The Works of Lord Byron: Letters and Journals Volume I Part 54

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

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

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

Yours ever.

152.--To his Mother.

Athens, February 28, 1811.

DEAR MADAM,--As I have received a firman for Egypt, etc., I shall proceed to that quarter in the spring, and I beg you will state to Mr.

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

Believe me, yours ever, BYRON.

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

153.--To his Mother.

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

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

My plans will so much depend on circ.u.mstances, that I shall not venture to lay down an opinion on the subject. My prospects are not very promising, but I suppose we shall wrestle through life like our neighbours; indeed, by Hanson's last advices, I have some apprehension of finding Newstead dismantled by Messrs. Brothers,[1] etc., and he seems determined to force me into selling it, but he will be baffled.

I don't suppose I shall be much pestered with visiters; but if I am, you must receive them, for I am determined to have n.o.body breaking in upon my retirement: you know that I never was fond of society, and I am less so than before. I have brought you a shawl, and a quant.i.ty of attar of roses, but these I must smuggle, if possible. I trust to find my library in tolerable order.

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

To drop my metaphor, I beg leave to subscribe myself

Yours ever, BYRON.

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

[Footnote 1: Brothers, an upholsterer of Nottingham, had put in an execution at Newstead for 1600.]

154.--To R. C. Dallas.

_Volage_ Frigate, at sea, June 28, 1811.

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

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

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

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

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

Yours ever sincerely, BYRON.

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

[Footnote 2: Joseph Blacket (1786-1810) has his place in 'English Bards'

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

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

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

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

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

[Footnote 3: Dallas called on Byron at Reddish's Hotel, St. James's Street, July 15, 1811, and received from him the MS. of 'Hints from Horace'. Byron finished the work March 12, 1811, at the Franciscan Convent at Athens, where he found a copy of the 'De Arte Poetica'.

('Hints from Horace' were not, however, published till 1831.) On July 16 Dallas called again, and expressed surprise that Byron had written nothing else. Byron then produced out of his trunk 'Childe Harold's Pilgrimage', saying, "They are not worth troubling you with, but you shall have them all with you if you like." He was as reluctant to publish 'Childe Harold' as he was eager to publish 'Hints from Horace'.]

155.--To Francis Hodgson.