372—to John Murray

Henry Gally Knight (1786-1846), who was with Byron at Trinity, Cambridge, and afterwards distinguished himself by his architectural writings (

e.g. The Normans in Sicily,

1838), began his literary career with

Ilderim, a Syrian Tale

(1816).

Phrosyne, a Grecian Tale; Alashtar, an Arabian Tale

(1817), was followed, after a considerable interval, by

Eastern Sketches

(about 1829-30). If the manuscript of the first-mentioned volume is that to which Byron refers, he seems to have changed his mind as to its merits (March 25, 1817):

"I tried at 'Ilderim;'
Ahem!"

Dear Sir,—It is all very well, except that the lines are not numbered properly, and a diabolical mistake, page 67., which

372—to John Murray

must

be corrected with the

pen

, if no other way remains; it is the omission of "

not

note

amber

rosary. This is really horrible, and nearly as bad as the stumble of mine at the Threshold—I mean the

misnomer

of bride. Pray do not let a copy go without the "

not

;" it is nonsense, and worse than nonsense, as it now stands. I wish the printer was saddled with a vampire.

Yours ever, B.

P. S.—It is still

hath

instead of

have

in page 20; never was any one so

misused

as I am by your Devils of printers.

P. S.—I hope and trust the "

not

" was inserted in the first Edition. We must have something—any thing—to set it right. It is enough to answer for one's own bulls, without other people's.

Your letter, like all the best, and even kindest things in this world, is both painful and pleasing. But, first, to what sits nearest. Do you know I was actually about to dedicate to you,—not in a formal inscription, as to one's

373—to Thomas Moore

December 8, 1813.

elders

,—but through a short prefatory letter, in which I boasted myself your intimate, and held forth the prospect of

your

poem; when, lo! the recollection of your strict injunctions of secrecy as to the said poem, more than

once

repeated by word and letter, flashed upon me, and marred my intents. I could have no motive for repressing my own desire of alluding to you (and not a day passes that I do not think and talk of you), but an idea that you might, yourself, dislike it. You cannot doubt my sincere admiration, waving personal friendship for the present, which, by the by, is not less sincere and deep rooted. I have you by rote and by heart; of which

ecce signum!

When I was at Aston, on my first visit, I have a habit, in passing my time a good deal alone, of—I won't call it singing, for that I never attempt except to myself—but of uttering, to what I think tunes, your "Oh breathe not," "When the last glimpse," and "When he who adores thee," with others of the same minstrel;—they are my matins and vespers. I assuredly did not intend them to be overheard, but, one morning, in comes, not

La Donna

, but

Il Marito

, with a very grave face, saying, "Byron, I must request you won't sing any more, at least of those songs." I stared, and said, "Certainly, but why?"—"To tell you the truth," quoth he, "they make my wife

cry

, and so melancholy, that I wish her to hear no more of them."

Now, my dear M., the effect must have been from your words, and certainly not my music. I merely mention this foolish story to show you how much I am indebted to you for even your pastimes. A man may praise and praise, but no one recollects but that which pleases—at least, in composition. Though I think no one equal to you in that department, or in satire,—and surely no one was ever so popular in both,—I certainly am of opinion that you have not yet done all

you

can do, though more than enough for any one else. I want, and the world expects, a longer work from you; and I see in you what I never saw in poet before, a strange diffidence of your own powers, which I cannot account for, and which must be unaccountable, when a

Cossac

like me can appal a

cuirassier

. Your story I did not, could not, know,—I thought only of a Peri. I

wish

you had confided in me, not for your sake, but mine, and to prevent the world from losing a much better poem than my own, but which, I yet hope, this

clashing

will not even now deprive them of

Mine is the work of a week, written,

why

I have partly told you, and partly I cannot tell you by letter—some day I will.

Go on—I shall really be very unhappy if I at all interfere with you. The success of mine is yet problematical; though the public will probably purchase a certain quantity, on the presumption of their own propensity for

The Giaour

and such "horrid mysteries." The only advantage I have is being on the spot; and that merely amounts to saving me the trouble of turning over books which I had better read again. If

your chamber

was furnished in the same way, you have no need to

go there

to describe—I mean only as to

accuracy

—because I drew it from recollection.

This last thing of mine

may

have the same fate, and I assure you I have great doubts about it. But, even if not, its little day will be over before you are ready and willing.

Come

out—"screw your courage to the sticking-place."

Except the

Post Bag

(and surely you cannot complain of a want of success there), you have not been

regularly

out for some years. No man stands higher,—whatever you may think on a rainy day, in your provincial retreat.

"Aucun homme, dans aucune langue, n'a été, peut-être, plus complètement le poëte du coeur et le poëte des femmes. Les critiques lui reprochent de n'avoir représenté le monde ní tel qu'il est, ni tel qu'il doit être; mais les femmes répondent qu'il l'a représenté tel qu'elles le désirent."

should

have thought Sismondi

had written this for you instead of Metastasio.

Write to me, and tell me of

yourself

. Do you remember what Rousseau said to some one—"Have we quarrelled? you have talked to me often, and never once mentioned yourself."

P. S.—The last sentence is an indirect apology for my egotism,—but I believe in letters it is allowed. I wish it was

mutual

. I

have

met with an odd reflection in Grimm; it shall not—at least the bad part—be applied to you or me, though

one

of us has certainly an indifferent name—but this it is:—"Many people have the reputation of being wicked, with whom we should be too happy to pass our lives." I need not add it is a woman's saying—a Mademoiselle de Sommery's

⁴

"Among the stories intended to be introduced into Lalla Rookh, which I had begun, but, from various causes, never finished, there was one which I had made some progress in, at the time of the appearance of The Bride, and which, on reading that poem, I found to contain such singular coincidences with it, not only in locality and costume, but in plot and characters, that I immediately gave up my story altogether, and began another on an entirely new subject—the Fire-worshippers. To this circumstance, which I immediately communicated to him, Lord Byron alludes in this letter. In my hero (to whom I had even given the name of 'Zelim,' and who was a descendant of Ali, outlawed, with all his followers, by the reigning Caliph) it was my intention to shadow out, as I did afterwards in another form, the national cause of Ireland. To quote the words of my letter to Lord Byron on the subject: 'I chose this story because one writes best about what one feels most, and I thought the parallel with Ireland would enable me to infuse some vigour into my hero's character. But to aim at vigour and strong feeling after you is hopeless;—that region "was made for Cæsar."'"

(Moore).

Footnote 2:

Macbeth

, act i. sc. 7.

return

Footnote 3:

De la Littérature du Midi de l'Europe

, ed. 1813, tom. ii. p. 436.

return

Footnote 4:

Grimm (

Correspondance Littéraire

, ed. 1813, part iii. tom ii. p. 126) says of Mlle. de Sommery, who died of apoplexy in 1790,

"Que de gens ont la réputation d'être méchans, avec lesquels on serait trop heureux de passer sa vie."

The

Biographie Universelle

says of her,

"Elle avait du talent pour écrire; mais elle ne l'exerça que fort tard .... Le premier livre qu'elle publia, n'étant plus très jeune, fut un recueil de pensées détachées, dédié aux mânes de Saurin, qu'elle intitula Doutes sur differentes Opinions reçues dans la Societé. Ce recueil eut un véritable succés."

Mlle. de Sommery also published, besides the

Doutes

(1782),

Lettres de Madame la Comtesse de L. à M. le Comte de R

. (1785);

Lettres de Mlle. de Tourville à Madame la Comtesse de Lénoncourt

(1788);

L'Oreille, conte Asiatique

(1789).

return

374—to John Galt ¹

Dec. 11, 1813.

My dear Galt,—There was no offence—there

could

be none. I thought it by no means impossible that we might have hit on something similar, particularly as you are a dramatist, and was anxious to assure you of the truth, viz., that I had not wittingly seized upon plot, sentiment, or incident; and I am very glad that I have not in any respect trenched upon your subjects. Something still more singular is, that the

first

part, where you have found a coincidence in some events within your observations on

life

, was

drawn

from

observations

of mine also, and I meant to have gone on with the story, but on

second

thoughts, I thought myself

two centuries

at least too late for the subject; which, though admitting of very powerful feeling and description, yet is not adapted for this age, at least this country, though the finest works of the Greeks, one of Schiller's and Alfieri's in modern times, besides several of our

old

(and best) dramatists, have been grounded on incidents of a similar cast. I therefore altered it as you perceive, and in so doing have weakened the whole, by interrupting the train of thought: and in composition I do not think

second

thoughts are the best, though

second

expressions may improve the first ideas.

I do not know how other men feel towards those they have met abroad, but to me there seems a kind of tie established between all who have met together in a foreign country, as if we had met in a state of pre-existence, and were talking over a life that has ceased: but I always look forward to renewing my travels; and though

you

, I think, are now stationary, if I can at all forward your pursuits

there

as well as here, I shall be truly glad in the opportunity.

Ever yours very sincerely, B.

P. S.—I leave town for a day or two on Monday, but after that I am always at home, and happy to see you till half-past two.

For John Galt, see

Letters

, vol. i. p. 243 [Footnote 1 of Letter 130], and vol. ii. p. 101,

note

1. Galt wrote to Byron in 1813, pointing out that "there was a remarkable coincidence in the story" (of

The Bride of Abydos

) "with a matter in which I had been interested" (

Life of Byron

, p. 180, ed. 1830). Byron, imagining himself charged with plagiarism, wrote a somewhat angry reply, to which Gait answered by stating that the coincidence was not one of ideas, sentiment, or story, but of real fact. He received the above answer (

Life of Byron

, pp. 181, 182).

On this poem Byron seems to have been particularly sensitive. He is accused of borrowing the opening lines from Mignon's song in Goethe's

Wilhelm Meister

"Kennst du das Land wo die Citronen blühn?"

Cyrus Redding (

Yesterday and To-day

, vol. ii. pp. 14, 15) suggests that Byron used the translation of the poem which he himself had made and published in 1812 or 1813.

Byron was also charged with pilfering them from Madame de Staël.

"Do you know de Staël's lines?" he asked Lady Blessington (Conversations, pp. 326, 327); "for if I am a thief, she must be the plundered, as I don't read German and do French: yet I could almost swear that I never saw her verses when I wrote mine, nor do I even now remember them. I think the first began with 'Cette terre,' etc., etc.; but the rest I forget. As you have a good memory, perhaps you would repeat them."

"I did so," says Lady Blessington, "and they are as follows:
'Cette terre, où les myrtes fleurissent,
Où les rayons des cieux tombent avec amour,
Où des sons enchanteurs dans les airs retentissent,
Où la plus douce nuit succéde au plus beau jour,' etc."

Deare Sir,—Send y'e E'r of ye new R'w a copy as he hath had y'e trouble of two walks on y't acct.

375—to John Murray

Decr. y'r 14th, 1813.

As to the man of the

Satirist

—I hope you have too much spirit to allow a single Sheet to be offered as a peace offering to him or any one. If you

, expect

never

to be

forgiven

by me—if he is not personal he is quite welcome to his opinion—and if he is, I have my own remedy.

Send a copy

double

to Dr. Clarke (y'e traveller) Cambrigge by y'e first opportunitie—and let me see you in y'e morninge y't I may mention certain thinges y'e which require sundrie though slight alterations.

Sir, your Servitor,

Biroñ

376—to Thomas Ashe ¹

4, Bennet Street, St. James's, Dec. 14, 1813.

Sir,—I leave town for a few days to-morrow. On my return, I will answer your letter more at length.

Whatever may be your situation, I cannot but commend your resolution to abjure and abandon the publication and composition of works such as those to which you have alluded. Depend upon it they amuse

few

, disgrace both

reader

and

writer

, and benefit

none

. It will be my wish to assist you, as far as my limited means will admit, to break such a bondage. In your answer, inform me what sum you think would enable you to extricate yourself from the hands of your employers, and to regain, at least, temporary independence, and I shall be glad to contribute my mite towards it. At present, I must conclude. Your name is not unknown to me, and I regret, for your own sake, that you have ever lent it to the works you mention. In saying this, I merely repeat your

own words

in your letter to me, and have no wish whatever to say a single syllable that may appear to insult your misfortunes. If I have, excuse me; it is unintentional.

Yours, etc.,

Byron

Thomas Ashe (1770-1835) had already written books of travel in North and South America, and two novels—

The Spirit of "The Book

"(1811), and

The Liberal Critic, or Henry Percy

(1812). He was a man of more ability than character, but possessed little of either. His

Memoirs

(1815) describe his literary undertakings, one at least of which was of a blackmailing kind, and are interspersed with protestations of his desire for independence, and of regrets for the wretched stuff that dropped from his pen.

His first novel,

The Spirit of "The Book,"

gained some success from its subject. In 1806-7 Lady Douglas brought certain charges against the Princess of Wales, which were answered on her behalf by Spencer Perceval. The extraordinary secrecy with which this defence, called "The Book," was printed, and its complete suppression, excited curiosity, which was increased by the following advertisement in the

Times

for March 27, 1809:

"'A Book'—Any Person having in their possession a COPY of a CERTAIN BOOK, printed by Mr. Edwards, in 1807, but never published, with W. Lindsell's Name as the Seller of the same on the title page, and will bring it to W. Lindsell, Bookseller, Wimpole-Street, will receive a handsome gratuity."

The subject-matter of this book, then unknown to the public, Ashe professes to embody in

The Spirit of "The Book;" or, Memoirs of Caroline, Princess of Hasburgh, a Political and Amatory Romance

(3 vols., 1811). The letters, which purport to be written from Caroline to Charlotte, and contain (vol. ii. pp. 152-181) an attack on the Lady Jersey, who attended the princess, are absolutely dull, and scarcely even indecent.

Ashe's

Memoirs and Confessions

(3 vols., 1815) are dedicated to the Duke of Northumberland and to Byron, to whom, in a preface written at Havre, he acknowledges his "transcendent obligations."