time, B****]sr. 
 
 Capuchin Convent, Athens, 
 
 January, \Qth, 1811. 
 
 Dear Hobhouse, — I have written at intervals several 
 letters, some of which it is probable you have 
 received. 
 
 Two have arrived of yours, dated Malta and Cagliari, 
 and I conceive there be others on the sea, or in it, for 
 you must have been months in England. 
 
 Since your departure from the Cylades I have been 
 pruicipally in Attica, which I have traversed more than 
 once, besides two tours in the Morea, of the particu- 
 lars of which IVIr. Fletcher, now on his voyage with 
 despatches, will apprise you. 
 
 Here be many English, and there have been more, 
 with all of whom I have been and am on dining terms, 
 and we have had balls and a variety of fooleries with the 
 females of Athens. 
 
 I am very undecided in my mtentions, though 
 stationary enough, as you perceive by my date. 
 
 I sometimes think of moving homewards in spring,
 
 26 TRAVELS IN GREECE AND TURKEY [ch. i 
 
 and sometimes of not moving at all tUl I have worn out 
 my shoes, which are all as good as new. 
 
 Hanson has at last written, and wants me to sell 
 Newstead. I ivill not ; and though I have in more than 
 one letter to you requested you to corroborate and 
 assist this negative, I beg in this and all subsequent 
 communications, to entreat you to tell him and all 
 whom it may concern, that I will not sell my patrimony. 
 I suppose, however, the adjustment of that, and other 
 damned afiEairs will drag me to England. 
 
 Well, sir, and I suppose you are holdmg forth to your 
 acquaintance, on the subject of your travels, and they 
 are all very glad to see you, and you have been tipsy 
 and loquacious as usual on such occasions, and are 
 just beginnmg to subside into the old track of living, 
 after shaking about sixty pairs of hands, and seeing the 
 play and such like, all of which must be very new to a 
 voyager from the Levant. 
 
 You will present my respects to Matthews and 
 Da vies, who is I hear about to throw himself away on a 
 rich wife, and none of the seemliest, according to my 
 reporter. * 
 
 Pray what profits make ye of the Miscellany ? 
 Eh, eh ! I warrant you now, you are preparing a tome 
 of travel for the press. I have no journal, or you 
 should have it to abet your design. 
 
 I am now tolerable in Italian, and am studying the 
 Romaic under a master, bemg obliged to cashier my 
 Latin with my last dragoman, and betake myself to 
 the moderns. 
 
 I have sent a bark to Smyrna in the faint hope of 
 letters, and shall not fill up this sheet till its return. 
 
 January lUh, 1811. 
 
 My boat is returned with some newspapers, and dupli- 
 cates of letters already arrived. None from you, but 
 all in good time. 
 
 I shall certainly not (without somethuig very novel 
 
 ^ He never married.
 
 1808-11] ATHENS 27 
 
 occurs), move towards your Island till spring, nor even 
 then if I receive any further remittances, a business 
 which I hope you did not fail to urge to my agent. 
 
 You have, I humbly presume, forwarded aU my 
 epistles to their respective destinations. 
 
 I certainly wish to hear how you go on, and what 
 plan you have chalked out. Five and twenty is almost 
 too late in life for anythmg but the Senate, or the 
 Church. I wish you was a parson, or a counseUor-at- 
 law ; by the bye Lord Ersldne did not commence till 
 nearly thirty.^ 
 
 I do not think your sire so blameable ^ ; the fault lies 
 of course with the stepdame ; the old story ; Baillie 
 has got rid of his " injusta noverca," see what it is to 
 have luck ! 
 
 As you are fond of scribbling, and are said to have a 
 talent that way, why don't you, and Matthews, and 
 some other wits, undertake some periodical, hebdo- 
 madal or diurnal concern, I leave you to find out what, 
 but I think you might bring such a scheme to bear. 
 
 Fyott is this day arrived from Mount Athos (" a'yiov 
 6po<i "), he has discovered nothing to signify in the 
 manuscript way ; Graham and Haygarth are to depart 
 shortly, one for Stamboul, Haygarth for Sicily. I shall 
 send this by the latter. 
 
 Gait' is in Pera, full of his Sour Wine Company 
 speculation. I shaU look at him in Mycense, in the 
 " Prima Vera." He sent me a Candiot poem for you, 
 but being the worst Romaic, and the vilest nonsense 
 even seen, it was not worth the carriage. 
 
 As you know Athens and aU its peculiarities, I shall 
 
 ^ Lord Erskine was twenty-eight when he was called to the Bar 
 in 1778. He became Lord Chancellor in 1806. 
 
 * Benjamin Hobhoxise (bom 1757) married, first, Charlotte, 
 daughter of Samuel Cam of Chantry House, Wilts, who was the 
 mother of Byron's friend. She died, and in 1793 he married 
 Amelia, daughter of Rev. Joshua Parry, by whom he had nme 
 children. He was created a Baronet in 1812. 
 
 » John Gait, novelist (1779-1839). He travelled with Byron 
 from Gibraltar to Malta, and was at Constantinople with him. In 
 1830 he published his Life of Byron.
 
 28 TRAVELS IN GREECE AND TURKEY [ch. i 
 
 not afflict you with description. I have three horses 
 (one a gift of Vely Pasha), and live rather better and 
 cheaper than last winter. I see a good deal of the 
 English, and Lusieri, chiefly of late, and have had no 
 disputes with anyone, 
 
 I am tranquil, and as contented as I suppose one can 
 be in any situation. 
 
 I have also a Bavarian Baron and celebrated painter, 
 taking views for me. 
 
 Yours very affectionately and truly, B . 
 
 January llth, 1811. 
 Written inside the wrapper. 
 
 P.S. This goes by Haygarth, who moves in a few 
 days to Malta, by way of the Morea and Zante. 
 Graham is off too. I stay till spring, at all events till I 
 receive letters, which as usual take their time on the way. 
 
 Good-night, you port-drinking fellow. I am just 
 returned from dining with Haygarth. 
 
 Byron to Hodgson 
 
 ArsENS, January 20th, 1811. 
 
 My dear Hodgson, — In most of your letters, that 
 is to say two, the only ones I have received of yours, 
 you complain of my silence. This complaint I presume 
 to be removed by this time, as I have written frequently, 
 but more particularly by H., who is of course long ago 
 landed, and will amply gratify any further curiosity 
 you may have beyond the limits of a letter. I also 
 wrote by the Black John, which however was taken 
 off Algiers with the Capt. Moses Kennedy and several 
 bags of long letters, but especially Hobhouse's intimates 
 have to regret the capture of some enormous packets, 
 which cost him a world of pains at Constantinople, in 
 the Troad and elsewhere, as I can witness, and unless 
 the French Government publish them, I am afraid we 
 have little chance of recovering these inestimable 
 manuscripts. But then to make amends he himself 
 followed close on the heels of his letters (by the bye I 
 fear heels of letters is a very incorrect metaphor) and
 
 1808-11] LIFE IN ATHENS 29 
 
 will teU the world all how and about it, unless he also 
 has been boarded and taken off Algiers. Talking of 
 taking, I was nearly taken myself six weeks ago by 
 some Mainote pirates (Lacedemonians and be damned 
 to them) at Cape Colonna, but being well armed, and 
 attended, the varlets were afraid, or they might have 
 bagged us all with a little skirmishing. I am still in 
 Athens making little tours to Marathon, Sunium, the 
 top of Hymettus, and the Morea occasionally to 
 diversify the season. My Grand Giro finished with 
 Constantinople and I shall not (I think) go further 
 Eastward, but I am sure of nothing so little as my own 
 intentions, and if I receive cash and comfortable news 
 from home I shan't trouble your foggy Island for 
 amusement. I am studying modern Greek with a 
 Master, and my current tongue is Levant Italian, 
 which I gabble perforce. My late dragoman spoke bad 
 Latin, but having dismissed him, I am left to my 
 resources, which consist in tolerably fluent Lingua 
 Franca, middling Romaic (modern Greek) and some 
 variety of Ottoman oaths of great service with a 
 stumbUng horse or a stupid servant. I lately sent to 
 England my only remaining Englishman with some 
 papers about money matters, and am left d'ye see all 
 by myself in these outlandish parts, and I don't find 
 it never the loorse, for friends and servants, that is to 
 say fellow countrymen in those capacities, are trouble- 
 some fellow travellers. I have a variety of acquaint- 
 ance, French, Danes, German, Greek, Italian and 
 Turkish, and have contracted an alliance with Dr. 
 Bronstedt of Copenhagen, a pretty philosopher as you'd 
 wish to see. Besides I am on good terms with some of 
 my countrymen here, Messrs. Graham and Haygarth, 
 and I have in pay a Bavarian Baron named " Lynch " 
 (pronounce it Lynk) who limns landscapes for the lucre 
 of gain. Here also are Messrs, Fyott, Cockerell and 
 Forster, all of whom I know, and they are all vastly 
 amiable and accomplished. I am living in the Capuchin 
 Convent, Hymettus before me, the Acropolis behind, 
 the Temple of Jove to my right, the Stadium in front,
 
 30 TRAVELS IN GREECE AND TURKEY [ch. i 
 
 the town to the left ; eh, Sir, there's a situation, there's 
 your picturesque ! nothing hke that, Sir, in Lunnun, 
 no not even the Mansion House. And I feed upon 
 Woodcocks and Red Mullet every day, and I have three 
 horses (one a present from the Pasha of the Morea), 
 and I ride to Piraeus, and Phalerum, and Munychia, 
 which however don't look quite so magnificent after 
 the harbours of Cadiz, Lisbon, Constantinople and 
 Gibraltar, not forgetting Malta. I wish to be sure I 
 had a few books, one's own works for instance, any 
 damned nonsense on a long Evening. I had a straggUng 
 number of the E. Review given me by a compassionate 
 Capt. of a frigate lately, it contains the reply to the 
 Oxonian pamphlet on the Strabonic controversy, the 
 reviewer seems to be in a perilous passion and heaves 
 out a deal of Slack- jaw as the Sailors call it. You 
 have to direct to Malta, whence my letters are or ought 
 to be forwarded. In two days I shall be twenty-three, 
 and on the 2*^ above a year and a half out of England. 
 I suppose you and Drury sometimes drink one's health 
 on a speech day, and I trust we shall meet merrily, and 
 make a tour some summer to Wales or Scotland, it 
 will be a great relaxation to me jaunting once more in 
 a Chay. I need not write at length as Hobby is 
 brimful of remarks, and it would be cruel to curtail 
 him of a syllable. Tell him I have written to him 
 frequently, as indeed I have to yourself and also to 
 Drury and others, but this is a plaguey distance for a 
 " Single Sheet." 
 
 Yours alway, Byron. 
 
 Byron to Hohhouse 
 
 Athens, March, l^tli, 1811. 
 
 Dear Hobhouse, — Though I neither know where 
 you are or how you are, I write at a venture by way 
 of Zante, as I have already done many times, indeed so 
 often that I can't afford you more than this present 
 sheet. 
 
 I have just finished an imitation in English verse 
 (rhyme of course) of Horace's " Art of Poetry," v/hich
 
 1808-11] HOMEWARD-BOUND 31 
 
 I intend as a sequel to my " English Bards," as I have 
 adapted it entirely to our new school of poetry, though 
 always keeping pretty close to the original. This 
 poem I have addressed, and shall dedicate to you. 
 In it you fill the same part that the " Pisones " do in 
 Horace, and if published it will be with the Latin 
 subjoined. 
 
 I am now at the " Limae labor " though I shan't keep 
 my piece nine years ; indeed I question if Horace him- 
 self kept to his own precept. 
 
 I am at present very fond of this bantling, as the 
 youngest offspring of authors, like that of mothers, is 
 generally most cherished because 'tis the weakest. 
 
 Pray what are you doing ? Have you no literary 
 projects in hand ? Can't you and Matthews and some 
 of our wits commence some literary journal, political, 
 critical, or what not ? 
 
 I don't mean, however, like a common magazine or 
 review, but some respectable novelty which I recom- 
 mend and leave to your own brilliant considerations. 
 
 You see my scribbling propensities, though " expeUed 
 with a fork," are coming on agam, 
 
 I am livmg here very amicably with English, French, 
 Turks and Greeks, and to-morrow evening I gave a 
 supper to aU the Franks in the place. You know 
 Athens so well, I shaU say no more about it. 
 
 As you have been so sparing and myself so liberal 
 in late communications, I shall fold up this rag of 
 paper, which I send to-morrow by a snail to Patras. 
 However, it is more than you deserve from 
 
 Yours very angry, Byron. 
 
 There are no letters extant from BjTon between 
 18 March 1811 and 15 May of that year. There is 
 nothing to indicate the exact date when Byron left 
 Athens on his homeward voyage. As the journey from 
 Athens to Malta in those days took about ten days, we 
 may assume that Byron left Athens on or about the 
 4th May 1811.
 
 32 TRAVELS IN GREECE AND TURKEY [ch. i 
 
 Malta, May 15th, 1811. 
 
 Dear Hobhouse, — Your last two letters of 1810 I 
 have just received.^ They find me on my way home- 
 wards. In the beginnmg of June I sail in the Volage 
 frigate with French prizes and other English ships of 
 war, in all, I believe six or seven frigates. 
 
 I must egotize a little. I am in bad health and 
 worse spirits, being afflicted in body with what Hostess 
 Quickly m Henry V. calls a villainous " Quotidian 
 Tertian " ; it killed Falstafi and may me. I had it 
 first in the Morea last year, and it returned in quaran- 
 tine in this infernal oven, and the fit comes on every 
 other day, reducing me first to the chattering penance 
 of Harry Gill, and then mounting me up to a Vesuvian 
 pitch of fever, lastly quitting me with sweats that 
 render it necessary for me to have a man and horse all 
 night to change my linen. 
 
 Of course I am pulled down with a murrain, and as I 
 hear nothing but croaking from H[anson] I am hasten- 
 ing homewards to adjust (if possible) my unadjustable 
 aft'airs. 
 
 He wants me to sell Newstead, partly I believe 
 because he thmks it might serve me, and partly I 
 suspect because some of his clients want to purchase it. 
 
 I will see them d — d first. 
 
 I told you I never would sell it in a former letter, and 
 I beg to repeat that negative. 
 
 I have told him fifty times to sell Rochdale, and he 
 evades and excuses in a very lawyer-like and laudable 
 way. 
 
 TeU Da vies it is with the greatest regret I see him 
 in such a situation, from which he shall be, at all events 
 and at aU expense, relieved, for if money is not ready, 
 I will take the securities on myself. 
 
 I have looked, asked, and raved after your marbles, 
 and am still looking, asking, and ravmg, till people 
 think they are my own. Fletcher was my precursor. 
 Close, Landor, Mrs. D., have all been examined and 
 
 ^ Those letters were respectively dated Oct. 6 and Dec. 10.
 
 1808-11] imTATIONS OF HORACE 33 
 
 declared " Ignoramus." And yet it is so odd that so 
 many packages should have vanished, that I shaU (in the 
 intervals of my malady) search the surface of the island. 
 
 I am sorry to hear the stationary propensities of 
 your " Miscellany," and attribute them, firstly, to the 
 dead weight of extraneous productions with which 
 you loaded your Pegasus ; secondly, to the half-guinea 
 (one may buy an opera ticket for less at Hookham's), 
 and thirdly, to that "' Walsh-ean " preface ^ from which 
 you and Matthews predicted such unutterable things. 
 
 Now what would I do ? Cut away the lumber of 
 Ld. Byron, the Honble. G. Lamb, Mr. Bent the 
 Counsellor at Law, and the rest of your contributory 
 friends, castrate that Boccacian tale, expunge the 
 Walshean preface, (no offence to Matthews,) add some 
 smart things of your own, change the title, and charge 
 only seven-and-sixpence. 
 
 I hear Jeffrey has promised to review you ; this will 
 lift you into life, and seriously speaking, I thmk your 
 own productions would have done much better alone, 
 and the " Imitations of Juvenal " are certainly as 
 good in their kind as any in oiu? language. 
 
 1 have completed an imitation of Horace " De Arte 
 Poetica," in which jon perform the part of both the 
 " Pisos.^^ I have taken a good deal of pams with it, 
 but wish you to see it before I print, particularly as it is 
 addressed to you. In one part (I deviate and adapt 
 from the original) I have apostrophized you as a lover 
 of ("Vive la Bagatelle"), and it is curious that I 
 should aftenvards receive a letter from you on the 
 subject of your projected society with that motto." 
 
 * See Letters and Journals, v. 125. 
 
 2 Hobhouse in his letter (6 Oct. 1810) says : " I have been thinking 
 that we may call our society La Bagatelle ; that we may wear a green 
 coat with a black velvet collar, and a yellow button, with a comic 
 mask, and Vive la Bagatelle inscribed romid the rim ; that we may 
 employ a printer to publish our bites and quizzes which must be 
 serious lies in prose — abusive satires with names of sober citizens to 
 them . . . this would put every person of respectability in fear of 
 his character."
 
 34 TRAVELS IN GREECE AND TURKEY [ch. i 
 
 I had written the lines without being at all aware of 
 such an intention, and of course am pleased with the 
 coincidence as well as your idea. 
 
 But more of this in England. I wish you would fill 
 up your outlines with your friends. I have nobody to 
 recommend or to object against, but shall be happy to 
 make a joint in the tail of your comet ! 
 
 I have heard from Matthews. Remember me to him 
 most socially ; he tells me you have thoughts of 
 betaking shortly to Cambridge, surely this is better than 
 the Militia ; why go abroad agam ? five-and-twenty is 
 too late to ring bells and write notes for a Minister of 
 Legation ; don't think of such a thing, read, read, read, 
 and depend upon it, in two years' time, fortune or 
 your father will come romid again. 
 
 My pictiure of which you speak is gone to my mother, 
 and if not it was and is my intention not to be shot for a 
 long time,' and therefore, thou false and foul insinuator ! 
 I repel your surmise, as " De Wilton " did the 
 Adjuration of the voice from High Cross, Edinburgh 
 (see 4th, 6th, or 6th Canto of Marmion), and as it 
 succeeded with him, I trust it will with me, you 
 unnatural (not supernatural) croaker ! 
 
 Avaunt thee, Cam ! I retort and repel your hint, and 
 hope you yourself will be — shooter of a great many 
 ptarmigans (or men, if you like it better), but don't 
 draw me into your parties to shoot or be shotten ! 
 for I am determined to come ofi conqueror on aU 
 such occasions. 
 
 I expect letters from you by next packet. My 
 fantastical adventures I reserve for you and Matthieu, 
 and a bottle of champagne. 
 
 I must go down to Newstead and Rochdale, and my 
 mother in a late letter tells me that my property is 
 estimated at above a hundred thousand pounds, even 
 
 * In Hobhouse's letter dated 6 Oct. 1810, he says : " General 
 Graham was praising your full-length portrait by Saunders, and as 
 he was praising it very much, I told him that the picture is mine, 
 which you know it is, for you gave it me, and I will have it, tho' 
 you may keep it till you are shot."
 
 1808-11] VOYAGE HOME 35 
 
 after all debts, &c. are paid off. And yet I am em- 
 barrassed, and do not know where to raise a shilling. 
 
 With regard to our accomit, don't think of it, or let 
 your father think of it, for I will not hear of it till you 
 are in a state to pay it as easily as so many shillings.^ 
 I have fifty resources, and besides my person is 
 parliamentary — pay your tradesmen — I am none. I 
 know your suspicions past and present, but they are 
 ill-founded. 
 
 Will you meet me in London in July, and go down to 
 Rochdale and Notts by way of Cambridge to see 
 Matthews ? Leave a direction at Ridgways. 
 
 Believe yours indelibly, B. 
 
 "Volage" Frigate, at Sea, June IQih, 1811. 
 
 My dear Hobhouse, — In the gentle dullness of a 
 summer voyage I shall converse with you for half-an- 
 hour. 
 
 We left Malta on the 2nd, with three other frigates, 
 inclusive of the Lissa prizes, and we are on our way, 
 they to glory, and I to what God pleases. 
 
 I am recovered from my Tertian, but neither my 
 health nor my hitherto hoydenish spirits are as ram- 
 pant as usual. 
 
 I received at Malta your letters, which I have an- 
 swered ; and I have succeeded in the discovery and 
 embarkation of your memorable marbles ; they shaU 
 be brought to town, or left m proper care at Ports- 
 mouth, till you can arrange their removal, 
 
 I am accompanied by two Greek servants, both 
 middle-aged men, and one is Demetrius your old 
 mis-interpreter. 
 
 My own antiquities consist of four tortoises, and 
 four skulls, all taken out of ancient sarcophagi. 
 
 I shall first endeavour to repair my irreparable affairs, 
 and it seems I must set out for Lancashire, for I shaU 
 
 1 BjTon had lent Hobhouse all the money necessary for their 
 travels until such time as he could repay him. When they parted 
 company Hobhouse owed Byron £818. 
 1—4
 
 36 TRAVELS IN GREECE AND TURKEY [ch. i 
 
 neither have coals nor comfort till I visit Rochdale in 
 person. I wish you would meet me or tell me where to 
 meet you, as I wish to consult you on various subjects, 
 besides the pleasure I shall experience ia your 
 society. 
 
 With regard to all Dross business between us, don't 
 think of it till it is most perfectly convenient. I 
 would rather you did not think of it at all, but as I 
 know your sentiments on the subject, I shall not annoy 
 you by such a proposition. 
 
 You tell me fine thmgs — very fine things — on the 
 literary " lay,"" I suppose from your natural knowledge 
 of our weak side, and with a view to set me marble- 
 Tiuntijig, by dint of compliment. I have, as I told 
 you before, completed an Imitation of Horace, " Ad 
 Pisones," addressed to you, and to be published forth- 
 with, as you will readUy conjecture. 
 
 I hope the Miscellany mends in sale. Its faUure 
 must be attributed to that accursed " Walsh-ean " 
 preface, which the Citoyen M. would recommend, and 
 you see what it has come to. 
 
 M[atthe]ws has written to me ; thank him, and say 
 further I shall have great pleasure in gratifying his 
 curiosity, which, however, he must not raise too high. 
 
 You talk of the militia — Santissimi Coglioni ! — the 
 militia at five-and-twenty ; boys over your head, and 
 brutes under you, mess, country-quarters, courts- 
 martial, and quelling of riots. If you will be mad 
 or martial ('tis the same thmg) go to Portugal again, 
 and I will go with you (for I have some serious thoughts 
 of it, if matters are intricate at home), but don't waste 
 your time in mere holiday soldiering, as Major Sturgeon 
 would call it. 
 
 You have not been in London, it should seem. I 
 shall proceed there from Portsmouth to Reddish's or 
 Dorant's for a few days, and afterwards to Newstead, 
 and most probably abroad again as soon as my arrange- 
 ments will admit. 
 
 Ld. Sligo is on his way home ; I left him at Malta in 
 quarantine. Bruce is gone or going to Persia ; he is
 
 1808-11] HOBHOUSE'S MISCELLANY 37 
 
 a singular being * ; on the night he left Athens he made 
 me a profession of friendship, on the extremity of the 
 Piraeus, the only one I ever received in my life, and 
 certainly very unexpected, for I had done nothing to 
 deserve it. Whitbread (in Peter Pindar's visit from 
 George Guelph) says he is too old for a knight, and I am 
 too old for a friend, at least a new one. Tell M[atthews] 
 I have bade adieu to every species of affection, and may 
 say with Horace, " Me jam nee fcemina," etc., he will 
 finish the lines. Seriously, I can't think, for the soul 
 of me, what possessed Michael, for, like the Rovers, 
 " a sudden thought struck him." We had dined to- 
 gether, so I know he was not drunk ; but the truth is, 
 he is a little chivalrous and romantic, and is smitten 
 with miimaginable fantasies ever since his connection 
 with Lady H. Stanhope. However, both her ladyship 
 and he were very polite, and asked me to go on with 
 them a second time to Constantinople ; but having been 
 there once, and preferring philosophy at Athens, I staid 
 in my convent. 
 
 Matthews tells me that Jeffrey means to review your 
 book ; if he does, it will do you good, one way or the 
 other, but I think it probable he will praise you. Have 
 you nothing new for the press ? 
 
 Don't be discouraged by the Miscellany, but throw 
 the blame on your friends, and the preface, and 
 Matthews, and me, and the damned trash of your 
 auxiliaries. There is something very impudent in my 
 offering this pert consolation, but I hope you wOl stand 
 in no need of it, and begin to receive half-guineas at a 
 rare rate ; by-the-bye, would not seven-and-sixpence 
 have sold and sounded better ? Matthews has been 
 advising you to philosophize at Cambridge — do, and 
 I'U join you for a time, and we will tipple and talk 
 Matthews to death with our travels, and jest and 
 squabble, and be as insipid as the best of them. 
 
 Bold Webster (by way of keeping up that epithet, 
 I suppose) has married, and, bolder' stiU, a sister of 
 
 * Michael Bruce, who was at Athens with Byron.
 
 38 TRAVELS IN GREECE AND TURKEY [ch. i 
 
 Ld. V Valentia, and, boldest of all, has published letters 
 to the Commr. in Chief ! ^ Corpo di Caio Mario ! what 
 will the world come to ? I take this to be one of the 
 newest events " under the sun." 
 
 Had he no friend, no relation, no pitying monitor 
 to snatch the manuscript from one devil to save it 
 from the other ? Pray are the letters in prose or verse ? 
 
 1 am dull, "dull as the last new comedy" {vide 
 Goldsmith's "Good Natured Man"), though Capt. 
 Hornby* is a gentlemanly and pleasant man, and a 
 Salamander in his profession, fight anything ; but as 
 I have got all the particulars of his late action out of 
 him, I don't know what to ask him next any more than 
 you. But we are infested in the cabin by another 
 passenger, a teller of tough stories, all about himself. 
 I could laugh at him were there anybody to laugh with ; 
 as it is, I yawn and swear to myself, and take refuge in 
 the quarter gallery ' ; thank God he is now asleep, 
 or I should be worried with impertinence. His name is 
 Thomas, and he is Staff- or Stuff- Apothecary to General 
 Oakes, who has rammed him down our throats for 
 the voyage, and a bitter Bolus he is, that's the truth 
 on't. 
 
 But I long for land, and then for a post-chaise, and 
 I believe my enjoyments will end there, for I have no 
 other pleasure to expect that I know of. 
 
 We have had a tedious passage, all except the Straits, 
 where we had an easterly gale. 
 
 Dear Hobby, you must excuse all this facetiousness, 
 which I should not have let loose if I loiew what 
 the devil to do, but I am so out of spirits, and hopes, 
 
 ^ James Wedderbum Webster (1789-1840) was with Byron at 
 Athens in 1810, He married Lady Frances Annesley, daughter of 
 Viscount Valentia, who held the Irish title of Earl of Anglesey, and 
 was in 1793 created Earl of Mountnorris, also an Irish title. BjTon 
 and Lady Frances were to become closely associated in later years. 
 
 2 Sir Phipps Hornby, who was a midshipman in the Victory in 
 1804 and then in command of the Volage, took part in the battle 
 of Lissa in 1811, and died 1867. 
 
 3 Sailor phrase for Captain's W.C.
 
 1808-11] ON BOARD H.M.S. " VOLAGE " 39 
 
 and humour, and pocket, and health, that you must 
 bear with my merriment, my only resource against a 
 Calentm-a, Write to me ; I am now going to patrole 
 the melancholy deck. God be w' ye ! 
 
 Yours always, B. 
 
 On the envelope. 
 
 P.S. Take a mouthful of Saltwater poetry, by a 
 Tar on the late Lissa Victory, 
 
 If I had an education 
 
 I'd sing your praise more large. 
 
 But I'm only a common foremast Jack 
 
 On board of the le Volage ! 1 1 1 1 
 
 " VoLAGE " Frigate, Bay of Biscay, July 2nd, 1811. 
 
 My deab Hobhotjse, — This very day two years we 
 sailed from Inghilterra, so that I have completed the 
 period I expected to be absent, though my wishes were 
 originally more extensive. When we shall arrive, God 
 knows ! but till then I continue scribbling to you for 
 lack of other argument. 
 
 My situation is one you have been used to, so you 
 will feel without further description, but I must do 
 Captain Hornby the justice to say, he is one of the 
 best marine productions in my recollection. 
 
 We have been beating about with hazy weather this 
 last fortnight, and to-day is as foggy as the Isle of Man. 
 
 I have been thinking again and again of a literary 
 project we have at times started, to wit, — b, periodical 
 paper, something in the Spectator or Observer way. 
 There certainly is no such thing at present. Why not 
 get up one, Tuesdays and Saturdays. You must be 
 Editor, as you have more taste and diligence than either 
 Matthews or myself, (I beg M.'s pardon for lowering 
 him to the same line with me,) and I don't think we 
 shall want other contributors if we set seriously about 
 it. We must have for each day, one or two essays, 
 miscellaneous, according to circumstances, but now 
 and then pohtical, and alwa5'^s a piece of poetry of one 
 kind or other.
 
 40 TRAVELS IN GREECE AND TURKEY [ch. r 
 
 I give you these hints, to digest the scheme at leisure ; 
 it would be pleasant, and with success, in some degree 
 profitable. Above all we must be secret, at least at 
 first. " Cosa pensate." Perpend, pronounce, Respond. 
 
 We can call it "La Bagatelle " (according to your 
 idea), or Lillibulero, if you like it, the name won't 
 matter so that the contents are palatable. 
 
 But I am writing and projecting without knowing 
 where you are, in country or college quarters, though 
 I hope you have abandoned your Militia scheme. 
 
 Matthews gave me hopes that Arms would give way 
 to the Gown, as you had visions of returning to Granta. 
 God keep bad port out of your carcase ! you would 
 certainly fall a victim to messing the very first cam- 
 paign. I shall be in town a very short time, meaning 
 to proceed to Notts and thence to Rochdale. 
 
 The accursed Pharmacopole is at present on deck, — 
 the only pleasure I have had these three weeks. But 
 I hope soon to tell you in person how truly I am Yours, 
 
 B .
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 RETURN TO ENGLAND 
 (1811-1812) 
 
 Byron to HohJiouse 
 
 Rkddish's Hotel, July 15th, 1811. 
 
 My dear Hobhotjse, — The day after to-morrow 
 (17th) I will set out for Sittingbourne to confabulate ; 
 I thank you for your advice, which I shaU observe. 
 
 My " Imitations of Horace " is now transcribing at 
 Cawthorn's, so that I cannot bring the fair copy, but 
 the moment it is out of his hands you shall have it. 
 
 Your marbles are left at the Custom House, Sheer- 
 ness, as I know not where to send them, and to smuggle 
 them was impracticable ; you will get them on send- 
 ing a cart or a letter. 
 
 I dine with Davies to-day ; he came to me drunk 
 last night, and was very friendly, and has got a new 
 set of jokes, but to you they are doubtless not new. 
 
 Drawings I have none ready, but have an excellent 
 painter in pay in the Levant. I have brought you 
 one (from CockereU), of Athens, and have in my posses- 
 sion a Romaic lexicon in three qo. volumes, two or 
 three Greek plays {i.e. translations from Metastasio and 
 Goldoni), Meletius's Geography (we stole it from the 
 Bishop of Chrysso), a Greek grammar or two, two live 
 Greeks (both between 30 and 40 years of age, and one 
 of them your old dragoman Demetrius) , and some other 
 Romaic publications (and a manuscript or two, which 
 you shaJl publish, as they are very curious, if you like), 
 aU of which, with the owner, are as usual very much 
 at your service. 
 
 I wUl bring some of the books with me. 
 
 Yours ever, Byron. 
 
 41
 
 42 RETURN TO ENGLAND [ch. ii 
 
 Reudish's Hotel, July 31«<, 1811. 
 
 My dear H. , — My Rochdale concerns not only wait, 
 but make me icait too, and (to withdraw the quibble 
 a la Da vies) wUl prevent my ivaiting upon your Cornish 
 minership. 
 
 This comes of soldiering — I say no more. I would 
 come down or go down, but I really have not money to 
 carry me to Dover and back, no, not by the long coach, 
 and what is more, I do not know when I shall have. 
 
 My afiairs are in the most lackadaisical posture, and 
 seem like Goldsmith's " Young The.," to get never the 
 better for age. Davies I see nothing of, though for 
 aught I know he may be in town, but this I cannot 
 ascertain, having never entered a coffee-house since 
 my return, and meaning by the blessing of reformation 
 to keep out of them. 
 
 The Albanian vocabulary, and everything else, is at 
 a standstill with this Irish expedition, Cawthorn may 
 swear (by-the-bye he wUl have to swear perhaps at 
 Hewson Clarke's half-a-dozen trials, who is to be prose- 
 cuted by ]\Irs. B.^ and myself for libel Scan. Mag. 
 Breach of 'privilege, &c. &c. in fifty different actions 
 next November for buffooneries in the " Scourge "), 
 Cawthorn may swear, but his face certainly discovered 
 your work. 
 
 The " Scourge " is in the hands of the attorney- 
 general ; the foolish fellow of an editor, instead of 
 something like the shadow of truth, has run aground 
 upon charges of " Illegitimacy " and drunkenness 
 against Mrs. B., "descent from murderers" and a 
 variety of other phrases, which will look lovely in an 
 indictment. 
 
 So you will perceive in the " Cork Chronicle," or the 
 " Munster Mercury," the scurrilous speeches which will 
 doubtless be made on both sides ; for Mrs. B.'s and 
 mine are separate concerns, and mine again is a separated 
 
 ^ Mrs. Byron : his mother. Mrs. Byron died the following day, 
 August 1. For full particulars of the action see Letters and 
 Journals, i. 321.
 
 1811-12] DEATH OF C. S. MATTHEWS 43 
 
 concern, as he has attacked my peerage, and in short 
 it will be a long and loud affair, and answer no purpose 
 but punishing these poor devils, and making an 
 advertisement to Cawthorn's book. 
 
 I see nothing to prevent your publication, if you are 
 serious. Your friends can correct the press, but Caw- 
 thorn supplicates an octavo, your 16mo won't do, 
 people love margin. 
 
 Lord Elgin has been teazing to see me these last four 
 days. I wrote to him, at his own request, all I knew 
 about his robberies, and at last have written to say that 
 as it is my intention to publish (in Childe Harold) on 
 that topic, I thought proper, since he insisted on seemg 
 me, to give him notice that he might not have an 
 opportunity of accusing me of double dealing after- 
 wards. 
 
 So you see how my matters stand. I believe we 
 differ on Lord E[lgin]'s subject, or else he will be 
 prettily trimmed among us, i.e. Dr. Clarke, you, 
 and myself, prose and verse aU rising in revenge of 
 Minerva. 
 
 Let me hear from you before your banishment. 
 I am afraid I shall be abroad agam before your 
 return, but wherever I am you will reckon me 
 amongst your friends. As for my little circle of 
 friendship, death and what is called Life have cut it 
 to a segment. 
 
 Yours always, Byron. 
 
 Newstead Abbey, August lOth, 1811. 
 
 My dear Hobhouse, — From Davies I had already 
 received tidings of the death of Matthews, and from M. 
 a letter dated the day before his death. In that letter he 
 mentions you, and as it was perhaps the last he ever 
 wrote, you will derive a poor consolation from hearing 
 that he spoke of you with that affectionate familiarity, 
 so much more pleasing from those we love, than the 
 highest encomiums of the world. 
 
 My dwelling you already know is the house of mourn-
 
 44 RETURN TO ENGLAND [ch. ii 
 
 ing,' and I am really so much bewildered with the 
 different shocks I have sustained, that I can hardly 
 reduce myself to reason by the most frivolous occupa- 
 tions. 
 
 My poor friend, J, Wingfield, my mother, and your 
 best friend (and surely not the worst of mine), C. S. M., 
 have disappeared in one little month, since my return, 
 and without my seeing either, though I have heard from 
 all. 
 
 There is to me something so incomprehensible in 
 death, that I can neither speak nor think on the subject. 
 Indeed, when I looked on the mass of corruption which 
 was the being from whence I sprung, I doubted within 
 myself whether I was, or whether she ivas not. 
 
 I have lost her who gave me being, and some of those 
 who made that being a blessing. I have neither hopes 
 nor fears beyond the grave, yet if there is within us 
 " a spark of that Celestial fire," M[atthews] has already 
 " mingled with the gods." 
 
 In the room where I now write (flanked by the skulls 
 you have seen so often) did you and Matthews and 
 myself pass some joyous unprofitable evenings, and 
 here we will drink to his memory, which though it 
 cannot reach the dead, will soothe the survivors, and 
 to them only death can be an evil. 
 
 I can neither receive nor administer consolation ; 
 time will do it for us ; in the interim let me see or hear 
 from you, if possible both. 
 
 I am very lonely, and should think myself miserable 
 were it not for a kind of hysterical merriment, which I 
 can neither account for nor conquer ; but strange as 
 it is, I do laugh, and heartily, wondering at myself 
 while I sustain it. 
 
 I have tried readmg, and boxing, and swimming, 
 and writing, and rising early, and sitting late, and water, 
 and wine, with a number of ineffectual remedies, and 
 
 1 Mrs. Byron died on 1 August 1811. Byron was not present 
 when she died. He had been detained in London by law business, 
 and only heard of his mother's illness one day before her death.
 
 1811-12] C. S. MATTHEWS 45 
 
 here I am, wretched, but not " melancholy or gentleman- 
 like." 
 
 My dear " Cam of the Cornish " (Matthews's last 
 expression ! !) may man or God give you the happiness 
 which I wish rather than expect you may attain ; 
 believe me, none living are more sincerely yours than 
 
 Bykon, 
 
 Newstead Abbey, August ZOth, 1811. 
 
 My dear Hobhotjse, — Scrope Davies has been 
 here and seemed as much affected by late events as 
 could be expected, from one who has lived so much in 
 in the world. His society was (as it always wont to 
 be) very reviving, but now he is gone, and I am solitary 
 and sullen. 
 
 Not a scrap of paper has been found at Cambridge, 
 which is singular. I can hardly agree with you in a 
 wish to forget, I love to remember the dead, for we see 
 only the virtues, and when our best friends are thus 
 removed, we become reconciled to our own prospects, 
 and " long to be with them, and at rest." 
 
 I think when your mind is more calm you ought to 
 write his epitaph, and we will erect to his memory a 
 monument in some appropriate place. I do not know 
 any other who would do him justice ; indeed, it is your 
 right, and perhaps your duty. 
 
 Then " give his fame to the winds, and let the harp 
 sigh over his narrow house " ; you are now in the land 
 of Ossian. 
 
 In the poem which I wrote abroad, and is now in 
 the hands of Murray the bookseller for publication, at 
 the close of the jQrst canto, which treats of Spain, I have 
 two stanzas in commemoration of W[ingfield], who died 
 at Coimbra ; and in a note to those, having occasion 
 to mention the loss of three persons very dear to me, 
 in so very short a time, I have added a very short 
 sentence or two on the subject of our friend ; which, 
 though they can neither add to his credit or satisfac- 
 tion, will at least show my own pride in the acquaint- 
 ance of such a man.
 
 46 RETURN TO ENGLAND [ch.ii 
 
 Your book goes on well, and I trust will answer your 
 purpose and my expectations. Demetrius has made 
 out a most formidable vocabulary, on which I wait for 
 further orders. 
 
 I do not know who is your deputy in town ; perhaps 
 Baillie, or Shepherd. I have had a letter from Bankes, 
 of the patronising kind, where I am invited to " one 
 of my places in Wales .^ / " 
 
 I am going to Lanes., and am in daily expectation 
 of Hanson to back me ; and I mean to marry, pru- 
 dently if possible ; that is, wealthily ; I can't afford 
 anything to Love. 
 
 I wish you were here ; but you will be here, and we 
 shall laugh again as usual, and be very miserable dogs 
 for all that. 
 
 My sister writes me melancholy letters ; things are 
 not going on well there, but mismanagement is the 
 hereditary epidemic of our brood. 
 
 Hodgson is battening on " Laver Moor, Hereford- 
 shire," Da vies at Harrowgate. 
 
 I am to visit him in October at King's Coll. 
 
 Dallas is running to and from Mortlake, with his 
 pocket full of proofs of all his friends, who are all 
 scribblers and make him a packhorse. 
 
 I am here boxing in a Turkish pelisse to prevent 
 obesity, and as usual very much yours, 
 
 Byron, 
 
 Newstead Abbey, September 20th, 1811. 
 
 My dear H., — Our friend Scrope ^ is a pleasant 
 person, a " facetious companion," and well " respected 
 by all who know him ; " he laughs with the living, 
 though he don't weep with the dead, yet I believe he 
 would do that also, could it do them good service, but 
 good or bad we must endeavour to foUow his example, 
 and return to the dull routine of business or pleasure, 
 though I fear the more we see of life, the more we 
 shall regret those who have ceased to live — we will 
 speak of them no more. 
 
 * Scrope B. Davies.
 
 1811-12] AT NEWSTEAD ABBEY 47 
 
 Demetrius has completed a copious specimen of the 
 Aniaut dialect, which shall be sent to-morrow ; the 
 print might perhaps be improved by an elongation of 
 the v7TOKd/j,Laov—3i,s the drawers don't appear to advan- 
 tage below it ; altogether it is very characteristic. 
 
 I had a visit lately from Major (Capt.) Leake ^ " en 
 passanV He talks of returning to Ali Pacha, and says 
 the E[dinburgh] R[eview] knows nothing of Romaic ; he 
 is grown less taciturn, better dressed, and more like 
 an (English) man of this world than he was at 
 Yanina. 
 
 J". Claridge is here, improved in person a good deal, 
 and amiable, but not amusing. Now he is a good man, 
 a handsome man, an honourable man, a most inoffen- 
 sive man, a well informed man, and a — dull man, and 
 this last damned epithet undoes aU the rest ; there is 
 Scrope B. Da vies, with perhaps no better intellects, 
 and certainly not half his sterling qualities, is the life 
 and soul of me, and everybody else, but my old friend, 
 with the soul of honour and the zeal of friendship, and 
 a vast variety of insipid virtues, can't keep me or him- 
 self awake.— Alas, " Ilotlei/s the only weary As for 
 Claridge you can't ever quarrel with him, and my 
 life is as still as the Lake before the Abbey, till the 
 North wind disturbs the one, and Fletcher and my 
 learned Thebans break my pottery, or my tenants, or 
 Mr. Hanson ruffle the other. 
 
 I expect Hanson down daily to proceed to Rochdale, 
 or nothing will ever be settled. 
 
 You are commg out in quarto, but I wish you to be 
 out first, or at any rate one before the other ; I am 
 going to use you very shabbily, for I fear that Note is a 
 " sine qua non " to " C*. Harold ; " had it been the 
 Horace, you should have had it all to yourself. As it 
 is, you shall have it to extract the essence, long before 
 
 ^ William Martin Leake, soldier, traveller, and antiquary. He 
 was employed in instructing Turkish troops at Constantinople ; 
 made a survey of Egypt, Asia Minor, and Greece ; and in 1824 
 published his Journal oj a Tour in Asia Minor.
 
 48 RETURN TO ENGLAND [ch. ii 
 
 it is published, and the information will be all the better 
 for being in your own words, and if you are out first 
 (as you most probably will be) I trust we shall answer 
 both our purposes. In my notes to the poem I have 
 assigned your publication as my excuse for saying 
 very little about the Greeks, and referred my readers to 
 your work for more mteresting particulars of that 
 people. 
 
 You must have six plates at the least, indeed ten or 
 twelve would be better. Of course they are all at your 
 service, and the Romaic MSS. such as they are. 
 
 I must contrive to meet you in the spring or summer, 
 and will bring Hodgson or Davies with me. I am 
 invited to Cambridge in Ocf. to meet them and Dr. 
 Clarke. 
 
 I don't know whether to be glad or sorry that you 
 wUl not be there ; if I am glad, you will conceive it is 
 on YOUR account. 
 
 I shall write with Demetrius' Vocabulary. 
 
 Dear H, Yours ever, B. 
 
 Newstead Abbey, October 13th, 1811. 
 
 My dear Hobhotjse, — Demetrius is laid up with a 
 kick from a horse, so that for a few days he will be 
 unserviceable to you or me. I sent the Vocabulary to 
 Cawthorn, to forward it in a parcel, being too heavy for 
 franking. 
 
 The letter of Ali Pacha shall be translated and 
 returned or left at your publishers as you think best. 
 Now for your Queries. 
 
 The Chimariots are Arnauts ; what Greek they speak 
 is acquired. Some are Mussulmen, indeed, most of 
 them ; in Albania proper, past Tepeleni except a few 
 vUlages all are Turks (in religion) as far as Bosnia, 
 where all are Mussulmen and the bravest of the brave. 
 
 The Suliotes are Christians, but wear the Camesa, 
 Berat and Arnout Beligrade are one, 12 hours 
 from Tepeleni, — Ibrahim Pacha has nothing to do 
 with Scutari, the Pacha of Scutari is a plaguy, trouble- 
 some fellow ; Ibrahim's predecessor, Giaffer Pacha,
 
 1811-12] AT NEWSTEAD ABBEY 49 
 
 was poisoned by Ali's order, with a cup of coffee — La 
 the bath at /Sophia, Ali lately married his daughter, — 
 Coul Pacha, the predecessor of Ali, was a very formid- 
 able personage. 
 
 I will some day draw up an account of my reception 
 by Veli Pacha m the Morea for your edification, but 
 at present I am out of sorts. 
 
 I don't know how to send Meletius, he is so well 
 hound and if we lose him ! ! If you want any part 
 consulted, refer me to the " Cap," but surely you will 
 be in England before you come forth, and can see the 
 books yourseK. 
 
 You are exiled to Ireland, quite a military Swift ! 
 we may now Swiftify and Popify as if we were wits of 
 the last century. 
 
 What shaU we do with Davies ? he is too facetious 
 for Si, Gay and not simple enough ; the dog shall be a 
 second-hand St. John (chiefly on account of his irreli- 
 
 gion), Hodgson shall be what shall he be ? Baillie, 
 
 Dr. Arbuthnot — " almost as quickly as he conquered 
 Spain." Cawtlwrn, Lintot ; and Dallas the Duchess of 
 Queensberry ! 
 
 So we may play at wits, as children (no offence) at 
 soldiers. 
 
 You wUl address here as usual. I am about to join 
 Davies at Cambridge, but your letters wiU be for- 
 warded. 
 
 You shall have the note when printed, but my 
 publisher is in no hurry, nor am I. — Do you get on. 
 I hope we shan't contradict one another, Dear H. 
 
 Yours ever, B. 
 
 Newstead Abbey, October lith, 1811. 
 
 Dear Hobhouse, — In my last I answered your 
 queries, and now I shall acquaint you with my move- 
 ments, according to your former request. 
 
 I have been down to Rochdale with Hanson ; the 
 property there, if I work the mines myself, will produce 
 about £4000 pr. arm. ; but to do this I must lay out 
 at least £10,000 in etceteras, or if I chance to let it
 
 50 RETURN TO ENGLAND [ch. ii 
 
 without incurring such expenditure, it will produce 
 a rental of half the above sum, so we are to work the 
 collieries ourselves, of course. 
 
 Newstead is to be advanced immediately to £2100 
 pr. ann., so that my income might be made about £6000 
 pr. ann. But here comes at least £20,000 of debt, and 
 I must mortgage for that and other expenses, so that 
 altogether my situation is perplexing. 
 
 I believe the above statement to be nearly correct, 
 and so ends the chapter. If I chose to turn out my old 
 bad tenants, and take monied men, they say Newstead 
 would bear a few hundreds more from its great extent ; 
 but this I shall hardly do. It contains 3800 acres, 
 includmg the Forest land, the Rochdale manor, 8256 
 acres of Lancashire, which are larger than ours. 
 
 So there you have my territories on the earth, and 
 in " the waters under the earth ; " but I must marry 
 some heiress, or I shall always be involved. 
 
 Now for higher matters. My Boke is in y' press, 
 and proceeds leisurely ; I have lately been sweating 
 notes, which I don't mean to make very voluminous, — 
 some remarks written at Athens, and the flom-ish on 
 Romaic which you have seen will constitute most of 
 them. The essence of that " valuable information,''^ 
 as you call it, is at your service, and shall be sent in 
 time for your purpose. I had also by accident detected 
 in Athens a blimder of Thornton, of a ludicrous 
 nature, in the Turkish language, of which I mean to 
 make some " pleasaunt mirth," in return for his abuse 
 of the Greeks. It is the passage about Pouqueville's ^ 
 story of the " Eater of Corrosive Sublimate." 
 
 By-the-bye, I rather suspect we shaU be at right 
 angles in our opinion of the Greeks ; I have not quite 
 made up my mind about them, but you I know are 
 decisively inimical. 
 
 I will write to you from Cambridge, or elsewhere. 
 Address to Newstead. Claridge is gone, after a lethar- 
 gic visit of three perennial weeks. How dull he is ! 
 
 1 Poetry, vol. ii, p. 195.
 
 1811-12] MARQUIS OF SLIGO 51 
 
 I wish the dog had any had qualities that one might not 
 be ashamed of disliking him, 
 
 Adio ! D. V, E. Umilissimo Servitore. 
 
 B. 
 
 King's College Ce., October 22nd, 1811. 
 
 My deab Hobhouse, — I write from Scrope's rooms, 
 whom I have just assisted to put to bed in a state of 
 outrageous intoxication. I thmk I never saw him so 
 bad before. 
 
 We dined at IMr. Caldwell's, of Jesus Coll., where 
 we met Dr. Clarke and others of the gown, and Scrope 
 finished himself as usual. He has been m a similar 
 state every evening since my arrival here a few days 
 ago. 
 
 We are to dine at Dr. Clarke's on Thursday. I find 
 he knows little of Romaic, so we shall have that 
 department entirely to ourselves. I tell you this that 
 you need not fear any competitor, particularly so 
 formidable a one as Dr. Clarke would probably have 
 been. 
 
 I like him much, though Scrope says we talked so 
 bitterly, that he (the said Scrope) lost his listeners. 
 
 I proceed hence to town, where I shall enquire after 
 your work, which I am sorry to say stands stUl for 
 " want of copy,^^ to talk in technicals. 
 
 I am very low spirited on many accounts, and wine, 
 which, however, I do not quaff as formerly, has lost 
 its power over me. We all wish you here, and well, 
 wherever you are, but surely better with us. If you 
 don't soon retm-n, Scrope and I mean to visit you in 
 quarters. 
 
 The Marquis Sligo Ms in a great scrape about his 
 kidnappmg the seamen ; I, who know him, do not 
 
 1 On Dec. 30, 1812, the Marquis of Sligo was tried before Sir Wm. 
 Scott, Lord Ellenborough, and Baron Thonapson for enticing two sea- 
 men from H.M. Navy at Malta to serve on his own vessel, the Pylades, 
 and for having concealed them and made false statements when 
 his ship was searched. He was found guilty, and was fined £5,000 
 and condemned to be imprisoned in Newgate for four months. 
 1—5
 
 62 RETURN TO ENGLAND [ch. ii 
 
 think him so culpable as the Navy are determined to 
 make him. He is a good man. 
 
 I have been in Lancashire, Notts, but all places are 
 alike ; I cannot live under my present feelings ; I have 
 lost my appetite, my rest, and can neither read, write, 
 or act in comfort. 
 
 Everybody here is very polite and hospitable, my 
 friend Scrope particularly ; I wish to God he would 
 grow sober, as I much fear no constitution can long 
 support his excesses. If I lose him and you, what 
 am I ? Hodgson is not here, but expected soon ; 
 Newstead is my regular address. Demetrius is here, 
 much pleased with y^ place, Lord Sligo is about to send 
 back his Arnaouts. Excuse this dirty paper, it is of 
 Scrope's best. Good night. 
 
 Ever yours, Byron. 
 
 8, St. Jaiies' Street, November 2nd, 1811. 
 
 Dear Hobhouse, — I never meant to confound the 
 Bosnians and Arnaouts, but merely to say that all the 
 Bosniacs and most of y® Upper Albanians were Mussul- 
 men. The Suliotes are vUlainous Romans and speak 
 little Illyric. 
 
 I am full of news and business, to the which — 
 
 Firstly I have been engaged m a correspondence with 
 An^creon Moore, ^ who requested me to retract or atone 
 for a " charge of falsehood " 7ie supposed me to have 
 made against an address to the public which he 
 published — God knows when — on his duel with 
 Jeffrey. 
 
 I neither retracted nor would apologise, never having 
 seen y® address in question, and told him in answer to 
 his demi-hostile, semi-amicable epistle (for it began with 
 a complaint and ended with a hope that tve should be 
 " intimate "), that I was " willing " to adopt any 
 " conciliatory proposition that should not compromise 
 my own honour, or failing that, to give him 
 Batisf action." 
 
 1 See Letters and Journals, ii. 63-8.
 
 1811-12] MEETING WITH MOORE 53 
 
 This being done under the auspices of Scrope,* who 
 was to have enacted as second in case of need, Mr. 
 Moore was satisfied, and on Monday next we are to meet 
 at the house of " Pleasures of Memory " Rogers,' who is 
 M.'s friend, and who has behaved very well in y' business. 
 So, as dinners are preferable to duels, and nothing has 
 been conceded on my part, further than the truth, viz., 
 that I know nothing of said address (did you ever see 
 it ? and what was it about ?) and consequently could 
 not give the lie to what I never beheld, and as the Bard 
 has been graciously pleased to talk about his " sincere 
 respect for my talents," and " good will," &c. — 
 why, I shall be glad to know what you think of the 
 matter. 
 
 You will remember that the first hmt towards 
 acquaintance came from Moore, and coldly enough I 
 met it, as I fairly told him till the principal point was 
 discussed between us, I could not reply to the other 
 part of his letter, but now that is settled, JVIr. Rogers 
 (whom I never saw) has sent me an invitation to 
 meet the Irish Melodist on Monday. However you 
 shall see all the letters and copies of mine when we come 
 together again.* 
 
 Yesterday Hodgson dined with me, and muddled 
 himself so much, that at the play he was with diflSculty 
 kept in order. 
 
 Bold Webster dropped in after dinner and managed 
 to annoy Hodgson with his absurdity ; he talked of 
 H.'s satire and particularly his address to the 
 Electric ! ! ! (Eclectic) critics, and Person's edition of 
 Phocion ! ! ! and finished by asking H. if he had ever 
 read his (W.'s) pampJilet ! ! 
 
 He then, to mend matters, entered into a long defence 
 of his brother-in-law,* without any occasion, as nobody 
 
 1 Scrope Davieg. 
 
 2 Rogers' account of this dinner is given in Letters and Journals, 
 ii. 66. 
 
 3 For full particulars see Letters and Journals, ii. 59-65. See also 
 The Times, August 12, 1806. 
 
 • Lord Valentia.
 
 54 RETURN TO ENGLAND [ch. ii 
 
 had mentioned his name, persisted in spite of all 
 endeavours to make him change y* subject, and con- 
 cluded by saying that Lord Courtenay was " called 
 cousin by the King of Prussia " ! ! ! 
 
 Now all this is verbatim conversation of bold 
 Webster. You will think me Bankesing but it is a 
 fact Per Dio ! 
 
 Cawthorn has All's letter, but I wUl send it if you 
 please in a few days. Pray what are become of all my 
 Greek epistles ? They are not with y* prints. 
 
 The note you shall have, but it is not in the Press yet, 
 and lies in Dallas' possession. Demetrius is better of 
 the Excalcitration, and is at his wits' end to answer y* 
 queries. Dr. Clarke was highly polite to him and 
 me, and offered me his journals, &c. I admire him 
 much. Scrope is at Newmarket. I was well enough 
 treated at Cambridge, but glad to leave it, it made me 
 " leman-clioly " for many reasons and some d — d 
 bad ones. 
 
 Yours ever, Miraipcov. 
 
 8, St. James' Street, Noveinher 3rd, 1811. 
 
 Dear Hobhouse, — I wrote yesterday, but as usual 
 expatiated more on my own concerns than yours, and 
 owe you a second letter. I shall order a transcript of 
 y" note, and send it to you forthwith, as it will not be in 
 my press for some time. 
 
 Ibrahim Pacha is 'nown brother to Coul the ob- 
 noxious. No — I am wrong — brother to Giaffer, the 
 victim of Ali. The Pacha of Scutari's name I forget, 
 and never heard of Ochrida as a pachalic. 
 
 As to boundaries, I always thought dear Delimvinachi 
 was the frontier. Adem Bey, whom we met going to 
 Libochabo, is dead, in spite of Seculario and Frank ; 
 he was nephew to Ali, as you know. He was twenty- 
 three years of age. 
 
 Do come to England, and copy Meletius in person. 
 If you can't it will then devolve on your humble 
 servitor. I wiU facsimilize if it be requisite.
 
 1811-12] WEDDERBURN WEBSTER 55 
 
 I do take much interest in your q[uart]o,' and have 
 no doubt of its success, Albania is untrodden ground. 
 I don't know that a traveller has much to do with " likes 
 and dislikes," but you see Dr. Clarke's " Dislikes " 
 have answered very well. 
 
 My own mind is not very well made up as to y'' 
 Greeks, but I have no patience with the absurd ex- 
 tremes into which their panegjn^ists and detractors 
 have equally run. 
 
 I believe the No. of the Edinburgh Review, with 
 all that stuff on the Romaics, was written by Blomfield.^ 
 Leake ' agreed with me that it was very sad, and you 
 know he is well qualified to judge. 
 
 This is a secret, and Dr. Clarke told it me. Knowing 
 your discretion to be similar to mine, or at least that 
 there is nobody in Enniscorthy who will be much 
 edified by it, I send it over St. George's Channel. 
 
 I find I am a member of y* Alfred Club,* and con- 
 sequently a pot companion of your amiable progenitor, 
 Lord Valentia, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and such 
 cattle : I believe Ward is also one. 
 
 Bold Webster is ui a scrape with the " Morning Post," 
 " Morning Chronicle," and all other Posts, Morning and 
 Evening, about some letters on politics with which 
 he has lately been tying carmisters to his tail. They 
 charged him ten pounds for inserting one of these 
 precious billets, and if they had asked a hundred, the 
 disgrace to the paper was honestly worth it. It is in 
 vain that wife, relations, friends and enemies have risen 
 up in fierce opposition to his malady, nothing but a 
 thumbscrew, or a whitloe on the itching finger, can 
 quell his scribbling. 
 
 * Journey through Albania and other Provinces of Turkey, 1812. 
 
 2 Charles James Blomfield (1786-1857), afterwards, Bishop of 
 London. He edited five plays of .^schylus, and contributed on 
 classical subjects to various periodicals. 
 
 » See p. 47. 
 
 * In Albemarle Street. Byron says : " The Alfred was pleasant — 
 a little too sober and literary, and bored with Sotheby and Sir 
 Francis D'lvornois. It was upon the whole a decent resource on a 
 rainy day."
 
 56 RETURN TO ENGLAND [ch. ii 
 
 He has exposed himseH ; nay, hurt himself, for he was 
 soliciting a Scotch place, and wrote a defence of Lord 
 Fingal by way of ingratiating himself with Ministers ! ! ! 
 and the worst of it is that everybody knew this devil 
 of a defence to be his, though sans signature, and for 
 fear they should not, he told it unto all men. His 
 wife is very pretty, and I am much mistaken if five years 
 hence she don't give him reason to think so. Knowing 
 the man one is apt to fancy these things, but I really 
 thought she treated him, even already, with a due 
 portion of conjugal contempt, but I daresay this was 
 only the megrim of a misogynist. 
 
 At present he is the happiest of men, and has 
 asked me to go with them to a tragedy to see his 
 ivife cry ! 
 
 Just before I left Malta I wrote, during my ague, a 
 copy of Hudibrastics as an adieu to La Valette, which I 
 gave to Com' Eraser, because it contained a compliment 
 to Mrs. F., without intending the thing to be bandied 
 about. No sooner were we saOed than they were set in 
 circulation, and I am told by a lately arrived traveller, 
 that they are all, but particularly Oakes,' in a pucker ; 
 and yet I am sure there is nothing to annoy any body, 
 or a single personal allusion throughout as far as I 
 remember, for I kept no copy.' 
 
 When you write, address to Cawthorn's, and he will 
 forward your epistles, as I don't know where I am going, 
 or what I am about to do. 
 
 You can' t conceive how I miss you. Much more than 
 I did after your departure in the Archipelago, for there 
 we were but two, but here there are so many things we 
 should laugh at together, and support each other when 
 laughed at ourselves, that I yearn for you prodigiously. 
 
 * General Oakes, who commanded the troops at Malta. 
 2 Adieu, ye Joys of La Valette, written 26 May, 1811, not published 
 until 1832. Probably the lines — 
 
 " Adieu the supercilious air 
 Of all that strut * en militaire,' " 
 
 did not appeal to the General's sense of humour
 
 1811-12] FINANCIAL ANXIETIES 57 
 
 Sir J. Debathe * hath called upon me ; he is a 
 good deal improved in everjrthing but person, and 
 I think may live a session or two longer on his good 
 behaviour, 
 
 Claridge, my dearest friend (for he cost me much 
 more than fifteen shillings) is indeed dull. As to his 
 " attachment," will attachment keep one awake ? or 
 say pleasant things ? or even soar beyond an execrable 
 Oxonian pun ? and at our time of life to talk of 
 " attachment ! " When one has left school, aye and 
 college too, sdeath, one would think you were like 
 Euripides, who admired the autumn of Agatho. When 
 I was a child I thought as a child (saith St. Paul 
 and so say I), but now give me a man of calibre, a little 
 sense, a sprinkling of mformation, and as for "attach- 
 ment," I leave it with other trifles. 
 
 ' ' To those who trifle with more grace and ease, 
 Whose trifling pleases, and whom trifles please." 
 
 I believe my Rochdale statement was pretty correct ; 
 with this proviso, that if I could afford to lay out twenty 
 or thirty thousand pomids on it, the income would 
 probably be double the utmost I mentioned. 
 
 Davies also saw at Harrowgate several Lancashire 
 gentry, who told him the same thing, and I suppose he 
 speaks truth on this occasion, having no motive to the 
 contrary. 
 
 But you know I always was, and always shaU be, 
 an embarrassed man, and I must e'en fight my way 
 through between the files of rumed nobles and broken 
 shopkeepers which increase daily. 
 
 I must marry ; you know I hate women, and 
 for fear I should ever change that opinion, I shall 
 marry. 
 
 My Satire is going into a fifth edition, to which will be 
 added the " Hmts from Horace." Hodgson teUs me 
 
 1 Sir James Do Bathe (1792-1828) was with Byron at Harrow. 
 " He was one of my favoiiritos, whom I spoilt by indulgence." 
 (L^/c,p. 21.)
 
 68 RETURN TO ENGLAND [ch. ii 
 
 your tale from Boccace is much liked, with all its 
 indecency. ^ 
 
 Bland ^ is come back from France. 
 
 Yours ever, Bn. 
 
 8, St. James' Stbekt, November dih, 1811. 
 
 My dear Hobhofse, — I have lately been leading a 
 most poetical life with Messrs Rogers, Moore, and 
 Campbell, the latter indeed I have only seen once at 
 dinner at Mr. R.'s, but that once was enough to make 
 me wish to see him again. He was to have dined with 
 me to-day, but is laid up at Sydenham, however, I shall 
 see him next week. Rogers and Moore are very 
 pleasing, and not priggish, as poetical personages are 
 apt to be. Campbell is not at all what you would 
 suppose him from his writings, but agreeable never- 
 theless. 
 
 I have also seen a good deal of Ward, the eloquent, 
 who meets me to day with Rogers, Moore and our 
 Hodgson to dinner. I am very glad to have been 
 elected at the Alfred, not only because it is a difficult 
 thing, but I have met there several old acquaintances, 
 particularly Peel ' the secretary sub secretario. 
 
 1 saw there Sotheby the scribbler, who is a disagree- 
 
 ^ A tale foolishly inserted in Hobhouse's Miscellany. In an 
 unpublished letter to Byron, dated 10 Dec. 1810, Hobhouse 
 says : " The Miscellany is the most damned of any given work 
 of the present day. I do not mean damned by the critics, for they 
 have said nothing to my paradoxes — but damned by its own 
 indelicacy which is really too gross, but principally in a tale of mine 
 taken from Boccace, which the De\dl, the father of all damnation, 
 must have prompted me to insert. 
 
 2 Rev. Robert Bland (nicknamed " Don Hyperbolo "), a friend of 
 Hodgson. He is mentioned in English Bards, etc. Bland was 
 associated with Merivale in the publication (1813) Collections from the 
 Greek Anthology. He also published two volumes of original verse. 
 He spoke French like a native. When curate of Kenilworth he died, 
 in 1825. 
 
 » Sir Robert Peel (1788-1850), Byron's schoolfellow at Harrow, 
 and afterwards the Tory Member for Cashel, was at this time 
 Under-Secretary of State for War and the Colonies under Lord 
 Liverpool. He became Prime Minister in 1834.
 
 1811-12] LONDON SOCIETY 69 
 
 able dog, with rhyme written in every feature of his 
 wrinkled physiognomy. 
 
 I have also received, indirectly, a kind of pacific 
 overtmre from Lord Holland, so you see, people are very 
 civil when one don't deserve it. 
 
 AU Webster's connections are at their wits' end, to 
 cure him of his malady. They have applied to me to 
 talk to him seriously on y® subject, and I have talked, 
 but to no purpose, for he lost his temper, and invited 
 me to a controversy in the newspapers ! ! ! Valentia is 
 vastly annoyed, and so is W.'s spouse, but nothing will 
 do, he persists in his laudable design of becommg 
 ridiculous. 
 
 Cawthorn is at a stand-stUl for lack of Copy, Copy, 
 Copy ! 
 
 WiU you come here at Xmas, and bring or send my 
 Romaic MSS. ? or I will put you into Fosbrooke's 
 " Gloster Journal," so I wiU.^ 
 
 Believe me, Yours ever, Miratptov. 
 
 8, St. James's Stbeet, November IQth, 1811. 
 
 My dear H., — That is a most impudent simile and 
 incorrect, for the " vomit " came to the " dog " and not 
 the " dog " to the " vomit" and if you wiU teach me to 
 spit in anybody's face without offence, I will shake off 
 these gentlemen with the greatest good-will ; however, 
 I have never called on either, so am not to blame for the 
 slightest degree of good manners. 
 
 I send you Demetrius' ' traduzione, and make the 
 most of it; you must orthographize it in both languages, 
 as you will perceive. 
 
 1 dine to-day with Ward to meet the Lord knows 
 whom. Moore and I are on the best of terms, I 
 answered his letter in an explanatory way, but of 
 course conceded nothing in the shape of an apology ; 
 
 ^ Thomas Dudley Fosbroke (1770-1842) was an antiquary. 
 In 1802 he published his British Monachism. He probably edited a 
 local paper at Gloucester. He certainly wrote a History aj the 
 City of Oloucester in 1819. 
 
 2 Demetrius was Byron's valet.
 
 60 RETURN TO ENGLAND [ch. n 
 
 indeed his own letters were an odd mixture of complaint, 
 and a desire of amicable discussion. 
 
 Rogers said his behaviour was rather Irish, and that 
 mine was candid and manly. I hope it was, at least 
 the latter; I consulted Scrope before I sent off my letter, 
 but now the matter is completely adjusted, as R. said, 
 " honourably " to both. 
 
 Sotheby, whom I abused in my last, improves ; his 
 face is rather agamst him, and his maimer abrupt and 
 dogmatic, but I believe him to be much more amiable 
 than I thought him. 
 
 Rogers is a most excellent and unassuming soul, and 
 Moore an epitome of all that's delightful. 
 
 As to self, I am Ul with a cough. Demo has tumbled 
 down stairs, scalded his leg, been kicked by a horse, 
 hurt his kidneys, got a terrible " catchcold " (as he 
 calls it), and now suffers under these accumulated 
 mischances. 
 
 Fletcher is fat and facetious. 
 
 Yours ever, Miratpcov. 
 
 8, St. James' Street, November 11 th, 1811. 
 
 Dear H., — I wrote you a gossiping letter yesterday, 
 and shall do as much to-day, being partly confined with 
 a cough which prevented me from dining with Ward 
 according to invitation. 
 
 Demetrius' decypherings and paraphrase I sent off 
 at the same time and trust they will put you in a good 
 humour. 
 
 But I want my Romaic MSS. being in labour of 
 " Childe Harold" who is coming costively into the 
 world, after having undergone the ordeal of Gifford's 
 and Campbell's inspection, not that I am indebted to 
 either for a single alteration, for the same reason that 
 Lady Mary refused Pope, with a " No touching," &c. 
 However, they have been pleased to say very pleasant 
 things, if I may trust the word of others for Gifford, 
 and Campbell's own for himself. 
 
 The thing was shown by Murray (as you know I never
 
 1811-12] "CHILDE HAROLD" IN THE PRESS 61 
 
 was in the habit of bandying MSS. of my own) 
 and agaiQst my privity or concurrence. However, 
 it has, by good luck, turned out well, or I should 
 have been " feroce " with the bookseller, and very 
 deservedly. 
 
 Good paper, clear type, and vast margin as usual. 
 
 I have been sweating notes to a large amount, so that 
 y "Body of y* Book" will be bulky. Sixty-£ve 
 stanzas of y° first Canto are printed. 
 
 Cawthorn is also at work with a fifth Edition of 
 "English Bards"; this and "Hints from Horace," 
 with a thing on Lord Elgin called the " Curse of 
 Minerva " which you have never seen, wUl contribute 
 to Master Lintot's department, and make a monstrous 
 vol. of crown octavo. 
 
 You are very slow with Copy, and will delay till 
 the season is over. Your book will not come in 
 before green peas ; surely you don't intend it for 
 summer reading. 
 
 The four pages of to-day's proof are all I have redde, 
 as Cawthorn is shy of showing me your work, Lord 
 knows why.i 
 
 He had an MS. offered (I am not at liberty to mention 
 names ^) through the medium of Hodgson, who is not 
 the author, however, which he rejected, though backed 
 by your humble servitor. Not that I much admired 
 the said MS. which abused all my acquaintances, but 
 I wished to oblige Hodgson. 
 
 I am living as quietly as you can be, and have long 
 left off wine entirely, and never enter a coffee-house 
 of any description. My meal is generally at y* Alfred 
 where I munch my vegetables in peace. 
 
 Town is empty, but I stay on business, to get rid of 
 these damned annuities. 
 
 Webster is vanished with his wife, — Ward, Peel, 
 Rogers, Moore, Sotheby, Sir W. IngUby are the few I 
 have lately seen most of, with Lord Valentia, in whom I 
 
 ' Travels m Albania. 
 
 2 Probably Bland — Letters and Journals, ii. 77.
 
 62 RETURN TO ENGLAND [ch. n 
 
 see nothing very " Cativo," and as everybody speaks 
 to him one can't well avoid it. 
 
 I wish you would come over before Xmas, and 
 go down to Notts with me. AU the fathers on 
 the earth and under it should never keep me at 
 Enniscorthy. 
 
 I give you joy of your dinner with the Bishop of 
 Femes. Was not " Atherton " a Bishop ? What 
 says the Dean ? What a proper scoundrel that same 
 serving man must have been ; I thought better of the 
 Irish. 
 
 Mrs, Eraser,' Adair's antipathy,^ is in town : surely 
 she is agreeable, and Bob a coxcomb to find fault with 
 her phantasies. Consider it is a woman, and what can 
 be expected ? Peacock is come home, and dangling 
 after her secondo al' suo solito, 
 
 L** Sligo is in Ireland, and a scrape ; his Arnaouts are 
 going back to Rumelia, Government would not allow 
 them to go to Ireland, — Why ? nor further than ten 
 miles from London — Wherefore ? 
 
 Dallas is bringing out a farce ; his last did not succeed 
 bitterly, but has merit.' 
 
 Pratt has put Joe Blackett into two volumes as bad 
 as Purgatory.* Poor Joe, killed first and published 
 afterwards ; if the thing had been reversed, the wonder 
 had been less, but the cruelty equal. 
 
 I have heard nothing of Miss Milbanke's posthumous 
 buffooneries ; but here is Miss Seward, with 6 tomes of 
 
 ^ Mrs. Fraser was at Malta. 
 
 2 Sir Robert Adair, late Ambassador at Constantinople. 
 
 ^ Dallas's farce Not at Home was played at the Lyceum in Nov. 
 1809. 
 
 * Joseph Blacket, the Cobbler-poet, is mentioned both in English 
 Bards and the Hints from Horace. A volume of his poetry was pub- 
 lished in 1809, imder the title of Specimens, edited by Samuel Jackson 
 Pratt, a poet of the Cruscan school demolished by Gifiord in 
 his Baviad. Among those who befriended Blacket was Miss 
 Milbanke, who afterwards became Lady Byron. His poems were 
 collected, and published by Pratt in 1811, for the benefit of 
 Blacket' a orphan daughter. Blacket, who was born in 1786, died 
 in 1810.
 
 1811-12] HOBHOUSE, ALBANIA 63 
 
 the most disgusting trash, sailing over the Styx with 
 a fool's cap over her periwig as complacent as can be.^ 
 Scott is her Editor, I suppose, because she lards him 
 in every page. 
 
 Yours aye, M.'jraipcov. 
 
 8, St. James' Street, December 3rd, 1811. 
 
 My DEAR H, — All the MSS. are arrived, but your 
 letter is dissatisfactory. I mean to annex some 
 specimens of Romaic, but by no means to enter into 
 details for which I have neither time nor talent. But 
 supposing such to have been my intention, is not the 
 field wide enough for both ? I declare to you most 
 sincerely that I would rather throw up my publication 
 entirely, than be the means of curtaUing a page of yours. 
 
 There is a most formidable serious puff about you 
 and your work in the last No. of the " Critical Review," 
 and we have aU great expectation from it, and I am 
 convinced that the more you say on Romaic the better. 
 
 My thing shaU be sent off to you the moment it is 
 finished, and before it is with the public ; and so far 
 from impeding you I did hope that it would be a stepping 
 stone instead of a stumbling block in your way. My 
 notes will not be extensive, nor the specimens numerous, 
 nor shaU I say one word on the grammar or mtnutise of 
 y* language. So don't give up an idea on my account, 
 and as to contradicting me you will jonly do it where I 
 am wrong, and I shall forgive you, and so will the world. 
 
 Indeed I have assigned in my notes, as a reason for 
 saying so little, that you have much more to say on the 
 subject. So don't make me lie, in that respect at least. 
 
 Why not translate the drama, I certamly shall not, 
 
 ^ Anne Seward, poetess, who sang the friendships of the Ladies of 
 Llangollen. She was known as " The Swan of Lichfield." She 
 eupplied Boswell with particulars concerning Johnson, and was 
 acquainted with most of the celebrated writers of her day 
 (1747-1809). Sir Walter Scott visited her at Lichfield in 1807, 
 and she bequeathed to him her literary works and " remains." 
 To Constable, the Edinburgh publisher, she left her letters. Six 
 volumes of her letters appeared in 1811.
 
 64 RETURN TO ENGLAND [ch. ii 
 
 but insert a translation in verse of the "zJeOre" 
 song. 
 
 Besides, you have the Albanian Vocabulary, and / 
 merely two Albanian songs with a bald translation m 
 prose. 
 
 The extracts and specimens I leave to the learned to 
 construe, but I think you should insert them with a 
 translation. 
 
 The Devil's in it if there is not a field for both. 
 
 By-the-bye, why not publish a Romaic lexicon ? 
 I have an excellent one ; it is only translating the 
 Italian into English, and prefacing, and editing, and 
 such a work is sure to sell, and much wanted. I wish 
 you to undertake this, and wUl put the three quartos 
 into your hands if you will undertake it. 
 
 I am just returned from Cambridge, where I have 
 been visiting Hodgson and Harness,^ an old Harrow 
 friend whom you don't know. Do, pray, come to 
 England, and be my guest during your stay both in 
 town and at Notts. Hodgson and Harness are to be in 
 Notts at Xmas. Come and join us. 
 
 1 wish your damned regiment was disbanded. 
 S' death, why don't you desert ? Everybody enquires 
 after you, and what answer can I give ? 
 
 Yours ever, B, 
 
 8, St. James' Street, December 9th, 1811. 
 
 My dear Hobhouse, — At length I am your rival 
 in good fortune. I, this night, saw Robert Coates 
 perform Lothario at the Haymarket,' the house 
 crammed, but bribery (a bank token) procured an 
 excellent place near the stage. 
 
 ^ William Harness (1790-1869), a great friend of Byron, both at 
 Harrow and at Cambridge. He was Boyle lecturer at Cambridge 
 in 1822. He was perpetual curate of All Saints, Knightsbridge, from 
 1849 until his death twenty years later. His Life of Mary Russell 
 Mitford appeared in 1870. 
 
 2 Robert Coates (1772-1848), Lothario in Rowes' Fair Penitent. 
 For a very amusing accoimt of Coates in the character of Romeo, 
 see Captain Gronow'a Recollections and Anecdotes (Smith, Elder, 
 1877), pp. 47-52.
 
 1811-12] THE HAYMARKET THEATRE 65 
 
 Before the curtain drew up, a performer (all gemmen) 
 came forward and thus addressed the house, Ladies, 
 &c., " A melancholy accident has happened to the 
 
 "gentleman who undertook the part of Altamont 
 
 (here a dead stop — then — ) this accident has happened 
 " to his brother, who fell this afternoon through a 
 " loop-hole into the London Dock, and was taken up 
 " dead, Altamont has just entered the house, dis- 
 " tractedly, is — now dressing ! ! ! and wiQ appear in 
 " five minutes" ! ! ! Such were verbatim the words 
 of the apologist ; they were followed by a roar of laugh- 
 ter, and Altamont himself, who did not fall short of 
 Coates in absurdity. Damn me, if I ever saw such a 
 scene in my life ; the play was closed in 3rd act ; 
 after Bob's demise, nobody would hear a syllable, he 
 was interrupted several times before, and made speeches, 
 every soul was in hysterics, and all the actors on his 
 own model. You can't conceive how I longed for you ; 
 your taste for the ridiculous would have been gratified 
 to surfeit. 
 
 A farce followed in dumb-show, after Bob had been 
 hooted from the stage, for a bawdy address he attempted 
 to deliver between play and farce. 
 
 " Love a la mode " was damned, Coates was damned, 
 everything was damned, and damnable. 
 
 His enacting I need not describe, you have seen him 
 at Bath. But never did you see the others, never did 
 you hear the apology, never did you behold the " dis- 
 tracted " survivor of a " brother neck-broken through 
 a loop-hole in y* London Docks.^^ 
 
 Like George Faullaier these fellows defied burlesque. 
 Oh, Captain ! eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard, nor 
 can the heart of man conceive to-night's performance. 
 
 Baron Geramb was in the stage box,^ and Coates ia 
 
 ^ Baron Geramb was a German Jew who, for some time, excited 
 much public notice in London by the extravagance of his attire. 
 Being very troublesome, and even menacing in demanding remunera- 
 tion from Government, for a proposal he had made of engaging a 
 body of Croat troops in the service of England, he was, in 1812, 
 deported under the Aliens Act.
 
 66 RETURN TO ENGLAND [ch. ii 
 
 his address nailed the Baron to the infinite amusement 
 of the audience, and the discomfiture of Geramb, who 
 grew very wroth indeed, 
 
 I meant to write on other topics, but I must postpone. 
 I can think, and talk, and dream only of these buffoons. 
 
 " 'Tis done, 'tis numbered with the things that were, 
 " would, would it were to come " and you by my side 
 to see it. 
 
 Heigh ho ! Good-night. 
 
 Yours ever, B. 
 
 8, St. James' Street, December I5th, 1811. 
 
 My dear Hobhouse, — You are silent,! suppose, from 
 y' same reason that George Lamb's wit in y® farce 
 said nothing. 
 
 But this awful pause gives me hopes of seeing and 
 hearing you in " these parts," 
 
 I have been living quietly, reading Sir W. Drum- 
 mond's book on the bible, ^ and seeing Kemble and 
 Mrs. Siddons. 
 
 Yesterday Moore went over with me to Sydenham, 
 but did not find Campbell at home. M, said he was 
 probably at home, but " nefariously dirty," and would 
 not be seen in a poetical pickle. 
 
 I think you would like Moore, and I should have 
 great pleasm-e in bringing you together. To-morrow 
 I dine with Rogers and go to Coleridge's Lecture ; 
 Coleridge has attacked the " Pleasures of Hope," 
 and all other pleasures whatsoever.* 
 
 Cawthorn rises in y^ world, he talks of getting a novel 
 of M* D'Arblay's for 1000 gs. ! ! You and I must hide 
 our diminished heads. — What are you doing ? Dallas 
 is ill, Hodgson going crazy (I had a woful letter from 
 him yesterday, full of Phantasmagoria), Bland is haK 
 killed by his faithless Trulla, and Scrope at Cambridge 
 full of pleasaunt mirth. 
 
 1 (Edipus Judaicus, in which Sir William Drummond explained 
 Old Testament stories as astronomical allegories. The book was 
 published in 1811. 
 
 * See Letters and Journals, ii, 78.
 
 1811-12] RIOTS IN NOTTINGHAM 67 
 
 Hodgson passes his Xmas at Newstead, so does 
 Harness, him you don't know, he is a Harrow man, 
 that will be enough for you. Sir W™ Ingilby I have 
 frequently seen lately, and other returned voyagers. 
 Bold Webster is preparing caudle for his spouse, and 
 I am to be a Godiather. Ward has left town, and L** 
 Valentia gone with his son to Arley Hall. 
 
 The Alfred does well, but our cook has absconded in 
 debt, and be damned to him, which has thrown the 
 managing committee into hysterics, 
 
 I presume y* papers have told of y® riots in Notts, 
 breaking of frames and heads, and out-manoeuvring 
 the military. 
 
 Joe Murray has been frightened by dreams and 
 ghosts ; it is singular that he never superstitized for 
 seventy-six years before, AU my affairs are going on 
 very badly, and I must rebel too, if they don't mend. 
 I shall return to London for the meeting of Parliament. 
 
 Cambridge stands where it did, but all our acquain- 
 tances are gone, or superannuated. 
 
 I have now exhausted my gossip, and will spare you 
 for the present. 
 
 Believe me, Yours ever most truly, Mnraipcdv. 
 
 8, St. James' Street, December nth, 1811. 
 
 My dear Hobhotjse, — Pray translate the drama ; 
 I shall print it without any translation whatever. 
 I thought you had sent me your copies of the MS. and 
 meant to keep the originals, for I am in need of one of 
 the two. 
 
 S"" Demetrius is posed with your queries, and I would 
 not advise you to depend on him for correctness ; your 
 notes have been regularly put into his hands, and I will 
 press him about an answer. 
 
 You are devilish despondent, and I am not much 
 better, but in a state of tolerable apathy as to the fate 
 of my scribblings. Other things affect me just at 
 present. There is an omission in the answer of the 
 " TrpayfxaTevri]'? ; " as to your verbal queries I can 
 Bay nothing, Murray has the MS., queries and all. 
 1—6
 
 68 RETURN TO ENGLAND [cii. ii 
 
 I leave town to-morrow (19th) for Notts where the 
 weavers are in arms, and breaking of frames ; Hodg- 
 son thinks his frame will be broken amongst the rest. 
 I hope not. 
 
 The moment my Note has passed the press you shall 
 have the original. Cawthorn sent you a proof yester- 
 day ; I read part of it, and like it much, so did Hodgson. 
 There was one sentence we did not understand, and I 
 put as much in the margin. 
 
 I am perplexed with a thousand cares, all worldly, 
 but shall return to town about the 10th of January. 
 I am going to Notts, to be sulky for a fortnight. 
 
 From the little my notes will say, you can take freely, 
 and improve on them as I shall be out first. 
 
 I begin to be rather alarmed as the moment of publi- 
 cation approaches, but must man myseK. 
 
 I assure you it is by no means smooth water. 
 
 If you come to England in February, you will find 
 me here very quiet and glad to see you. 
 
 Sir W™ Drummond has printed a profane book on 
 the bible, but not published it for fear of clerical hys- 
 terics. It is all Hebrew and Chaldaic, and what not. 
 
 I must fold up this scrawl. 
 
 Yours ever, B. 
 
 8, St. James' Street, January \&th, 1812. 
 
 My dear Hobhotjse, — Hodgson was with me at 
 Newstead, and a Mr. Harness of Harrow, a mighty 
 friend of mine, but I am sick of Harrow things. 
 
 Hodgson and myself longed for you, and drank your 
 health daily, and I always threatened Harness with 
 you (when he misbehaved) as a particular enemy to 
 fine feelings and sentimental friendships. 
 
 Hodgson is ruined, Harry Drury is ruined, Butler 
 ruined, and Harrow not rising. Nottingham is in a 
 sad state, London as usual. Do leave Ireland ; I fear 
 your Catholics will find work for you, surely you won't 
 fight against them. Will you ? 
 
 I went down to the house, and resumed my seat
 
 1811-12] BYRON AS A REVIEWER 69 
 
 yesterday. I mean to try a speech, but have not yet 
 determmed on my subject. 
 
 I have been reviewing in the Monthly.^ Gait is in 
 England, has published, and is to send me his book. 
 
 I think the Monthly and Quarterly will be kind to 
 you, and very likely the Edin. For myself, I am per- 
 plexed with weightier cares than authorship. My 
 affairs are disordered in no small degree, but as those of 
 everybody else seem no better, one has the consolation 
 of being embarrassed in very good company. I am 
 dunning in Scotland for my mother's money, and it has 
 not yet been paid. I have been into Lancashire to no 
 great purpose, but Newstead is to be doubled in rent 
 directly. 
 
 I am, dear H. yrs. ever most affect'^. B. 
 
 * Monthly Review. In the Bodleian Library there is a copy of this 
 Review in which George Edward Griffiths (1769-1829) has entered the 
 initials of the authors of each article. To Byron is attributed an 
 article on the Poems of William Robert Spencer ; and another on 
 Neglected Genius, by W. H. Ireland. Both articles are printed 
 in the Appendix to vol. ii of the Letters and Journals.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE WITH LADY MELBOURNE 
 (1812) 
 
 1812 was the annus mirabilis of Byron's life : the year 
 in which he " woke one morning and found himself 
 famous." 
 
 On Feb. 27 he made his first speech in the House of 
 Lords, concerning which he wrote to Hodgson : "I 
 have had many marvellous eulogies repeated to me 
 since, in person and by proxy, from divers persons 
 ministerial — ^yea Ministerial — as well as oppositionists ! 
 Of them I shall only mention Sir F. Burdett. He says 
 it is the best speech by a lord since ' the Lord knows 
 when, 'probably from a fellow feeHng in the Sentiments." 
 
 Two days later the first two cantos of Childe Harold 
 were pubhshed, and raised him at one bound to the 
 highest pinnacle of literary fame. Only some four 
 months earlier he had come to London with but few 
 friends : a proud and shy youth who had not set his 
 foot within the precincts of select London Society, 
 From this time forward he became the most welcomed 
 and sought after member of that Society. 
 
 One of the houses, to which he first found the entree 
 was Melbourne House, and it was here that he formed 
 two close attachments which were destined to influence 
 his whole life. Elizabeth Lady Melbourne, sister of 
 Sir Ralph Milbanke and wife of Sir Peniston Lamb, 
 who had been created Viscount Melbourne in 1770, was 
 the mother of William Lamb and mother-in-law of 
 
 70
 
 1812] LADY BIELBOURNE 71 
 
 Lady Caroline Lamb. It is unnecessary to repeat 
 here all the story of the infatuated attachment of 
 Lady Caroline to Byron, the details of which will be 
 found fully set forth in the Letters and Journals. 
 
 Lady Melbourne was at this time 62 years of age. Of 
 her Byron wrote, " If she had been a few years younger, 
 what a fool she would have made of me had she thought 
 it worth her while — and I should have lost a most 
 valuable and agreeable friend." 
 
 The letters which follow, and are now published for 
 the first time, throw a flood of new light on Lord Byron's 
 friendship with Lady Melbourne and of the powerful 
 influence which she exercised over him. My reason 
 for printing them in full is stated in the preface to this 
 book, and it is much to be regretted that only one or 
 two of Lady Melbourne's complementary letters to 
 Byron now exist. It was mainly owing to Lady Mel- 
 bourne that Byron's ill-fated marriage with her niece 
 took place. 
 
 At the date when this correspondence begins, Byron 
 had become alienated from Lady Caroline Lamb, who 
 had been persuaded to accompany her mother, Lady 
 Bessborough, to Ireland. 
 
 Lady Melbourne died in 1818, and it is strange that 
 in the correspondence of that year included in these 
 volumes we find only one passing allusion to her 
 (Vol.11. 82). » 
 
 Byron to Lady Melbourne 
 
 Cheltenham, September IQth, 1812. 
 
 Deah Lady Melbourne, — I presume you have heard 
 and will not be sorry to hear again, that they are safely 
 deposited in Ireland,* and that the sea roUs between you 
 and one of your torments ; the other you see is still 
 
 1 Her death is alluded to in a letter to Mr. Murray, 23 Apr., 1818, 
 Letters and Journals. 
 
 * Lady Bessborough and Lady Caroline Lamb.
 
 72 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. in 
 
 at your elbow. Now (if you are as sincere as I some- 
 times almost dream) you will not regret to hear, that 
 I wish this to end, and it certainly shall not be renewed 
 on my part.^ It is not that I love another, but loving at 
 all is quite out of my way ; I am tired of being a fool, 
 and when I look back on the waste of time, and the 
 destruction of all my plans last winter by this last 
 romance, I am— what I ought to have been long 
 ago. It is true from early habit, one must make love 
 mechanically, as one swims. I was once very fond 
 of both, but now as I never swim, unless I tumble 
 into the water, I don't make love till almost obliged, 
 though I fear that is not the shortest way out of the 
 troubled waves with which in such accidents we must 
 struggle. 
 
 But I wlU say no more on this topic, as I am not sure 
 of my ground, and you can easily outwit me, as you 
 always hitherto have done. 
 
 To-day I have had a letter from Lord Holland, wish- 
 ing me to write for the opening theatre,' but as aU 
 Grub Street seems engaged in the contest, I have no 
 ambition to enter the lists, and have thrown my few 
 ideas into the fire. I never risk rivalry in anything, 
 you see the very lowest, as in this case, discourages 
 me, from a sort of mixed feeling, I don't know if it 
 be pride, but you will say it certainly is not modesty. 
 I suppose your friend Twiss will be one.' I hear 
 there are five hundred, and I wish him success. 
 I really think he would do it well, but few men 
 who have any character to lose, would risk it in 
 an anonymous scramble, for the sake of their own 
 feelings. 
 
 I have written to Lord H. to thank him and decline 
 the chance. 
 
 1 Byron's liaison with Lady Caroline Lamb. 
 
 2 Druiy Lane. 
 
 3 Horace Twiss (1787-1849), a wit and politician. In 1811 he 
 was a barrister, Inner Temple, and contributed squibs to the 
 papers. He went into Parliament and became Under-Secretary of 
 War and the Colonies.
 
 1812] LADY CAROLINE LAIVIB 73 
 
 Betty is performing here,* I fear very ill. His figure 
 is that of a hippopotamus, his face like the bull and 
 mouth on the panels of a heavy coach, his arms like 
 fins fattened out of shape, his voice the gargling of an 
 alderman with the quinsy, and his acting altogether 
 ought to be natural, for it certainly is like nothing 
 that Art has ever yet exhibited on the stage. 
 
 Will you honour me with a line at your leisure ? 
 On the most imlifferent subjects you please, and 
 believe me ever, 
 
 Yours very affectionately, B. 
 
 Cheltenham, September 13th, 1812. 
 
 My dear Lady M., — The end of Lady B[ess- 
 borough]'s letter shall be the beginning of mine. 
 " For Heaven's sake do not lose your hold on him." 
 Pray don't, / repeat, and assure you it is a very firm 
 one, " but the yoke is easy, and the burthen is light," 
 to use one of my scriptural phrases. 
 
 So far from being ashamed of being governed like 
 Lord Delacour or any other Lord or master, I am always 
 but too happy to find one to regulate or misregulate 
 me, and I am as docile as a dromedary, and can bear 
 almost as much. Will you undertake me ? If you 
 are sincere (which I still a little hesitate in believing), 
 give me but time, let hers ' retain her in Ireland — the 
 " gayer " the better. I want her just to be sufficiently 
 gay that I may have enough to bear me out on my own 
 
 ^ William Betty, an actor, called " the young Rosciua," was 
 bom in 1791. He played Hamlet in 1803 at Dublin. He entered as 
 a fellow-commoner of Christ's College, Cambridge, in 1809, but 
 returned to the stage in 1812. He had great vogue in his day, but 
 his career was brief and he finally retired in 1824, in his thirty-fourth 
 year, Byron, who saw him in 1812, pronounced his acting utterly 
 inadequate to the requirements of Covent Garden. He says that 
 " his figiire is fat, his features flat, his voice unmanageable, his action 
 ungraceful." {Letters and Journals, ii. 142.) 
 
 2 Lady Caroline Lamb. There are constant references to her in 
 the following letters, and readers who desire to know more about 
 her associations with Byron are referred to Letters and Journals, 
 ji. 114, note, 135, note, and Appendix III.
 
 74 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iii 
 
 part. Grant me but till December, and If I do not 
 disenchant the Dulcinea and Don Quichotte, both, 
 then I must attack the windmills, and leave the land 
 in quest of adventures. In the meantime I must, and 
 do write the greatest absurdities to keep her " gay," 
 and the more so because the last epistle informed me 
 that " eight gumeas, a mail, and a packet could soon 
 bring her to London," a threat which immediately 
 called forth a letter worthy of the Grand Cyrus or the 
 Duke of York, or any other hero of Madame Scudery 
 or Mrs. Clarke. 
 
 Poor Lady Bessborough ! with her hopes and her 
 fears. In fact it is no jest for her, or indeed any of us. 
 I must let you into one little secret— her foUy half did 
 this. At the commencement she piqued that " vanity " 
 (which it would be the vainest thing in the world 
 to deny) by telling me she was certain I was not 
 beloved, " that I was only led on for the sake of &c., 
 &c." This raised a devil between us, which now wiU 
 only be laid, I really do believe, in the Red Sea ; I made 
 no answer, but determined, not to pvrsue, for pursuit 
 it was not, but to sit still, and in a week after I was 
 convinced — not that [Caroline] loved me, for I do not 
 believe in the existence of what is caUed Love — but 
 that any other man in my situation would have believed 
 that he was loved. 
 
 Now, my dear Lady M,, you are all out as to my real 
 sentiments, I was, am, and shall be, I fear, attached 
 to another, one to whom I have never said much, but 
 have never lost sight of, and the whole of this interlude 
 has been the result of circumstances which it may be 
 too late to regret. Do you suppose that at my time 
 of life, were I so very far gone, that I should not be 
 in Ireland, or at least have followed into Wales, as 
 it was hinted was expected. Now they have crossed the 
 Channel, I feel anything but regret. I told you m my 
 two last, that I did not " like any other, &c., &c." 
 I deceived you and myself in saying so ; there was, 
 and is one whom I wished to marry, had not this 
 affair intervened, or had not some occurrences rather
 
 1812] MISS MILBANKE 75 
 
 discouraged me. When our drama was " rising " 
 (" I'll be d— d if it falls off," I may say with Sir Fretful), 
 in the 5th Act,' it was no time to hesitate. I had made 
 up my mind to bear the consequences of my own foUy ; 
 honour, pity, and a kind of affection all forbade me to 
 shrink, but now if I can honorably be off, if you are not 
 deceiving me, and if she does not take some accursed 
 step to precipitate her own inevitable fall (if not with 
 me, with some less lucky successor) — if these impossi- 
 bilities can be got over, all will be weU. If not — she 
 will travel. 
 
 As I have said so much, I may as weU say all. The 
 woman I mean is Miss Milbanke ; I know nothing of 
 her fortune, and I am told that her father is ruined, but 
 rayown will, when my Rochdale arrangements are closed, 
 be sufficient for both. My debts are not £25,000, and 
 the deuce is in it, if with R[ochdale] and the surplus of 
 N[ewstead], I could not contrive to be as independent 
 as half the peerage. 
 
 I know little of her, and have not the most distant 
 reason to suppose that I am at all a favourite in that 
 quarter. But I never saw a woman whom I esteemed 
 so much. But that chance is gone, and there's 
 an end. 
 
 Now, my dear Lady M., I am completely in your 
 
 power. I have not deceived you as to [C. L.]. I 
 
 hope you will not deem it vanity, when I soberly say 
 that it would have been want of gallantry, though the 
 acme of virtue, if I had played the Scipio on this occa- 
 sion. If through your means, or any means, I can be 
 free, or at least change my fetters, my regard and 
 admiration would not be increased, but my gratitude 
 would. In the meantime, it is by no means unfelt for 
 what you have already done. 
 
 To Lady B[essborough] I could not say all this, for 
 she would with the best intentions make the most 
 absurd use of it. What a miserable picture does 
 her letter present of this daughter 1 She seems 
 
 ^ Sheridan's Critic.
 
 76 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iii 
 
 afraid to know her, and, blind herself, writes in such 
 a manner as to open the eyes of all others. 
 
 I am still here in Holland's house, quiet and alone, 
 without any wish to add to my acquaintances. Your 
 departure was, I assure you, much more regretted than 
 that of any of your Imeals or collaterals, so do not you go 
 to Ireland, or I shall follow you o'er " flood and fen," a 
 complete Ignis fatuus— that is /, the epithet wUl nob 
 apply to you, so we wUl divide the expression ; you 
 would be the light, and I the fool. 
 
 I send you back the letter, and this fearful ream of my 
 own. Lady Caroline is suspicious about our counter- 
 plots, and I am obliged to be as treacherous as Talley- 
 rand, but remember that treachery is truth to you ; I 
 write as rarely as I can, but when I do, I must lie like 
 George Rose. Your name I never mention when I can 
 help it ; and aU my amatory tropes and figures are 
 exhausted. 
 
 I have a glimmering of hope. I had lost it — it is 
 renewed — all depends on it ; her worst enemy could not 
 wish her such a fate as now to be thrown back upon me. 
 
 Yours ever most truly, B, 
 
 P.S. — Dear Lady M., — Don't think me careless. My 
 correspondence since I was sixteen has not been of 
 a nature to aUow of any trust except to a lock and key, 
 and I have of late been doubly guarded. The few letters 
 of yours, and all others in case of the worst, shaU be 
 sent back or burnt. Surely after returning the one with 
 Mr. L.'s message,^ you will hardly suspect me of wishing 
 to take any advantage ; that was the only important 
 one in behaK of my own interests. Think me bad if 
 you please, but not meanly so. Lady B.'s under 
 another cover accompanies this. 
 
 Cheltenham, September 15th, 1812. 
 
 My deak Lady M., — " If I were lookmg in your face, 
 entre les deux yeux," I know not whether I should find 
 "frankness or truth," but certainly something which 
 
 1 William Lamb,
 
 1812] MRS. SPENCER SMITH 77 
 
 looks quite as well if not better than either, and what- 
 ever it may be, I would not have it changed for any 
 other expression ; as it has defied time, no wonder it 
 should perplex me. — " Manage her ! " it is impossible, 
 and as to friendship — no — it must be broken off at once, 
 and all I have left is to take some step which will make 
 her hate me effectually, for she must be in extremes. 
 
 What you state however is to be dreaded ; besides, she 
 presumes upon the weakness and affection of aU about 
 her, and the very confidence and kindness which would 
 break or reclaim a good heart, merely lead her own far- 
 ther from deserving them. Were this but secure, you 
 would find yourself mistaken in me. I speak from 
 experience ; except in one solitary instance, three 
 months have ever cured me. Take an example : in 
 the autumn of 1809 in the Mediterranean I was seized 
 with an everlasting passion,^ considerably more violent 
 on my part than this has ever been — everything was 
 settled— and we (the ive of that day) were to set off 
 for the Friuli : but, lo ! the Peace spoilt everything, 
 by putting this in possession of the French, and some 
 particular occurrences in the interim, determined me 
 to go to Constantinople. However we were to meet next 
 year at a certain time ; though I told my arnica there 
 was no time like the present, and that I could not 
 answer for the future. She trusted to her power, and 
 I at the moment had certainly much greater doubts 
 of her than myself. A year sped, and on my return 
 downwards I found at Smyrna and Athens despatches, 
 requiring the performance of this " bon billet qu' a la 
 Chatre," [sic] and telling me that one of us had returned 
 to the spot on purpose. But things had altered, as I 
 foresaw, and I proceeded very leisurely, not arriving 
 
 1 Mrs. Spencer Smith. Hobhouse, in an unpublished letter to his 
 sister, thus describes the Florence of Childe Harold. " She is a pretty 
 figure, and has a pretty face, fair and smiling ; of an age about 
 twenty-eight, but looking very young for her years. She plays and 
 sings well ; talks French, Italian and German — her native 
 language — perfectly, and English very well indeed. My friend 
 Byron fell in love with her."
 
 78 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iii 
 
 till some months after, pretty sure that in the interim 
 my idol was in no want of worshippers. 
 
 But she was there, and we met at the Palace. The 
 Governor (the most accommodatmg of all possible chief 
 magistrates) was kind enough to leave us to come to the 
 most diabolical of explanations. It was in the dog-days, 
 during a sirocco (I almost perspire now with the thoughts 
 of it), during the mtervals of an mtermittent fever (my 
 love had also intermitted with my malady), and I cer- 
 tainly feared the ague and my passion would both 
 return in full force. 
 
 I however got the better of both, and she sailed up 
 the Adriatic and I down to the Straits. I had, certes, 
 a good deal to contend agamst, for the lady (who was 
 a select friend of the Queen of Naples) had something 
 to gain in a few points and nothing to lose in reputation, 
 and was a woman perfectly mistress of herself and every 
 art of intrigue, personal or political — not at all in love, 
 but very able to persuade me that she was so, and sure 
 that I should make a most convenient and complaisant 
 fellow-traveller. She is now, I am told, writing her 
 memoirs at Vienna, in which I shall cut a very indifferent 
 figure ; and nothing survives of this most ambrosial 
 amour, which made me on one occasion risk my life,' 
 and on another almost drove me mad, but a few Duke 
 of Yoikish letters and certain baubles, which I dare 
 swear by this time have decorated the hands of half 
 Hungary and all Bohemia. Cosi finiva la musica. 
 
 Cheltenham, September 18th, 1812. 
 
 My DEAB Lady Melbourne, — I only wish you thought 
 your influence worth a " boast,'" I should ask, when it is 
 the highest compliment paid to myself. To you it 
 would be more, for (besides the little value of the thing) 
 you have seen enough to convince you how easUy I am 
 governed by anyone's presence, but you would be obeyed 
 even in absence. All persons in this situation are so, 
 from havmg too much heart, or too little head, one or 
 
 1 An allusion to his quarrel at Malta with the General's A.D.C. 
 Nothing came of the challenge (see p. 6).
 
 1812] MISS MILBANKE 79 
 
 both. Set mine down according to your calculations. 
 You and yours seem to me much the same as the Otto- 
 man family to the faithful ; they frequently change their 
 rulers, but never the reigning race. I am perfectly 
 convinced if I fell in love with a woman of Thibet, 
 she would turn out an emigree cousine of some of you. 
 
 You ask, " Am I sure of myself ? " and I answer no, 
 but you are, which I take to be a much better thing. 
 Miss M[ilbanke] I admire because she is a clever woman, 
 an amiable woman, and of high blood, for I have still a 
 few Norman and Scotch inherited prejudices on the last 
 score, were I to marry. As to love, that is done in a 
 week (provided the lady has a reasonable share) ; be- 
 sides, marriage goes on better with esteem and confidence 
 than romance, and she is quite pretty enough to be loved 
 bj^ her husband, without being so glaringly beautiful as 
 to attract too many rivals. She always reminds me of 
 " Emma " in the modern Griselda,^ and whomever I may 
 marry, that is the woman I would wish to have married. 
 It is odd enough that my acquaintance with Caroline 
 commenced with a confidence on my part about your 
 niece ; C. herself (as I have often told her) was theii not 
 at all to my taste, nor I (and I may believe her) to hers, 
 and we shall end probably as we began. However, if 
 after aU "it is decreed on high," that, like James the 
 fatalist, I must be hers, she shall be mhie as long as it 
 pleases her, and the circumstances under which she 
 becomes so, will at least make me devote my life to the 
 vain attempt of reconciling her to herself. Wretched 
 as it would render me, she should never laiow it ; the 
 sentence once past, I could never restore that which 
 she had lost, but all the reparation I could make should 
 be made, and the cup drained to the very dregs by 
 myself, so that its bitterness passed from her. 
 
 In the meantime, till it is irrevocable, I must and 
 may fairly endeavour to extricate both from a situation 
 which, from our total want of all but selfish con- 
 siderations, has brought us to the brink of the gulf. 
 
 * Miss Edgeworth's novel, published in 1804.
 
 80 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. m 
 
 Before I sink I will at least have a siuitn for it, though I 
 wish with all my heart it was the Hellespont instead, 
 or that I could cross this as easily as I did y® other. 
 One reproach I cannot escape. Whatever happens 
 hereafter, she will charge it on me, and so shall I, and 
 I fear that 
 
 " The first step or error none e'er could recall, 
 And the woman once fallen for ever must fall ; 
 Pursue to the last the career she begun, 
 And he false unto many, as faithless to one." ^ 
 
 Forgive one stanza of my own sad rhymes ; you 
 know I never did inflict any upon you before, nor will 
 again. 
 
 What think you of Lady Bessborough's last ? She 
 is losing those brilliant hopes expressed in the former 
 epistle. I have written three letters to Ireland and 
 cannot compass more, the last to Lady B. herself, in 
 which I never mentioned Lady C.'s name nor yours 
 (if I recoUect aright), nor alluded to either. It is an 
 odd thing to say, but I am sure Lady B, will be a little 
 provoked, if / am the first to change, for, like the 
 Governor of Tilbury Fort, although " the Countess is 
 resolved," the mother intenerisce un poco, and doubtless 
 will expect her daughter to be adored (like an Irish lease) 
 for a term of 99 years. I say it again, that happy as she 
 must and will be to have it broken off anyhow, she will 
 hate me if / don't break my heart ; now is it not so ? 
 Laugh — but answer me truly. 
 
 I am sorry that Caroline sends you extracts from 
 my epistles. I deserve it for the passage I showed 
 once to you, but remember that was in the outset, and 
 when everything said or sung was exculpatory and 
 innocent and what not. Moreover, recoUect what 
 absurdities a man must write to his idol, and that 
 " garbled extracts " prove nothing without the 
 context ; for my own part I declare that I recoUect no 
 such proposal of an epistolary truce, and the gambols at 
 divers houses of entertainment with y* express, &c., 
 
 1 This is part of a poem, printed in Hobhouse's Miscellany.
 
 1812] LADY CAROLINE LAMB 81 
 
 tend y* rather to confirm my statement. But I cannot 
 be sure, or answerable for all I have said or unsaid, 
 since " Jove " himself (some with Mrs. Malaprop would 
 read Job) has forgotten to " laugh at our perjuries." 
 I am certain that I tremble for the trunkfuls of my 
 contradictions, since, like a minister or a woman, she 
 may one day exhibit them in some magazine or some 
 quartos of villamous memories written in her 7000th 
 love- fit. 
 
 Now, dear Lady M., my 'paper spares you. 
 
 Believe me, with great regard, Yours ever, B. 
 
 P.S. — ^In your last you say you are " surrounded by 
 fools ; " Why then " motley's the only wear : " 
 
 " Oh that I were a fool, a motley fool ; 
 I am ambitious of a motley coat." 
 
 Well, will you answer, " Thou shalt have one." 
 
 Chi va piano va sano, 
 
 E chi va sano va lontano. 
 
 My progress has been " lontano," but alas ! y" 
 " sano " and " piano " are past praying for. 
 
 Chelten-ham, September 2\st, 1812. 
 
 Dear Lady M. — I have had at last a letter offering a 
 kind of release, and demanding an answer to a curious 
 question, viz., " whether I could live without her ? " 
 I began an answer ; more particularly as I have not 
 written these three weeks, but bewildering myself in 
 the course of the first sentence, threw it into the fire 
 and shall write no more. They, and she in particular, 
 have been extremely gay, to which I can have no ob- 
 jection whatever, the best proof of which is that I have 
 not expressed any ; Lady B. I rather think will 
 encourage some other connexion or connexions as a 
 temporary expedient. Poor soul ! her remedy would 
 yield me eventually ample revenge, if I felt any resent- 
 ment against her, which indeed I do not.
 
 82 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iii 
 
 I think, my dear Lady M., you must agree with me 
 
 that will fulfil y" prophecy in my last, and would, 
 
 had the present object of your fears never existed. I 
 have not written because it would only lead to endless 
 recapitulation, recrimination, 6o^/icration (take a 
 Kilkenny phrase), accusation, and aU -ations but 
 salvation. 
 
 Before I became candidate for the distinguished 
 honour of nepotism to your Ladyship, it will be as well 
 for me to know that your niece ' is not already dis- 
 posed of to a better bidder ; if not, I should like it of 
 all things, were it only for the pleasure of calling you 
 aimt ! and soliciting your benediction. 
 
 My only objection (supposing of course that y* lady's 
 was got over) would be to my mamma,* from whom I 
 have already by instinct imbibed a mortal aversion. 
 I am sadly out of practice in this sort of suit, and shall 
 make some villainous blunder ; but I will try, and if 
 this fails, anything else. 
 
 Your letter arrived just in time to prevent me from 
 setting off for Rochdale, where I was going to purchase 
 the great tithes of 12,000 acres of waste which cannot 
 be enclosed without my permission ; and as enclosure 
 alone makes the said tithes valuable, and the 
 Archbishop wishes to seU them, and I have hitherto 
 held out against enclosing with the view of obtaining 
 them, my agent is gone instead, which will do quite as 
 well, and save me a tiresome journey. 
 
 C.'s last letter is full of reproaches, which I don't 
 feel at all disposed to controvert nor to recriminate ; 
 but how could anything of this kind be carried without 
 10,000 perfidies, particularly one so vilely perplexed 
 in all its branches ! I cannot write ; I would not seem 
 jealous, and it would be under all circumstances 
 
 ^ Elizabeth Lady Melbourne was the only datighter of Sir Ralph 
 Milbanke, fifth Baronet, of Halnaby, Co, Yorks, and sister of Sir 
 Ralph Milbanke, whose only daughter, Anne Isabella (commonly 
 called Annabella), here referred to, in 1815 was married to Lord 
 Byron. 
 
 2 Lady Milbanke.
 
 1812] CONTEMPLATING MARRIAGE 83 
 
 improper to appear indifferent, and — and — Oh I am 
 in a diabolical dilemma, my great hope rests on the 
 Kilkenny theatricals ; some hero of the sock, some 
 Gracioso of the buskin will perhaps electrify poor 
 Lady Bessborough and transfer her alarms to an Irish 
 Roscius, 
 
 If I marry, positively it must be in three weeks ; 
 in the meantime I am falling in love as much as I can 
 with a new Juliet who sets off for London in the long 
 coach to-morrow to appear on (not in) Covent Garden ; 
 with an Italian songstress ; with a Welsh seamstress ; 
 with my agent's wife and daughter ; and a picture of 
 Buonaparte's Empress, who looks as fair and foolish 
 as she is dark and diaboHcal. 
 
 Now, my dear Lady M. , if I could not frank my letters 
 I should feel for you ; as it is, if they wake you 
 in the mornmg it is good for y' health, and if they make 
 you sleep at night — still better. 
 
 Ever yrs. most affect''' and truly, B. 
 
 P.S. — A letter of mine to you (before the voyage ^) 
 was found by her. Heaven knows where, and on this she 
 has again expatiated — n'importe — but who was careless? 
 Ma tante, methinks that reproach was somewhat 
 misplaced. If you left it in y^ way on purpose, it had 
 a blessed effect — it is but addmg another winding to 
 our labyrinth. She quotes from it passages which I 
 recollect. How could you. Lady M., how could you 
 " wear a pocket with a hole in it ! ! " 
 
 September 25th, 1812. 
 
 My deak Lady M., — It would answer no purpose to 
 write a syllable on any subject whatever, and neither 
 accelerate nor retard what we wish to prevent. She 
 must be left to chance ; conjugal affection and the 
 Kilkenny theatricals are equally in your favour. For 
 my part it is an accursed business, towards nor from 
 which I shall not move a single step ; if she throws 
 
 1 To Ireland.
 
 84 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. hi 
 
 herself upon me, " cosi finiva ; " if not, the sooner 
 it is over the better. From this moment I have done 
 with it ; only before she retm:ns allow me to know, that 
 I may act accordingly. But there wUl be nothing 
 to fear before that time, as if a woman, and a selfish 
 woman also, would not fill up the vacancy with the 
 first comer ! As to Annabella,^ she requires time and 
 all the cardinal virtues, and in the interim I am a little 
 verging towards one who demands neither, and saves 
 me besides the trouble of marrying, by being married 
 already. She besides does not speak English, and to me 
 nothing but Italian — a great point, for from certain 
 coincidences the very sound of that language is music 
 to me, and she has black eyes, and not a very white skin, 
 and reminds me of many in the Archipelago I wished 
 to forget, and makes me forget what I ought to 
 remember, aU which are against me. I only wish she 
 did not swallow so much supper — chicken wings, 
 sweetbreads, custards, peaches and port wine ; a 
 woman should never be seen eatmg or drinking, imless 
 it be lobster salad and champagne, the only truly feminine 
 and becoming viands. I recoUect imploring one lady 
 not to eat more than a fowl at a sitting, without effect, 
 and I have never yet made a single proselyte to 
 Pythagoras.^ 
 
 Now a word to yourself — a much more pleasing topic 
 than any of the preceding. I have no very high opinion 
 of your sex, but when I do see a woman superior not 
 only to all her own but to most of ours, I worship her 
 in proportion as I despise the rest. 
 
 And when I know that men of the first judgment and 
 the most distinguished abilities have entertained and do 
 entertain an opinion which my own humble observation, 
 without any great effort of discernment, has enabled me 
 to confirm on the same subject, you will not blame me 
 for following the example of my elders and betters, and 
 
 ^ Miss Milbanke. 
 
 2 I.e., to live upon the purest and most innocent food. He 
 forbade his disciples to eat flesh.
 
 1812] MAKING LOVE 85 
 
 admiring you certainly as much as you ever were 
 admired. My only regret is that the very awkward 
 circumstances in which we are placed prevent and will 
 prevent the improvement of an acquaintance which 
 I now almost regret having made, but recollect, what- 
 ever happens, that the loss of it must give me more pam 
 than even the precious acquisition (and this is saying 
 much) which will occasion that loss. 
 
 L^ Jersey has reinvited me to M[iddleton] for the 
 4th Oct., and I will be there if possible ; in the mean- 
 time, whatever step you take to break off this affair 
 has my full concurrence. But what you wished me to 
 write, would be a little too indifferent ; and that now 
 would be an insult, and I am much unwilling to hurt her 
 feelings now than ever (not from the mere apprehension 
 of a disclosure in her wrath), but I have always felt 
 that one who has given up much has a claim upon me 
 (at least — whatever she deserves from others) for every 
 respect that she may not feel her own degradation, and 
 this is the reason that I have not written at all lately 
 lest some expression might be misconstrued by her. 
 
 When the lady herself begins the quarrel, and adopts 
 a new " Cortejo,'" then my conscience is comforted. 
 She has not written to me for some days, which is 
 either a very bad or very good omen.^ Y" ever, B. 
 
 I observe that C. in her late epistles lays peculiar 
 stress upon her powers of attraction, upon W.'s attach- 
 ment,2 etc., and by way of enhancing the extreme 
 value of her regards, tells me that she " could make any 
 one in love with her " — an amiable accomplishment, but 
 unfortunately a little too general to be valuable. For 
 was there ever yet a woman, not absolutely disgusting, 
 who could not say or do the same thing ? Any woman 
 can make a man in love with her ; show me one who 
 can keep him so ! You perhaps can show me such a 
 woman, but I have not seen her for these — three weeks. 
 
 ^ Lady Melbourne's answer is printed in Lady Airlie's book, In 
 Whig Society, p. 143. 
 
 2 William Lamb, whom Lady Caroline meirried in June 1805.
 
 86 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iii 
 
 [Cheltenham] September 2%th, 1812. 
 
 My dear Lady M., — The non-mention of Miss R. 
 certainly looks very suspicious, but your correspondent 
 has fallen into a mistake in which I am sure neither 
 y® lady nor myseK could possibly join. Since your 
 departure I have hardly entered a single house ; the 
 Rawdons and the Oxfords and a family named Macleod 
 are the only persons I know. Lady C. Rawdon gave 
 me a general retainer to her box at the theatre, 
 where I generally go, which has probably produced the 
 surmise you mention. 
 
 Miss R. has always been a mighty favourite with me, 
 because she is unaffected, very accomplished, and lived 
 amongst the Greeks of Venice and Trieste, consequently 
 well versed in many topics which are common to her 
 and me, and would be very stupid to anyone else ; 
 I moreover think her very pretty, though not at all in 
 the style of beauty which I most admire ; but she 
 waltzes, and is for many reasons the very last woman on 
 earth I should covet (unless she were " my neighbour's 
 wife," and then the breaking a commandment would go 
 far in her behalf) ; nor do I think that our acquaintance 
 has extended even to a common flirtation ; besides, 
 her views are in another quarter, and so most assuredly 
 are mine, 
 
 I never heard of the report L''^ M[ilbanke] starts 
 from, and I am sure you will do me the justice to 
 believe I never dreamed of such a thing, and, had I 
 heard it, should have disbelieved such nonsense, as I do 
 now. I am not at all ashamed of my own bias towards 
 your niece, nor should have the least objection to its 
 being posted up at Charing Cross, though I should 
 never wish to hazard a refusal. 
 
 I certainly did wish to cultivate her acquaintance, 
 but Caroline told me she was engaged to Eden, so 
 did several others ; Mrs. L. [Mrs. George Lamb ?] 
 her great friend, was of opinion (and upon my 
 honour I believe her) that she neither did, could, 
 nor ought to like me ; and was, moreover, certain
 
 1812] LADY CAROLINE LAMB 87 
 
 that E.' would be the best husband in the world and 
 I its antithesis ; and certainly her word deserved to 
 be taken for one of 'us. 
 
 Under all these circumstances, and others I need not 
 recapitulate, was I to hazard my heart with a woman 
 I was very much inclined to like, but at the same time 
 sure could be nothing to me ? And then you know 
 my unfortunate manner, which always leads me to talk 
 too much to some particular person, or not at aU. 
 
 At present, as I told you in my last, I am rather cap- 
 tivated with a woman, not very beautiful, but very 
 much in the style I like : dark and lively, and neither 
 more nor less than " La Pucilla," of the opera, whom I 
 see sometimes at Col. Macleod's ; and whenever Italian 
 is spoken, I always strive to repair y® inroads want of 
 practice make in my memory of that dearest of aU 
 languages. She is very fond of her husband, which is 
 all the better, as thus, if a woman is attached to her 
 husband, how much more wUl she naturally like one 
 who is not her husband — in the same manner as a 
 woman does not always dislike a man who is violently 
 in love with another, arguing, says Fielding, in this way 
 — " If Mr. — loves Mrs. or Miss — so much, how much 
 more wUl he love me, who am so far the superior, not 
 
 only of Mrs. or Miss , but of all other Mistresses 
 
 or Misses whatsoever ? " 
 
 You can hardly say I do not trust you when I tell 
 you all these fooleries. At this 7noment another 
 express from Ireland ! ! ! More scenes ! — this woman " 
 will never rest till she has made us all what she and I 
 at least deserve. I must now write to her. I wrote 
 L'^y B. a letter, which she was fool enough to show her, 
 though I addressed it under cover to L*^ B. that she 
 might not ; her name was not mentioned in it, but it 
 was easy to discern by the contents that I was not 
 eager for their return. 
 
 1 The Honble. George Eden, who succeeded his father as Lord 
 Auckland in;1814. 
 
 2 Lady C. Lamb,
 
 88 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iii 
 
 6 o'clock. — So, having remanded Mr. O'Brien (the 
 Irish Cupid on whose wings this despatch was wafted) 
 back to Waterford, I resume, merely to say that I see 
 nothing but marriage, and a speedy one, can save me. 
 If your niece is obtainable, ' I should prefer her ; if not, 
 the very first woman who does not look as if she would 
 spit in my face, amongst the variety of spouses pro- 
 vided by your correspondents, etc. I am infinitely 
 amused with my Camerieros (who has lived with me 
 since I was ten years old, and been over the Mediter- 
 ranean, a prey to aU the mosquitoes and siroccos in 
 the Levant, in my service) ; he is eternally sounding the 
 praises of a Dutch widow now here, of great riches and 
 rotundity, and very pretty withal, whose Abigail has 
 made a conquest of him (a married man), and they have 
 agreed how mfinitely convenient it would be, that as 
 they can't marry, their master and mistress should. 
 
 We shall meet at Middleton, I hope, mia carissima 
 Zia. I wish my nepotism was well over. I do not care 
 at aU about Sir R[alph Milbanke]'s involvements, for 
 I think that with the command of floating capital 
 which my late N[ewstead] business has put in my power, 
 some arrangement might be made with him that might 
 be advantageous to both, supposing this marriage could 
 be effected. When they come here I don't see how we 
 are to meet, for I go nowhere. Does Annabella waltz ? 
 It is an odd question, but a very essential point with 
 me. I wish somebody could say at once that I wish 
 to propose to her ; but I have great doubts of her — 
 it rests with herself entirely. 
 
 Believe me, dear J/^ M. , Ever y^ most affectionately, 
 
 B. 
 
 P.S. — I have written you the vilest and most egotis- 
 tical letter that ever was scribbled ; but Cara's courier 
 made me feel selfish, and you wiU pardon my catching 
 the infection. 
 
 Your apology for J/^ M[ilbanke's] appellation was 
 needless ; though aU my rhymes have got for me is a 
 
 1 Miss Milbanke.
 
 1812] FIRST PROPOSAL TO MISS MILBANKE 89 
 
 viUanous nickname. I know her, but latterly we act, 
 I suppose, upon this most stupid rumour. I don't 
 know how I shaU assuage this same craving. 
 
 I shaU be like Comus and the Lady. I am sadly out 
 of practice lately ; except a few sighs to a gentle- 
 woman at supper, who was too much occupied with y® 
 fourth wing of her second chicken to mind anything that 
 was not material. 
 
 Some time between the 1st October and the 17th of 
 that month in 1812, Byron, through an intermediary, 
 proposed marriage to Miss Milbanke and was refused. 
 In a letter written by Byron to Miss Milbanke [see 
 Letters and Journals, iii. , 397), it appears that the 
 proposal was made through Lady Melbourne. It 
 is evident that Lady Melbourne, upon receiving Miss 
 MUbanke's answer, wrote to Byron begging him not to 
 show any resentment on account of Miss MUbanke's 
 refusal to marry him. The following letter is evidently 
 Byron's reply : 
 
 Byron to Lady Melbourne 
 
 Beginning not found, probably Sept. 1812. 
 
 It is not / who am to be feared now but her with her 
 Pique. I need not repeat that I lay no stress upon 
 attachments, two balls and one admirer wUl settle the 
 last to her heart's content. I do not at aU know how to 
 deal with her, because she is unlike anyone else. My 
 letters have not reached her in Ireland, and she com- 
 plains on that account : the fault is not mine. I have 
 written twice but the Post has been negligent, or 
 Lady B. diligent, and this will make her do some sUly 
 thing. 
 
 If we are not enemies before they return, you will 
 inform me when they are expected, and I wUl be out of 
 the way unless something occurs to make that unneces- 
 sary.
 
 90 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iii 
 
 I shall not write any more to Ireland, if I can avoid it, 
 in fact I have said and unsaid and resaid till I am 
 exhausted and you will think that I have transferred 
 my tediousness and my letters from her to you. I 
 would marry before they return : this would settle it 
 at once, but I am new to that business, never having 
 made a proposal in my life (though I was brought up 
 to be married to one who was older than myself and 
 could not wait), and never married except by the month 
 in the Levant, where I was divorced twenty times from 
 those who had been divorced twenty times before and 
 since, and are now widowed again I dare say. Be- 
 sides, I do not know a single gentlewoman who would 
 venture upon me, but that seems the only rational 
 outlet from this adventure. 
 
 I admired your niece but she is engaged to Eden ; 
 besides, she deserves a better heart than mine. What 
 shall I do — shall I advertise ? 
 
 I thank you so much for your letters on all topics 
 different or indifferent — they are most welcome. 
 Cheltenham is a desert, nothing but the waters detain 
 me here. One word to break the monotony of my 
 days with delight. 
 
 Ever yours most truly, B. 
 
 Cheltenham, October 17th, 1812. 
 
 " Cut her ! " my dear L'^y M. Marry— Mahomet 
 forbid ! I am sure we shall be better friends than before, 
 and if I am not embarrassed by all this, I cannot see 
 for the soul of me why she should. Assure her, con 
 tutto rispetto, that the subject shall never be renewed 
 in any shape whatever, and assure yourseK, my caris- 
 sima (not Zia ; what then shall it be ? Choose your own 
 name) that were it not for this embarras with C[aroline]. 
 I would much rather remain as I am. I have had so 
 very little intercourse with the fair philosopher, that if 
 when we meet, I should endeavour to improve our 
 acquaintance, she must not mistake me, and assure her 
 I never shall mistake her. I never did, you will allow,
 
 1812] DRURY LANE ADDRESS 91 
 
 and God knows whether I am right or not ; but I do 
 think I am not very apt to think myself encouraged. 
 
 She is perfectly right in every point of view, and dur- 
 ing the slight suspense, I felt something very like 
 remorse, for sundry reasons, not at all connected with 
 C, nor with any occurrences since I knew you, or her, 
 or hers. Finding I must marry, however, on that 
 score I should have preferred a woman of birth and 
 talents ; but such a woman was not at all to blame for 
 not preferring me ; my heart never had an opportunity 
 of being much interested in the business, fm-ther than 
 that I should have very much liked to be your 
 relation. 
 
 And now to conclude, like L*^ Toppington, " I have 
 lost a thousand women in my time, but never had the 
 ill-manners to quarrel with them for such a trifle," 
 
 Talking of addresses puts me in mind of my Address,^ 
 which has been murdered (I hear) in the delivery, and 
 mauled (I see) in the newpapers ; and you don't tell 
 me whether you heard it recited. I almost wish you 
 may not, if this be the case, 
 
 I am asked to L** 0[xford]'s and L*^ Harrowby's, and 
 am wavering between the two. I cannot sufficiently 
 thank you for all the trouble you have taken on my 
 account ; the interest with which you honour me, would 
 amply repay for fifty vexations, even if I felt any, and 
 perhaps I do, without knowing it ; but I can't tell how 
 it is, but I think C[aroline] may be managed now, as well 
 as if the whole had taken place, if she has either pride 
 or principle, because she may now be convinced with a 
 little dexterity, at her return, that I am most anxious 
 to end everything — added to which the present denial 
 will lessen me in her estimation as an article of value, 
 and her vanity will help marvellously to her conversion. 
 
 You talk of my " religion ; " that rests between man 
 and his Maker, and to Him only can my feelings be 
 known ; for A[nnabella], it had been sufficient not to 
 find me an " infidel " in anything else. 
 
 1 Drury Lane Address, spoken on Saturday, 10 Oct. 1812.
 
 92 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. hi 
 
 I must now conclude, for I am pressed by the post ; 
 pray let me hear from you often, and believe me ever, 
 my dear L^y M. , y most affectionately, B. 
 
 October 18th, 1812. 
 
 My dear Lady M.,— Of A[nnabella] I have little 
 to add, but I do not regret what has passed ; the 
 report alluded to had hurt her feelings, and she has 
 now regained her tranquillity by the refutation to her 
 own satisfaction without disturbing mine. This was 
 but fair, and was not imexpected by me ; all things 
 considered, perhaps it could not have been better. 
 I think of her nearly as I did. The specimen you send 
 me is more favourable to her talents than her discern- 
 ment, and much too indulgent to the subject she has 
 chosen ; in some points the resemblance is very exact, 
 but you have not sent me the whole (I imagine) by 
 the abruptness of both beginning and end. 
 
 I am glad that your opinion coracides with mine on 
 the subject of her abilities and her excellent qualities ; 
 in both these points she is singularly fortunate. Still 
 there is something of the woman about her ; her 
 preferring that the letter to you should be sent forward 
 to me, per essempio, appears as if, though she would not 
 encourage, she was not disgusted with being admired. 
 I also may hazard a conjecture that an answer 
 addressed to herself might not have been displeasing, 
 but of this you are the best judge from actual observa- 
 tion. I cannot, however, see the necessity of its being 
 forwarded, unless I was either to admire the compo- 
 sition, or reply to y® contents. One I certainly do, the 
 other would merely lead to mutual compliments, very 
 sincere but somewhat tedious. 
 
 By the bye, what two famous letters your own are ! 
 I never saw such traits of discernment, observation of 
 character, knowledge of your own sex and sly conceal- 
 ment of your knowledge of the foibles of ours, than [sic] 
 in these epistles ; and so that I preserve you always as 
 a friend, and sometimes as a correspondent (the oftener 
 the better), believe me, my dear J/^ M., I shall
 
 1812] LADY CAROLINE LAMB 93 
 
 regret nothing but — the week we passed at Middle- 
 ton, till I can enjoy such another. 
 
 Now for Caroline. Your name was never mentioned 
 or hinted at. The passage was nearly as foUows : — 
 " I know from the best authority, your own, that your 
 time has passed in a very different manner, nor do I 
 object to it ; amuse yourself, but leave me quiet. 
 What would you have ? I go nowhere, I see no one, I 
 mix with no society, I write when it is proper ; these 
 perpetual causeless caprices are equally selfish and 
 absurd, etc. etc." and so on in answer to her description 
 of her lonely lovelorn condition ! ! I much in the same 
 severer style. And now this must end. If she persists 
 I will leave the country, I shall enter into no explana- 
 tions, write no epistles, softening or reverse, nor wiU 
 I meet her if it can be avoided, and certainly never but 
 in society. The sooner she is apprised of this the better ; 
 but with one so totally devoid of all conduct it is di£Bcult 
 to decide. I have no objection to her knowing what 
 passed about A[nnabella], if it would have any good 
 effect; nor do I wish it to be concealed, even from 
 others, or the world in general ; my vanity wiU not be 
 piqued by its development, and though it was not 
 accepted, I am not at all ashamed of my admiration 
 of the amiable Mathematician. 
 
 I did not reproach C. for " her behaviour,^'' but the 
 misrepresentation of it, and her suspicions of mine. 
 Why tell me she was dying instead of dancing, when I 
 had much rather hear she was acting, as she in fact acted 
 — viz. like any other person in good health, tolerable 
 society and high spirits ? In short I am not her lover, 
 and would rather not be her friend, though I never 
 can, nor will be her enemy. If it can be ended, let it be 
 without my interference. I will have nothing more to 
 do with it. Her letters (aU but one about L^ Clare 
 unanswered, and the answer to that strictly confined to 
 his concerns, except a hint on vanity at the close) are 
 filled with the most ridiculous egotism : " how the 
 Duke's mob observed her, hoiv the boys followed her, 
 the women caressed and the men admired, and how
 
 94 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. hi 
 
 many lovers were all sacrificed to this brilliant fit of 
 constancy," Who wants it forsooth, or expects it, after 
 sixteen ? Can't she take example from me ? Do I 
 embarrass myself about A. ? or the fifty B., C, D., 
 E., F., G., H.'s, &c. &c., that have preceded her in 
 cruelty, or kindness (the latter always the greater 
 plague) ? Not I ; and really, sans phrase, I think rny 
 loss is the most considerable. 
 
 I hear L'^^ Holland is ill, I hope not seriously. 1/ 
 O. went to-day, and I am still here with some idea 
 of proceeding either to Herefordshire * or to L** 
 Harrowby's, and one notion of being obliged to go to 
 London to meet my agent. 
 
 Pray let me hear from you ; I am so provoked at the 
 thought that our acquaintance may be interrupted by 
 the old phantasy. 
 
 I had and have twenty thousand things to say, and 
 I trust as many to hear, but somehow our conversations 
 never come to a clear conclusion. 
 
 I thank you again for your efforts with my Princess of 
 Parallelograms,* who has puzzled you more than the 
 Hypothenuse ; in her character she has not forgotten 
 " Mathematics," wherein I used to praise her cunning. 
 Her proceedings are quite rectangular, or rather we are 
 two parallel lines prolonged to infinity side by side, but 
 never to meet. Say what you please for, or of me, and 
 I will swear it. 
 
 Good even, my dear J/^ Melbourne, 
 
 Ever y" most affectionately, B. 
 
 Cheltenham, October 20th, 1812. 
 
 My dear L°^ M[elbourne], — ^Tell A[nnabella] that 
 I am more proud of her rejection than I can ever be 
 of another's accejMnce ; this sounds rather equivocal, 
 but if she takes it in the sense I mean it, and you don't 
 blunder it in the delivery, with one of your ivicked 
 laughs, it will do for want of something better. It 
 merely means that the hope of obtaining her (or 
 
 1 Lord Oxford's. * Miss Milbanke.
 
 1812] LADY OXFORD 95 
 
 anybody else — but skip this parenthesis) was more 
 pleasing than the possession of St. Ursula and the 
 11,000 virgins (being a greater number than have 
 ever since existed at the same time in that capacity) 
 could possibly have been to her " disconsolate and 
 unmathematical admirer, X. Y. Z." 
 
 " Not a word to C. ! " as you please. / who do not 
 write at all, am in no danger of betraying our con- 
 spiracies. I am not sorry to hear that she has written 
 to a " man " or " waltzed," because both were in the 
 Articles, of which I must take advantage at the proper 
 time, for the infringement, and be angry enough to make 
 a decent quarrel, or rather defence, when she falls upon 
 me, which she shall not, if I can keep out of the way. 
 
 My terrific projects amoimt to this — to remain on 
 good terms with U^ Cowper and Mrs. Lamb, and on the 
 best terms with you, being the three pleasantest persons, 
 in very different ways, with whom I am acquainted, 
 and to be as quiet or cool with C. — as a mere common 
 acquaintance — as my wish to retain your intimacy 
 will permit ; if not, and I must quarrel with one of the 
 parties, it shall certainly be with her, and indeed I 
 should prefer it at once on every account ; I am sick 
 and annoyed with the connection. I fear A. is right, 
 that I cannot be indifferent, but change from love '' to 
 hate with the bitterest contempt. " 
 
 Believe me I would not give up yoiu* friendship, and 
 that of three or four rational beings, for five thousand 
 Carolines, were each five thousand times more perfect 
 than she is the reverse. What can I say or write to 
 her ? It will answer no end. I shall be bored with 
 reproaches, exclamation, declamation, defamation, and 
 perhaps she may set off to display a vindication in 
 person. I mean {entre nous, my dear Machiavel) to 
 play off U^ 0[xford] against her, who would have no 
 objection perchance, but she dreads her scenes, and has 
 asked me not to mention that we have met, to C, or 
 that I am going to Eywood ' — where, by the bye, I am 
 not sure that I am going. 
 
 > Lord Oxford's place near Presteign.
 
 96 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iir 
 
 In short, if not by youi-self, cannot any of your 
 friends, intimate or subordinate, " varnish this tale of 
 truth " for her ? If it was a fiction there would be no 
 difficulty, but certainly truth is an artichoke, particu- 
 larly to her. 
 
 Not a word of L'^y O. for the present to C. — and 
 certainly to no 07ie else. When C. returns, she will 
 commence some precious flirtation elsewhere, which will 
 give me the opportunity of breaking at once. Perhaps 
 Dublin has done it already. Write to me, and believe 
 that whatever I am to A,, B., C, &c., I am ever 
 yours, 
 
 Most affectionately and sincerely, B. 
 
 P.S.— My love to L'^ M[elbourne]. 
 
 P.S. — Thanks for your Examiner ; Hunt is a clever 
 man, and I should like to know his opinion. Pray send 
 it, it will be very acceptable. I shall return it faithfully 
 if required. 
 
 October 24fh, 1812. 
 
 My deae, L^^' Melbourne, — I am just setting off 
 through detestable roads for — [Eywood]. You can 
 make such use of the incident of our acquaint- 
 ance as you please with C, only do not say that I 
 am there, because she will possibly write, or do some 
 absurd thing in that quarter, which wOl spoil every- 
 thing, and I think there are enough of persons 
 
 embroiled already, without the addition of , 
 
 who has besides enough to manage already without 
 these additions. This I know also to be her wish, 
 and certainly it is mine. You may say that we 
 met at C[heltenham] or elsewhere — anything but that 
 we are now together. By all means confide in 
 I/y " Blarney " ^ or the " Morning Post." Seriously, 
 if anything requires a little hyperbole, let her have it ; 
 I have left off writing entirely, and will have nothing 
 more to do with it. 
 
 " If you mention anything to me " she is sure to have 
 
 1 Lady Blarney was the sobriquet of Lady Bessborough.
 
 1812] MISS MILBANKE 97 
 
 it ! How ? I have not written these two months but 
 twice, nor was your name mentioned ia either. The 
 last was entirely about L*^ Clare, between whom and me 
 she has been intermeddling and conveying notes from 
 L*^y C[lar]e on the subject of a foolish difference between 
 Clare and myself, in which I believe I am wrong as 
 usual. But that is over. 
 
 Her last letters to me are full of complaints against 
 you, for I know not what disrespectful expressions about 
 the " letter opened." &c. &c. 
 
 I have not answered them nor shall. 
 
 They talk of going to SicUy. On that head I have 
 nothing to say, you and Mr. L[amb] are the best judges ; 
 to me it must be a matter of perfect indifference ; and 
 though I am written to professedly to be consulted 
 on the subject, what possible answer could I give that 
 would not be impertinent ? 
 
 It would be the hest place for her and the worst for 
 him (in all pomts of view) on earth, unless he was in 
 some official capacity. 
 
 As I have said before, do as you wUl. In my next 
 I wUl answer your questions as to the three persons you 
 speak of ; at present I have not time, though I am 
 tempted by the theme. 
 
 As to A[nnabella] that must take its chance — I mean 
 the acquamtance ; for it never wUl be anything more, 
 depend upon it, even if she revoked. I have stUl the 
 same opinion, but I never was enamoured ; and as I 
 very soon shall be in some other quarter, Cossi finiva. 
 Do not fear about C[aroline] even i£ we meet, but allow 
 me to keep out of the way if I can, merely for the sake 
 of peace and quietness. You were never more ground- 
 lessly alarmed ; for I am not what you imagine, in one 
 respect. I have gone through the experiment before ; 
 more than once, and I never was separated three months 
 without a perfect cure ; even though y^ acquaintance 
 was renewed, I have even stood as much violetice 
 as could be brought into the field in y^ present occasion. 
 In the first vol. of Marmontel's Memoirs, towards the 
 end, you wUl find my opinion on the subject of women in
 
 98 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. hi 
 
 general in the mouth of Madame de Tencirij should you 
 deign to think it worth a moment's notice. 
 
 Ever yours most affectionately, B. 
 
 P.S. — If you write to Cheltenham my letters will be 
 forwarded. And do write. I have very few corre- 
 spondents, and none but this which give me much 
 pleasure. 
 
 Eywood, Pbesteion, October 30lh, 1812. 
 
 My dear Lady M., — Though you have not written 
 to me lately, I can account for the 'prudential 
 silence, and do not blame you, although one of your 
 epistles anyivhere is a great comfort. 
 
 Everything stands as you could wish and as I wished, 
 and nothing more need be said on that subject. 
 
 I have had an epistle from Ireland, short and full of 
 resignation, so that I trust your cares are nearly wound 
 up in that quarter ; at least, I must appeal to you if I 
 have not done everything in my power to bring them to 
 a conclusion, and now I have more reasons than ever 
 for wishing them never to be renewed. 
 
 The country round this place is wild and beautiful, 
 consequently very delightful ; I think altogether 
 preferable even to Middleton (where the beauties 
 certainly did not belong to the landscape), although the 
 recollection of my visit there will always retain its 
 " proper " pre-eminence. 
 
 I am at present, however, a little laid up, for a short 
 time ago I received a blow with a stone thrown by 
 accident by one of the children, as I was viewing the 
 remains of a Roman encampment. It struck me — 
 providentially, though near the eye, yet far enough to 
 prevent the slightest injmy to that very material 
 organ ; and though I was a little stunned, and the 
 stone being very sharp, the wound bled rather 
 profusely, I have now recovered all but a slight scar, 
 which will remain, I rather think, for a considerable 
 time. It just missed an artery, which at first, from the 
 blood's flowing in a little epout, was supposed to be cut,
 
 1812] ACCIDENT TO LORD BYRON 99 
 
 but this was a false alarm ; indeed, I believe it has done 
 me good, for my headaches have since entirely ceased. 
 
 This is my old luck, always near something serious, 
 and generally escaping as now with a slight accident. 
 An inch either way — the temple, the eye, or eyelid — 
 would have made this no jesting matter ; as it is, I 
 thank my good Genius that I have still two eyes left 
 to admire you with, and a head (uncracked) which will 
 derive great benefit from anything which may spring 
 from your own. 
 
 I suppose you have left London, as I see by the papers 
 L*^ and IJ^ Cowper are returned to Herts. 
 
 If you hear anything that you think I ought to know, 
 depend upon my seconding you to the utmost, but I 
 believe you wUl coincide with me in opinion that there is 
 little apprehension 7iow of any scene from C, and still 
 less occasion to have recourse to A. or your " forlorn 
 hope " on that account. 
 
 I leave it to you to deal with JJ-^ B. and &c. Say of 
 me what you please, but do not let any other name be 
 taken in vain — particularly to one whom you so well 
 know as that ingenious hyperbolist I/^ B. 
 
 I am sick of scenes, and have imbibed a taste for 
 something like quiet. Do not quite forget me — for 
 everywhere I remember you, ever D"^ L'^^ M. 
 
 Y' most affectionate, B. 
 
 P.S. — Why are you silent ? Do you doubt me, in the 
 " bowers of Armida ? " I certainly am very much 
 enchanted, but your spells will always retain their fuU 
 force. Try them. 
 
 Eywood, Presteign, November Uh, 1812. 
 
 My dear IP^ M[elboi:rne], — Thanks for the notice, 
 of which I shall duly avaU myself. I have throughout 
 the whole of this, you are convmced, been perfectly 
 sincere with you and surely not less so now than ever. 
 It must end ; and I can see no purpose which any inter- 
 view can possibly answer ; and I wrote to say as much, 
 adding moreover another important truth — that I am 
 1—8
 
 100 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. hi 
 
 deeply and seriously engaged elsewhere. All our wishes 
 tend to quiet, and any scene of C.'s will merely involve 
 others in very unpleasant circumstances, without 
 tending at all to re-union, which is now absolutely 
 impossible, even if I wished it. Besides, as there will 
 be more breakings ofE than one, much precious mischief 
 will ensue if her illustrious example (I mean C.'s) is 
 to be imitated in all quarters. 
 
 In my last letter I stated that I was attached, but to 
 whom, even in allusion, I did not think myself justified 
 in mentioning.' 
 
 As to L^y B[essborough], what would she have ? 
 Have I not complied with her own professed wishes ? 
 Did I not tell you that, end how it would, she would 
 never forgive me for not being sufficiently dramatic. 
 I am out of all patience with her and hers, and, come 
 what may, will have no explanations, no scenes, no 
 anything ; and if necessary I will quit London or the 
 country altogether, rather than subject myself to the 
 renewal of the last year's harass. The sooner, the 
 stronger, the fuller you state this the better. Good God ! 
 am I to be hunted from place to place like a Russian 
 bear or Emperor ? Do pray, do what you can for me ; 
 I would not at this time have an eclat for the world. 
 This country is very much to my taste ; and I have 
 taken a seat of L*^ Oxford's (Kinsham Court, about five 
 miles off, in a delightful situation) for next year. I 
 believe some arrangements relative to it will call me 
 here again at Christmas. 
 
 This is no secret, and need not be one if you think 
 it worth mentioning. 
 
 I leave you full powers to say what you please to C. ; 
 she won't, I trust, be silly enough to torment anyone 
 but me, or she will find it labour in vain. 
 
 You need not doubt me ; by the bye, I am committing 
 
 ^ Lady Caroline Lamb, in her novel Olenarvon, gives a letter from 
 Glenarvon which was admitted by Byron to be copied from one 
 which he wrote to Lady Caroline. In it occur the words " learn that 
 I am attached to another." The letter is printed in Letters and 
 Journals, ii. 136.
 
 1812] KINSHAM COURT 101 
 
 myself too much, but let that be a proof that I do not 
 doubt you. 
 
 I am asked to Middleton on the 10th ; shall you be 
 there ? If so, I will go. 
 
 I do not know if my letter will reach Ireland in time, 
 nor what further good it may do. L"^^ B. with her 
 foolish prognostics — she does not wish them fulfilled 
 half so much as I do — she always said aU went on as she 
 wished ; pray Heaven it may ! 
 
 I write in very bad humour ; forgive it, only manage 
 her. I am sure of everyone else, even myself, the person 
 least likely to be depended on. 
 
 My next shaU be a pleasanter letter ; pardon the 
 peevishness of this. 
 
 Ever, my dearest friend, y^^, B. 
 
 Eywoop, Peesteign, November &h, 1812. 
 
 My dear L"'*^ M., — Not being aware of any amuse- 
 ment which can possibly last four-and-twenty hours, 
 by " Shrewsbury clock," sans intermission, I suppose 
 one may look at a Roman encampment now and then, 
 and yet be exceedingly occupied nevertheless with more 
 serious entertainments. 
 
 Your " Coach horse " is admirable, but not apropos. 
 I am glad you recommend " cupping ; " I wanted to 
 be so, but I/^ 0[xford] says I shan't (God knows why), 
 and you know I am too tractable to oppose a negative 
 to anything. 
 
 I believe I mentioned in my last that I have taken 
 Kinsham Court in this vicinity, with the description 
 of which I shaU not trouble you. I shall be here at 
 Christmas to look after my arrangements. 
 
 Seriously (and I am very serious), I have so completely 
 rendered a renewal with C. next to imposiible, that you 
 will at least give me credit for sincerity ; and to mend 
 the matter, aU this is infinitely more to my taste than 
 the A[nnabella] scheme, to which my principal induce- 
 ment was the tie to yourself, which I confess would 
 have delighted me. 
 
 I have had a tremulous letter from Mrs. [George]
 
 102 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iii 
 
 Lfamb], who is in a panic about C. This I have 
 answered, and announced, as a simple piece of informa- 
 tion, that I have taken a seat in Herefordshire, an 
 intimation which, with " L''^ Blarney's " marginal notes, 
 will have a miraculous effect on the arrival of Pandora 
 (and her boxes of evil for all her acquaintance) at Tixal. 
 
 So, a new accusation of imposition ! At M[iddleton], 
 and before — my memory really fails me — I never laughed 
 at P. (by the bye, this is an initial which might puzzle 
 posterity when our correspondence bursts forth in the 
 20th century), nor can I possibly pronounce where all 
 was " proper " who was the " properest," but I am 
 sure no one can regret the general propriety half so much 
 as I do. 
 
 Though we are very quiet, and wish to remain so as 
 much as C. and others may permit, yet we are also 
 determined to abide by our Articles, and not to relm- 
 quish a single right (read " wrong " instead, if you like) 
 which devolves to the conquerors on such occasions. 
 As to the L*^^ Blarney, though I expected some absurd 
 dissatisfaction on her part, I own it provokes me. 
 " Unfair ! " Who could act fairly with people who are 
 sending couriers, and threatening to follow them ? 
 As to C, she will find her in fits for the winter, without 
 me to help her, depend upon it ; and unless Providence 
 sends another Ulness and journey, it is all over with my 
 successor. I guess at Webster ^ (who is now in Parlia- 
 ment, and will be in town more) as the first essay ; but 
 I doubt the Bart, himself as somewhat of the coldest. 
 Besides, he must sacrifice his senatorial duties, and do 
 nothing else but attend to his perplexities, which will 
 be manifold. 
 
 I presume that I may now have access to the lower 
 regions of Melbourne House, from which my ascent 
 had long excluded me. I doubt if C. and I will be on 
 speaking terms ; and it is on the whole much better 
 we should not, but I trust the taciturnity is not to be 
 
 1 Sir Godfrey Vassal Webster, 5th Bart., M. P. for Sussex 1812-1 820, 
 b. 1789, d. 1836.
 
 1812] MR. CLAUGHTON AND NEWSTEAD 103 
 
 general. Your threatened visit of C. to this place 
 would have no effect in this quarter, all being secure. 
 I shall go to Middleton shortly after the 12th inst. ; 
 address your answer there, or to Cheltenham. I hope 
 to find you at M[iddleton]. 
 
 You see, nothing makes me unmindful of yon, and 
 I feel but too much obliged by your reciprocal remem- 
 brance. 
 Ever, my dear L*^^ M., Y''^ most affectionately, B. 
 
 November 9th, 1S12. 
 
 My dear LP^ M., — With y' letter I have received an 
 Irish Epistle, foolish, headstrong, and vainly threaten- 
 ing herself, &c. &c. To this I shall return no answer ; 
 and though it is of very great importance to me to be in 
 London at this time, I shall if possible delay it till I 
 hear from you that there is no chance of any scenes. 
 
 Mr. D. could hardly avoid guessing but too correctly, 
 for not a servant in the house but was afraid to awaken 
 me, and he was called home from a club for that purpose; 
 his first and natural question to the man, was whence 
 he came, from whom, and why ? the answer to all 
 which is obvious, but D. ought not to have mentioned 
 it, and so I shall tell him. 
 
 Why he placed me in Notts at this moment I cannot 
 say, except that he knew no better. 
 
 JVIr. C[laughton] may repent of his bargain for aught 
 I know to the contrary, but he has paid part of the 
 money. If he fails, the law will decide between us, and 
 if he acts in an ungentlemanly manner, the remedy is 
 still more simple. 
 
 With regard to L'^^ B[essborough] and JJ^ C[aroline], 
 I have little more to say, and I hope nothing to do. 
 She has hurt and disgusted me by her latter conduct 
 beyond expression, and even if I did not love another, 
 I would never speak to her again while I existed, and 
 this you have my full consent to state to those whom it 
 may concern. 1 have passed my time since her depar- 
 ture alioays quietly and partly delightfully, nor will 
 I submit to caprice and injustice.
 
 104 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iii 
 
 This was to he broken off — it is broken off. I had 
 neither the hope nor the inclination to satisfy L^^^ B[ess- 
 borough] on all points ; if it is unfair to comply with 
 her own express wishes, let her complain till she is tired, 
 but I trust a little reflection will convince even her that 
 she is wrong to be dissatisfied. C. threatens to revenge 
 herself upon herself, by all kinds of perverseness ; this 
 is her concern. All I desire is to have nothing more to 
 do with them — no explanations, no interviews ; in 
 short I neither can nor will bear it any longer. 
 
 As long as there was a necessity for supporting her 
 I did not shrink from any consequences, but when all 
 was adjusted and you agreed to overlook the past, in 
 the hope of the future, my resolution was taken, and 
 to that I have adhered, and will adhere. 
 
 I cannot exist without some object of love. I have 
 found one with whom I am perfectly satisfied, and who 
 as far as I can judge is no less so with me ; om? mutual 
 wish is quiet, and for this reason I find a double pleasure 
 (after all the ridiculous display of last season) in repose. 
 I have engaged myself too far to recede, nor do I regret 
 it. Are you at least satisfied with what I have done to 
 comply with your wishes, if U^^ B[essborough] is not ? 
 If L<^y C[aroline] wishes any interview pray explain for 
 me that / will not meet her ; if she has either pride 
 or feeling this will be sufficient. All letters, &c. &c., 
 may be easily destroyed without it. 
 
 November Wfh, 1812. 
 
 My deab IP^ M., — Last night myhostess,L'^^0[xford], 
 received a long epistle from Caroline containing a 
 number of unatiswerable questions, to all of which I 
 persuaded her to give no reply whatever. Is everyone 
 to be embroiled by C. ? Is she mad, or mischievous 
 only ? I was in doubt whether L** Oxford (who knew 
 the writer by L*^ Bessborough's franks) would not take 
 y® alarm, but we have foiled her there, if that was 
 her intention. This morning your letter arrives, and 
 really when I compare her letter to me, to L'^^ 0. , and the 
 contents of yours, I must pronounce C. to be the most
 
 1812] LADY OXFORD AND LADY CAROLINE 105 
 
 contradictory, absurd, selfish, and contemptibly wicked 
 of human productions. What she may say of me, I 
 can only surmise by what she has said of others, but 
 she seems to outdo the usual outdoings of gentlewomen 
 on such occasions. Fortunately for me, I have her own 
 testimonies in my behalf : but if she will raise a storm, 
 be it so. She will be the first to perish in it. Her 
 conduct as to Mr, Lamb is of a piece with the rest. 
 Since my first acquaintance with her I have suffered 
 nothing but discomfort of every description, nor can 
 I at all foresee how it will end. My own resolution 
 is taken. I do most sincerely wish that she would reflect 
 for one moment, or that she was fully aware of my 
 determination never to hold any kind of communication 
 with her in future, I have written till I am tired. I can 
 do no more, most assuredly, come what may ; she will 
 never be received by me — now, it is impossible, I 
 could wish to feel towards her as a friend, but as she 
 herself says, she has resolved since she is " not loved, 
 to be detested." 
 
 Her letter to me expressed this agreeable sentiment. 
 Her letter to L'^^ 0. was a long Oerman tirade, evidently 
 to discover on what terms we were ; and the informa- 
 tion contained in yours I need not comment upon. The 
 part about Mr, Lamb is like Don Felix, " she would 
 engross all the Violantes in the creation." If she loves 
 him,, why not permit me to be at rest ? if me — why this 
 affectation ? 
 
 You may suppose L'^y 0, is not very much delighted 
 with her new style of correspondence, besides having a 
 shght embarras of the same kind on her own hands on 
 the same score. In short, we manage, in our infinite love 
 of quiet, to disturb Ireland and Scotland, besides some 
 part of England and Wales. 
 
 In the meantime, the present is at our own disposal, 
 and as no one can answer for the future, 'tis a great 
 consolation to lose as little of it as possible. 
 
 How you will laugh at all this ! So should I were I 
 not one of the Dram. Pers. 
 
 Col. P.'s wound is slight — and L"*y Bessborough
 
 106 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. hi 
 
 must make the most of it with Caroline. It will 
 answer like the illness, if she does it as well. 
 
 Ever y^, my dear L^^ M., Most affectionately, B. 
 
 November Uth, 1812. 
 
 My dear L'^'^ M., — I trouble you again principally 
 to return through your hands to L^^ Bessborough an 
 Opera ticket, with many thanks and proper speeches. 
 
 Yesterday I wrote you a longish, dullish, and testy 
 letter, for a brilliant epistle from the Isle had put me out 
 of all patience, but I have already pronounced my Amen 
 to that subject. Amongst other excellent arguments 
 you may make use of, I humbly take the following to 
 be decisive : besides my other manifold imperfections — 
 which, I may say with Richard the Third, incapacitate 
 " me from skipping in a lady's chamber," I am 
 grown within these few months much fatter, and have a 
 visible scar under my right eye, quite " balafre ; " and 
 I can't think of starving myself down to an amatory size. 
 
 This, with the A. scheme^ — properly commented upon 
 — and my present abode, with all the concomitants, 
 might, I think, furnish out as pretty a maternal 
 harangue as ever was pronounced in Cavendish Square. 
 
 I have written to you so much, and so stupidly, that 
 I wiU now have mercy, and stop where I never stopped 
 before, at the second page. 
 
 Ever y"^, my dear friend, B. 
 
 November lAth, 1812. 
 
 My dear L°^ M., — This day a further dispatch 
 from C, with letters to me and our hostess — the one 
 to me rational enough, but to her only calm at the 
 commencement ; the conclusion winding up in the old 
 style, and threatening, if some imexpressed or unintel- 
 ligible wish (about a picture, I believe) is not complied 
 with, to visit Eywood in all her terrors. 
 
 They leave Ireland on the 10th, so by this time are 
 safe in England and, for aught I know, withm a few 
 mUes of us, for the roads are very near my present abode. 
 
 1 His proposal of marriage.
 
 1812] GOING TO LONDON 107 
 
 The floods have detained me beyond my time ; 
 indeed, business requires me in town, and I shall make 
 an attempt for Cheltenham on the 16th. 
 
 Lady Oxford is very anxious that I should not be 
 in town till C. has left it. So am I ; and I think you 
 wiU be of the same opinion. I have just this moment 
 been called to the window of the room where I am writ- 
 ing, and it has been suggested that a longer stay would 
 be better on that account ; but I fear that I must go on 
 Monday. If I remain much longer, " il Sposo " may be 
 seized with crotchets, and as I return at Xmas, and I 
 really have business, I determine on the journey. 
 
 My London letters all stop at Cheltenham, so I know 
 nothing but by cross posts. 
 
 If C. makes her debut here we shall have a pretty 
 scene ! She has received my letter avowing a penchant 
 elsewhere ; and though I did not specify the idol, her 
 subsequent epistles shew that the date of my own letter 
 had sufficiently expounded what was not stated, and 
 I do think, has answered the purpose to a certain 
 extent. She requires friendship ; but you know that 
 with her disposition it is impossible. For some time 
 at least, we must come to a total separation. Besides, 
 Lady Oxford is of that opinion, and whether right 
 or wrong, I have no choice ; and I certainly shall not 
 waver an instant between the two. You will, I hope, 
 prevent an interview. After all, you have more weight 
 with her than any one. 
 
 L'^y Blarney always spoils everythmg — bad as weU 
 as good ; never did anyone throw away such excellent 
 experiences. She does by accident all that JJ^^ 
 Holland performs on purpose. 
 
 If L"^ Jersey is not in town I shall stop at Middleton 
 in my way, according to invitation. But why are you 
 absent ? I expect to find letters from you at Chelten- 
 ham, and upon your advice much will depend. 
 
 I am perfectly satisfied with my situation, and have 
 no intention of changing it, unless others set the example. 
 
 Everything goes on " sans peur et san^ rep7'oche ," 
 yet very unlike Bayard for all that. I congratulate
 
 108 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. hi 
 
 A[nnabella] and myself on our mutual escape. That 
 would have been but a cold collation, and I prefer hot 
 suppers. 
 
 Dear L-^^ M., ever y\ B. 
 
 P.S. — I open my letter to say that I have just 
 been conversing with [Lady Oxford] on y® subject of 
 
 Caroline and her late strange letters to , and 
 
 she wishes me to remain a few days longer. I shall 
 therefore wait for your answer here ; one line only to 
 say where they are will reach me by Wednesday. 
 Pray write it, and my movements will be accordingly. 
 
 I thought and fully intended to have finished the 
 subject of C. for ever, but you perceive that it is impos- 
 sible till she is more tractable, I am, however, thank- 
 ful in one instance, that she has hitherto made no 
 progress in disturbing our arrangements. 
 
 I shall wait for your answer here, as otherwise I may 
 stumble on them on the road. 
 
 November IQth, 1812. 
 
 My dear L°^ M., — A letter from Holyhead proves 
 them in England.' She is rational and calm, though 
 rather plamtive, and still presses on the point of 
 seeing for the purpose of vindication, from I know 
 not what, which her friends and enemies have, it seems, 
 been about durmg her absence. To cut that short at 
 once, a jyromise has been requested and given, that I 
 will not on any account consent to such an interview ; 
 and this, if possible, I must adhere to. She denies ever 
 having abused me, &c., &c. Now this you know, 
 and I know, to be most contemptibly false — not only 
 to her mother, to IMrs. [G.] L[amb] and to you, but 
 she even forgets a volume of reproaches to myself, which 
 I shall remember rather longer than I could wish. 
 
 My hope now rests with you and your influence over 
 her, which I know to be great over all who know you, 
 and more even with her than she is aware of. 
 
 Recollect, whatever may be said, that your name has 
 
 1 The Bessboroughs with Lady C. Lamb.
 
 1812] LADY BESSBOROUGH 109 
 
 not been mentioned in any letter to her for these last 
 two months ; that she at most can only guess at what 
 has passed of our correspondence. You must use your 
 own discretion with L'^^ Bessborough, who is not the 
 trustiest of her age and country ; with her I have had 
 no communication whatever, since the letter which 
 puzzled her in October. 
 
 Lady Oxford received two letters from C. — the most 
 imprudent of her imprudent proceedings. Of course she 
 has sense enough to take no notice by answer or other- 
 wise ; and if C. does not renew her epistles, I will take 
 care that these do no mischief. 
 
 The roads are now impassable, but in a few days I 
 shall attempt my voyage London- ward by Cheltenham. 
 
 You will now, I trust, my dear L'^^ M., think that I 
 have kept to the tenor of our " hoTid ; " that I have 
 done all in my power to render a renewal impracticable ; 
 and I can assure you there are obstacles now in 
 the way sufficient to satisfy L^^ Bessborough, if any- 
 thing could satisfy a personage wavering between 
 Nature and Art : her own fears for the consequences to 
 C, and her anger that so interesting a heroine should 
 not be adored in the oldest, and most tedious fashion of 
 feminine worship. She is doubtless very angry that / 
 should change. I am sure I waited a decent time for 
 y* lady to take the fas ; and she may console herself 
 with the reflection that it was nothing on her part 
 from y® beginning but original sin, or vanitij— which, 
 I cannot determine ; but the next adventure with the 
 newest comer will probably shew to better advantage. 
 
 You will tell me if L'^y B. and I are to be on terms, 
 and how, and why, and wherefore, and when, and 
 hut, and if, &c., &c., down to the very " pourquoi of 
 the pourquoi.'^ 
 
 In the interim, I am ever, my dear L'^^ M., 
 
 Y'^ most truly, B. 
 
 November I8th, 1812. 
 
 My dear L°^ M., — I think it proper to apprise you 
 that I have written by this day's post to L^^ B. in
 
 no LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [cii. iii 
 
 Cavendish Square. Conceiving that my possible 
 arrival in town about the same time with herself and 
 hers, might awaken her alarms, I thought it as well to 
 explain that all was concluded between B. and C* 
 Your name is not even hinted at in this epistle (which 
 you will probably see), nor that of any other person, save 
 and except their tivo Ladyships B. and C. L., and your 
 humble servant. 
 
 Since my last I have heard nothing of C. I have only 
 to request y® continuance of your good offices to cement 
 the breach or rather to widen y^ separation. 
 
 I have little doubt the task is over ; nothing but the 
 spirit of contradiction could render it difficult, for love 
 is out of the question. 
 
 I am still here — only sad at the prospect of going ; 
 reading, laughing, and plajdng at blindman's-bufi with 
 y® children : a month has slipped away in this and such- 
 like innocent recreations ; my eye is well, and my 
 person fatter, but I shall soon return to my abstinent 
 system, and grow thin and austere as usual. 
 
 I have promised not to see C. (without permission, 
 which will not be granted for some time). This, you 
 may be sure, is not mentioned to I/^ B., and I think 
 may as well be kept in petto unless it becomes requisite, 
 which I trust will not be the case. 
 
 Have not I done weU for you '^. All to oblige your 
 ladyship, and prove my devotion. 
 
 I am off on Saturday. 
 
 Ever y", dear L-^^ M., B. 
 
 MiDDLETON, November 2Qth, 1812. 
 
 My dear L^^ Melbourne, — I perceive by y^ arrivals 
 and departures in y^ papers that you will not object 
 to my being in town (as I must be on Sunday) on 
 business. I shall take my seat on Tuesday, and not go 
 to the romantic melodrama of Monday,^ notwithstand- 
 mg the attraction of a royal Roscias. 
 
 1 Obviouslj-, Byi'on and Caroline. 
 
 2 Opening of Parliament.
 
 1812] WITH LORD AND LADY JERSEY 111 
 
 I have been here this two days past m the palace 
 of p'opriety, with a picture of Lucretia in the act of — 
 suicide, over my chimney, and a tome of Pamela lying 
 on y table ; y* first as a hint, I presume, not to covet 
 y® mistress of a house, and the last as a defensive 
 treatise in behalf of that maid. The decorations of my 
 last apartment were certainly very different, for a print 
 of Rinaldo and Armida was one of the most prominent 
 ornaments. 
 
 On Saturday I left Herefordshire, with more regrets 
 than need be inflicted in detail upon my correspon- 
 dents — so no more upon that topic. I begin to 
 think your rhetoric has had its proper effect on C. 
 I have written twice to the Lady B. to decline an 
 interview. 
 
 I found at Cheltenham your letters and C.'s, and 
 spared you on this eternal subject by a cessation of ink 
 for three days. I trust this is nearly the last to be shed 
 on the same theme. She charges me with my otvn 
 letters. I have heard that a man in liquor was some- 
 times responsible for what he may have said, and 
 perhaps the same rule extends to love ; if so, pray make 
 the amplest apology for me. The moment I came to 
 myself I was sorry for it. One thing the lady forgets. 
 For a very long time (in the calendar of Asmodeus) 
 my answers were the subject of endless reproach on 
 account of their coldness. At last I did write to her 
 without restraint, but rarely without regret. I do 
 not mean to deny my attachment — it was — ^and it is 
 not. 
 
 It was no great compliment, for I could love any- 
 thing on earth that appeared to wish it ; at the same 
 time I do sometimes like to choose for myself. 
 
 I shaU be in town (the post is waiting) at Batt's 
 Hotel, on Sunday. I write this to tell you as much, 
 as under the present circumstances we cannot meet 
 (except perhaps at 1/ H.'s) for some time, and I 
 heartUy acquiesce in your opmion upon that subject. 
 Believe me, ever 
 
 Y", d' I/^ M., B.
 
 112 LETTER TO MR. HOBHOUSE [ch. iii 
 
 MiDDLETON, November 21th, 1812. 
 
 My dear Hobhouse, — I have some hopes from what 
 I hear that you are m Parliament — if so— whatever 
 part you take, and of course it wUl be with your father, 
 I shall rejoice in the success of which I think you certain. 
 
 My time has been passed, since I wrote to you last, 
 chiefly at Eywood, where you would have been a 
 welcome guest, and I think, as pleased as pleasant. 
 
 In a few days I leave L*^ Jersey's for London, where 
 you will find me at Batt's Hotel, and at Xmas I return 
 to Eywood, near which I have taken a seat of L*^ O.'s 
 called Kinsham Court. 
 
 From all this you will infer that the connection 
 with Lady Caroline Lamb is completely broken off — 
 it is. I have formed another which, whatever its 
 advantages or disadvantages, is at least less trouble- 
 some and more to my taste. More it would not be fair 
 to add, even to you, mon ami, but I leave you to your 
 brilliant conjectures and usual laugh at my egaremens. 
 Sure I am you will rejoice at my disentanglement from 
 one who has plagued us both so frequently ; and as my 
 escape is not owing to my prudence, in future you will 
 have some confidence in y* Fates who have stood my 
 friends, and will, I trust, not abandon one who leaves 
 so much to their own good pleasure. 
 
 I was once not very far from you ; on yom* route 
 from Wales, you must have passed through Cheltenham. 
 
 I am still remote from marriage, and presume, when- 
 ever that takes place, " even-handed justice " will 
 return me cuckoldom in abundance. 
 
 I only left Eywood on Saturday, and have since been 
 chiefly here, where sundry of the nobility and gentry 
 are assembled in one of the pleasantest of all possible 
 houses. Both L^ J[ersey] and his Countess are delight- 
 ful, and their hospitality is Oriental, and except the 
 place which I lately left, I prefer that where I am to 
 all visiting residences. 
 
 Your father, it seems, has accepted a baronetcy, but 
 I hope he wUl not stop there ; it would give me great
 
 1812] LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE 113 
 
 pleasure to have you some day on our benches, 
 to which I trust his dignity is but a preliminary 
 step. 
 
 You will see me in town, but I shall not go to the 
 opening, if I arrive in time even for the regency 
 debut. 
 
 Tuesday will be time enough to take my seat. You 
 must have been amused with aU this c?ejected address 
 fracas ; to me the joke is somewhat near, but I can 
 laugh at it, though no gainer. 
 
 I can tell you some odd thmgs about it unknown to 
 the public. It was quite unthought of and unsought 
 by me. How go on the Quartos ? 
 
 Ever yours, my dear H., Byron. 
 
 Batt's Hotel, November 30^/i, 1812. 
 
 Dear L'°^ M., — I am just arrived, and have received 
 exactly 36 letters, notes, etc. (as I write, a 37th) of 
 all descriptions, so that I have full employment for 
 y® present. I find amongst them some from Caroline 
 of yesterday's date (Welwyn), I believe, most 
 incoherent, &c., and to which, in the name of aU 
 the saints and martyrs, what answer can I give, but 
 what has been given already ? 
 
 Her letters I have already said of my own accord I 
 wiU give up to her, or destroy in your or her or any 
 other's presence, so that the interference of any other 
 person will only mar my good intention. I thank you 
 for the hint— an answer to men always depends upon the 
 temperance and tenor of the question. 
 
 I am extremely glad that I did not receive y''^ of the 
 27th tiU just now, and that I had before from Chelten- 
 ham, stated my intention already as to letters " sans 
 phrase " from any person, because I much doubt 
 whether I could have given the like answer to a 
 peremptory embassy. 
 
 As to Lady Bessborough — how many months did 
 she spend in trying to make me believe the whole a 
 joke, &c., on C.'s part ? and now she is angry that I 
 at last believed so. I have some trinkets which she
 
 114 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iti 
 
 wishes returned, or rather had, for God knows where 
 they are by this time. I wish she would not think of 
 returning mine, as in that case I must search the 
 country for hers, which will take some time and trouble. 
 I shall endeavour to wait on you to-morrow. 
 
 D^ L'y M., ever y", B. 
 
 P.S. — The letter of to-day is the most mild I ever 
 read. I really have not patience for all this. I cannot 
 please everybody. She and I must not meet ; not 
 that I dread a past weakness, but it must not be. As 
 to others, I have really had so much plague on the 
 subject, and been at so much pains to free you all from 
 these inquietudes, that I very much fear my 'politeness 
 will not carry me much further. 
 
 L*^y H. has been taunting her, it seems. Her 
 answer to L'^^ 0.' is stuff. We nor she nor / sent any 
 answer ivhatever, and I have implored L^^^ O. to be 
 silent. If you knew but ten of the twenty scrapes I am 
 in at this moment you would (and will, I hope) pardon 
 my pettishness. 
 
 I do not [know] which are the worst, lawyers, friends, 
 or the fair sect. I know L'^^ O. has not answered her, 
 and will not I trust — but who can trust canything or 
 anybody ? 
 
 December 9th, 1812. 
 
 Dear L'^'^ M., — You have long ago forgotten a 
 certain ring which I am stUl in your debt, and I hope 
 you wUl not reject the only thing I ever dared to 
 present you, nor violate y^ conditions on which I 
 accepted your own by refusing this. 
 
 I regret that I lost your party last night, but meeting 
 with Hobhouse, whom I had not seen for some 
 time, I was detained too long either to appear or 
 apologise. 
 
 As I shall not see you before I leave town, I must 
 respectfully take my farewell, and assure you that as 
 
 1 Lady Oxford.
 
 1812] RETURN OF TRINKETS 115 
 
 far as / am concerned the amiable and sincere Phryne 
 shall never be the cause of further uneasiness. 
 To yourself I am ever, d'" L'^'' M. , 
 
 Most truly y'^ obliged and &c., &c., 
 
 Byron. 
 
 December fourteenth, 1812. 
 
 My Dear L'^^ M., — The trinkets are travelling (at 
 least most of them) in all parts of England and 
 Wales ; they certainly are not in the possession of 
 
 [Lady Oxford ?] ; indeed so anxious was I to 
 
 get rid of them that most of them had disappeared 
 before my acquaintance with her. The truth is, they 
 were all women's adornments, and looked so very out of 
 place in my custody, that lest they should seem not 
 honestly come by, I was too glad to find anyone to take 
 them off my hands. This is all the answer I can give 
 to a species of bullying which I presume the lady has 
 learned in Ireland. She will not deliver up my letters — 
 very well — ^I will deliver up her's nevertheless, and 
 mine she may make the most of ; they are very like 
 the Duke of York's,^ and the Editor of any magazine 
 will treat with her for them on moderate terms. 
 
 Whatever my motive — good or bad — may be for 
 resolving not to keep back her brOIiant documents, I 
 think it will not be imputed to fear, since by so doing 
 without receiving my own, I leave the story entirely 
 to her own teUing ; and as she has just acknowledged 
 that her letters would " ruin her,'' I leave my deter- 
 mination in this respect to her own construction, which, 
 of course, will be the worst possible. This I will do 
 on my return to you, and you only, or L''^ Bessborough, 
 save and except one box full, which I must for certain 
 reasons burn in your presence, so pray have a good fire, 
 and fireguard, on my next visit. I repeat that I never 
 will again request my own ; let her keep them, or what 
 she pleases. 
 
 ^ A reference to the trial for libel of Mary Anne Clarke, mistress 
 of the Duke of York. 
 1—9
 
 116 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. hi 
 
 I do not exactly understand who my " secret foes " 
 and her ambushed " men m buckram " are ; all this 
 we shall know m due time. I don't know whether I can 
 fight, but I presume, like the redoubtable Nym, 
 " I can wmk and hold out my cold iron " as well as 
 another.^ This I know, that if she does plunge me 
 into a quarrel, it will be a serious one, for I am tired 
 of trifling, and if any noble blood is to be spilt in her 
 behalf, I had as lief the puddle was Irish as of any other 
 complexion. She ■^Tites menacingly, and at the same 
 time accuses me of 'menaces. What menaces have I 
 used ? Poor little weak thing ! She says I " concealed " 
 myself in town, that is, I took my seat in the House, 
 and visited all my acquaintance every day. The 
 comparison of the rattlesnake, or any other with which 
 Polito can furnish her, are very much at her service. 
 I rejoice that she stopped at Exeter Change, being 
 rather apprehensive that she might have driven as far 
 as Billingsgate for a metaphor. Don't interrupt her, and 
 if she wishes you all to quarrel with me, pray mdulge her. 
 
 If I had the trinkets I could not deliver them up to 
 the tlireat of the " secret bitter assistant knights," and 
 I am rather glad that I have them not to deliver — her 
 letters I give up because she has a child. The other 
 things will be of no consequence, but will form pretty 
 subject-matter for dispute without hurting her. As I 
 have some guess at her " daring champions," I shall not 
 wait their good pleasure, but explain to them on the 
 very first opportunity my sentiments of them and their 
 conduct ; in the meantime I shall not stir to right or 
 left, but pursue " the even tenor of my way." This is 
 my answer to her and your letter. Tell L'^^ Bessborough 
 whatever disturbance arises is not my seeking. I have 
 borne as much as man can bear, and even now / will 
 put it out of my power to rely upon my own resolutions, 
 lest fresh insults should get the better of my temper. 
 All I desire from you or L'^^ B. is to " nothing extenuate 
 nor set down aught in malice ; " the last part of the 
 
 1 Corporal Nym. The Merry Wives oj Windsor, and Henry V.
 
 1812] LADY CAROLINE LAMB 117 
 
 quotation is not addressed to you. To her I have no 
 reply, no observation of any kind ; "if she will perish, 
 let her perish." If you hear anything further you will 
 let me know ; if not, at any rate write to me, and 
 believe me, 
 
 Ever y'^ most truly, B. 
 
 P.S. — I always thought that anything given to a 
 person became their property, and these things were 
 forced upon me, as she knows ; but once mine I was at 
 liberty to part with them, which I did to different people 
 almost immediately. 
 
 P.S. — She says I abuse her everywhere, and yet 
 conceal myself ! ! I do neither one nor the other. If 
 I mentioned her at all it would not be with praise ; but 
 it is a subject so utterly abhorrent to my feelings that 
 I never do, and as to concealment you can answer that. 
 
 December \5th, 1812. 
 
 Dear L°^ M., — Contrary to my first intent I have 
 answered her letter to me, and inclose it to you for 
 delivery. 
 
 If she writes to L*^ 0[xford] I am almost sure that he 
 will write to M' L[amb] ; if so — there will be a pretty 
 scene ; we had some difficulty to prevent this once 
 before, and I suppose it would not be very desirable 
 now. He is tolerably obstinate, and it would be as well 
 not to bring it to the proof ; of course I shaU prevent 
 it if possible, because eventually it would be unpleasant 
 to all parties, I should wish you to be present when she 
 receives this letter, and teU me the effect. 
 
 Ever yours, B. 
 
 Always take this with you ; you are not mentioned in 
 this letter, nor is any name therein. 
 
 [Eywood, Presteign], December 2lst, 1812. 
 
 My dear L°^ Melbourne, — I have not written to you 
 for some days, which must be some wonder and great 
 relief to yourself. I do not presume that my epistle 
 to the most amiable of the Ponsonbys wiU have much
 
 118 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. m 
 
 effect, and I fear L^^^ Bessborough will not deem it 
 sufficiently " soothing." 
 
 As the Lady, however, seems to have imagined herself 
 extremely terrific in my eyes, I could not altogether 
 humour the mistake, and leave it to the inhabitants of 
 
 Chili (or where is it ?) to worship the D 1. 
 
 " Soothing ! " quotha ! I wonder who wants it most ! 
 I think at least some portion of that same soothing 
 syrup ought to fall to my share. 
 
 We have some talk here of a voyage to Sicily, etc., 
 in the spring ; if so, I shall be of the party, but this is 
 merely speculation for the present. Hobhouse and 
 myself have serious thoughts of " Levanting " once 
 more, and I expect to hear from him soon on that, 
 and other subjects. 
 
 You wiU not be sorry to find me once more " on the 
 wings of the wind," and I hope you will send me some 
 English intelligence, foreign and domestic. I shall still 
 retain Kinsham (the place I have taken) even if I go 
 abroad ; if it will be any satisfaction to the respectable 
 C® to know that she has had some share in disgusting 
 me with this country, she may enjoy it to the full. If 
 it were not for others I would set saU to-morrow. 
 
 My resentment against her is merely passive. I never 
 wUl degrade myself into her enemy, notwithstanding 
 all the provocatives so plentifully administered. I 
 shall soon discover if she has been tampering with 
 Clare, but shall not interfere between them further than 
 concerns myself ; she wUl make nothing of him — he 
 has too much sense and too little vanity to be fooled 
 like his friend. 
 
 I wish much to see you on my return to London, 
 which will not be before the 12th of next month, if then ; 
 we are all very happy and serene — no scenes — a great 
 deal of music — good cheer — spirits and temper — and 
 every day convinces me of the contrast ; by the bye, this 
 travelling scheme, as far as regards all except Hobhouse 
 and myself, must be a secret — being the first between 
 you and me, and if you keep it well, I have ten more 
 for your discreet ear when we meet.
 
 1812] THREATS OF VENGEANCE 119 
 
 I have not received the letter you mention from 
 JJ^ B[essborough], and have no great interest in its safe 
 arrival. I do not want any recantations, and the old 
 or new excuses ; whatever the impression may be on 
 others, on my mind it is mdelible — but let that pass. 
 It is odd that her last letter to me (which came with 
 yours) contains nothing but mere general menaces of 
 vengeance, and professions of not unwelcome hatred, 
 but no particular denunciations of a serious description ; 
 the closing sentence is awfully amiable, and I copy it : — 
 " You have told me how foreign women revenge ; I 
 will show you how an Englishwoman can," — very like 
 the style of Miss Matthews in " Amelia," and Lucy in 
 the " Beggar's Opera," and by no means having even 
 the merit of novelty in my ears. 
 
 A namesake of C.'s was much more polite in her 
 expressions, though equally angry, and now, if I may 
 trust the authority of several reputable gentlefolks, 
 does me the honour after the interval of several years 
 to speak of me in very gentle terms, and perhaps in the 
 year 1820 your little Medea may relapse into a milder 
 tone. 
 
 Believe me, dear L'^^M., Ever yours, B^. 
 
 P.S. — I think your plan with her not so good as y' 
 general plans are ; as long as she is in y® country and 
 has nothing to do but gallop on the turnpike, and 
 scribble absurdities, she will be unmanageable ; but 
 a fortnight in town, the 10th uniform, the first fool, and 
 the last comer will work wonders ; commit her to 
 C[avendish] Square, and she will forget everything, if 
 not herself into the bargain. But you know best after 
 aU. 
 
 [Eywood, Pkesteion], December 23rd, 1812. 
 
 My dear Lady M., — Your last anecdote * seems 
 to shew that our friend is actually possessed by " the 
 
 1 Thia refers to the auto-da-fe at Brocket Hall ; when Lady 
 C. Lamb burnt all her Byronic koopsakes, with an appropriate 
 incantation. See Letters and Journals, ii. 447.
 
 120 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. hi 
 
 foul fiend Flibbertigibbet, who presides over mopping 
 and mowing," and if the provincial literati don't insert 
 it in the St. Albans Mercury, the collectors of extra- 
 ordinaries ought to be dismissed for malversation and 
 omission. Seriously, though, all this forms my best 
 justification. I very much fear it will not forward 
 your interests at the next election, except amongst y° 
 ballad- makers. What will the Lady B. say ? I fear 
 it will go nigh to the recall of Sir W. Farquhar, and the 
 ancient disorder. 
 
 Was the " odious book " (which has just attained the 
 summit of faine by giving a name to a very slow race- 
 horse) added to the conflagration ? and what might be the 
 pretty piece of eloquence delivered by her right trusty 
 henchman ? My letters would have added very appro- 
 priately to y® combustibles, and I regret y® omission of 
 such exquisite ingredients. 
 
 I wrote to you yesterday (franked and directed to 
 M. H., not having then received y® mandate to y® 
 contrary), and do not know that I can add anything to 
 my details in that sheet. We are completely out of the 
 world in this place, and have not even a difference to 
 diversify the scene or amuse our correspondents and 
 you know perhaps that the recapitulation or display 
 of all good things is very insipid to auditors or be- 
 holders. 
 
 I wait the news of the reception of that same ineffable 
 letter now in your hands, though (as I tell her) I have 
 no great hopes of its doing the least good. It is written 
 a little gravely but very much, nevertheless, in the 
 usual tone, which L'^^ B. is pleased to say is not 
 " soothing." I am really become very indifferent as 
 to her next proceedings, for what can she do more 
 than she has already done ? 
 
 I am much amused with y® tale of 1/^ Cowper's little 
 girl ; her mamma has always had a great share of my 
 most respectful admiration. But I don't desire to be 
 remembered to any of you, as I suppose the best wish 
 you have is to forget me as soon as possible ; besides 
 which, under y® impression of C.'s correspondence.
 
 1812] THE PRINCESS OF WALES 121 
 
 L'^y C. must conceive me to be a sucking Catiline, only 
 less respectable. Bankes ^ is going abroad, and, as I said 
 in my last, it is not very unlikely that I may recommence 
 voyaging amongst the Mussulmen. If so, I claim you 
 as a correspondent, since you won't give me up to the 
 reasonable request of the moderate C. , and in truth I 
 don't wish you should. You know I have obeyed you 
 in everything— in my suit to y® Princess of Parallelo- 
 grams,^ my breach with little 3Ia7iia, and my subsequent 
 acknowledgments of the sovereignty of Armida. You 
 have been my director, and are still, for I do not know 
 anything you could not make me do, or undo ; and 
 m'amie (but this you ivonH believe) has not yet learned 
 the art of managing me, nor superseded your authority. 
 You would have laughed a little time ago, when I 
 inadvertently said, talking of you, that there was 
 nothing you could not make me do, or give up (if you 
 thought it worth while) — a sentiment which did not 
 meet with the entire approbation of my audience, but 
 which I maintamed like a Muscovite enamoured of 
 despotism. 
 
 I hear little from London but the lies of the Gazette, 
 and will back Buonaparte against the field still. 
 
 Pray write and teU me how your taming goes on. 
 I am aU acquiescence to you, and as much yours as 
 ever, d' L'^y M. B. 
 
 [Eywood], December 21th, 1812. 
 
 My dear L"^ M.,— I know very little of the P.'s^" 
 party and less of her publication (if it be hers), and am 
 not at aU in y® secret ; but I am aware that the advice 
 given her by the most judicious of her " little Senate " 
 has been to remain quiet, and leave aU to the P[rincess] 
 C[harlotte]. 
 
 I have heard nothing of the thing you mention, 
 
 1 William John Bankes, Byron's friend at Cambridge. He died 
 at Venice in 1855. See Letters, i. 120. 
 
 2 Miss Milbanke. 
 
 » The Princess of Wales
 
 122 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. in 
 
 except in y® papers, and did not imagine it to be hers. 
 I by no means consider myself as an attache to her, or 
 any party ; though I certainly should support her 
 interest in Parliament if brought forward in any shape. 
 And I doubt the possibility of the divorce : firstly, 
 because he would already ii he could ; 2ndly, unless 
 there is different law for sovereign and subject, she 
 might recriminate (even were the charge proved), and 
 by the law of the land, as in L"^ Grosvenor and Duke C.'s 
 case, there could be no divorce ; 3rdly, it would hurt 
 the daughter ; 4thly, if he married again, and the 
 Holy Ghost or any other begat him an heir, still there 
 wo\Jd be a party ready to bastardize the product of the 
 2nd marriage, by maintaining the legality of the first 
 and denying his divorce to be legal ; and 5thly, the 
 uproar would be prodigious, and injure his nerves. For 
 my part I care not, and think this country wants a little 
 " civil buffeting " to bring some of us to our senses. 
 I shall not mention your name, nor what you have said, 
 though I fully agree with you that it is much better for 
 her to be quiet, 
 
 M'amie thinks I agree with her mall her politics, but 
 she wiU discover that this is a mistake. 
 
 She insists always upon the P[rincess]'s innocence ; 
 but then, as she sometimes reads me somewhat a tedious 
 homUy upon her own, I look upon it in much the same 
 point of view as I should on Mary Magdalen's vindi- 
 cation of Mrs. Joseph, or any other immaculate 
 riddle. 
 
 I suspect, from what you say, and what I have heard, 
 that there will be a scene. 
 
 My proposed confidence to you will do for our meet- 
 ing, and consists merely of one or two slight domestic 
 things on which I want to ask your advice — and you 
 know I not only ask but take it when you please. 
 
 I am glad C. is so quiet. Her account of my letter 
 is right ; her inference from it wrong. If she knew 
 anything of human nature she would feel that as long 
 as men love they forgive everything, but the moment it 
 is over they discover fifty things on which to ground a
 
 1812] LADY CAROLINE LAMB 123 
 
 plausible, and perpetual implacability. She could not 
 renew it, and this she knows, but she is quite right to 
 reserve a point for vanity. 
 
 In her last, she says: "she shall quit the room, or 
 the house the moment I enter it." I answered that 
 she was to do as she pleased, but that my carriage would 
 be always respectful, and as friendly as she thought 
 proper to allow — an expression I now regret, for she 
 will interpret it into a wish to be again in her trammels, 
 which I neither would nor could. Her letters were still 
 more absurd than ever — telling me she had " perjured 
 herself to Lady C[owper] and IVIrs. L[amb]," &c., to 
 whom it seems I betrayed her, &c. (I can safely appeal 
 to both, as you will or may discover) ; and all this was 
 my fault, and so on. Then comes a long account of the 
 bonfire, ^ still more ludicrous than ?/owr5,full of yeomanry, 
 'pages, gold chains, basket of flowers, herself, and all 
 other fooleries. 
 
 L** 0[xford] goes to town on Saturday next, and we 
 shaU follow him the week, or fortnight after. In the 
 meantime write to me ; we are very quiet and happy ; 
 but I shall certainly attend to what you say on travel- 
 ling " en famUle." 
 
 Believe me, dear L'^y M., Ever y", B. 
 
 P.S. — I just hear that we shall not be in town before 
 the 20th. 
 
 December 31s«, 1812. 
 
 My dear L"'*^ M., — I have received several epistles 
 from C, which I have answered as seemed best at 
 y* time. She has at last said that she heard of the 
 proposal, but is ignorant to whom. I have owned it, 
 but not added any names of any parties concerned, 
 though by this she probably knows, and it is quite as 
 weU she should. 
 
 Her letters are as usual full of contradictions, and 
 less truth (if possible) than ever. My last answer, which 
 was good-natured enough, but rather more facetious 
 
 1 At Brocket.
 
 124 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. m 
 
 than befits her taste, has produced a pettish rejoinder. 
 She has again written to L'^^ 0[xford], but quietly and 
 cunningly. 
 
 She has sent me a banker's receipt for some money 
 she swears she owes me, but which I will have nothing 
 to do with. I have returned it, and if the money is not 
 removed from Hoare's and my name withdrawn, I shall 
 most assuredly despatch it with her compliments, one 
 half to the Magdalen Asylum, and the other to St. 
 Luke's ^ as a donation, and return in kind for her bon- 
 fire. If she wOl play the fool, I rather think I shall 
 be seized with a fit of repartee, which will not be very 
 " soothing." This I beg you will hint as to the disposal 
 of this money. It is of no use to try " soothing " with 
 so detestable a disposition, and my patient stands 
 marvellously in need of repose. If JVIr. N. is one of 
 her confidants I regret it ; against him I have no 
 enmity but through her means. I was once before 
 nearly involved in a dispute, and not improbably shall 
 again. I do wish she would consider what the con- 
 sequences may be of this perpetual system of irritation 
 on my temper. I begin to look upon her as actually 
 mad, or it would be impossible for me to bear what I 
 have from her already.^ 
 
 We have no news here, and you do not know me well 
 if you suppose I covet them. I shall not entertain you 
 with a long list of attributes, but merely state that I have 
 not been guUty of once yawning in the eternity of two 
 months under the same roof — a phenomenon in my 
 history. We go on admirably in y^ country ; but how 
 town may suit us I cannot foresee. 
 
 I hear L?^ H[onan]d is not pleased with my present 
 place of abode — no bad reason for liking it better 
 myself. We shaU have no quarrels about my visits to 
 you, for you are a great favourite, though suspected 
 of undue influence (which you deserve), and were it 
 otherwise, after your firm adherence to my cause, I 
 
 1 Hospital for Lunatics, Old Street Road. 
 
 * All this shows the absiordity of Lady Caroline Lamb's letter to 
 Medwin in 1824. See Letters and Journals, ii. 451.
 
 1812] THE PRINCESS OF WALES 125 
 
 neither would nor could desert your banners, unless 
 dismissed by your own express request. 
 
 I sent you so long a letter the other day on y^ subject 
 of the P[rmces]s, that I shall now no further trespass on 
 your Xmas amusements than by wishing they may be 
 pleasantly prolonged for the present, and often renewed 
 hereafter. This is the last day of the year. I shall 
 hope to hear from you soon in the next, and, like the 
 Spaniards, hope you " may live a thousand." 
 
 Ever /% d^ L^^^ M., B.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE WITH LADY MELBOURNE 
 (1813) 
 
 [Eywood] January 4th, 1813. 
 
 My dear L°'^ M., — The passage I allude to contains 
 these words at the end of a long tirade, " which, 
 God forgive me, I solemnly denied," On looking 
 again, I find it is " denied with a solemn oath." I 
 am now tolerably aware from herself and others of 
 her late proceedings. Her last epistle was really not in 
 5^ language of a gentlewoman on the subject of my 
 resumption of my picture, after, however, restoring her 
 own. 
 
 I should esteem it as a great favour if you would once 
 more speak to Caroline from me. Again and again 
 I repeat that I have no wish to disturb her, nor am at 
 all conscious of having misrepresented her, or indeed 
 mentioned her name but to those to whom she had 
 already committed herself. Once more I beseech her, 
 for her own sake, to remain quiet ; and having done 
 this for the last time, I must add that if this is dis- 
 regarded, it will be out of my "power to prevent conse- 
 quences fatal to her, perhaps to others also, and which 
 I most sincerely wish to avoid. She forgets that all 
 does not depend upon me, and she is not aware that I 
 have done my utmost to silence some whose narratives 
 would not be very pleasing. 
 
 Remind her that the same man she is now trying by 
 every serious and petty means to exasperate, is the 
 same who received the warmest thanks from herself 
 and L'^y B[essborough] on the occasion of her Kensington 
 
 126
 
 1813] LIFE AT EYWOOD 127 
 
 excursion, * one with whose conduct she has repeatedly 
 professed herself perfectly satisfied, and who did not 
 give her up till he was assured that he was not aban- 
 doning a woman to her fate, but restoring her to her 
 family. I have particular reasons for wishing her to 
 be once more warned. If this is not attended to I shall 
 remain passive, and interfere no further between her 
 and her destiny. However disagreeable to myself, the 
 effects, I fear, will be worse for her. She is perfectly 
 at liberty to dispose of her necklaces &c. to " Grimaldi " 
 if she pleases, and to put whatever motto she may desire 
 on her " livery buttons." This last she will understand, 
 but as you probably may not, it is as well to say, that 
 one of her amusements, by her own account, has been 
 engraving on the said " buttons " Ne " Crede Byron," 
 an interesting addition to the motto of my family, 
 which thus atones for its degradation in my acquaint- 
 ance with her. I however do not think it very credit- 
 able to yours to have the above proclaimed to every 
 lacquey who meets her ladyship's couriers in their 
 respectable vocations, and fear that the appearance of 
 the name may lead to errors in the translation of the 
 learned of the livery. This is her own account, and may 
 therefore probably be false, which you will not regret. 
 
 We shall leave this about the 15th. We have had 
 no Sir R*^ anybody here (I can't read the name), but I 
 am glad to hear of C.'s reconciliation with the Bart. 
 His second blunder will not be so lucky as the first, 
 I fear — ^that is their concern. 
 
 Her " real good spirits " I rejoice to hear, notwith- 
 Btanding her eiiorts to spoil mine — her own would have 
 been tolerably dashed very lately had it not been for 
 my interposition. .1 do not mean here, however, for 
 the Enchantress looks upon her with great coolness 
 since her late epistles, and I do not believe thinks of 
 C. as anything formidable. Besides, the contrast is 
 aU in her favour. 
 
 1 When she ran away from Melbourne House and was found and 
 taken home by Lord Byron in August 1812. See Lord Granville 
 Leveson-Oower^s Correspondence, ii. 348.
 
 128 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. m 
 
 We go on without any interruptions or disagreeables 
 — very few guests and no inmates — books, musics, &c., 
 all the amusements without the rigidity of Middleton. 
 I shall be very qualmish at the thoughts of returning to 
 town — it is an accursed abode for people who wish to 
 be quiet. I am not sure that I shall not take a journey 
 into Notts before I proceed to town ; but this depends 
 on circumstances. 
 
 So you dislike the Secretary's definition of " Per- 
 manency."' Pray how does everyone else like it ? Why 
 should I not believe in all sorts of " Innocence " ? 
 Assure yourself, that my creed on that subject is exactly 
 your own. 
 
 " Virtue, my dear L'^'^ Blarney, virtue," &c. &c, ; see 
 the " Vicar of Wakefield." Ever f\ B. 
 
 January 5th, 1813. 
 
 My dear L°^ M., — I wrote you a long letter yester- 
 day respecting C, and as I did not quite explain what 
 may appear to you a little singular, I will just write 
 this much in addition. I have reason to imagine since 
 she has been making this business so public that it 
 will appear perhaps still more publicly if she is not more 
 prudent — which is the more provoking as the least 
 circumspection on her part would prevent people from 
 thinking of it at all. 
 
 You will easily imagine that this would be most 
 disagreeable to me, but how can I prevent it, if she 
 persists in talking on the subject to everyone — writing 
 to Sanders the Painter, &c. &c. ? 
 
 However unpleasant this is to me, it must be more 
 so to the other parties. I believe Lady B. and C. would 
 hardly survive it — it would distress me beyond every- 
 thing, and destroy all done in her favour. Prevail 
 upon her if possible to consider the probable conse- 
 quences of her buffooneries. Ever y""^, B. 
 
 P.S. — Conceive my having heard of it in this wilder- 
 ness. L*^ 0. had a long sermon upon it from his mother 
 and maiden sisters yesterday who are all as old as
 
 1813] A FORGED LETTER 129 
 
 Owen Glendower, and have lived out of the world since 
 Henry 4th' s reign. 
 
 [Eywood], January 9th, 1813. 
 
 Dear L°^ M., — C. by her own confession has forged 
 a letter in my name (the hand she imitates to per- 
 fection), and thus obtained from Mr. Murray in 
 Albemarle Street the picture for which I had restored 
 her own. 
 
 This fact needs no comment from me, but I wish you 
 could re-obtain it for me, otherwise I very much fear 
 an unpleasant exposure will transpire upon the subject. 
 
 She shall have a copy, and aU her own gifts if she will 
 restore it to you for the jDresent. This picture I must 
 have again for several weighty reasons — if not — as she 
 has shown an utter disregard of all consequeiices , I shaU 
 follow her example. I am hurried now, as we are all 
 going out, but will write to-morrow, dear L'^^ M. 
 
 Y" ever, B. 
 
 January 10th, 1813. 
 
 Dear L"^ M., — This morning I heard from town 
 (inclosed a letter from C. to the person in Albemarle 
 Street) that it was in person she seized upon the picture. 
 Why she should herself say that she forged my name, 
 &c. &c. to obtain it I cannot teU, but by her letter of 
 yesterday (which I shaU keep for the present), she 
 expressly avows this in her wild way and Delphine 
 language. 
 
 It is singular that she not only calumniates others, 
 but even herself, for no earthly purpose. 
 
 I wrote to you yesterday in a perilous passion about 
 it, and am still very anxious to recover the picture with 
 which she wiU certainly commit some foolery. 
 
 Murray is in amaze at the whole transaction, and 
 writes in a laughable consternation. 
 
 I presume she got it by flinging his own best bound 
 folios at his head. 
 
 I am sure smce the days of the Dove in the Ark, no 
 animal has had such a time of it as / — no rest anywhere.
 
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 130
 
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 131
 
 132 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 As Dogberry says, " this is flat Burglary " — will you 
 recover my effigy if you can — it is very unfair, after the 
 restoration of her own, to be ravished in this way, 
 
 I wanted to scribble to you a long letter, but I am 
 called away again, for which you will not be sorry — 
 remember C. is responsible for any errata in my letter 
 of yesterday — for I sent you her own statement in 
 fewer words. 
 
 Dear L''^ M., ever y", B. 
 
 January Wth, 1813. 
 
 My dear L°^ M,, — So you cannot understand 
 " everybody " — well — I thought anybody would, but 
 as somebody can't — nobody will be the wiser. And my 
 " Cheltenham speeches " — blessings on your memory ! 
 — what were they ? They were very sincere I will 
 swear, and if not, you have heard, I doubt not, the 
 ancient and approved saying, viz. that " the most 
 artful man is not a match for the most sincere woman " ; 
 now we are just the reverse, and I am used accordingly. 
 I am still in a prodigious pucker about this picture, of 
 which I sent you details yesterday and the day before. 
 
 The worthy C. tells me in her last letter that she has 
 now broken all but the 6th and 9th commandments, 
 and threatens to omit the " not " in them also, unless 
 I submit to her late larceny. 
 
 I have enquired after your Sir R. F., but we know 
 no such person ; she has changed her opinion about 
 L*^^ B. A. for Annabella, but has no idea (at least, 
 expresses none) that my proxy succeeded no better 
 than if I had done it in person, nor who the said proxy 
 was. 
 
 I shall wait your " story about A." till it suits your 
 pleasure. I suppose it is a good one, and will at all 
 events have the advantage of being well told, 
 
 I don't understand you about " what I found fault 
 with at M[iddIeton] I should have wished at E[ywood]." 
 Your ladyship is enigmatical — a perfect Sphinx — 
 and I am not CEdipus. 
 
 It is now snowing perfect avalanches, and when we
 
 1813] MR. MURRAY AND THE FORGED LETTER 133 
 
 shall get away Jove knows. L*^ 0. is in town, and on 
 the 17th we mean to attempt it, with the permission 
 of the skies and roads. 
 
 C. may think what she pleases ; whether I am afraid 
 of her time may show, but L^^^ 0. is not, I am very 
 certain. 
 
 I rejoice to hear you will be in town, but you don't 
 say whether you will patronize me any further. I am 
 sure you have found me the most submissive of slaves. 
 Don't get ill. I see by the papers that poor L*^^ C. 
 Rawdon is dead — a pretty encouragement to faU sick. 
 Bessy will be in black, which does not become her, and 
 wlU add considerably to the dear soul's affliction, if she 
 at all resembles the rest of what ]\Irs. Slipslop terms the 
 " frail sect." 
 
 We are all in tolerable plight. I have been looking 
 over my Kinsham premises, which are close to a church 
 and churchyard fuU of the most facetious epitaphs 
 I ever read, " Adue " (a new orthography taken from 
 one of them). I commend me to your orisons, and 
 ever am, 
 
 Dear L^^ M., Y" most truly, B. 
 
 [London], February 1th, 1813. 
 
 My dear L'^^ M[elbourne], — You perhaps do not 
 know that your amiable charge has at last thought 
 proper to expose herself to Murray. Yesterday, to 
 my utter astonishment, in marches Miss W. (I was 
 present), and says in a tone more audible than requisite, 
 " Mr. M[urray], L'^^ C[aroline] L[amb] desnes you wOl 
 call to-morrow at — God knows where. ' ' The man bowed 
 and promised acquiescence ; he did not know that she 
 was the picture-woman. 
 
 What was I to do ? If I said " DonH go " to a 
 person who knew nothing of her, and who dreamed only 
 of an order for books, &c., he would have thought it 
 very singular that I should forbid the banns between 
 him and his anticipated profits, and inevitably have 
 found out the fact twenty-four hours before the sight 
 of C. confirmed it. The room being full I thought it
 
 134 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 best to say nothing. This morning he saw her, and of 
 course recognized the respectable pilferer. 
 
 She gave him some designs for a certain book, the 
 which I have asked him to return, not only because I 
 have no intention of having drawmgs for the thing, but 
 (though I did not state to him the last reason) because 
 certainly C.'s are the performances of all others I would 
 rather decline. This is the statement of her last scene. 
 What a pity she had no jete nor occupation for this day 
 as well as the three last ! 
 
 I am going out of town for a day, to-morrow. I regret 
 this last blunder, since she has been so quiet and silent 
 since her arrival that I trusted our cares were over. 
 
 I hear also she behaved to admiration last night ; 
 pray Heaven it may be permanent ! 
 
 You were at the Opera to-night — so was I, but the 
 Isthmus (curse the word, I canH spell it f) of two boxes 
 between us was impassable, and prevented our two 
 seas from uniting. 
 
 Ever, d' Lady M., Yours, B. 
 
 February I2th, 1813. 
 
 My dear L°^ Melbourne, — ^I shall be very happy to 
 encounter A[nnabella] in such a manner as to convince 
 her that I feel no pique, nor diminution of the respect 
 I have always felt for her ; the latter is perhaps rather 
 increased than otherwise. I do not know whether I 
 really am above the common prejudices which the 
 animal Man entertains on such occasions, but I trust I 
 am above showing them. 
 
 All I hope is, that whatever my manner may be, 
 she will neither think me cold nor confident. I do not 
 wish to seem piqued at the past, nor as a future 
 aspirant. 
 
 With regard to the P.s,* why the thing is to be secret, 
 I cannot see ; I have never denied it ; if anyone is a 
 sufferer it must be myself, and it is one of those afflic- 
 
 1 Probably an abbreviation of Princess, The Princess of 
 Parallelograms was one of his names for Miss Milbanke.
 
 1813] TALK OF GOING ABROAD 135 
 
 tions which made me smile when Bankes cried, I shall 
 neither poison nor lampoon her, and am very sure that 
 if she does not misunderstand me nor my views, we 
 shall be very good friends, and " live happy ever after " 
 in that state of life to which it may " please God to 
 call us." 
 
 So you have seen IVfrs. C. ; this is excellent. She sent 
 me an Opera ticket, which I returned, being already 
 engaged ; and having paid part of another man's 
 subscription last year, I was the less inclined to add 
 my own for this. I was also invited to her house, 
 for which at present I have no pressing occasion, but 
 I daresay hei friends will find it (and aU its furniture) as 
 convenient as ever, should circumstances render that 
 respectable mansion a pleasant place of conference. 
 I only hope it may never cost anyone more than the 
 segment of a predecessor's Opera ticket. 
 
 I saw you last night, but I was literally jammed in 
 between a cursed card-table and an elbow-chair, so that 
 I could not rise but in the most ungainly of aU possible 
 postures, and you are the last person before whom I 
 would appear more awkward in my devoirs than I 
 naturally am, 
 
 I trust that Mrs. C. and the C. of C's wiU not break, 
 it would be an infinite loss to both ; on my account they 
 certainly shall not. I fear C. will find some further 
 method of exposing herself — I mean in this last affair ; 
 any future one would be too great a blessing forme, and 
 I rather think you will leave the next entirely to herself. 
 
 We have great ideas of going abroad, in which you 
 will heartily concur. I wish I had never left a country 
 with more quiet, and fewer clouds. Everything is so 
 roundabout here — there everything is to be got, or 
 got rid of saiis circumlocution, and much cheaper. 
 
 Ever, my dear L^^ M., Y" most truly, B. 
 
 February I3th, 1813. 
 
 My deab L^'*^ M., — Tell her to show you my letters 
 from Cheltenham ; if you are once mentioned otherwise 
 than with praise I will not only eat my words, but the
 
 136 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [cii. iv 
 
 paper and seal included. My kind epistle was written 
 before I either heard of her jolly or her felony ; the 
 advertisements I have never seen. 
 
 That one so perverted with every wrong feeling should 
 mistake forbearance for fear is to be expected, but if 
 that picture is not restored, and speedily too, the 
 mistake will be unravelled. 
 
 I confess I look upon the thing in a more serious light 
 than you do. I have seen the forged billet, the hand 
 very like ; now what is to prevent her from the same 
 imitation for any less worthy purpose she may choose 
 to adopt ? 
 
 M[urray] does not know her name, nor have I yet 
 informed him of it ; if known, she will have the credit 
 of being the authoress of all the letters anonymous and 
 synonimous [sic] written for the next ten years and the 
 last five. 
 
 For aught I know she may have forged 50 such to 
 herself, and I do not feel very much refreshed by the 
 supposition. I shall not write to her again, but I 
 request once more, as respectfully as I can, that she 
 will restore the picture ; if not — as nothing but a scene 
 will satisfy her — she shall have one performed which will 
 be more edifying than entertaining. 
 
 You know how anxious I have been to preserve quiet ; 
 what I have borne from her ; I have done this, it should 
 seem, in vain, and henceforth, be the consequence 
 what it may to me, to her and hers, I leave no 
 measures to keep with any but yourself. I am sick 
 of the suspense, and one way or the other it shall 
 soon be over. 
 
 My offer to recover the things was in consequence of 
 a foolish, but conciliatory letter of her own — this I now 
 revoke. 
 
 J/^ B[essborough]'s letter is very amusing. I had 
 no idea that L*^^ 0[xford] and suite were of such conse- 
 quence, but how far the assurer was right I cannot say — 
 at least more than I did to «/ow already. The voyage 
 does not depend on me ; that they have such an inten- 
 tion is true ; how it transpired I know not, but " don't
 
 1813] MEETS LADY BESSBOROUGH 137 
 
 know," and " haven't heard," will make a very pretty 
 response from you on being catechised. 
 
 I shall be in town in a few days, and hope to see you 
 there, and the picture. 
 
 Dear L'^^ M., ever y", B. 
 
 February 22nd, 1813. 
 
 Dear IP'^ M, , — I see nothing but the prospect of an 
 endless correspondence in answering L*^^ C.'s letters ; 
 assure her of my good wishes, and let it end. 
 
 Lady B[essborough] was at home this morning, and 
 after mutually promising that neither " would believe 
 one word the other had to say," much civil upbraiding 
 took place. She lectured pleasantly upon " Soothing," 
 complained that I had deceived you and Mrs. L[amb] 
 &c. into a belief that I was a " sober, quiet, Platonic, 
 well-disposed person," added that you was " the best 
 and cleverest of all possible women," which was very 
 lucky, inasmuch if she had said you was y® worst, you 
 would probably have heard it again. 
 
 She was a good deal horrified at my deficiency in 
 Romance, and quite petrified at my behaviour alto- 
 gether, more especially the affair of that never suffi- 
 ciently to be confoimded necklace, which ought not 
 to have been given away a second time (for want of 
 precedent, I presume), and which certainly has been 
 more celebrated than any simUar coUar since the famous 
 one of the " Cardinal de Rohan's." The result of all 
 this is, that I shall restore the brilliant epistles, and get 
 back the baubles, which (God knows) I was most 
 unwilling to receive. 
 
 To U^ C.'s good resolutions I have nothing to say, 
 but my fervent prayer to Asmodeus that they may 
 continue. 
 
 That my opinion upon her character should alter, 
 is neither to be desired nor expected. I will forbear 
 as much as possible, but ... I have already sent her 
 the requested absolutions and remissions ; why must 
 I repeat them ? 
 
 In short I wish to hear no more of the matter ; to
 
 138 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 be on good terms with " you by yourself you,^^ and to 
 remain as quiet as Medea and her Dragons will aUowme. 
 I wish to see you, but do not let me intrude. I fear 
 I did yesterday. To-day I am twenty-five years of 
 age, and yours for as many centuries, dear L*^^ M., 
 &c. &c. B. 
 
 P.S. — L*y B. says you fear a renewal. Now this is 
 impossible, and that you should think so, still more 
 incomprehensible. 
 
 February 25th, 1813. 
 
 My dear L'^'^ M[elbourne], — Her letter is " melan- 
 choly and genilemanlike.'" You know she does not 
 always write like a gentle-woman, and the contents of 
 no great importance. The interview is put off for 
 certain weeks, and I shall not hasten it, however much 
 I may wish to regain my letters and other fooleries. 
 
 The idea of meeting you was a great temptation to 
 L^ Cowper's the other night ; but I resist temptation 
 better than I used to do, which you will be glad to 
 hear. 
 
 I am just from the H[ouse] of C[ommons], where 
 Plunket made the best speech / ever heard, ^ and one 
 Master Tomlin the worst, which I did not hear, having 
 had recourse (after patiently listening to a very 
 commonplace beginning) to supper for a pleasanter 
 conclusion. 
 
 As you are a bitter politician you won't dislike this 
 parliamentary gossip. 
 
 Good night. 
 
 Ever y" most truly, B. 
 
 1 William Conyngham Plunket (1764-1854) entered the Irish 
 Parliament as Member for Charlemont in 1798 and opposed the 
 project of Union. In 1807 he entered the House of Commons as 
 Member for Midhtirst, but resigned two months later. He re-entered 
 Parliament in 1812 as a supporter of Lord Grenville. He succeeded 
 Grattan as foremost champion of Catholic emancipation, and 
 created a great impression by his speeches. In 1827 he was 
 created Baron Plunket. After having been Lord Chancellor of 
 Ireland, he retired into private life in 1841.
 
 1813] IN LONDON 139 
 
 February 28th, 1813. 
 
 My dear L^"^ M[elbouene], — I shall probably leave 
 town in less than a fortnight, and, in all probability, 
 shall not return, but for a day or two before my 
 purposed voyage. To you I may say that I see no 
 good that can result from this eternal conference, and 
 if possible I shall avoid it, I have given up all expecta- 
 tion of the letters, or anything like fair dealing from such 
 a quarter. In my answer it was hinted that a little 
 reflection might probably induce her to give up the 
 idea. If we are to meet only with indifference or 
 hatred (I know no other alternative, at least in our 
 case), why meet at aU ? and then my Lady Bl. with 
 her eternal tremors — she is foolish in this respect. The 
 requested " forgiveness " you and I have both said 
 forty times at least. There is something to forgive, 
 and a little to forget on both sides. I am not very 
 apt at either, but as the remembrance is not very 
 pleasing I shall try to dismiss it, and as for the forgive- 
 ness I am willing to say it as often as she pleases, but 
 I have not the wish, and sincerely hope I may never 
 have the opportunity to put it to the trial, for my 
 feelings are not, I fear, thoroughly English as to the 
 charities, and I should be loath to trust my magna- 
 nimity — the least durable of all mortal qualities. 
 
 " Resist the devil, and he will flee from you," says 
 some pious person, who, if he had known more of the 
 world, would have found out that we can't " resist 
 him," and that the best way is to anticipate his flight 
 by our own, I am not afraid of the charms of the fair 
 Phryne, but I do dread by some word or inadvertence 
 discovering a dislike (to term it gently) which were 
 better concealed — for after all I am no actor. 
 
 Ever yours, dear Lady M,, B, 
 
 P.S. — The opera box is given up, which I do not much 
 regret, and I go out nowhere, so that you and I are not 
 likely to encounter durmg the remnant of my sojourn 
 in town, I shall, however, pay my partmg devoirs 
 at Whitehall, and you wUl now and then write to me
 
 140 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 in the country, and perhaps even to one more distant. 
 If your son has left Sicily any other branch of the 
 family he may have left to flourish there I shall 
 value in proportion to its lawful or unlawful resemblance 
 to yourself, 
 
 March \2th, 1813. 
 
 Deae Lady M., — Will you have the goodness to 
 forward the enclosed ? It contains a request for the 
 picture and a hint at the letters. I wish to make this 
 one more effort, which may succeed. I shall make 
 you blush by asking you if you have read the 'perjuries 
 in the Morning Post with the immaculate deposition of 
 the Lady Douglas. Much good will the publication 
 add to the rising marriageables of this innocent 
 Metropolis, and I doubt not that for the rest of the 
 nineteenth century everybody will be " satisfied with 
 only Sir John." 
 
 It is rather hard however on the poor knight that 
 he should be transmitted down to all posterity as the 
 very type of insufficiency and a byeword of bad evi- 
 dence, " Laud we the gods ! these be truths," as one 
 Shakespeare says. Pray forgive me — or rather the 
 Morning Post and Herald. You are well again — at 
 least I won't suppose you otherwise. 
 
 Ever, dear Lady M., Your obliged servitor, B. 
 
 March \Uh, 1813. 
 
 My dear Lady M., — It has not been weU managed ; 
 she wrote a submissive and denying letter to Lady O,, 
 who at first seemed disposed to agree to the interview, 
 but on further consideration, and having interim heard 
 more of her abuse (which I think you are not unacquain- 
 ted with) she answered shortly and not uncivilly in 
 the negative. 
 
 My wish that Lady 0. should be the third person was 
 to save you a scene, and I confess also — odd as it may 
 seem — that it would have been less awkward for me. 
 You will wonder why, — and I can't tell you more than 
 that she might make some brilliant harangue to which
 
 1813] THE PRINCESS OF WALES 141 
 
 would be a less embarrassed listener than you 
 
 could possibly be. The letter you may read and put 
 in the fire or keep as you please. I did and do not 
 want the picture, but if she will adhere to her present 
 silence, I shall not tempt her into further scribbling. 
 
 You will at least allow I have gained one point. I 
 shall get away without seeing her at all — no bad thing 
 for the original whatever may become of the copy. 
 I have no pretensions to " diplomacy," possessing only 
 one requisite, viz. adhering closely to my instructions. 
 
 You are quite right as usual upon the subject of being 
 governed ; in that respect I consider myself a compe- 
 tent witness. 
 
 It will be very cruel if Sir Sidney turns Regent- 
 evidence after the compliment to his prowess in U^^ D.'s 
 deposition. ^ Poor Sir John seems in a pretty dilemma as 
 the matter now stands ; he is perjured if he publishes 
 such a letter as you describe ; methinks he will resemble 
 one Sir Pandarus of Troy, of convenient memory, ex- 
 cept in betraying his trust. The Smith family must 
 also be uneasy, for if Sir Sidney's head is taken o£E it 
 may be doubted how far the remainder may be useful 
 at home or abroad. So you won't get weU ? — you must 
 — or what is to become of me ? I am very selfish about 
 you. Ever y", d^ L^^ M. , B. 
 
 P.S. — She wrote to 1/ 0. desiring to see her, and I 
 thought it as well to lump the interviews into one, and 
 cut you out as the third, for reasons below mentioned. 
 
 [4, Bennet Street, St. James'] March \5th, 1813. 
 
 My dear L^^ M., — ^I read the note (for letter it 
 was not) in which there was no mention nor allusion 
 to any females of any family whatever. I would not 
 have allowed such an epistle to go ; besides, whatever 
 L'' 0. may have thought, I am certain she entertains no 
 
 ^ In 1813 the Princess of Wales made great efforts to be allowed 
 to associate with her child Princess Charlotte, but her request was 
 not granted. In 1806 Sir John and Lady Douglas deposed that in 
 1802 she had a child by Sir Sidney Smith, but a fonnal conunission 
 of enquiry exonerated her.
 
 142 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 such notions at present. The last sentence in it I 
 erased, because it expressed pity for C, and I wished 
 to spare her that humiliation. This assertion then is 
 a gross and malignant falsehood of your correspondent's 
 to make more mischief. Pray burn my letter ; at 
 any rate do not send it. I now recall my intention 
 of compljdng with her request, and will not meet her. 
 Her depositions really rival J7 D.'s. I am so provoked 
 at this last piece of malice, that I really am not fit to 
 write a line. I will call soon, and hope to find you well. 
 Believe me, if L^ O. entertained or expressed such 
 opinions of you or yours, we should quickly quarrel. I 
 would not hear those who have treated me with for- 
 bearance and kindness traduced even by her, and I 
 certainly like her better than anything on earth. 
 
 Ever y", d' L^ M., B. 
 
 [4, Bennet Street, St. James'] March \8th, 1813. 
 
 My deab L"'*' M., — If I had gone to IVIrs. Hope's, 
 I should have found the only " novelty " that would 
 give me any pleasure, in yourself, and lately, I am 
 sorry to say, you have become quite a rarity ; even more 
 so than the subsidiary viands which you mention, 
 and which are not amiss, in their way, as additions 
 to a supper conversation. But then I should have been 
 checkmated by the L^ Blarney, who ranks next to 
 a breast of veal, an earwig, and her own offspring 
 amongst my antipathies. 
 
 " After all there is a charm in novelty." Is there, 
 indeed ? It is very wicked in you to say so to a person 
 who is so bigoted to the opposite system. 
 
 I believe I leave town next week. In the meantime 
 I am in the agonies of three different schemes. The 
 first you know, the second is Sligo's Persian plan — 
 he wants me to wait till September, set off and winter 
 at Athens (our old headquarters) and then in the Spring 
 to Constantinople (as of old), and Bagdad, and Tahiran. 
 This has its charms, too, and recalls one's predilections 
 for gadding. Then there is Hobhouse, with a Musco- 
 vite and Eastern proposal also ; so that I am worse
 
 1813] PLANS FOR JOURNEY ABROAD 143 
 
 off than ever ass was before, to which bundle of hay 
 I sha.ll address myself. 
 
 However, I am going somewhere, though my 
 agents want me to stay where I am — an additional 
 reason for desiring to get away. 
 
 I am hiring doctors, painters, and two or three stray 
 Greeks, now here, and as tired of England as myself, 
 and I have found a trusty vassal in one of Buonaparte's 
 Mameluke Guard, who will go with Sligo or myself. 
 These I am measuring for uniforms, shoes, and inex- 
 pressibles without number, and quite overwhelmed with 
 preparations of all sorts. As soon as I get me to the 
 country, I shall cherish once more my dear mustachios 
 — with whom I parted in tears — and trust they wUl 
 now have the good manners to grow blacker than they 
 did formerly, and assume the true Ottoman twist, of 
 which your Hussars are deplorably ignorant. 
 
 I now recollect C.'s letter ; let it come if it wiU come, 
 and let her stay, which will be better. 
 
 Ever, dear I/M.,Y",B. 
 
 [4, Bennet Street, St. James'] March 2Qth, 1813. 
 
 My deab L°"^ M[elbouiine], — It becomes you 
 wonderfully to reproach me for fussing about trifles, 
 after the lectures of last summer about things of no 
 great importance. I send you, nevertheless, the 
 precious addition, though I alreadji gave you enough 
 to make a peruque — and now pray let me lay hands 
 upon the picture immediately. It is too bad in C. to 
 raise up the ghosts of my departed vows against me. 
 She made me sign I know not what, or how, many 
 bonds, and now, like a Jew, she exacts usurious interest 
 for an illegal transaction. 
 
 Pray promise anythmg, and I wUl promise you 
 everything— copies, originals, what you please — but 
 let me have the picture forthwith. 
 
 I leave town on Sunday, I believe^ and shaU not write 
 to her again without some further epistle arrives 
 
 ^ For Ejrwood.
 
 144 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 requiring response. As I can't go to Lady Spencer's, 
 would you make some decent excuse there for me ? 
 But that would not be proper, now I think of it ; and 
 yet she is one of very few people from whom I don't 
 like to exclude myself altogether. I must say I am 
 iU. I shall call to-morrow or Saturday, to take a 
 temporary leave of you. I must return to town on 
 business, perhaps very soon. 
 
 I certainly am indebted to C. for the continuance of 
 your countenance, and this cancels all her libels and 
 larcenies, and makes me even hear L^^^ B[essborough]'s 
 name without being very sick, besides making me admire 
 Mrs. G[eorge] L[amb], and all the rest of the family. 
 
 Every^ dear L"^y M., B. 
 
 [Eywood, Pbesteiqn] April 5th, 1813. 
 
 My deab L°^ M[elboijbne], — If in town at all I 
 shall only remain a few days, and it will not be in my 
 power to see L^^ C[aroline]. She has fairly worn out 
 my wish to please or displease her. If she sends you 
 the picture, keep it ; but for the love of quiet let me 
 hear no more of or from her. I shall not open any letter 
 from her in future ; therefore do not send me the 
 Sunday's dispatch, or any future packet, unless from 
 yourself. The charm of the ring exists only in her 
 own malignant imagination — every ring was English. 
 I recollect something of a Comboloio, or Turkish rosary 
 of amber beads, which I gave to her, to which she 
 attached some absurd mystery, but the rings (among 
 others a wedding one which she bestowed upon herself, 
 and insisted on my placing it on her finger) were all 
 the manufacture of a Bond Street artist, who certainly 
 was no conjuror. 
 
 I cannot break my promise. Pray say at once, and 
 once for all, that I have nothing more to say, to see, or 
 to do on the subject, and nothing but a wish to make 
 her act right in giving up what she ought not to 
 retain, would have induced me to submit so long to the 
 fragments of her yoke, and hear the clanking of the 
 last links of a chain for ever broken.
 
 1813] HATRED OF LADY CAROLINE 145 
 
 I have much to do and little time to do it in ; cer- 
 tainly not an instant to spare to a person for whom the 
 iron (to use her own metaphor) retains all the heat, 
 but none of the flexibility. I give up pictures, letters, 
 &c., to her tender mercies ; let that satisfy her. The 
 detestation, the utter abhorrence I feel at part of her 
 conduct I will neither shock you with, nor trust myseK 
 to express. That feeling has become a part of my 
 nature ; it has poisoned my future existence. I know 
 not whom I may love, but to the latest hour of my 
 life I shall hate that woman. Now you know my 
 sentunents ; they will be the same on my death- 
 bed. To her I do not express this, because I have 
 no desire to make her uncomfortable ; but such is 
 the state of my mind towards her, for reasons I shall 
 not recur to, and beg to be spared from meeting 
 her until we may be chained together in Dante's 
 Inferno. 
 
 The date ring you shall have if you like it, the others 
 have been transferred to Charlotte Harley,^ whom I 
 should love for ever if she could always be only eleven 
 years old, and whom I shall probably marry when she 
 is old enough, and bad enough to be made into a modern 
 wife. 
 
 We have had very few fine days, and these I have 
 passed on the water and in the woods, scrambling and 
 splashing about with the children, or by myself. I 
 always feel happier here or at Newstead than else- 
 where, and all my plagues are at least 150 miles off, 
 a distance, unfortunately, not quite sufficient to exempt 
 me from their persecution. 
 
 But I am writing to you at greater length than I 
 ought for your pleasure. I shall endeavour to get a 
 glimpse of you before I go, but for C. you have my 
 ultimatum. 
 
 The thing you mention reminds me of the Nun 
 {J/^ Heathcote told me last year I ran away with) and 
 
 1 Lady Charlotte Harley, a daughter of Lady Oxford, tha 
 " lanthe " of Childe Harold.
 
 146 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 a Mr. Lander's ^ tragedy, the reputation of which I was 
 obliged to bear this winter. 
 
 " And then for mine obligingly mistakes 
 The first lampoon Sir Will or Bubo [makes ;]" 
 
 SO said the poet, whom I resemble in nothing but the 
 destiny expressed in the above couplet. 
 
 Could I have kept such a secret from you ? or any 
 secret ? I suppose there is somebody I like abused 
 in it, that I am charged with the authorship — and 
 then the character you send is such an inducement to 
 wear his bays. I presume it is anony[mous]. 
 
 [Remainder torn off.] 
 
 April 1th, 1813. 
 
 My dear L'^^ M[elbour?te], — "You have gotten y® 
 picture ! ! " Now, do not on any account allow it to 
 be taken out of your hands, where it will remain, very 
 much to the refreshment of the original. Copies, 
 &c., I leave to your discretion. 
 
 The double hair amuses you — she will never discover 
 the difference, and of course you cannot know it, or 
 tell it. It was a lucky coincidence of colour and shape 
 for my purpose, and may never happen again, and surely 
 it is a very innocent revenge for some very scurvy 
 behaviour. It grieves me, however, that 1/ Blarney 
 wiU never be able to lift up her eyes and hands on y® 
 occasion as heretofore ; it is worthy of her own school, 
 in which, had I been earlier initiated, I should have 
 been an adept. I believe you are right about C. and the 
 " Giaour," but Mrs. L[amb] astonishes me. '' Pale,^' — 
 what has that to do with it ? it is merely the dis- 
 tinction of all Europeans — comparatively speaking — 
 from an Asiatic. It is rather hard upon me, that all 
 my poetical personages must be identified with the 
 
 ^ Robert Eyres Landor, younger brother of Walter Savage 
 Landor. He was author of a tragedy, Count Arezzi, which was sup- 
 posed to have been written by Byron. He died in 1869.
 
 1813] REWARD FOR PEEPING 147 
 
 writer, and just as fair as if Dr. Moore ' must be 
 Zeluco, or Milton (begging pardon for mentioning 
 such men in the same sentence with myself) the 
 Devil. 
 
 I have received her letter, and but for a circum- 
 stance not worth relating, should have returned it. 
 After a good deal of flattery, and something of abuse, 
 she concludes by terming me "the greatest villain 
 that ever existed." My opinion of her I expressed in 
 my last, and the effect of her conduct upon my feelings. 
 This I cannot revoke, but wiU not repeat. 
 
 The Duchess of M ! ! By the blessing of Diana, 
 all our footmen and gardeners are frightful. I 
 write with m'amie very near me ; if she looks over 
 my shoulder, the foregoing paragraph wiU be a 
 proper reward for peeping, and I scribble it on 
 purpose. 
 
 I still adhere to my resolution of not conferring with 
 your ''''Scorpion,'''' but do not let this induce you to 
 part with my property. I am by no means sure that 
 I shall be in town at aU, but if so, incog, to embrace 
 you and L''^ Holland before my voyage. Your letters 
 are delightful, particularly the parts not about Caroline, 
 but Carolus. I wish he had exchanged heads with your 
 Regent Log with all my heart, or that they were 
 stitched together; what an admirable Janus of a fool 
 and a knave, I take C[harles the First] to be the 
 greatest king (that is, villain) that ever lived. Our 
 family got a peerage, and lost everything else for the 
 Stuarts, and my mother was their lineal descendant 
 (from James 2nd of Scotland'' s daughter), aU the bad 
 blood in my own composition I derive from those 
 bastards of Banquo. 
 
 Believe me, dear U M., Ever y^^ most truly, B, 
 
 P.S. — On the other side see some mild verses. 
 
 1 Dr. John Moore (1729-1802), physician and man of letters. 
 He travelled with the 8th Duke of Hamilton between 1772-8. 
 Published Zeluco. In 1795 Moore published an account of the 
 French Revolution. 
 I— 11
 
 148 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 To THE DiSCOTERkR OF THE BODIES OF ChARLES I. AND HeNEY VIII. 
 
 Famed for their civil and domestic quarrels, 
 See heartless Henry lies by a headless Charles: 
 Between them stands another sceptred thing. 
 It lives — it reigns, " ay, every inch a king ? " 
 Charles to his people — Henry to his wife, 
 The double tyrant starts at once to life. 
 Justice and Death have mixed their dust in vain. 
 Each royal vampire quits his vault again. 
 Curst be tlie tomb that could so soon disgorge 
 Two such, to make a Janus or a George ! " 
 
 Will you give L** Holland — or anybody you like, 
 or dislike — a copy of this ; but I suppose you will be 
 tender or afraid : you need not mind any harm it will 
 do me. 
 
 [Eywood] April I9th, 1813. 
 
 My dear Lady M., — I rejoice to hear, for the fiftieth 
 time, of C.'s reformation, and am inclined to think it 
 permanent, from the silence in that quarter, whence 
 I have not been disturbed for the last fortnight. In 
 a few weeks I shall be beyond her correspondence, and 
 in the meantime, shall take care not to renew it. 
 
 I leave this place in a day or two for London, where 
 I shall remain in obscurity for a week or two. 
 
 We are at present in a slight perplexity, owing to 
 an event which certainly did not enter into my calcula- 
 tions ; what it is, I leave to your own ingenious imagina- 
 tion, which wiU not let one off for a little, I am sure. 
 
 I am not quite certain that I shall embark in the 
 Bame ship, but I shall saU nearly at the same time, and 
 join them — unless the vicinity of Greece should be too 
 tempting for so vagrant a personage. 
 
 The approbation of your Duchess is very obligmg ! 
 If she really wants your copy, I wUl give you another 
 with pleasure. 
 
 As to C, I do not know to what she alludes ; the 
 thing in question, the "Giaour," was written some tune 
 ago, and printed when you had it. Lately I have had
 
 1813] THE "GIAOUR" 149 
 
 neither time nor inclination to scribble, far less to 
 publish. 
 
 I asked 1/ 0. if she had seen your satire, and she tells 
 me she has neither seen nor heard of it. I wonder 
 that any of those young ladies you mention should be 
 attacked, and stiU more that I should be presumed the 
 assailant ; the mention of any of their names might 
 preserve me from the charge. If C. gets hold of the 
 ' ' Giaour " she will bring it in "Wilful murder " against 
 the author ; and if she discovers that the hair was that 
 of her "dearest Aspasia," I question whether Medusa's 
 would not be more agreeable. I have a long arrear of 
 mischief to be even with that amiable daughter of 
 1/ B[essborough]'s, and in the long run I shall pay it 
 off, by instalments. I consider this as payment the 
 first for the bonfire, a debt too heavy to discharge all 
 at once. After aU, if from this hour I were never to 
 hear her name mentioned, at least from herseK, I should 
 be too happy to let her off with all her laurels, but if 
 she recommences hostilities, I have no protection against 
 her madness but my own foolery — and I shaU avail 
 myself of my cap and beUs accordingly. 
 
 How is the L^ Blarney ? If that sagacious person 
 knew how matters stand just at present, I think her 
 alarms would be at rest for ever. If ever I were again 
 smitten in that family it would be with herself, and not 
 C. ; but hatred is a much more delightful passion, and 
 never cloys ; it will make us all happy for the rest of 
 our lives. 
 
 Believe me, dear L^ M., Ever yours, B. 
 
 April 22nd, 1813. 
 
 My dear Lady M[elbouene], — I thought the silence 
 would not last ; it has been broken, and in an epistle 
 somewhat longer than a maiden speech or a matron's 
 letter ought to be. However, the tone is less harsh, 
 and consequently it grieves me "who pleads so well, 
 should ever plead m vain." It is the particular 
 request of "several persons of distinction," that this 
 plaguy conference should not take place, and just at
 
 150 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 present it is highly expedient that their wishes should 
 meet a ready compliance, and my inclination being, 
 luckily, on the same side, I am glad to have the excuse 
 for following it. A "bird in hand is worth two in a 
 bush," says the approved saw ; if so, two birds in 
 hand are probably worth more than any given bird in 
 a bush, particularly if the said bird has been in hand 
 already, and has pecked one's fingers into the bargain. 
 
 I am directed by C. to send my answer to you ; 
 pray fight off this interview for me if you can, as I am 
 pledged to avoid it ; and surely you all agree with me 
 how much better it is to allow me to depart in peace. 
 C. is coming to town. I am glad of it, as far as 
 regards myself ; she will immediately take a new turn, 
 and I think there is no chance of our encountering 
 during my stay there. She tells me they want ninety 
 guineas for copying the picture ; the original cost but 
 seventy-five, and that was fifty too much. It is rather 
 hard that you must pay for her pilferings nevertheless. 
 
 On Sunday I expect to be in London, but as privately 
 and quietly as I can. I have a good deal of business 
 to get through during the ensuing fortnight. The 
 rest of our family ^ go to Cheltenham till the vessel is 
 ready ; mine will be a separate embarkation. 
 
 I see no use in answering her letter. Having lately 
 lived with common-sensible people, these heroics are too 
 Devonshire for me. Besides, I am very busy educating 
 my future wife, and look upon the epistle of another's 
 spouse with a prophetic twinge that makes me feel like 
 Moody in the " Country Girl." I leave you to deal 
 with C. — or double deal with her ; she has no right to 
 anything like candour from anyone, and from me the 
 most she can desire, and more than she deserves, is — 
 silence. 
 
 Believe me, dear L'^^ M., Ever y", B. 
 
 [London] April — Mmj 2nd, 1813. 
 
 My deab L"^ M.,— The illness of Mr. Hobhouse's 
 stepmother has spoiled our party. 
 
 ^ Lord and Lady Oxford.
 
 1813] PRINCE KOZLOVSKY 151 
 
 Your invitation is tempting in various ways : — 
 firstly, I never yet dined at M[elbourne] House — there 
 is novelty ; secondly, I never expected that Lord M. 
 at all events would be my inviter — there is surprise ; 
 thirdly, the pleasure of meeting you, which is neither 
 novel, nor surprising, but something better than both ; 
 and fourthly, I am rather hungry, having lived on tea 
 and bread and butter ever since I left E[ywoo]d 
 (where I was under the necessity of conforming to a 
 less eremitical regimen), and should do justice to your 
 viands. Yet I must resist all these, though I can't 
 very well say why, unless it be that I am in a very 
 solitary mood, and quite unfit for so much good 
 company. Will you therefore make my most humble 
 apologies to your lord and master ? — I won't say, 
 excuse me, to you — for you will do that very readily. 
 
 L*^^ [Oxford ?] at last thinks it as well to allow the 
 conference, for fear, I believe, of being dragged herself 
 into some scene, and put in peril by the scissors, or 
 bodkin of the enemy. 
 
 And here hath been, in the city of London, a female 
 cousin of mine going for her health (and a husband,which 
 is the same thing) to the Bermudas — wanting to have 
 last words with all her relatives, and me amongst the 
 number, which I have declmed. It is very odd the 
 fuss the people make about partmgs ; when I went 
 abroad last time it was without any of these things, 
 which are much better avoided if they like one another, 
 and if they do not, what purpose can they answer ? 
 
 Your friend Kolfkovsky ^ was with me yesterday, 
 complaining of the English husbands and the restric- 
 tions upon their wives, with whom he appears to have 
 made little progress, but lays it all upon the husbands. 
 I was obliged to comfort him with an assurance that the 
 fault was all his own, and that husbands and wives are 
 much the same here as elsewhere ; it was impossible 
 to hear them so traduced with patience. Talking 
 
 1 Prince Kozlovsky, Russian Minister at Turin, and afterwards 
 resided in Rome. See Letters and Journals, in. 23.
 
 152 LETTER TO LADY CAROLINE LAMB [ch. iv 
 
 of pcatience, puts me in mind of the thing you asked for, 
 which I send, but remember you asked me for it this 
 time, and don't accuse me of inflicting my rime upon 
 you without compassion. 
 
 Believe me, y" most truly, B. 
 
 Byron to Lady Caroline Lamb 
 
 4, Bennet St., April 2Qth, 1813. 
 
 If you still persist in your intention of meeting me 
 in opposition to the wishes of your own friends and of 
 mine, it must even be so. I regret it and acquiesce 
 with reluctance. I am not ignorant of the very extra- 
 ordinary language you have held not only to me but 
 others, and your avowal of your determination to 
 obtain what you are pleased to call " revenge " ; nor 
 have I now to learn that an incensed woman is a dan- 
 gerous enemy. 
 
 Undoubtedly, those against whom we can make no 
 defence, whatever they say or do, must be formidable. 
 Your words and actions have lately been tolerably 
 portentous, and might justify me in avoiding the 
 demanded interview, more especially as I believe you 
 to be fully capable of performing all your menaces, 
 but as I once hazarded everything for you, I will 
 not slirink from you. Perhaps I deserve punishment, 
 if so, you are quite as proper a person to inflict it as 
 any other. You say you will " ruin me." I thank you, 
 but I have done that for myself already ; you say you 
 will " destroy me," perhaps you will only save me the 
 trouble. It is useless to reason with you — to repeat 
 what you already know, that I have in reality 
 saved you from utter and impending destruction. 
 Everyone who knows you knows this also, but they do 
 not know — as yet — what you may and I will teU them 
 as I now tell you, that it is in a great measure owmg 
 to this persecution ; to the accursed things you have 
 said ; to the extravagances you have committed, that 
 I again adopt the resolution of quittmg this country.
 
 1813] LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE 153 
 
 In your assertions you have either belied or betrayed 
 me — take your choice ; in your actions you have hurt 
 only youi'self — but is that nothing to one who wished 
 you well ? I have only one request to make, which is, 
 not to attempt to see Lady 0. : on her you have no 
 claim. You will settle as you please the arrangement 
 of this conference. I do not leave England tUl June, 
 but the sooner it is over the better. I once wished, 
 for your own sake, Lady M. to be present — but if you 
 are to fulfil any of your threats in word or deed we had 
 better be alone. 
 
 Yours, B. 
 
 On cover. 
 
 Dear Lady M., — Will you read, wafer or seal and 
 send the inclosed answer to an epistle of your Agnus, 
 in which she menaces me with her " ghost " — which I 
 long to see ; if she is but half as fractious there (where 
 you please) as here, they will be glad to remit her to 
 this world. 
 
 Ever y", B. 
 
 May 2nd, 1813. 
 
 May 1th, 1813. 
 
 My dear L°^ M., — I passed your house with y® 
 intention of calling, but seeing a carriage, I would 
 not disturb you, and possibly drive away some of 
 your near and dear relations, as generally happens 
 upon my intrusion. 
 
 It is impossible for me to guess " the long story " 
 about the picture, but it is doubtless some new foolery 
 of C.'s ; you need not take y® trouble to tell it, let her 
 amuse herself. I wished to have had it again, because 
 another paramount personage has taken a fancy to 
 have that picture at aU events, but I meant the one 
 now in their possession for you — indeed, it is the best 
 of the two, for it was done some years before. As to 
 C. , she is so far out of the question, that I would rather 
 throw it into the fire, and the original after, than leave 
 it in her possession, if it could be avoided.
 
 164 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 I MUST see you at Sir Joshua's,^ though I don't much 
 like venturing on the sight of seventeen ; it is bad 
 enough now, and must have been worse then. The 
 painter was not so much to blame as you seem to ima- 
 gine by adding a few years ; he foresaw you would lose 
 nothing by them. 
 
 On Wednesday I leave town — it is exactly the same 
 to me morning or evening ; the less light the better, 
 either for quarrels or reconciliations. But I once more 
 enter my protest against C.'s meeting me at all ; it 
 will end in some ludicrous scene. You must be 
 present ; it will make you laugh, which will be some 
 consolation. 
 
 I am asked to L''^ Spencer's to-night, but have doubts 
 about going, for I have an invitation to a city or rather 
 citizen's ball, where I wish to see the young people 
 unmuzzled ; and as Hobhouse is going, who is a cynic 
 after my own heart, I shall be regaled with his observa- 
 tions, which may be safely made, as we are both mere 
 spectators. I can't dance, and he won't. 
 
 I shall contrive to be at Lr^ S[pencer]'s first if possible, 
 solely and entirely to see you, and not to hear about 
 C. if you can help it. I am sure it is a sickening subject 
 to both. 
 
 Ever, d' L^ M^ Y", B. 
 
 May Qth, 1813. 
 
 My deae L^^ ]\P,— At nine be it then, but I still 
 retain my opinion, and act entirely on the judgment 
 of others. 
 
 I have been so often the dupe of everyone with whom 
 I ever was connected, and have so little reason to credit 
 the assertions of L^ C, that I hear of her indisposition 
 with some degree of scepticism. If she really is unwell, 
 all that I/^ C. has done to destroy my regard will 
 
 ^ A portrait of Lady Melbourne by Sir Joshua Reynolds when she 
 was in her eighteenth year. The picture represents Lady Melbourne 
 holding in her arms her eldest son, Peniston Lamb.
 
 VISCOUNTESS MELBOURNE 
 
 AND HER ELDEST SOX PENISTOX LAMB 
 
 After the picture by Sir Joshua Rej'nolds, P.K.A.
 
 1813] ILLNESS OF LADY OXFORD 155 
 
 not prevent my feeling much regret, and sincerely 
 wishing her recovery. 
 
 Believe me, my dear L^ M., B. 
 
 May Utk, 1813. 
 
 My dear L"^^ M., — Say what you please in answer 
 to the letter addressed to us — it is all very well. 
 
 I am in some anxiety in consequence of a letter from 
 C[heltenha]m this morning ; she^ has burst a small 
 blood-vessel, and is weak and ill ; all which she 
 attributes to " me and my friends in town ! ! " I pre- 
 sume it will end in an indisposition, which, however 
 unpleasant for a time, would eventually be a great 
 relief to both. 
 
 It is very odd that all the women of my acquaint- 
 ance abuse R[oge]rs ; C.'s letter is full of it, and L^ 
 [Oxford]' s fuller. 
 
 Her malady is perhaps a " ruse," but at all events, 
 it will probably take me from town next week, very 
 much to the detriment of my temporal and spiritual 
 concerns, 
 
 I shan't have spirits to teU you my stories this even, 
 unless seeing you restores them ; your conversation is 
 really ckmyipagne to them. 
 
 C.'s platonic speculations are all nonsense ; we began 
 in that way before, and they ended in — all this uproar. 
 
 I can't help being amused at " your permission to 
 see me on my return. ' ' I suppose you trust in the plague, 
 or a tempest, or 1/ 0[xford] to sweep me from the 
 earth before that occurs. 
 
 Ever, d' 1/ ]M^ Y'\ B. 
 
 May 2lst, 1813. 
 
 Deab L^ M",— I shall be with you at L^ C.'s (to 
 whom I request you will present my inexcusable 
 excuses) before seven, that we may form a compact 
 body for y^ expedition. 
 
 1 Lady Oxford.
 
 156 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 I have unfortunately dined for the week yesterday, 
 and if Kovlovsky would follow my example in that 
 respect, we should be less squeezed in our respective 
 positions this evening. 
 
 Ever y'\ B. 
 
 May 24:th, 1813. 
 
 My dear L^ IVr,— I had a card for y« L^ S*^'' this 
 evening, but I was engaged in taking leave of Mr. 
 Hobhouse, who quits us for y® Continent to-morrow, 
 and whom it is not very probable I shall see again ; 
 he is y® oldest, indeed y^ only friend I have, and my 
 regrets are equally social and selfish, for if I had attended 
 to his advice, I should have been anything but what 
 I am — and in parting with him, I lose " a guide, 
 philosopher and friend " I neither can nor wish to 
 replace. 
 
 Now for our everlasting theme I think 
 
 terror must be y® order of y® day — suspicion on your part 
 will maintain discipline, and believe me it will not be 
 misplaced. You know my situation. I have no excuse 
 which would be offered in a court of law or even of 
 honour. But if a woman will force her way in defiance 
 of everything, even against y° remonstrance and 
 request of her fool, the said fool has no chance but 
 running away, which at present does not happen to suit 
 the springs of her puppet. I am not y® dupe of her 
 pretended passion. I see it is totally selfish — she is a 
 right woman, with all the courage to dare, but not to 
 suffer — the hardihood of guilt united to the fear of 
 shame, the passions of an Oriental without her spirit, in 
 short, the oddest antithesis of pipe- and common-clay 
 that ever was compounded since the first husband 
 betook himself to stealing apples, and begetting heirs to 
 his own vexations in this world and (I hope for his 
 pains and the truth of y® Pentateuch) his utter d — mna- 
 tion in y® next. 
 
 My own situation at this moment is such that 
 without a boast I may say, that perhaps the present 
 suspense would be alleviated by the worst 'positive
 
 1813 FINANCIAL EI^IBARRASSMENTS 157 
 
 event that could happen. I am utterly rumed in 
 fortune, and not very brilliant in reputation, sans plan, 
 or prospect of any kind, but of getting out of y® country, 
 with nothing to ho}:)e, but (by the peculiar patronage of 
 Beelzebub) with little to fear. 
 
 " My greatest comfort is, that now, 
 My Dubbolt fortune is so low. 
 That either it must quickly end — 
 Or tvirn about again and mend." 
 
 You will pardon a quotation from Hudibras, 
 If she is at all in her senses, she will now pause, 
 if not neither the patience of Job nor the wisdom 
 of Solomon (neither very remarkable by y® bye), 
 could bear or accomplish more than you have long 
 ago done, for y® salvation of a thing not more worth 
 saving. 
 
 Ever, d' 1/ M., y", B. 
 
 P.S. — All my epistles to y® C. must go for nothing, 
 you know there is but one way in which a man can 
 write to ladies afflicted with these phantasies, and to 
 her above all others. I must say, yes, yes, yes (like a 
 crier in a country town), to keep her quiet, and to 
 prove to L^ B. how admiraUy her "soothing " system 
 succeeds. Silence C. for "three days," and I am 
 dumb for ever. 
 
 [London] May 2Qth, 1813. 
 
 My deab L^ M^ — By the " worst possible " I doubt- 
 less meant the event which, for aught I know, may be 
 very probable ; as to her remaining with me, that 
 were out of the question. I would not stu* a furlong, 
 but patiently wait the wrath of the Blarneys — whom I 
 unfortunately detest too cordially to give them a chance 
 of putting me out of my then misery, without doing my 
 best to obtain a fellow-passenger in Charon's hoy. I 
 only expressed the fact that the difficulties in which 
 I am steeped are such as to render any step of hers, or 
 any other female, or male, a matter next to indifference ; 
 believe me the idea of our living together never entered
 
 158 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 into my calculation for a moment, I have no attach- 
 ment withui these two thousand miles ; but I feel some 
 old ones reviving, and I hope I shall yet pray for your 
 prosperity, with my face towards Mecca. 
 
 In the meantime 17 0[xford] arrives in town to- 
 morrow, which I regret — ^when people have once fairly 
 parted. How do I abhor these partings ! I know 
 them to be of no use, and yet as paiuful at the time as 
 the first plunge into purgatory. 
 
 All you can say upon Law is Gospel, but I am 'perdu 
 — I don't know what you call temporary — Law is 
 eternal. I shall soon, I trust, be where there is none, 
 and where even the wreck of my shattered fortunes will 
 be affluence. 
 
 I now heartily rejoice in the escape of your niece. * 
 At the time I could not foresee this any more than I 
 could imagine that the means I adopted to extricate 
 myself would have plunged me into that same morass 
 — to prolong your metaphor — in which I am now chin- 
 deep. I trust you will believe that I did not wish to 
 put the lady's philosophy to such a proof. I did not 
 think her wrong then — stUl less now. 
 
 I believe I shall sell Rochdale — for y® sake of another 
 lawsuit, and at a certain loss ; it would quite disappoint 
 me to meet with anything like profit, and as to pleasure, 
 that was all over with me before I was eighteen. 
 
 I shall be very sorry not to go as soon as you wish, 
 but I assure you, never did Prudery long more for a 
 lover, than I to be out of a country in which I certainly 
 was not born with my own consent. If, therefore, 
 I am here a month beyond your hopes — and an age 
 beyond my own — ^pardon me. 
 
 Ever yrs., B. 
 
 P.S. — C. tells you I said, &c. &c. &c. ! To be sure 
 I did — and will say as much more, and as much more to 
 that, to any woman whatever who puts the same 
 questions — who would dare to say No within arm's 
 length. 
 
 ^ Annabella Milbanke.
 
 1813] LADY OXFORD 159 
 
 June 8th, 1813. 
 
 Deae, L^ M., — On my arrival in town about half 
 an hour ago (which I leave again to-morrow), I found 
 your letter. I was determined not to plague you 
 without. * 
 
 1/ 0[xford] has been in town, and we left it on Thurs- 
 day for SalthOl, where she now is, on her way to 
 Portsmouth. 
 
 / expect to get away some time next month. C. 
 has been quiet to a degree of aivful calmness, which was 
 fortunate, for God knows what I should have done, 
 had she acted otherwise. She does not know that I 
 am in town, but was equally decorous ever since the 
 arrival of 1/ 0[xford] ; a very lucky accident. In 
 that quarter we go on as usual. I do not know when 
 she sails. I shall be with them till they embark ; he 
 is, I believe, with the ship, or in the sea. I saw him but 
 once in town, and then it was to dispute about a stupid 
 blunder on the subject of KLnsham, and other farming 
 concerns. 
 
 1/ 0[xford] agrees with you perfectly that there must 
 be no more interviews, but we have such a turbulent 
 minority to deal with, that you must allow me to set 
 off quietly, and even without weeping over you ; 
 for which I had prepared several pocket-handkerchiefs. 
 
 I shall now be but little in London, as I must see my 
 sister, etc., and it is not impossible I may embark 
 finally without taking leave of you ; if so I leave every- 
 thing about pictures and all such frivolities, to the entire 
 disposal of C, whom I pray heartily I may not see 
 before my departure — nor after. If you wish to say 
 anything, you would have me do, or not do, a line 
 before 3 to-morrow will reach me here. 
 
 I am in the most robust health, have been eating 
 and drinking, and fatten upon Ul fortune. 
 
 Ever yrs., my dear L^' M^, B. 
 
 P.S. — I have just this moment had letters from the 
 
 ^ To and fro from Salthill, where Byron went to meet Lady 
 Oxford.
 
 ICO LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 Levant, where everything is gomg on in the old way, 
 and well enough. 
 
 June 2\st, 1813. 
 
 My dear L^ M.. — The DevU, who ought to be civil 
 on such occasions, has at last persuaded L*^ [Oxford] 
 to be so too ; for on her threatening to fill up my 
 "carte blanche" in her own way, he quietly ate 
 his own words and intentions, and now they are to 
 "live happy ever after" and to saU in the pleasing 
 hope of seeing or not seeing me again ; so that the very 
 letter in which I most committed myself to her, has by 
 good fortune turned out the most successful of peremp- 
 tory papers. 
 
 But on the other hand, your plague and mine has, 
 accordmg to her own account, been in "excellent 
 fooling." Mr. L[amb], on his return, found her in tears, 
 and was (no wonder) wroth to a degree, and wanted to 
 know if I (the most inoffensive of men) had affronted 
 her, &c. Now this is really laughable ; if I speak 
 to her he is insulted ; if I don't speak to her, she is 
 insulted. Now if he is to be equally offended at both, 
 I shall not be long in choosing. I had much rather 
 differ about something than nothing. 
 
 All this I only know from her, and probably it is not 
 true. I, however, must say that it is not to be expected 
 that I shall throw myself in or out of the way of either ; 
 let them amuse themselves in their own way. I may 
 shut myself out of society for my own pleasure, but 
 I will not be put out of it by any couple in Christendom. 
 
 With regard to the miseries of this '"''correct and 
 animated waltzer," as the M. Post entitles her, I wish 
 she would not call in the aid of so many compassionate 
 countesses. There is L^ W[estmoreland] (with a tongue 
 too) conceives me to be the greatest barbarian since 
 the days of Bacchus and Ariadne ; and all who hate 
 L^ 0[xford] — consisting of one half the world, and all 
 who abominate me — that is, the other half, — will tear 
 the last rag of my tattered reputation into shreds, 
 threads, filaments, and atoms.
 
 1813] PROPOSES TO LEAVE ENGLAND 161 
 
 Where is my ticket ? that I may personify L*^ 
 M[elbourne], a gentleman whom I should like to have 
 represented for the last — let me see, how many years 
 has he been your proprietor ? 
 
 Why won't you go off with me ? I am sure our 
 elopement would have greater effect — cause a "greater 
 sensation," as our orators say — than any event of the 
 kind, since Eve ran away with the apple. Believe me, 
 
 Ever y'^ most truly, B. 
 
 June 20th, 1813. 
 
 Dear L'^ M., — I am just returned from L** Eardley's,* 
 where, seeing nobody, I came away without entering, 
 which is quite as well, if C. and her mamma are there. 
 I never look upon the latter without an idea of harts- 
 horn. My lackey, I believe, announced me, which is 
 awkward ; but no matter, here I am safe and solitary. 
 
 J7 [Oxford] saUed yesterday, and now, my dear 1/ 
 M®, without pretending to affect or effect, wUl you not 
 mention her name to me for the remainder of my weeks 
 in England ? To teU you the truth, I feel more 
 Carolinish about her than I expected. They went at 
 last so suddenly, the very day I was to have met her 
 on the coast — all the fault of my sister's arrival. The 
 last letter was written on board the diabolical ship. 
 
 I am doing all I can to be ready to go with your 
 Russian. Depend upon it, I shall be either out of the 
 country or nothing, very soon. All I like is now 
 gone, and all I abhor (with some few exceptions) 
 remains, viz. the R[egent], his government, and most 
 of his subjects. What a fool I was to come back ! 
 I shall be wiser next time, unless there is a prospect of 
 alteration in the whole system. 
 
 I shall see you somewhere soon, I trust ; and in the 
 meantime, if you could convince L^ B[essborough] 
 that, whatever may happen, neither love of her nor 
 hers will have anything to do with it, you will set the 
 poor soul at ease. 
 
 Ever y'\ B. 
 
 ^ Baron Eardley of Spalding, b. 1748, created Baron 1789.
 
 1€S LZrrZ?^ TO lady VTT-RriT-R\-T: [cH. rr 
 
 Jmw IM, 1813. 
 
 Mr VSAB. L- iL, — I will eodeaToiir to be pEedse. as 
 if I ipere to meet a move lebast feieiid or an eoeaj. 
 
 At last (at a pietty time, yen ^dll say) I dedared to 
 C my real sentimaitB about 1/ [Oz&xrd], aod I think 
 tbey had a good ^eet. Do you know I am eonsta""cy 
 in the abstract, and am mn^ moie faitfafol to people 
 on tiie "hi^ seas" t^~ if they wcxe on shore — ^I 
 Bo^poee from nv zj.- ~r of contzadictacm and 
 
 paradox 
 
 To-mcHTowtbeye-sTtead cause comes on in Chancery ^; 
 boEt I shaE - - - ^ T'3es, for 
 
 Ihavegot:: :z_7i.::::rz il ^Tth my 
 
 eister, and to ir. t jotl, all which aiz zi:.::^:: nore 
 to my taste. £■- _t to my jffofit. 
 
 I missed y zirlrt. Onr pMiy had all the 
 
 refuse oi ' r Red Book — ^Bedfords, 
 
 Jer^-^-= '' _ ''- ~\e like : hut the sexes 
 
 5-^- -z. - back to back upon 
 
 _ : Ji ■ - — - — r of ihe room, hating 
 
 J 7- - ' -1 T zien were sprinHed 
 
 ::i^i '.Lz ..::^ : _- - Eogers fell to my 
 
 - i TT- c. 1 7. Your Frederick 
 
 -e. yonr :_:. : _ ^ done wonders, for 
 
 Wc iLcT-E;! Ep^--: :' -iTrea i_v .TtIIt::-:^ example; 
 eTerybjdy =*r^::_vl :;• tare li;: ii. i : :::Laiiitaiice. 
 I nexer saw anTtlmig l ike it btrt a priz: :: : 11 a scene 
 in iDa-'^ - i- ' — ' ' I . :.~e yon to gues^. 
 
 I -5^;.-: ticket to the ATmacks] 
 
 V : my eister, who I hope 
 
 w_ _. --_ . wae not married, for 
 
 (now I have n she would have been so 
 
 good a he 1 ' :. ir : :r i : ui I she likes her husband. 
 
 I think h . -'rig you for your abetment of her 
 
 abominac. ge av^n years after the event ! I) is 
 
 the only ^ . of fUttM^t gratitnde upon record. 
 
 However, r. : ~ _ i 13 married, I tiTi=t she will remain so. 
 
 Ever y^, de^ 1/ M*, B.
 
 1813] LADY CAROLINE WOL^T)S HERSELF 163 
 
 July 6th, 1813. 
 
 Dear L^ M[ELBOirRNE], — Since I wrote y^ enclosed 
 I have heard a strange story of C/s scratching herself 
 with glass, and I know not what besides ; of all this 
 I was ignorant till this evening. \Miat I did, or said 
 to provoke her I know not. I told her it was better 
 to u'Ciltz ; " because she danced well, and it would be 
 imputed to 7ne, if she did not '' — but I see nothing in 
 this to produce cutting and maiming ; besides, before 
 supper I saw her, and though she said, and did even 
 then a foolish thing, I could not suppose her so frantic 
 as to be in earnest. She took hold of my hand as I 
 passed, and pressed it against some sharp instrument, 
 and said, " I mea,n to use this." I answered, '' Against 
 me, I presume ? " and passed on with J7 R[ancliffe], 
 trembling lest L*^ Y. or U R. should overhear her ; 
 though not believing it possible that this was more 
 than one of her, not uncommon, bravadoes, for real 
 feeling does not disclose its intentions, and always 
 shuns display. I thought little more of this, and leaving 
 the table in search of her would have appeared more 
 particular than proper — though, of course, had I 
 guessed her to be serious, or had I been conscious of 
 offending I should have done everj-thing to pacify 
 or prevent her. I know not what to say, or do. I am 
 quite unaware of what I did to displease ; and useless 
 regret is aU I can feel on the subject. Can she be in 
 her senses ? Yet I would rather think myself to 
 blame — than that she iccre so silly without cause. 
 
 I really remained at 17 H[eathcote'sj till 5, totally 
 ignorant of aU that passed. Nor do I now know where 
 this cursed scarification took place, nor when — I mean 
 the room — and the hour.^ 
 
 1 Lady Caroline Lamb, writing to iledwin in 1824, thus describes 
 the occurrence here referred to : 
 
 " He [BjTon] had made me swear that I was never to waltz. 
 Lady Heathcote said : ' Come, Lady Caroline, you must begin.' I 
 bitterly answered, ' Oh, yes ! I am in a merry humour.' I did so, 
 but whispered to Lord B\Ton : ' I conclude that I may waltz now ? ' 
 He answered sarcastically, ' With everybody in tvun — you alwaj-s 
 
 1—12
 
 164 LETTERS TO LADY ^rELBOUBXE [ch. iv 
 
 July 6th, 1813. 
 
 My deae Lady M... — God knows what has happened, 
 but at four in the morning JJ Ossiilstone looking 
 angry (and at that moment, ugly), delivered to me a 
 confused kind of message from you of some scene — 
 this is all I know, except that with laudable logic she 
 drew the usual feminine deduction that I *' must have 
 behaved very ill.*' 
 
 If Ir C. is offended, it really must be anger at my not 
 affronting her'- — for one of the few things I said, was a 
 request to know her will and pleasure, if there was any- 
 thing I could say, do. or not do to give her the least 
 gratiiication. She walked away without answering, 
 and after leaving me in this not very dignified situation, 
 and showing her independence to twenty people near, 
 I only saw her dancing and in the doorway for a moment, 
 where she said something so very violent that I was in 
 distress lest L^ Y. or L-"^ Rancliffe overheard her. I went 
 to supper, and saw and heard no more tiU L^ Ossul- 
 stone told me your words and her own opinion, and here 
 I am in stupid innocence and ignorance of my offence 
 or her proceedings. If I am to be hamited with hysterics 
 wherever I go, and whatever I do. I think she is not 
 the only person to be pitied. I should have returned 
 to her after her doorway ivhispt^r, but I could not with 
 any kind of poHteness leave L-'^Rancliff'e to drown herself 
 
 did it better than anyone. I shall have a pleasiire in seeing you.' 
 I did so ; you may judge -with what feelings ! After this — feeling 
 iU — I went into a small inner room where supper was prepared. 
 Lord Byron and Lady Rancli5e entered. Seeing me, Lord BjTon 
 said : ' I have been admiring your dexterity.' I clasped a knife, 
 not intending anything. ' Do, my dear,' he said ; ' but if you mean 
 to act a Roman's part, mind which way you strike with your knife 
 — be it at your own heart, not mine — you have struck here already.' 
 ' B\"Ton ! ' I said, and ran away with the knife. I did not stab 
 myself. It is false. Lady Ranclifie and Lady Tanker%-ille screamed 
 and said I would do so. People pulled to get it from me, I was 
 terrified. My hand got cut, and the blood came over my gown. I 
 know not what happened after — but this is the very truth." 
 
 1 Lady Melboxirne wrote to Byron describing an interview with 
 Lady CaroUne and her terrible paroxysm of passion and violence. 
 In Whig Society, 155.
 
 1813] ACCUSATIONS ; AGAINST BYRON 165 
 
 in wine and water, or be suffocated in a jelly dish, with- 
 out a spoon, or a hand to help her ; besides if there was, 
 and I foresaw there would be something ridiculous, 
 surely I was better absent than present. 
 
 This is really insanity, and everybody seems inocu- 
 lated with the same distemper. 1/ W[estmoreland] 
 says, " You must have done something ; you know 
 between people in your situation, a word or a look goes 
 a great way," &c. &c. So it seems indeed — but I 
 never knew that neither words nor looks — in short down- 
 right, innocent, vacant, undefinable nothing, had the 
 same precious power of producing this perpetual worry. 
 
 I wait to hear from you, in case I have to answer 
 you. I trust nothing has occurred to spoil your 
 breakfast, for which the Regent has got a fine day. 
 
 July 9(h, 1813. 
 
 My deae L^ Melbotjene, — I do not know how she 
 wUl make out any duplicity on my part towards you, 
 for she is eternally asking if I am not in love with you, 
 which at least shows that no abuse can have fallen from 
 me on y® subject. Who or what the persons may be 
 who suppose me to blame, because a woman falls into 
 a fury in public, I know not nor am anxious to know ; 
 they may as well be quiet, for although I neither have, 
 nor shall attempt to vindicate myself to any but you 
 and her, from the truly absurd reasons she has adduced 
 for her conduct, I have borne too much already to 
 submit even to explanation. 
 
 I shall be under way in a few weeks, having nearly, 
 indeed quite arranged my business, and in the meantime 
 they shall not have far to hunt for me. Do you know 
 that I look upon myself as the aggrieved person in this 
 instance, as far as regards her and her own family (not 
 yours, of course, for they cannot be blamed, do what 
 they will), and with this conviction I defy them in any 
 and every manner. 
 
 I do not understand her " sometimes cruel " and 
 " sometimes kind," but her notions of kindness are 
 not very well adapted for a public display. Was it
 
 166 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 not in complying with the request of all her connections 
 that I incurred this ebullition of selfish anger and 
 distempered vanity ? 
 
 I have never from the moment the connection ended 
 last year encouraged her in any of her absurdities — • 
 but if she absolutely of her own accord committed 
 herself at any time, how could I betray or iU treat her ? 
 You see what my not objecting to her waltzing (for 
 I did and said nothing more) has produced. Let them 
 begin at once instead of talking about it ; do they 
 suppose there is anything so terrific in the Devonshire 
 hive, hees or drones ? They shall find me a wasp. As 
 to taking care of myself, that I must leave to Provi- 
 dence ; there is no guarding against her, I have done 
 my best. To you I have now and ever to return my 
 best thanks — ii I am either angry or ungrateful it 
 neither is nor shall be to yourself. Ever yours, most 
 affectionately, Byron. 
 
 July I8th, 1813. 
 
 My dear L^ M., — The purchaser of Newstead is 
 not a young man.* It was supposed that the 
 purchase was for a Mr. Leigh, and I wish it were, for 
 that gentleman could make fifty such, without injury 
 to himself. Of Mr. Claughton's circumstances I know 
 little or nothing. He bought the estate not at the 
 public auction, but after a fortnight's deliberation after 
 the public biddings — the price was entirely his own 
 offer. He himself has never made such a representa- 
 tion to me, or my agents, and till this moment I never 
 heard the report ; he declared and declares himself 
 willing to complete when a title is made out, this we 
 of course are prepared to provide. I do not, it is true, 
 consider him a willing purchaser ; he evaded, and at 
 last drove me into Chancery, but if he is ruined by this 
 contract, or has been ill treated by me or mine on that 
 subject, he has hitherto been silent, at least to me. 
 
 * Miss Milbanke had written to Lady Melbourne telling her she 
 had heard a report in London that Lord Byron had behaved very 
 unhandsomely to the " young man who purchased Newstead." 
 In Whig Society, 159.
 
 1813] MR. CLAUGHTON AND NEWSTEAD 167 
 
 If anyone is injured in this transaction, in circumstances 
 or unfair treatment, it is myself — the title to my estate 
 (of 300 years' standing) has been doubted, my hopes 
 and my arrangements overthrown and confused, and it 
 should now seem, my character called in question. I 
 have no time now to expatiate further on a subject 
 which I feel persuaded will not require explanation to 
 those who know me ; besides, I am not very fond of 
 defending myself. I shall, however, have an imme- 
 diate explanation with the interesting youth (a lawyer 
 of forty-five years) who is so much overreached by the 
 dreadful chicane and wily experience of that mercenary 
 and litigious person, who is Yours most truly, B. * 
 
 P.S. — ^You wUl make my best acknowledgments 
 to Miss M. and say what is most proper. I have 
 not the skill — you are an adept ; you may defend 
 me if it amuses you, not else. Let them say any- 
 thing but what is true, and I forgive your prattlers 
 against me. 
 
 July 30th, 1813. 
 
 My dear L^ M^, — There is Therlosky's farewell for 
 you. She charges me with making my valet read her 
 letters to me when in a hurry (as if that would not 
 be the time for a man to read them himself) on the 
 report of somebody whom I suspect by the brilliancy 
 of the invention to be some of the she- Blarneys. Pray 
 tell her it is false (now let me beg of you to do so, or 
 she will never be quiet), and that I don't think the man 
 could, if I wished him to, decypher her dispatches, but 
 would resign rather than undertake unravelling her 
 hieroglyphics. 
 
 " I don't teU you anything ! " Very good, everybody 
 rates me about my confidences with you. Augusta, for 
 example, writes to-day, and the last thing she says is, 
 "This must not go to 1/ M^" and, to punish you, it 
 shan't. I commit you to the care of Providence, and 
 am ever, my dear 1/ M% Most affectionately, Y"" 
 obliged S*, B. 
 
 ^ See Byron's letter to Hanson, same date, Letters, ii. 232.
 
 168 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 [Bennet Stbeet, St. James's] August 5th, 1813. 
 
 My dear U M., — ^My sister, who is going abroad 
 with me, is now in town, where she returned with 
 me from Newmarket. Under the existing circum- 
 stances of her lord's embarrassments, she could not 
 weU do otherwise, and she appears to have still less 
 reluctance at leaving this country than even myself. 
 
 L^ C. may do as she pleases. If Augusta likes to 
 take her she may, but in that case she will travel by 
 herself. Nugent does not know I am in town, and if 
 he did, I could not at present accept his invitation, 
 though your presence is a strong temptation, indeed 
 much stronger for not being a new one. 
 
 So M""^ de Stael says my visit was justificatory. This 
 is not very justifiable in her ; if she asserts that I said 
 what I really did not, I shall revenge myself by 
 repeating what she reaUy did say. This she would 
 not like, although our conversation was neither 
 amatory nor political. I caUed because she said by not 
 visiting I " treated her with contempt," an impression 
 of which common poUteness required the removal. 
 I am always delighted to visit you at your own hour, 
 but I am never myself in a morning, or rather I am 
 myself, or Lord Stair (I doubt which very often) my 
 dullness is so very ineffable. 
 
 We have an event in our family — a female cousin 
 going to Monros for religion. Could not you send one 
 of your family to join her? — she is to have a spare waist- 
 coat that will fit the other I daresay ; if not, I believe 
 I must try it myself. 
 
 Ever y" d' L^ M., B. 
 
 August 8th, 1813 
 
 My dear L^ M., — I wrote y® annexed note 3 days 
 ago, and as it contains a " direct " answer to some of 
 your queries I shall even let it go as it is. I put it 
 in my drawer, and forgot it, for I have been occupied to 
 weariness with various somethings and nothings ever 
 since ; amongst others in preventing two men (one
 
 1813] ALBERT DE STAEL 169 
 
 an old friend) from cutting one another's throats, 
 after a quarrel in which I was called in to mediate and 
 succeeded in reserving them for a different fate, and, 
 I humbly hope, a better,* 
 
 I rather plume myself upon this, being the first 
 decent deed I have done since my acquaintance with 
 the most celebrated personage of your illustrious house, 
 whose fault it is not, that I have not had the obligation 
 returned. 
 
 I have not broken in upon your grief for the departure 
 of your diplomatic progeny to cope with Buonaparte. 
 I think 1/ A^ might be an useful appendage to his 
 suite, as by aU accounts the Emperor is rather more 
 frail than becomes a hero, 
 
 M® de Stael's favourite son " has had his head cleft 
 by a vile adjutant who knew the broadsword exercise 
 better than piquet, for that was y' cause of carnage. 
 I thought that game had been only dangerous to your 
 sex. Corinne is doubtless very much affected, yet 
 methinks I should conjecture she wiU want some 
 spectators to testify how graceful her grief will be, and 
 to relate what fine things she can say on a subject where 
 commonplace mourners would be silent. 
 
 Do I err in my judgment of the woman, think you % 
 She is in many things a sort of C[aroline Lamb] in 
 her senses, for she is sane. 
 
 Ever y" truly, B. 
 
 August nth, 1813. 
 
 My dear L'^ M., — I ought to have called on you, 
 and I ought all kinds of oughts, for omitting which 
 I can only plead many excuses which will not 
 amount to one apology. As this is the case, I shall 
 omit them altogether, having already written, and 
 
 1 Scrope Davies and Lord Foley, 
 
 a Albert de Stael met his death at Doberan, in the Duchy of 
 Mecklenbxirg-Schwerin, He quarrelled with an officer at the gaming 
 table, and a duel ensued. Albert's head was severed from his body 
 by one of those long and formidable sabres which were carried by 
 the Prussian cavalry.
 
 170 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 destroyed, two ineffectual notes upon that and other 
 subjects. 
 
 From C. after a long (for her) interval of silence, I 
 have received a most rational letter, full of good resolves 
 and a most tempting basket of full excellent fruit. 
 The grapes and gooseberries I have returned, having no 
 great appetite that way, but I keep the letter, which 
 might do me more good, were it written by a grave 
 character, and signed by the Abbess of Quedlinburg. 
 
 C. I assure you I have not seen, and I do really 
 believe she has determined to leave me in quiet, God 
 knows I want it. The few things I wished to have said 
 to you did not at all concern her nor hers, nor you nor 
 yours, daughters nor nieces. I should have been glad 
 of your advice how to untie two or three " gordian 
 knots " tied round me. I shall cut them without 
 consulting anyone, though some are rather closely 
 twisted round my heart (if you will allow me to wear 
 one). 
 
 I suppose you will think I shall never go,^ I almost 
 think so myself, though every day renders it more 
 necessary in all but a worldly point of view. 
 
 I don't know whether to be glad or sorry that I 
 separated from the 0[xford] party, though I have no 
 great disposition to rejoin them. 
 
 Perhaps I shall not see you again ; if not, forgive my 
 follies, and like as much of me as you can. It is odd 
 that I should begin by liking all of your house but you, 
 and end by the reverse, with one exception. But you 
 must recollect that I thought you my enemy, and my 
 dislike was merely defensive. 
 
 Ever y", B. 
 
 P.S. — ^I had a passage in y® Boyne, but it was for one 
 servant only and myself ; this would not do, I am now 
 casting throws for a storeship. I have, since I last 
 saw you, found out about fifty better reasons than ever 
 
 1 He had written to Croker a week or two earlier, and through 
 him, Captain Carleton, of H.M.S. Boyne, had consented to give 
 Byron a passage in his ship to the Mediterranean.
 
 1813] PREPARATIONS FOR DEPARTURE 171 
 
 for migrating — " he says farewell and yet he goes not " 
 — so say I, but I will go nevertheless. 
 
 August 18th, 1813. 
 
 My deae L^"^ ]VP, — I am " a very weak person," and 
 can only answer your letter, I have already written 
 and torn up three to you, and probably may finish in 
 the same way with y® present. 
 
 L*^ S[ligo] is in town, and we are much embarrassed 
 with y^ plague, which is, it seems, aU over y® Levant ; 
 but having been both at a prodigious expenditure in 
 large trunks, small clothes, small arms for ourselves ; 
 snuff-boxes and telescopes for the Mussulman gentry ; 
 and gewgaws for such of the Pagan women as may be 
 inchned to give us trinkets in exchange ; why ? — ^lest 
 so much good preparation may be thrown away we 
 are determined to go — God knows where — for he is 
 bewildered and so am I. His Balarina has presented 
 him with a babe, and malice says that he divides the 
 honours of paternity with the editor of the Courier, 
 who, I suppose, published his trial and tried his fortune 
 with the lady much about the time that Sir Wm. Scott 
 passed sentence of matrimony upon his mother. He is 
 going to part with her, and is right ; those opera-house 
 connections are not very creditable. Besides, the 
 eternal chaldron of boiling suspicion into which a man 
 must be plunged if he hkes one of these women must 
 be insufferable, at least for a permanency. 
 
 Who is your pencil correspondent ? Her query 
 (for it looks like a female's) is too Hvely for IVIrs. George, ^ 
 has too few words for 1/ Jersey, is not starch enough for 
 your niece, nor patient enough for C. It is not 1/ 
 Blarney's, for it is legible ; it is not iU-natured, so it 
 can't be U Holland's. I have already named more 
 people than I believe care where I am or what I am 
 doing ; or at any rate that would ask you the question. 
 Tell me, and in return I will tell — ^no I won't. 
 
 Of C, I know nothing, I hear very seldom from her, 
 
 ^ Mrs. George Lamb,
 
 172 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 and then she sends me sermons and fruit — that if one 
 don't make me sick, the other may, I have a letter 
 (not from her) to-day, in which there is an enquiry, 
 " tell me when did you see 1/ M." I will answer it 
 when my correspondent can reply to me, " when I 
 shall see L^ M." 
 
 I have scribbled on without saying a single thing I 
 wished to say. This victory ! ^ Sad mark ; nothing 
 but conquest abroad and high health at home. Only 
 think what a disappointment. The Wapping plague 
 has turned out to be merely a vulgar, low, common- 
 place typhus fever, and won't kill one of our acquaint- 
 ance unless they go to Gravesend to smuggle. Then 
 the Congress ' — L*^ A. is to my conception as empty a 
 piece of Caledonian coxcombry as ever wore a thistle, 
 and as fit to negotiate as I to dance a Bolero — or G. 
 to sit still, or L^ O. to lie still, or L/ Anybody to be still. 
 
 I don't know him, but merely judge from an air of 
 pretension about him, which is generally the solemn 
 cloak of shallowness. I have heard him speak badly, 
 on Spanish affairs ; very Ukely he may do better with 
 our own. 
 
 Write to me soon, and believe me ever, 
 
 y^ most explicitly, B. 
 
 [London] August 20th, 1813. 
 
 My DEAR IP^ M., — ^When I don't write to you, or 
 see you for some time you may be very certain I am 
 about no good — and vice versa. I have sent you a 
 long scrawl, and here be a second, which may con- 
 vince you that I am not ashamed of myself, or else I 
 should keep out of the way of one for whom I have so 
 much regard. C. has been a perfect lake, a mirror of 
 quiet, and I have answered her last two letters. I hope 
 they will neither ruffle the lake, nor crack the mirror ; 
 but when she really and truly has been behaving 
 
 1 Battles of the Pyrenees, July 31. 
 
 2 The Congress of Prague met on Aug, 1, and on Aug. 12 Austria 
 declared war against France, Lord Aberdeen was H,B,M. Ambas- 
 sador at Vienna.
 
 1813] LADY COWPER 173 
 
 prettily, I could not write ferociously. Besides I 
 happened just then to be in exquisite good humour 
 with myself and two or three other people. 
 
 " Perhaps Prosperity becalmed his breast, 
 Perhaps the wind just, shifted from the East." 
 
 Everything in this hfe depends upon the weather, 
 and the state of one's digestion. I have been eating 
 and drinking ; which I always do when wretched ; for 
 then I grow fat and don't show it ; and now that I 
 am in very good plight and spirits I can't leave ojS the 
 custom, though I have no further occasion for it, and 
 shan't have till the next change of weather, I suppose, 
 or some other atmospherical reason. 
 
 And now what are you doing ? In this place we can 
 only say what we are not doing. Town is empty, but 
 not the worse for that; it is a delight of a place now there 
 is no one in it. I am totally and unutterably possessed 
 by the ineffable power of indolence. I see no one ; 
 
 I say nothing ; I do nothing ; and I wish for noth 
 
 oh, yes ! I wish to see you ; and next to that to hear 
 from you. I have great hopes of saihng soon, for Cadiz, 
 I beUeve, first, and thence wherever the gods permit, 
 I shan't be sorry to see that best and whitest of seaport 
 towns again ; but aU this depends upon the weather, 
 or my own caprices, which are much more whimsical. 
 
 How is your sole companion the Countess of Pans- 
 hanger ? * I have now been a retainer of your house 
 one year and sundry months, and I know rather less of 
 that illustrious lady than I did the first moment of 
 my introduction ; yet I have thought as much about 
 her as any of you ; not, the gods know, with any but 
 the most profound reverence, but she puzzled me (which 
 is very easy), and furnished me with many an enter- 
 taining soliloquy upon a variety of topics. Do you 
 know I am an observer, but my observations upon man, 
 
 ^ The Coiintess Cowper was Amelia, daughter of Lady Melbourne. 
 Lord Cowper died in 1837, and Lady Cowper married Lord 
 Palmerston in 1839.
 
 174 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 or rather womankind — like deep metaphysical re- 
 searches — lead only to doubt, and then I leave them, 
 or they me. Is not this a laudable spirit of enquiry into 
 things that don't concern myself ? Make my best 
 respects, and don't be angry with me — which you will, 
 however ; first, for some things I have said, and then 
 for others I have not said. You would not have me 
 always talking egotism, though it is said to be allowable 
 in a letter, and only in a letter. 
 
 I am now going to dine where I shall be obliged to 
 drink more than is prudent, and I congratulate myself 
 and you on having written this before dinner instead 
 of after, though it is stupid enough to make you believe 
 that I have anticipated my claret. 
 
 Yours ever, my dear 1/ M., in sober sadness, or as a 
 wine-bibber ought to say, in sad sobriety. 
 
 B. 
 
 [4, Bennet Street] August 2lst, 1813. 
 
 My deae L°^ M?, — We are sadly bewUdered. I ask 
 you who was so good as to inquire after me, and you send 
 me in reply some speculations upon a note in pencil you 
 once saw, which came from a person you certainly never 
 saw in your life, and who I am almost sure was never 
 in London but once, and then only for two months. 
 From, or of that personage I have not heard since last 
 March. I do not know that anyone ever reproached me 
 for ill-treating C. as far as regarded my acquaintance 
 with you. Oh yes ! there was one, but I know as 
 little where she is as I do of the other ; and we never 
 were, nor — I dare swear — ever will be, in the least 
 intimate. I have not said that any person objected at 
 present to that magical influence I will not deny that 
 you possess ; not only over me, but anyone on whom 
 you please to exert it. I never knew but three people 
 who did object to it, and much good it did them ! 
 
 I am " sick and serious," am I ? Then you must cure 
 the one, and laugh away the other ; but I equally 
 deny the malady, and the melancholy. 
 
 Of C.'s parcel and its contents I am in utter ignorance.
 
 1813] BYRON STOPS A DUEL 175 
 
 To the picture I plead guilty. I thought I had already 
 said to you as I did to C. that it was for Augusta, who 
 took it with her, I believe, into the country. She wants 
 to go with me to Sicily, or elsewhere, and I wish it also ; 
 but the intelligence of the progress of the plague is 
 really too serious; and she would take one of the children. 
 Now L^ 0[xford] sickened me of everybody's children ; 
 besides, it is so superfluous to carry such things with 
 people — if they want them can't they get them on the 
 spot ? 
 
 After aU I shall probably go alone. S[ligo] wants to 
 go to Russia, only to see a worse London at St. Peters- 
 burgh. He prefers (as anyone in his senses would) the 
 Mediterranean, but is staggered by the pestilence. 
 He is not, I believe, the least jealous of his precious 
 appendage, but tired of her ; and I don't much wonder, 
 poor fellow ! Why should his " figure " prevent him 
 from jealousy ? I think it would be a very good cause, 
 though he is less than the Prince, who I fancy did not 
 find his figure in his way. Heaven knows what is to 
 become of any, or at least most of our sex, if our mas- 
 culine ugliness is to be an obstacle. It is fortunate 
 that the caprice of your gender generally gets the better 
 of their taste. 
 
 I am delighted to hear of your return to town ; 
 I shall then see you. You don't know how much good 
 your conversation does me. You must promise me, 
 if I stay away two years, to send me an invitation to 
 Brocket on my return. I hope there wiU be no alarm ; 
 it is very hard to live in perpetual quarantine. 
 
 Ever, dear L-^^ M^ B. 
 
 P.S. — Scrope Davies and L^ Foley were the quarrellers 
 you mention, and I was called in by the former.' A 
 second's is a most inglorious and ungrateful office, 
 and having as little desire to make others play the fool 
 as to quarrel myself, with a little management I made 
 it up between them, as might be done nine times out 
 of ten, if the mediator is not a buUy, or a butcher. 
 
 ^ See letter dated 8 Aug. 1813, and Letters and Journals, ii. 248.
 
 176 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [en. rv 
 
 You say my handwriting is altered. I fear not for 
 the better. It depends upon my pens, and my humours 
 — both, as you know, none of the best. 
 
 August 23rd, 1813. 
 
 My deae L°^ M., — ^Would that Henry Luttrell had 
 travelled, or that we could provide hun with a 
 mattress stuffed with peach-stones to teach him 
 more philosophy in such petty calamities. I re- 
 member my friend Hobhouse used to say in Turkey 
 that I had no notion of comfort, because I could 
 sleep where none but a bnde could, and certainly where 
 brutes did ; for often have the cows, turned out of their 
 apartment, butted at the door all night, extremely 
 discomposed with their unaccountable ejectment. 
 Thus we lived — one day in the palace of the Pacha, and 
 the next perhaps in the most [miserable hut of the 
 mountains. I confess I preferred the former, but never 
 quarrelled with the latter, and as to eating (by-the-bye 
 I have lately stuffed like Count Staremberg) you know 
 I am easily victualled. 
 
 A pretty panegyric you have passed upon the 
 Countess,^ "honourable and amiable." God knows I 
 have no reason to doubt either, and never did — but 
 methuiks this is a marvellous insipid eulogium. ' ' Ami- 
 able " she must be, because she reminds us very much 
 of yourself, and "honourable," because she remmds 
 me of nobody else. The fact is, you love her better 
 than anything in existence ; and for that reason you 
 don't know how to praise her properly ; so you must 
 confine yourself to abusing me, in which, if you don't 
 succeed, it is no fault of mine. 
 
 You tell me I don't know women — did I ever pretend 
 to be an unraveller of riddles ? and was there ever 
 anyone more easily deceived and led by anyone, who 
 will take the trouble than myself ? "Know them ? " 
 not I, indeed, and I heartily hope I never may. " Was 
 my good-humour from deceiving or being duped ? " 
 
 * Cowper.
 
 1813] MISS MILBANKE 177 
 
 The last, of course — or how could I be so happy as you 
 seem to think me ? 
 
 My head is a little disturbed to-day. I have to 
 write — first, a soothing letter to C, a sentimental one 
 to X. Y. Z., a sincere one to T. Moore, and one, a 
 mixture of all three, to yourself, with as much of the 
 ludicrous as you like to find in it. I ought to have 
 said this in y® beginning, for now I must end it. Adieu ! 
 
 Ever /^ B. 
 
 A^lgust dUt, 1813. 
 
 My dear L^ M^, — Your kind letter is unanswerable ; 
 no one but yourself would have taken the trouble ; 
 no one but me would have been in a situation to 
 require it. I am still in town so that it has as yet 
 had aU the effect you wish. 
 
 I enclose you a letter from Sligo with his Oiaour, 
 which differs from our friend C's as much as from mine, 
 for that reason I send it you. The part I have erased 
 merely contained some barbarous Turkish names of 
 no consequence, and some circumstances not imme- 
 diately relevant to the story. When you have read it 
 I will thank you for it again, I think it will make 
 you laugh when you consider aU the poetry and prose 
 which has grown out of it. 
 
 Ever, my dear L^ M^ y'^, B. 
 
 P.S. Do you go to L'' Le D[espencer]'s to-night ? 
 I am asked. 
 
 September 5th, 1813. 
 
 Dear Lady Melbourne, — I return you the plan 
 of A[nnabella]'s spouse elect,* of which I shall say 
 nothing because I do not understand it ; though I 
 dare say it is exactly what it ought to be. Neither do 
 
 1 During this time Byron was corresponding with Miss Milbanke. 
 She wrote to her atant apparently in fulfilment of a promise, des. 
 cribing her own views in regard to matrimony and her idea of what 
 her husband should be like. See In Whig Society, 136-142. Some 
 letters from him to her between August 25, 1813, and March 15, 1814, 
 are printed in Letters and Journals, iii. 397-409.
 
 178 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 I know why I am writing this note, as I mean to call 
 on you, unless it be to try your "new patent pens'* 
 which delight me infinitely with their colours. I have 
 pitched upon a yellow one to begin with. 
 
 Very likely you will be out, and I must return all 
 the annexed epistles. I would rather have seen your 
 answer. She seems to have been spoiled — not as 
 children usually are — but systematically Clarissa 
 Harlowed into an awkward kind of correctness, with 
 a dependence upon her own infallibility which will 
 or may lead her into some egregious blunder. I don't 
 mean the usual error of young gentlewomen, but she 
 will find exactly what she wants, and then discover 
 that it is much more dignified than entertaining. 
 
 September 7th, 1813. 
 
 My dear L^ ]\P, — A letter from A., from you, and 
 from Ali Pacha by D"" Holland, just arrived, in which 
 that amiable potentate styles me his "most excellent 
 and dearest friend." What do you think was "dearest 
 friend's " last exploit ? Forty- two years ago the 
 inhabitants of a hostile city seized his mother and two 
 sisters, and treated them as Miss Cunegonde ^ was used 
 by the Bulgarian cavalry. Well, this year he at last 
 becomes master of the aforesaid city, selects all the 
 persons living in the remotest degree akin to this out- 
 rage (in Turkey these are affronts), their children, 
 grandchildren, cousins, &c., to the amount of 600, 
 and has them put to death in his presence. I don't 
 wonder at it, but the interval of 42 years is rather 
 singular. This H[ollan]d^ tells me occurred in the 
 present spring. 
 
 ^ Cunegonde, the mistress of Candide, in Voltaire's novel Candide, 
 chap. vii. " On ne vous a done par viol6 ? on ne vous a point 
 fendu le ventre, comme le philosophe Pangloss me I'avait assure ? " 
 " Si fait," dit la belle Cunegonde ; " mais on ne meurt pas toujoura 
 de ces deux accidents." 
 
 2 See Letters, i. 246, and note. Dr. (afterwards Sir Henry) Holland 
 published in 1815 his Travels in the Ionian Islands, Albania, etc. 
 He died in 1873.
 
 1813] "A NEW SCRAPE" 179 
 
 He writes to me to get him a gun made, and 
 assures me of his tender remembrance and profound 
 respect. 
 
 I dine out, and am afraid I shall hardly be in time ; 
 but I wlQ doubtless endeavour to have the pleasure of 
 seeing you. I have a great many things to say, and 
 some very good things to hear at any rate. 
 
 Ever y^ B. 
 
 [London] September 8th, 1813. 
 
 My dear L^ W, — ^I leave town to-morrow for a few 
 days, come what may ; and as I am sure you would 
 get the better of my resolution, I shall not venture 
 to encounter you. If nothing very particular occurs, 
 you wUl allow me to write as usual ; if there does, 
 you will probably hear of, but not from, me (of course) 
 again. 
 
 Adieu 1 Whatever I am, whatever, and wherever 
 I may be, believe me most truly your obliged 
 
 and faithful B. 
 
 [Thuhsday] September Qth, 1813. 
 
 My deab L"^ M^, — I did not receive your note till 
 midnight, having gone out immediately on writing my 
 own, or you may feel assured that I could have as 
 little resisted your conjuration as any other spell you 
 may think proper to cast over me. 
 
 Something has occurred which prevents my leaving 
 town till Saturday — perhaps tUl Sunday ; later than 
 that day I cannot well remain. Without, as A. says, 
 being in a state of despondericy, I am nevertheless very 
 much perplexed ; however, that must end one way or 
 the other. ^ You say, " Write to me, at all events " ; 
 
 1 On Aug. 22 he had wrivten to Moore : " The fact is, I am at 
 this moment in a far more serious and entirely new scrape than 
 any of the last twelve months, and that is saying a good deal." 
 On Nov. 8 he wrote to Augusta Leigh : " It is not Lady C. or O. ; 
 but perhaps you may guess, and if you do, do not tell." Letters and 
 Journals, ii. 277. 
 
 1—13
 
 180 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 depend upon it, I will, till the moment arrives (if it 
 does arrive) when I feel that you ought not to acknow- 
 ledge me as a correspondent — in that case, a sense of 
 what is due to yourself, and a very grateful remembrance 
 of all you have done to save one not worth preserving, 
 will of course close our correspondence and acquaint- 
 ance at once — the sincerest and only proof I could then 
 afford of the value I set upon your friendship. 
 
 Ever yours, B. 
 
 Aston Hall, Rotherham, September 2lst, 1813. 
 
 My dear L'^ ]VP, — My stay at Cambridge was very 
 short, but feeling feverish and restless in town I flew 
 off, and here I am on a visit to my friend Webster, 
 now married, and (according to y® Duke of Bucking- 
 ham's curse) " settled in y^ country." His bride, 
 Lady Frances, is a pretty, pleasing woman, but in 
 delicate health, and, I fear, going — if not gone — into 
 a decline. Stanhope and his wife — pretty and pleasant 
 too, but not at all consumptive — left us to-day, leaving 
 only y^ family, another single gentleman, and your 
 slave. The sister, L^ Catherine, is here too, and looks 
 very pale from a cross in her love for Lord Bury (L^ 
 Alb[emarl]e's son) ; in short, we are a society of happy 
 wives and unfortunate maidens. The place is very 
 well, and quiet, and the children only scream in a low 
 voice, so that I am not much disturbed, and shall 
 stay a few days in tolerable repose. 
 
 W[ebster] don't want sense, nor good nature, but 
 both are occasionally obscured by his suspicions, and 
 absurdities of all descriptions ; he is passionately fond 
 of having his wife admired, and at the same time 
 jealous to jaundice of ever5^hing and everybody. 
 I have hit upon the medium of praising her to him 
 perpetually behind her back, and never looking at her 
 before his face ; as for her, I believe she is disposed to 
 be very faithful, and I don't think anyone now here is 
 inclined to put her to the test. W[ebster] himself is, 
 with all his jealousy and admiration, a little tired ; 
 he has been lately at Newstead, and wants to go again.
 
 1813] SIR W. WEDDERBURN WEBSTER 181 
 
 I suspected this sudden 'penchant, and soon discovered 
 that a foolish nymph of the Abbey, about whom for- 
 tunately I care not, was the attraction. Now if I 
 wanted to make mischief I could extract much good 
 perplexity from a proper management of such events ; 
 but I am grown so good, or so indolent, that I shall 
 not avail myself of so pleasant an opportunity of tor- 
 menting mine host, though he deserves it for poaching. 
 I believe he has hitherto been unsuccessful, or rather it 
 is too astonishing to be believed. 
 
 He proposed to me, with great gravity, to carry him 
 over there, and I replied with equal candour, that he 
 might set out when he pleased, but that I should remain 
 here to take care of his household in the interim — a 
 proposition which I thought very much to the purpose, 
 but which did not seem at all to his satisfaction. By 
 way of opiate he preached me a sermon on his wife's good 
 qualities, concluding by an assertion that in all moral 
 and mortal qualities, she was very like "Christ ! ! ! " 
 I think the Virgin Mary would have been a more appro- 
 priate typification ; but it was the first comparison of 
 the kind I ever heard, and made me laugh till he was 
 angry, and then I got out of humour too, which pacified 
 him, and shortened the panegyric. 
 
 L*^ Petersham is coming here in a day or two, who 
 will certainly flirt furiously with L'' r[rances], and I 
 shall have some comic lagoism with our little Othello. 
 I should have no chance with his Desdemona myself, 
 but a more lively and better dressed and formed person- 
 age might, in an innocent way, for I really believe the 
 girl is a very good, well-disposed wife, and will do 
 very well if she lives, and he himself don't tease her 
 into some dislike of her lawful owner. 
 
 I passed through Hatfield the night of your hall. 
 Suppose we had jostled at a turnpike ! ! At Bugden ^ 
 I blundered on a Bishop ; the Bishop put me in mind 
 of y® Government — the Government of the Governed — 
 and the governed of their indifference towards their 
 governors, which you must have remarked as to all 
 
 1 sic ; query Buckden.
 
 182 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. IV 
 
 parties. These reflections expectorated as follows — 
 you know I never send you my scribblings — and when 
 you read these, you will wish I never may : 
 
 " 'Tis said Indifference marks the present time, 
 Then hear the reason — though 'tis told in rhyme — 
 A king who can't, a Prince of Wales who don't. 
 Patriots who sha'n't, and Ministers who won't. 
 What matters who are in or out of place, 
 The Mad, the Bad, the Useless, or the Base ? " 
 
 You may read the 2nd couplet so, if you like, 
 
 "A King who cannot, and a Prince who don't. 
 Patriots who would not, ministers who won't." 
 
 I am asked to stay for the Doncaster races, but I am 
 not in plight, and am a miserable beau at the best of 
 times ; so I shall even return to town, or elsewhere ; 
 and in the meantime ever am 
 
 Yours, dear U M^ B. 
 
 P.S. — If you write, address to B[enne]t Street ; 
 were I once gone, I should not wish my letters to travel 
 here after me, for fear of accidents. 
 
 September 28th, 1813. 
 
 My dear Lady Melbourne, — I sent you a long 
 letter from Aston last week, which I hope has been 
 received at Brocket. 
 
 The Doncaster races (as I foretold you) drove me to 
 town ; but I have an invitation to go down again this 
 week, upon which I am pondering. I had reasons of 
 my own, some bad, and others good, for not accom- 
 panying the party to D[oncaste]r ; my time was passed 
 pleasantly enough, and as innocently at Aston as during 
 the " week " of immaculate memory last autumn at 
 Middleton. 
 
 If you received my letter, you will remember my 
 sketch of the Astonian family ; when I return I shall 
 complete it ; at present I doubt about the colours. 
 I have been observing, and have made out one conclu- 
 sion, which is that my friend W[ebster] wiU run his
 
 1813] THE WEBSTERS 183 
 
 head against a wall of his own building. There are a 
 Count and Countess somebody (I forget the name of the 
 exiles), the last of whom made a desperate attack on 
 W. at L*^ Waterpark's a few weeks ago, and W. in 
 gratitude invited them to his house ; there I suppose 
 they now are (they had not arrived when I set out). 
 To me it appears, from W.'s own narrative, that he will 
 be detected, and bullied by the husband into some 
 awkward compromise, and I told him as much ; but 
 like others of our acquaintance he is deaf as an adder. 
 I have known him several years, and really wish him 
 well, for which reason I overlooked his interference 
 in some concerns of my own where he had no business, 
 perhaps because also they had ceased to interest me 
 (for we are aU selfish, and I no more trust myself than 
 others with a good motive), but be that as it may, I 
 wish he would not indulge in such freaks, for which he 
 can have no excuse, and the example will turn out none 
 of the best for 1/ F^. She seems pretty, and intelli- 
 gent, as far as I observed, which was very little ; I 
 had and have other things to reflect upon. 
 
 Your opinion of y® Giaour, or rather y^ additions,^ 
 honours me highly ; you, who know how my thoughts 
 were occupied when these last were written, will perhaps 
 perceive in parts a coincidence in my own state of mind 
 with that of my hero ; if so, you will give me credit for 
 feeling, though on the other hand I lose in your esteem. 
 
 I have tried, and hardly, too, to vanquish my demon ; 
 but to very little purpose, for a resource that seldom 
 failed me before did in this instance. I mean traiisf er- 
 ring my regards to another, of which I had a fair and 
 not discouraging opportunity at one time. I willingly 
 would, but the feeling that it was an effort spoiled all 
 again ; and here I am — what I am you know already. 
 As I have never been accustomed to parade my thoughts 
 before you in a larmo^jante stram, I shall not begin now. 
 
 * See Poetry, iii. 136 ei seq. The following day he wrote to Murray : 
 " Pray suspend the proofs, for I am bitten again and have quantities 
 for other parts of The Qiaour
 
 184 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 The epistles of your mathematician ' {A. would now 
 be ambiguous) continue ; and the last concludes with 
 a repetition of a desire that none but papa and mamma 
 should know it ; why you should not, seems to me quite 
 ludicrous, and is now past praying for ; but observe, 
 here is the strictest of St. Ursula's 11,000 what do 
 you call 'ems ? a wit, a moralist, and religionist, enters 
 into a clandestine correspondence with a personage 
 generally presumed a great roue, and drags her aged 
 parents into this secret treaty. It is, I believe, not 
 usual for single ladies to risk such brilliant adventures ; 
 but this comes of infallibility ; not that she ever says 
 anything that might not be said by the town-crier, still 
 it is imprudent, if I were rascal enough to take an unfair 
 advantage. Alas ! poor human nature, here is your 
 niece writing, and doing a foolish thing, / lecturing 
 Webster ! and forgetting the tremendous " beam in 
 my own eye " ! No. I do feel, but cannot pluck 
 it out. 
 
 These various absurdities and inconsistencies may 
 amuse you ; but there is a fate in such small as well as 
 great concerns, or how came Moreau by his loss of legs ? 
 I saw an extract from his last letter to his wife (in MS. 
 not published) ; he says that " Coquin de Bonaparte est 
 toujours heureux.^^ 
 
 Good night. 
 
 Ever yours, B, 
 
 September 29th, 1813. 
 
 My dear L"^ M^, — I have written you a long letter — 
 which I don't know whether to send you or not — since 
 I came to town, which I leave again on Sunday. 
 
 C.'s communication to y® Lady who inherits your 
 eyes is quite a mistake — or what do I hear ? In my way 
 through Southwell (where I passed a year when 
 eighteen), I might have been liable to what she calls 
 " a new attachment," or, at any rate, an old one or two ; 
 but the letter I have written you will not please you, 
 
 ^ Miss Milbanke.
 
 1813] DINNER AT HOLLAND HOUSE 185 
 
 as I think you will perceive from its tone that I have 
 no newer attachment. 
 
 I am asked again to Aston, and I think I shall go, 
 because — you shan't have the real [reason], because 
 (though it has nothing to do with W[ebster]'s family), 
 but instead of it, because — they gave me a poodle 
 dog, which I left there, and want to bring away 
 with me. 
 
 L*^ Blarney's miomaly delights me beyond everything. 
 I think I can guess C.'s question ; might it not be how 
 far such a production was independent of " new 
 attachments" ? Depend upon it, she wiU never rest 
 tUl she has obtained, in a philosophical way, all the 
 information which can be seen or heard of such a 
 phenomenon. How L^ B. must delight in my being in 
 the secret ; though I really don't see anything so 
 astonishing in C.'s telling it to me, unless her ladyship — 
 but no matter — and grandmamma, too. I suppose 
 she will certainly found an hospital for the species, and 
 appoint C. canoness thereof. 
 
 If I write much more I shall run into repetition of 
 my last letter. Many thanks for all your own. I 
 suppose the Sultan's communication was about the L.'s 
 and G. L.'s embarrassments. 
 
 I don't think Ward is the reviewer of Fox, though he 
 was certain to be suspected. Rogers will never recover 
 his — he harps on it yet. 
 
 Heigh ho ! I have been signing my will to-day, and 
 must do the same for this letter. 
 
 Ever y" most affect''^, B. 
 
 [London] October Ist, 1813. 
 
 IVEy dear L^ M., — You wiU have received two letters 
 of mine, to atone for my late portentous silence, and 
 this is intended as a further expiation. 
 
 I have just been dining at Holland House. The 
 Queen is grown thin and gracious, both of which become 
 her royalty. I met Curran there, who electrified me 
 with his imagination, and delighted me with his humour.
 
 186 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 He is a man of a million.* The Irish when good are 
 perfect ; the little I have seen of him has less leaven 
 than any mortal compound I have lately looked 
 into. 
 
 To-day I heard from my friend W[ebster] again ; 
 his Countess is, he says, "inexorable." What a lucky 
 fellow — happy in his obstacles. In his case I should 
 think them very pleasant ; but I don't lay this down as 
 a general proposition. All my prospect of amusement 
 is clouded, for Petersham * has sent an excuse ; and 
 there will be no one to make him jealous of but the 
 curate and the butler — and I have no thoughts of 
 setting up for myself. I am not exactly cut out for the 
 lady of the mansion ; but I think a stray dandy would 
 have a chance of preferment. She evidently expects to 
 be attacked, and seems prepared for a brilliant defence ; 
 my character as a roue has gone before me, and my 
 careless and quiet behaviour astonished her so much that 
 I believe she began to think herself ugly, or me blind 
 — if not worse. They seemed surprised at my declining 
 the races in particular ; but for this I had good 
 reasons ; firstly : I wanted to go elsewhere ; secondly : 
 if I had gone, I must have paid some attention to some 
 of them ; which is troublesome, unless one has some- 
 thing in memory, or hope to induce it ; and then mine 
 host is so marvellous green-eyed that he might have 
 included me in his calenture — which I don't deserve — 
 and probably should not like it a bit better if I did. 
 
 I have also reasons for returning there on Sunday, 
 with which they have nothing to do ; but if C. takes a 
 suspicious twist that way, let her — it will keep her in 
 
 ' John PhilpotCiirran( 1750-1 8 17). Very few recorda of Curran'a 
 brilliant talk have been preserved. He was at this time Master of 
 the Rolls in Ireland, but spent most of his time in England. See 
 Letters and Journals, ii. 272. 
 
 2 According to Gronow, Lord Petersham was one of the chief 
 dandies of his day. He was a great Maecenas among the tailors, 
 and a particular kind of great-coat bore his name. He was tall and 
 handsome, with a very winning smile. See Letters and Journals, 
 ii. 269.
 
 1813] LADY FRANCES WEBSTER 187 
 
 darkness ; but I hope, however, she won't take a fit 
 of scribbHng, as she did to 1/ Oxford last year — ^though 
 Webster's face on the occasion would be quite a comet, 
 and dehght me infinitely more than 0[xford]'s, which 
 was comic enough. 
 
 Friday morn, — Yours arrived. I wiU answer on the 
 next page. 
 
 So — L"^^ H[oUand] says I am fattening, and you say I 
 talk " nonsense.'" Well — I must fast and unfool again, 
 if possible. But, as Curran told me last night that he 
 had been assured upon oath by half the Court, that 
 " the Prince was not at aU corpulent, that he was 
 stout certainly, but by no means protuberant, or 
 obese," " there's comfort yet." As to folly, that's 
 incurable. 
 
 " See C. ! if I should see C. ! " I hope not, though I 
 am not sure a visit would be so disagreeable as it ought 
 to be. "I pique myself on constancy, but it is but 
 a sensitive plant, and thrives best by itself." 
 
 Then there is the story of L^ B.'s novelty, which I am 
 sure she longs to unravel. How your passage on " the 
 kneeling in the middle of the room," made me laugh 
 this morning ; it certainly was not the centre of gravity 
 — pardon a wretched quibble which I don't often hazard. 
 I did not kneel in the middle of the room ; but the 
 first time I saw her this year, she thought proper to 
 fix herself there and turn away her head : and, as 
 one does not kneel exactly for one's own convenience, 
 my genuflexions would have been all lost upon her if 
 she did not perceive them. 
 
 To return to the W[ebster]s. I am glad they 
 amaze you ; anything that confirms, or extends one's 
 observations on life and character delights me, even 
 when I don't know people — for this reason I would give 
 the world to pass a month with Sheridan, or any lady 
 or gentleman of the old school, and hear them talk 
 every day, and aU day of themselves, and acquaint- 
 ance, and all they have heard and seen in their lives. 
 [Webster] seems in no present peril. I believe the 
 woman is mercenary ; and I happen to know that he
 
 188 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 can't at present bribe her.* . . . I told him that it would 
 be known, and that he must expect reprisals — and what 
 do you think was his answer ? "I think any woman 
 fair game, because I can depend upon L^ F.'s principles 
 — she can't go wrong, and therefore I may." " Then, 
 why are you jealous of her ? " " Because — because — 
 zounds ! I am not jealous. Why the devil do you sup- 
 pose I am ? " I then enumerated some very gross 
 symptoms which he had displayed, even before her 
 face, and his servants, which he could not deny ; 
 but persisted in his determination to add to his 
 " bonnes fortunes " ; — it is a strange being ! When I 
 came home in 1811, he was always saying, " B., do 
 marry — it is the happiest," etc. The first thing he said 
 on my arrival at A[ston] was, " B., whatever you do, 
 don't marry " ; which, considering he had an unmarried 
 sister-in-law* in the house, was a very ■wmiecessary 
 precaution. 
 
 Every now and then he has a fit of fondness, and 
 kisses her hand before his guests ; which she receives 
 with the most lifeless indifference, which struck me 
 more than if she had appeared pleased, or annoyed. 
 Her brother told me last year that she married to get 
 rid of her family (who are ill-tempered), and had not 
 been out two months ; so that, to use a fox-hunting 
 phrase, she was " killed in covert." 
 
 You have enough of them, and me for y® present. 
 
 Y'^ ever, B. 
 
 P.S. I do not wish to know y® person's name, but to 
 whom is the likeness — to me or to her ? 
 
 Aston Hall, Rotherham, October 5th, 1813. 
 
 My dear L^M.,— W. has lost his Countess, his time 
 and his temper (I would advise anyone who finds 
 the last to return it immediately ; it is of no use to 
 
 1 Presmnably The Countess, referred to in the next letter. Cf. 
 Letters and Journals, ii. 269, 270. 
 
 2 Lady Catherine Annesley, afterwards Lady John Somerset.
 
 1813] THE WEBSTERS 189 
 
 any but the owner). 1/ F[rances] has lost Petersham, 
 for the present at least ; the other sister, as I have said 
 before, has lost L*^ Bury ; and I have nobody to lose — 
 here, at least — and am not very anxious to find one. 
 Here be two friends of the family, besides your slave : 
 a Mr. Westcombe — very handsome, but silly — and a 
 Mr. Agar — frightful, but facetious. The whole party 
 are out in carriages — a species of amusement from which 
 I always avert ; and, consequently, declined it to-day ; 
 it is very well with two, but not beyond a duet. I 
 think, being bumped about between two or more of 
 one's acquaintance intolerable. W[ebster] grows rather 
 intolerable, too. He is out of humour with my Italian 
 books (Dante and Alfieri, and some others as harmless 
 as ever, wrote), and requests that sa femme may not 
 see them, because, forsooth, it is a language which 
 doth infinite damage ! ! and because I enquired after 
 the Stanhopes, our mutual acquaintance, he answers 
 me by another question, " Pray, do you enquire after 
 my wife of others in the same way ? " so that you see my 
 Virtue is its own reward — for never, in word or deed, 
 did I speculate upon his spouse ; nor did I ever see 
 much in her to encourage either hope, or much fulfil- 
 ment of hope, supposing I had any. She is pretty, 
 but not surpassing — too thin, and not very animated ; 
 but good-tempered — andasomethinginterestingenough 
 in her manner and figure ; but I never should think 
 of her, nor anyone else, if left to my own cogitations, 
 as I have neither the patience nor presumption to 
 advance tiU met half-way. The other two pay her 
 ten times more attention, and, of course, are more 
 attended to. I really believe he is bilious, and suspects 
 something extraordinary from my nonchalance ; at 
 all events, he has hit upon the wrong person. I can't 
 help laughing to you, but he will soon make me very 
 serious with him, and then he will come to his senses 
 again. The oddest thing is, that he wants me to stay 
 with him some time ; which I am not much inclined 
 to do, unless the gentleman transfers his fretfulness to 
 someone else. I have written to you so much lately.
 
 190 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 you will be glad to be spared from any further account 
 of the " Blunderhead family." 
 
 Ever y'^ my dear JJ M^ B. 
 
 October 8th, 1813. 
 
 My dear L^ M., — I have volumes, but neither time 
 nor space. I have already trusted too deeply to 
 hesitate now ; besides, for certain reasons, you will 
 not be sorry to hear that I am anything but what I 
 was. Well then, to begin, and first, a word of mine 
 host. — He has lately been talking at, rather than 
 to, me before the party (with the exception of the 
 women) in a tone, which as I never use it myself, I 
 am not particularly disposed to tolerate in others. 
 What he may do with impunity, it seems, but not 
 suffer, till at last I told him that the whole of his argu- 
 ment involved the interesting contradiction that " he 
 might love where he liked, but that no one else might 
 like what he ever thought proper to love," a doctrine 
 which, as the learned Partridge observed, contains a 
 " non sequitur " from which I, for one, begged leave 
 as a general proposition to dissent. This nearly pro- 
 duced a scene with me, as well as another guest, who 
 seemed to admire my sophistry the most of the two ; 
 and as it was after dinner, and debating time, might 
 have ended in more than wineshed, but that the devil, 
 for some wise purpose of his own, thought proper 
 to restore good humour, which has not as yet been 
 further infringed. 
 
 In these last few days I have had a good deal of 
 conversation with an amiable person, whom (as we deal 
 in letters and initials only) we will denominate Ph.^ 
 Well, these things are dull in detail. Take it once, 
 I have made love, and if I am to believe mere words 
 (for there we have hitherto stopped), it is returned. 
 
 I must tell you the place of declaration, however, 
 
 1 There is no doubt that the letters Ph. are made to Btand for 
 F( ranees).
 
 1813] LADY FRANCES WEBSTER 191 
 
 a billiard room.' I did not, as C. says: "kneel in 
 the middle of the room," but, like Corporal Trim to the 
 Nun, "I made a speech," which, as you might not hsten 
 to it with the same patience, I shall not transcribe. 
 We were before on very amicable terms, and I remem- 
 bered being asked an odd question, " how a woman who 
 liked a man could inform him of it when he did not 
 perceive it." I also observed that we went on with our 
 game (of billiards) without counting the hazards ; 
 and supposed that, as mine certainly were not, the 
 thoughts of the other party also were not exactly 
 occupied by what was our ostensible pursuit. Not 
 quite, though pretty well satisfied with my progress, 
 I took a very imprudent step with pen and paper, in 
 tender and tolerably turned prose periods (no poetry 
 even when in earnest). Here were risks, certainly : 
 first, how to convey, then how would it be received ? 
 It was received, however, and deposited not very far 
 from the heart which I wished it to reach when, who 
 should enter the room but the person who ought at 
 that moment to have been in the Red Sea, if Satan 
 had any civihty. But she kept her countenance, and 
 the paper ; and I my composure as well as I could. 
 It was a risk, and all had been lost by failure ; but then 
 recollect how much more I had to gain by the reception, 
 if not dechned, and how much one always hazards to 
 obtain anything worth having. My billet prospered, 
 it did more, it even (I am this moment interrupted by 
 the Marito, and write this before him, he has brought 
 me a pohtical pamphlet in MS. to decypher and applaud, 
 I shall content myseKwith the last; oh, he is gone again), 
 my billet produced an answer, a very unequivocal one 
 too, but a little too much about virtue, and indulgence 
 of attachment in some sort of etherial process, in which 
 the soul is principally concerned, which I don't very well 
 understand, being a bad metaphysician ; but one gene- 
 rally 672^5 andhegins with platonism, and, as myproselyte 
 is only twenty, there is time enough to materialize. 
 
 * See Don Juan.
 
 192 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 I hope nevertheless this spiritual system won't last 
 long, and at any rate must make the experiment. I 
 remember my last case was the reverse, as Major 
 O' Flaherty recommends, " we fought first and explained 
 afterwards."' 
 
 This is the present state of things : much mutual 
 profession, a good deal of melancholy, which, I am 
 sorry to say, was remarked by " the Moor," and as much 
 love as could well be made, considering the time, 
 place and circumstances. 
 
 I need not say that the folly and petulance of 
 [Webster] has tended to all this. If a man is not con- 
 tented with a pretty woman, and not only runs after 
 any little country girl he meets with, but absolutely 
 boasts of it ; he must not be surprised if others admire 
 that which he knows not how to value. Besides, he 
 literally provoked, and goaded me into it, by something 
 not unlike bullying, indirect to be sure, but tolerably 
 obvious : "he would do this, and he would do that," 
 " if any man," &c., &c., and he thought that every 
 " woman " was his lawful prize, nevertheless. Cons ! 
 who is this strange monopolist ? It is odd enough, 
 but on other subjects he is like other people, on this 
 he seems infatuated. If he had been rational, and not 
 prated of his pursuits, I should have gone on very 
 well, as I did at Middleton. Even now, I shan't quarrel 
 with him if I can help it ; but one or two of his speeches 
 have blackened the blood about my heart, and curdled 
 the milk of kindness. If put to the proof, I shall 
 behave like other people, I presume. 
 
 I have heard from A.,^ but her letter to me is melan- 
 choly, about her old friend Miss My's departure, &c., 
 &c. I wonder who will have her at last ; her letter to 
 you is gay you say ; that to me must have been written 
 at the same time ; the little demure nonjuror ! 
 
 I wrote to C. the other day, for I was afraid she might 
 
 1 Dennis O'Flaherty, called " Major O'Flaherty " in Richard 
 Cumberland's The West Indian^ acted in 1771. 
 * Annabella Milbanke.
 
 1813] PLATONISM IN PERIL 193 
 
 repeat last year's epistle, and make it circular among 
 my friends. 
 
 Good evening, I am now going to billiards. 
 
 Ever y", B. 
 
 P.S. 6 o'clock. This business is growing serious, 
 and I think Platonism in some peril. There has been 
 very nearly a scene, almost an hysteric, and really 
 without cause, for I was conducting myself with (to 
 me) very irksome decorum. Her expressions astonish 
 me, so young and cold as she appeared. But these 
 professions must end as usual, and would I think 7iow, 
 had " r occasion " been not wanting. Had anyone 
 come in during the tears, and consequent consolation, 
 all had been spoiled ; we must be more cautious, or less 
 larmoyante. 
 
 P.S. second, 10 o'clock. I write to you, just 
 escaped from claret and vocification on G — d knows 
 what paper. My landlord is a rare gentleman. He has 
 just proposed to me a bet that he, for a certain sum, 
 " wms any given tvoman, against any given homme 
 including all friends present," which I declined with 
 becommg deference to him, and the rest of the company. 
 Is not this, at the moment, a perfect comedy ? ^ 
 
 I forgot to mention that on his entrance yesterday 
 during the letter scene, it reminded me so much of an 
 awkward passage m " The Way to Keep Him " between 
 Lovemore, Sir Bashful, and my Lady, that, embarrass- 
 ing as it was, I could hardly help laughing. I hear his 
 voice in the passage ; he wants me to go to a ball at 
 Sheffield, and is talking to me as I write. Good night. 
 I am m the act of praising his pamphlet. 
 
 I don't half like your story of Corinne, some day I will 
 tell you why, if I can, but at present, good night. 
 
 Newstead Abbey, October \Oth, 1813. 
 
 My dear L^ M., — I write to you from the melancholy 
 mansion of my fathers, where I am dull as the 
 
 ^ At this very moment Byron was making arrangements to lend 
 Webster £1,000. Letters and Journals, ii. 275.
 
 194 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 longest deceased of my progenitors. I hate reflec- 
 tion on irrevocable things, and won't now turn senti- 
 mentalist. 
 
 [Webster] alone accompanied me here (I return to- 
 morrow to [Aston]). He is now sitting opposite ; 
 and between us are red and white Cham[pagn]e, 
 Burgundy, two sorts of Claret, and lighter vintages, 
 the relics of my youthful cellar, which is yet in formid- 
 able number and famous order. But I leave the wine 
 to him, and prefer conversing soberly with you. 
 
 Ah ! if you knew what a quiet Mussulman life 
 (except in wine) I led her© for a few years. But no 
 matter. 
 
 Yesterday I sent you a long letter, and must recur 
 to the same subject which is uppermost in my thoughts. 
 I am as much astonished, but I hope not so much 
 mistaken, as Lord Ogleby ^ at the denouement or rather 
 commencement of the last week. It has changed my 
 views, my wishes, my hopes, my everything, and will 
 furnish you with additional proof of my weakness. 
 Mine guest (late host) has just been congratulating him- 
 self on possessing a partner without passion. I don't 
 know, and cannot yet speak with certainty, but I never 
 yet saw more decisive preliminary symptoms. 
 
 As I am apt to take people at their word, on receiving 
 my answer, that whatever the weakness of her heart 
 might be, I should never derive further proof of it than 
 the confession, instead of pressing the point, I told her 
 that I was willing to be hers on her own terms, and should 
 never attempt to infringe upon the conditions. I said 
 this without pique, and believing her perfectly in earnest 
 for the time ; but in the midst of our mutual profes- 
 sions, or, to use her own expression, "more than mutual," 
 she bursts into an agony of crying, and at such a time, 
 and in such a place, as rendered such a scene particularly 
 
 1 The Clandestine Marriage. Lord Ogleby, after being dressed for 
 the occasion, made his bow to Fanny Sterling, and promised to 
 make her a Countess. To his annoyance and profound astonishment, 
 he was informed that she had been privately married to Lovewell 
 for four months. Colraan and Garrick, 17G6.
 
 1813] NEWSTEAD— ASTON 195 
 
 perilous to both — her sister in the next room, and 
 [her husband] not far off. Of course I said and did 
 almost everything proper on the occasion, and fortu- 
 nately we restored sunshine in time to prevent anyone 
 from perceiving the cloud that had darkened our 
 horizon. 
 
 She says she is convinced that my own declaration 
 was produced solely because I perceived her previous 
 penchant, which by-the-bye, as I thinlc I said to you 
 before, I neither perceived nor expected. I really 
 did not suspect her of a predilection for anyone, and 
 even now in public, with the exception of those little 
 indirect, yet mutually understood — I don't know how 
 and it is unnecessary to name, or describe them — her 
 conduct is as coldly correct as her still, fair, Mrs. L[amb]- 
 like aspect. 
 
 She, however, managed to give me a note and to 
 receive another, and a ring before [Webster's] very face, 
 and yet she is a thorough devotee, and takes prayers, 
 morning and evening, besides being measured for a 
 new Bible once a quarter. 
 
 The only alarming thing is that [Webster] complains 
 of her aversion from being beneficial to population and 
 posterity. If this is an invariable maxim, I shall lose 
 my labour. Be this as it may, she owns to more than 
 I ever heard from any woman within the time, and 
 I shan't take [Webster's] word any more for her 
 feelings than I did for that celestial comparison, which 
 I once mentioned. I think her eye, her change of 
 colour, and the trembling of her hand, and above all 
 her devotion, tell a different tale. 
 
 Good night. We return to-morrow, and now I 
 drink your health ; you are my only correspondent, 
 and I believe friend. 
 
 Ever yours, B. 
 
 [Aston, Monday] October 11th, 1813. 
 
 My dear L°^ M., — C[aroline] is angry with me 
 for having written by the post not a very cold letter, 
 but below (it seems) her freezmg point ; pray say some- 
 1—14
 
 196 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 thing — anything to prevent any of the old absurdities. 
 Her letter arrived during my absence at N[ewstead] 
 with a never sufficiently to be confounded seal, with 
 C. at full length on the malignant wax ; this must 
 have been to answer the purpose it effected ; at any 
 rate, the person who opened the hag was the last I 
 wished to see the impression, and it is not yet effaced, 
 but it shall be — this is not to be endured. That 
 my " chienne of a star," as Captain Raggado says, 
 should have produced such an incident, and at such 
 a time ! 
 
 I have written to you so much, and so frequently, 
 that you must be sick of the sight of my scrawls, I 
 believe all the stars are no better than they should be. 
 [Webster] is on the verge of a precious scrape, his 
 quondam tutor / and ally, who has done him some not 
 very reputable services since his marriage, writing, 
 I believe his billets, and assisting him to those to 
 whom they were addressed, being now discarded, 
 threatens a development, etc. [Webster] consults me 
 on the subject ! Of this I shall take no advantage in 
 another quarter, however convenient ; if I gain my 
 pomt it shall be as fairly as such things will admit. 
 It is odd enough that his name has never hitherto been 
 taken in vain by her or me. I have told him that 
 if the discovery is inevitable, his best way is to antici- 
 pate it, and sue for an act of indemnity : if she likes 
 him she will forgive, and if she don't like him, it don't 
 matter whether she does or no. 
 
 From me she shall never hear of it. 
 
 It is three in the morning, and I cannot rest, but I 
 must try. I have been at N[ewstead] and between that 
 and this my mind is in a state of chaotic inaction ; 
 but you won't pity me, and I don't deserve it. Was 
 there ever such a slave to impulse 
 
 As y" ever, B. ? 
 
 Monday Afternoon [11 Oct.} 
 
 I am better to-day, but not much advanced. I 
 began the week so well that I thought the conclusion
 
 1813] LADY FRANCES WEBSTER 197 
 
 would have been more decisive. But the topography 
 of this house is not the most favourable. I wonder 
 how my father managed ; but he had it not till 
 L^ Carmarthen came with it too.* We shall be at 
 Newstead again, the whole party for a week, in a few 
 days, and there the genii of the place will be perhaps 
 more propitious. He haunts me — here he is again, 
 and here are a party of purple stockings come to dine. 
 Oh, that accursed pamphlet ! I have not read it ; what 
 shall I say to the author, now in the room ? Thank the 
 stars which I yesterday abused, he is diverted by the 
 mirror opposite, and is now surveying with great com- 
 placency himseK — he is gone ! 
 
 Your letter has arrived, but it is evidently written 
 before my last three have been delivered. Adieu, for 
 the present. I must dress, and have got to sheer one 
 of those precious curls on which you say I set so high 
 a value ; and I cannot, and would not, play the same 
 pass you may laughingly remember on a similar 
 occasion with C. My proseljrte is so young a beginner 
 that you won't wonder at these exchanges and mum- 
 meries. You are right, she is " very pretty," and not 
 so inanimate as I imagined, and must at least be 
 allowed an excellent taste ! ! 
 
 10 o'clock. 
 
 Nearly a scene (always nearly) at dinner. There is 
 a Lady Sitwell, a wit and blue ; and, what is more to 
 the purpose, a dark, tall, fierce-looking, conversable 
 personage. As it is usual to separate the women at 
 table, I was under the necessity of placing myself 
 between her and the sister, and was seated, and in the 
 agonies of conjecture whether the dish before me required 
 carving, when my little Platonist exclaimed, " L"^ Byron, 
 this is your place." I stared, and before I had time to 
 reply, she repeated, looking like C, when gentle (for she 
 is very unlike that fair creature when angry), " L*^ 
 
 ^ Byron's father at one time lived at Aston Hall, Rotherham, 
 the house in which Byron then found himself as the guest of Wed- 
 derburn Webster,
 
 198 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 Byron, change places with Catherine."^ I did, and 
 very willingly, though awkwardly ; but " the Moor " 
 (mine host) roared out, " B[yron], that is the most 
 ungallant thing I ever beheld." Lady Catherine by 
 way of mending matters, answered, " Did you not hear 
 Frances ask him ? " He has looked like the Board of 
 Green Cloth ever since, and is now mustering wine and 
 spirits for a lecture to her, and a squabble with me ; 
 he had better let it alone, for I am in a pestilent 
 humour at this present writmg, and shall certainly 
 disparage his eternal " pamphlet.'' 
 
 Good even. I solicit your good wishes in all good 
 deeds, and your occasional remembrance. 
 
 October Uth, 1813. 
 
 My dear L"^ M., — You must pardon the quantity 
 of my letters, and much of the quality also, but 
 I have really no other confidential correspondent 
 on earth, and much to say which may call forth the 
 advice which has so often been to me of essential 
 service. Anything, you will allow, is better than the 
 last ; and I cannot exist without some object of attach- 
 ment. You will laugh at my perpetual changes, but 
 recollect, the circumstances which have broken off 
 the last and don't exactly attribute their conclusion 
 to caprice. I think you will at least admit, whatever 
 C. may assert, that I did not use her ill, though I find 
 her own story, even in this part of the world, to be the 
 genuine narrative ; as to 1/ O., that I did to please 
 you, and luckily, finding it pleasant to myself also, 
 and very useful to C, it might have lasted longer, but 
 for the voyage. I spare you the third. 
 
 I am so spoilt by intellectual drams that I begin to 
 believe that danger and dijficidty render these things 
 more piquant to my taste. As far as the former goes, 
 C, might have suited me very well, but though we 
 may admire drams, nobody is particularly fond of 
 
 ^ Lady Catherine Annesley, a sister of Lady Frances, afterwards 
 married Lord John Somerset, son of the Duke of Beaufort.
 
 1813] LADY FRANCES WEBSTER 199 
 
 aqua fortis ; at least, I should have liked it a little 
 diluted, the liquid I believe which is now slowly ming- 
 ling in my cup. 
 
 In the meantime, let us laugh while we can, for I see 
 no reason why you should be tormented with senti- 
 mental or solid sorrows of your acquaintance. 
 
 I think you will allow that I have as little of that 
 affectation as any person of similar pursuits. 
 
 I mentioned to you yesterday a laughable occurrence 
 at dinner. This morning he burst forth with a homily 
 upon the subject to the two and myself, instead of 
 taking us separately (like the last of the Horatii with 
 the Curiatii). You will easily suppose with such 
 odds he had the worst of it, and the satisfaction of 
 being laughed at into the bargain. 
 
 Serious as I am, I really cannot frequently keep 
 my countenance : yesterday, before my face, they 
 disputed about their apartments at N[ewstead], she 
 insisting that her sister should share her room, and he 
 very properly, but heinously out of place, maintaining, 
 and proving to his own satisfaction, that none but 
 husbands have any legal claim to divide their spouse's 
 pillow. You may suppose, notwithstanding the ludi- 
 crous effect of the scene, I felt and looked a little 
 uncomfortable ; this she must have seen — for, of course, 
 I said not a word — and turning round at the close of 
 the dialogue, she whispered, " N'importe, this is all 
 nothing," an ambiguous sentence which I am puzzled 
 to translate ; but, as it was meant to console me, I was 
 very glad to hear it, though quite unintelligible. 
 
 As far as I can pretend to judge of her disposition 
 and character — I will say, of course, I am partial — 
 she is, you know, very handsome, and very gentle, 
 though sometimes decisive ; fearfully romantic, and 
 singularly warm in her affections ; but I should think 
 of a cold temperament, yet I have my doubts on that 
 point, too ; accomplished (as all decently educated 
 women are), and clever, though her style a little too 
 German ; no dashing nor desperate talker, but never 
 — ^and I have watched in mixed conversation — saying
 
 200 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 a silly thing {duet dialogues in course between young 
 and Platonic people must be varied with a little 
 chequered absurdity) ; good tempered (always except- 
 ing L'' 0[xford], which was, outwardly, the hest I ever 
 beheld), and jealous as myself — the ne plus ultra of 
 green-eyed monstrosity ; seldom abusing other people, 
 but listening to it with great patience. These qualifi- 
 cations, with an unassuming and sweet voice, and very 
 soft manner, constitute the bust (all I can yet pretend 
 to model) of my present idol. 
 
 You, who know me and my weakness so well, will 
 not be surprised when I say that I am totally absorbed 
 in this passion — that I am even ready to take a fligM 
 if necessary, and as she says, " We cannot part," it is 
 no impossible denouement — though as yet one of us 
 at least does not think of it. W. will probably want to 
 cut my throat, which would not be a difificult task, for 
 I trust I should not return the fire of a man I had 
 injured, though I could not refuse him the pleasure of 
 trying me as a target.* But I am not sure I shall not 
 have more work in that way. There is a friend in the 
 house who looks a little suspicious ; he can only con- 
 jecture, but if he lagonizes, or finds, or makes mischief, 
 let him look to it. To W[ebster] I am decidedly wrong, 
 yet he almost provoked me into it — he loves other 
 women ; at least he follows them ; she evidently did 
 not love him, even before. 
 
 I came here with no plan, no intention of the kind 
 as my former letters will prove to you (the only person 
 to whom I care about proving it) and have not yet been 
 here ten days — a week yesterday, on recollection : 
 you cannot be more astonished than I am how, and why 
 all this has happened. 
 
 All my correspondences, and every other business, 
 are at a standstill ; I have not answered A., no, nor 
 B., nor C, nor any initial except your own,* you will 
 
 1 See Letters and Journals, ii. 323. 
 
 2 In support of this statement we may here mention that no letters 
 from Byron between 12 Oct. and 8 Nov, 1813 have as yet been 
 discovered.
 
 1813] SIR W. W. WEBSTER 201 
 
 wish me to be less troublesome to that one, and I shall 
 now begin to draw at longer dates upon y' patience. 
 
 Ever yours, B. 
 
 P.S. — always P.S. I begged you to pacify C, who 
 is pettish about what she calls a cold letter ; it was not 
 so, but she evidently has been too long quiet ; she 
 threatens me with growing very bad, and says that if 
 so, "I am the sole cause," This I should regret, but 
 she is in no danger ; no one in his senses will run the 
 risk, till her late exploits are forgotten. Her last I shall 
 not answer ; it was very silly in me to write at all ; 
 but I did it with the best intention, like the Wiseacre in 
 " The Rovers," — " Let us by a song conceal our pur- 
 poses," you remember in the " Anti- Jacobin." I have 
 gone through a catechism about her, without abusing 
 or betraying her ; this is not exactly the way to 
 recommend myself ; I have generally found that the 
 successor likes to hear both of the last regnante. But 
 I really did not, notwithstanding the temptation. 
 
 October 14</», 1813. 
 
 But this is " le premier pas," my dear 1/ M., at least 
 I think so, and perhaps you wUl be of my opinion when 
 you consider the age, the country, and the short time 
 since such fas became probable ; I believe little but 
 " r occasion manque," and to that many things are 
 tending. He [Webster] is a little indiscreet blusterer 
 who neither knows what he would have, nor what he 
 deserves. To-day at breakfast (I was too late for the 
 scene) he attacked both the girls in such a manner, no 
 one knew why, or wherefore, that one had left the 
 room, and the other had half a mind to leave the house ; 
 this too before servants, and the other guest ! On 
 my appearance the storm blew over, but the narrative 
 was detailed to me subsequently by one of the sufferers. 
 You may be sure that I shall not " consider seZ/," nor 
 create a squabble while it can be avoided ; on the con- 
 trary I have been endeavouring to serve him essentially 
 (except on the one point, and there I was goaded into
 
 202 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 it by his own absurdities), and to extricate him from 
 some difficulties of various descriptions. Of course all 
 obligations are cancelled between two persons in our 
 circumstances, but that I shall not dwell upon ; of the 
 other I shall try to make an " affaire reglee " ; if that 
 don't succeed we shall probably go off somewhere to- 
 gether ; but she only shall make me resign the hope. 
 As for him he may convert his antlers into powder- 
 horns and welcome, and such he has announced as his 
 intention when " any man at any time, etc. etc.," " he 
 would not give him a chance, but exterminate him 
 without suffering defence." Do you know I was fool 
 enough to lose my temper at this circuitous specimen of 
 BobadU jealousy, and tell him and the other (there are 
 a brace, lion and jackal) that /, not their roundabout he, 
 desired no better than to put these " epithets of war," 
 with which their sentences were " horribly stuffed," 
 to the proof. This was silly and suspicious, but my 
 liver could bear it no longer. 
 
 My poor little Helen tells me that there never was 
 such a temper and talents, that the marriage was not 
 one of attachment, that — in short, my descriptions fade 
 before hers, all foolish fellows are alike, but this has a 
 patent for his cap and bells. 
 
 The scene between Sir B. and Lovemore I remember, 
 but the one I alluded to was the letter of Lovemore to 
 L/ Constant 1 — there is no comedy after all like real life. 
 We have progressively improved into a less spiritual 
 species of tenderness, but the seal is not yet fixed, 
 though the wax is preparing for the impression. There 
 ought to be an excellent occasion to-morrow ; but who 
 can command circumstances ? The most we can do 
 is to avail ourselves of them. 
 
 Publicly I have been cautious enough, and actually 
 declined a dinner where they went, because I thought 
 something intelligible might be seen or suspected. I 
 regretted, but regret it less, for I hear one of the 
 Fosters was there, and they be cousins and gossips of 
 
 1 The Way to keep Him, by A. Murphy, 1760.
 
 1813] THE WEBSTERS AT NEWSTEAD 203 
 
 our good friends the D.'s. Good-night. Do you 
 fear to write to me ? Are these epistles, or your answers 
 in any peril here ? I must remember, however, the 
 advice of a sage personage to me while abroad — take 
 it in their English — " Remember, mUor, that delicaci 
 ensure every succes." 
 
 Y" ever, B. 
 
 Newstead Abbey, October 11th, 1813. 
 
 My DEAR Lady M., — The whole party are here 
 — and now to my narrative. But first I must tell 
 you that I am rather unwell, owing to a foUy of last 
 night. About midnight, after deep and drowsy pota- 
 tions, I took it into my head to empty my skull cup, 
 which holds rather better than a bottle of claret, at 
 one draugJd, and nearly died the death of Alexander — 
 which I shall be content to do when I have achieved his 
 conquests. I had just sense enough left to feel that 
 I was not fit to join the ladies, and went to bed, where, 
 my valet tells me, that I was first convulsed, and after- 
 wards so motionless, that he thought, " Good night to 
 Marmion." I don't know how I came to do so very 
 sUly a thing ; but I believe my guests were boasting, 
 and " company, villainous company, hath been the 
 spoil of me." I detest drinking in general, and beg 
 your pardon for this excess. I ca7iH do so any more. 
 
 To my theme. You were right. I have been a little 
 too sanguine as to the conclusion — but hear. One day, 
 left entirely to ourselves, was nearly fatal — another such 
 victory, and with Pyrrhus we were lost — it came to this. 
 " I am entirely at your mercy. I own it. I give myself 
 up to you. I am not cold — whatever I seem to others ; 
 but I know that I cannot bear the reflection hereafter. 
 Do not imagine that these are mere words. I tell you 
 the truth — now act as you wUl." Was I wrong ? 
 I spared her. There was a something so very peculiar 
 in her manner — a kind of mild decision — no scene — 
 not even a struggle ; but still I know not what, that 
 convinced me that she was serious. It was not the 
 mere " No,^' which one has heard forty times before.
 
 204 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 and always with the same accent ; but the toney 
 and the aspect — yet I sacrificed much — the hour two 
 in the morning— away — the Devil whispering that it 
 was mere verbiage, etc. And yet I know not whether 
 I can regret it — she seems so very thankful for my 
 forbearance — a proof, at least, that she was not playing 
 merely the usual decorous reluctance, which is some- 
 times so tiresome on these occasions. 
 
 You ask if I am prepared to go " all lengths." If 
 you mean by " all lengths " anything including duel, 
 or divorce ? I answer, Yes. I love her. If I did not, 
 and much too, I should have been more selfish on the 
 occasion before mentioned. I have offered to go away 
 with her, and her answer, whether sincere or not, ia 
 " that on my account she declines it." In the mean- 
 time we are all as wretched as possible ; he scolding on 
 account of unaccountable melancholy ; the sister very 
 suspicious, but rather amused — the friend very suspi- 
 cious too (why I know not), not at all amused — U 
 Marito something like Lord Chesterfield in De Gram- 
 mont, putting on a martial physiognomy, prating with 
 his worthy ally ; swearing at servants, sermonizing 
 both sisters ; and buying sheep ; but never quitting 
 her side now ; so that we are in despair. / am very 
 feverish, restless, and silent, as indeed seems to be 
 the tacit agreement of everyone else. In short I can 
 foresee nothing — it may end in nothing ; but here are 
 half a dozen persons very much occupied, and two, 
 if not three, in great perplexity ; and, as far as I can 
 judge, so we must continue. 
 
 She don't and won't live with him, and they have been 
 so far separate for a long time ; therefore I have nothing 
 to answer for on that point. Poor thing — she is either 
 the most artful or artless of her age (20) I ever encoun- 
 tered. She owns to so much, and perpetually says, 
 " Rather than you should be angry," or " Rather than 
 you shoiild like anyone else, I will do whatever you 
 please " ; "I won't speak to this, that, or the other if 
 you dislike it," and throws, or seems to throw, herself 
 so entirely upon my discretion in every respect, that it
 
 1813] AN AWKWARD SITUATION 205 
 
 disarms me quite ; but I am really wretched with the 
 perpetual conflict with myself. Her health is so very 
 delicate ; she is so thin and pale, and seems to have lost 
 her appetite so entirely, that I doubt her living much 
 longer. This is also her own opinion. But these fancies 
 are common to aU who are not very happy ; if she 
 were once my wife, or likely to be so, a warm climate 
 should be the first resort, nevertheless, for her recovery. 
 
 The most perplexing — and yet I can't prevail upon 
 myself to give it up — is the caressing system. In her 
 it appears perfectly chUdish, and I do think innocent ; 
 but it reaUy puzzles aU the Scipio about me to confine 
 myself to the laudable portion of these endearments. 
 
 What a cursed situation I have thrust myself into ! 
 Potiphar (it used to be 0[xford]'s name) putting some 
 stupid question to me the other day, I told him that 
 I rather admired the sister, and what does he ? but 
 tell her this ; and his wife too, who a little too hastily 
 asked him "if he was mad ? " which put him to 
 demonstration that a man ought not to be asked if he 
 was mad, for relating that a friend thought his wife's 
 sister a pretty woman. Upon this topic he held forth 
 with great fervour for a customary period. I wish he 
 had a quinsey. 
 
 TeU L[or]d H[ollan]d that Clarke is the name, and 
 Craven Street (No. forgotten) the residence — may be 
 heard of at Trin. Coll. — excellent man — able physician — 
 shot a friend m a duel (about his sister) and I believe 
 killed him professionally afterwards. L*^ H. may have 
 him for self or friends. I don't know where I am going 
 — my mind is a chaos. I always am setting aU upon 
 single stakes, and this is one. Your story of the French- 
 man Matta, in " Grammont," and the Marquis.* 
 Heigh ho ! Good night. Address to Aston. 
 
 Ever yrs., B. 
 
 P.S. My stay is quite uncertain — a moment may 
 overturn everythmg ; but you shall hear — happen 
 what may — nothing or something. 
 
 ^ Memoirs oj Count Orammont, vol i, chap. iv.
 
 206 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 [Newstead] October l^th, 1813. 
 
 My dear Lady M., — In a day or two, probably 
 before you receive this letter, I shall be in town, so 
 that if you write, let it be to Bennet Street. 
 
 This may perhaps surprise you after my yesterday's 
 epistle, but, nevertheless, nothing particular has 
 occurred, at least sufficient to alarm you, or disturb 
 me. Everjrthing is nearly as it was, except our hopes 
 and our spirits — many things interrupted — but nothing 
 termmated. 
 
 Do you remember Matta's complaint of the court of 
 Turm, where a man could not be m love with the wife 
 without making love to the husband too^ — or do you 
 rather recollect Hamilton's expedition to L*^ Chester- 
 field's with the result ? Mine is not exactly the same, 
 for I have mcurred no disgrace and encountered no peril, 
 but I hsjve thrown away the best opportunity that ever 
 was wasted upon a spoiled child, and when it may occur 
 again is not m my calculation. 
 
 You shall hear more when we meet ; at present I shall 
 only say, that Matta and the Marquis de Senantes 
 will furnish yea with a lively idea of me and my guest 
 (late host).^ I really can bear his humours no longer — 
 
 no, not for With her I am ready and willing to fly 
 
 to the " green earth's end " ; but of that anon. 
 
 We are in despair, and he and I without coming to 
 a downright quarrel, have yet subsided into a mortal 
 coldness, for which he wUl be the first to be sorry. 
 
 I hope to see you. 
 
 Ever yrs., B. 
 
 Northampton, October IQth, 1813. 
 
 My dear Lady M., — [Webster] and I are thus far 
 on our way to town — he was seized with a sudden fit 
 
 1 " Why," said Matta, " what a plaguy odd ceremony do you 
 require of us in this country if we cannot pay our compliments to the 
 wife without being in love with the husband ? " — Memoirs oj Count 
 Grammont, vol. i, p. 43, edition A. H. BuUen, 1903. 
 
 2 Memoirs oJ Count Grammont, vol. ii, chap, ix (ibid.).
 
 1813] THE WEBSTERS 207 
 
 of friendship, and would accompany me — or rather, 
 finding that some business could not conveniently be 
 done without me/ he thought proper to assume y^ 
 appearance of it. He is not exactly the companion 
 I wished to take ; it is really laughable when you think 
 of the other — a kind of pig in a poke. Nothing but 
 squabbles between them for the last three days, and 
 at last he rose up with a solemn and mysterious air, 
 and spake, " 1/ Frances, you have at last rendered 
 an explanation necessary between me and Ld. B[yron], 
 which must take place." I stared, and knowing that 
 it is the custom of country gentlemen (if Farquhar 
 is correct) to apprize their moieties of such intentions, 
 and being also a little out of humour and conscience, 
 I thought a crisis must ensue, and answered very 
 quietly that " he would find me in such a room at his 
 leisure ready to hear, and reply. " Oh ! " says he, "I 
 shall choose my own time." I wondered that he did not 
 choose his own house, too, but walked away, and waited 
 for him. All this mighty prelude led only to what he 
 called an explanation for my satisfaction, that whatever 
 appearances were, he and she were on the very best 
 terms, that she loved him so much, and he her, it was 
 impossible not to disagree upon tender points, and for 
 fear a man who, &c., &c., should suppose that marriage 
 was not the happiest of all possible estates, he had taken 
 this resolution of never quarrelling without letting me 
 know that he was the best husband, and most fortunate 
 person in existence. 
 
 I told him he had fully convmced me, that it was 
 utterly impossible people who liked each other could 
 behave with more interesting suavity — and so on. 
 Yesterday morning, on our going (I pass over the scene, 
 which shook me, I assure you), " B.," quoth he, "I 
 owe to you the most unhappy moments of my life." 
 I begged him to tell me how, that I might either sympa- 
 
 ^ They were conjointly to sign a bond for the loan of £1,000 made 
 by Byron to Webster. See letter to Hanson, 10 Oct. 1813. Letters 
 and Journals, ii. 275.
 
 208 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 thize, or put him out of his pain. " Don't you see how 
 the poor girl doats on me " (he replied) ; " when I quit 
 her but for a week, as you perceive, she is absolutely 
 overwhelmed, and you stayed so long, and I necessarily 
 for you, that she is in a worse state than I ever saw her 
 in before, even before we married ! " 
 
 Here we are — I could not return to A[ston] unless he 
 had asked me — it is true he did, but in such a manner as 
 I should not accept. What will be the end, I know 
 not. I have left everjrthing to her, and would have 
 rendered all further flots superfluous by the most 
 conclusive step ; but she wavered, and escaped. Per- 
 haps so have I — at least it is as well to think so — yet it 
 is not over. 
 
 Whatever I may feel, you know me too well to think 
 I shall plague my friends with long faces or elegies. 
 My dear Lady M., Yours, B. 
 
 October 2\st, 1813. 
 
 My dear L"^ M., — You may well be surprised, but 
 I had more reasons than one or two. Either [Webster] 
 had taken it into his notable head, or wished to put 
 it into mine, aye, and worse still, into y® girls, also ; 
 that I was a pretendant to the hand of the sister ' 
 of " the Lady " whom I had nearly — but no matter 
 — (to continue Archer's speech with the variation of 
 one word) " 'tis a cursed fortnight's piece of work, and 
 there's an end." This brilliant notion, besides widening 
 y* breach between him and me, did not add to the 
 harmony of the two females ; at least my idol was 
 not pleased with the prospect of any transfer of incense 
 to another altar. 
 
 She was so unguarded, after telling me too fifty times 
 to "take care of Catherine," " that she could conceal 
 nothing, &c., &c.," as to give me a very unequivocal 
 proof of her own imprudence, in a carriage — (dusk to 
 be sure) before her face — and yet with all this, and much 
 more, she was the most tenacious personage either from 
 
 * Lady Catherine Annesley.
 
 1813] THE WEBSTERS 209 
 
 fear, or weakness, or delicate health, or G — d knows 
 what, that with the vigilance of no less than three 
 Arguses in addition, it was utterly impossible, save once, 
 to be decisive — and then — tears and tremors and prayers, 
 which I am not yet old enough to find piquant in such 
 cases, prevented me from making her wretched. I do 
 detest anything which is not perfectly mutual, and any 
 subsequent reproaches (as I know by one former long 
 ago bitter experience) would heap coals of fire upon my 
 head. Do you remember what Rousseau says to some- 
 body, " If you would know that you are beloved, watch 
 your lover when he leaves you " — to me the most 
 pleasing moments have generally been, when there is 
 nothing more to be required ; in short, the subsequent 
 repose without satiety — which Lewis never dreamed 
 of in that poem of his, " Desire and Pleasure " — when 
 you are secure of the past, yet without regret or dis- 
 appointment ; of this there was no prospect with 
 her, she had so much more dread of the d — 1, than 
 gratitude for his kindness ; and I am not yet suj0&ciently 
 in his good graces to indulge my own passions at the 
 certain misery of another. Perhaps after all, I was her 
 dupe — if so — I am the dupe also of the few good feelings 
 I could ever boast of, but here perhaps I am my own 
 dupe too, in attributing to a good motive what may be 
 quite otherwise. 
 
 [Webster] is a most extraordinary person ; he has 
 just left me, and a snuff-box with a flaming inscription, 
 after squabbling with me for these last ten days ! and 
 I too, have been of some real service to him, which 
 I merely mention to mark the inconsistency of human 
 nature. * 
 
 I have brought off a variety of foolish trophies (foolish 
 indeed without victory), such as epistles, and lockets, 
 which look as if she were in earnest ; but she would not 
 go off now, nor render going off unnecessary. Am I 
 not candid to own my want of success, when I might 
 have assumed the airs of an " aimable Vainqueur " ? 
 
 1 Byron had lent Webster £1,000.
 
 210 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 but that is so paltry and so common — without cause, 
 too ; and what I hear, and see every day, that I would 
 not, even to gain the point I have missed. I assure 
 you no one knows but you one particle of this business, 
 and you always must loiow everything concerning me. 
 It is hard if I may not have one friend. Believe me, 
 none will ever be so valued, and none ever was so 
 trusted, by 
 
 Yours ever, B. 
 
 October 23rd, 1813. 
 
 My dear L^ M., — C. again ! Will you pray tell 
 her that I was only in town a day before she left it, 
 and that if it were otherwise it must be long ago 
 perfectly understood between her and me and everyone 
 else, that it could have made no difference. I wrote 
 to her a kind and a friendly letter, and regret that it 
 has displeased her. I know no more, and can say no 
 further, but do most humbly hope she will leave me 
 to my own reflections ; and as a further inducement, she 
 may rest assured that they are by no means agreeable 
 enough to render their disturbance a temptation. 
 One of your A[ston] letters has arrived, and the 
 other I doubt not will follow. I wish he would 
 open a letter of mine, but he dare not. I am not 
 sorry for this business, were it only on account of 
 your epistles, which I do think the most amusing, 
 the most developing, and tactiques in the world. 
 Come what may, I can hardly regret the un- 
 toward events which led to an intimacy productive 
 to me of much instruction, and not less intellectiml 
 pleasure ; you have preserved me from two, one eventu- 
 ally and the other had been immediately fatal. I 
 cannot repay the obligation, but I may at least acknow- 
 ledge it ; and as the world goes, it is something not to 
 hate you for having done me so much service. If 
 W[ebster] is playing a part, he cannot, I know, long 
 keep it up. His marrying scheme, if premeditated, had 
 been an excellent way of turning the tables ; but it was 
 done too abruptly and awkwardly to succeed — there
 
 1813] •! IN SUSPENSE" 211 
 
 was no foundation for his edifice ; and if there had, I 
 would have blown it up about his ears, I prefer, if 
 in the regular way, choosing my own moiety ; though 
 truth to tell, he recommended a woman of virtue ; for 
 I heard her say, " that she never was in a warm bath 
 in her Hfe," a certain sign that the care of your truly 
 good woman is always confined to her soul. I don't 
 know if you ever saw her, ^ she is very pretty, but petite, 
 perhaps handsomer than the other, and I think more 
 mechante ; but in aU other respects Hke all other 
 young ladies of the market. 
 
 My Seaham correspondence has ceased on both sides,* 
 and I shall not renew it. I am in great suspense : 
 Marquis Tweeddale wants me to go with him to the 
 army, like Corporal Trim, " to wink and hold out mine 
 iron," I suppose. Madrid hath charms more than glory, 
 or mere curiosity, and a fit of ill humour or vanity 
 might or may lead me where " Honour comes unlooked 
 for " ; but, unless when in love or out of temper, my 
 chivalry is not from the most Gothic, though a box on 
 the ear from one sex, or a frown from the other might 
 possibly call it into action. A more pleasing expedition 
 would be to IMiddleton. I am asked next month, so 
 are you ; shall we go ? we — at least / — shall have 
 nothing to do, but probably something to observe and 
 communicate. I send you (return it) the only notice 
 since my departure : will you judge and augur from it 
 for me ? It puzzles me — ^you have more insight, and 
 are besides impartial. I have just sense enough left 
 to know that I cannot be so myself. 
 
 Your approbation of my Ethics on the subject 
 gratifies me much. When we are happy we are too 
 much occupied to be aware of its extent ; it is only 
 during the subsequent repose, the " abandon," that 
 you can discover even to yourself, if you have really 
 loved. If your thoughts recur to your own exclusive 
 
 1 Lady Catherine Armesley. 
 
 2 With Miss Milbanke. It was resumed on 10 Nov. See Letters 
 and Journals, iii. 404. 
 
 1—15
 
 212 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 situation, it is all over ; but if still occupied by the 
 other, I do not know whether the memory, and the ho'pe 
 are not worth all the rest. 
 
 It is difficult, and I have failed in expressing what I 
 mean : no matter, let it go. 
 
 You will be in town on Wednesday — a great consola- 
 tion to me. I am in the horrors of a hundred schemes, 
 of which I shall say nothing, till they are accomplished 
 or useless. Perhaps you will write on Monday. 
 
 Ever y", B. 
 
 Monday. 
 
 I had finished my letter, but tore half of it. To-day's 
 post has been hard in bringing me more than I have yet 
 had time to read twice, and your last Aston letter saje ; 
 but your Brocket one is a little savage. You hint at 
 my presumption ; but, after all, the " vielle cour," when 
 once people understand each other, is it not as well 
 to come to the point ? Yet you see (and I am glad you 
 approved it), I did (and it is no trifle) sacrifice the 
 selfish consideration to spare her self-reproach. I am 
 going to be guilty of a breach of confidence in sending 
 you the enclosed, though I cannot consider my trust 
 in you as betraying her ; if she is serious, so am I, 
 and as wilhng as ever to go through with the business. 
 The letter merely says what you already know ; and 
 all women (except ll 0. and Mrs. S[pencer] S[mith]) 
 in that situation seem to have much the same style, 
 except that my little white penitent appears rather 
 more bewildered, and uses two words, " effusions," 
 and " soul," rather oftener than befits out of the 
 circulating library. You are not perhaps so just as 
 usual in prophesying " not to the purpose " — everything 
 a woman writes must be to the purpose ; no, as much 
 as yes. Once put a pen into their hands, and then 
 tell me when they will lay it down again ? 
 
 She mentions C, but not one word of you — a proof, 
 at least, that she knows nothing of my extreme reliance 
 and confidence in you. Perhaps you will think worse 
 of me for sending this — ^if I were not in earnest I should
 
 1813] SIR W. W. WEBSTER 213 
 
 not ; but I want your judgment about her, I can't 
 be impartial, and I again repeat, hut to you, her name 
 is never breathed. You are with " the illustrious," ' 
 which makes me tremble. I know she thinks ill of me, 
 and if you betray me she will think worse. I can 
 possibly have no anxiety about her good opinion, further 
 than as I am aware of her natural and unbounded 
 influence over your own. I am wrong ; but you really 
 wrong me too, if you do not suppose that I would 
 sacrifice everything for Ph — . I hate sentiment, and 
 in consequence my epistolary levity makes you beheve 
 me as hollow and heartless as my letters are Hght. 
 Indeed, it is not so ; and I think my unbounded rehance 
 on you (my natural enemy) may prove it. I don't 
 fear you ; no, notwithstanding all, and yet if I were 
 reduced to the alternative of losing your friendship or 
 any other person's love, our platonics would triumph. 
 
 Ever yours, B. 
 
 P.S. — ^Poor Robinson ! it must be very ill-convenient 
 to you this fracture. 
 
 In your Aston letter you say the Jackal must be in 
 love too. I did not think so ; but nevertheless gave 
 W[ebster] a hint about those " Joseph Surface gentle- 
 men," and asked him what he should have thought of 
 me if, after our long acquaintance, I had suddenly 
 commenced talking moralist, 
 
 W[ebster] at last almost went down on his knees to 
 prevent an explanation between us, and used this odd 
 expression — " If not for my sake, for that of 17 F[rances] 
 do not quarrel. I never will forgive you, nor will she, 
 if there is any scene on what passed at N[ewstead]." 
 These were nearly his last words ; but if he renews his 
 tricks, or has views of his own, I will revenge, or perish 
 in the attempt. " In love ! " how came I not to think 
 so before ? but he has left A[ston], If I am not even 
 with him, never trust me, — a man, too, whom I did 
 much to conciliate, and who dissembled to me with 
 some success, 
 
 ^ Probably Lady Cowper.
 
 214 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 November Uh, 1813. 
 
 My dear Friend, — ^I lose no time in assuring you 
 that I not only am not, but never have been for an 
 instant, in the least pettish about you. The other 
 night at the play I was merely " buffooning," and I 
 really thought you knew me well enough to perceive 
 this. Angry, quotha ! I am a pretty feUow to be 
 angry with anybody, and least of all with you. 
 
 For the last three days I have been quite shut up ; 
 my mind has been from late and later events in such a 
 state of fermentation, that as usual I have been obliged 
 to empty it in rhyme, and am in the very heart of 
 another Eastern tale * — something of the Oiaour cast 
 — but not so sombre, though rather more villainous. 
 This is my usual resource ; if it were not for some such 
 occupation to dispel reflection during inaction, I verily 
 believe I should very often go mad. 
 
 I have heard from Ph.^ ; she is very angry at me for 
 Twt writing (after teUing me it was impossible without 
 ruining her), and supposes that I must have told 
 everybody her adventures, and is particularly afraid 
 that / — I by myself — I should confide it to W. W. ! ! ! 
 Was there ever such a fancy ? teU a man that I wanted 
 it is really laughable. 
 
 C. has been playing the devil about some engravings 
 and fooleries. WiU she never be quiet till she is in the 
 round-house with her Sieur Henri, who it seems is a 
 great villain, and her particular protege — at least, so 
 you said to me. 
 
 Good-night, my dear L[ady] M[elbourne], Buona- 
 parte has lost all his alhes but me and the King of 
 Wirtemburg. Do you remember Wolsey, " I and 
 my king ? " No matter, my alliance is quite as useful 
 as that of Bavaria. 
 
 Ever yours, B, 
 
 November 22nd, 1813. 
 
 My dear L^ M., — C[aroline] has at last done a 
 very good-natured thing ; she sent me Holmes's 
 ^ Bride of Abydos. ' Lady Frances Webster.
 
 1813] LADY HOLLAND 215 
 
 picture for a friend leaving England, to which friend 
 it is now making the best of its way. 
 
 You do not go to M[iddleton] till 28th, and I shall 
 procrastinate accordingly. 
 
 Yesterday the Lady Ossulstone sent for me to com- 
 plain of you all. We had met at L*^ Holland's the 
 night before, and she asserted that the " extreme 
 gravity of countenance " made her and L*^ 0. believe 
 that I had some whim about that slip of the -pen-knije 
 of C.'s and the consequent rumours, &c., &c., and some 
 resentment about her in particular ; to all of which 
 I pleaded ignorance and innocence. She says Lady 
 Blarney is a very noxious person, and hates her, and 
 that none of you have taken the least notice of her 
 since ; that she is the most discreet of women, to prove 
 which she produced an epistle of L^ Somebody's, 
 wondering (it was but three hours after) she had not 
 already written a fuU and true account of it to her ! ! 
 I thought I should have laughed in her pretty black 
 face — and, in short, we are aU very repulsive sort of 
 persons, and have not behaved well to her, nor anybody 
 else. 
 
 Remember all this (hke aU our this-es) is entre nous ; 
 and so there is an end of the matter. We had had a 
 kind of squabble at the Argyle, which I could not help 
 tormenting her a little by reminding her, not of that, 
 but that evening, when we were all wrong-paired. 
 She wanted to sit by INIildmay at supper, and I wanted 
 to have been next that Kashmeer Butterfly of the 
 " Blues " — Lady Charlemont — or in short, anybody 
 but a person who had serious concerns to think of. 
 Everybody else was coupled much in the same way ; 
 in short, Noah's ark upset had been but a type of the 
 pairing of our supper-table. L^ HoUand and I go on 
 very weU ; her unqualified praises of you, proving 
 their sincerity ! She is the first woman I ever 
 heard praise another entirely, \J B[essborough] had 
 better let us remain undisturbed, for if \J H[olland] 
 thinks that it annoys her there will be no end to y^ 
 intimacy. I have taken the half-weeks (3 days in
 
 216 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 each) of Lord Salisbury's box at Covent Garden, and 
 there, when C. is in town, we can always talk for an 
 hour on emergency. 
 
 The occasional oddity of Ph.'s letters has amused me 
 much. The simplicity of her cunning, and her exqui- 
 site reasons. She vindicates her treachery to [Webster] 
 thus : after condemning deceit in general, and hers in 
 particular, she says : " but then remember it is to 
 deceive ' un marito,^ and to prevent aU the unpleasant 
 consequences, &c., &c," ; and she says this in perfect 
 persuasion that she has a full conception of the " fitness 
 of things," and the " beauty of virtue," and " the 
 social compact," as Philosopher Square has it. Again, 
 she desires me to write to him kiifhdly, for she beheves 
 he cares for nobody but me ! Besides, she wiU then 
 hear o/ when she can't hear \rom me. Is not all this 
 a comedy ? Next to L*^ Ossulstone's voucher for her 
 discretion, it has enlivened my ethical studies on the 
 human mind beyond 50 volumes. How admirably 
 we accommodate our reasons to our wishes ! 
 
 She concludes by denominating that respectable man 
 Argus, a very irreverent appellation. If we can both 
 hold out till spring, perhaps he may have occasion for 
 his optics. After all " it is to deceive tin marito." 
 Does not this expression convey to you the strongest 
 mixture of right and wrong ? A reaUy guilty person 
 could not have used it, or rather they would, hut in 
 different words, I find she has not the hut, and that 
 makes much difference if you consider it. The ex- 
 perienced would have said it is " only deceiving him,^^ 
 thinking of themselves. She makes a merit of it on his 
 account and mine. 
 
 The Dutch have taken Holland,^ and got Bernadotte 
 and Orange, the Stork and King Log at once, in their 
 froggery. 
 
 Ever f, B. 
 
 1 In 1813 the Dutch joined the general revolt against Napoleon, 
 declared the independence of Holland, and elected William, Prince 
 of Orange, as a constitutional sovereign. Bernadotte, now King 
 of Sweden, bad also joined the allies against his old master.
 
 1813] LADY FRANCES WEBSTER 217 
 
 I must quote to you correctly — " How easily man- 
 kind are deceived. May he he always deceived ! and 
 I, alas, am the base instrument of deception ; but 
 in this instance concealment is not a crime, for it 
 preserves the peace of ' d'un marito ' : the contrary 
 would," &c. I have been arguing on wrong premises ; 
 but no matter, the marked lines are quite as good. 
 
 November 25th, 1813. 
 
 My dear L"^^ IVP,— Thanks by the thousand for 
 your letter. I have lately been leading a whimsical 
 life. Tuesday I dined with Ward,^ and met Canning 
 and aU the wits; and yesterday I dined with the 
 patrons of pugilism, and some of the professors, who 
 amused me almost as much. 
 
 I wrote to C. a very earnest, but not savage letter. 
 I believe the obnoxious sentence was, " If after this 
 you refuse I hope you will forgive yourself, for I fear 
 I cannot " ; all the rest was merely entreaty. The 
 picture is, however, God knows where ; they have now, 
 that is four (the Mussulman legal allotment) one 
 picture a-piece, and as many originals of other people 
 as they please in the interim. I had no idea C. would 
 have restored it, but it was very kind, and I am very 
 much obliged to her. 
 
 It is strange that Ph.'s greatest dread appears to be 
 discovery, and yet she is perpetually as it were con- 
 triving everything to lead to it — she writes ; makes me 
 answer through an address to a third person whom she 
 has not trusted ; of course their curiosity will not be 
 the least excited by being made an involuntary Post 
 Office ! Then she would not rest till she had this 
 picture sent in the same way,^ and the odds are, 
 particularly with such a person as [Webster], that he 
 has, or will in some manner stumble on something 
 incontrovertible, and out of which she can't " conceal " 
 herself (as she calls it), that is, in other words, invent 
 an excuse. To say the truth I am not very imwilling 
 
 1 Honourable John Ward, afterwards Lord Dudley. 
 3 See BjTon's Journal, Letters and Journals, ii. 350.
 
 218 LETTERS TO LADY MELBOURNE [ch. iv 
 
 that this should be the case, as it will hasten a crisis of 
 some kind or other. 
 
 His first impulse will be probably martial, but if I 
 have a motive I don't mind that, it will at least leave her 
 for the survivor, and the survived won't feel the want 
 of her ; besides, in my case it would be so dramatic a 
 conclusion ; all the sex would be enamoured of my 
 memory, all the wits would have their jests, and the 
 moralists their sermon. C. would go wUd with grief 
 that it did 7iot happen ahout her. 17 0[xfor]d would say 
 
 I deserved it for not coming to Cagliari — and — poor 
 
 she would be really uncomfortable. Do you know I am 
 much afraid that that perverse passion was my deepest 
 after all. Well, suppose he should not take the angry 
 road — at least with me, it then comes to a point 
 between her and him : " Give him up, or part with me " ; 
 no one wants spirit, particularly the spirit of contra- 
 diction with that they dislike (she swore to me she 
 never would give me up, — but that is nothing). Yet, 
 I don't know that she would not take him at his word 
 and send to me ; but at ail events the superiority this 
 advantage would give him, and the additional distrust 
 and ill agreement between them, must increase soon, 
 so far that our union must be the event. The 3rd 
 course is her getting the better, and his finding (as he 
 has partly found) that my friendship is not incon- 
 venient ; and our all " living happy ever after." To 
 one of these conclusions we must come, sooner or later, 
 and why not now ? We shall have forty other things 
 to think of before spring — merely from the irritation 
 of hope deferred — the most annoying of discordant 
 feelings. " Have patience in the meantime," you say ; 
 so I will, if I can have nothing else. 
 
 The Duchess [of Devonshire]'s verses are beautiful, 
 but I don't like her a bit the better.* I send you in 
 
 1 Lady Elizabeth Hervey, bom 1759, was daughter of 4th Earl 
 of Bristol. In 1776 she married John Thomas Foster, who died 
 four years later. In 1787 Gibbon proposed marriage to her, and was 
 refused. In 1809 she married (as his second wife) the 5th Dulse of 
 Devonshire, who died in 1811. After that time she lived much
 
 1813] THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS 219 
 
 return not mine, as you will see by the hand ; but I am 
 not certain they are hers (Ph.'s)/ though from the cast 
 of thought it is very like her. 
 
 I hope I am not doing what Lord Grey did. He 
 showed some letters of a woman as the most exquisite, 
 &c., &c., till some sagacious persons pointed them out 
 either in Rousseau's Eloise, or the Portuguese letters ! 
 I received these this morning, and think them pretty ; 
 pray teU me if they are, for, seriously, I am a very erring 
 critic. One may WTite, and yet not be able to judge, 
 and the reverse ; return them on your return to town. 
 
 My new Turkish tale will be out directly ; I shall, of 
 course, send you a copy. Frere, and Canning, and the 
 Hollands have seen, and like it ; the public is another 
 question, but it will for some reasons interest you more 
 than anybody. These I leave you to discover (I mean 
 totally independent of criticism, for you may not like it 
 a bit the better), you know me better than most people, 
 and are the only person who can trace, and I want to 
 see whether you think my writings are me or not. 
 
 Yrs. ever, B. 
 
 When I speak of this tale and the author, I merely 
 mean feelings ; the characters, and the costume, and the 
 tale itself (at least are very like it, I heard) are Mussul- 
 man, This no one but you can tell. 
 
 abroad and spent much time at Rome, where she interested herself 
 in the excavations in the Forum and elsewhere. She was learned, 
 and had a facile pen. Her verses were far above the average of 
 those known as vers de societe. The Duchess died in 1824. 
 1 See Letters, ii. 346.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 MARRIAGE 
 
 (1814-1815) 
 
 In 1813 Byron had reached and perhaps passed the 
 zenith of his social and literary popularity in London. 
 His liaison with CaroUne Lamb had been broken off 
 in 1812 by himself, and even his worst detractors can 
 hardly deny him credit for this act. When she ran 
 away from Melbourne House and her mother was 
 searching for her all over London, it was Byron who 
 succeeded in finding her and taking her home. Lady 
 Bessborough wrote : "I am mortified to say it was 
 more by his [Byron's] persuasions than by mine — and 
 almost reproaches at her bearing to see me suffer so 
 much, that she was induced to return with me to White 
 HaU." 1 
 
 In 1814 we find him in a state of nervous irritation 
 at Lady Caroline's continued importunities, which 
 causes him to write of her with bitterness and disUke. 
 
 Meanwhile, Byron was becoming more entangled in 
 a social circle whose code of morality was lax, even 
 judged by the standards of the Regency period.' He 
 is restless and dissatisfied : he contemplates getting 
 married, and settling down if he can find someone 
 who will rule him, and lest he should fail in this he makes 
 definite preparations for a return to the Levant and 
 tries to persuade Hobhouse to accompany him. 
 
 1 Correspondence of Lord G. Leveson-Gower, ii. 448. 
 * See Edinburgh Review for Oct. 1921. 
 220
 
 1814] LETTERS FROM MISS MILBANKE 221 
 
 The motives which led to his second proposal to 
 Miss IVIilbanke were of a mixed character. There was 
 evident dissatisfaction with his present mode of Hfe 
 and a desire to force himself into a more domestic 
 groove : Lady Melbourne was anxious to see him 
 married and settled, and his sincere regard for her led 
 him to wish to be more closely attached to her family, 
 and there was apparently some sense of pique at having 
 for the first time been refused a request by any woman. 
 He had, too, an undoubted regard and respect for 
 Miss Milbanke which never amounted to a passionate 
 affection. He admitted that he " didn't know what 
 to make of her." ^ The courtship — or correspondence 
 on the subject — began in the spring of 1814, and I have 
 before me a packet of her letters written during the 
 intervening months. 
 
 On 19 June Miss MLilbanke writes: " Pray write to 
 me — for I have been rendered uneasy by your long 
 silence and you cannot wish to make me so." She 
 then expresses a fear that she may have been too care- 
 less of forms and expressions, and so her meaning may 
 have been misunderstood — or that it may have been 
 faulty — but she hopes his kindness is undiminished, 
 adding that she would expect correction from 
 him, and that it would be received with grateful 
 attention. Finally she begs him to keep their corre- 
 spondence secret, as she had already been taxed with 
 it. "I should acknowledge without a blush that I have 
 sought your friendship and find in it an over-payment 
 for the censure of superficial judges." 
 
 On 13 Aug. she writes again apologising for 
 having extorted from him a profession of sentiments 
 which he would have wished her to comprehend in 
 silence. She believes that up to a certain stage 
 
 1 Letter of 30 April 1814.
 
 222 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 affections are under control, and hoped that his had 
 been checked at that stage, as her own had been, by 
 a comparative study of their respective characters 
 which led her to believe that they were ill adapted to 
 each other. She feared he was not the person whom 
 she ought to select as her guide, support, and example 
 on earth and with a view to ImmortaUty. 
 
 In October she is anxious for his arrival at Seaham — 
 and finds it odd that she should be called upon to pacify 
 the old ones, so eager were they for his arrival : when 
 other circumstances which delayed their wedding are 
 removed she will make none — but will enter into the 
 contract of obedience as willingly as he can desire; 
 the other contracts she already performs. 
 
 They were engaged on 18 Sept., and Byron writes 
 that he means to reform most thoroughly, and " to 
 endeavour to make your niece happy." "As to 
 AnnabeUa," he writes to Lady Melbourne, " you can- 
 not think higher of her than I do. . . . After all it is 
 a match of your making — and better had it been had 
 your proposal been accepted at the time." She is the 
 only woman to whom I ever proposed in that way and 
 it is something to have got into the affirmative at last." 
 
 On 2 Nov., after various delays, Byron arrived at 
 Seaham for the first time : he likes Sir Ralph and 
 dishkes Lady Milbanke. As for Annabella, "she per- 
 plexes me . . . she is the most silent woman I ever 
 encountered." " I can't tell yet whether we are to be 
 happy or not. I have every disposition to do her all 
 possible justice — but I /ear she won't govern me." 
 
 These are ominous forebodings and misgivings. 
 " However," he adds, " the die is cast." " This I 
 must say for myself, that my attachment always 
 increases in due proportion to the return it meets 
 with."
 
 1814] MRS. CHAWORTH MUSTERS 223 
 
 Byron to Lady Melbourne 
 
 January 8th, 1814. 
 
 My deab L'^ ]VP, — I have had too much in my head 
 to write ; but don't think my silence capricious. 
 
 C, is quite out — in y® first place she was not under the 
 same roof, but first with my old friends the H[arrowby]'s 
 in B[erkele]y Square, and afterwards at her friends 
 the V[illiers]'s, nearer me. The separation and the 
 express are utterly false, and without even a shadow of 
 foundation ; so you see her spies are ill paid, or badly 
 informed. But if she had been in y® same house, it is 
 less singular than C.'s coming to it ; the house was a 
 very decent house, tUl that illustrious person thought 
 proper to render it otherwise. 
 
 As to M® de Stael,^ I never go near her ; her books are 
 very delightful, but in society I see nothing but a plain 
 woman forcing one to listen, and look at her, with her 
 pen behind her ear, and her mouth full of ink — so much 
 for her. 
 
 Now for a confidence — my old love of all loves — 
 
 IVIrs, ^ (whom somebody told you knew nothing 
 
 about me) has written to me twice — no love, but she 
 wants to see me ; and though it will be a melancholy 
 interview, I shall go ; we have hardly met, and never 
 been on any intimate terms since her marriage. He 
 has been playing the DevU with all kinds of vulgar 
 mistresses ; and behaving iU enough, in every respect. 
 I enclose you the last, which pray return immediately 
 with your opinion, whether I 02tght to see her, or not — 
 you see she is unhappy ; she was a spoilt heiress ; but 
 has seen little or nothing of the world — very pretty, 
 and once simple in character, and clever, but with no 
 peculiar accomplishments, but endeared to me by a 
 
 1 For his opinion of Mme de Stael see entry in his Journal, 
 6 Jan. 1814. Letters and Journals, ii. 379. 
 
 2 Mrs. Chaworth Musters had written to him as follows on 
 24 Dec. 1813. " My dear Lord, — If you are coming into 
 Notts, call at Edwalton near Nottingham, where you will find a very 
 old and sincere friend most anxious to see you. Yours most truly, 
 Mary."
 
 224 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 thousand childish, and singular recollections — you 
 know her estate joined mine ; and we were as children 
 very much together ; but no matter ; this was a love 
 match, they are separated. 
 
 I have heard from Ph.' who seems embarrassed 
 with constancy. Her date is the Gramjjian hills, to 
 be sure. With that latitude, and her precious epoux, 
 it must be a shuddering kind of existence. 
 
 C. may do as she pleases, thanks to your good-nature, 
 rather than my merits, or prudence ; there is little to 
 dread from her love, and I forgive her hatred. 1/ H.'s 
 second son is in Notts, and she has been guessing, and 
 asking about Mrs. C. ; no matter ; so that I keep her 
 from all other conjectures. I wrote to you in a tone 
 which nothing but hurry can excuse. Don't think 
 me impertinent, or peevish, but merely confused ; 
 consider one moment all things, and do not wonder. 
 By-the-bye, I lately passed my time very happily. 
 
 By-the-bye, this letter will prove to you that we were 
 at least friends, and that the mother-in-law erred 
 when she told you that it was quite a dream. You will 
 believe me another time. Adieu, ever y*^". Pray 
 write and believe me Most affect^ y", B. 
 
 [London] January 10th, 1814. 
 
 My dear L^ M^,— The " beloved friend " ^ was 
 always a she dogstar, and had an ascendancy over her 
 which I have felt to my cost ; and, depend upon it, 
 whatever point she has to carry will be carried. But 
 
 ^ Lady Francea. 
 
 2 Mary Chaworth Musters wrote on Jan. 7 : " You have rightly 
 guessed, my dear Lord : the note dated Dee. 24 was indeed written 
 by one of your earliest and still most faithful friends, but you must 
 not make a journey on purpose into this ill-natured country. If, 
 indeed, as I was led to believe, you had been coming to Newstead, 
 I trust my request might have been granted without unpleasant 
 consequences, as my present abode is with a near and dear relative 
 [Miss Radford], and her cottage situated about two miles from 
 Nottingham, on the London road through Melton, the way the Mail 
 travels. To have seen once more the friend of my youth would, 
 indeed, have been a great gratification. You will, I am convinced,
 
 1814] MRS. CHAWORTH MUSTERS 225 
 
 I hear (not from either), that they ^ are to be reconciled 
 immediately ; if so, I shall not Jom-ney 150 miles to be 
 a witness of y® re-miion ; and though I have no feelings 
 beyond esteem, etc., now to spare, and she still fewer for 
 me, in that case her wishing to see me was rather pre- 
 matm:e, because evidently she does not desire him to 
 know anything of the matter. " Like C." ! no more 
 than I am like Wm.,^ and as far her superior as I say, 
 most sincerely (with ""an air,'^ you wiU say), and be- 
 lieve, Wm. is to me in every good and praiseworthy 
 quality. As for C, don't talk of her, for I am really 
 advancing fast to an utter detestation; which I try 
 to curb, and which I must curb, for it is most ungenerous 
 to allow it to get the better of me, because there are 
 
 feel assured my anxiety to see you arises from a good motive. 
 The world would, I am aware, greatly condemn my having written, 
 but I trust to your prudence and the esteem I will believe you still 
 entertain for me, to act cautiously and destroy this scrawl with 
 the others, as it is necessary our correspondence should now end. 
 Before it concludes, let me as some exoneration for writing, which 
 my conscience whispers me you will think improper, tell you that I 
 have been very ill, and in my own opinion am still in a precarious 
 state of health. Humour must have informed you the sad changes 
 too I have lately experienced, but I have the comfort of feeling that 
 my own conduct has not deserved them and that to do what I thought 
 right has always been my wish and intention. From this source 
 I derive at least tranquillity, tho' my future destination is un- 
 certain. It will be, I hope, to remain here some weeks longer, perhaps 
 more. You would hardly recognize in me the happy creature you 
 once knew me. I am grown so thin, pale, and gloomy. You have 
 indeed seen much of the world, I very little. The small portion I 
 have had an opportunity of observing disgusts me ; so much better 
 did I expect to believe people in general, judging from my own 
 heart. But I am trespassing upon your time and patience. I 
 have a beloved friend with me who begs also to be remembered in 
 yowc prayers. Our united good wishes will attend you in every clime, 
 but I hope you are not going to leave England again, and that you 
 will sometimes visit Newstead. Why did you frank my letter 1 
 these are dangerous times, and I must be very circumspect. If you 
 write again do not do so, and believe the assurance that I am the 
 same faithful, sincere friend, Mary." 
 
 1 Mary Chaworth and her husband. 
 
 * William Lamb, Lady Caroline's husband.
 
 226 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 sacrifices which, once made, no provocation can quite 
 cai\cel. 
 
 "* My Confession " did not begin till I was alone, and 
 has therefore nothing to do with the question of 
 happiness ; and as to " abandon," none but the 
 greatest of sinners can have any idea of it ; but that 
 depends entirely on the persons themselves ; however, 
 there is no comparison, and there is an end of my 
 theoretical observations. 
 
 I cannot conceive why the D — ^1 should angle with so 
 many baits for one whom, all the world will tell you, 
 belonged to him probably before he was born. But 
 when they give me a character for " Art," it is surely 
 most mistaken ; no one was ever more heedless, Moore, 
 in a letter to me on a different subject, you may suppose, 
 says, " the only chance of salvation for you — (I never 
 look for any from yourself) — is the, &c. &c." Now, 
 what he wishes me to avoid, you would call " my salva- 
 tion." No matter ; nothmg can deprive one of the 
 past ; and as to the future, what promise did it ever 
 keep to any human being ? Besides, " there is a world 
 beyond Rome," and, though you will not believe me, 
 nothing but this confounded delay of Newstead, &c., 
 could have prevented me from being long ago in my isles 
 of the East. Why should I remain or care 1 I am not, 
 never was, nor can be popular ; and you will own I do 
 not deserve nor indeed strive to be so. I never won 
 the world ; and what it has awarded me has always 
 been owing from its caprice. My life here is frittered 
 away ; there I was always in action, or, at least, in 
 motion ; and, except during night, always on or in the 
 sea, and on horseback. I am sadly sick of my present 
 sluggishness, and I hate civilization. 
 
 Pray why the Parenthesis ? Do you not know that 
 shyness is really and truly y^ family appendage ? it 
 may look like modesty (but few see the likeness) ; it 
 is very often contempt of others, and no great liking 
 to oneself. 
 
 As to loud talking and shining, as it is called, I leave 
 it to your wits ; my only object in society is to see some
 
 1814] LADY FRANCES WEBSTER 227 
 
 one person, to whom it is generally expedient to talk 
 rather in a low voice ; and if they listen and don't 
 look uncomfortable (as you always do with me), it is 
 all I hope ; and when they are gone, I look about me, 
 and see what proselytes my master is making, and 
 interrupt nobody. Perhaps I shall go into Notts, but 
 if they are together, I do not see how even friendship 
 (on such a foundation as ours) would be much to the 
 purpose. 
 
 Ever yours, B. 
 
 P.S. — Lady Mount ' was seized with a sudden pen- 
 chant for^ and called on her at the Vil" [Villiers] 
 and asked her to some party, in gratitude, I pre- 
 sume, for the Aston summer, of which I suppose the 
 elder informed her. I am sure she could not refrain 
 from saying something of the Sr. Ph.,' as both 
 she and I saw that she was vigilant to plague us. 
 That business will never be renewed, or rather 
 never completed. I heard from Ph. the other day as 
 usual, but we shall not meet till spring. By that time 
 it is impossible she should not be altered ; and even if 
 not, I shall not fool away my time on theories, and that 
 stupid speculative reverie of Platonics, in which I was 
 obliged to humour her fears, or her coquetry. She 
 will fall eventually (probably soon) into some less 
 indulgent instructor's precepts, for whom I have been 
 merely paving the way ; it was not my fault that 
 this will be the case, but she — no, / — was the fool of 
 her whimsical romance. 
 
 January Wth, 1814. 
 
 My dear Lady M[elbourne], — I have heard from 
 (what new initial shall we fix upon ?) M. again,* and 
 
 * Lady Mountnorris was tho daughter of the Rt. Hon. Sir Henry 
 Cavendish and Baroness Waterpark, and married in 1783, as hia 
 second wife, Arthur, Earl of Mountnorris and Viscount Valentia. 
 She was the mother of Lady Frances Webster. 
 
 * Augusta Leigh. 
 
 3 Sieur Ph. (i.e. Webster). 
 
 * Mary Chaworth. 
 
 1—16
 
 228 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 am at a loss. You must advise me. I will teU you 
 why. It is impossible I should now feel anything 
 beyond friendship for her or anyone else in present 
 circumstances ; and the kind of feeling which has 
 lately absorbed me has a mixture of the terrible, which 
 renders aU other, even passion (pour les autres) insipid 
 to a degree ; in short, one of its effects has been like 
 the habit of Mithridates, who by using himself gradually 
 to poison of the strongest kind, at last rendered all 
 others ineffectual when he sought them as a remedy 
 for aU evils, and a release from existence. 
 
 In my answer to M. I touched very slightly on my 
 past feelings towards her, and explained what they now 
 were ; hers I conceive to be much the same, as she says 
 as much ; but I am not quite so sure that seemg her 
 again, and being on the terms of intimacy we once were, 
 would not bring on the old attack on me, and the recol- 
 lection of the former is not sufficiently agreeable to 
 make me w ish to risk another. 
 
 She is much governed by " dear friend " [Miss Rad- 
 ford], and " dear friend " and I, for certain reasons, am 
 not very likely to agree on that subject, if on any other. 
 I only wonder how she came to allow her to write to 
 me at aU. " Dear friend " is the elder by several years, 
 was never handsome, but not unwiUing to be thought 
 so. I don't know how to manage her, even if I wish to 
 preserve this same sickly friendship which is reviving 
 between M. and me. I must try my hand at dissimu- 
 lation ; and shall probably over- act my part if I get 
 interested in the busmess ; in the meantime it must 
 take its course. She talks of coming to town in spring ; 
 in that case I might have at least turned her friendship 
 to some account, by playing it off agamst Ph., which, 
 from the disposition of the latter, would have ensured 
 her ; but I have quite resigned my pretensions in that 
 quarter, and in every other. 
 
 I have just received the enclosed from C[aroline 
 Lamb] ; she seems to wish to alarm by some idea 
 of my being hated by somebody I like ; to whom, or 
 what she alludes I do not know, nor much conjecture.
 
 1814] LADY CAROLINE LAMB 229 
 
 I shall not answer, and you will have the goodness to 
 throw it, C'5, into the fire. 
 
 You will read the other enclosure ; favour me with 
 your counsel, and return it. We shall perhaps not 
 correspond much longer ; but as long as I can I shall 
 not cease occasionally to sign myself 
 
 Ever yours, B. 
 
 P.S. — If C. has taken anything into her head (which, 
 by-the-bye, she would probably have done, at all 
 events), it is all over ; she will never rest till she has 
 destroyed me in some way or other. When it comes to 
 that point, and through her (yet I hardly know how, 
 for I have neither written nor held any conversation 
 of any kind with C. since our summer fracas), if it comes 
 to that point, she will regret it, I have neither weapon 
 nor defence against herself, but some of her instruments 
 or connections (I mean maternal ones, with yours I can 
 have nothing to do), will probably be invoked by her, 
 and if but one, it will be good company in whatever 
 journey I may wish to set out upon. 
 
 January 12th, 1814. 
 
 My deab Lady M^, — More letters, one, two, three, 
 from C, who wants pictures, forgiveness, praise for 
 forbearance, promise of future confidence, and God 
 knows what beside, with leave to show some elderly 
 gentleman of wit and discretion the " Curse of Minerva." 
 She may show hun the " Curse of Caroline Lamb," or 
 whatever she pleases ! and may tell him the same long 
 story she did to Sheridan the other day. I reaUy 
 believe her shortest and best way would be to print it, 
 as her recitations are endless ; and I really think she 
 never will rest, till she or M® de Stael have it circulated 
 through regenerated Germany, where she may enjoy 
 the honours of suicide till a happy old age. But a truce 
 with these fooleries. I must not, and cannot write ; 
 and as to pictures, I have no time to sit for a sign-post. 
 Just as I had got her quite out of my head, and she 
 was quietly disposed with you and everyone else, here
 
 230 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 she comes again. It is too late, and never was a more 
 unlucky moment, as it happens that the least additional 
 drop will make my cup run over, and any irritation 
 revenge her amply, but certauily at the same time 
 separate her, and you, and me beyond y^ possibility 
 of re-union for the remainder of our lives. 
 
 I don't think mine wiU be a long one (this you will 
 think like her, but I don't allude to suicide ; tJiat is 
 weak, and if I were inclined that way, it would never 
 be from the pressure of pain, but satiety of pleasure), 
 because from mere common causes and effects it cannot 
 last. I began very early and very violently, and alter- 
 nate extremes of excess and abstinence have utterly 
 destroyed — oh, unsentimental word ! — my stomach, 
 and, as Lady Oxford used seriously to say, a broken 
 heart means nothing but bad digestion. I am one 
 day in high health, and the next on fire, or ice — in 
 short, I shall turn hypochondriacal, or dropsical ; 
 whimsical I am already, but don't let me get tragical. 
 
 The last dangerous illness I had was a fever in the 
 Morea in 1811, this very month ; and what do you 
 suppose was the effect ? I really can't tell you, but it is 
 perfectly true, that at the time when I myself thought, 
 and everyone else thought I was dying, I had very 
 nearly made my exit like some "Just man," whom a 
 King of Poland envied. You will not believe this, but 
 pray confine your scepticism to any good you may hear 
 of me. I think you have seen that in my statements to 
 you truth has been the basis. You do not know how 
 uncomfortable the doubts (not yours) about M.^ had 
 made me ; you have now perceived that we were 
 " inmates of the same house," and I think you may also 
 see that she was not ignorant that I was attached to 
 her. I never said that it was returned ; however, in 
 a bojdsh and girlish way I might fancy it, heigh ho ! 
 WeU, it does not much matter ; but if I could begin 
 life again there is much of it I would pass in the same 
 manner. 
 
 1 Mary Chaworth.
 
 1814] NAPOLEON 231 
 
 I leave town on Sunday or Monday next, and will 
 write to you from Newstead ; if you can pacify C. 
 and keep her in good resolutions you will do her a 
 service ; as for me, I am not worth serving, nor 
 preserving, By-the-bye, don't you pity poor Napo- 
 leon ? ^ and are these your heroes ? Commend me to 
 the Romans, or Macbeth, or Richard III. This man's 
 spirit seems broken ; it is but a bastard devil at last, 
 and a sad whining example to your future conquerors ; 
 it will work a moral revolution. He must feel, doubt- 
 less ; if he did not, there would be Httle merit in 
 insensibility. But why show it to the world ? A 
 thorough mind would either rise from the rebound, or 
 at least go out " with harness on its back." 
 
 Ever yours, B. 
 
 Jarvuary IZth, 1814. 
 
 My dear L"^ M'', — ^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 y" 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 de- 
 serving, 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 
 
 1 Byron may have referred to Napoleon's speech to the com- 
 missioners whom he had appointed a few days previously (first 
 week of January) to arouse the provinces to supply money 
 and men for the war, and to accelerate the action of the 
 Government in every department. "I do not fear to acknow- 
 ledge," said Napoleon, " that I have made war too long ; I 
 had conceived vast proj ects ; I wished to secure to Franco the 
 empire of the world. I was mistaken ; these projects were not in 
 proportion to the numerical force of our population. I ought to 
 expiate the fault I have committed in reckoning too much on my 
 good fortune, and I will expiate it. I will make peace. I will make 
 it on such terms as circimastances command, and this peace shall 
 be mortifying to myself alone. It is I who have deceived myself ; 
 it is I who ought to suffer, it is not France."
 
 232 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 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, and 
 when not, it was entirely my own — in short, I know no 
 name for my 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. As to manner, mine is the same 
 to anyone I know and 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 M® 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. 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 conjuga- 
 tion with somebody else — " How soon I get the better 
 of — " in the name of St. Francis and his wife of snow, 
 and Pygmahon and 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, and feehngs — 
 for I am neither ungrateful, nor at all disposed to be 
 disappointed ; on the contrary, I do firmly beheve that 
 I have often 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 
 foohsh 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.
 
 1814] MRS. CHAWORTH MUSTERS 233 
 
 As to Mrs. C./ 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 beheve yoii 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, and have been laughing this half 
 hour at a thousand absurdities, as if I had nothing 
 serious to think about. 
 
 Y^ ever, B. 
 
 P.S. Another epistle from M.' My answer must 
 be under cover to " dear friend," who is doing or 
 suffering a folly — what can she, Miss B[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 Miss B[adford] of 
 wishing to make a scene between him ^ and me, out of 
 dislike to both, but that shall not prevent me from 
 going, a moment. 
 
 I shall leave town on Sunday. . . . 
 
 I don't think I laughed once, save in soliloquy, 
 for ten days, which you, who know me, won't beheve 
 (everyone else thinks me the most gloomy of existences). 
 We used to sit and look at one another, except in duetto, 
 and 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 scribbhng to each other, and came down like 
 
 1 Mary Chaworth. 2 jij.^ Musters.
 
 234 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 ghosts in the mommg.^ 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, and taking mine in the 
 same way. One she offered me as I was leading her to 
 dinner at N[ewstead], all the servants before, and 
 W[ebster] and 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 1/ Water*^ you asked 
 for ; " she returned it with the note beneath, with " it 
 is dated wrong, alter it to-morrow," and W[ebster] com- 
 plaining that women did nothing but scribble — 
 wondered how people could have the patience to frank 
 and alter franks, and then happily digressed to the 
 day of the month — ^fish sauce — ^good wine — and bad 
 weather. 
 
 Your " matrimonial ladder " wants but one more 
 descending step — " d — nation." I wonder how the 
 carpenter omitted it — it concerned me much. 
 
 I wish I were married, and don't care about 
 beauty, not subsequent virtue — nor much about 
 fortune. 
 
 I have made up my mind to share the decorations of 
 my betters — but I should Uke — let me see — hveliness, 
 gentleness, cleanhness, and something of comeliness — ■ 
 and my own first born. Was ever man more moderate ? 
 what do you think of my " Bachelor's wife ? " What a 
 letter have I written ! 
 
 January \5ih, 1814. 
 
 My deae L^ W, — As I shall not leave town till 
 Monday, I have time to hear once by return of post, 
 if convenient to yourself. That you may judge exactly 
 how Ph. and I are at present with regard to each 
 other, I send you her last epistle ; the first part is 
 girlish and romantic, and the whole not much to the 
 
 1 While at Aston.
 
 1814] BYRON'S SEIZURE AT NEWSTEAD 235 
 
 purpose — as to the " telling," I believe no one but your- 
 self has any foundation but their own suspicions, and 
 after all there is nothing to be told. 
 
 I had an odd dialogue lately with Ph.'s sister. 
 We were talking of passing time in the country, and I 
 said that my usual and favourite method was to pass 
 several hours of the day quietly and alone. " Alone, 
 but not quietly, ' ' she answered. ' ' What do you mean ? ' ' 
 " What I have said, I have seen you, when you did not 
 see me," I asked, as you may be sure, for an explana- 
 tion, which she gave me as follows : " The morning 
 before we aU left N[ewstead], I had been walking with 
 Ph. in the cloisters, where I left her to go to my room. 
 When I got to the hall door, which was half open, I 
 stopped, as I am short-sighted, to look through my 
 glass at a person leaning alone near the fire, and whom 
 I could not at first distinguish — it was you, but I really 
 did not know you immediately, you were perfectly 
 convulsed.''^ " Why did not you walk on, and speak 
 to me ? " " Because I was frightened, and did not 
 not know what to do ; but I turned back to P^." 
 " Did you mention this to her ? " " No, I had reasons 
 for keeping it to myself." 
 
 I perfectly recoUect being where she describes ; and 
 some of my sensations, but I was not aware of betraying 
 them to anyone. The hall at N[ewstead] is in the 
 Abbey part of that enormous mansion ; and quite 
 remote from any but my own rooms ; and this was the 
 last day but one we passed together. You may 
 perhaps judge from this that I do feel sometimes ; and 
 that for her at that time I did feel enough. 
 
 You will think this scene a little in C.'s style ; but 
 recoUect, first, it is not my description ; and secondly, 
 it was not before five hundred people, nor was I aware 
 that anyone had seen it at all ; and that I laid no great 
 stress on it you may suppose, by my never having told 
 it even to you before. 
 
 So you have H.R.H.* on Tuesday. Well, I envy 
 
 1 The Regent.
 
 236 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 him his visit, and many years of his hfe ; much more 
 than I do his Regency. 
 
 It is cruel to mention Middlcton, when I daily regret 
 not going — how does C. go on ? I do think between 
 her theory, and my system of ethics, you will begin to 
 think that our first parents had better have paused 
 before they plucked the tree of knowledge. 
 
 Ever y''^ most truly, B. 
 
 January \Qih, 1814. 
 
 My dear Lady M[elbouiin]e, — Lewis ^ is just re- 
 turned from Oatlands, where he has been quarreUing 
 with Stael about everything and everybody. She has 
 not even let poor quiet me alone, but has discovered, 
 first, that I am affected ; and 2^^^, that I " shut my eyes 
 during dinner ! " What this last can mean I don't 
 know, unless she is opposite. If I then do, she is very 
 much obhged to me ; and if at the same time I could 
 contrive to shut my ears, she would be still more so. . . . 
 If I really have so ludicrous a habit, will you teU me so — 
 and I will try and break myself of it. In the meantime, 
 I think the charge will amuse you. I have worse faults 
 to find with her than " shutting her eyes " — one of 
 which is opening her mouth too frequently. 
 
 Do not you think people are very naughty ? What 
 do you think I have this very day heard said of poor 
 M.^ ? It provoked me beyond anything, as he was named 
 as authority — ^why the abominable stories they 
 circulate about Lady W., of which I can say no more. 
 AU this is owing to " dear friend " ; and yet, as far as 
 it regards " dear friend," I must say I have very 
 sufficing suspicions for believing them utterly false ; at 
 least, she must have altered strangely within this nine 
 years — but this is the age of revolutions. 
 
 Her ascendancy always appeared to me that of a 
 cunning mind over a weak one. But — ^but — why the 
 woman is a fright, which, after all, is the best reason 
 for not believing it. 
 
 1 Matthew Gregory Lewis, commonly known as " Monk " Lewis, 
 See Letters and Journals, ii. 379. 
 
 2 Mrs. Musters.
 
 1814] NEED OF A COMPANION 237 
 
 I still mean to set off to-morrow, unless this snow adds 
 so much to the impracticability of the roads as to render 
 it useless. I don't mind anything but delay ; and I 
 might as well be in London as at a sordid inn, waiting 
 for a thaw, or the subsiding of a flood and the clearing 
 of snow. 
 
 I wonder what your answer will be on Ph.''s letter. 
 I am growing rather partial to her yomiger sister ^ ; 
 who is very pretty, but fearfully young — and I think 
 a fool. A wife, you say, would be my salvation. Now 
 I could have but one motive for marrying into that 
 family — and even that might possibly only produce a 
 scene, and spoil everything ; but at all events it would 
 in some degree be a revenge, and in the very face of 
 your compliment {ironical, I believe) on the want of 
 selfishness, I must say that I never can quite get over 
 the " not " of last summer — no — though it were to 
 become " yea " to-morrow. 
 
 I do believe that to marry would be my wisest step — 
 but whom ? I might manage this easily with " le 
 'pere," but I don't admire the connection — and I have 
 not committed myself by any attentions hitherto. 
 But all wives would be much the same. I have no 
 heart to spare and expect none in return ; but, as 
 Moore says, " A pretty wife is something for the 
 fastidious vanity of a roue to retire upon," And mine 
 might do as she pleased, so that she had a fair temper, 
 and a quiet way of conducting herself, leaving me the 
 same liberty of conscience. 
 
 What I want is a companion — a friend rather than 
 a sentimentalist. I have seen enough of love matches — 
 and of all matches — to make up my mind to the common 
 lot of happy couples. The only misery would be if I 
 fell in love afterwards — ^which is not urJikely, for habit 
 has a strange power over my affections. In that case 
 I should be jealous, and then you do not know what a 
 devil any bad passion makes me. I should very 
 
 1 Lady C. Annesley. See Journal of 16 Jan. 1814. Letters arid 
 Journals, ii. 380.
 
 238 IVIARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 likely do all that C. threatens in her paroxysms ; and 
 I have more reasons than you are aware of, for mis- 
 trusting myself on this point. 
 Heigh-ho ! Good night. 
 
 Ever y" most truly, B. 
 
 P.S. — ^The enclosed was written last night, and I am 
 just setting ofi. You shall hear from Newstead — if 
 one ever gets there in a coach really as large as the cabin 
 of a " 74," and, I believe, meant for the Atlantic instead 
 of the Continent. 
 
 1,000 thanks for yours of this mom ; " never loved 
 so before." Well, then, I hope never to be loved so 
 again — for what is it to the purpose ? You wonder 
 how I answered it ?* To tell you the truth (which I 
 could not tell her), I have not answered it at all — nor 
 shall. I feel so much inclined to believe her sincere, 
 that I cannot sit down and coolly repay her truth with 
 fifty falsehoods. I do not believe her for the same reason 
 you believe, not because by writing she commits her- 
 self — and that is seldom done unless in earnest. 
 
 I shall be delighted to hear your defence against my 
 insinuations, but you will make nothing of it — and 
 he is very much to be envied. But you mistake me, for 
 I do not mean in general ; on the contrary, I coincide 
 with him in taste but upon one instance. 
 
 C. was right about the poem. I have scribbled a 
 longer one than either of the last, and it is in the 
 press, * but you know I never hold forth to you on such 
 topics — why should I ? Now you will think this a piece 
 of conceit, but, really, it is a relief to the fever of my 
 mind to write ; and as at present I am what they 
 call " popular " as an author — it enables me to serve 
 one or two people without embarrassing anything but 
 my brains — for I never have, nor shall avail myself of 
 the lucre. And yet it would be folly merely to make 
 presents to a bookseller, whose accounts to me last 
 year are just 1,500 guineas, without including C[hild]e 
 
 * This refers to Lady Frances Webster. 
 2 The Corsair, published January 1814.
 
 1814] AT NEWSTEAD 239 
 
 H[aroId]. Now the odd part is, that if I were a regular 
 stipendiary, and wanted it, probably I should not be 
 offered one half. But such are mankind — always 
 offering or denying in the wrong place. But I have 
 written more than enough already ; and this is my 
 last experiment on public patience — and just at present 
 I won't try yours any further. 
 
 Ever, my dear L^^ M^ &c., B. 
 
 [Newstead] January 29i/i, 1814. 
 
 My dear L^ M^, — ^I wrote a long letter to you 
 yesterday, and in case it should not reach you, I may 
 as well do the like to-day. Never was such weather. 
 One would imagine Heaven wanted to raise a powder- 
 tax, and had sent the snow to lay it on. However, 
 being in no want of combustibles (you know that Notts 
 is famous for coals and the fair sex), and my books and 
 cellar being both in tolerable order, I can laugh, even 
 though lookmg through a window ; though I almost 
 suspect myself of the rheumatism in one of my joints 
 and a chUblain besides — two very unsentimental 
 maladies. 
 
 My yesterday's was an epistle almost of business — 
 and what this wUl be I cannot teU. No matter — if 
 you don't quarrel with it or the writer. 
 
 I have at last heard (the weather won't let me see 
 her) M[ary Chaworth]'s intentions. She says {since 
 yesterday) she believes return impossible, and that she 
 win " soon act for herself " ; and then talks of being 
 in town in spring. What she proposes to herself in 
 coming there, or why she cannot kiss and be friends with 
 him, I do not know, and shall not enquire ; but she 
 appears to me to be acting injudiciously in both in- 
 stances. 
 
 As a woman of an old family and large fortune (of 
 which from the circumstances she may probably retain 
 a considerable income), and of unimpeached character, 
 it will not perhaps be difficult for her to enter good 
 society. But she is shy, and singular, and will be
 
 240 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 terribly out of her element. But though pretty (at 
 least, she was so), I should not think her liable to get 
 into any scrape, but a great deal of discomfort. In 
 one of her epistles she tells me that I have always been 
 represented as " totally without principle with regard 
 to her sex " — against which charge she invariably 
 thought it right to defend me. In my opinion very 
 justly, doubtless ; but I think it very imprudent in her 
 to select, at this time, a man of that supposed descrip- 
 tion, for her " to consider as a friend or a beloved 
 brother " (I believe I quote correctly) ; and the more 
 so, because I am quite convinced she herself has no 
 idea of ever regarding me as anything more — and would 
 be exceedingly surprised and vexed if she found the 
 world saymg otherwise. The next absurd thing 
 is making a mystery of our correspondence — which she 
 does in every possible way — and at y® same time 
 writing almost every day ; — in short — thus her pro- 
 ceedings stand at present. I have hinted, as delicately 
 as I could, pretty nearly what j^ou have read in this 
 letter. I told her not to " consider me for a moment, but 
 to act entirely according to her own wishes and ideas 
 of propriety, &c." — and the answer is " that there will 
 be no impediment to our correspondence, which, at 
 all events, may continue " ; and that in ten days her 
 fate will probably be decided (meaning, I suppose, 
 the separation). And then she adds her regrets at 
 my selling N[ewstead] and wishes me to delay my 
 journey to town for a short time. 
 
 I do not believe he as yet has any notion that she 
 won't return ; and if she does not, there are probably 
 some who will believe that I have been tampering 
 with her in the way of dissuasion, which will arise 
 entirely from her timing things ill. It is, however, 
 not the fact ; if I have said an3;i:hing on y® subject, it 
 has rather been in favour of her return — at least, when 
 she thought of it I told her she was quite right. 
 
 I should not have said so much on this subject, but 
 you expressed a wish to hear of it ; and if it bores you 
 it shan't be repeated. You see there is no love in
 
 1814] MRS. CHAWORTH MUSTERS 241 
 
 the case, and that I do not write of it " con amove,'''' 
 as I did from Aston. 
 
 All places are, I presume, nearly alike in this Lap- 
 land ; but N[ewstead] has always suited me better 
 than any other — and I do not dislike it more now than 
 heretofore. 
 
 1 mentioned yesterday that Augusta was here, 
 which renders it much more pleasant, as we never yawn 
 or disagree ; and laugh much more than is suitable to 
 so solid a mansion ; and the family shyness makes us 
 more amusing companions to each other than we could 
 be to any one else ? Ever y"^, B. 
 
 P.S. Will you address your answer to London % 
 
 Newark, February Qth, 1814. 
 
 My dear L^ ]VF, — ^I am thus far on my return to 
 town, and having passed the Trent (which threatens 
 a flood on y® first opportunity), I hope to reach town 
 in tolerable plight. 
 
 Mr. Claughton has been with us during the last two 
 days at N[ewstead], and this day set ofiE for Cheshire, 
 and I for the south, to prepare for a final and amicable 
 arrangement. 
 
 M[ary Chaworth] I have not seen. Business and the 
 weather, and badness of roads, and partly a late slight 
 illness of her own, have interfered to prevent our meet- 
 ing for the present, but I have heard a good deal from 
 and of her. Him^ I have not heard from nor of ; nor 
 have I seen him ; nor do I know exactly where he is ; 
 but somewhere in the country, I believe. You wUl 
 very probably say that I ought to have gone over 
 at aU events, and Augusta has also been trying her 
 rhetoric to the same purpose, and urging me repeatedly 
 to call before I left the country.* But I have been 
 
 ^ Mr. Chaworth Musters. 
 
 2 In this connexion it may interest the reader to refer to Byron's 
 letter to Monsieur Coulmann, undated (1823). See Letters, etc., 
 vi. 233, 234. Byron there states that his sister dissuaded him from 
 paying a visit to Mary, and that he was guided by the reasons she 
 gave.
 
 242 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 one day too busy, and another too lazy, and alto- 
 gether so sluggish upon the subject, that I am thus far 
 on my return without making this important visit 
 on my way. 
 
 She seems in her letters very undecided whether to 
 
 return to or no, and I have always avoided both 
 
 sides of the topic, or, if I touched on it at all, it was on 
 the rational bearing of the question. 
 
 I have written to you two long letters from the 
 Abbey, and, as I hope to see you soon, I wOl not try 
 your eye-glass and patience further at present. 
 
 Ever y", B. 
 
 One^ of my great inducements to that brilliant 
 negociation with the Princess of Parallelograms, was 
 the vision of our jamily 'party, and the quantity of 
 domestic lectures I should faithfully detail, without 
 mutual comments thereupon. 
 
 You seem to think I am in some scrape at present 
 by my unequal spirits. Perhaps I am, but you shan't 
 be shocked, so you shan't. 
 
 I won't draw further upon you for sympathy. You 
 wUl be in town so soon, and I have scribbled so much, 
 that you will be glad to see a letter shorter than usual. 
 
 I wish you would lengthen yours. 
 
 Ever my dear L^ M*, B. 
 
 February Uth, 1814. 
 
 My deak Lady M., — On my arrival in town on 
 Wednesday, I found myself in what the learned call 
 a dilemma, and the vulgar a scrape. Such a clash 
 of paragraphs,* and a conflict of newspapers, lampoons 
 of all description, some good, and all hearty, the 
 Regent (as reported) wroth ; L*^ Carlisle in a fury ; the 
 Morning Post in hysterics ; and the Courier in convul- 
 
 1 This fragment is preserved with the foregoing letter, but bears 
 no date, and may perhaps be misplaced. 
 
 2 About his two stanzas on " Princess Charlotte weeping " in 1812. 
 For these attacks see Letters and Journals, ii, 463-92, and Appen- 
 dix VII., ibid.
 
 1814] LINES ON PRINCESS CHARLOTTE 243 
 
 Bions of criticism and contention. To complete the 
 farce, the Morning Papers this day announce the inten- 
 tion of some zealous Rosencrantz or Guildenstern to 
 " play upon his pipe " in our house of hereditaries. 
 This last seems a little too ludicrous to be true, but, 
 even if so — and nothing is too ridiculous for some of 
 them to attempt — all the motions, censures, sayings, 
 doings and ordinances of that august body, shall never 
 make me even endeavour to explain, or soften a syllable 
 of the twenty words which have excited, what I really 
 do not yet exactly know, as the accounts are contra- 
 dictory, but be it what it may, " as the wine is tapped 
 it shall be drunk to the lees." You tell me not to be 
 " violent," and not to " answer." I have not and shall 
 not answer, and although the consequences may be, 
 for aught I know to the contrary, exclusion from 
 society, and all sorts of disagreeables, the " Demon 
 whom I still have served, has not yet cowed my better 
 part of man " ; and whatever I may, and have, or shaU 
 feel, I have that within me, that bounds against 
 opposition. I have quick feelings, and not very good 
 nerves ; but somehow they have more than once 
 served me pretty well, when I most wanted them, and 
 may again. At any rate I shall try. 
 
 Did you ever know anything like this ? At a time 
 when peace and war, and Emperors and Napoleons, 
 and the destinies of the things they have made of man- 
 kind, are trembling in the balance, the Government 
 Gazettes can devote half their attention and columns, 
 day after day, to 8 lines, written two years ago and now 
 republished only (by an individual), and suggest them 
 for the consideration of Parliament, probably about 
 the same period with the treaty of peace. 
 
 I really begin to think myself a most important 
 personage ; what would poor Pope have given 
 to have brought down this upon his " epistle to 
 Augustus ? " 
 
 I think you must allow, considering all things, public 
 and private, that mine has been an odd destiny. But 
 I prate, and will spare you. 
 1—17
 
 244 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 Pray when are you most visible ? or will any of your 
 " predilections " ^ interfere between you and me ? 
 
 How is C. ? It is a considerable compensation for 
 all other disturbances, that she has left us in peace, 
 and I do not think you will ever be further troubled 
 with her anniversary scenes. 
 
 I am glad you like the Corsair, and was afraid he 
 might be too larmoyant a gentleman for your favour. 
 But all these externals are nothing to that within^ 
 on a subject to which I have not alluded. 
 
 Ever y"^ most affec'^, B. 
 
 P.S. Murray took fright and shuffled in my absence, 
 as you say, but I made him instantly replace the lines 
 as before. ^ It was not time to shrink now, and if it were 
 otherwise, they should never be expunged and never 
 shall. All the edicts on earth could not suppress their 
 circulation, after the foolish fuss of these journalists 
 who merely extend the demands of curiosity by the 
 importance they attach to two " doggerel stanzas," 
 as they repeatedly call them. 
 
 February I8th, 1814. 
 
 My dear L"^ M., — R [Rogers ?] I should conceive 
 not to be a very exact thermometer as to " spirits " ' ; 
 but if his statement be true, it may not be necessary 
 for me to tell you that there are better reasons for 
 my so being, than all the paragraphs that ever were. 
 
 But to talk of common things. The Hollands, &c., 
 have been worrying me to say, and do, I know not what, 
 about Lord Carlisle, and I will neither do that, nor 
 anything else, but be silent, which has put them in no 
 very good humour. 
 
 The " Courier " has lately been most savage to 
 Rogers, who appears to me to feel it angrily ; but I may 
 be mistaken. I do not know to what you allude, nor 
 does it matter ; whatever they can, they will say ; but 
 
 1 " I have no predilections." — Princess Charlotte. 
 
 2 The two stanzas were added to The Corsair, 
 
 3 Letters and Journals, ii. 383.
 
 1814] PERPLEXITY 245 
 
 if stepping across the room would stop tliem I would 
 not cross it. 
 
 If theyonce get to a certain pitch, I shall do something 
 or other probably, and effectual if possible ; but I will 
 go to the foimtain-head, and not to the muddy little 
 streams that flow from it. 
 
 I was nearly meeting you at Lady Lansdowne's and 
 Miss Berry's, but did not go. Rogers says I should, as 
 it looks as if I was disturbed ; but you know I did not 
 go out much last year, and have stUl less inclination 
 this. But if I felt all this so deeply, what should pre- 
 vent my leaving town, or the country ? The fact is, 
 I believe that I am much as usual, and they tell me 
 in high health, which is more than usual. 
 
 I don't think that I shaU be able to caU upon you 
 before C.'s arrival, and that wiU stop my visits for a 
 stUl longer period. She has been quite silent, and all 
 I most sincerely desire is that she may continue so ; 
 and I daresay she will — at least I hope it, for I do 
 believe if one thing more than another would drive me 
 out of my senses at this moment, it would be any 
 renewal or intercourse with her, even by letters. 
 
 Pray believe me yrs. most truly and affectly., B. 
 
 February 2\st, 1814. 
 
 My dear Lady M., — I am not "forbidden" by , 
 
 though it is very odd that like everyone she seemed 
 more assured (and not very well pleased) of your 
 influence than any other ; but I suppose, being pretty 
 certain of her own power — always said, "do as you 
 please, and go where you like " — and I really know no 
 reason for my not having been where I ought, unless it 
 was to punish myself — or — I reaUy do not know why 
 exactly. You will easily suppose that, twined as she 
 is round my heart in every possible manner, dearest and 
 deepest in my hope and my memory, still I am not easy. 
 It is this — if anything — my own. In short, I cannot 
 write about it. Still I have not lost all self-command. 
 For instance, I could at this moment be where I have 
 been, where I would rather be than anywhere else, and
 
 246 MARRIAGE [en. v 
 
 yet from some motive or other — but certainly not indif- 
 ference — I am here, and here I will remain ; but it 
 costs me some struggles. 
 
 It is the misery of my situation, to see it as you see 
 it, and to feel it as I feel it, on her account, and that of 
 others. As for myself, it is of much less, and may soon 
 be of no consequence. But I will drop y® subject. 
 
 I am glad that you think poor Dallas acted rightly. 
 I told him that I saw no reason why he should inter- 
 pose, and Hobhouse said it was better not ; but it 
 was his own doing, and the facts are exactly as he 
 stated. I neither forbade nor encouraged him, but 
 left him as I hitherto always had — a free agent. If he 
 was ever under any obligation to me — it is amply 
 cancelled by the acknowledgement.^ 
 
 As for the " Courier " gentleman, he has gone upon 
 a wrong plan. A little fun would have done me more 
 harm than all this exceeding gravity and rage. Who he 
 is I know not. They tell me many different names, 
 and I observe that Rogers and all of them fix upon that 
 person they each most dislike. Is not this human 
 nature ? and worth all the paragraphs to catch the trait? 
 I am perhaps not so angry as I ought to be, but that 
 won't alter me a jot. The instant I can find a clue, I 
 shall not be at aU less summary, because I have hitherto 
 been silent. As to law, that would be no revenge at all, 
 and besides it is so slow. The person will either betray 
 himself, or be betrayed. If a hireling, he must be 
 left to his wages ; if in a higher circle, as is suspected, 
 
 1 On 17 Feb. 1814, The Courier, an evening paper, inserted 
 a paragraph accusing Lord Byron of having " received and 
 pocketed " large sums for his poems. Why he should not have done 
 so was not stated, but Byron, to use his own words, " had 
 never yet received, nor wished to receive, a farthing for any " of 
 his compositions. He had given the copyright of Childe Harold 
 and The Corsair to R. C. Dallas, who in a letter to TAe Courier 
 made a full and handsome acknowledgment of Byron's generosity 
 towards him. According to Dallas, no part of the profits of The 
 Giaour or The Bride of Abydos " ever touched Byron's hands, or 
 were disposed of for his use." The Courier reviews are printed in 
 Letters and Journals, ii. 464-5; of. iii. 28 sqq., 41.
 
 1814] LINES ON PRINCESS CHARLOTTE 247 
 
 he will answer it. To apply to the editor, or involve 
 myself in a squabble personally with a man who sells 
 advertisements would, I am told, be ridiculous ; or else 
 I have no particular objection — anything to amuse 
 anybody, is much the same to me at present. 
 
 As for the world, I neither know nor inquire into its 
 notions. You can bear me witness that few ever 
 courted it or flattered its opinions less. If it turns, 
 or has turned against me, I cannot blame it. My heart 
 is not in it, and my head better without it. 
 
 I don't know why I have scribbled this sheet full, 
 for I mean to caU upon you to-morrow. If I don't 
 find you, I shall be more lucky some other day. 
 
 Ever yrs. most affect^^, B. 
 
 {March 1814.] 
 
 My dear L"^ M., — I return A.'s letter with many 
 thanks. I have had one, too. Next week I hope to 
 see you. I am going down to Harrow for a day. 
 
 " Prosecute ? " Oh no. I am a great friend of the 
 liberty of the press, even at the expense of myself. 
 Besides, do I not deserve all this ? and am I not in 
 reality much worse than they make me ? They shall 
 not break my heart or my spirit, personally or para- 
 graphically ; but if the man, whoever he is, were deli- 
 vered bound hand and foot into my hands, I would cut 
 the cords — though, if he turned out a gentleman, I 
 might cut his throat instead. But that is to oblige 
 the world, and its regulation, and not myself. I can 
 be as savage and revengeful as anybody — but then it 
 must be on someone in one's way — or at least my equal. 
 I could have no great pastime in torturing earwigs, 
 though I dislike them as much as wolves. But I was 
 the beginner, and as long as I can be patient, I will ; 
 and when I cannot, depend upon it, I will break out 
 effectually, or not at all. Ever yrs. B. 
 
 March 30th, 1814. 
 
 My dear L^ M®, — I have turned your book', at least 
 your part of it, and think the coincidence unlucky for 
 1 Memoirs of Madainc D'Arblay.
 
 248 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 many reasons. * In the first place, everybody will read 
 M® D'Arblay, and though in a thousand points there is 
 no resemblance nor design to make one, yet the main 
 fact, at least as represented and believed by several, will 
 be recalled afresh to people's recollection, and what 
 is worse, to her own, and then Lady B[essborough] 
 will have her flutters, and C. in one of her tempers, of 
 which I can hardly teU whether the bad or the 
 good are most to be dreaded, by what I have seen of 
 her disposition. I have very little doubt that, though 
 this was written long ago, she might not erase it with 
 her many corrections, as something like it having 
 really occurred (and of which she must have heard) 
 would at least prevent her from being charged with over 
 colouring her portraits, as the scene and the assembly and 
 the public display would otherwise have certainly been 
 thrown upon her as French and not English manner. 
 
 I am in my and your Albany rooms.* I think you 
 should have been included in the lease. 
 
 I am sadly bewildered with hammering, and teaching 
 people the left hand from the right ; and very much 
 out of humour with a friend, who tells me of a serious 
 report that I am turning Methodist. 
 
 1 suppose you will say, so I am, " in good works " 
 (I don't mean scribblings) , which with them are as 
 naught. 
 
 Ever yrs., B. 
 
 P.S. I have seen the E[dinburgh] R[eview] and the 
 compliments, which Rogers says, " Scott and Campbell 
 won't like." Kind soul ! It is very handsome in 
 Jeffrey nevertheless ; and what a little mind would not 
 dare in favour of a former enemy ; it is further valuable 
 as coming from the monarch of existing criticism. 
 
 ^ Byron here alludes to Caroline Lamb's foolish conduct at Lady 
 Heathcote's. A similar scene is depicted by Madame D'Arblay, 
 i. 279 (Bickers & Son, four volumes), no date. 
 
 It is too long to quote ; all but the wounding is exactly similar to 
 Lady C. Lamb's aSair. 
 
 2 Lord Althorp's rooms. Letters and Journals, iii. 63.
 
 1814] VISIT TO MRS. LEIGH 249 
 
 April 8th, 1814. 
 
 I have been out of town since Saturday, and only 
 r eturned last night from my visit to Augusta. ^ 
 
 I swallowed the D — 1 in ye shape of a collar of brawn 
 one evening for supper (after an enormous dinner, 
 too), and it required aU kinds of brandies, and I 
 don't know what besides, to put me again in health 
 and good humour ; but I am now quite restored, and 
 it is to avoid your congratulations upon fatness 
 (which I abhor and you always inflict upon me after 
 a return from the country) that I don't pay my respects 
 to you to-day. Besides which, I dislike to see L*^ M® 
 standing by the chimney-piece, aU horror and astonish- 
 ment at my appearance while C. is within reach of 
 the twopenny postman. To-day I have been very 
 sulky ; but an hour's exercise with ]\Ir, Jackson, of 
 pugilistic memory, has given me spkits, and fatigued 
 me into that state of languid laziness, which I prefer 
 to aU other. 
 
 I left all my relations — at least my niece and her 
 mamma — very well. [Col.] L[eigh] was in Yorkshire ; 
 and I regret not having seen him of course very much. 
 My intention was to have joined a party at Cambridge ; 
 but somehow I overstaid my time, and the incHnation 
 to visit the University went off, and here I am alone, 
 and not overpleased with being so. 
 
 You don't think the " Q[uarterly] R[eview] so very 
 complimentary " ; most people do. I have no great 
 opinion on the subject, and (except in the E[dinburgh]) 
 am not much interested in any criticisms, favourable 
 or otherwise. I have had my day, have done with all 
 that stuff ; and must try something new — ^politics — or 
 rebellion — or Methodism — or gaming. Of the two last 
 I have serious thoughts, as one can't travel till we 
 see how long Paris is to be the quarter of the Allies. 
 
 I can't help suspecting that my little Pagod ^ will 
 
 ^ At Newmarket. 
 
 * Bonaparte. " Ah, my poor little pagod has walked off his 
 pedestal. He has abdicated they say. This would draw molten 
 brass from the eyes of Zatanaa." Letters and Journals, iii. 65.
 
 250 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 play them some trick still. If Wellington, or one 
 hero had beaten another, it would be nothing ; but 
 to be worried by brutes, and conquered by recruiting 
 sergeants ' — why there is not a character amongst 
 them. 
 
 Ever yrs. most affect'^, B. 
 
 April \%th, 1814. 
 
 My DEAR L^ M", — As I had no chance of seeing 
 you except under that living padlock fixed upon 
 you yesterday, I did not venture to your palace of 
 silence this afternoon. I have as yet no intention of 
 serving my sovereign " in the North," and I wish to 
 know whether (if I did incline that way) you would not 
 put Richard's question to me ? 
 
 Though I think that chance off the cards, ^ and have no 
 paramount inchnation to try a fresh deal ; yet, 
 as what I may resolve to-day may be unresolved to- 
 morrow, I should be not only unwilling, but unable 
 to make the experiment without your acquiescence. 
 
 Circumstances, which I need not recapitulate, may 
 have changed Aunfs mind ; I do not say that Niece's 
 is changed, but I should laugh if their judgments had 
 changed places, and exactly reversed upon that point. 
 In putting this question to you, my motive is all due to 
 selfishness, as a word from you could and would put an 
 end to that, or any similar possibility, without my 
 being able to say anything but " thank you." 
 Comprenez vous ? all this mystery ? it is what no one 
 else will. I think I need hardly be more intelligible. 
 To conclude with a quotation, " all this may be mere 
 speculation ; if so, think no more of it." 
 
 Ever yours, B. 
 
 * An allusion to Bliicher. 
 
 3 Evidently this alludes to Miss Milbanke's refusal, and the possi- 
 bility of both Lady Melbourne and the young lady having changed 
 their minds as to the " fitness of things." Lady M. knew too 
 much now, he supposed, for any desire that Byron should marry her 
 niece, but although Miss Milbanke had said "No" on the last 
 occasion, she might now say " Yes."
 
 1814] DINNER WITH PRINCESS OF WALES 251 
 
 April 2ith, 1814. 
 
 My dear Lady M^, — I wish to know whether I may 
 go to 1/ Hard[wick]e's on Thursday or not, because 
 you may be sure I will do what you like on that point 
 — as on all others — saving one — though nevertheless I 
 am vastly obedient thereto. 
 
 What became of you last night ? I don't know, but 
 I got into a roundabout conversation with Miss M., 
 and was obliged to call carriages, a service in which I 
 got wet through, and consequently took refuge in my 
 own, and came away. 
 
 To-day I am going with your Chevaher of Troy,^ to 
 the Prin^^ of W^ to dine and dawdle away the evening. 
 I suppose at least that C. is quiet, and I really think 
 you pay me too great a compUment, and her none, to 
 imagine any doubts of our mutual decorum and dis- 
 cretion, and all that. 
 
 Ever yrs. most inveterately, B. 
 
 April 25th, 1814. 
 
 My dear L^ :RP,— Thanks as to C though the 
 
 task will be difficult ; if she is to determine as to 
 kindness or unkindness, the best way will be to 
 avoid each other without appearing to do so, or if we 
 jostle, at any rate not to bite. 
 
 Oh ! but it is " worth while," I can't tell you why, 
 and it is not an " ^^^e," and if it is, that must be ray 
 fault ; however, I will positively reform. You must 
 however allow that it is utterly impossible I can ever 
 be half so well liked elsewhere, and I have been all my 
 life trying to make someone love me, and never got the 
 sort that I preferred before. But positively she and I 
 will grow good and all that, and so we are now and shall 
 be these three weeks and more too. 
 
 Yesterday I dined at the Princess's,* where I deported 
 myself Uke a white stick ; till, as the Devil would have 
 it, a man with a flute played a solemn and somewhat 
 tedious piece of music. Well, I got through that, 
 but down sate Lady Anne H. to give evidence at the 
 1 Sir William Gell. 2 Princess of Wales.
 
 252 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 pianoforte with a Miss Somebody (the " privy purse," 
 in a pair of spectacles — dark green) these, and the 
 flute man, and the " damnable faces " (as Hamlet 
 says) of the whole party, threw me into a convulsion 
 of uncourtly laughter, which Gell and Lady Crewe 
 encouraged ; at least the last joined in it so heartily 
 that the whooping-cough would have been an ^Eolian 
 harp in comparison to us both. At last I half strangled 
 it, and myself, with my kerchief ; and here I am grave 
 and sedate again. 
 
 You will be sorry to hear that I have got a physician 
 just in time for an old complaint, " troublesome, but 
 not dangerous," like Lord Stair andL*^ Stair's, of which 
 I am promised an eventual removal. It is very odd ; 
 he is a staid grave man, and puts so many questions 
 to me about my mind, and the state of it, that I begin 
 to think he half suspects my senses. He asked me how 
 I felt " when anything weighed upon my mind ? " 
 and I answered him by a question, why he should 
 suppose that anything did ? I was laughing and sitting 
 quietly in my chair the whole time of his visits, and yet 
 he thinks me horribly restless and irritable, and talks 
 about my having hved excessively " out of all compass " 
 some time or other ; which has no more to do with the 
 malady he has to deal with than I have with the 
 Wisdom of Solomon. 
 
 To-morrow I go to the Berrys ; on Wednesday to the 
 Jerseys ; on Thursday I dine at L*^ Grey's, and there is 
 1/ Hard[wick]e in the evening ; and on Friday I am 
 asked to a Lady Charleville's, whom I don't know,* and 
 where I shan't go. We shall meet, I hope, at one or two 
 of these places. 
 
 I don't often bore you with rhyme — ^but as a wrapper 
 to this note I send you some upon a brunette, which I 
 have shown to no one else. If you think them not 
 much beneath the common places you may give them 
 to any of your " album " acquaintances. 
 
 Evers y'^ most truly, B. 
 
 ^ Catherine, daughter and sole heiress of Thomas Townley Dawson, 
 of the Cremorne family. She married Lord Charleville in 1798.
 
 1814] MISS MILBANKE AND THE LITURGY 253 
 
 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 opinions 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 talks of " talking " over 
 the same metaphysics. To shorten the conversation, 
 I shall propose the Litany — "from the crafts and 
 
 assau " aye, that will do very weU ; what comes next, 
 
 " deliver us," an't it ? Seriously, if she imagines that 
 I particularly dehght in canvassing the creed of St. 
 Athanasius, or prattling of rhyme, I think she wiU 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 hkely I am wrong ; for assuredly 
 no one knows itself, and for aught I know, I may for 
 for these last two 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. Some- 
 times 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 FalstafE observes), and, 
 seriously, I do admire her as a very superior woman, a 
 
 X Probably this refers to a letter from Miss Milbanka.
 
 254 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 little encumbered with Virtue, though perhaps your 
 opinion and 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 and Lying-in Hospitals. 
 
 By the close of her note you will perceive that she has 
 been " frowning " occasionally, and has written some 
 pretty Unes upon it to a friend (he or she is not said). 
 As for rhyme I am naturally no fair judge, and can Uke 
 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, and 
 never can be, and what is still worse, I have no judge- 
 ment and 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 population 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 yours, B. 
 
 April 30th, 1814. 
 
 My dear Lady M^, — You — or rather I — have done 
 my A 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 telHng my own story, but 
 really and truly — as I hope mercy and happiness for 
 her — by that God who made me for my own misery, and 
 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 observa- 
 tion which I think is not unjust, that women are much
 
 1814] MISS MILBANKE 255 
 
 more attached than men if they are treated with any- 
 thing hke fairness or tenderness. 
 
 As for your A, 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 will aUow 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 Ufe. There is a party at Lady 
 J[erse]y'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 
 withR.'s^ moiety? We must talk to somebody. I 
 always give you the preference when you are disposed 
 to listen, and when you seem fidgeted, as you do now 
 and 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, and 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 and diaboUcal. 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 piu-sued and succeeded in that 
 quarter, of course I must give up aU 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 on the nearest 
 perch — if it is withdrawn it goes God knows where — 
 but one must like something. -p -d 
 
 *■ Probably Lady Ranclifie.
 
 256 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 April— May \st, 1814, 
 
 My dear Lady M*^, — She says " if la tante " ; neither 
 did she imagine nor did I assert that you did have an 
 opinion of what Philosopher Square calls " the fitness 
 of things." 
 
 You are very kind in allowing us the few merits we 
 can claim : she surely is very clever, and not only so 
 but in some things of good judgement : her expressions 
 about A* are exactly your own, and these most certainly 
 without being aware of the coincidence, and excepting 
 our one tremendous fault, I know her to be in point of 
 temper and goodness of heart almost unequalled ; now 
 grant me this, that she is in truth a very loveable woman 
 and I will try and not love any longer. If you don't 
 believe me, ask those who know her better , I say better, 
 for a man in love is blind as that deity. 
 
 You yourself soften a little in the P.S., and say the 
 letters " make you melancholy." It is indeed a very 
 triste and extraordinary business, and what is to become 
 of us I know not, and I won't think just now. 
 
 Did you observe that she says, " if la tante approved 
 she should " ? She is little aware how much " la tante " 
 has to c?t.sapprove, but you perceive that, without intend- 
 ing it, she pays me a compliment by supposing you 
 to be my friend and a sincere one, whose approval 
 could alter even her opinions. 
 
 To-morrow I am asked to Lady Jersey's in the 
 evening, and on Wednesday again. Tuesday I go to 
 Kean and dine after the play with Lord Rancliffe, and 
 on Friday there is Mrs. Hope's : we shall clash at 
 some of them. 
 
 What on earth can plague you ? I won't ask, but 
 am very sorry for it, it is very hard that one who feels 
 so much for others should suffer pain herself. God 
 bless you. Good night. 
 
 Ever yours most truly, B. 
 
 P,S. A thousand loves and excuses to Mrs. Damer 
 with whom I weep not to dine. 
 
 P.S. ad. It, indeed, puzzles me to account for ;
 
 1814] LADY CAROLINE LAMB 257 
 
 it is true she married a fool, but she would have hira ; 
 they agreed, and agree very weU, and I never heard a 
 complaint, but many vindications, of him. As for me, 
 brought up as I was, and sent into the world as I was, 
 both physically and morally, nothing better could 
 be expected, and it is odd that I always had a fore- 
 boding and I remember when a child reading the 
 Roman history about a marriage I wiU tell you of 
 when we meet, asking 7na mere why I should not 
 marry X. 
 
 Since writing this I have received the enclosed. I 
 will not trouble you with another, but this will, I think, 
 enable you to appreciate her better. She seems very 
 trisie, and I need hardly add that the reflection does not 
 enliven me. 
 
 May 16th, 1814. 
 
 My dear L^ IVF, — Your letter is not without effect 
 when I tell you that I have not written to-day and shaU 
 
 weigh my words when I write to to-morrow. I 
 
 do thank you, and as somebody says — I hope not lago 
 — " I think you know I love you well." 
 
 As for C, we both know her for a foolish wicked 
 woman. I am sorry to hear that she is still fermenting 
 her weak head and cold heart to an ice cream which will 
 only sicken everyone about her : as I heard a girl say 
 the other night at Othello, when I asked her how she 
 liked it, "I shall like it much better when that woman 
 [a bad actress in Desdemona] is fairly smothered." 
 So if C. were fanly shut up, and bread and watered 
 into common sense and some regard to truth, no one 
 would be the worse, and she herself much the better for 
 the process. 
 
 By-the-bye {entre nous, remember) she has sent for 
 Moore on some mysterious concern, which he wiU tell 
 me probably, at least if it regards the old eternal, and 
 never sufficiently to be bored with, story. 
 
 I dine at Lord Jersey's to-morrow — that is, I am asked, 
 and (to please you) I am trying to fall in love, which I 
 suppose will end in falling out with somebody, for I am
 
 258 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 perplexed about two and would rather have both. I 
 don't see any use in one without a chance at least of 
 the other. 
 
 But all this is nonsense. I won't say a word more 
 about your grievance, though I cannot at all conceive 
 what there can be more now than ever to plague you 
 anywhere, particularly as C. has nothing to do with it. 
 
 Horace Twiss has sent me his melodies, which I 
 perceive are inscribed to you ; don't you think yourself 
 lucky to have escaped one of imj dedications ? I am 
 going to dine at Wm. Spencer's to-day. I believe I 
 told you the claret story at Mrs. Hope's last ball but 
 one. 
 
 Ever yours most affectionately, B. 
 
 P.S. I am just elected into Watier's.^ Shall I 
 resume 'play ? That will be a change, and for the better. 
 
 May 28th, 1814. 
 
 Dear Lady M[elbofrn]e, — ^I have just received a 
 wrathful epistle from C. demanding letters, pictures, and 
 aU kinds of gifts which I never requested, and am ready 
 to resign as soon as they can be gathered together ; 
 at the same signal it might be as well for her to restore 
 my letters, as everybody has read them by this time, 
 and they can no longer be of use to herself and her 
 five hundred sympathizing friends. She also com- 
 plains of some barbarous usage, of which I know 
 nothing, except that I was told of an inroad which 
 occurred when I was fortunately out ; and am not at all 
 disposed to regret the circumstance of my absence, 
 either for her sake or my own. I am also menaced 
 in her letter with immediate marriage, of which I am 
 equally unconscious ; at least / have not proposed to 
 anybody, and if anyone has to me I have quite forgotten 
 it. If she alludes to L[ad]y A[delaide] r[orbes] she has 
 made a sad mistake ; for not a syllable of love ever 
 
 ^ In Piccadilly, at the comer of Bolton Street. Originally 
 founded for musical gatherings, it became a great centre of gambling, 
 and here Brummell loat much of his money. Letters and Journals, 
 ii. 128.
 
 1814] LADY MELBOURNE'S INFLUENCE 259 
 
 passed between us, but a good deal of heraldry, and 
 mutual hatred of music ; the merits of Mr. Kean, and 
 the excellence of white soup and plovers' eggs for a 
 light supper. Besides, Lady R., who is good authority, 
 says that / do not care about L^ A., nor L^ A. about me, 
 and that if such an impossibility did occur, she could 
 not possibly approve of it, nor anyone else ; in all which 
 I quite acquiesce with y*" said Lady R., with whom, 
 however, I never had a moment's conversation on the 
 subject ; but hear this from a friend, who is in very bad 
 humour with her, and not much better with me ; why, 
 I can't divine, being as innocent and ill-used as C. 
 herself in her very best story. If you can fare her 
 down to good humour, do. I am really at this moment 
 thinking as little of the person with whom she 
 commits me to matrimony, as of herself ; and I mean 
 to leave London next week if I can. In the meantime, 
 I hope we shall meet at Lady Grey's, or Clare's this 
 evening. 
 
 Ever y", most aiiectionately, B. 
 
 June lOth, 1814. 
 
 Dear Lady M^, — I don't remember one syllable of 
 such a request ; but the truth is that I do not always 
 read y® letters through. She has no more variety than 
 my maccaw ; and her note is not much more musical. 
 Judge then, whether (being also in y^ delectable situa- 
 tion which winds up the moral of your note) I can 
 attend the y® [sic] same tones if there is a nightingale, 
 or a canary bird to be got by love, or money. 
 
 All you say is exceeding true ; but who ever said, or 
 supposed that you were not shocked, and aU that? 
 You have done everything in your power ; and more 
 than any other person breathmg would have done for 
 me, to make me act rationally ; but there is an old 
 saying (excuse the Latin, which I won't quote, but 
 translate), " Whom the gods wish to destroy they 
 first madden." I am as mad as C. on a different topic, 
 and in a different way ; for I never break out into scenes, 
 but am not a whit more in my senses. I will, however, 
 1—18
 
 260 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 not persuade her into any fugitive piece of absurdity, 
 but more I cannot promise. I love no one else (in a 
 proper manner), and, whatever you may imagine, I 
 cannot, or at least do not, put myself in the way of — 
 let me see — AnnabeUa is the most prudish and correct 
 person I know, so I refer you to the last emphatic 
 substantive, in her last letter to you. 
 
 There is that little Lady R. teUs me that C. has taken 
 a sudden fancy to her — what can that be for ? C. has 
 also taken some offence at Lady G. Sloane's frigid 
 appearance ; and supposes that Augusta, who never 
 troubles her head about her, has said somethiug or other 
 on my authority — this I remember is in C. 's last letter — 
 one of her twaddling questions I presume — she seems 
 puzzled about me, and not at all near the truth. The 
 DevU, who ought to be civil on such occasions,^ will 
 probably keep her from it still ; if he should not, I 
 must invent some flirtation, to lead her from approach- 
 ing it, 
 
 1 am sorry to hear of your tristesse, and conceive that 
 I have at last guessed or perceived the real cause ; 
 it won't trouble you long ; besides, what is it or any- 
 thing else compared with our melodrame ? Take 
 comfort, you very often give it. 
 
 Ever y", B. 
 
 June 2lst, 1814. 
 
 Since I wrote last night I have received the two 
 enclosed. What shall I do about Ph. and her epistles ? 
 since by her own account they run great hazard in their 
 way to her. I am willing to give them up, but she 
 says not a syllable about mine ; no matter. 
 
 The other is from A.,^ and prim and pretty as usual. 
 Somebody or other has been seized with a fit of amaze- 
 ment at her correspondence with so naughty a person- 
 
 ^ Byron frequently refers to the civility of the devil. The 
 expression is taken from the Meinoirs oj De Grammont, vol. i, 
 chapter viii : " The devil, who ought to be civil upon such occasions, 
 forgot himself in the present instance." 
 
 2 Miss Milbanke,
 
 1814] LADY CAROLINE LAMB 2G1 
 
 age, and this has naturally given a fillup of contradiction 
 in my favour which was much wanted. 
 
 Ever yf, B. 
 
 June 26th, 1814. 
 
 My dear L^ M?, — To continue the conversation 
 which Lord C has broken off by falling asleep (and 
 his wife by keeping awake) I know nothing of C.'s last 
 night adventures ; to prove it there is her letter which 
 I have not read through, nor answered nor written these 
 two months, and then only by desire to keep her quiet. 
 
 You talked to me about keeping her out. It is 
 impossible; she comes at all times, at any time, and the 
 moment the door is open in she walks. I can't throw 
 her out of the window : as to getting rid of her, that 
 is rational and probable, but / will not receive her. 
 
 The Bessboroughs may take her if they please ; 
 I have no hesitation in saying that I have made up my 
 mind as to the alternative, and would sooner, much 
 sooner, be with the dead in purgatory, than with her, 
 Caroline (I put the name at length as I am not jesting), 
 upon earth. 
 
 She may hirnt me down — it is the power of any mad 
 or bad woman to do so by any man — but snare me she 
 shaU not : torment me she may ; how am I to bar myself 
 from her 1 I am already almost a prisoner ; she has 
 no shame, no feeling, no one estimable or redeemable 
 quality. 
 
 These are strong words, but I know what I am 
 writing ; they will avail nothing but to convince you of 
 my own determination. My first object in such a 
 
 dUemma would be to take 'with me ; that might fail, 
 
 so much the better, but even if it did — I would lose 
 a hundred souls rather than be bound to C. If there ia 
 one human being whom I do utterly detest and abhor it is 
 she, and, aU things considered, I feel to myself justified 
 in so doing. She has been an adder in my path ever 
 since my return to this country ; she has often belied 
 
 I Name carefully blotted and scored out by Byron.
 
 262 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 and sometimes betrayed me ; she has crossed me 
 everywhere, she has watched and worried and grieved 
 and been a cm^se to me and mine. 
 
 You may show her this if you please — or to anyone 
 you please ; if these were the last words I were to write 
 upon earth I would not revoke one letter except to 
 make it more legible. 
 
 Ever yours most sincerely, Bykon. 
 
 June 28th, 1814. 
 
 My deae L"^ M[elbourn]e, — ^I must assure you 
 that I did not see nor hear of C. on Saturday, and that 
 all bolts, bars, and silence can do to keep her away 
 are done daily and hourly. I had written a long, savage 
 letter about her last night, which I will send another 
 time. 
 
 You must send me back the enclosed, both A.^s and 
 the other immediately, as one must be returned by the 
 post. I need not say be secret : though, after all, 
 neither are of any importance, but will amuse you as 
 they do me, with the fusses into which our friendship, 
 quarrels, and relationship appear to involve people to 
 the third and fourth generation. You will see how 
 demure I must have been, and the passage about Ma 
 (and the separate answer) is something in A.'s style, 
 and like all very correct people when they set about 
 secrecy. 
 
 Pray forgive, and laugh, and be silent, and believe 
 me, 
 
 Most affec*y y", B. 
 
 P.S, — You need not write, but enclose these back by 
 the bearer if you can. I must send this back by the 
 Post. 
 
 July 2nd, 1814. 
 
 Deab Lady M., — ^I leave town to-morrow for two 
 or three days, and as I shall probably be occupied 
 at Cambridge, I may as well " say my say " with 
 regard to C. "Conquer!" Oh no — C7•^lsh — if you
 
 1814] A MASKED BALL 263 
 
 please, and not unlikely whether she goes or stays. She 
 perplexed me very much with questions and guesses — 
 and as I verily believe her growing actually and 
 seriously disordered in her intellects, there is no con- 
 jecturing what she may assert or do, as far as I can 
 judge from observation, not less towards myself than 
 others (though in a different way to the last), she 
 cannot be in her senses. I was obliged to talk to her, 
 for she laid hold of Hobhouse, and passed before where 
 another person and myself were discussing points of 
 Platonism ; so frequently and remarkably, as to make 
 us anticipate a scene ; and as she was masked, and 
 dominoed, and it was dayhght, there could be little 
 harm, and there was at least a probability of more 
 quiet. Not all I could say could prevent her from dis- 
 plajdng her green 'pantaloons every now and then; though 
 I scolded like her grandfather upon these very uncalled 
 for, and unnecessary gesticulations. Why do you say 
 that I was mistaken about another mask with you ? 
 I never even pretended to guess at so pious a person, 
 nor supposed they were in so profane an assembly, and 
 now I am convinced they were not there at all ; since 
 you tell me of the illness of the httle boy, who so happily 
 recovered, by the timely devotion of her staying away 
 to take care of him. 
 
 To be sure, I thought I saw somebody very hke ; 
 but there is no trusting to likenesses, and it is not easy 
 to unmask anybody, even without their pasteboard. 
 
 I don't wonder at your dislike to C, &c., and what- 
 ever absurdity, or enormity, her madness may plunge 
 me into, I do think you have already done at least 
 tenfold more than anyone on earth would have done ; 
 and if you were to do more, I should conceive you no 
 less mad than herself. I thank you for the past, for 
 the thousandth time, and as to the present and future 
 I shall parry her o£E as well as I can, and if foiled, I 
 must abide by the consequence : so there's an end. 
 After all, it is not much your concern (except as far 
 as good nature went), and rests between me and the 
 Blarneys, whom I regard not. To yourself I own that
 
 264 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 I am anxious to appear as having done all that could 
 be done to second your wishes in breaking oS the con- 
 nection, which would have been effectual with any, or 
 every other person. 
 
 I am glad you were amused with 's correspon- 
 dent. is very much astonished, but in very good 
 
 humour, and I too — on account of my theory, of which, 
 by-the-bye, I despaired very much at first in the 
 present instance. I think I should make a good Tar- 
 tuffe ; it was by paring down my demeanour to a very 
 quiet and hesitating deportment, which however my 
 natural shyness (though that goes off at times) 
 helped to forward, that I ensured the three days' 
 recollection of 's amiable ally. 
 
 Good-bye, for the present. I am still sadly sleepy 
 with the wear and tear of the last two nights, and have 
 had nothing for my trouble. * I wanted very much to 
 talk to you, but you preferred Robinson. The next 
 time he breaks a leg I shall be less sorry, and send you 
 to nurse him. 
 
 I am in amity (the purest, and of course most insipid) 
 with a person ; and one condition is, that I am to 
 tell her her faults without reserve. How long do you 
 think such a treaty, fully observed, would endure ? 
 I will tell you — five minutes. I was assailed by a Mask 
 for some time, teazing enough, but with a sweet voice, 
 and someone of whom all I could learn was that " I had 
 said of her, she Imd been very beautiful." This 
 quite cured my desire of discovery, as such a 
 
 1 The members of Watier's Club gave a fete, at Burlington House, 
 in honour of the Duke of Wellington's return, on 1 July 1814. 
 The incidents mentioned in this letter probably occurred on that 
 occasion. Hobhouse {Recollections, i. 156) says : " At nine put on 
 my Albanian Dress and went with Byron to the masquerade. 
 Seventeen hundred persons sat at ease in the Supper-room. BjTon 
 as a monk looked very well. The Duke of Wellington was there 
 in great good humour, and not squeezed to death. Lady C. Lamb 
 played off the most extraordinary tricks — made Skeffington pull 
 ofi his red Guard's coat, walked up into the private rooms. I 
 walked home between six and seven."
 
 1814] AT HASTINGS WITH HODGSON 265 
 
 speech could never be forgiven, so I told her, and 
 got away. 
 
 Good-bye again. 
 
 Ever most affectionately, B. 
 
 [July] 2nd, 1814. 
 
 My deab L^ ]yP, — As the last two letters amused 
 you, perhaps these may (they seem to arrive both always 
 by the same post) ; only have the goodness to think of 
 the return of the said post, and to let me have it for 
 the impatient, who will be in such a fidget if not pos- 
 sessed of it again immediately. 
 
 I was up tiU seven this morning, and the last person 
 who left the room (I believe). I had a long conversa- 
 tion with C. (closely masked, that is she, but always 
 trying to indicate who she was, not to me so much as 
 to everybody), but nothing more, or very particular. 
 
 I am so sleepy that I hope you will say something to 
 enUven or at least awaken me, as you went to bed 
 earlier; but don't trouble yourself to write now, as 
 I know your fusses in a morning. 
 
 Believe me, ever y" most truly, B. 
 
 Azigust I5th, 1814. 
 
 Dear Lady IVP, — Perceiving by the paper that you 
 are in town (where I have only been within these 
 last few days), I have sent you some grouse (four 
 brace), and hope that they are fresh and in eatable 
 order. 
 
 I shaU leave London before y® end of the week, or 
 about it ; and if you are not inscrutable and unvisit- 
 able by mortals, wiU take my chance of finding you 
 some morning at home. I have been at the sea,^ and 
 in it ; and am going to Newstead, I believe for a week 
 or so, and thence I know not whither. You will not 
 be sorry to hear that of C. I have heard nothing for 
 
 * At Hastings with Hodgson. See letter to Moore, Letters and 
 Journals, iii. 117.
 
 266 MARRIAGE [oh. v 
 
 some time ; and that there is every reason to believe 
 that we are come to a conclusive and happy separation. 
 I see that the Continent is happy in the presence 
 of Lady Blarney, the Princess of Wales, and various 
 other persons of honour ; and I hear that one friend, 
 of indifferent memory, M® de Stael, has been bowed out 
 of Paris for some of those bright remarks which will 
 doubtless appear in her next preface. Ever y'^, B. 
 
 Byron to Hothouse 
 Newstead Abbey, September I2th, 1814. 
 
 My dear Hobhouse, — Claughton has rehnquished 
 his purchase, and twenty-five thousand pounds out 
 of twenty-eight ditto, paid on account, and I am 
 Abbot again — it is all signed, sealed, and re-deUvered. 
 
 So much for your enquiry — he wishes to reneiv — but 
 I will first see an' the monies be palpable and 
 tangible, before I re-contract with him or others — 
 though if he could complete, I should have no 
 objections, on the old terms. 
 
 But now for other matters : — if a circumstance 
 (which may happen but is as unHkely to happen as 
 Johanna Southcote estabhshing herself as the real Mrs. 
 Trinity) does not occur^ — I havethoughts of going direct 
 and directly to Italy — if so, will you come with me ? 
 
 I want your opinion first, your advice afterwards, 
 and your company always : — I am pretty well in 
 funds, having better than £4,000 at Hoare's — a note of 
 Murray for £700 (the price of Larry) ^ at a year's date 
 last month, and the Newstead Michaelmas will give 
 me from a thousand to 15 — if not 1800 more. I 
 beheve it is raised to between 3 and 4,000, but then 
 there is land upon hand (which of course payeth no 
 rent for the present, and be damned to it) ; altogether 
 I should have somewhere about £5,000 tangible, which 
 I am not at all disposed to spend at home. Now I 
 would wish to set apart £3000 for the tour, do you think 
 
 1 This refers to his second proposal to Miss Milbanke. See Letters 
 and Journals, iii. 135. 
 
 2 Lara.
 
 1814] ENGAGEMENT 267 
 
 that would enable me to see all Italy in a gentlemanly 
 way ? with as few servants and luggage (except my 
 aperients) as we can help. And will you come with 
 me 1 You are the only man with whom I could travel 
 an hour except an " ldrpo<i " ; in short you know, my 
 
 dear H , that with all my bad quahties (and d — d 
 
 bad they are to be sure) I like you better than anybody 
 — ^and we have travelled together before, and been old 
 friends, and all that, and we have a thorough fellow- 
 feehng, and contempt for all things of the sublunary 
 sort — and so do let us go and call the " Pantheon a 
 cockpit," Uke the learned Smelfungus.' 
 
 The cash is the principal point — do you think that 
 will do ? — viz. £3,000 clear — ^from embarkation on- 
 wards. 
 
 I have a world of watches and snuff boxes and tele- 
 scopes — which would do for the Mussulmans, if we liked 
 to cross from Otranto and see our friends again. 
 
 They are all safe at Hammersley's — would my coach 
 do ? — heds I have and all canteens, &c. from yo^ir 
 man of Ludgate Hill — with saddles, pistols, tromboni, 
 and what not. 
 
 I shall know to-morrow, or next day, whether I can 
 go or not, and shall be in town next week, where I must 
 see you, or hear from you ; if we set off, it should be 
 in October, and the earlier the better. 
 
 Now don't engage yourself, but take up your map and 
 ponder upon this. 
 
 Ever, dear H., yours most affectionately, B, 
 
 Note by Hobhouse in pencil on the back of this 
 letter : — 
 
 1814. A post or two after this letter brought me 
 another letter, stating that he was going to be married 
 to Miss Milbanke. J. C. Hobhouse. 
 
 Byron to Lady Melbourne 
 
 Newstead Abbev, [Sundayl September \^th, 1814. 
 
 My dear Lady M"^, — IVIiss Milbanke has accepted me ; 
 and her answer was accompanied by a very kind letter 
 * Sterne's Sentimental Journey, 1760.
 
 268 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 from your brother. May I hope for your consent, too ? 
 Without it I should be unhappy, even were it not for 
 many reasons important in other points of view ; and 
 with it I shall have nothing to require, except your 
 good wishes now, and your friendship always. 
 
 I lose no time in telling you how things are at present. 
 Many circumstances may doubtless occur in this, as 
 in other cases, to prevent its completion, but I will 
 hope otherwise. 
 
 I shall be in town by Thursday [22 Sept.], and beg 
 one hne to Albany, to say you will see me at your own 
 day, hour, and place. 
 
 In course I mean to reform most thoroughly, and 
 become " a good man and true," in all the various 
 senses of these respective and respectable appellations. 
 Seriously, I will endeavour to make your niece happy ; 
 not by " my deserts, but what I will deserve." Of 
 my deportment you may reasonably doubt ; of her 
 merits you can have none. 
 
 I need not say that this must be a secret. Do let me 
 find a few words from you in Albany, and believe me 
 ever 
 
 Most affec*'y y", B. 
 
 Albany, September 23rd, 1814. 
 
 My dear L^ M^, — Many thanks. I am just arrived. 
 I thought, at least I heard, that C. was gone to France. 
 See her I will not, if I can help it, and if I did, nothing 
 could come of it now, though the consequences might 
 be as unpleasant ; but no matter, much plague, if 
 not misery, had probably been saved by her absence. 
 
 Perhaps it would be as well to teU her at once ; it 
 can hardly be kept a secret long, and the quantity of 
 letters which lately passed between Seaham and New- 
 stead^ can hardly have escaped the servants (the letter- 
 
 1 This seems to settle the point, and disposes of Hobhouse'a 
 statement {Recollections, ii. 193) that Byron was at his sister's house, 
 near Newmarket, when he wrote to propose marriage to Miss 
 Milbanke. He wrote on 14 Sept. from Newstead, and the reply 
 was received on the 18th.
 
 1814] SETTLEMENTS 269 
 
 bags being lost since my last visit), a species of persons 
 from whom I suspect C. derives most of her information. 
 If Annabella has any firmness, if she has even any 
 woman in her composition, C. will only lose her labom: 
 by trying to mar the match. I am glad you liked A.'s 
 letter to you. Augusta said that to me (the decisive 
 one) was the best and prettiest she ever read. It was 
 really perfect, and so much the more welcome, as 
 almost all the former ones were written evidently 
 mider embarrassment of feeling and expression. 
 
 I have written to my agent, who is coming to town 
 to get my property in matrimonial array. Whether 
 A. is to have any fortune or not, I do not know, and 
 am not very anxious ; at least / will not be off under 
 any circumstances, unless she sets me the example. 
 The only thing is this : if she has nothing I had better 
 sell N[ewstea]d again, as I can thus give her a better 
 settlement. Mr. C[laughto]n has renewed his offers 
 (on the old terms, and begs the refusal ; that is, to 
 complete his former bargain, if I sell ; but of these things 
 hereafter. I could also seU R[ochdale] for a round 
 sum. However, I can only repeat, and very sincerely, 
 that I will settle on her aU I can ; and that her circum- 
 stances wiU make no difference to me (if Sir R. is dipped, 
 as I have heard is the case), and my property, such 
 as it is, shall go as far as it may, for her. I would do 
 almost anything rather than lose her now. 
 
 Pray let me hear from you. I only wait for my law- 
 yer's arrival, and a day or two's consultation with him, 
 to go down to Seaham, where I am invited " most 
 cordially." But I must see you first. I have so much 
 to say, and am writing to no purpose, but answer me. 
 
 Ever y" most affect'^, B. 
 
 P.S. I heartily hope this will go on, to say nothing 
 of your niece and myself. How much more comfortable 
 we should aU be (if C. were but rational), meeting 
 occasionally like other people, and not in this half 
 hostile way. I really shaU be all the better for it ; 
 one half of my faults and scrapes have arisen from not
 
 270 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 being settled, and I think that the (Bourbon) Philips 
 of Spain were not more disposed to be docile to their 
 moieties than yom* nephew (I hope) that is to be. 
 
 As to Annabella, you cannot think higher of her than 
 I do. I never doubted anything but that she would 
 have me. After all it is a match of your making, and 
 better had it been had your proposal been accepted at 
 the time. I am quite horrified in casting up my moral 
 accounts of the two intervening years, all which would 
 have been prevented, and the heartache into the bar- 
 gain, had she — but I can't blame her, and there is 
 time yet to do very well. 
 
 My pride (which my schoolmaster said was my ruling 
 passion) has in all events been spared. She is the only 
 woman to whom I ever proposed in that way, and it is 
 something to have got into the affirmative at last, I 
 wish one or two of one's idols had said No instead ; 
 however, all that is over. I suppose a married man 
 never gets anybody else, does he ? I only ask for 
 information. 
 
 September 26th, 1814. 
 
 My dear L^ M^, — I sent you a long letter on Satur- 
 day, which I hope you received safely. 
 
 Annabella has written to me, and says that " a 
 continuance of secrecy appears unnecessary, and that 
 she has already told her own friends." 
 
 I only wait to see my agent, and arrange my worldly 
 affairs, to go down to S[eaham]. But do let me see 
 you first, or at any rate, write to me, in answer to my 
 last. You had better tell C. at once ; it cannot be 
 helped, she must do her worst, if so disposed. I am 
 very sorry for it, if such is her disposition, and must 
 bear it as well as I can. 
 
 Excuse this scrawl, it is the hundredth of to-day, 
 and believe me ever my dear Zia, 
 
 Y'' most dutifully, B. 
 
 September 28th, 1814. 
 
 My dear L^ M^, — I am truly grieved to hear of
 
 1814] PUBLIC ANNOUNCEMENTS 271 
 
 Lady Cowper's illness/ as she must ever be one of the 
 most honom-ed of my new relatives (that are to be). 
 Do tell me when she is better, as I shall feel anxious, 
 not only for her, but you, till I know. 
 
 All my connections are in great grief on the loss of 
 my first cousin, Sir Peter Parker, a very gallant and 
 popular character, whom even his wife could not help 
 loving, poor feUow.^ You wiU have seen his death in 
 the Gazette of our late American victory. I have not 
 seen him since we were boys together ; but aU our 
 family, even to the selfishness of the Howards, 
 must be sorry for him. Lady P' was much attached 
 to him. 
 
 The secret is a secret no longer, for Annabella has 
 written to her uncle, L*^ W[entworth], who is pleased 
 to be pleased with it ; and it has besides been imparted 
 to the whole city of Seaham, which, it seems, is very 
 glad too. And as (to use her words) " her happiness " 
 has thus far been " made known," it may probably 
 reach the ears of C, and, in that case, interfere con- 
 foundedly with mine. 
 
 1 don't much admire this kind of publicity, on account 
 of the fuss and foolery it produces. It has always 
 seemed to me very odd that so much ceremony should 
 be made of a thing so very simple in itself ; and it is 
 so much worse in the country, that I would rather be 
 married, no matter where, but I should think any place 
 better than the house of one's papa. I quite agree 
 with you, that it were best over ; but I have several 
 previous arrangements that must take place before I 
 can even go down there. I shall make no limitation 
 about settlements, as far as my property will go, nor 
 did I pay my addresses to her with the notion of her 
 being a very considerable ^parti, so that I am much more 
 
 ^ Amelia Lamb, daughter of Lord Melbourne, married in 1806 
 the fifth Earl Cowper, who died in 1837. Lady Cowper, in 1839, 
 married Lord Palmerston, 
 
 2 Sir Peter Parker, the second Baronet, was born in 1786. He 
 commanded H.M.S. Menelaus, and was killed in an attack on a 
 body of American Militia near Baltimore. Byron wrote his elegy.
 
 272 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 afraid of her, and hers, being disappointed in that 
 respect than myself. 
 
 Don't let me bore you, but when 1/ Cowper is better, 
 and you have leisure, allow me to hear from you, and 
 believe me ever and a,&^^^^^ 
 
 Y", B. 
 
 P.S. I have heard and seen nothing of C, and of 
 course hope I shall not. 
 
 October 1st, 1814. 
 
 My dear L^ M., — Your description of my uncle is 
 infinitely inviting. By your account he is an Elzevir 
 Edition of Mr. Penn of facetious memory; and to 
 crown all, the most important personage of " both 
 your houses " ; if so, the longer I stay away the better ; 
 for I never could recommend myself to an old person 
 in my life ; and the circumstance of these expectations 
 of A[nnabella]'s would do no good. 
 
 I am sure, without intending it, I should offend in 
 some way or other. I never tried to keep any one in 
 good humour, without blundering. 
 
 I cannot go to Seaham, for I know not how long. 
 My agent can't leave his son-in-law, L*^ P[ortsmouth] 
 at present, and wants me to go there, which is not in 
 my power ; at least, it is very much out of my way, and 
 my inclination, so I must wait his time, which will 
 not be very long. The moment I can go to Seaham I 
 will, and yet I feel very odd about it, not her ; it is 
 nothing but shyness, and a hatred of strangers, which 
 I never could conquer. 
 
 I wish so much to see you. I have a thousand things 
 to say about, not C. nor any person you may imagine, 
 not a married person either, nor a mistress either, and 
 yet a woman of course ; in short, it is something that 
 was going on very well, not exactly with me, but 
 with, or through the medium of X (you may guess 
 by those with whom I have lately been), when lo, upon 
 a scheme, or rather the prospect of a scheme, with 
 another of the family's speculation, a perplexity
 
 1814] INVITED TO SEAHAM 273 
 
 ensued, which of course put an end to that. In short, 
 it is such an intricate and involved piece of manage- 
 ment altogether, that I cannot explain it now, but if 
 you guess to whom it refers, do not breathe it, for A. 
 (neither of the A.'s), would ever forgive me, to say 
 nothing of other letters of the alphabet. My proposal 
 to A[nnabeUa] followed this ; and now from some fresh 
 circumstances, my confidante feels a difficulty in 
 breaking the acceptance which ensued upon it, to her 
 friend. Why, I cannot exactly see, since it never 
 came to anything like either with her, and what reaUy 
 was, was always rather implied than expressed by either 
 party. ^ 
 
 Then C, I cannot help any mischief she may do ; 
 it will be a pity, because Annabella appears to like 
 me, and I am sincerely disposed to do her justice, and 
 to love her with all my heart. 
 
 I have not seen C. nor shall I if I can help it. 
 
 It gives me much pleasure to hear that L*^^ C7 is 
 better, and your sprain ? Deuce take it, you shall 
 leave your friendship for me as an inheritance to 1/ 
 Cow', and as I hope it will not devolve for these forty 
 years, by that time I may be " rational " enough to 
 receive my legacy with propriety. 
 
 Y" ever, B. 
 
 October ith, 1814. 
 
 My dear L^ IVP, — ^A. never threw obstacles in the 
 way ; on the contrary, she has been more urgent than 
 even you, that I should go to S[eaham] and wished 
 me to set out from N[ewstead] instead of London. She 
 wished me much to marry, because it was the only 
 
 1 In order to understand this mystery it may be as well to explain 
 that either Byron's sister, or some other confidante, had entered into 
 correspondence with a daughter of Lady Stafford, with a view to 
 finding out whether a proposal of marriage by Byron would be 
 acceptable. The " perplexity which ensued " is explained in Byron'a 
 letters to Lady Melbourne (4 and 7 Oct.). The young lady in 
 question married (27 Dec. 1814) Henry, Earl of Surrey, only son of 
 the Duke of Norfolk. The story of BjTon's meeting with her will be 
 fovind in Letters and Journals, iii. 96, 699.
 
 274 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 chance of redemption for two persons, and was sure if I 
 did not that I should only step from one scrape into 
 another, particularly if I went abroad. I had settled 
 everything to go to Italy with Mr. Hobhouse, if 
 A[nnabeUa] had not accepted me. 
 
 The other was undoubtedly her favourite, but no one 
 could acquiesce in this with a better grace, as I could 
 convince you by her letters and conduct at that time. 
 
 Her friend after a certain time was seized with a 
 panic, on some family scheme (which I will tell you 
 when we meet) of a, compact elsewhere. The fact is, the 
 little girl had no will of her own ; and might not be 
 aware of what she had been doing ; but her frequent 
 epistles, and excessive attachment to X both so much 
 more numerous and friendly than ever before, with 
 sentences which were not to be answered, or if answered, 
 replied to in a particular manner, etc., with a hundred 
 little things, which I don't understand, but which 
 convinced X of her disposition ; all produced this 
 episode in our drama, x always thought her the only 
 person perhaps who would suit. It is my suspicion 
 (but I am probably wrong), that la Mere * was not 
 ignorant either ; but that circumstances, a better 
 prospect in another quarter, and the never to be 
 adjusted family quarrel made her alter ; and the young 
 one was perhaps her dupe. Of course, the demoiselle 
 and X were the only persons who made their appear- 
 ance on the stage, and / was supposed or rather pre- 
 sumed to know nothing of it ; and la Mere also. But 
 this I can hardly conceive ; you will recollect that it 
 never came to yes or no, or anything direct. 
 
 It went ofif thus : after one very long letter, which X 
 answered, came another full of alarms — " she had been 
 so foolish," and was in such a dilemma ; such and such 
 persons were coming, and such and such a scheme was 
 to be brought forward, what was she to do ? I made X 
 write a kind but satisfactory answer, taking it all on 
 herself, and getting the other out of it completely, and 
 there it ended, and they are all good friends still. I 
 * Lady Staftord.
 
 1814] LADY CAROLINE LAMB 275 
 
 then said to X , after consoling her on the subject, that 
 I would try the next myself, as she did not seem to be 
 in luck. The prospect (for A[nnabeUa] had been 
 bewildering herself sadly, and did not appear to be 
 much better disposed towards me than formerly) was 
 not very promising ; however, the stars, I presume, did 
 it. The rest you know. 
 
 X has written to A. to express how much all my 
 relations are pleased by the event, &c, &c. 
 
 It is in the Morning Post of this day, from the 
 Durham paper ; so that C. will hear it soon. With 
 regard to any " hitch,'' ^ how can either party be off ? 
 It shall not be my doing in any case ; but, surely, you 
 cannot wonder that I should wish to arrange my 
 property first ; and not proceed hurriedly in a business 
 which is to decide her fate and mine for ever. 
 
 Ever y"^^ most truly, B. 
 
 P.S. I enclose a letter which will explain what I 
 have been saying ; but answer me by return, as I shall 
 feel odd till I get it again. 
 
 October 5th, 1814. 
 
 My dear L'^^ M^, — C, I suspect, has been at 
 her cursed tricks again ; the D[urham] paragraph is 
 contradicted in the M. Chronicle. I have written to 
 Perry, but it could only be her, no one else has the 
 motive or the mahgnity to be so petty. 
 
 If she proceeds, I can only appeal to you whether I 
 have not done all in my power to break off ; indeed, 
 I have neither heard from, nor seen her since July (I 
 think) ; well, I must bear it, I presume. X 's friend 
 has written to her just the letter she ought, full of 
 congratulations, so that is all right, and X was mistaken. 
 I did not, I assure you, know the contents of K[innaird's] 
 letter ; but he is an old friend of mine, and if he is an 
 old friend of mine, and if he likes me, you must at least 
 allow him to be a good-natured soul. The moment I 
 have seen Hanson, to whom I have written most 
 peremptorily, I shall set out for S[eaham]. In the 
 1—19
 
 276 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 meantime do all for me you can. I assure you these 
 delays are not of my deserving. 
 
 Ever y" most truly, B. 
 
 It is not C, I beg her pardon. I think I know the 
 hand which Perry has sent me, and if I can bring it 
 home, woe to the writer. 
 
 October 1th, 1814. 
 
 My deab, L"^ M^, — ^I cannot fix yet upon the 
 contradictory paragraph writer, but I think it is 
 Claughton, it is very like his hand, but Kinnaird, who 
 saw it, doubted, and so must I. Let it sleep for the 
 present. X is the least selfish person in the world ; 
 you, of course, will never believe that either of us 
 can have any right feeUng. I won't deny this as far as 
 regards me, but you don't know what a being she is ; 
 her only error has been my fault entirely, and for this I 
 can plead no excuse, except passion, which is none. I 
 forgot to say that X and her friend had one interview 
 in the summer, which the friend came several miles to 
 encounter, and it was that more than anything else that 
 made X believe in the practicabihty of her scheme.* 
 When they parted X said, " May I write whatever I 
 please without getting you into any dilemma ? " &c. 
 The answer was, yes. All this made me believe that the 
 exquisite politician who brought her into the world 
 could not be altogether ignorant. The new plan is this 
 (a secret, of course, and do you keep it better than / 
 have in this instance), young Howard, the Norfolk, and a 
 Mr. Bellasyse, his uncle or cousin, are invited, and he is 
 to take his choice of the family, so that both are in 
 requisition for the present, and as X could not persuade 
 me to wait the reversion (notwithstanding all the 
 probabilities that the younger would be the winner), 
 I hope she may secure him ; as she is the favourite of 
 the uncle it is not unhkely. All this the poor httle 
 soul wrote clandestinely to X in her eagerness to 
 
 ^ The scheme being, to arrange a marriage between Byron and 
 Lady Charlotte Sophia, eldest daughter of George, Marquis of 
 Stafford, K.G.
 
 1814] SETTLEMENTS 277 
 
 vindicate herself, and betrayed this pretty piece of 
 poUcy. Whether it will do I don't know, but thus they 
 are at present. Mr. Hanson comes to town to-day, so 
 that I hope to get down to S[eaham] soon. I hear 
 nothing but praises and wonders of my wife elect ( X 
 says that she hears her called " very pretty " too, 
 by somebody), and it is a most popular match amongst 
 all my relations and acquaintances. You very much 
 mistake me if you think I am lukewarm upon it ; quite 
 the reverse ; and I have even the conceit to think 
 that I shall suit her better than a better person might ; 
 because she is not so cold as I thought her ; and if I 
 think she hkes me, I shall be exactly what she pleases ; 
 it is her fault if she don't govern me properly, for never 
 was anybody more easily managed. You ought to hke 
 this match, for it is one of your making ; and I hope 
 not the worst of your performances in that way. You 
 can't conceive how I long to call you Aunt. I hope 
 then to see a great deal of you ; and even of Brocket 
 in the course of time. 
 
 Yrs. ever, B. 
 
 P.S. I heard from A[nnabella] to-day. She says 
 L^ W[entworth] " pleases me by his strong prepossession 
 in your favour. He is proud of his future nephew," 
 I must insist on your being equally prepossessed, ma 
 tante. I thought you would be glad to hear this from 
 A. Not a word of or from C. 
 
 October 1th, 1814, 
 
 My dear L'^^ M®, — Hanson is come at last, and is 
 ready to meet Sir R[alph]'s soUcitor the moment we 
 know who he is ; £60,000, that is, £3,000 a year, is 
 the proposed settlement on our part ; if not enough 
 we can make it more, N[ewstea]d can be charged 
 with it for the present ; but subject to trustees, so 
 as still to sell it, and secure that sum to A[nnabella] 
 from the produce, 
 
 H[anson] still thinks N[ewstead] must bring about 
 £120,000, as it has been much improved ; and the rents
 
 278 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 raised beyond what / could have done, because I should 
 not have liked to turn out the old (though stupid) 
 tenants, and all this has been effected. You know 
 I can afford to sell it for £25,000 less than before, as 
 that is already received of C[laughto]n's forfeit. On 
 Rochdale we have not decided ; but it is certainly 
 valuable, though want of money has prevented me from 
 working it to advantage. Many, and most of my debts 
 are paid ; there are still, however, several to pay. 
 
 H. is decided for the resale of N[ewstead] because, 
 although the rents are nearly quadrupled, yet the 
 income is much short of what would arise from the 
 purchase money ; and the house requires too much 
 keeping up. 
 
 What is to be done about C. ? Ought I to write to 
 her ? I am sure no one can be more disposed to pay 
 her every proper attention. I hope that she is not the 
 paragraph- mover. If she hates me, she cannot hate 
 A[nnabella], and should consider her a little. I must 
 do C. justice in saying that I have neither heard from, 
 nor of her ; nor have we met. 
 
 If you think it right to say anything on the subject ; 
 in short, I know not what to do or say, my situation 
 is so difficult with her. To preserve a medium is what 
 would be desirable. I would willingly follow your 
 judgment, but it seems so hard upon you to make you 
 the arbitress between us. Whatever new attachments 
 she may have formed should at least induce her to 
 consider the old as entirely cancelled. // there be any 
 complaints, methinks I might complain too ; but with 
 these things I have nothing to do, though I suspect she 
 means to charge all her wrong to my account. If she 
 would but have a little sense, and consideration, how 
 much it would conduce to all our comfort ; to her own, 
 for there never were persons for whom I felt more 
 kindness than you and all yours, and it will be very 
 hard on me to be proscribed from that intimacy which 
 this connection with your niece will sanction and 
 improve. 
 
 Ever y"^^ most affectionately, B.
 
 1814] THE TWO AS 279 
 
 Augusta tells me that G.^ says they are " betting away 
 at Newmarket, whether I am to be married or not." 
 She has had a very kind answer from A[nnabella]. 
 
 Is not this amusing, or rather provoking ? A fuss 
 whether one wishes it or not. 
 
 October 9th, 1814. 
 
 My dear L^ M^, — I will answer C. to-morrow ; 
 pray tell her so, and say everything proper for me. 
 
 Your approbation of my intentions gives me great 
 pleasure. Hanson said £50,000 or £2,500 a year ; but 
 agreed with me that it was best to do things hand- 
 somely, and to err on the right side, if at all; and 
 acquiesced in making it £3,000 instead. I must run 
 the risk of Sir R[alph]'s " possibihty," nevertheless 
 devoutly praying for 1/ M[ilbanke]'s long lif e ; or a 
 young and pretty stepmother-in-law in case she should 
 leave us. 
 
 Enclosed are two letters, one from A. and the 
 other from A X. I wish to convince you of the dis- 
 position of the one x , and to ask your opinion about 
 going ; but why, I know it already, and will go to 
 S[eaham] the moment I can. I shall be dehghted to 
 see L[ord] M[elbourn]e. I do hope C. will continue 
 in this mood ; it becomes her ; and it is so provoking 
 to see her throwing away her own happiness by hand- 
 fuls, when everyone is disposed to forgive, and treat 
 her kindly if she would but suffer them. 
 
 Ever y"^ most affects, B. 
 
 October Uth, 1814. 
 
 My dear L^ M[ELBOUR]sr]E, — Your Lord has this 
 moment left me — very kind — and I take it kindly. 
 He looked a httle suspicious at a miniature near the 
 chimney. It was one of 1/ 0[xford], and not of 
 C[aroline] as he probably suspected; but I did not 
 know how to make him perceive this, as he seems short- 
 sighted ; and yet I feel uneasy at the idea that he should 
 
 ^ CJol, George Leigh, Augusta's husband.
 
 280 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 imagine for a moment that C.^s was amongst them, 
 which, upon my honour, it is not. If you can fall 
 upon any way to assure him of this, I wish you would. 
 Perhaps it may be only my fancy, as I judge a good deal 
 from looks, but I take his visit as such a comphment, 
 that I would not have him think I paid him so bad a 
 one in return. 
 
 I enclose you an answer to C. ; it is short, and I hope 
 the proper medium. I was glad to hear from L^ M, that 
 Lady C[owpe]r is so much better. 
 
 Ever y" most afEec"^, B. 
 
 October 12th, 1814. 
 
 Dear Lady M®, — Were I in the fortunate situation 
 of L*^ C, I don't know whether I should return so 
 " Post-hastily," but I am pretty sure I should not have 
 set out without my Penelope. As to being " married 
 9 years," that to be sure rather enhances the merits 
 of his L'^ship's conjugal expedition, but don't equal 
 mine, for I would travel twice the distance to see the 
 same person without being married at all. Well, but 
 I am going, am I not ? What would mine aunt have ? 
 You forget that I shall not be a whit nearer marriage 
 when I get there ; and really, without being more 
 impatient than other people, you must allow that it 
 is rather a trying situation to be placed — near and 
 with one's intended — and still to be limited to intentions 
 only. 
 
 I have bored j'ou with so many letters lately that 
 you will not be sorry to hear that I am interrupted, 
 and must conclude this. Ever y"^, B. 
 
 Monday, October 11 th, 1814. 
 
 Dear Lady M^, — I have spared you for the last 
 three or four days ; but though I perceive by y® 
 papers, and heard from L*^ M[elbourne] that you 
 are at present monopolised by Royalty, I can't help 
 writing to you a few lines, to which I require no answer. 
 
 My agent was to have set off this day to meet Mr. 
 Hoar (of whom you gave me some hints) at Durham,
 
 1814] LAWYERS DELAYS 281 
 
 but he will be detained in the country, or in town, 
 perhaps, for this week, and will then proceed to discuss 
 with Sir R.'s people upon the spot. 
 
 I shall not set off till a day or two after Hanson ; and 
 then I must take Newstead in my way, but shall not 
 remain there above forty-eight hours. 
 
 There have been several intimations to me from all 
 quarters to proceed ; which I am very willing to do, 
 but as lawyers are as essential in this business as 
 clergymen and post-horses, I must wait for the former 
 before I harness either of the latter. May I trust that 
 my answer to C. was satisfactory, and ask, like King 
 Claudius of Hamlet, how " was the argument : was 
 there no offence in't ? " 
 
 I am now quite alone with my books, and my maccaw. 
 Douglas Kinnaird, with whom I have mostly been, is 
 gone to Brighton, and I miss him a good deal. On 
 Friday, Lord H., Douglas, Kean [the Kean), and myself, 
 dined together. 
 
 Kean is a most wonderful compound, and excels in 
 humour and mimicry. The last talent is rather 
 dangerous ; but one cannot help being amused by it. 
 In other respects, in private society, he appears diffi- 
 dent, and of good address ; on the stage, he is aU perfect 
 in my eyes. 
 
 I am horribly low-spirited, a malady which don't 
 often assail me ; and, for fear it should be infectious, I 
 may as well finish this epistle, which I don't well know 
 why I began. 
 
 Ever y" most truly, B. 
 
 P.S. Tuesday. — ^I open my letter to teU you that 
 y® " Scotch Politician " (of whose scheme, I believe, 
 I subsequently told you) has succeeded. Howard has 
 taken the elder and x's friend ^ ; it is not yet declared, 
 because his sire is not yet apprized of the future 
 Duchess, but settled in all other respects. I suppose 
 
 ^ Howard, Earl of Surrey, afterwards Duke of Norfolk. The 
 elder was Charlotte Sophia Leveson-Gower. Her younger sister 
 married the Marquess of Westminster in 1819.
 
 282 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 I am telling you what you have not yet heard ; at 
 least, it is told me as a thing not known. Keep it so. 
 Does not all this amuse you ? at least, my having told 
 you how it was to be, before-hand : I think I only 
 want coolness to have made a tolerable Jesuit in the 
 various plots and counterplots of which I am aware. 
 
 Byron to Hohhouse 
 
 October 11 th, 1814. 
 
 My deae Hobhouse, — If I have not answered your 
 very kind letter immediately, do not impute it to neg- 
 lect. I have expected you would be in town or near 
 it, and waited to thank you in person. 
 
 Believe me, no change of time or circumstance short 
 of insanity, can make any difference in my feelings, 
 and I hope, in my conduct towards you. I have known 
 you too long, and tried you too deeply ; a new mistress 
 is nothing to an old friend, the latter can't be replaced 
 in this world, nor, I very much fear, in the next, and 
 neither in this nor the other could I meet with one so 
 deserving of my respect and regard. 
 
 Well, H. — I am engaged, and we wait only for settle- 
 ments "and all that " to be married. My intended, it 
 seems, has liked me very well for a long time, which, I 
 am sure, her encouragement gave me no reason to 
 suspect ; but so it is, according to her account. 
 
 The circumstances which led to the renewal of my 
 proposal I will acquamt you with when we meet, if 
 you think such material concerns worth your enquiry. 
 
 Hanson is going down next week to Durham, to 
 confabulate with Sir R.'s agents on the score of tem- 
 poralities, and I suppose I must soon follow to my sire- 
 in-law's that is to be. 
 
 I confess that the character of wooer in this regular 
 way does not sit easy upon me. 1 wish I could wake 
 some morning, and find myself fairly married. 
 
 I do hate (out of Turkey) all fuss, and bustle, and 
 ceremony so much ; and one can't be married, accord- 
 ing to what I hear, without some. 
 
 I wish, whenever this same form is muttered over
 
 1814] MISS MILBANKE 283 
 
 us, that you could make it convenient to be present. 
 I will give you due notice : — if you would but take a 
 wife and be coupled then also, like people electrified 
 in company through the same chain, it would be still 
 further comfort. 
 
 Good even. Ever yours most truly, B, 
 
 Byron to Lady Melbourne 
 
 October I9th, 1814. 
 
 My deae Lady M[elbourn]e, — ^I wrote to you with 
 the same tidings yesterday. She ^ hardly knew him, 
 but seemed quite terrified at the idea of her dilemma ; 
 if it was proposed to her as had been intimated ; and 
 from that X released her at once. I hope X has burnt 
 her letters, which she particularly desired. She 
 behaved extremely weU ; for, malgre " the Politician," 
 she wrote secretly (when the rest were all at the L^ 
 races),alongexplanatory epistle to X foretelling what 
 has occurred. I think Jiim m great luck. Annabella 
 is in aU respects all I could wish ; and more than I 
 deserve ; my only regret is her having taken so long 
 a period to decide upon a very simple proposition ; 
 when, had she but said the same thing two years, even 
 a year ago, what confusions and embarrassments, 
 good and bad, might have been prevented. There are 
 three or four which you know — and one or two you 
 do not. Now if she had given me even a distinct, 
 though distant hope, I would have acted with a view 
 to it. As it was, in my pursuit of strong emotions 
 and mental drams, I found them, to be sure ; and 
 intoxicated myself accordingly, but now I am sobered 
 my head aches, and my heart too. Next week I hope 
 and intend to be at Seaham. Hanson shoidd have been 
 at Durham now, but will set off in a few days, and I shall 
 follow him with aU speed. 
 
 I hear from Ann[abeU]a very often ; and the more 
 I see of her, the more I find reason to congratulate 
 
 1 Lady Charlotte Leveson-Gower hardly knew Lord Surrey at the 
 time when he proposed marriage.
 
 284 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 myself and to thank you ; for, after all, it could never 
 have taken place but through your breakmg the ice. 
 
 Ever y-^ most aff^, B. 
 
 October 20th, 1814, 
 
 My DEAR Lady M^, — Hanson is the Government 
 Solicitor of the Stamp Office, and was put in by 
 L** GrenvUle. I have known him since I was a 
 child ; as to his integrity, or ability, I cannot speak. 
 I suppose, as all men think " patrons capricious and 
 mistresses fickle, but everyone excepts his own mistress, 
 and his own patron," most people except their own 
 lawyer. Perhaps the sale of New [stead] and Claugh- 
 ton's forfeiture (£25,000) may be some proof of his 
 talent, for on all law points Hanson certainly beat him 
 as the result proved, and the said Claughton was also 
 a lawyer. 
 
 All I can say is, he expressed himself extremely 
 anxious and pleased about the match, but a little more 
 inquisitive than I have been about A.'s expectations. 
 I expect him in town daily. The journey to Durham 
 was his own proposal, and he wrote to Hoar, who did 
 not seem overpleased with Sir R.'s letter, calling him 
 " agent " instead of " Counsel," and God knows what 
 mummery and jargon in the way of technicals. I only 
 wait to forward Hanson, and shall embark first for 
 News[tead] for a day, and so on to Seaham. I can 
 assure you I find the not being married exceedingly 
 embarrassing, and wish I had been so these twelve 
 hours. 
 
 Of Lady Staff[ord] " I tell the tale as told to me," 
 and I believe I was one of the first who knew of the 
 scheme. They were not certain which of the girls he 
 would take, but he was to have his choice, by the 
 account of one of them. Now that he has fixed on her 
 I wish it may go on ; because she is the best little 
 creature on earth ; and anything but designing, or she 
 would never have betrayed this to X , which was quite 
 a work of supererogation. X has written to con- 
 gratulate her.
 
 1814] "A DELIGHTFUL FARCE" 285 
 
 Oh, it is a delightful farce altogether ; and one of the 
 scenes that reconcile one to existence, for if it were 
 not for the things of this kind, and apple-women 
 tumbling down in the street, there would be nothing 
 to laugh at. 
 
 " The opinions " about A. and B. If she takes the 
 least trouble, I am the most manageable animal that 
 was ever driven. And so her " eyes are like yours " ; 
 a little less mischievous, I hope ; though I believe you 
 see without them ; at least, you observe things that 
 escape all other optics. 
 
 I am infinitely obliged by the wish for my society to 
 replace the Prince Regent and L*^ M., but Lord Cow[pe]r 
 would be a much more lively proxy for both than I 
 could hope to be ; still I can't conceive a more pleasant 
 party, if my intrusion did not spoil it. 
 
 But alas ! I can only send my sighs by the heavy 
 coach, and this letter by the light one. 
 
 Ever y" most truly, B. 
 
 Lady Melbourne to Byron 
 
 Brocket Haix [Herts], October 28th, 1814. 
 
 Deab Lord B., — I find that we shall certainly be in 
 Town on Monday. If you should not have left it pray 
 let me see you on Tuesday morning, at any time most 
 agreeable to yourself — but if it should so happen that 
 you are setting out on Tuesday, you might call upon 
 me Monday evening. Les entrees sent lihres pour un 
 Neveu a toute heure — as, much as I have been wishing 
 you to go, I cannot help acknowledging that I am selfish 
 enough to feel that I shall rejoice to find you in London. 
 
 Yours ever, E. M. 
 
 Byron to Lady Melbourne 
 
 Newark, October Z\st, 1814. 
 
 My dear Lady JVP, — Your letter was delivered 
 just as I was leaving town, or I do believe a day 
 sooner would have stopped me ; since I had much 
 rather not set out on my present expedition at this
 
 286 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 moment. However, I am thus far on my way to 
 S[eaham]. On Saturday I got to x's/ and stayed till 
 late on Sunday, and here I am. 
 
 Last night I slept at the inn (Wansford) where it 
 seems Sir Hal and the Countess Rosebery dined, in 
 very good spirits and quite at their ease. They slept 
 at Eaton afterwards in the most decisive way, so that 
 all appears quite regular. 
 
 Don't you think they are not much better than some 
 people you may have heard of, who had half a mind to 
 anticipate their example, and don't yet know whether 
 to be glad or sorry they have not ? 
 
 I don't think he ^ much admires my marriage. He 
 knows that I have made X my heiress, and, though it 
 is not a stupendous inheritance, yet, as he supposes 
 the life a bad one, &c,, &c., I can see that he don't like 
 my chance or my wife's being in his way. I remember 
 when we met in town he advised me not to be in a hurry ; 
 and I know but one motive why he should say this, 
 except a good one, and for that I never credit anybody, 
 having no more trust in me than a turnpike gate, 
 though my motto exacts it from everyone else. 
 
 Well, I am proceeding very slowly to S[eaham]. The 
 last news I heard was that L*^ W[entworth] was leaving 
 it. He had gone to D[urham] to direct Mr. Hoar most 
 particularly to be as quick in the settling as possible, as 
 his (L*^ W.'s) " whole heart was set upon the match." 
 All this is very fine, but it was very foolish dragging 
 me out of town before my lawyer had arrived. L*^ W. 
 will be gone before I arrive, which I don't regret, but 
 how the rest of us are to proceed, I know not. I shaU 
 not stay above a week, if I can help it ; don't write till 
 you hear from me there, for I am not sm'e I shall go now, 
 as Newstead is so near, and I have something to do 
 there. Poor Mrs. Chaworth is mad in town ; it came 
 upon her at Hastings in the house where she succeeded 
 A[ugusta] and me as tenant. Chaworth went to her ; 
 but has since gone to Yorkshire to hunt. She is still 
 
 ^ The Leighs at Newmarket. 
 2 Ck)lonel Leigh.
 
 1814] FIRST VISIT TO SEAHAM 287 
 
 ill, and I fear dangerously, as to sense, if not even 
 life. I am in very ill humour, and 
 
 Yours affectionately, B. 
 
 Seaham, November Uh, 1814. 
 
 My dear Lady M^, — ^I have been here these two 
 days ; but waited to observe before I imparted to 
 you — " my confidential counsel," as Master Hoar 
 would say — my remarks. 
 
 Your brother pleases me much. To be sure his 
 stories are long ; but I beheve he has told most of them, 
 and he is to my mind the perfect gentleman ; but I 
 don't like Lady M[ilbanke] at all. I can't tell why, 
 for we don't differ, but so it is ; she seems to be every- 
 thing here, which is all very weU ; and I am, and mean 
 to be, very conformable, and dutiful, but nevertheless 
 I wish she and mine aunt could change places, as far as 
 regards me and mine. A[nnabella]'s meeting and mine 
 made a kind of scene ; though there was no acting, nor 
 even speaking, but the pantomime was very expressive. 
 She seems to have more feehng than we imagined ; 
 but is the most silent woman I ever encountered ; 
 which perplexes me extremely. I like them to talk, 
 because then they think less. Much cogitation wiU not 
 be in my favour ; besides, I can form my judgments 
 better, since, unless the countenance is flexible, it is 
 difficult to steer by mere looks, I am studying her, but 
 can't boast of my progress in getting at her disposition ; 
 and if the conversation is to be all on one side I fear 
 committing myself ; and those who only hsten, must 
 have their thoughts so much about them as to seize 
 any weak point at once. However, the die is cast ; 
 neither party can recede ; the lawyers are here — mine 
 and all — and I presume, the parchment once scribbled, 
 I shaU become Lord Annabella. 
 
 I can't yet teU whether we are to be happy or not. 
 I have every disposition to do her all possible justice, 
 but I fear she won't govern me ; and if she don't it will 
 not do at all ; but perhaps she may mend of that 
 fault. I have always thought — first, that she did not
 
 288 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 like me at all ; and next, that her supposed after-liking 
 was imagination. This last I conceive that my presence 
 would — ^perhaps has removed — if so, I shall soon discover 
 it, but mean to take it with great philosophy, and to 
 behave attentively and well, though I never could love 
 but that which loves ; and this I must say for myself, 
 that my attachment always increases in due proportion 
 to the return it meets with, and never changes in the 
 presence of its object ; to be sure, like Mrs. Damer, I 
 have " an opinion of absence." 
 
 Pray write. I think you need not fear that the 
 answer to this will run any of the risks you apprehend. 
 It will be a great comfort to me, in all events, to call 
 you aunt, and to know that you are sure of my being 
 
 Ever y^^ B. 
 
 November 6th, 1814. 
 
 My deak Lady M?, — ^Annabella and I go on ex- 
 tremely well. We have been much together, and if 
 such details were not insipid to a third person, it would 
 not be difficult to prove that we appear much attached, 
 and I hope permanently so. She is, as you know, a per- 
 fectly good person; but I think, not only her feelings and 
 affections, but her passions stronger than we supposed. 
 Of these last I can't as yet positively judge; my observa- 
 tions lead me to guess as much, however. She herself 
 cannot be aware of this, nor could I, except from a habit 
 of attending minutely in such cases to their slightest in- 
 dications, and, of course, I don't let her participate in 
 the discovery, in which, after all, I may be mistaken. 
 
 Our lawyers are in a fair train of concluding their 
 parchment passports to matrimony ; and I am happy to 
 say in the most amicable way, without disputes, demurs, 
 or more delays. When quite done, which may be in a 
 fortnight, we are to marry quietly, and to set off by 
 ourselves to Halnaby for the moon ; and afterwards 
 probably to a house (Farleigh) ^ which I have taken in 
 
 1 Farleigh Wallop, an old seat of the Earls of Portsmouth about 
 4| miles from Basingstoke. The house was burned down in 1661 
 and rebuilt by the first Earl.
 
 1814] AT SEAHAM 289 
 
 Hampshire, a large, and comfortably retired mansion, 
 which I know by having been there some years ago, 
 and I think it will suit us very well. Lady M[ilbanke] 
 will probably have informed you of the settlements, 
 &c. I am making all the proposed arrangements 
 about N[ewstead] and R[ochdale], and her present 
 fortune is to be I think £20,000, which is all that is 
 certain. I would not, as you may suppose, embarrass 
 the old ones by boring them to bind themselves down 
 about futurity. They say that L** W[entworth] has 
 declared her, by will, his heiress ; indeed he himself 
 went over to Durham, and told Hoar so, in positive 
 terms. But he best knows whether he will adhere to 
 such intention. / wish to trust as httle as possible to 
 expectations, though even hers seem very sanguine. 
 If reahsed it will all be very well, and if not, should she 
 herself continue what I firmly beheve her, I could bear ; 
 indeed I could hardly regret any posthumous dis- 
 appointments, unless I thought that she suffered from 
 her connection with me. I am not, however, romantic, 
 nor indifferent to these, which are good things in them- 
 selves ; but simply do not wish to set our hopes too 
 high, since their completion will not be the less pleasant 
 because they were temperate, while their moderation, 
 in case of the contrary, would save us any violent 
 vexation. 
 
 I think we all improve, and suit very well. I en- 
 deavour to conform to their habits, which is not difficult; 
 and I would hope that I am not a troublesome inmate. 
 They are very kind, and A. and I of course still kinder. 
 I hope she will be happy. I am sure she can make, and 
 keep me so if she hkes. I wrote to you a day or two ago, 
 and hope to sign myself soon, not more affectionately, 
 but more entirely. 
 
 Yours, B. 
 
 November \Zth, 1814. 
 
 My dear Lady M*', — I dehvered your letters, but 
 
 have only mentioned y" receipt of your last to myself. 
 
 Do you know I have grave doubts if this will be a
 
 290 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 marriage now ? Her disposition is the very reverse of 
 our imaginings. She is overrun with fine feehngs, 
 scruples about herself and her disposition (I suppose, in 
 fact, she means mine), and to crown all, is taken ill once 
 every three days with I know not what. But the day 
 before, and the day after, she seems well ; looks and 
 eats well, and is cheerful and confiding, and in short 
 like any other person in good health and spirits. A 
 few days ago she made one scene, not altogether out of 
 C.'s style ; it was too long and 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 shght occasions. I don't know, but 
 I think it by no means improbable, you will see 
 me in town soon. I can only interpret these things 
 one way, and merely wait to be certain, to make my 
 obeisance and " exit singly." I hear of nothing but 
 " feehng " from morning tiU night, except from Sir 
 Ralph, with whom I go on to admiration. 1/ M[il- 
 banke] too, is pretty weU ; but I am never sure of 
 A. for a moment. The least word, and you know I 
 rattle on through thick and 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, 
 and then again too unHke. This comes of system, 
 and 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), and find it succeeds very well, and 
 makes her very quiet ; which gives me some hopes 
 of the efficacy of the " calming process," so re- 
 nowned in " our philosophy," In fact, and entre nous, 
 it is really amusing ; she is hke a child in that respect, 
 and quite caressable into kindness, and good humour ; 
 though I don't think her temper had at any time, 
 but very selj tormenting and anxious, and romantic. 
 In short, it is impossible to foresee how this will end
 
 1814] MARRIAGE 291 
 
 now, any more than two years ago ; if there is a 
 break, it shall be her doing not mine. 
 
 Ever y" most truly, B. 
 
 From 13 Nov. to 3 Jan. 1815 there is little or no 
 evidence of Byron's movements. The only known 
 letters are on 14 Dec. to Moore and 31 Dec. to Murray 
 (see Letters, etc., iii. 163, 164). Byron was probably at 
 that time in London. Hobhouse, in his Recollections 
 of a Long Life (i. 167), under date 20 Nov., says he 
 called on Byron, who was coming to his rooms at the 
 Albany on that day. On 23 Nov. Byron was at 
 Cambridge, voting for Mr. Clarke for the Professorship 
 of Anatomy, and on that occasion he was cheered 
 by the students in the Gallery. On 24 Nov. he and 
 Hobhouse went to London, and on 2 Dec. he dined 
 with Kinnaird. On 24 Dec. Byron and Hobhouse 
 started for Seaham, stopping at Six Mile Bottom 
 on the way till 26 Dec. After passing through 
 Wansford and Newark, they reached Sir Ralph Noel's 
 place, Seaham, at 8 p.m. on 30 Dec. Hobhouse thus 
 describes Miss Milbanke: " Rather dowdy-looking, 
 and wears a long and high dress, though she has 
 excellent feet and ankles. The lower part of her face is 
 bad, the upper expressive, but not handsome ; yet she 
 gains by inspection " {Recollections of a Long Life, 
 i. 192). 
 
 On the 2 Jan. following Byron was married to 
 Annabella Milbanke, Sir Ralph's only child. The 
 ceremony took place in the drawing-room of the 
 Mansion House, the service being conducted by the 
 Rev. Thomas Noel, rector of Kirkby Mallory. Hob- 
 house, in his Recollections of a Long Life (i. 196), 
 says that after the ceremony " Byron was calm and as 
 usual. I felt as if I had buried a friend. At a httle 
 1—20
 
 292 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 before twelve I handed Lady Byron down stairs and 
 into her carriage. When I wished her many years of 
 happiness she said, ' If I am not happy it will be my 
 own fault.' " 
 
 The honeymoon was passed at Halnaby House, near 
 Darlington, in the same county, [R.E.] 
 
 Byron to Lady Melbourne 
 
 Halnaby, January Srd, 1815. 
 
 My deabest Aunt, — ^We were married yesterday at 
 ten upon y^ clock, so there's an end of that matter, 
 and the beginning of many others. BeU has gone 
 through all the ceremonies with great fortitude, and I 
 am much as usual, and your dutiful nephew. All those 
 who are disposed to make presents may as well send 
 them forthwith, and pray let them be handsome, 
 and we wait your congrats besides, as I am sure 
 your benediction is very essential to all our under- 
 takings. 
 
 Lady M[ilbanke] was a httle hysterical, and fine- 
 feeling ; and the kneehng was rather tedious, and the 
 cushions hard ; but upon the whole it did vastly well. 
 The drawing-room at Seaham was the scene of our 
 conjunction, and then we set off, according to approved 
 custom, to be shut up by ourselves. 
 
 You would think we had been married these fifty 
 years. Bell is fast asleep on a corner of the sopha, 
 and I am keeping myself awake with this epistle — she 
 desires her love, and mine you have had ever since we 
 were acquainted. 
 
 Pray, how many of our new relations (at least, of 
 mine) mean to own us ? I reckon upon George and 
 you, and Lord M[elbourne] and the Countess and Count 
 of the Holy Roman Empire ^ ; as for Caro and Caro 
 George, and William, I don't know what to think, do 
 you ? 
 
 I shall write to you again anon ; at present, receive 
 this as an apology for that silence of which you were 
 
 1 Lord and Lady Cowper.
 
 1815] EARLY /MARRIED DAYS 293 
 
 kind enough to complain ; and believe me ever most 
 affectionately thine, 
 
 Byron. 
 
 P.S, I enclose you an order for the box ; it was not 
 at liberty before. The week after next will be mine, 
 and so on alternately. I have lent it, for the present 
 week only, to another person ; the next is yours. 
 
 January 7th, 1815. 
 
 Dearest Atjnt, — Bell sent you a few lines yesterday 
 as an accompaniment to an answer of mine to an epistle 
 of Caro's about her present, which of course she will 
 be very glad to receive. I wonder C. should think it 
 necessary to make such a preface ; we are very well 
 disposed towards her, and can't see why there should 
 not be a peace with her as well as with America.^ 
 
 About this, and everything else, I will do as you like. 
 If you prefer that we should quarrel with that branch 
 of the cousinhood, I shall have no objection ; but I 
 suppose George ^ and Lord Cowper, and I and our female 
 appendages, are not to be involved in the hke bickering 
 any more now than heretofore. 
 
 Bell and I go on extremely well so far, without any 
 other company than our own selves as yet. 
 
 I got a wife and a cold on the same day, but have got 
 rid of the last pretty speedily. I don't dislike this 
 place, it is just the spot for a moon ; there is my only 
 want, a library, and thus I can always amuse myself, 
 even if alone. I have great hopes this match will turn 
 out well. I have found nothing as yet that I could 
 wish changed for the better ; but time does wonders, so 
 I won't be too hasty in my happiness. 
 
 I will tell you all about the ceremony when we meet. 
 It went off very pLasantly, all but the cushions, which 
 
 ^ A Treaty of Peace between the United States and England was 
 signed at Ghent on 24 Dec. 1814, but it was not ratified until 
 17 Feb. 1815. 
 
 3 George Lamb.
 
 294 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 were stuffed with peach-stones I beHeve, and made me 
 make a face which passed for piety. 
 
 My love to all my relatives ; by the way, what do 
 
 they mean to give me ? I will compromise, provided 
 
 they let me choose what I will have instead of their 
 
 presents, nothing but what they could very well spare. 
 
 Ever Aunt, thine dutifully, B. 
 
 P.S. Lady Byron sends her love, but has not seen 
 this epistle ; recollect, we are to keep our secrets and 
 correspondence as heretofore, mind that. 
 
 Byron to Hobhouse 
 
 [Halnaby], January llth, 1815. 
 
 My deab H., — You will oblige me much by insisting 
 on an interview with Signor Hanson, to whom I have 
 again written with some anger, and much wonderment 
 at his not seeing you, or writing to me. 
 
 I will do what you like about it, only choose me a 
 counsel. William Adam an' thou wilt. 
 
 The post presses, but more soon. 
 
 Lady Byron is well and with me. 
 
 Very much yours, Byron. 
 
 Lady Melbourne has the box, but I will write to her 
 to transfer to you for any night or nights. 
 
 [Halnaby] January I9th, 1815. 
 
 My deab Hobhouse, — ^I rejoice in the escape of your 
 premises ; you did not set them on fire, did you ? 
 
 You have made but one mistake in your epistle to 
 Spooney [Hanson], but that's a thumper. I do mean 
 to sell Newstead, and that the moment it can be sold, 
 but that does not prevent my being anxious about 
 Rochdale — viz. to sell it too — Newstead I won't 
 keep, if a fair price can be had for it. 
 
 I sent you a box order — hast thou it ? I wish to 
 hear from Hanson, before I fix upon a counsel, and then 
 you shall hear. Pray when thou writest next, address 
 to Seaham, where we go on Saturday. 
 
 Excuse this scrubby letter, all the ink's out. 
 
 Ever thine most truly, B.
 
 1815] LETTER TO LADY MELBOURNE 295 
 
 Seaham, January 22nd, 1815. 
 
 Mine Aunt, — This day completes my 27th year of 
 existence, and (save a day) my " three weeks after 
 marriage." I am four years and three months older 
 than Bell, who will be twenty-three on May 27th. 
 I suppose this is a fair disproportion. 
 
 Yesterday I came here somewhat anent my imperial 
 will. But never mind, you know I am a very good- 
 natured fellow, and the more easily governed because 
 I am not ashamed of being so ; and so Bell has her 
 own way and no doubt means to keep it ; for which 
 reason I prodigiously applaud your having written 
 two letters to her, and only three to me, and one of 
 them full of Lady Blarney (by way of emetic), &c., 
 &c., which I presume you meant me to show. By the 
 way, I cannot sufficiently admire your cautious style 
 since I became chickenpecked, but I love thee, ma 
 tante, and therefore forgive your doubts {implied, but 
 not expressed), which will last till the next scrape I 
 get into ; and then we shall wax confidential again, 
 and I shall have good advice. I look upon you as my 
 good genius. I am scribbling in my dressing-room, 
 and BeU is in bed, so you ought to think the length of 
 this epistle a huge effort of complaisance. 
 
 I sent C. an answer, which produced no rejoinder ; 
 thus aU is right, at least I hope so. We are aU well, 
 and Sir R. is going on Tuesday to a county meeting, 
 to oppose continuance of taxes. I shall stay at home 
 quietly with Mrs. Quotem. 
 
 Love and health to all my new cousins, and particu- 
 larly to Uncle M. Ever yours most truly, B. 
 
 Byron to Hohhouse 
 
 January 2Qth, 1815. 
 
 My dear Hobhouse, — Your packet hath been 
 perused, and firstly I am lost in wonder and obligation 
 at your good nature in taking so much trouble with 
 Spooney and my damnable concerns. 
 
 Newstead must be sold without delay, and even at
 
 296 MARRIAGE [oh. v 
 
 a loss ; out of debt must be my first object, and the 
 sooner the better. 
 
 As for expectations, don't talk to me of " expects " 
 (as Mr. Lofty says to Croaker of " inspects," ^ the 
 Baronet is eternal, the Viscount immortal, and my 
 lady (senior) without end. They grow more healthy 
 every day, and I verily believe Sir Ralph and Lady 
 Milbanke, and Lord Wentworth 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 wiU 
 live to have them all drawn again. 
 
 Ever, dear Hobhouse, thine, B. 
 
 Lady Melbourne to Byron 
 
 January Slst [Tuesday], 1815. 
 
 My dear Lord B., — Ihavebeenlongingtowritetoyou 
 these 3 or 4 days, but have been incapable — a complaint 
 which I used to be subject to, laid me upon my couch 
 in a state of stupefaction. I have not had it for these 
 last eight years, and had hoped it was one of y® advant- 
 ages of age to be free from irritation of nerves. You 
 are all this time sajring, " What is this ? " Patience, 
 and I'll tell as shortly as I can. It is a sort of nervous 
 headache which affects your sight, and sometimes you 
 see half a face, and sometimes two faces. I see you 
 laugh ! and I know it is both laughable and lamentable ! 
 the first to whoever hears the description, the last, to 
 those who feel it. For when it goes off it terminates 
 in a violent headache, and leaves you quite unhinged 
 and unfit for y® slightest exertion. But it is gone now, 
 and I have said enough about it, in aU conscience. 
 
 What a suspicious person for are ! On some points 
 you guess right, on others wrong. You say I write 
 cautiously, and you mention having been married 
 3 weeks ! If that is not y® time to be cautious, I don't 
 know what is. You were wrong about y® letter in 
 
 1 The Good-natured Man, by Oliver Goldsmith.
 
 1815] LORD ERSKINE 297 
 
 which I mentioned Lady Blar — . I had nothing parti- 
 cular to say, and wrote about her, as the news of y® 
 day ; but I certainly did not write it to be seen. I 
 never wish people to get into bad habits ; I know, once 
 begun, they are not easily broken. I must thank you 
 for saying you forgive (what you are pleased to call) 
 my doubts, and for not allowing my sincerity to prevent 
 y"^ still having confidence in me. I willingly accept the 
 ofiice in which you have installed me, and hope always 
 to be your corbeau blanc (you remember Voltaire's 
 tale). I wish you may hit as justly upon the Corbeau 
 Noir, and avoid him. 
 
 And so. Lord Stafford ^ is gone over to IVIinisters for 
 a Dukedom, and Erskine for a Green Ribbon ! When 
 a fool shows such a want of steadiness and principle 
 I only laugh at him. But when a clever man like 
 Erskine contradicts all his professions of so many years' 
 standing, for the sake of a few dinners and a " painted 
 string," I own that it puts me out of temper, and out 
 of patience ; and inclines me to indulge a bad opinion 
 of aU men. He is named the " Green Man," which was 
 told to Sir S. Romilly, who said : " And now, in the 
 House of Lords he'U be y^ Gree7i Man and stilV^ ^ I 
 hope you have not heard this before. 
 
 1 have had a copy of Moore's lines sent me to-day, 
 with which I am delighted ("Complaint of a Mistress 
 to her Lover ") ; they have acquired great celebrity by 
 its being known that you tvept while th^y were being 
 sung to you. Do you acknowledge the truth of this ? 
 Moore has had the greatest success at Chatsworth. AU 
 the ladies quite enthusiastic about his agreeableness. 
 Emily writes me word : " We have lost some of our 
 
 ^ George Granville, Marquess of Stafford, whose daughter Byron 
 was supposed to be about to marry, was not created Duke of Suther- 
 land till 1833. 
 
 2 Thomas Erskine, Lord Erskine, was the youngest son of tenth 
 Earl of Buchan, created a Baron in 1806. He was called to the 
 Bar in 1783, and was appointed Attorney- General to the Prince of 
 Wales. In 1806 he became Lord Chancellor. On the death of Lord 
 Lothian in 1815 he was invested with the order of the Thistle.
 
 298 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 company, but still are gay. Alas ! Moore left us 
 yesterday." 
 
 Your former favourite, Lady Susan Ryder, has been 
 there displaying all her graces to the master of the 
 mansion, who does not seem inclined to grace her in 
 return.^ Seriously, they say the attack is quite d la 
 Worcester, but will not succeed. 
 
 A few days past I received a letter from a lady with 
 the following : " Wish me joy of Lord B.'s being really 
 married, as I am saved a wonderful number of questions. 
 Seriously, I am very glad of it for his sake, as matri- 
 mony appears to me y' best chance of steadying his 
 mind without weakening his genius." I thought this 
 opinion singular enough to be worth copying. I can 
 only say Amen — aiyisi soil il — and it seems to be 
 going on prosperously and wisely, whilst you proceed 
 on y* plan of allowing yourself to be directed by your 
 wife. That is the way to be a good and contented 
 husband. You know I agree with you when you say 
 you are a very good-natured person. Everybody will 
 find you so, if they abstain from plaguing you when you 
 are not in good spirits (we'll give it that name), and if 
 they do, they deserve to meet with rebuffs. 
 
 Write to me, mon cher Nevezi, et choisissez mieux 
 votre temps. I am inclined to think that gave some 
 ombrage, but keep faith with me, and say nothing. 
 
 Remember that although you have no Corbeau Noir, 
 actually noir, you may have one flying about, with 
 many black feathers in her plumage. 
 
 I am sorry to find people have a bad opinion of Lord 
 Portsmouth's case. Leach told George [Lamb] y° 
 other day, that he thought the Chancellor must grant 
 an injunction ; and Sir S. Romilly soon after said he 
 could see no reason why he should. I certainly had 
 rather depend upon the latter, than upon y® former. 
 But there is an idea that y® case is a very strong one 
 
 1 This refers to William, sixth Diike of Devonshire. Born 1790, 
 succeeded to the Dukedom 1811. Lady Susan Ryder, daughter of 
 the Earl of Harrowby, married in 1817 Lord Ebrington, who became 
 Lord Fortescue. She died in 1827.
 
 1815] MME DE STAEL 299 
 
 against him.* They tell me there is a very amusing 
 book just published : Memoir e.s sur la Guerre des 
 FranQais en Espagne, by M. Rocca. I am going to 
 buy it. Shall I send it you ? I believe it is the man 
 who was le bien aime de Mad® de Stael (poor man !), 
 and to whom, it is reported, she was married ; but I 
 do not believe that was true. Lady Ossulston writes 
 word from Paris : " It is quite over with Mad^ de Stael, 
 since her letter to Murat. Nobody can bear her ; she 
 thinks only of courting Ministers, but they will have 
 nothing to say to her. They are wiser than ours. 
 Did I ever tell you that most of them went to y® 
 Regent to desire him to go and pay her a visit ; and 
 gave, as a reason, that she had such a powerful pen, 
 that it was of great consequence to make her speak well 
 of this coimtry ! What a mean set they are ! You will 
 think there is no end to my pen. God bless you. 
 
 Most affectionately yours, E. M. 
 
 Byron to Lady Melbourne 
 
 Seaham, February 2nd, 1815. 
 
 My dear Aunt, — Sans letter paper, I have co-opted 
 awkwardly enough a sheet of foolscap whereupon to 
 answer your epistle. I cannot " laugh " at anything 
 which gave you pain, and therefore will say nothing 
 about your nervous headache, except that I am glad 
 that it is gone ; one may see a " double face " without 
 being delirious though ; but I must cease talking of your 
 complamt for fear of growing as sentimental as Bob 
 Adair, your larmoyant admirer. Had you seen Lord 
 Stair ? * If so the disorder, as far as the ache (the face 
 is too duU to be double) is accounted for. 
 
 ^ Lord Portsmouth married in 1814 the eldest daughter of BjTon's 
 Bolicitor, John Hanson. His brother, and next heir, took out a 
 commission of lunacy, hoping to prove that Lord Portsmouth, at the 
 time of his marriage, was insane. Byron was his " best man," 
 and, when subsequently asked his opinion, said that he did not 
 think Lord P. was more mad than others who enter upon matrimony. 
 For full particulars see Letters, ii. 393, 394. 
 
 a John Dalrymple, sixth Earl of Stair (1749-1821), served in the 
 first American War. Ambassador to Poland 1782, and to Berlin 
 1789 ; died, unmarried, in 1821.
 
 300 ]\IARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 It rejoices me to hear of Moore's success ; he is an 
 excellent companion as well as poet, though I cannot 
 recollect that I " wept " at the song you mention. 
 I ought to have done so ; but whether I did or not, it is 
 one of the most beautiful and touching compositions 
 that ever he penned, and much better than ever was 
 compounded by anyone else.^ 
 
 The moon is over ; but Bell and I are as lunatic as 
 heretofore ; she does as she likes, and don't bore me, 
 and we may win the Dunmow flitch of bacon for any- 
 thing I know. Mamma and Sir Ralph are also very 
 good, but I wish the last would not speak his speech 
 at the Durham meeting above once a week after its first 
 delivery. * 
 
 I won't betray you, if you will only write me some- 
 thing worth betraying. I suppose your " C — noir " is 
 X , but if X were a raven, or a griffin, I must still take 
 omens from her flight. 
 
 I can't help loving her, though I have quite enough 
 at home to prevent me from loving anyone essentially 
 for some time to come. 
 
 We have two visitors here, a Mrs. and Miss Some- 
 body ; the latter plain, and both humdrum, they have 
 made me so sleepy that I must say Good night. 
 
 Ever yours most nepotically, B. 
 
 February 5th, 1815. 
 
 My dear Aunt, — Pray is there any foundation for a 
 rumour which has reached me — that les agneaux ' 
 are about to separate ? If it is so, I hope that this 
 time it is only on account of incompatibility of 
 temper ; and that no more serious scenes have 
 occurred ; in short, I don't know what to wish, but 
 no harm to anybody, unless for the good of our 
 family, which she is always embroiling. Pray 
 tell me as much as your new code of confidence will 
 permit, or, what is still better, that this report (which 
 
 1 " When first I met thee." 
 
 2 See letter to Moore of same date, Letters and Journals, iii. 176. 
 
 3 William and Caroline.
 
 1815] A NARROW ESCAPE 301 
 
 came in a letter) is, as the person says it may be, a 
 " wicked scandal." 
 
 I answered you a few days ago. We have three or 
 fom* visitors here, whom I wish gone again, though 
 very good people in their way ; but also in. my way too. 
 I did not know of their approach tUl their arrival, but 
 I thought the cursed best liveries of the servants, and 
 some old, and UJ-fashioned gold dessert- knives, etc., 
 boded me no good, as omens of preparation ; and so it 
 has turned out. 
 
 Bell is very weU, and looking so, but I have got a cold 
 — it is going off however. 
 
 I have had a letter from Moore, very laudatory of 
 Lady Cowper in particular, and the C[hatsworth] party 
 in general. 
 
 Why did you caU Lady S[usan] R[yder] my former 
 " favourite ? " I never exchanged a word with her in 
 my life, after she came out, nor before, except at her 
 mother's, and then because people seemed to treat her as 
 a child, and not talk to her at aU. I wish either she, 
 or anyone else, would get hold of that foolish piece of 
 nobility ; the public have as much right to a Duchess of 
 Devonshire, as to the repeal of the property tax, and 
 ought to petition for both. 
 
 Ever yours most truly, B* 
 
 [Seahah] February Gth, 1815. 
 
 My deae, Lady M^, — ^I write to you upon mourning 
 paper, aU my gilt (spell it with an u if you hke) is gone ; 
 but it is really not malaprop, for last night was nearly 
 my last, as thus. 
 
 Thanks to my father-in-law and your worshipful 
 brother's collieries and coals, my dressing-room fire 
 was so diabohcally pregnant with charcoal, that I was 
 taken almost to lady-Uke fainting, and if BeU had not 
 in the nick of time postponed Old Nick for the present, 
 and sluiced me with Eau de Cologne, and sorts of waters 
 besides, you might now have been repairing your latest 
 suit of black to look hke new for your loving nephew. 
 All this is true, upon the word of a man hardly resusci-
 
 302 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 tated, and Bell herself has not been quite well since with 
 her exertions — this is in favour of matrimony, for had 
 I been single, the lack of aid would have left me 
 suffocated ; it was in bed that I was overwhelmed 
 (though the charcoal was in the next, my dressing- 
 room), and how her lungs withstood it, I can't tell; 
 but so it is, she is alive, and, thanks to her, so am I. 
 
 Our guests are gone, and I am very anxious to hear 
 from you — ^you owe me a letter if not two, for this makes 
 my third to your one. News are none, except ship- 
 wrecks, and county meetings ; the sea and the free- 
 holders have been combusthng about the east wind, 
 and the property tax, and vessels have been lost, and 
 speeches found in great plenty. 
 
 I am yawning hideously, because I can't hear your 
 answer, instead of reading it, and this part of the night, 
 the " sweet of it " (as Falstaff says) in London, is the 
 drowsiest here. So good night. 
 
 Ever thine, B, 
 
 Lady Melbourne to Byron 
 
 February 8th, 1815. 
 
 Deab Lord B., — It may, or it may not, be " wicked 
 scandal," but as far as I am informed — it is not true. 
 They are in y® country, to all appearance like two turtle 
 Doves. ^ There may now and then be a little sharpness 
 introduced — but who knows that some part of y® cooing 
 of these same Birds may not be scolding. ReaUy, she 
 seems inclined to behave better than she has done, and 
 is only troublesome in private, and a great bore in 
 Society. This I know you never could believe. But I 
 hope some day to see you undergo a Dinner, when she 
 wishes to show off. Is this confiding enough ? You 
 have no reason to complain of me either for y^ past, 
 or present — the future depends upon yourself. — I 
 yesterday, enclosed you a letter to Lady Byron. I 
 could not answer yomrs whUe I was in her debt ; but 
 I really do not reckon how many I write to y® one or to 
 
 1 Wm. Lamb and Lady Caroline.
 
 1815] LADY SUSAN RYDER 303 
 
 y** other, of which you accused me. When I write to 
 you it is as I talk to you, a cceur ouvert, when you 
 are sitting on y^ couch opposite to me — and we soon 
 laugh away an hour. I am laughing now at your 
 " essentially." ^ Was that word ever made use of 
 before in such a sense ? I was so much amused at it 
 that I looked for it in a little old dictionary that was 
 lying on the table, and I found, to my great astonish- 
 ment and yours too, I believe, the following : 
 " Essentially . . . Essentiellement . . . par nature . . . 
 par Essence." I had never heard of it before, but as 
 essentially worse or better — or, serving anyone 
 essentially, &c., &o. To me it was quite a new reading. 
 ... I did not mean that any favourite of yours was 
 synonymous to that term when you talk of the Grand 
 Signiors. But I have heard you say she was agreeable, 
 and you thought her a nice girl. I have no objection 
 to her, or any other person entrapping his Grace, 
 but, like a good politician, I had rather he would form 
 an alliance with some person hostile to y® present 
 System. 
 
 You wrong me about . On one subject they are as 
 
 black, and as hideous as any Phantasm of a distempered 
 brain can imagine. But, that essential out of the way, 
 I do not know anyone more fitted for your Corbeau 
 blanc, from cleverness, good-humour, and a thousand 
 agreeable qualities — not forgetting the interest they 
 take in you, and the knowledge they have of you, which 
 renders them more able to manage and advise. Does 
 this satisfy you ? Does the end make up for the begin- 
 ning ? You know you gave me liberie entiere ; and, 
 what is more, I make full use of the permission. I have 
 written in a great hurry, and must finish. You will 
 hear stories enough of all sorts — in gossiping letters 
 from gossiping correspondents. Who are the visitors ? 
 How they must dislike you ! Don't start ; that must 
 foUow, of course, if you are not prevenant for them ; 
 for you have y^ power of being much otherwise when 
 
 1 See letter of 2 Feb.
 
 304 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 you please. I may as well ask if this letter pleases you 
 better than my others ? 
 
 Yours affectionately, E. M. 
 
 P.S. — ^I am glad to hear so good an account of 
 Annabella. You seem altogether mighty comfortable, 
 which delights me. Do pray tell me if you stay on 
 some time, as I want to know — no mere curiosity — 
 but I want to send her a letter that will go direct to y® 
 place where she is. 
 
 WbxteuaTjL, February llth, 1815. 
 
 Dear Lord B,, — I hope you and Annabella soon 
 recovered from y® effects of your accident. It might 
 have been very serious, and I am not surprised she 
 was iU from the alarm she must have felt at your 
 situation ; and that in consequence of it you were not 
 quite recovered when she wrote. If the Coals have that 
 sulphurous tendency, pray open your Window when 
 you leave your dressing-room to go to bed. There are 
 many persons who are affected by it. Foreigners 
 particularly who are accustomed to Wood fires ; sea-coal 
 is much more impregnated with that sort of Vapour 
 than other coal. Therefore, pray do not neglect to take 
 measures to avoid any recurrence of so very unpleasant 
 an event — as much for y® sake of your friends as for 
 yourself — and for my sake especially. I am heartily 
 glad you were married, and hope you find reason to 
 rejoice at it more and more every day. This has been 
 a trial of Bell's presence of mind and adroitness, which 
 I am delighted to hear she possesses, and that the 
 result was so favourable. You have no right to com- 
 plain of me as a Correspondent. I always like writing 
 to you, and often when I have not, it has been from the 
 fear of your thuaking me a bore. That has not been y^ 
 reason why you sometimes have been so long silent 
 yourself. Perhaps y^ following Character of you, which 
 is now given upon the Continent, may account for it 
 better. In a letter to me, it is said : " There is a Lady 
 here, a great friend of y® Giaour'' s who says he is a mighty
 
 1815] LETTER TO HOBHOUSE 305 
 
 uncertain Gentleman in his temper." " Who is this," 
 you'll say ? I guess, and I'll tell you. I think it is a 
 Lady who might add : " When people standing upon 
 the stairs show a disposition to caress 'people standing 
 by them ; and that, from decorum, those people go 
 away — but soon return (in the hopes, probably, of a 
 renouvellement) but find the former disposition altered 
 essentially in thought, act, and deed ; have they not a 
 right to say that Gentleman is imcertain, not to be 
 depended upon, &c., &c., &c. 1 Should you not re- 
 collect to what I allude; or that numbers of similar 
 occurrences puzzle you — think of the staircase at 
 Mr. Pigou's, and I am very much mistaken if that is not 
 y® lady. ... I must now finish, though it is a much 
 shorter letter than I commonly write to you ; but 
 I have been pestered with Lady Visitors all the 
 morning who have prevented my writing. I think 
 London so much pleasanter when it is not full — that 
 every new face I see makes me cross, that is, those I do 
 not love, and for that reason I shall rejoice very much 
 when I see yours and Bell's. I hope you mean to try 
 me soon. 
 
 Ever affectionately yours, E. M. 
 
 Byron to Hobhouse 
 
 March 3rd, 1815. 
 
 My dear Hobhouse, — As I shall not perhaps set 
 off so soon as I expected, you may address your 
 responses here as usual. 
 
 What has happened between you and Lord J. T.' 
 I hear he has " lampooned you and your friends," 
 so says Kinnaird. I hope I am included in the 
 number ; but methinks that aged and venerable 
 nobleman is meddling with irascible men — men 
 famous with the pen, and tolerable in accuracy 
 with the pistol. How comes he into such a hornet's 
 nest ? Must one fight ? I am ready, either aa 
 
 ^ Probably Rear- Admiral Lord John Townshend, who succeeded 
 his cousin as 4th Marquess Townshend in 1855.
 
 306 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 principal or second against him and his whole 
 generation. 
 
 In my last I told you J[effre]y has accepted your 
 composition. I hope you are pleased with what he 
 says thereupon.^ 
 
 I have not heard from Hanson, but have written 
 to him in a style worthy of Salmasius. I have talked 
 " professional negligence and personal disrespect," I 
 have talked of "an end of all confidence," and still he 
 answers nothing. " May he be damned, like the Glutton 
 — ^a whoreson Achitophel." 
 
 I wish you would make an inquest of the house of 
 the Duchess of Devonshire — ^now to be let — and which, 
 if it suited, I should be glad to take for the year.* 
 
 I am very comfortable here, Hstening to that 
 monologue of my father-in-law, which he is pleased to 
 call conversation ; he has lately played once on the 
 fiddle, to my great refreshment. 
 
 We have had visitors, and they are gone ; I have 
 got K[innaird]'s receipt for the shell-fish, but no shell- 
 fish for the receipt. 
 
 I hear Kean is coming to Sunderland, but probably 
 not before my migration.' 
 
 Well, now I want for nothing but an heir to my estate, 
 and an estate for my heir. 
 
 Ever yours most truly, B. 
 
 Byron to Lady Melbourne 
 
 April 22nd, 1815. 
 
 Dear Aunt, — ^I have not seen the tragedy,* nor knew 
 that Murray had it. If I had, you should have received 
 it without delay. Was not you at the play on Thurs- 
 day ? I thought you were visible, but obscurelv, in 
 L-^ E.'s box. 
 
 1 Jefirey had accepted Hobhouse's Review of Leake's Researches 
 in Greece for the Edinburgh Review. 
 
 2 13, Piccadilly Terrace. 
 
 3 Edmund Kean (1787-1833). 
 
 * Probably Lady Dacre's Ina, which was produced at Drury Lane 
 on 22 April and " damned." See Letters and Journals, iii. 195.
 
 1816] LORD WENTWORTH'S WILL 307 
 
 Bell has got a sad cold, but I hope will be better 
 soon. 
 
 L** W.'s will is what was expected, but his property 
 more considerable. The executors tell me that estates 
 intailed on Lady M. and Bell, &c., are, or may be made, 
 nearly £8,000 a year ; and there is a good deal of 
 personalty besides, and money, and God knows what, 
 which will come in half to Lady Mil. now. 
 
 The Tamworths have the other half of the personals 
 only. These consist of partly Lady W[entworth]'s 
 fortune, and £20,000 in the 3 per cents. 
 
 There are separate estates left for sale ; firstly, to 
 pay all debts, and then to divide the residue between 
 the two natural children, 
 
 I hope we shall meet soon. 
 
 Bell is pronounced in a certain way, but I fear the 
 present state of her health will materially interfere with 
 that prospect for the present. 
 
 I will, however, hope better. 
 
 Y" very truly, B. 
 
 Lady Melbourne to Byron 
 
 February 5th, 1816. 
 
 Dear Lord B., — There is a report about you, so 
 much believed in Towti, that I think you should be 
 informed of it. They say you and Annabella are 
 parted, and even state y® authority upon which it is 
 founded. In general, when reports are as false as I 
 know this to be, I think the best way is to despise them, 
 and to take no measures to contradict them. But 
 really, this is so much talked about and believed, not- 
 withstanding my contradictions, that I think you 
 ought to desire her to come to Town, or go to her 
 yourself. I am still confined to the house, but y® 
 first time I go out I will call upon Mrs. Leigh. I should 
 like to see you then, and tell you several things 
 which I do not like to write, and I cannot see you at 
 home. 
 
 Yours ever, E. M. 
 1—21
 
 308 MARRIAGE [ch. v 
 
 February lUh, 1816. 
 
 Dear Lord B., — I omitted y® other morning saying 
 to you that if you wish to see me, or think I can be of 
 any use, I will go to you at any time. I have received 
 a letter from Lady NoeP saying that it is not honourable 
 to give any information to any persons except those 
 whom it is necessary to trust. If you have anything 
 more favourable to tell me, perhaps you will write me 
 a line ; or, at all events, I will call upon JVIrs. Leigh 
 to-morrow or next day. 
 
 Yours most truly, E. M. 
 
 P.S. I have seen my brother,* who said he was then 
 waiting for an answer from you, which Mr. Hanson was 
 to bring him. 
 
 * Ci-devant Milbanke, Lady Byron's mother. 
 2 Sir Ralph Noel, Lady Byron's father. 
 
 END OF VOL. I 
 
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