334—to Sir James Mackintosh

Dear Sir James,—I was to have left London on Friday, but will certainly remain a day longer (and believe I

334—to Sir James Mackintosh

Sept. 27, 1813.

would a year

) to have the honour of meeting you. My best respects to Lady Mackintosh.

Ever your obliged and faithful servant,

Byron

335—to Thomas Moore

September 27, 1813.

Thomas

Moore,—(Thou wilt never be called "

true

Thomas,"

like he of Ercildoune,) why don't you write to me?—as you won't, I must. I was near you at Aston the other day, and hope I soon shall be again. If so, you must and shall meet me, and go to Matlock and elsewhere, and take what, in

flash

dialect, is poetically termed "a lark," with Rogers and me for accomplices. Yesterday, at Holland House, I was introduced to Southey—the best-looking bard I have seen for some time. To have that poet's head and shoulders, I would almost have written his Sapphics. He is certainly a prepossessing person to look on, and a man of talent, and all that, and—

there

is his eulogy.

—— read me

part

of a letter from you. By the foot of Pharaoh, I believe there was abuse, for he stopped short, so he did, after a fine saying about our correspondence, and

looked

—I wish I could revenge myself by attacking you, or by telling you that I have

had

to defend you—an agreeable way which one's friends have of recommending themselves by saying—"Ay, ay,

gave it Mr. Such-a-one for what he said about your being a plagiary, and a rake, and so on." But do you know that you are one of the very few whom I never have the satisfaction of hearing abused, but the reverse;—and do you suppose I will forgive

that

I have been in the country, and ran away from the Doncaster races.

is odd,—I was a visitor in the same house

which came to my sire as a residence with Lady Carmarthen (with whom he adulterated before his majority—by the by, remember

she

was not my mamma),—and they thrust me into an old room, with a nauseous picture over the chimney, which I should suppose my papa regarded with due respect, and which, inheriting the family taste, I looked upon with great satisfaction. I stayed a week with the family, and behaved very well—though the lady of the house is young, and religious, and pretty, and the master is my particular friend. I felt no wish for any thing but a poodle dog, which they kindly gave me. Now, for a man of my courses not even to have

coveted

, is a sign of great amendment.

Pray

pardon all this nonsense, and don't "snub me when I'm in spirits."

Ever yours,

BN.

Here's an impromptu for you by a "person of quality," written last week, on being reproached for low spirits:

When from the heart where Sorrow sits,
Her dusky shadow mounts too high,
And o'er the changing aspect flits,
And clouds the brow, or fills the eye:
Heed not that gloom, which soon shall sink;
My Thoughts their dungeon know too well—
Back to my breast the wanderers shrink,
And bleed within their silent cell.

Footnote 1:

Thomas Learmont, of Ercildoune, called "Thomas the "Rhymer," is to reappear on earth when Shrove Tuesday and Good Friday change places. He sleeps beneath the Eildon Hills.

Footnote 2:

Aston Hall, Rotherham, at that time rented by J. Wedderburn Webster.

Footnote 3:

She Stoops to Conquer

(act ii.) Tony Lumpkin says,

"I wish you'd let me and my good alone, then—snubbing this way when I'm in spirits."

List of Letters
Contents
cross-reference: return to Footnote 2 of Letter 210

336—to John Murray

Sept. 29, 1813.

Dear Sir,—Pray suspend the

proofs

for I am bitten again and have quantities for other parts of

The Giaour

Yours ever,

P. S.—You shall have these in the course of the day.

My dear Webster,—Thanks for your letter. I had answered it by

337—to James Wedderburn Webster

September 30th, 1813.

anticipation

last night, and this is but a postscript to my reply. My yesterday's contained some advice, which I now see you don't want, and hope you never will.

So! Petersham

has

not

joined you. I pity the poor women. No one can properly repair such a deficiency; but rather than such a chasm should be left utterly unfathomable, I, even I, the most awkward of attendants and deplorable of danglers, would have been of your forlorn hope, on this expedition. Nothing but business, and the notion of my being utterly superfluous in so numerous a party, would have induced me to resign so soon my quiet apartments never interrupted but by the sound, or the more harmonious barking of Nettle, and clashing of billiard balls.

On Sunday I shall leave town and mean to join you immediately. I have not yet had my sister's answer to Lady Frances's very kind invitation, but expect it tomorrow. Pray

assure

Lady Frances that I never can forget the obligation conferred upon me in this respect, and I trust that even Lady Catherine

will, in this instance, not question my "stability."

I yesterday wrote you rather a long tirade about La Comptesse, but you seem in no immediate peril; I will therefore burn it. Yet I don't know why I should, as you may relapse: it shall e'en go.

I have been passing my time with Rogers and Sir James Mackintosh; and once at Holland House I met Southey; he is a person of very

epic

appearance, and has a fine head—as far as the outside goes, and wants nothing but taste to make the inside equally attractive.

Ever, my dear W., yours,

Biron.

P.S.—I read your letter thus: "the Countess is

miserable

" instead of which it is "

inexorable

" a very different thing. The best way is to let her alone; she must be a

diablesse

by what you told me. You have probably not

bid

high enough.

Now

you are not, perhaps, of my opinion; but I would not give the tithe of a Birmingham farthing for a woman who could or would be purchased, nor indeed for any woman

quoad mere woman

; that is to say, unless I loved her for something more than her sex. If she

loves

, a little

pique

is not amiss, nor even if she don't; the next thing to a woman's

love

in a man's favour is her

hatred

,—a seeming paradox but true. Get them once out of

indifference

and circumstance, and their passions will do wonders for a

dasher

which I suppose you are, though I seldom had the impudence or patience to follow them up.

Footnote 1:

Lord Petersham was one of the chief dandies of the day. Gronow in 1814 (

Reminiscences

, vol. i. p. 285) found him

"making a particular sort of blacking, which he said would eventually supersede every other."

His snuff-mixture was famous among tobacconists, and he gave his name to a fashionable great-coat. In his collection of snuff-boxes, one of the finest in England, he was supposed to have a box for every day in the year. Gronow (

ibid

"heard him, on the occasion of a delightful old light-blue Sèvres box he was using being admired, say, in his lisping way, 'Yes, it is a nice summer box, but would not do for winter wear.'"

Lord Petersham, who never went out of doors before 6 p.m., was celebrated for his brown carriages, brown horses, brown harness, and brown liveries.

Footnote 2:

Lady Catherine Annesley, sister of Lady F. W. Webster, afterwards Lady John Somerset.

My Dear H.,—I leave town again for Aston on Sunday, but have messages for you. Lord Holland desired me repeatedly to bring you; he wants to know you much, and begged me to say so: you will like him. I had an invitation for you to dinner there this last Sunday, and Rogers is perpetually screaming because you don't call, and wanted you also to dine with him on Wednesday last. Yesterday we had Curran there—who is beyond all conception! and Mackintosh and the wits are to be seen at H. H. constantly, so that I think you would like their society. I will be a judge between you and the attorneo. So B[utler] may mention me to Lucien if he still adheres to his opinion. Pray let Rogers be one; he has the best taste extant. Bland's nuptials delight me; if I had the least hand in bringing them about it will be a subject of selfish satisfaction to me these three weeks. Desire Drury—if he loves me—to kick Dwyer thrice for frightening my horses with his flame-coloured whiskers last July. Let the kicks be hard, etc.

338—to Francis Hodgson

October 1, 1813.

You have not answered some six letters of mine. This, therefore, is my penultimate. I will write to you once more, but, after that—I swear by all the saints—I am silent and supercilious. I

339—to Thomas Moore

October 2, 1813.

have

met Curran

at Holland House—he beats every body;—his imagination is beyond human, and his humour (it is difficult to define what is wit) perfect. Then he has fifty faces, and twice as many voices, when he mimics—I never met his equal. Now,

were

I a woman, and eke a virgin, that is the man I should make my Scamander

He is quite fascinating. Remember, I have met him but once; and you, who have known him long, may probably deduct from my panegyric. I almost fear to meet him again, lest the impression should be lowered. He talked a great deal about you—a theme never tiresome to me, nor any body else that I know. What a variety of expression he conjures into that naturally not very fine countenance of his! He absolutely changes it entirely. I have done—for I can't describe him, and you know him. On Sunday I return to Aston, where I shall not be far from you. Perhaps I shall hear from you in the mean time. Good night.

Saturday morn.—Your letter has cancelled all my anxieties. I did

not suspect

you in

earnest

. Modest again! Because I don't do a very shabby thing, it seems, I "don't fear your competition." If it were reduced to an alternative of preference, I

should

dread you, as much as Satan does Michael. But is there not room enough in our respective regions? Go on—it will soon be my turn to forgive. To-day I dine with Mackintosh and Mrs.

Stale

—as John Bull may be pleased to denominate Corinne—whom I saw last night, at Covent Garden, yawning over the humour of Falstaff.

The reputation of "gloom," if one's friends are not included in the

reputants

, is of great service; as it saves one from a legion of impertinents, in the shape of common-place acquaintance. But thou know'st I can be a right merry and conceited fellow, and rarely

larmoyant

Murray

shall reinstate your line forthwith

I believe the blunder in the motto was mine;—and yet I have, in general, a memory for you, and am sure it was rightly printed at first.

I do "blush" very often, if I may believe Ladies H. and M.;—but luckily, at present, no one sees me. Adieu.

Footnote 1:

Rogers (

Table-Talk, etc

., p. 161) regretted "that so little of Curran's brilliant talk has been preserved." John Philpot Curran (1750-1817), after accepting the Mastership of the Rolls in Ireland (1806), spent much of his time in England. He retired from the Bench, where he never shone, in 1814.

In Byron's

Detached Thoughts

(1821) occurs the following passage:

"I was much struck with the simplicity of Grattan's manners in private life. They were odd, but they were natural. Curran used to take him off, bowing to the very ground, and 'thanking God that he had no peculiarities of gesture or appearance,' in a way irresistibly ludicrous. Rogers used to call him a 'Sentimental Harlequin;' but Rogers backbites everybody, and Curran, who used to quiz his great friend Godwin to his very face, would hardly respect a fair mark of mimicry in another. To be sure, Curran was admirable! to hear his description of the examination of an Irish witness was next to hearing his own speeches; the latter I never heard, but I have the former."

Elsewhere (

ibid

.) he returns to the subject:

"Curran! Curran's the man who struck me most—such imagination! There never was anything like it, that ever I saw or heard of. His published life—his published speeches—give you no idea of the man; none at all. He was a Machine of imagination, as some one said that Piron was an 'Epigrammatic Machine.' I did not see a great deal of Curran,—only in 1813; but I met him at home (for he used to call on me), and in society, at Mackintosh's, Holland House, etc., etc. And he was wonderful, even to me, who had seen many remarkable men of the time."

The following notes on this passage are in the handwriting of Walter Scott:

"When Mathews first began to imitate Curran in Dublin—in society, I mean,—Curran sent for him and said, the moment he entered the room, 'Mr. Mathews, you are a first-rate artist, and, since you are to do my picture, pray allow me to give you a sitting.' Everyone knows how admirably Mathews succeeded in furnishing at last the portraiture begun under these circumstances. No one was more aware of the truth than Curran himself. In his latter and feeble days, he was riding in Hyde Park one morning, bowed down over the saddle and bitterly dejected in his air. Mathews happened to observe and saluted him. Curran stopped his horse for a moment, squeezed Charles by the hand, and said in that deep whisper which the comedian so exquisitely mimics, 'Don't speak to me, my dear Mathews; you are the only Curran now!'"

"Did you know Curran?" asked Byron of Lady Blessington (Conversations, p. 176); "he was the most wonderful person I ever saw. In him was combined an imagination the most brilliant and profound, with a flexibility and wit that would have justified the observation applied to ——, that his heart was in his head."

Moore (

Journal, etc

., vol. i. p. 40) quotes a couplet by Mrs. Battier upon Curran, which "commemorates in a small compass two of his most striking peculiarities, namely, his very unprepossessing personal appearance, and his great success, notwithstanding, in pursuits of gallantry...:

"'For though his monkey face might fail to woo her,
Yet, ah! his monkey tricks would quite undo her.'"

Footnote 2:

In the spurious letters of Æschines (Letter x.) is a passage which explains the allusion.

"It is the custom of maidens, on the eve of their marriage, to wash in the waters of the Scamander, and then to utter this almost sacred formula,
'Take, O Scamander, my virginity'

Greek: to èpos toûto hosper hierón ti epilégein, Lhabé mou Scámandre tàen parthénian

Footnote 3:

"The motto to The Giaour:
One fatal remembrance—one sorrow that throws
Its bleak shade alike o'er our joys and our woes,' etc.
which is taken from one of the Irish Melodies, had been quoted by him incorrectly in the first editions of the poem" (Moore).