Thomas Moore - Life of Lord Byron, Vol. IV

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"I am sorry to hear of your row with Hunt; but suppose him to be
exasperated by the Quarterly and your refusal to _deal_; and when
one is angry and edites a paper, I should think the temptation too
strong for literary nature, which is not always human. I can't
conceive in what, and for what, he abuses you: what have you done?
you are not an author, nor a politician, nor a public character; I
know no scrape you have tumbled into. I am the more sorry for this
because I introduced you to Hunt, and because I believe him to be a
good man; but till I know the particulars, I can give no opinion.

"Let me know about Lalla Rookh, which must be out by this time.

"I restore the proofs, but the _punctuation_ should be corrected. I
feel too lazy to have at it myself; so beg and pray Mr. Gifford for
me.--Address to Venice. In a few days I go to my _villeggiatura_,
in a cassino near the Brenta, a few miles only on the main land. I
have determined on another year, and _many years_ of residence if I
can compass them. Marianna is with me, hardly recovered of the
fever, which has been attacking all Italy last winter. I am afraid
she is a little hectic; but I hope the best.

"Ever, &c.

"P.S. Torwaltzen has done a bust of me at Rome for Mr. Hobhouse,
which is reckoned very good. He is their best after Canova, and by
some preferred to him.

"I have had a letter from Mr. Hodgson. He is very happy, has got a
living, but not a child: if he had stuck to a curacy, babes would
have come of course, because he could not have maintained them.

"Remember me to all friends, &c. &c.

"An Austrian officer, the other day, being in love with a Venetian,
was ordered, with his regiment, into Hungary. Distracted between
love and duty, he purchased a deadly drug, which dividing with his
mistress, both swallowed. The ensuing pains were terrific, but the
pills were purgative, and not poisonous, by the contrivance of the
unsentimental apothecary; so that so much suicide was all thrown
away. You may conceive the previous confusion and the final
laughter; but the intention was good on all sides."

* * * * *

LETTER 282. TO MR. MURRAY.

"Venice, June 8. 1817.

"The present letter will be delivered to you by two Armenian
friars, on their way, by England, to Madras. They will also convey
some copies of the grammar, which I think you agreed to take. If
you can be of any use to them, either amongst your naval or East
Indian acquaintances, I hope you will so far oblige me, as they and
their order have been remarkably attentive and friendly towards me
since my arrival at Venice. Their names are Father Sukias Somalian
and Father Sarkis Theodorosian. They speak Italian, and probably
French, or a little English. Repeating earnestly my recommendatory
request, believe me, very truly, yours,

"BYRON.

"Perhaps you can help them to their passage, or give or get them
letters for India."

* * * * *

LETTER 283. TO MR. MURRAY.

"La Mira, near Venice, June 14. 1817.

"I write to you from the banks of the Brenta, a few miles from
Venice, where I have colonised for six months to come. Address, as
usual, to Venice.

"Three months after date (17th March),--like the unnegotiable bill
despondingly received by the reluctant tailor,--your despatch has
arrived, containing the extract from Moore's Italy and Mr.
Maturin's bankrupt tragedy. It is the absurd work of a clever man.
I think it might have done upon the stage, if he had made Manuel
(by some trickery, in a masque or vizor) fight his own battle,
instead of employing Molineux as his champion; and, after the
defeat of Torismond, have made him spare the son of his enemy, by
some revulsion of feeling, not incompatible with a character of
extravagant and distempered emotions. But as it is, what with the
Justiza, and the ridiculous conduct of the whole _dram. pers._ (for
they are all as mad as Manuel, who surely must have had more
interest with a corrupt bench than a distant relation and heir
presumptive, somewhat suspect of homicide,) I do not wonder at its
failure. As a play, it is impracticable; as a poem, no great
things. Who was the 'Greek that grappled with glory naked?' the
Olympic wrestlers? or Alexander the Great, when he ran stark round
the tomb of t'other fellow? or the Spartan who was fined by the
Ephori for fighting without his armour? or who? And as to 'flaying
off life like a garment,' helas! that's in Tom Thumb--see king
Arthur's soliloquy:

"'Life's a mere rag, not worth a prince's wearing;
I'll cast it off.'

And the stage-directions--'Staggers among the bodies;'--the slain
are too numerous, as well as the blackamoor knights-penitent being
one too many: and De Zelos is such a shabby Monmouth Street
villain, without any redeeming quality--Stap my vitals! Maturin
seems to be declining into Nat. Lee. But let him try again; he has
talent, but not much taste. I 'gin to fear, or to hope, that
Sotheby, after all, is to be the Eschylus of the age, unless Mr.
Shiel be really worthy his success. The more I see of the stage,
the less I would wish to have any thing to do with it; as a proof
of which, I hope you have received the third Act of Manfred, which
will at least prove that I wish to steer very clear of the
possibility of being put into scenery. I sent it from _Rome_.

"I returned the proof of Tasso. By the way, have you never received
a translation of St. Paul which I sent you, _not_ for publication,
before I went to Rome?

"I am at present on the Brenta. Opposite is a Spanish marquis,
ninety years old; next his casino is a Frenchman's,--besides the
natives; so that, as somebody said the other day, we are exactly
one of Goldoni's comedies (La Vedova Scaltra), where a Spaniard,
English, and Frenchman are introduced: but we are all very good
neighbours, Venetians, &c. &c. &c.

"I am just getting on horseback for my evening ride, and a visit to
a physician, who has an agreeable family, of a wife and four
unmarried daughters, all under eighteen, who are friends of Signora
S * *, and enemies to nobody. There are, and are to be, besides,
conversaziones and I know not what, a Countess Labbia's and I know
not whom. The weather is mild; the thermometer 110 in the _sun_
this day, and 80 odd in the shade. Yours, &c.

"N."

* * * * *

LETTER 284. TO MR. MURRAY.

"La Mira, near Venice, June 17. 1817.

"It gives me great pleasure to hear of Moore's success, and the
more so that I never doubted that it would be complete. Whatever
good you can tell me of him and his poem will be most acceptable: I
feel very anxious indeed to receive it. I hope that he is as happy
in his fame and reward as I wish him to be; for I know no one who
deserves both more--if any so much.

"Now to business; * * * * * * I say unto you, verily, it is not so;
or, as the foreigner said to the waiter, after asking him to bring
a glass of water, to which the man answered, 'I will, sir,'--'You
will!--G----d d----n,--I say, you _mush_!' And I will submit this
to the decision of any person or persons to be appointed by both,
on a fair examination of the circumstances of this as compared
with the preceding publications. So there's for you. There is
always some row or other previously to all our publications: it
should seem that, on approximating, we can never quite get over the
natural antipathy of author and bookseller, and that more
particularly the ferine nature of the latter must break forth.

"You are out about the third Canto: I have not done, nor designed,
a line of continuation to that poem. I was too short a time at Rome
for it, and have no thought of recommencing.

"I cannot well explain to you by letter what I conceive to be the
origin of Mrs. Leigh's notion about 'Tales of my Landlord;' but it
is some points of the characters of Sir E. Manley and Burley, as
well as one or two of the jocular portions, on which it is founded,
probably.

"If you have received Dr. Polidori as well as a parcel of books,
and you can be of use to him, be so. I never was much more
disgusted with any human production than with the eternal nonsense,
and tracasseries, and emptiness, and ill humour, and vanity of that
young person; but he has some talent, and is a man of honour, and
has dispositions of amendment, in which he has been aided by a
little subsequent experience, and may turn out well. Therefore, use
your government interest for him, for he is improved and
improvable.

"Yours," &c.

* * * * *

LETTER 285. TO MR. MURRAY.

"La Mira, near Venice, June 18. 1817.

"Enclosed is a letter to _Dr._ Holland from Pindemonte. Not knowing
the Doctor's address, I am desired to enquire, and, perhaps, being
a literary man, you will know or discover his haunt near some
populous churchyard. I have written to you a scolding letter--I
believe, upon a misapprehended passage in your letter--but never
mind: it will do for next time, and you will surely deserve it.
Talking of doctors reminds me once more to recommend to you one who
will not recommend himself,--the Doctor Polidori. If you can help
him to a publisher, do; or, if you have any sick relation, I would
advise his advice: all the patients he had in Italy are dead--Mr. *
*'s son, Mr. Horner, and Lord G * *, whom he embowelled with great
success at Pisa.

"Remember me to Moore, whom I congratulate. How is Rogers? and what
is become of Campbell and all t'other fellows of the Druid order? I
got Maturin's Bedlam at last, but no other parcel; I am in fits for
the tooth-powder, and the magnesia. I want some of Burkitt's
_soda_-powders. Will you tell Mr. Kinnaird that I have written him
two letters on pressing business, (about Newstead, &c.) to which I
humbly solicit his attendance. I am just returned from a gallop
along the banks of the Brenta--time, sunset. Yours,

"B."

* * * * *

LETTER 286. TO MR. MURRAY.

"La Mira, near Venice, July 1. 1817.

"Since my former letter, I have been working up my impressions into
a _fourth_ Canto of Childe Harold, of which I have roughened off
about rather better than thirty stanzas, and mean to go on; and
probably to make this 'Fytte' the concluding one of the poem, so
that you may propose against the autumn to draw out the
conscription for 1818. You must provide moneys, as this new
resumption bodes you certain disbursements. Somewhere about the end
of September or October, I propose to be under way (_i.e._ in the
press); but I have no idea yet of the probable length or calibre of
the Canto, or what it will be good for; but I mean to be as
mercenary as possible, an example (I do not mean of any individual
in particular, and least of all, any person or persons of our
mutual acquaintance) which I should have followed in my youth, and
I might still have been a prosperous gentleman.

"No tooth-powder, no letters, no recent tidings of you.

"Mr. Lewis is at Venice, and I am going up to stay a week with him
there--as it is one of his enthusiasms also to like the city.

"I stood in Venice on the 'Bridge of Sighs,' &c. &c.

"The 'Bridge of Sighs' (_i.e._ Ponte de'i Sospiri) is that which
divides, or rather joins, the palace of the Doge to the prison of
the state. It has two passages: the criminal went by the one to
judgment, and returned by the other to death, being strangled in a
chamber adjoining, where there was a mechanical process for the
purpose.

"This is the first stanza of our new Canto; and now for a line of
the second:--

"In Venice, Tasso's echoes are no more,
And silent rows the songless gondolier,
Her palaces, &c. &c.

"You know that formerly the gondoliers sung always, and Tasso's
Gierusalemme was their ballad. Venice is built on seventy-two
islands.

"There! there's a brick of your new Babel! and now, sirrah! what
say you to the sample?

"Yours, &c.

"P.S. I shall write again by and by."

* * * * *

LETTER 287. TO MR. MURRAY.

"La Mira, near Venice, July 8. 1817

"If you can convey the enclosed letter to its address, or discover
the person to whom it is directed, you will confer a favour upon
the Venetian creditor of a deceased Englishman. This epistle is a
dun to his executor, for house-rent. The name of the insolvent
defunct is, or was, _Porter Valter_, according to the account of
the plaintiff, which I rather suspect ought to be _Walter Porter_,
according to our mode of collocation. If you are acquainted with
any dead man of the like name a good deal in debt, pray dig him up,
and tell him that 'a pound of his fair flesh' or the ducats are
required, and that 'if you deny them, fie upon your law!'

"I hear nothing more from you about Moore's poem, Rogers, or other
literary phenomena; but to-morrow, being post-day, will bring
perhaps some tidings. I write to you with people talking Venetian
all about, so that you must not expect this letter to be all
English.

"The other day, I had a squabble on the highway, as follows: I was
riding pretty quickly from Dolo home about eight in the evening,
when I passed a party of people in a hired carriage, one of whom,
poking his head out of the window, began bawling to me in an
inarticulate but insolent manner. I wheeled my horse round, and
overtaking, stopped the coach, and said, 'Signor, have you any
commands for me?' He replied, impudently as to manner, 'No.' I then
asked him what he meant by that unseemly noise, to the discomfiture
of the passers-by. He replied by some piece of impertinence, to
which I answered by giving him a violent slap in the face. I then
dismounted, (for this passed at the window, I being on horseback
still,) and opening the door desired him to walk out, or I would
give him another. But the first had settled him except as to words,
of which he poured forth a profusion in blasphemies, swearing that
he would go to the police and avouch a battery sans provocation. I
said he lied, and was a * *, and if he did not hold his tongue,
should be dragged out and beaten anew. He then held his tongue. I
of course told him my name and residence, and defied him to the
death, if he were a gentleman, or not a gentleman, and had the
inclination to be genteel in the way of combat. He went to the
police, but there having been bystanders in the
road,--particularly a soldier, who had seen the business,--as well
as my servant, notwithstanding the oaths of the coachman and five
insides besides the plaintiff, and a good deal of paying on all
sides, his complaint was dismissed, he having been the
aggressor;--and I was subsequently informed that, had I not given
him a blow, he might have been had into durance.

"So set down this,--'that in Aleppo once' I 'beat a Venetian;' but
I assure you that he deserved it, for I am a quiet man, like
Candide, though with somewhat of his fortune in being forced to
forego my natural meekness every now and then.

"Yours, &c. B."

* * * * *

LETTER 288. TO MR. MURRAY.

"Venice, July 9, 1817.

"I have got the sketch and extracts from Lalla Rookh. The plan, as
well as the extracts, I have seen, please me very much indeed, and
I feel impatient for the whole.

"With regard to the critique on 'Manfred,' you have been in such a
devil of a hurry, that you have only sent me the half: it breaks
off at page 294. Send me the rest; and also page 270., where there
is 'an account of the supposed origin of this dreadful story,'--in
which, by the way, whatever it may be, the conjecturer is out, and
knows nothing of the matter. I had a better origin than he can
devise or divine, for the soul of him.

"You say nothing of Manfred's luck in the world; and I care not.
He is one of the best of my misbegotten, say what they will.

"I got at last an extract, but _no parcels_. They will come, I
suppose, some time or other. I am come up to Venice for a day or
two to bathe, and am just going to take a swim in the Adriatic; so,
good evening--the post waits. Yours, &c.

"B.

"P.S. Pray, was Manfred's speech to _the Sun_ still retained in Act
third? I hope so: it was one of the best in the thing, and better
than the Colosseum. I have done _fifty-six_ of Canto fourth, Childe
Harold; so down with your ducats."

* * * * *

LETTER 289. TO MR. MOORE.

"La Mira, Venice, July 10. 1817.

"Murray, the Mokanna of booksellers, has contrived to send me
extracts from Lalla Rookh by the post. They are taken from some
magazine, and contain a short outline and quotations from the two
first Poems. I am very much delighted with what is before me, and
very thirsty for the rest. You have caught the colours as if you
had been in the rainbow, and the tone of the East is perfectly
preserved. I am glad you have changed the title from 'Persian
Tale.'

"I suspect you have written a devilish fine composition, and I
rejoice in it from my heart; because 'the Douglas and the Percy
both together are confident against a world in arms.' I hope you
won't be affronted at my looking on us as 'birds of a feather;'
though on whatever subject you had written, I should have been very
happy in your success.

"There is a simile of an orange-tree's 'flowers and fruits,' which
I should have liked better if I did not believe it to be a
reflection on * * *.

"Do you remember Thurlow's poem to Sam--'_When_ Rogers;' and that
d----d supper of Rancliffe's that ought to have been a _dinner_?
'Ah, Master Shallow, we have heard the chimes at midnight.' But

"My boat is on the shore,
And my bark is on the sea;
But, before I go, Tom Moore,
Here's a double health to thee!

"Here's a sigh to those who love me,
And a smile to those who hate;
And whatever sky's above me,
Here's a heart for every fate.

"Though the ocean roar around me,
Yet it still shall bear me on;
Though a desert should surround me,
It hath springs that may be won.

"Were't the last drop in the well,
As I gasp'd upon the brink,
Ere my fainting spirit fell,
'Tis to thee that I would drink.

"With that water, as this wine,
The libation I would pour,
Should be--peace with thine and mine,
And a health to thee, Tom Moore.

"This should have been written fifteen moons ago--the first stanza
was. I am just come out from an hour's swim in the Adriatic; and I
write to you with a black-eyed Venetian girl before me, reading
Boccacio.

"Last week I had a row on the road (I came up to Venice from my
casino, a few miles on the Paduan road, this blessed day, to bathe)
with a fellow in a carriage, who was impudent to my horse. I gave
him a swingeing box on the ear, which sent him to the police, who
dismissed his complaint. Witnesses had seen the transaction. He
first shouted, in an unseemly way, to frighten my palfry. I wheeled
round, rode up to the window, and asked him what he meant. He
grinned, and said some foolery, which produced him an immediate
slap in the face, to his utter discomfiture. Much blasphemy ensued,
and some menace, which I stopped by dismounting and opening the
carriage door, and intimating an intention of mending the road with
his immediate remains, if he did not hold his tongue. He held it.

"Monk Lewis is here--'how pleasant!'[5] He is a very good fellow,
and very much yours. So is Sam--so is every body--and amongst the
number,

"Yours ever,

"B.

"P.S. What think you of Manfred?"

[Footnote 5: An allusion (such as often occurs in these letters) to an
anecdote with which he had been amused.]

* * * * *

LETTER 290. TO MR. MURRAY.

"La Mira, near Venice, July 15. 1817.

"I have finished (that is, written--the file comes afterwards)
ninety and eight stanzas of the fourth Canto, which I mean to be
the concluding one. It will probably be about the same length as
the _third_, being already of the dimensions of the first or second
Cantos. I look upon parts of it as very good, that is, if the three
former are good, but this we shall see; and at any rate, good or
not, it is rather a different style from the last--less
metaphysical--which, at any rate, will be a variety. I sent you the
shaft of the column as a specimen the other day, _i.e._ the first
stanza. So you may be thinking of its arrival towards autumn, whose
winds will not be the only ones to be raised, _if so be as how
that_ it is ready by that time.

"I lent Lewis, who is at Venice, (in or on the Canalaccio, the
Grand Canal,) your extracts from Lalla Rookh and Manuel[6], and,
out of contradiction, it may be, he likes the last, and is not much
taken with the first, of these performances. Of Manuel, I think,
with the exception of a few capers, it is as heavy a nightmare as
was ever bestrode by indigestion.

"Of the extracts I can but judge as extracts, and I prefer the
'Peri' to the 'Silver Veil.' He seems not so much at home in his
versification of the 'Silver Veil,' and a little embarrassed with
his horrors; but the conception of the character of the impostor
is fine, and the plan of great scope for his genius,--and I doubt
not that, as a whole, it will be very Arabesque and beautiful.

"Your late epistle is not the most abundant in information, and has
not yet been succeeded by any other; so that I know nothing of your
own concerns, or of any concerns, and as I never hear from any body
but yourself who does not tell me something as disagreeable as
possible, I should not be sorry to hear from you: and as it is not
very probable,--if I can, by any device or possible arrangement
with regard to my personal affairs, so arrange it,--that I shall
return soon, or reside ever in England, all that you tell me will
be all I shall know or enquire after, as to our beloved realm of
Grub Street, and the black brethren and blue sisterhood of that
extensive suburb of Babylon. Have you had no new babe of literature
sprung up to replace the dead, the distant, the tired, and the
_re_tired? no prose, no verse, no _nothing_?"

[Footnote 6: A tragedy, by the Rev. Mr. Maturin.]

* * * * *

LETTER 291. TO MR. MURRAY.

"Venice, July 20. 1817.

"I write to give you notice that I have completed the _fourth_ and
_ultimate_ Canto of Childe Harold. It consists of 126 stanzas, and
is consequently the longest of the four. It is yet to be copied and
polished; and the notes are to come, of which it will require more
than the _third_ Canto, as it necessarily treats more of works of
art than of nature. It shall be sent towards autumn;--and now for
our barter. What do you bid? eh? you shall have samples, an' it so
please you: but I wish to know what I am to expect (as the saying
is) in these hard times, when poetry does not let for half its
value. If you are disposed to do what Mrs. Winifred Jenkins calls
'the handsome thing,' I may perhaps throw you some odd matters to
the lot,--translations, or slight originals; there is no saying
what may be on the anvil between this and the booking season.
Recollect that it is the _last_ Canto, and completes the work;
whether as good as the others, I cannot judge, in course--least of
all as yet,--but it shall be as little worse as I can help. I may,
perhaps, give some little gossip in the notes as to the present
state of Italian literati and literature, being acquainted with
some of their _capi_--men as well as books;--but this depends upon
my humour at the time. So, now, pronounce: I say nothing.

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