by Lord Byron
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.”
I 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.
“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).
“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).
374 — to John Galt
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.
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.”
375 — to John Murray
Decr. y’r 14th, 1813.
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.
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 do, 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
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 aban
don 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.
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.”
377 — to Professor Clarke
Dec. 15, 1813.
Your very kind letter is the more agreeable, because, setting aside talents, judgment, and the laudari a laudato, etc., you have been on the spot; you have seen and described more of the East than any of your predecessors — I need not say how ably and successfully; and (excuse the bathos) you are one of the very few men who can pronounce how far my costume (to use an affected but expressive word) is correct. As to poesy, that is, as “men, gods, and columns,” please to decide upon it; but I am sure that I am anxious to have an observer’s, particularly a famous observer’s, testimony on the fidelity of my manners and dresses; and, as far as memory and an oriental twist in my imagination have permitted, it has been my endeavour to present to the Franks, a sketch of that of which you have and will present them a complete picture. It was with this notion, that I felt compelled to make my hero and heroine relatives, as you well know that none else could there obtain that degree of intercourse leading to genuine affection; I had nearly made them rather too much akin to each other; and though the wild passions of the East, and some great examples in Alfieri, Ford, and Schiller (to stop short of antiquity), might have pleaded in favour of a copyist, yet the time and the north (not Frederic, but our climate) induced me to alter their consanguinity and confine them to cousinship. I also wished to try my hand on a female character in Zuleika, and have endeavoured, as far as the grossness of our masculine ideas will allow, to preserve her purity without impairing the ardour of her attachment.
As to criticism, I have been reviewed about a hundred and fifty times — praised and abused. I will not say that I am become indifferent to either eulogy or condemnation, but for some years at least I have felt grateful for the former, and have never attempted to answer the latter. For success equal to the first efforts, I had and have no hope; the novelty was over, and the “Bride,” like all other brides, must suffer or rejoice for and with her husband. By the bye, I have used “bride” Turkishly, as affianced, not married; and so far it is an English bull, which, I trust, will be at least a comfort to all Hibernians not bigotted to monopoly. You are good enough to mention your quotations in your third volume. I shall not only be indebted to it for a renewal of the high gratification received from the two first, but for preserving my relics embalmed in your own spices, and ensuring me readers to whom I could not otherwise have aspired.
I called on you, as bounden by duty and inclination, when last in your neighbourhood; but I shall always take my chance; you surely would not have me inflict upon you a formal annunciation; I am proud of your friendship, but not so fond of myself as to break in upon your better avocations. I trust that Mrs. Clarke is well; I have never had the honour of presentation, but I have heard so much of her in many quarters, that any notice she is pleased to take of my productions is not less gratifying than my thanks are sincere, both to her and you; by all accounts I may safely congratulate you on the possession of “a bride” whose mental and personal accomplishments are more than poetical.
P. S. — Murray has sent, or will send, a double copy of the Bride and Giaour; in the last one, some lengthy additions; pray accept them, according to old custom, “from the author” to one of his better brethren. Your Persian, or any memorial, will be a most agreeable, and it is my fault if not an useful present. I trust your third will be out before I sail next month; can I say or do anything for you in the Levant? I am now in all the agonies of equipment, and full of schemes, some impracticable, and most of them improbable; but I mean to fly “freely to the green earth’s end,” though not quite so fast as Milton´s sprite.
P. S. 2nd. — I have so many things to say. — I want to show you Lord Sligo’s letter to me detailing, as he heard them on the spot, the Athenian account of our adventure (a personal one), which certainly first suggested to me the story of The Giaour. It was a strange and not a very long story, and his report of the reports (he arrived just after my departure, and I did not know till last summer that he knew anything of the matter) is not very far from the truth. Don’t be alarmed. There was nothing that led further than to the water’s edge; but one part (as is often the case in life) was more singular than any of the Giaour’s adventures. I never have, and never should have, alluded to it on my own authority, from respect to the ancient proverb on Travellers.
“I open my letter to say that when Lord Byron went to give his vote just now in the Senate House, the young men burst out into the most rapturous applause.”
The next day he writes again:
“I should add that as I was going to vote I met him coming away, and presently saw that something had happened, by his extreme paleness and agitation. Dr. Clark, who was with him, told me the cause, and I returned with B. to my room. There I begged him to sit down and write a letter and communicate this event, which he did not feel up to, but wished I would. So down I sate, and commenced my acquaintance with Miss Milbanke by writing her an account of this most pleasing event, which, although nothing at Oxford, is here very unusual indeed.”
The following was Miss Milbanke’s answer (ibid., pp. 296, 297), dated, “Seaham, November 25, 1814:”
“Dear Sir, — It will be easier for you to imagine than for me to express the pleasure which your very kind letter has given me. Not only on account of its gratifying intelligence, but also as introductory to an acquaintance which I have been taught to value, and have sincerely desired. Allow me to consider Lord Byron’s friend as not ‘a stranger,’ and accept, with my sincerest thanks, my best wishes for your own happiness.
I am, dear sir, your faithful servant,
A. I. MlLBANKE.”
“I can fly, or I can run
Quickly to the green earth´s end.”
378 — to Leigh Hunt
Dec. 22, 1813.
My Dear Sir, — I am indeed “in your debt,” — and, what is still worse, am obliged to f
ollow royal example (he has just apprised his creditors that they must wait till the next meeting), and intreat your indulgence for, I hope, a very short time. The nearest relation and almost the only friend I possess, has been in London for a week, and leaves it tomorrow with me for her own residence. I return immediately; but we meet so seldom, and are so minuted when we meet at all, that I give up all engagements till now, without reluctance. On my return, I must see you to console myself for my past disappointment. I should feel highly honoured in Mr. B.’s permission to make his acquaintance, and there you are in my debt; for it is a promise of last summer which I still hope to see performed. Yesterday I had a letter from Moore; you have probably heard from him lately; but if not, you will be glad to learn that he is the same in heart, head, and health.
379 — to John Murray
December 27, 1813.
Lord Holland is laid up with the gout, and would feel very much obliged if you could obtain, and send as soon as possible, Madame D’Arblay’s (or even Miss Edgeworth’s) new work. I know they are not out; but it is perhaps possible for your Majesty to command what we cannot with much suing purchase, as yet. I need not say that when you are able or willing to confer the same favour on me, I shall be obliged. I would almost fall sick myself to get at Madame D’Arblay’s writings.
P. S. — You were talking to-day of the American E’n of a certain unquenchable memorial of my younger days. As it can’t be helped now, I own I have some curiosity to see a copy of transatlantic typography. This you will perhaps obtain, and one for yourself; but I must beg that you will not import more, because, seriously, I do wish to have that thing forgotten as much as it has been forgiven.