by Lord Byron
“I have had a most kind letter from Lord Holland on ‘The Bride of Abydos,’ which he likes, and so does Lady H. This is very good-natured in both, from whom I do not deserve any quarter. Yet I ‘did’ think at the time, that my cause of enmity proceeded from Holland House, and am glad I was wrong, and wish I had not been in such a hurry with that confounded Satire, of which I would suppress even the memory; but people, now they can’t get it, make a fuss, I verily believe out of contradiction.”]
[Footnote 4: In the early numbers of the ‘Edinburgh Review’ reviews were
published of Southey’s ‘Thalaba’ and ‘Madoc;’ of Moore’s ‘Odes of
Anacreon’ and ‘Poems;’ of Lord Lauderdale’s ‘Inquiry into the Nature and
Origin of Public Wealth;’ of Lord Strangford’s ‘Translations from
Camoëns;’ of Payne Knight’s ‘Principles of Taste.’]
95. — To the Rev. John Becher.
Dorant’s, March 28, 1808.
I have lately received a copy of the new edition from Ridge, and it is high time for me to return my best thanks to you for the trouble you have taken in the superintendence. This I do most sincerely, and only regret that Ridge has not seconded you as I could wish, — at least, in the bindings, paper, etc., of the copy he sent to me. Perhaps those for the public may be more respectable in such articles.
You have seen the ‘Edinburgh Review’, of course. I regret that Mrs. Byron is so much annoyed. For my own part, these “paper bullets of the brain” have only taught me to stand fire; and, as I have been lucky enough upon the whole, my repose and appetite are not discomposed. Pratt, the gleaner, author, poet, etc., etc., addressed a long rhyming epistle to me on the subject, by way of consolation; but it was not well done, so I do not send it, though the name of the man might make it go down. The E. Rs. have not performed their task well; at least the literati tell me this; and I think I could write a more sarcastic critique on myself than any yet published. For instance, instead of the remark, — ill-natured enough, but not keen, — about Macpherson, I (quoad reviewers) could have said, “Alas, this imitation only proves the assertion of Dr. Johnson, that many men, women, and children, could write such poetry as Ossian’s.”
I am thin and in exercise. During the spring or summer I trust we shall meet. I hear Lord Ruthyn leaves Newstead in April. As soon as he quits it for ever, I wish much you would take a ride over, survey the mansion, and give me your candid opinion on the most advisable mode of proceeding with regard to the house. Entre nous, I am cursedly dipped; my debts, every thing inclusive, will be nine or ten thousand before I am twenty-one. But I have reason to think my property will turn out better than general expectation may conceive. Of Newstead I have little hope or care; but Hanson, my agent, intimated my Lancashire property was worth three Newsteads. I believe we have it hollow; though the defendants are protracting the surrender, if possible, till after my majority, for the purpose of forming some arrangement with me, thinking I shall probably prefer a sum in hand to a reversion. Newstead I may sell; — perhaps I will not, — though of that more anon. I will come down in May or June.
Yours most truly, etc.
[Footnote 1: Samuel Jackson Pratt (1749-1814), actor, itinerant lecturer, poet of the Cruscan school, tragedian, and novelist, published a large number of volumes. His ‘Gleanings’ in England, Holland, Wales, and Westphalia attained some reputation. His ‘Sympathy, a Poem’ (1788) passed through several editions. His stage-name, as well as his ‘nom de plume’, was Courtney Melmoth. He was the discoverer and patron of the cobbler-poet, Blacket (see also ‘English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers’, line 319, note 2).]
[Footnote 2: “Dr. Johnson’s reply to the friend who asked him if any man ‘living’ could have written such a book, is well known: ‘Yes, sir; many men, many women, and many children.’ I inquired of him myself if this story was authentic, and he said it was” (Mrs. Piozzi, ‘Johnsoniana’, p. 84). — [Moore.]]
96. — To the Hon. Augusta Leigh.
[Six Mile Bottom, Newmarket, Cambridge.]
Dorant’s, [Tuesday], April 26th, 1808.
My dear Augusta, — I regret being compelled to trouble you again, but it is necessary I should request you will inform Col. Leigh, if the P’s consent is not obtained in a few days, it will be of little service to Mr. Wallace, who is ordered to join the 17th in ten days, the Regiment is stationed in the East Indies, and, as he has already served there nine years, he is unwilling to return. I shall feel particularly obliged by Col. Leigh’s interference, as I think from his influence the Prince’s consent might be obtained. I am not much in the habit of asking favours, or pressing exertion, but, on this occasion, my wish to save Wallace must plead my excuse.
I have been introduced to Julia Byron by Trevannion at the Opera; she is pretty, but I do not admire her; there is too much Byron in her countenance, I hear she is clever, a very great defect in a woman, who becomes conceited in course; altogether I have not much inclination to improve the acquaintance.
I have seen my old friend George, who will prove the best of the family, and will one day be Lord B. I do not much care how soon.
Pray name my nephew after his uncle; it must be a nephew, (I won’t have a niece,) I will make him my heir, for I shall never marry, unless I am ruined, and then his inheritance would not be great.
George will have the title and his laurels; my property, (if any is left in five years time,) I can leave to whom I please, and your son shall be the legatee. Adieu.
Yours ever,
BYRON.
[Footnote 1: George Anson Byron, R.N. (1758-1793), second son of Admiral the Hon. John Byron, by his wife Sophia Trevanion, and brother of Byron’s father, married Henrietta Charlotte Dallas, by whom he had a son, George, who was at this time in the Royal Navy, and in 1824 succeeded as seventh Lord Byron; and a daughter, Julia Byron, who married, in 1817, the Rev. Robert Heath. Of his cousin George, Byron writes in his ‘Journal’ for November 30, 1813 (‘Life,’ p. 209):
“I like George much more than most people like their heirs. He is a fine fellow, and every inch a sailor.”
Again on December 1, 1813, he says,
“I hope he will be an admiral, and, perhaps, Lord Byron into the bargain. If he would but marry, I would engage never to marry myself, or cut him out of the heirship.”
George Anson Byron and his wife both died in 1793.]
97. — To the Rev. John Becher.
Newstead Abbey, Notts., Sept. 14, 1808.
My dear Becher, — I am much obliged to you for your inquiries, and shall profit by them accordingly. I am going to get up a play here; the hall will constitute a most admirable theatre. I have settled the ‘dram. pers.,’ and can do without ladies, as I have some young friends who will make tolerable substitutes for females, and we only want three male characters, beside Mr. Hobhouse and myself, for the play we have fixed on, which will be the ‘Revenge.’ Pray direct Nicholson the carpenter to come over to me immediately, and inform me what day you will dine and pass the night here.
Believe me, etc.
[Footnote 1: Young’s tragedy (1721), from which one of Byron’s Harrow speeches in the character of “Zanga” was taken (see page 27 [Letter 10], [Foot]note 1).]
98. — To John Jackson.
N. A., Notts., September 18, 1808.
Dear Jack, — I wish you would inform me what has been done by Jekyll, at No. 40, Sloane Square, concerning the pony I returned as unsound.
I have also to request you will call on Louch at Brompton, and inquire what the devil he meant by sending such an insolent letter to me at Brighton; and at the same time tell him I by no means can comply with the charge he has made for things pretended to be damaged.
Ambrose behaved most scandalously about the pony. You may tell Jekyll if he does not refund the money, I shall put the affair into my lawyer’s hands. Five and twenty guineas is a sound price for a pony, and by God, if it costs me five hundred pounds, I wil
l make an example of Mr. Jekyll, and that immediately, unless the cash is returned.
Believe me, dear Jack, etc.
[Footnote 1: John Jackson (1769-1845), better known as “Gentleman” Jackson, was champion of England from 1795 to 1803. His three fights were against Fewterel (1788), George Ingleston (1789), and Mendoza (1795). In his fight at Ingatestone with “George the Brewer,” he slipped on the wet stage, and, falling, dislocated his ankle and broke his leg. His fight with Mendoza at Hornchurch, Essex, was decided in nine rounds. At the end of the third round “the odds rose two to one on Mendoza.” In the fifth, Jackson “seized hold of his opponent by the hair, and served him out in that defenceless state till he fell to the ground.” The fight was practically over, and the odds at once turned in favour of Jackson, who thenceforward had matters all his own way. Even if Mendoza had worn a wig, he probably would have succumbed to Jackson, who was a more powerful man with a longer reach, and as scientific, though not so ornamental, a boxer. In 1803 Jackson retired from the ring.
“I can see him now” (‘Pugilistica,’ vol. i. 98), “as I saw him in ‘84, walking down Holborn Hill towards Smithfield. He had on a scarlet coat worked in gold at the button-holes, ruffles, and frill of fine lace, a small white stock, no collar (they were not then invented), a looped hat with a broad black band, buff knee-breeches, and long silk strings, striped white silk stockings, pumps, and paste buckles; his waistcoat was pale blue satin, sprigged with white. It was impossible to look on his fine ample chest, his noble shoulders, his waist, (if anything too small,) his large, but not too large hips, … his limbs, his balustrade calf and beautifully turned, but not over delicate ankle, his firm foot, and peculiarly small hand, without thinking that nature had sent him on earth as a model. On he went at a good five miles and a half an hour, the envy of all men, and the admiration of all women.”
His rooms at 13, Bond Street, became the head-quarters of the Pugilistic Club, with whose initials, P.C., the ropes and stakes at prize-rings were marked (see page 99 [Letter 51], [Foot]note 1; and Pierce Egan’s ‘Life in London,’ pp. 252-254). From 1803 to 1824, when he retired from the profession, he was, as Pierce Egan says of him (p. 254), unrivalled as “a teacher of the Art of ‘self-defence.’“ His character stood high. “From the highest to the lowest person in the Sporting World, his ‘decision’ is law.”
“This gentleman,” says Moore, in a note to ‘Tom Crib’s Memorial to Congress’ (p. 13), “as he well deserves to be called, from the correctness of his conduct and the peculiar urbanity of his manners, forms that useful link between the amateurs and the professors of pugilism, which, when broken, it will be difficult, if not wholly impossible, to replace.”
He was Byron’s guest at Cambridge, Newstead, and Brighton; received from him many letters; and is described by him, in a note to ‘Don Juan’ (Canto XI. stanza xix.), as “my old friend and corporeal pastor and master.” Jackson’s monument in Brompton Cemetery, a couchant lion and a mourning athlete, was subscribed for “by several noblemen and gentlemen, to record their admiration of one whose excellence of heart and incorruptible worth endeared him to all who knew him.”]
99. — To John Jackson.
N. A., Notts., October 4, 1808.
You will make as good a bargain as possible with this Master Jekyll, if he is not a gentleman. If he is a gentleman, inform me, for I shall take very different steps. If he is not, you must get what you can of the money, for I have too much business on hand at present to commence an action. Besides, Ambrose is the man who ought to refund, — but I have done with him. You can settle with L. out of the balance, and dispose of the bidets, etc., as you best can.
I should be very glad to see you here; but the house is filled with workmen, and undergoing a thorough repair. I hope, however, to be more fortunate before many months have elapsed.
If you see Bold Webster, remember me to him, and tell him I have to regret Sydney, who has perished, I fear, in my rabbit warren, for we have seen nothing of him for the last fortnight. Adieu.
Believe me, etc.
[Footnote 1: Sir Godfrey Vassal Webster (1788-1836).]
[Footnote 2: A third letter to Jackson, written from Newstead, December 12, 1808, runs as follows: —
“My Dear Jack, — You will get the greyhound from the owner at any price, and as many more of the same breed (male or female) as you can collect.
“Tell D’Egville his dress shall be returned — I am obliged to him for the pattern. I am sorry you should have so much trouble, but I was not aware of the difficulty of procuring the animals in question. I shall have finished part of my mansion in a few weeks, and, if you can pay me a visit at Christmas, I shall be very glad to see you.
Believe me, etc.”
In a bill, for 1808, sent in to Byron by Messrs. Finn and Johnson, tailors, of Nottingham, appears the following item: “Masquerade Jackett with belt and rich Turban, £11:9:6.” This is probably the dress made from d’Egville’s pattern.
James d’Egville learned dancing from Gaetano Vestris, well known at the Court of Frederick the Great, and from Gardel, the Court teacher of Marie Antoinette. He, his brother Louis, and his sister Madame Michau, were the most famous teachers of the day in England. The real name of the family was Hervey; that of d’Egville was assumed for professional purposes. James d’Egville enjoyed a great reputation, both as an actor and a dancer, in Paris and London. He was Acting-Manager and Director of the King’s Theatre (October, 1807, to January, 1808), but was dismissed, owing to a disagreement between the managers, in the course of which he was accused of French proclivities and republican principles (see Waters’s ‘Opera-Glass’, pp. 133-145). A man of taste and cultivation, he produced some musical extravaganzas and ballets; ‘e.g. Don Quichotte ou les Noces de Gamache, L’Elèvement d’Adonis, The Rape of Dejanira’, etc.
A coloured print, in the possession of his great-nephew, Mr. Louis d’Egville, represents him, with Deshayes, in one of his most successful appearances, the ballet-pantomime of ‘Achille et Deidamie’. He was an enthusiastic sportsman.]
100. — To his Mother.
Newstead Abbey, Notts, October 7, 1808.
Dear Madam, — I have no beds for the Hansons or any body else at present. The Hansons sleep at Mansfield. I do not know that I resemble Jean Jacques Rousseau. I have no ambition to be like so illustrious a madman — but this I know, that I shall live in my own manner, and as much alone as possible. When my rooms are ready I shall be glad to see you: at present it would be improper, and uncomfortable to both parties. You can hardly object to my rendering my mansion habitable, notwithstanding my departure for Persia in March (or May at farthest), since you will be tenant till my return; and in case of any accident (for I have already arranged my will to be drawn up the moment I am twenty-one), I have taken care you shall have the house and manor for life, besides a sufficient income. So you see my improvements are not entirely selfish. As I have a friend here, we will go to the Infirmary Ball on the 12th; we will drink tea with Mrs. Byron at eight o’clock, and expect to see you at the ball. If that lady will allow us a couple of rooms to dress in, we shall be highly obliged: — if we are at the ball by ten or eleven, it will be time enough, and we shall return to Newstead about three or four. Adieu.
Believe me, yours very truly,
BYRON.
[Footnote 1: In Byron’s ‘Detached Thoughts’, quoted by Moore (‘Life’, p. 72), he thus refers to the comparison with Rousseau: —
“My mother, before I was twenty, would have it that I was like Rousseau, and Madame de Stael used to say so too in 1813, and the ‘Edinburgh Review’ has something of the sort in its critique on the fourth canto of ‘Childe Harold’. I can’t see any point of resemblance: — he wrote prose, I verse: he was of the people; I of the aristocracy: he was a philosopher; I am none: he published his first work at forty; I mine at eighteen: his first essay brought him universal applause; mine the contrary: he married his housekeeper; I could not keep house w
ith my wife: he thought all the world in a plot against him; my little world seems to think me in a plot against it, if I may judge by their abuse in print and coterie: he liked botany; I like flowers, herbs, and trees, but know nothing of their pedigrees: he wrote music; I limit my knowledge of it to what I catch by ear — I never could learn any thing by study, not even a language — it was all by rote and ear, and memory: he had a bad memory; I had, at least, an excellent one (ask Hodgson the poet — a good judge, for he has an astonishing one): he wrote with hesitation and care; I with rapidity, and rarely with pains: he could never ride, nor swim, nor ‘was cunning of fence;’ I am an excellent swimmer, a decent, though not at all a dashing, rider, (having staved in a rib at eighteen, in the course of scampering,) and was sufficient of fence, particularly of the Highland broadsword, — not a bad boxer, when I could keep my temper, which was difficult, but which I strove to do ever since I knocked down Mr. Purling, and put his knee-pan out (with the gloves on), in Angelo’s and Jackson’s rooms in 1806, during the sparring, — and I was, besides, a very fair cricketer, — one of the Harrow eleven, when we played against Eton in 1805. Besides, Rousseau’s way of life, his country, his manners, his whole character, were so very different, that I am at a loss to conceive how such a comparison could have arisen, as it has done three several times, and all in rather a remarkable manner. I forgot to say that he was also short-sighted, and that hitherto my eyes have been the contrary, to such a degree that, in the largest theatre of Bologna, I distinguished and read some busts and inscriptions, painted near the stage, from a box so distant and so darkly lighted, that none of the company (composed of young and very bright-eyed people, some of them in the same box,) could make out a letter, and thought it was a trick, though I had never been in that theatre before.