The Works of Lord Byron: Letters and Journals Volume II Part 3

My Dear Augusta,--The embarra.s.sments you mention in your last letter I never heard of before, but that disease is epidemic in our family.

Neither have I been apprised of any of the changes at which you hint, indeed how should I? On the borders of the Black Sea, we heard only of the Russians. So you have much to tell, and all will be novelty.

I don't know what Scrope Davies [2] meant by telling you I liked Children, I abominate the sight of them so much that I have always had the greatest respect for the character of Herod. But, as my house here is large enough for us all, we should go on very well, and I need not tell you that I long to see _you_. I really do not perceive any thing so formidable in a Journey hither of two days, but all this comes of Matrimony, you have a Nurse and all the etceteras of a family. Well, I must marry to repair the ravages of myself and prodigal ancestry, but if I am ever so unfortunate as to be presented with an Heir, instead of a _Rattle_ he shall be provided with a _Gag_.

I shall perhaps be able to accept D's invitation to Cambridge, but I fear my stay in Lancashire will be prolonged, I proceed there in the 2d week in Septr to arrange my coal concerns, & then if I can't persuade some wealthy dowdy to enn.o.ble the dirty puddle of her mercantile Blood,--why--I shall leave England and all it's clouds for the East again; I am very sick of it already. Joe [3] has been getting well of a disease that would have killed a troop of horse; he promises to bear away the palm of longevity from old Parr. As you won't come, you will write; I long to hear all those unutterable things, being utterly unable to guess at any of them, unless they concern _your_ relative the Thane of Carlisle, [4] though I had great hopes we had done with him.

I have little to add that you do not already know, and being quite alone, have no great variety of incident to gossip with; I am but rarely pestered with visiters, and the few I have I get rid of as soon as possible. I will now take leave of you in the Jargon of 1794. "Health & _Fraternity!"_

Yours always, B.

[Footnote 1: For the Hon. Augusta Leigh, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 18, 'note' 1. [Footnote 1 of Letter 7] Byron's letter is in answer to the following from his half-sister:

"6 Mile Bottom, Aug. 27th.

"My Dearest Brother,--Your letter was stupidly sent to Town to me on Sunday, from whence I arrived at home yesterday; consequently I have not received it so soon as I ought to have done. I feel so very happy to have the pleasure of hearing from you that I will not delay a moment answering it, altho' I am in all the delights of 'unpacking', and afraid of being too late for the Post.

"I have been a fortnight in Town, and went up on my 'eldest' little girl's account. She had been very unwell for some time, and I could not feel happy till I had better advice than this neighbourhood affords. She is, thank Heaven! much better, and I hope in a fair way to be quite 'herself' again. Mr. Davies flattered me by saying she was exactly the sort of child 'you' would delight in. I am determined not to say another word in her praise for fear you should accuse me of partiality and expect too much. The youngest ('little' Augusta) is just 6 months old, and has no particular merit at present but a very sweet placid temper.

"Oh! that I could immediately set out to Newstead and shew them to you. I can't tell you 'half' the happiness it would give me to see it and 'you'; but, my dearest B., it is a long journey and serious undertaking all things considered. Mr. Davies writes me word you promise to make him a visit bye and bye; 'pray do', you can then so easily come here. I have set my heart upon it. Consider how very long it is since I've seen you.

"I have indeed 'much' to tell you; but it is more easily 'said' than 'written'. Probably you have heard of many changes in our situation since you left England; in a 'pecuniary' point of view it is materially altered for the worse; perhaps in other respects better.

Col. Leigh has been in Dorsetshire and Suss.e.x during my stay in Town.

I expect him at home towards the end of this week, and hope to make him acquainted with you ere long.

"I have not time to write half I have to say, for my letter must go; but I prefer writing in a hurry to not writing at all. You can't think how much I feel for your griefs and losses, or how much and constantly I have thought of you lately. I began a letter to you in Town, but destroyed it, from the fear of appearing troublesome. There are times, I know, when one cannot write with any degree of comfort or satisfaction. I intend to do so again shortly, so I hope yon won't think me a bore.

"Remember me most kindly to Old Joe. I rejoice to hear of his health and prosperity. Your letter (some parts of it at least) made me laugh.

I am so very glad to hear you have sufficiently overcome your prejudices against the 'fair s.e.x' to have determined upon marrying; but I shall be most anxious that my future 'Belle Soeur' should have more attractions than merely money, though to be sure 'that' is somewhat necessary. I have not another moment, dearest B., so forgive me if I write again very soon, and believe me,

"Your most affec'tn Sister, A. L.

"Do write if you can."]

[Footnote 2: For Scrope Berdmore Davies, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 165, 'note' 2. [Footnote 2 of Letter 86] The following story is told of him by Byron, in a pa.s.sage of his 'Detached Thoughts' (Ravenna, 1821):

"One night Scrope Davies at a Gaming house (before I was of age), being tipsy as he usually was at the Midnight hour, and having lost monies, was in vain intreated by his friends, one degree less intoxicated than himself, to come or go home. In despair, he was left to himself and to the demons of the dice-box.

"Next day, being visited about two of the Clock, by some friends just risen with a severe headache and empty pockets (who had left him losing at four or five in the morning), he was found in a sound sleep, without a night-cap, and not particularly enc.u.mbered with bed-cloathes: a Chamber-pot stood by his bed-side, brim-full of---'Bank Notes!', all won, G.o.d knows how, and crammed, Scrope knew not where; but THERE they were, all good legitimate notes, and to the amount of some thousand pounds."]

[Footnote 3: For Joe Murray, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 21, 'note' 3.

[Footnote 4 of Letter 7]]

[Footnote 4: For the Earl of Carlisle, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 36, 'note' 2. [Footnote 3 of Letter 13]]

174.-To the Hon. Augusta Leigh.

Newstead Abbey, Aug'st 30th, 1811.

MY DEAR AUGUSTA,--I wrote to you yesterday, and as you will not be very sorry to hear from me again, considering our long separation, I shall fill up this sheet before I go to bed. I have heard something of a quarrel between your spouse and the Prince, I don't wish to pry into family secrets or to hear anything more of the matter, but I can't help regretting on your account that so long an intimacy should be dissolved at the very moment when your husband might have derived some advantage from his R. H.'s friendship. However, at all events, and in all Situations, you have a brother in me, and a home here.

I am led into this train of thinking by a part of your letter which hints at pecuniary losses. I know how delicate one ought to be on such subjects, but you are probably the only being on Earth _now_ interested in my welfare, certainly the only relative, and I should be very ungrateful if I did not feel the obligation. You must excuse my being a little cynical, knowing how my _temper_ was tried in my Non-age; the manner in which I was brought up must necessarily have broken a meek Spirit, or rendered a fiery one ungovernable; the effect it has had on mine I need not state.

However, buffeting with the World has brought me a little to reason, and two years travel in distant and barbarous countries has accustomed me to bear privations, and consequently to laugh at many things which would have made me angry before. But I am wandering--in short I only want to a.s.sure you that I love you, and that you must not think I am indifferent, because I don't shew my affection in the usual way.

Pray can't you contrive to pay me a visit between this and Xmas? or shall I carry you down with me from Cambridge, supposing it practicable for me to come? You will do what you please, without our interfering with each other; the premises are so delightfully extensive, that two people might live together without ever seeing, hearing or meeting,--but I can't feel the comfort of this till I marry. In short it would be the most amiable matrimonial mansion, and that is another great inducement to my plan,--my wife and I shall be so happy,--one in each Wing. If this description won't make you come, I can't tell what will, you must please yourself. Good night, I have to walk half a mile to my Bed chamber.

Yours ever, BYRON.

175.--To James Wedderburn Webster.

Newstead Abbey, Notts., Aug'st 31st, 1811.

MY DEAR W.,--I send you back your friend's letter, and, though I don't agree with his Canons of Criticism, they are not the worse for that. My friend Hodgson [1] is not much honoured by the comparison to the 'Pursuits of L.', which is notoriously, as far as the 'poetry' goes, the worst written of its kind; the World has been long but of one opinion, viz. that it's sole merit lies in the Notes, which are indisputably excellent.

Had Hodgson's "Alterative" been placed with the 'Baviad' the compliment had been higher to both; for, surely, the 'Baviad' is as much superior to H.'s poem, as I do firmly believe H.'s poem to be to the 'Pursuits of Literature'.

Your correspondent talks for talking's sake when he says "Lady J. Grey"

is neither "Epic, dramatic, or legendary." Who ever said it was "epic"

or "dramatic"? he might as well say his letter was neither "epic or dramatic;" the poem makes no pretensions to either character.

"Legendary" it certainly is, but what has that to do with its merits?

All stories of that kind founded on facts are in a certain degree legendary, but they may be well or ill written without the smallest alteration in that respect. When Mr. Hare prattles about the "Economy,"

etc., he sinks sadly;--all such expressions are the mere cant of a schoolboy hovering round the Skirts of Criticism.