Lord Byron - Delphi Poets Series

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by Lord Byron


  Believe me yours, etc.,

  BYRON.

  [Footnote 1: J. M. B. Pigot, eldest brother of Miss E. B. Pigot (see Letter of August 29, 1804, page 32, note 1). To him Byron addressed his “Reply” (‘Poems’, vol. i. pp. 53-56) and verses “To the Sighing Strephon” (‘Ibid’., pp. 63-66). In 1805-6 Pigot was studying medicine at Edinburgh, and in his vacations saw much of Byron. He died at Ruddington, Notts., November 26, 1871, aged 86. It would appear that Byron had, with the connivance of the Pigots, escaped to London, after a quarrel with his mother; but the caution to keep his lodgings secret gives a theatrical air to the letter, as the rooms, kept by Mrs. Massingberd, were originally taken by Mrs. Byron, and often occupied by her, and she was at the time corresponding with Hanson about her son’s debt to Mrs. Massingberd, who seems to have been both landlady and money-lender to Byron.]

  53. — To Elizabeth Bridget Pigot.

  London, August 10, 1806.

  MY DEAR BRIDGET, — As I have already troubled your brother with more than he will find pleasure in deciphering, you are the next to whom I shall assign the employment of perusing this second epistle. You will perceive from my first, that no idea of Mrs. B.’s arrival had disturbed me at the time it was written; not so the present, since the appearance of a note from the illustrious cause of my sudden decampment has driven the “natural ruby from my cheeks,” and completely blanched my woebegone countenance. This gunpowder intimation of her arrival (confound her activity!) breathes less of terror and dismay than you will probably imagine, from the volcanic temperament of her ladyship; and concludes with the comfortable assurance of present motion being prevented by the fatigue of her journey, for which my blessings are due to the rough roads and restive quadrupeds of his Majesty’s highways. As I have not the smallest inclination to be chased round the country, I shall e’en make a merit of necessity; and since, like Macbeth, “they’ve tied me to the stake, I cannot fly,” I shall imitate that valorous tyrant, and bear-like fight the “course,” all escape being precluded. I can now engage with less disadvantage, having drawn the enemy from her intrenchments, though, like the prototype to whom I have compared myself, with an excellent chance of being knocked on the head. However, “lay on Macduff”, and “damned be he who first cries, Hold, enough.”

  I shall remain in town for, at least, a week, and expect to hear from you before its expiration. I presume the printer has brought you the offspring of my poetic mania. Remember in the first line to read “loud the winds whistle,” instead of “round,” which that blockhead Ridge had inserted by mistake, and makes nonsense of the whole stanza. Addio! — Now to encounter my Hydra.

  Yours ever.

  [Footnote 1: Byron’s first volume of verse was now in the press. The line to which he alludes is the first line of the poem, “On Leaving Newstead Abbey” (‘Poems’, vol. i. pp. 1-4). It now runs —

  “Through thy battlements, Newstead, the hollow winds whistle.”

  (For the bibliography of his early poems, see ‘Poems’, vol. i., Bibliographical Note; and vol. vi., Appendix.) The first collection (‘Fugitive Pieces’, printed by S. and J. Ridge, Newark, 4to, 1806) was destroyed, with the exception of two copies, by the advice of the Rev. J. T. Becher (see page 182 [Letter 94], [Foot]note 1 ). The second collection (‘Poems on Various Occasions’, printed by S. and J. Ridge, Newark, 12mo, 1807) was published anonymously. It is to this edition that Letters 60, 61, 65, 67, 68, 69, 70, refer.

  In the summer of 1807, ‘Poems on Various Occasions’ was superseded by the third collection, called ‘Hours of Idleness’ (printed by S. and J. Ridge, Newark, 12mo, 1807), published with the author’s name. To this edition Letters 76 and 78 refer. ‘Hours of Idleness’ was reviewed by Lord Brougham (‘Notes from a Diary’, by Sir M. E. Grant Duff, vol. ii. p. 189) in the ‘Edinburgh Review’ for January, 1808.

  The fourth and final collection, entitled ‘Poems Original and Translated’ (printed by S. and J. Ridge, Newark, 12mo, 1808), was dedicated to the Earl of Carlisle.

  54. — To John M. B. Pigot.

  London, Sunday, midnight, August 10, 1806.

  Dear Pigot, — This astonishing packet will, doubtless, amaze you; but having an idle hour this evening, I wrote the enclosed stanzas, which I request you will deliver to Ridge, to be printed separate from my other compositions, as you will perceive them to be improper for the perusal of ladies; of course, none of the females of your family must see them. I offer 1000 apologies for the trouble I have given you in this and other instances.

  Yours truly.

  [Footnote 1: These are probably some silly lines “To Mary,” written in the erotic style of Moore’s early verse. To the same Mary, of whom nothing is known, are addressed the lines “To Mary, on receiving her Picture” (‘Poems’, vol. i. pp. 32, 33).]

  55. — To John M. B. Pigot.

  Piccadilly, August 16, 1806.

  I cannot exactly say with Caesar, “Veni, vidi, vici:” however, the most important part of his laconic account of success applies to my present situation; for, though Mrs. Byron took the trouble of “coming,” and “seeing,” yet your humble servant proved the victor. After an obstinate engagement of some hours, in which we suffered considerable damage, from the quickness of the enemy’s fire, they at length retired in confusion, leaving behind the artillery, field equipage, and some prisoners: their defeat is decisive for the present campaign. To speak more intelligibly, Mrs. B. returns immediately, but I proceed, with all my laurels, to Worthing, on the Sussex coast; to which place you will address (to be left at the post office) your next epistle. By the enclosure of a second gingle of rhyme, you will probably conceive my muse to be vastly prolific; her inserted production was brought forth a few years ago, and found by accident on Thursday among some old papers. I have recopied it, and, adding the proper date, request that it may be printed with the rest of the family. I thought your sentiments on the last bantling would coincide with mine, but it was impossible to give it any other garb, being founded on facts. My stay at Worthing will not exceed three weeks, and you may possibly behold me again at Southwell the middle of September.

  Will you desire Ridge to suspend the printing of my poems till he hears further from me, as I have determined to give them a new form entirely? This prohibition does not extend to the two last pieces I have sent with my letters to you. You will excuse the dull vanity of this epistle, as my brain is a chaos of absurd images, and full of business, preparations, and projects.

  I shall expect an answer with impatience; — believe me, there is nothing at this moment could give me greater delight than your letter.

  56. — To John M. B. Pigot.

  London, August 18, 1806.

  I am just on the point of setting off for Worthing, and write merely to request you will send that idle scoundrel Charles with my horses immediately; tell him I am excessively provoked he has not made his appearance before, or written to inform me of the cause of his delay, particularly as I supplied him with money for his journey. On no pretext is he to postpone his march one day longer; and if, in obedience to the caprices of Mrs. B. (who, I presume, is again spreading desolation through her little monarchy), he thinks proper to disregard my positive orders, I shall not, in future, consider him as my servant. He must bring the surgeon’s bill with him, which I will discharge immediately on receiving it. Nor can I conceive the reason of his not acquainting Frank with the state of my unfortunate quadrupeds. Dear Pigot, forgive this petulant effusion, and attribute it to the idle conduct of that precious rascal, who, instead of obeying my injunctions, is sauntering through the streets of that political Pandemonium, Nottingham. Present my remembrance to your family and the Leacrofts, and believe me, etc.

  P.S. — I delegate to you the unpleasant task of despatching him on his journey — Mrs. B.’s orders to the contrary are not to be attended to: he is to proceed first to London, and then to Worthing, without delay. Every thing I have left must be sent to London. My Poetics you will pack up f
or the same place, and not even reserve a copy for yourself and sister, as I am about to give them an entire new form: when they are complete, you shall have the first fruits. Mrs. B. on no account is to see or touch them. Adieu.

  57. — To John M. B. Pigot.

  Little Hampton, August 26, 1806.

  I this morning received your epistle, which I was obliged to send for to Worthing, whence I have removed to this place, on the same coast, about eight miles distant from the former. You will probably not be displeased with this letter, when it informs you that I am £30,000 richer than I was at our parting, having just received intelligence from my lawyer that a cause has been gained at Lancaster assizes, which will be worth that sum by the time I come of age. Mrs. B. is, doubtless, acquainted of this acquisition, though not apprised of its exact value, of which she had better be ignorant; for her behaviour under any sudden piece of favourable intelligence, is, if possible, more ridiculous than her detestable conduct on the most trifling circumstances of an unpleasant nature. You may give my compliments to her, and say that her detaining my servant’s things shall only lengthen my absence: for unless they are immediately despatched to 16, Piccadilly, together with those which have been so long delayed, belonging to myself, she shall never again behold my radiant countenance illuminating her gloomy mansion. If they are sent, I may probably appear in less than two years from the date of my present epistle.

  Metrical compliment is an ample reward for my strains: you are one of the few votaries of Apollo who unite the sciences over which that deity presides. I wish you to send my poems to my lodgings in London immediately, as I have several alterations and some additions to make; every copy must be sent, as I am about to amend them, and you shall soon behold them in all their glory. I hope you have kept them from that upas tree, that antidote to the arts, Mrs. B. Entre nous, — you may expect to see me soon. Adieu.

  Yours ever.

  [Footnote 1: Byron was disappointed in his expectations. Fresh legal difficulties arose, and Newstead had to be sold before they were settled (see page 78 [Letter 34], [Foot]note 2).]

  58. — To Elizabeth Bridget Pigot.

  My Dear Bridget, — I have only just dismounted from my Pegasus, which has prevented me from descending to plain prose in an epistle of greater length to your fair self. You regretted, in a former letter, that my poems were not more extensive; I now for your satisfaction announce that I have nearly doubled them, partly by the discovery of some I conceived to be lost, and partly by some new productions. We shall meet on Wednesday next; till then, believe me,

  Yours affectionately,

  BYRON.

  P.S. — Your brother John is seized with a poetic mania, and is now rhyming away at the rate of three lines per hour — so much for inspiration! Adieu!

  [Footnote 1: This letter was written about September, 1806, from Harrogate, where Byron had gone with John Pigot. It forms the conclusion of a longer letter, written by Pigot to his sister, from which Moore quotes (‘Life’, p. 37) the following passage: —

  “Harrowgate is still extremely full; Wednesday (to-day) is our ball-night, and I meditate going into the room for an hour, although I am by no means fond of strange faces. Lord B., you know, is even more shy than myself; but for an hour this evening I will shake it off…. How do our theatricals proceed? Lord Byron can say ‘all’ his part, and I ‘most’ of mine. He certainly acts it inimitably. Lord B. is now ‘poetising’, and, since he has been here, has written some very pretty verses [‘To a Beautiful Quaker,’ see ‘Poems’, vol. i. pp. 38-41]. He is very good in trying to amuse me as much as possible, but it is not in my nature to be happy without either female society or study…. There are many pleasant rides about here, which I have taken in company with Bo’swain, who, with Brighton, is universally admired. ‘You’ must read this to Mrs. B., as it is a little ‘Tony Lumpkinish’. Lord B. desires some space left: therefore, with respect to all the comedians ‘elect’, believe me,” etc., etc.

  (For the theatricals to which Mr. Pigot alludes, see page 117 [Letter 65], [Foot]note 3 .) Brighton, it may be added, was one of Byron’s horses; the other was called Sultan. Bo’swain was the dog to which Byron addressed the well-known epitaph (see ‘Poems’, vol. i. pp. 280, 281, and note 1).

  Moore also quotes Pigot’s recollections of the visit to Harrogate

  (‘Life’, pp. 37, 38).

  “We, I remember, went in Lord Byron’s own carriage, with post-horses; and he sent his groom with two saddle-horses, and a beautifully formed, very ferocious, bull-mastiff, called Nelson, to meet us there. Boatswain went by the side of his valet Frank on the box, with us.

  “The bull-dog, Nelson, always wore a muzzle, and was occasionally sent for into our private room, when the muzzle was taken off, much to my annoyance, and he and his master amused themselves with throwing the room into disorder. There was always a jealous feud between this Nelson and Boatswain; and whenever he latter came into the room while the former was there, they instantly seized each other; and then, Byron, myself, Frank, and all the waiters that could be found, were vigorously engaged in parting them, — which was in general only effected by thrusting poker and tongs into the mouths of each. But, one day, Nelson unfortunately escaped out of the room without his muzzle, and going into the stable-yard fastened upon the throat of a horse from which he could not be disengaged. The stable-boys ran in alarm to find Frank, who taking one of his Lord’s Wogdon’s pistols, always kept loaded in his room, shot poor Nelson through the head, to the great regret of Byron.

  “We were at the Crown Inn, at Low Harrowgate. We always dined in the public room, but retired very soon after dinner to our private one; for Byron was no more a friend to drinking than myself. We lived retired, and made few acquaintance; for he was naturally shy, ‘very’ shy; which people who did not know him mistook for pride. While at Harrowgate he accidentally met with Professor Hailstone from Cambridge, and appeared much delighted to see him. The professor was at Upper Harrowgate: we called upon him one evening to take him to the theatre, I think, — and Lord Byron sent his carriage for him, another time, to a ball at the Granby. This desire to show attention to one of the professors of his college is a proof that, though he might choose to satirise the mode of education in the university, and to abuse the antiquated regulations and restrictions to which undergraduates are subjected, he had yet a due discrimination in his respect for the individuals who belonged to it. I have always, indeed, heard him speak in high terms of praise of Hailstone, as well as of his master, Bishop Mansel, of Trinity College, and of others whose names I have now forgotten.

  “Few people understood Byron; but I know that he had naturally a kind and feeling heart, and that there was not a single spark of malice in his composition.”

  Professor Hailstone was Woodwardian Professor of Geology (1788-1818).

  (For Bishop Mansel, see page 84, note 1.)]

  59. — To John Hanson.

  Southwell, Dec. 7th, 1806.

  Sir, — A Letter to Mrs. Byron has just arrived which states, from what “you have heard of the Tenor of my Letters,” you will not put up with Insult. I presume this means (for I will not be positive on what is rather ambiguously expressed) that some offence to you has been conveyed in the above mentioned Epistles. If you will peruse the papers in question, you will discover that the person insulted is not yourself, or any one of your “Connections.” On Mr. B.’s apology, I have expressed my opinion in a Letter to your Son, if any Misrepresentation has taken place, it must be those “Connections” to whom I am to pay such Deference, & whose conduct to me has deserved such ample respect. I must now beg leave to observe in turn, that I am by no means disposed to bear Insult, &, be the consequences what they may, I will always declare, in plain and explicit Terms, my Grievance, nor will I overlook the slightest Mark of disrespect, & silently brood over affronts from a mean and interested dread of Injury to my person or property. The former I have Strength and resolution to protect; the latter is too tr
ifling by its Loss to occasion a moments Uneasiness.

  Though not conversant with the methodical & dilatory arrangements of Law or Business, I know enough of Justice to direct my conduct by the principles of Equity, nor can I reconcile the “Insolence of office” to her regulations or forget in an Instant a poignant Affront.

  But enough of this Dispute. You will perceive my Sentiments on the Subject, in my correspondence with Mr. B. and Mr. H. Junior. In future to prevent a repetition and altercation I shall advise; but as, even then, some Demur may take place, I wish to be informed, if the equitable Court of Chancery, whose paternal care of their Ward can never be sufficiently commended, have determined, in the great Flow of parental Affection, to withhold their beneficent Support, till I return to “Alma Mater” (i.e.) Cambridge. Your Information on this point will oblige, as a College life is neither conducive to my Improvement, nor suitable to my Inclination. As to the reverse of the Rochdale Trial, I received the News of Success without confidence or exultation; I now sustain the Loss without repining. My Expectations from Law were never very sanguine.

  I remain, yr very obedt. sert.,

  BYRON.

  [Footnote 1: Hanson’s partner, Birch, the “Mr. B.” of the letter, seems to have irritated Byron by withholding the income allotted to him by the Court of Chancery for his education at Cambridge. The attempt to compel his return to Trinity by cutting off the supplies, failed. He did not appear again at Cambridge till the summer term of 1807.]

  60. — To J. Ridge.

  Dorant’s Hotel, Albemarle Street, Jany. 12, 1807.

  Mr. Ridge, — I understand from some of my friends, that several of the papers are in the habit of publishing extracts from my volume, particularly the Morning Herald. I cannot say for my own part I have observed this, but I am assured it is so. The thing is of no consequence to me, except that I dislike it. But it is to you, and as publisher you should put a stop to it. The Morning Herald is the paper; of course you cannot address any other, as I am sure I have seen nothing of the kind in mine. You will act upon this as you think proper, and proceed with the 2d. Edition as you please. I am in no hurry, and I still think you were premature in undertaking it.

 

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