The Works of Lord Byron: Letters and Journals Volume II Part 23

"Plus ego polliceor: nil recitabo tibi."]

215.--To Francis Hodgson.

8, St. James's Street, Dec. 12, 1811.

Why, Hodgson! I fear you have left off wine and me at the same time,--I have written and written and written, and no answer! My dear Sir Edgar [1], water disagrees with you--drink sack and write. Bland did not come to his appointment, being unwell, but Moore supplied all other vacancies most delectably. I have hopes of his joining us at Newstead. I am sure you would like him more and more as he developes,--at least I do.

How Miller and Bland go on, I don't know. Cawthorne talks of being in treaty for a novel of Madame D'Arblay's, and if he obtains it (at 1500 guineas!!) wishes me to see the MS. This I should read with pleasure,-- not that I should ever dare to venture a criticism on her whose writings Dr. Johnson once revised, but for the pleasure of the thing. If my worthy publisher wanted a sound opinion, I should send the MS. to Rogers and Moore, as men most alive to true taste. I have had frequent letters from Wm. Harness, and _you_ are silent; certes, you are not a schoolboy.

However, I have the consolation of knowing that you are better employed, viz. reviewing. You don't deserve that I should add another syllable, and I won't.

Yours, etc.

P.S.--I only wait for your answer to fix our meeting.

[Footnote 1: Hodgson published, in 1810, 'Sir Edgar, a Tale'.]

216.--To R. C. Dallas.

[Undated, Dec.? 1811] [1]

DEAR SIR,--I have only this scrubby paper to write on--excuse it. I am certain that I sent some more notes on Spain and Portugal, particularly one on the latter. Pray rummage, and don't mind my _politics_. I believe I leave town next week. Are you better? I hope so.

Yours ever, B.

[Footnote 1: Dallas's answer is dated December 14, 1811]

217.--To William Harness.

8, St. James's Street, Dec. 15, 1811.

I wrote you an answer to your last, which, on reflection, pleases me as little as it probably has pleased yourself. I will not wait for your rejoinder; but proceed to tell you, that I had just then been greeted with an epistle of * *'s, full of his petty grievances, and this at the moment when (from circ.u.mstances it is not necessary to enter upon) I was bearing up against recollections to which _his_ imaginary sufferings are as a scratch to a cancer. These things combined, put me out of humour with him and all mankind. The latter part of my life has been a perpetual struggle against affections which embittered the earliest portion; and though I flatter myself I have in a great measure conquered them, yet there are moments (and this was one) when I am as foolish as formerly. I never said so much before, nor had I said this now, if I did not suspect myself of having been rather savage in my letter, and wish to inform you this much of the cause. You know I am not one of your dolorous gentlemen: so now let us laugh again.

Yesterday I went with Moore to Sydenham to visit Campbell [1]. He was not visible, so we jogged homeward merrily enough. To-morrow I dine with Rogers, and am to hear Coleridge, who is a kind of rage at present. Last night I saw Kemble in Coriola.n.u.s [2];--he _was glorious_, and exerted himself wonderfully. By good luck I got an excellent place in the best part of the house, which was more than overflowing. Clare [3] and Delawarr [4], who were there on the same speculation, were less fortunate. I saw them by accident,--we were not together. I wished for you, to gratify your love of Shakspeare and of fine acting to its fullest extent. Last week I saw an exhibition of a different kind in a Mr. Coates, [5] at the Haymarket, who performed Lothario in a _d.a.m.ned_ and d.a.m.nable manner.

I told you the fate of B[land] and H[odgson] in my last. So much for these sentimentalists, who console themselves in their stews for the loss--the never to be recovered loss--the despair of the refined attachment of a couple of drabs! You censure _my_ life, Harness,--when I compare myself with these men, my elders and my betters, I really begin to conceive myself a monument of prudence--a walking statue--without feeling or failing; and yet the world in general hath given me a proud pre-eminence over them in profligacy. Yet I like the men, and, G.o.d knows, ought not to condemn their aberrations. But I own I feel provoked when they dignify all this by the name of _love_--romantic attachments for things marketable for a dollar!

Dec. 16th.--I have just received your letter;--I feel your kindness very deeply. The foregoing part of my letter, written yesterday, will, I hope, account for the tone of the former, though it cannot excuse it. I do _like_ to hear from you--more than _like_. Next to seeing you, I have no greater satisfaction. But you have other duties, and greater pleasures, and I should regret to take a moment from either. H * * was to call to-day, but I have not seen him. The circ.u.mstances you mention at the close of your letter is another proof in favour of my opinion of mankind. Such you will always find them--selfish and distrustful. I except none. The cause of this is the state of society. In the world, every one is to stir for himself--it is useless, perhaps selfish, to expect any thing from his neighbour. But I do not think we are born of this disposition; for you find _friendship_ as a schoolboy, and _love_ enough before twenty.

I went to see * *; he keeps me in town, where I don't wish to be at present. He is a good man, but totally without conduct. And now, my dearest William, I must wish you good morrow, and remain ever, Most sincerely and affectionately yours, etc.

[Footnote 1: Campbell lived at Sydenham from 1804 to 1820. Moore (Life, p. 148) adds the following note:

"On this occasion, another of the n.o.ble poet's peculiarities was, somewhat startlingly, introduced to my notice. When we were on the point of setting out from his lodgings in St. James's Street, it being then about midday, he said to the servant, who was shutting the door of the 'vis-a-vis', 'Have you put in the pistols?' and was answered in the affirmative. It was difficult,--more especially taking into account the circ.u.mstances under which we had just become acquainted,-- to keep from smiling at this singular noonday precaution."]

[Footnote 2: On December 14, 1811, at Covent Garden, Kemble acted "Coriola.n.u.s" with Mrs. Siddons as "Volumnia." It was Kemble's great part, and in it he made his last appearance on the stage (June 23, 1817).]

[Footnote 3: For Lord Clare, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 116, 'note' 1 [Footnote 1 of Letter 65.]]

[Footnote 4: For Lord Delawarr, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 41, note 1 [Footnote 5 of Letter 13.]]

[Footnote 5: Robert Coates, "the Amateur of Fashion," known as "Romeo"

Coates, sometimes as "Diamond" Coates, sometimes as "c.o.c.k-a-doodle-doo"

Coates (1772-1848), was the only surviving son of a wealthy West Indian planter. He made his first appearance on the stage at Bath (February 9, 1810), as "Romeo." In the play-bill he was announced as "a Gentleman, 1st Appearance on any stage." Genest ('English Stage', vol. viii. p.

207) says,

"Many gentlemen have been weak enough to fancy themselves actors, but no one ever persevered in obtruding himself for so long a time on the notice of the public in spite of laughter, hissing, etc."