, with additional
comments
.
The Princess of Wales has requested Fuseli to paint from
The
Corsair
—leaving to him the choice of any passage for the subject:
so Mr. Locke tells me. Tired, jaded, selfish, and supine—must go to
bed.
Roman
, at least
Romance
, means a song sometimes, as in the
Spanish. I suppose this is the
Moniteur's
meaning, unless he has
confused it with
The Corsair
.
Daughter of William Henry Cavendish, third Duke of
Portland, married, in 1793, to Charles Greville.
Afterwards Countess of Surrey.
"Londres le 9 Mars... On vient de publier une caricature insolente et
grossiere centre le mariage projeté (de la Princesse de Galles) et
centre le Prince d'Orange. En commentant cette gravure, le Town
Talk a osé avancer que la Princesse Charlotte détestait son époux
futur, et que ses véritables affections étaient sacrifices à des vues
politiques. Le Lord Byron a fait de ce bruit populaire le sujet d'une
romance."
Moniteur
, 17 Mars, 1814.
List of Journal Entries
Contents
March 28th [1814]
Albany
night got into my new apartments
, rented of Lord Althorpe, on a
lease of seven years. Spacious, and room for my books and sabres.
In
the
house
, too, another advantage. The last few days,
or whole week, have been very abstemious, regular in exercise, and yet
very
un
well.
Yesterday, dined
tête-à-tête
at the Cocoa with Scrope Davies—sat
from six till midnight—drank between us one bottle of champagne and six
of claret, neither of which wines ever affect me. Offered to take Scrope
home in my carriage; but he was tipsy and pious, and I was obliged to
leave him on his knees praying to I know not what purpose or pagod. No
headach, nor sickness, that night nor to-day. Got up, if any thing,
earlier than usual—sparred with Jackson
ad sudorem
, and have
been much better in health than for many days. I have heard nothing more
from Scrope. Yesterday paid him four thousand eight hundred pounds, a
debt of some standing, and which I wished to have paid before. My mind
is much relieved by the removal of that
debit
.
wants me to make it up with Carlisle. I have refused
every
body else, but I can't deny her any thing;—so I must e'en
do it, though I had as lief "drink up Eisel—eat a crocodile."
Let
me see—Ward, the Hollands, the Lambs, Rogers, etc., etc.,—every body,
more or less, have been trying for the last two years to accommodate
this
couplet
quarrel, to no purpose. I shall laugh if Augusta
succeeds.
Redde a little of many things—shall get in all my books to-morrow.
this room will hold them— with "ample room and verge, etc., the
characters of hell to trace."
I must set about some employment soon;
my heart begins to eat
itself
again.
In 1804 Albany House, in Piccadilly, long occupied by the
Duke of York and Albany, was converted into sets of bachelor chambers,
and the gardens behind were also built over with additional suites of
rooms. Byron's were in the original house on the ground floor, No. 2.
Moore, writing to Rogers, April 12, 1814 (
Memoirs, etc
., vol.
viii. p. 176), says,
"Lord Byron, as you know, has removed into Albany, and lives in an
apartment, I should think thirty by forty feet."
Hamlet
, act v. sc. 1, line 299.
"Give ample room, and verge enough
The characters of hell to trace."
Gray,
The Bard
, lines 51, 52.
List of Journal Entries
Contents
April 8th [1814]
Out of town six days.
my return, found my poor little pagod,
Napoleon, pushed off his pedestal;—the thieves are in Paris. It is his
own fault. Like Milo, he would rend the oak
; but it closed again,
wedged his hands, and now the beasts—lion, bear, down to the dirtiest
jackal—may all tear him. That Muscovite winter
wedged
his
arms;—ever since, he has fought with his feet and teeth. The last may
still leave their marks; and "I guess now" (as the Yankees say) that he
will yet play them a pass. He is in their rear—between them and their
homes. Query—will they ever reach them?
He adopted this thought afterwards in his
Ode to
Napoleon
, as well as most of the historical examples in the
following paragraph:
"He who of old would rend the oak,
Dream'd not of the rebound;
Chain'd by the trunk he vainly broke—
Alone—how look'd he round?"
List of Journal Entries
Contents
Saturday, April 9th, 1814
I mark this day!
Napoleon Buonaparte has abdicated the throne of the world. "Excellent
well." Methinks Sylla did better; for he revenged and resigned in the
height of his sway, red with the slaughter of his foes—the finest
instance of glorious contempt of the rascals upon record. Dioclesian did
well too—Amurath not amiss, had he become aught except a
dervise—Charles the Fifth but so so—but Napoleon, worst of all. What!
wait till they were in his capital, and then talk of his readiness to
give up what is already gone!! "
whining monk art thou— what holy
cheat?"
'Sdeath!—Dionysius at Corinth was yet a king to this. The
"Isle of Elba" to retire to!—Well—if it had been Caprea, I should have
marvelled less. "I
men's minds are but a parcel of their fortunes."
I am utterly bewildered and confounded.
I don't know—but I think
I
, even
I
(an insect compared
with this creature), have set my life on casts not a millionth part of
this man's. But, after all, a crown may be not worth dying for. Yet, to
outlive
Lodi
for this!!!
Oh
Juvenal or Johnson could rise from the dead!
Expende—quot
libras in duce summo invenies
?
I knew they were light in the
balance of mortality; but I thought their living dust weighed more
carats
. Alas! this imperial diamond hath a flaw in it, and is
now hardly fit to stick in a glazier's pencil:—the pen of the historian
won't rate it worth a ducat.
! "something too much of this."
But I won't give him up even
now; though all his admirers have, "like the thanes, fallen from him."
In Otway's
Venice Preserved
(act iv. sc. 2), Pierre
says to Jaffier, who had betrayed him:
"What whining monk art thou? What holy cheat?
That would'st encroach upon my credulous ears,
And cant'st thus vilely! Hence! I know thee not!"
"I see, men's judgements are a parcel of their fortunes."
Antony and Cleopatra
, act iii. sc. II, line 32.
"Expende Hannibalem: quot libras in duce summo
Invenies?"
Juvenal,
Sat
. x. 147.
"Produce the urn that Hannibal contains,
And weigh the mighty dust which yet remains:
And is this all?"
Gifford's
Juvenal
(ed. 1802), vol. ii. pp. 338, 339.
"In the Statistical Account of Scotland, I find that Sir John Paterson
had the curiosity to collect, and weigh, the ashes of a person
discovered a few years since in the parish of Eccles. Wonderful to
relate, he found the whole did not exceed in weight one ounce and a
half! And is this all!"
Gifford's
Juvenal, ut supra
.
Hamlet
, act iii. sc. 2.
Macbeth
, act v. sc. 3,
"Doctor, the thanes fly from me!"
List of Journal Entries
Contents
April 10th [1814]
I do not know that I am happiest when alone; but this I am sure of, that
I never am long in the society even of
her
I love, (God knows too
well, and the devil probably too,) without a yearning for the company of
my lamp and my utterly confused and tumbled-over library. Even in the
day, I send away my carriage oftener than I use or abuse it.
Per
esempio
,—I have not stirred out of these rooms for these four days
past: but I have sparred for exercise (windows open) with Jackson an
hour daily, to attenuate and keep up the ethereal part of me. The more
violent the fatigue, the better my spirits for the rest of the day; and
then, my evenings have that calm nothingness of languor, which I most
delight in.
I have boxed an hour—written an ode to Napoleon
Buonaparte—copied it—eaten six biscuits—drunk four bottles of soda
water
—redde away the rest of my time— besides giving poor [?
Webster] a world of advice about this mistress of his, who is plaguing
him into a phthisic and intolerable tediousness. I am a pretty fellow
truly to lecture about "the sect." No matter, my counsels are all thrown
away.
The following is one of Byron's bills for soda water:
sodawater bill
List of Journal Entries
Contents
April 19th, 1814
There is ice at both poles, north and south—all extremes are the
same—misery belongs to the highest and the lowest only, to the emperor
and the beggar, when unsixpenced and unthroned. There is, to be sure, a
damned insipid medium—an equinoctial line—no one knows where, except
upon maps and measurement.
"
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death."
1
I
keep no further journal of that same hesternal torch-light; and,
to prevent me from returning, like a dog, to the vomit of memory, I tear
out the remaining leaves of this volume, and write, in
Ipecacuanha
,—"that the Bourbons are restored!!!"—"Hang up
philosophy."
To be s
ure, I have long despised myself and man, but I
never spat in the face of my species before—"O fool! I shall go mad."
Macbeth
, act v. sc. 5, line 22.
Romeo and Juliet
, act iii. sc. 3.
King Lear
, act ii. sc. 4.
List of Journal Entries
Contents
1. Poems, by W. R. Spencer. (vol. 67, 1812, pp. 54-60.)
Art. VII. Poems by William Robert Spencer. 8vo. 10s. Boards. Cadell and
Davies. 1811.
The author of this well-printed volume has more than once been
introduced to our readers, and is known to rank among that class of
poetical persons who have never been highly favoured by stern criticism.
The "mob of gentlemen who write with ease" has indeed of late years
(like other mobs) become so importunate, as to threaten an alarming
rivalry to the regular body of writers who are not fortunate enough to
be either easy or genteel. Hence the jaundiced eye with which the real
author regards the red Morocco binding of the presumptuous
"Littérateur;" we say,
the binding
, for into the book itself he
cannot condescend to look, at least not beyond the frontispiece.—Into
Mr. Spencer's volume, however, he may dip farther, and will find
sufficient to give him pleasure or pain, in proportion to his own
candour. It consists chiefly of "
Vers de Société
," calculated to
prove very delightful to a large circle of fashionable acquaintance, and
pleasing to a limited number of vulgar purchasers. These last, indeed,
may be rude enough to expect something more for their specie during the
present scarcity of change, than lines to "Young Poets and Poetesses,"
"Epitaphs upon Years," Poems "to my Grammatical Niece," "Epistle from
Sister Dolly in Cascadia to Sister Tanny in Snowdonia," etc.: but we
doubt not that a long list of persons of quality, wit, and honour, "in
town and country," who are here addressed, will be highly pleased with
themselves and with the poet who has
shewn them off
in a very
handsome volume: as will doubtless the "Butterfly at the end of Winter,"
provided that he is fortunate enough to survive the present
inclemencies. We are, however, by no means convinced that the Bellman
will relish Mr. S.'s usurpation of a "Christmas Carol;" which looks so
very like his own, that we advise him immediately to put in his claim,
and it will be universally allowed.
With the exception of these and similar productions, the volume contains
poems eminently beautiful; some which have been already published, and
others that are well worthy of present publication. Of "Leonora," with
which it opens, we made our report many years ago (in vol. xx. N.S. p.
451): but our readers, perhaps, will not be sorry to see another short
extract. We presume that they are well acquainted with the story, and
therefore select one of the central passages:
"See, where fresh blood-gouts mat the green,
Yon wheel its reeking points advance;
There, by the moon's wan light half seen,
Grim ghosts of tombless murderers dance.
'Come, spectres of the guilty dead,
With us your goblin morris ply,
Come all in festive dance to tread,
Ere on the bridal couch we lie.'
"Forward th' obedient phantoms push,
Their trackless footsteps rustle near,
In sound like autumn winds that rush
Through withering oak or beech-wood sere.
With lightning's force the courser flies,
Earth shakes his thund'ring hoofs beneath,
Dust, stones, and sparks, in whirlwind rise,
And horse and horseman heave for breath.
"Swift roll the moon-light scenes away,
Hills chasing hills successive fly;
E'en stars that pave th' eternal way,
Seem shooting to a backward sky.
'Fear'st thou, my love? the moon shines clear;
Hurrah! how swiftly speed the dead!
The dead does Leonora fear?
Oh God! oh leave, oh leave the dead!'"
Such a specimen of "the Terrible" will place the merit of the poem in a
proper point of view: but we do not think that some of the alterations
in this copy of
Leonora
are altogether so judicious as Mr. S.'s
well-known taste had led us to expect. "Reviving Friendship" (p. 5) is
perhaps less expressive than "Relenting," as it once stood; and the
phrase, "ten thousand
furlowed
heroes" (
ibid
.), throws a
new light on the heroic character. It is extremely proper that heroes
should have "furlows," since school-boys have holidays, and lawyers have
long vacations: but we very much question whether young gentlemen of the
scholastic, legal, or heroic calling, would be flattered by any epithet
derived from the relaxation of their respectable pursuits. We should
feel some hesitation in telling an interesting youth, of any given
battalion from Portugal, that he was a "furlowed hero," lest he should
prove to us that his "furlow" had by no means impaired his "heroism."
The old epithet, "war-worn," was more adapted to heroism and to poetry;
and, if we mistake not, it has very recently been superseded by an
epithet which precludes "otium cum dignitate" from the soldier, without
imparting either ease or dignity to the verse. Why is "horse and
horsemen
pant
for breath" changed to "
heave
for breath,"
unless for the alliteration of the too tempting aspirate? "Heaving" is
appropriate enough to coals and to sighs, but "panting"
belongs
to successful lovers and spirited horses; and why should Mr. S.'s horse
and horseman not have panted as heretofore?
The next poem in arrangement as well as in merit is the "Year of
Sorrow;" to which we offered a tribute of praise in our 45th vol. N. S.
p. 288.—We are sorry to observe that the compliment paid to Mr.
Wedgewood by a "late traveller" (see note, p. 50), viz. that "an
Englishman in journeying from Calais to Ispahan may have his dinner
served every day on Wedgewood's ware," is no longer a matter of fact. It
has lately been the good or evil fortune of one of our travelling
department to pass near to Calais, and to have journeyed through divers
Paynim lands to no very remote distance from Ispahan; and neither in the
palace of the Pacha nor in the caravanserai of the traveller, nor in the
hut of the peasant, was he so favoured as to masticate his pilaff from
that fashionable service. Such is, in this and numerous other instances,
the altered state of the continent and of Europe, since the annotation
of the "late traveller;" and on the authority of a
later
, we must
report that the ware has been all broken since the former passed that
way. We wish that we could efficiently exhort Mr. Wedgewood to send out
a fresh supply, on all the