Life of Lord Byron Volume V Part 35

"Since I came here, I have been invited by the Americans on board their squadron, where I was received with all the kindness which I could wish, and with _more ceremony_ than I am fond of. I found them finer ships than your own of the same cla.s.s, well manned and officered. A number of American gentlemen also were on board at the time, and some ladies. As I was taking leave, an American lady asked me for a _rose_ which I wore, for the purpose, she said, of sending to America something which I had about me, as a memorial. I need not add that I felt the compliment properly. Captain Chauncey showed me an American and very pretty edition of my poems, and offered me a pa.s.sage to the United States, if I would go there.

Commodore Jones was also not less kind and attentive. I have since received the enclosed letter, desiring me to sit for my picture for some Americans. It is singular that, in the same year that Lady Noel leaves by will an interdiction for my daughter to see her father's portrait for many years, the individuals of a nation, not remarkable for their liking to the English in particular, nor for flattering men in general, request me to sit for my 'pourtraicture,' as Baron Bradwardine calls it. I am also told of considerable literary honours in Germany. Goethe, I am told, is my professed patron and protector. At Leipsic, this year, the highest prize was proposed for a translation of two cantos of Childe Harold. I am not sure that this was at _Leipsic_, but Mr. Rowcroft was my authority--a good German scholar (a young American), and an acquaintance of Goethe's.

"Goethe and the Germans are particularly fond of Don Juan, which they judge of as a work of art. I had heard something of this before through Baron Lutzerode. The translations have been very frequent of several of the works, and Goethe made a comparison between Faust and Manfred.

"All this is some compensation for your English native brutality, so fully displayed this year to its highest extent.

"I forgot to mention a little anecdote of a different kind. I went over the Const.i.tution (the Commodore's flag-ship), and saw, among other things worthy of remark, a little boy _born_ on board of her by a sailor's wife. They had christened him 'Const.i.tution Jones.'

I, of course, approved the name; and the woman added, 'Ah, sir, if he turns out but half as good as his name!'

"Yours ever," &c.

[Footnote 80: A hill, three or four miles from Leghorn, much resorted to, as a place of residence during the summer months.]

LETTER. 495. TO MR. MURRAY.

"Montenero, near Leghorn, May 29. 1822.

"I return you the proofs revised. Your printer has made one odd mistake:--'poor as a _mouse_,' instead of 'poor as a _miser_.' The expression may seem strange, but it is only a translation of 'semper avarus eget.' You will add the Mystery, and publish as soon as you can. I care nothing for your 'season,' nor the _blue_ approbations or disapprobations. All that is to be considered by you on the subject is as a matter of _business_; and if I square that to your notions (even to the running the risk entirely myself), you may permit me to choose my own time and mode of publication. With regard to the late volume, the present run against _it_ or _me_ may impede it for a time, but it has the vital principle of permanency within it, as you may perhaps one day discover. I wrote to you on another subject a few days ago.

Yours, N.B.

"P.S. Please to send me the Dedication of Sardanapalus to Goethe. I shall prefix it to Werner, unless you prefer my putting another, stating that the former had been omitted by the publisher.

"On the t.i.tle-page of the present volume, put 'Published for the Author by J.M.'"

LETTER 496. TO MR. MURRAY.

"Montenero, Leghorn, June 6. 1822.

"I return you the revise of Werner, and expect the rest. With regard to the Lines to the Po, perhaps you had better put them quietly in a second edition (if you reach one, that is to say) than in the first; because, though they have been reckoned fine, and I wish them to be preserved, I do not wish them to attract IMMEDIATE observation, on account of the relationship of the lady to whom they are addressed with the first families in Romagna and the Marches.

"The defender of 'Cain' may or may not be, as you term him, 'a tyro in literature:' however I think both you and I are under great obligation to him. I have read the Edinburgh review in Galignani's Magazine, and have not yet decided whether to answer them or not; for, if I do, it will be difficult for me not 'to make sport for the Philistines' by pulling down a house or two; since, when I once take pen in hand, I _must_ say what comes uppermost, or fling it away. I have not the hypocrisy to pretend impartiality, nor the temper (as it is called) to keep always from saying what may not be pleasing to the hearer or reader. What do they mean by '_elaborate_?' Why, _you_ know that they were written as fast as I could put pen to paper, and printed from the _original_ MSS., and never revised but in the proofs: _look_ at the _dates_ and the MSS.

themselves. Whatever faults they have must spring from carelessness, and not from labour. They said the same of 'Lara,'

which I wrote while undressing after coming home from b.a.l.l.s and masquerades, in the year of revelry 1814. Yours."

"June 8. 1822.

"You give me no explanation of your intention as to the 'Vision of Quevedo Redivivus,' one of my best things: indeed, you are altogether so abstruse and undecided lately, that I suppose you mean me to write 'John Murray, Esq., a Mystery,'--a composition which would not displease the clergy nor the trade. I by no means wish you to do what you don't like, but merely to say what you will do. The Vision _must_ be published by some one. As to 'clamours,'

the die is cast: and 'come one, come all,' we will fight it out--at least one of us."

LETTER 497. TO MR. MOORE.

"Montenero, Villa Dupoy, near Leghorn, June 8. 1822.

"I have written to you twice through the medium of Murray, and on one subject, _trite_ enough,--the loss of poor little Allegra by a fever; on which topic I shall say no more--there is nothing but time.

"A few days ago, my earliest and dearest friend, Lord Clare, came over from Geneva on purpose to see me before he returned to England. As I have always loved him (since I was thirteen, at Harrow,) better than any (_male_) thing in the world, I need hardly say what a melancholy pleasure it was to see him for a _day_ only; for he was obliged to resume his journey immediately. * * * Do you recollect, in the year of revelry 1814, the pleasantest parties and b.a.l.l.s all over London? and not the least so at * *'s. Do you recollect your singing duets with Lady * *, and my flirtation with Lady * *, and all the other fooleries of the time? while * * was sighing, and Lady * * ogling him with her clear hazel eyes. _But_ eight years have pa.s.sed, and, since that time, * * has * * * * *

*;--has run away with * * * * *; and _mysen_ (as my Nottinghamshire friends call themselves) might as well have thrown myself out of the window while you were singing, as intermarried where I did. You and * * * * have come off the best of us. I speak merely of my marriage, and its consequences, distresses, and calumnies; for I have been much more happy, on the whole, _since_, than I ever could have been with * *.

"I have read the recent article of Jeffrey in a faithful transcription of the impartial Galignani. I suppose the long and short of it is, that he wishes to provoke me to reply. But I won't, for I owe him a good turn still for his kindness by-gone. Indeed, I presume that the present opportunity of attacking me again was irresistible; and I can't blame him, knowing what human nature is.

I shall make but one remark:--what does he mean by elaborate? The whole volume was written with the greatest rapidity, in the midst of evolutions, and revolutions, and persecutions, and proscriptions of all who interested me in Italy. They said the same of 'Lara,'

which, _you_ know, was written amidst b.a.l.l.s and fooleries, and after coming home from masquerades and routs, in the summer of the sovereigns. Of all I have ever written, they are perhaps the most carelessly composed; and their faults, whatever they may be, are those of negligence, and not of labour. I do not think this a merit, but it is a fact.

"Yours ever and truly, N.B.

"P.S. You see the great advantage of my new signature;--it may either stand for 'Nota Bene' or 'Noel Byron,' and, as such, will save much repet.i.tion, in writing either books or letters. Since I came here, I have been invited on board of the American squadron, and treated with all possible honour and ceremony. They have asked me to sit for my picture; and, as I was going away, an American lady took a rose from me (which had been given to me by a very pretty Italian lady that very morning), because, she said, 'She was determined to send or take something which I had about me to America.' _There_ is a kind of Lalla Rookh incident for you!

However, all these American honours arise, perhaps, not so much from their enthusiasm for my 'Poeshie,' as their belief in my dislike to the English,--in which I have the satisfaction to coincide with them. I would rather, however, have a nod from an American, than a snuff-box from an emperor."

LETTER 498. TO MR. ELLICE.

"Montenero, Leghorn, June 12. 1822.

"My dear Ellice,

"It is a long time since I have written to you, but I have not forgotten your kindness, and I am now going to tax it--I hope not too highly--but _don't_ be alarmed, it is _not_ a loan, but _information_ which I am about to solicit. By your extensive connections, no one can have better opportunities of hearing the real state of _South_ America--I mean Bolivar's country. I have many years had transatlantic projects of settlement, and what I could wish from you would be some information of the best course to pursue, and some letters of recommendation in case I should sail for Angostura. I am told that land is very cheap there; but though I have no great disposable funds to vest in such purchases, yet my income, such as it is, would be sufficient in any country (except England) for all the comforts of life, and for most of its luxuries. The war there is now over, and as I do not go there to _speculate_, but to settle, without any views but those of independence and the enjoyment of the common civil rights, I should presume such an arrival would not be unwelcome.

"All I request of you is, not to _dis_courage nor _en_courage, but to give me such a statement as you think prudent and proper. I do not address my other friends upon this subject, who would only throw obstacles in my way, and bore me to return to England; which I never will do, unless compelled by some insuperable cause. I have a quant.i.ty of furniture, books, &c. &c. &c. which I could easily ship from Leghorn; but I wish to 'look before I leap' over the Atlantic. Is it true that for a few thousand dollars a large tract of land may be obtained? I speak of _South_ America, recollect. I have read some publications on the subject, but they seemed violent and vulgar party productions. Please to address your answer[81] to me at this place, and believe me ever and truly yours," &c.

[Footnote 81: The answer which Mr. Ellice returned was, as might be expected, strongly dissuasive of this design. The wholly disorganised state of the country and its inst.i.tutions, which it would take ages, perhaps, to restore even to the degree of industry and prosperity which it had enjoyed under the Spaniards, rendered Columbia, in his opinion, one of the last places in the world to which a man desirous of peace and quiet, or of security for his person and property, should resort to as an asylum. As long as Bolivar lived and maintained his authority, every reliance, Mr. Ellice added, might be placed on his integrity and firmness; but with his death a new aera of struggle and confusion would be sure to arise.]

About this time he sat for his picture to Mr. West, an American artist, who has himself given, in one of our periodical publications, the following account of his n.o.ble sitter:--

"On the day appointed, I arrived at two o'clock, and began the picture.

I found him a bad sitter. He talked all the time, and asked a mult.i.tude of questions about America--how I liked Italy, what I thought of the Italians, &c. When he was silent, he was a better sitter than before; for he a.s.sumed a countenance that did not belong to him, as though he were thinking of a frontispiece for Childe Harold. In about an hour our first sitting terminated, and I returned to Leghorn, scarcely able to persuade myself that this was the haughty misanthrope whose character had always appeared so enveloped in gloom and mystery; for I do not remember ever to have met with manners more gentle and attractive.

"The next day I returned and had another sitting of an hour, during which he seemed anxious to know what I should make of my undertaking.

Whilst I was painting, the window from which I received my light became suddenly darkened, and I heard a voice exclaim 'e troppo bello!' I turned, and discovered a beautiful female stooping down to look in, the ground on the outside being on a level with the bottom of the window.

Her long golden hair hung down about her face and shoulders, her complexion was exquisite, and her smile completed one of the most romantic-looking heads, set off as it was by the bright sun behind it, which I had ever beheld. Lord Byron invited her to come in, and introduced her to me as the Countess Guiccioli. He seemed very fond of her, and I was glad of her presence, for the playful manner which he a.s.sumed towards her made him a much better sitter.

"The next day, I was pleased to find that the progress which I had made in his likeness had given satisfaction, for, when we were alone, he said that he had a particular favour to request of me--would I grant it?

I said I should be happy to oblige him; and he enjoined me to the flattering task of painting the Countess Guiccioli's portrait for him.

On the following morning I began it, and, after, they sat alternately.

He gave me the whole history of his connection with her, and said that he hoped it would last for ever; at any rate, it should not be his fault if it did not. His other attachments had been broken off by no fault of his.

"I was by this time sufficiently intimate with him to answer his question as to what I thought of him before I had seen him. He laughed much at the idea which I had formed of him, and said, 'Well, you find me like other people, do you not?' He often afterwards repeated, 'And so you thought me a finer fellow, did you?' I remember once telling him, that notwithstanding his vivacity, I thought myself correct in at least one estimate which I had made of him, for I still conceived that he was not a happy man. He enquired earnestly what reason I had for thinking so, and I asked him if he had never observed in little children, after a paroxysm of grief, that they had at intervals a convulsive or tremulous manner of drawing in a long breath. Wherever I had observed this, in persons of whatever age, I had always found that it came from sorrow. He said the thought was new to him, and that he would make use of it.

"Lord Byron, and all the party, left Villa Rossa (the name of their house) in a few days, to pack up their things in their house at Pisa.

He told me that he should remain a few days there, and desired me, if I could do any thing more to the pictures, to come and stay with him. He seemed at a loss where to go, and was, I thought, on the point of embarking for America. I was with him at Pisa for a few days; but he was so annoyed by the police, and the weather was so hot, that I thought it doubtful whether I could improve the pictures, and, taking my departure one morning before he was up, I wrote him an excuse from Leghorn. Upon the whole, I left him with an impression that he possessed an excellent heart, which had been misconstrued on all hands from little else than a reckless levity of manners, which he took a whimsical pride in opposing to those of other people."