1 my Errors in that point, for even the Eneid was a political poem, and written for a political purpose; and as to my unlucky opinions on Subjects of more importance, I am too sincere in them for recantation. On Spanish affairs I have said what I saw, and every day confirms me in that notion of the result formed on the Spot; and I rather think honest John Bull is beginning to come round again to that Sobriety which Massena's retreat had begun to reel from its centre-the usual consequence of unusual success. So you perceive I cannot alter the Sentiments; but if there are any alterations in the structure of the versification you would wish to be made, I will tag rhymes and turn stanzas as much as you please. As for the "Orthodox," let us hope they will buy, on purpose to abuse-you will forgive the one, if they will do the other. You are aware that any thing from my pen must expect no quarter, on many accounts; and as the present publication is of a nature very different from the former, we must not be sanguine. You have given me no answer to my question-tell me fairly, did you show the MS. to some of your corps? 2 -I sent an introductory stanza to Mr. Dallas, that it might be forwarded to you; the poem else will open too abruptly. The Stanzas had better be numbered in Roman characters, there is a disquisition on the literature of the modern Greeks, and some smaller poems to come in at the close. These are now at Newstead, but will be sent in time. If Mr. D. has lost the Stanza and note annexed to it, write, and I will send it myself.-You tell 1. On the night of March 5, 1811, Massena retreated from his camp at Santarem, whence he had watched Wellington at Torres Vedras, and on April 4 he crossed the Coa into Spain. 2. Murray had shown the MS. to Gifford for advice as to its publication. Byron seems to have resented this on the ground that it might look like an attempt to propitiate the Quarterly Review. 1811.] GIFFORD'S APPROBATION. 27 me to add two cantos, but I am about to visit my Collieries in Lancashire on the 15th instant, which is so unpoetical an employment that I need say no more. I am, sir, your most obedient, etc., etc., BYRON. 180.-To R. C. Dallas. Newstead Abbey, September 7, 1811. As Gifford has been ever my "Magnus Apollo," any approbation, such as you mention, would, of course, be more welcome than "all Bocara's vaunted gold, than all "the gems of Samarcand.”1 But I am sorry the MS. was shown to him in such a manner, and had written to Murray to say as much, before I was aware that it was too late. Your objection to the expression "central line" I can only meet by saying that, before Childe Harold left England, it was his full intention to traverse Persia, and return by India, which he could not have done without passing the equinoctial. The other errors you mention, I must correct in the progress through the press. I feel honoured by the wish of such men that the poem should be continued, but to do that I must return to Greece and Asia; I must have a warm sun, a blue sky; I cannot describe scenes so dear to me by a sea-coal fire. I had projected an additional 1. The lines, which are parodied in Byron's unpublished Barmaid, are from Sir W. Jones's translation of a song by Hafiz (Works, vol. x. p. 251)— "Sweet maid, if thou would'st charm my sight, And bid these arms thy neck infold; That rosy cheek, that lily hand, Would give thy poet more delight, canto when I was in the Troad and Constantinople, and if I saw them again, it would go on; but under existing circumstances and sensations, I have neither harp, “heart, "nor voice" to proceed. I feel that you are all right as to the metaphysical part; but I also feel that I am sincere, and that if I am only to write "ad captandum vulgus," I might as well edit a magazine at once, or spin canzonettas for Vauxhall.1 My work must make its way as well as it can; I know I have every thing against me, angry poets and prejudices; but if the poem is a poem, it will surmount these obstacles, and if not, it deserves its fate. Your friend's Ode2 I have read it is no great compliment to pronounce it far superior to Smythe's on the same subject, or to the merits of the new Chancellor. It is evidently the production of a man of taste, and a poet, though I should not be willing to say it was fully equal to what might be expected from the author of "Hora Ionicæ." 3 I thank you for it, and that is more than I would do for any other Ode of the present day. 1. Vauxhall Gardens (1661 to July 25, 1859) were still not only a popular but a fashionable resort, though fireworks and masquerades threatened to expel musicians and vocalists. At this time the principal singers were Charles Dignum (1765-1827); Maria Theresa Bland (1769-1838), a famous ballad-singer; Rosoman Mountain, née Wilkinson (1768-1841), whose husband was a violinist and leader at Vauxhall.-(The London Pleasure Gardens, pp. 286-326.) 2. On June 29, 1811, the Duke of Gloucester was installed as Chancellor of the University of Cambridge. The Installation Ode, written by W. Smyth, of Peterhouse (1765-1849), Professor of Modern History at Cambridge, and author of English Lyrics (1797) and other works, was set to music by Hague, and performed in the Senate House, Braham and Ashe, it is said, particularly distinguishing themselves among the performers. The Ode is given in the Annual Register for 1811, pp. 593-596. The rival Ode, which Byron preferred, was by Walter Rodwell Wright. 3. For Walter Rodwell Wright, author of Hora Ionica (1809), see Letters, vol. i. p. 336, note I. 1811.] CHARLES SKINNER MATTHEWS. 29 I am very sensible of your good wishes, and, indeed, I have need of them. My whole life has been at variance with propriety, not to say decency; my circumstances are become involved; my friends are dead or estranged, and my existence a dreary void. In Matthews I have lost my "guide, philosopher, and friend;" in Wingfield a friend only, but one whom I could have wished to have preceded in his long journey. Matthews was indeed an extraordinary man; it has not entered into the heart of a stranger to conceive such a man there was the stamp of immortality in all he said or did;—and now what is he? When we see such men pass away and be no more-men, who seem created to display what the Creator could make his creatures, gathered into corruption, before the maturity of minds that might have been the pride of posterity, what are we to conclude? For my own part, I am bewildered. To me he was much, to Hobhouse every thing. My poor Hobhouse doted on Matthews. For me, I did not love quite so much as I honoured him; I was indeed so sensible of his infinite superiority, that though I did not envy, I stood in awe of it. He, Hobhouse, Davies, and myself, formed a coterie of our own at Cambridge and elsewhere. Davies is a wit and man of the world, and feels as much as such a character can do; but not as Hobhouse has been affected. Davies, who is not a scribbler, has always beaten us all in the war of words, and by his colloquial powers at once delighted and kept us in order. Hobhouse and myself always had the worst of it with the other two; and even Matthews yielded to the dashing vivacity of Scrope Davies. But I am talking to you of men, or boys, as if you cared about such beings. I expect mine agent down on the 14th to proceed to Lancashire, where I hear from all quarters that I have a very valuable property in coals, etc. I then intend to accept an invitation to Cambridge in October, and shall, perhaps, run up to town. I have four invitations—to Wales, Dorset, Cambridge, and Chester; but I must be a man of business. I am quite alone, as these long letters sadly testify. I perceive, by referring to your letter, that the Ode is from the author; make my thanks acceptable to him. His muse is worthy a nobler theme. You will write as usual, I hope. I wish you good evening, and am, etc. 181. To the Hon. Augusta Leigh. [Six Mile Eottom, Newmarket.] Newstead Abbey, Sept. 9th, 1811. MY DEAR AUGUSTA,-My Rochdale affairs are understood to be settled as far as the Law can settle them, and indeed I am told that the most valuable part is that which was never disputed; but I have never reaped any advantage from them, and God knows if I ever shall. Mr. H., my agent, is a good man and able, but the most dilatory in the world. I expect him down on the 14th to accompany me to Rochdale, where something will be decided as to selling or working the Collieries. I am Lord of the Manor (a most extensive one), and they want to enclose, which cannot be done without me; but I go there in the worst humour possible and am afraid I shall do or say something not very conciliatory. In short all my affairs are going on as badly as possible, and I have no hopes or plans to better them as I long ago pledged myself never to sell Newstead, which I mean to hold in defiance of the Devil and Man. I am quite alone and never see strangers without being sick, but I am nevertheless on good terms with my |