by Lord Byron
Byron.
220 — to Thomas Moore
January 29, 1812.
My Dear Moore, — I wish very much I could have seen you; I am in a state of ludicrous tribulation. — —
Why do you say that I dislike your poesy? I have expressed no such opinion, either in print or elsewhere. In scribbling myself, it was necessary for me to find fault, and I fixed upon the trite charge of immorality, because I could discover no other, and was so perfectly qualified in the innocence of my heart, to “pluck that mote from my neighbour’s eye.”
I feel very, very much obliged by your approbation; but, at this moment, praise, even your praise, passes by me like “the idle wind.” I meant and mean to send you a copy the moment of publication; but now I can think of nothing but damned, deceitful, — delightful woman, as Mr. Liston says in the Knight of Snowdon?
Believe me, my dear Moore,
Ever yours, most affectionately, Byron.
“Having compared Rogers’s poems to a flower-garden, to what shall I compare Moore’s? — to the Valley of Diamonds, where all is brilliant and attractive, but where one is so dazzled by the sparkling on every side that one knows not where to fix, each gem beautiful in itself, but overpowering to the eye from their quantity.”
“Oh, woman! woman! deceitful, damnable, (changing into a half-smile) delightful woman! do all one can, there’s nothing else worth thinking of.”
221 — to Francis Hodgson
8, St. James’s Street, Feb. 1, 1812.
My Dear Hodgson, — I am rather unwell with a vile cold, caught in the House of Lords last night. Lord Sligo and myself, being tired, paired off, being of opposite sides, so that nothing was gained or lost by our votes. I did not speak: but I might as well, for nothing could have been inferior to the Duke of Devonshire, Marquis of Downshire, and the Earl of Fitzwilliam. The Catholic Question comes on this month, and perhaps I may then commence. I must “screw my courage to the sticking-place,” and we’ll not fail.
Yours ever, B.
222 — to Samuel Rogers
February 4, 1812.
My Dear Sir, — With my best acknowledgments to Lord Holland, I have to offer my perfect concurrence in the propriety of the question previously to be put to ministers. If their answer is in the negative, I shall, with his Lordship’s approbation, give notice of a motion for a Committee of Inquiry. I would also gladly avail myself of his most able advice, and any information or documents with which he might be pleased to intrust me, to bear me out in the statement of facts it may be necessary to submit to the House.
From all that fell under my own observation during my Christmas visit to Newstead, I feel convinced that, if conciliatory measures are not very soon adopted, the most unhappy consequences may be apprehended.
Nightly outrage and daily depredation are already at their height; and not only the masters of frames, who are obnoxious on account of their occupation, but persons in no degree connected with the malecontents or their oppressors, are liable to insult and pillage.
I am very much obliged to you for the trouble you have taken on my account, and beg you to believe me,
Ever your obliged and sincere, etc.
rendered the offence of frame-breaking punishable by death; and
compelled persons in whose houses the frames were broken to give information to the magistrates
. On the second reading of the Bill (February 27, 1812), Byron spoke against it in his first speech in the House of Lords (see ). The Bill passed its third reading on March 5, and became law as 52 Geo. III. c. 16. Byron did not confine his opposition to a speech in the House of Lords. He also addressed “An Ode to the Framers of the Frame Bill,” which appeared in the Morning Chronicle on Monday, March 2, 1812. The following letter to Perry, the editor, is published by permission of Messrs. Ellis and Elvey, in whose possession is the original:
“Sir, — I take the liberty of sending an alteration of the two last lines of Stanza 2’d which I wish to run as follows,
‘Gibbets on Sherwood will heighten the Scenery
Shewing how Commerce, how Liberty thrives!’
I wish you could insert it tomorrow for a particular reason; but I feel much obliged by your inserting it at all. Of course, do not put my name to the thing.
Believe me, Your obliged and very obed’t Serv’t,
Byron. 8, St. James Street, Sunday,
March 1st, 1812.”
223 — To Master John Cowell
8, St. James’s Street, February 12, 1812.
My Dear John, — You have probably long ago forgotten the writer of these lines, who would, perhaps, be unable to recognize yourself, from the difference which must naturally have taken place in your stature and appearance since he saw you last. I have been rambling through Portugal, Spain, Greece, etc., etc., for some years, and have found so many changes on my return, that it would be very unfair not to expect that you should have had your share of alteration and improvement with the rest. I write to request a favour of you: a little boy of eleven years, the son of Mr. — — , my particular friend, is about to become an Etonian, and I should esteem any act of protection or kindness to him as an obligation to myself: let me beg of you then to take some little notice of him at first, till he is able to shift for himself.
I was happy to hear a very favourable account of you from a schoolfellow a few weeks ago, and should be glad to learn that your family are as well as I wish them to be. I presume you are in the upper school; — as an Etonian, you will look down upon a Harrow man; but I never, even in my boyish days, disputed your superiority, which I once experienced in a cricket match, where I had the honour of making one of eleven, who were beaten to their hearts’ content by your college in one innings.
Believe me to be, with great truth, etc., etc.,
B.
“Breakfasted with Mr. Cowell,” writes Moore, in his Diary, June 11, 1828, “having made his acquaintance for the purpose of gaining information about Lord Byron. Knew Byron for the first time when he himself was a little boy, from being in the habit of playing with B.’s dogs. Byron wrote to him to school to bid him mind his prosody. Gave me two or three of his letters to him. Saw a good deal of B. at Hastings; mentioned the anecdote about the ink-bottle striking one of the lead Muses. These Muses had been brought from Holland; and there were, I think, only eight of them arrived safe. Fletcher had brought B. a large jar of ink, and, not thinking it was full, B. had thrust his pen down to the very bottom; his anger at finding it come out all besmeared with ink made him chuck the jar out of the window, when it knocked down one of the Muses in the garden, and deluged her with ink. In 1813, when B. was at Salt Hill, he had Cowell over from Eton, and pouched him no less than ten pounds. Cowell has ever since kept one of the notes. Told me a curious anecdote of Byron’s mentioning to him, as if it had made a great impression on him, their seeing Shelley (as they thought) walking into a little wood at Lerici, when it was discovered afterwards that Shelley was at that time in quite another direction. ‘This,’ said Byron, in a sort of awe-struck voice, ‘was about ten days before his death.’ Cowell’s imitation of his look and manner very striking. Thinks that in Byron’s speech to Fletcher, when he was dying, threatening to appear to him, there was a touch of that humour and fun which he was accustomed to mix up with everything”.
(Memoirs, Journals, etc., vol. v. pp. 302, 303).
224 — to Francis Hodgson
8, St. James’s Street, February 16, 1812.
Dear Hodgson, — I send you a proof. Last week I was very ill and confined to bed with stone in the kidney, but I am now quite recovered. The women are gone to their relatives, after many attempts to explain what was already too clear. If the stone had got into my heart instead of my kidneys, it would have been all the better. However, I have quite recovered that also, and only wonder at my folly in excepting my own strumpets from the general corruption, — albeit a two months’ weakness is better than ten years. I have one
request to make, which is, never mention a woman again in any letter to me, or even allude to the existence of the sex. I won’t even read a word of the feminine gender; — it must all be propria quæ maribus.
In the spring of 1813 I shall leave England for ever. Every thing in my affairs tends to this, and my inclinations and health do not discourage it. Neither my habits nor constitution are improved by your customs or your climate. I shall find employment in making myself a good Oriental scholar. I shall retain a mansion in one of the fairest islands, and retrace, at intervals, the most interesting portions of the East. In the mean time, I am adjusting my concerns, which will (when arranged) leave me with wealth sufficient even for home, but enough for a principality in Turkey. At present they are involved, but I hope, by taking some necessary but unpleasant steps, to clear every thing. Hobhouse is expected daily in London: we shall be very glad to see him; and, perhaps, you will come up and “drink deep ere he depart,” if not, “Mahomet must go to the mountain;” — but Cambridge will bring sad recollections to him, and worse to me, though for very different reasons. I believe the only human being, that ever loved me in truth and entirely, was of, or belonging to, Cambridge, and, in that, no change can now take place. There is one consolation in death — where he sets his seal, the impression can neither be melted nor broken, but endureth for ever.
Yours always,
B.
P.S. — I almost rejoice when one I love dies young, for I could never bear to see them old or altered.
“Mahomet made the people believe that he would call a hill to him, and from the top of it offer up his prayers for the observers of his law. The people assembled; Mahomet called the hill to come to him, again and again; and when the hill stood still, he was never a whit abashed, but said, ‘If the hill will not come to Mahomet, Mahomet will go to the hill.’“
225 — to Francis Hodgson
London, February 21, 1812.
My Dear Hodgson, — There is a book entituled Galt, his Travels in ye Archipelago, daintily printed by Cadell and Davies, ye which I could desiderate might be criticised by you, inasmuch as ye author is a well-respected esquire of mine acquaintance, but I fear will meet with little mercy as a writer, unless a friend passeth judgment. Truth to say, ye boke is ye boke of a cock-brained man, and is full of devises crude and conceitede, but peradventure for my sake this grace may be vouchsafed unto him. Review him myself I can not, will not, and if you are likewize hard of heart, woe unto ye boke! ye which is a comely quarto.
Now then! I have no objection to review, if it pleases Griffiths to send books, or rather you, for you know the sort of things I like to [play] with. You will find what I say very serious as to my intentions. I have every reason to induce me to return to Ionia.
Believe me, yours always,
B.
“praised the Annals of the Parish very highly, as also The Entail,... some scenes of which, he said, had affected him very much.
‘The characters in Mr. Galt’s novels have an identity,’ added Byron, ‘that reminds me of Wilkie’s pictures’“
(Lady Blessington’s Conversations with Lord Byron, p. 74).
“When I knew Galt, years ago,” said Byron to Lady Blessington, I was not in a frame of mind to form an impartial opinion of him: his mildness and equanimity struck me even then; but, to say the truth, his manner had not deference enough for my then aristocratical taste, and finding I could not awe him into a respect sufficiently profound for my sublime self, either as a peer or an author, I felt a little grudge towards him that has now completely worn off,” etc., etc.
(ibid., p. 249).
“I have already read a review of Safie in the British Critic, and will undertake it in the Monthly if Griffiths, with whom I am in very bad odour from my late shameful idleness, will allow me. Oh that you would write a good smart critique of something to get both yourself and me in high repute at Turnham Green!!!!”
In Byron’s Detached Thoughts occurs the following passage:
“I have been a reviewer. In the Monthly Review I wrote some articles which were inserted. This was in the latter part of 1811. In 1807, in a Magazine called Monthly Literary Recreations, I reviewed Wordsworth’s trash of that time.
Excepting these, I cannot accuse myself of anonymous Criticism (that I recollect), though I have been offered more than one review in our principal Journals.”
In the Bodleian Library is a copy of the Monthly Review, in which Griffiths has entered the initials of the authors of each article. Two articles from the Review, attributed to Byron on this authority, are given in .
226 — to Lord Holland
8, St. James’s Street, February 25, 1812.
My Lord, — With my best thanks, I have the honour to return the Notts. letter to your Lordship. I have read it with attention, but do not think I shall venture to avail myself of its contents, as my view of the question differs in some measure from Mr. Coldham’s. I hope I do not wrong him, but his objections to the bill appear to me to be founded on certain apprehensions that he and his coadjutors might be mistaken for the “original advisers” (to quote him) of the measure. For my own part, I consider the manufacturers as a much injured body of men, sacrificed to the views of certain individuals who have enriched themselves by those practices which have deprived the frame-workers of employment. For instance; — by the adoption of a certain kind of frame, one man performs the work of seven — six are thus thrown out of business. But it is to be observed that the work thus done is far inferior in quality, hardly marketable at home, and hurried over with a view to exportation. Surely, my Lord, however we may rejoice in any improvement in the arts which may be beneficial to mankind, we must not allow mankind to be sacrificed to improvements in mechanism. The maintenance and well-doing of the industrious poor is an object of greater consequence to the community than the enrichment of a few monopolists by any improvement in the implements of trade, which deprives the workman of his bread, and renders the labourer “unworthy of his hire.”
My own motive for opposing the bill is founded on its palpable injustice, and its certain inefficacy. I have seen the state of these miserable men, and it is a disgrace to a civilized country. Their excesses may be condemned, but cannot be subject of wonder. The effect of the present bill would be to drive them into actual rebellion. The few words I shall venture to offer on Thursday will be founded upon these opinions formed from my own observations on the spot. By previous inquiry, I am convinced these men would have been restored to employment, and the county to tranquillity. It is, perhaps, not yet too late, and is surely worth the trial. It can never be too late to employ force in such circumstances. I believe your Lordship does not coincide with me entirely on this subject, and most cheerfully and sincerely shall I submit to your superior judgment and experience, and take some other line of argument against the bill, or be silent altogether, should you deem it more advisable. Condemning, as every one must condemn, the conduct of these wretches, I believe in the existence of grievances which call rather for pity than punishment. I have the honour to be, with great respect, my Lord, your Lordship’s
Most obedient and obliged servant,
Byron.
P.S. — I am a little apprehensive that your Lordship will think me too lenient towards these men, and half a frame-breaker myself.
227 — to Francis Hodgson
8, St. James’s Street, March 5, 1812.
My Dear Hodgson, — We are not answerable for reports of speeches in the papers; they are always given incorrectly, and on this occasion more so than usual, from the debate in the Commons on the same night. The Morning Post should have said eighteen years. However, you will find the speech, as spoken, in the Parliamentary Register, when it comes out. Lords Holland and Grenville, particularly the latter, paid me some high compliments in the course of their speeches, as you may have seen in the papers, and Lords Eldon and Harrowby answered me. I have had many marvellous eulogies repeated to me since, in person and
by proxy, from divers persons ministerial — yea, ministerial! — as well as oppositionists; of them I shall only mention Sir F. Burdett. He says it is the best speech by a lord since the “Lord knows when,” probably from a fellow-feeling in the sentiments. Lord H. tells me I shall beat them all if I persevere; and Lord G. remarked that the construction of some of my periods are very like Burke’s!! And so much for vanity. I spoke very violent sentences with a sort of modest impudence, abused every thing and every body, and put the Lord Chancellor very much out of humour: and if I may believe what I hear, have not lost any character by the experiment. As to my delivery, loud and fluent enough, perhaps a little theatrical. I could not recognize myself or any one else in the newspapers.
I hire myself unto Griffiths, and my poesy comes out on Saturday. Hobhouse is here; I shall tell him to write. My stone is gone for the present, but I fear is part of my habit. We all talk of a visit to Cambridge.
Yours ever,
B.
“There never was a maxim of greater wisdom than that uttered by the noble lord [Byron] who had so ably addressed their lordships that night for the first time”
(Hansard, vol. xxi. p. 977). Moore quotes a passage from Byron’s Detached Thoughts:
“Sheridan’s liking for me (whether he was not mystifying me I do not know, but Lady Caroline Lamb and others told me that he said the same both before and after he knew me) was founded upon English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers. He told me that he did not care about poetry (or about mine — at least, any but that poem of mine), but he was sure, from that and other symptoms, I should make an orator, if I would but take to speaking, and grow a parliament man. He never ceased harping upon this to me to the last; and I remember my old tutor, Dr. Drury, had the same notion when I was a boy; but it never was my turn of inclination to try. I spoke once or twice, as all young peers do, as a kind of introduction into public life; but dissipation, shyness, haughty and reserved opinions, together with the short time I lived in England after my majority (only about five years in all), prevented me from resuming the experiment. As far as it went, it was not discouraging, particularly my first speech (I spoke three or four times in all); but just after it, my poem of Childe Harold was published, and nobody ever thought about my prose afterwards, nor indeed did I; it became to me a secondary and neglected object, though I sometimes wonder to myself if I should have succeeded.”