friends, who wrote to inquire after my sanity on the occasion, as well they might. I have heard nothing of Murray, whom I scolded heartily. Must I write more notes? Are there not enough? Cawthorn must be kept back with the Hints. I hope he is getting on with Hobhouse's quarto. Good evening. Yours ever, etc. 198.-To Francis Hodgson. Newstead Abbey, Oct. 13, 1811. You will begin to deem me a most liberal correspondent; but as my letters are free, you will overlook their frequency. I have sent you answers in prose and verse to all your late communications; and though I am invading your ease again, I don't know why, or what to put down that you are not acquainted with already. I am growing nervous (how you will laugh!)—but it is true, -really, wretchedly, ridiculously, fine-ladically nervous. Your climate kills me; I can neither read, write, nor amuse myself, or any one else. My days are listless, and my nights restless; I have very seldom any society, and when I have, I run out of it. At "this present writing," there are in the next room three ladies, and I have stolen away to write this grumbling letter.—I don't know that I sha'n't end with insanity, for I find a want of method in arranging my thoughts that perplexes me strangely; but this looks more like silliness than madness, as Scrope Davies would facetiously remark in his consoling manner. I must try the hartshorn of your company; and a session "Pishy;' The Four Slaves of Cythera 'The Four do. of Cythera,' "and Childe Harold's Pilgrimage 'Child of Harrow's Pilgrimage.' "This misnomering Vendor of Books must have been misbegotten "in some portentous union of the Malaprops and the Slipslops." 1811.] ROBERT BLAND. 55 of Parliament would suit me well,-any thing to cure me of conjugating the accursed verb "ennuyer.” When shall you be at Cambridge? You have hinted, I think, that your friend Bland1 is returned from Holland. I have always had a great respect for his talents, and for all that I have heard of his character; but of me, I believe he knows nothing, except that he heard my sixth form repetitions ten months together at the average of two lines a morning, and those never perfect. I remembered him and his Slaves as I passed between Capes Matapan, St. Angelo, and his Isle of Ceriga, and I always bewailed the absence of the Anthology. I suppose he will now translate Vondel, the Dutch Shakspeare, and Gysbert van Amstel will easily be accommodated to our stage in its present state; and I presume he saw the Dutch poem, where the love of Pyramus and Thisbe is compared to the passion of Christ; also the love of Lucifer for Eve, and other varieties of Low Country literature. 1. For Robert Bland, see Letters, vol. i. p. 271, note 1. In his Four Slaves of Cythera (1809), Canto I., occur the following lines :"Now full in sight the Paphian gardens smile, And thence by many a green and summer isle, Gem of the sea, for love's delight renown'd." 2. Bland had been acting as English Chaplain in Holland. Joost Van Vondel (1587–1679), born at Cologne of Anabaptist parents, became a Roman Catholic in 1641. Most of his thirty-two tragedies are on classical or religious subjects, and in the latter may be traced his gradual change of faith. Gysbrecht van Amstel (1637) is a play, the action of which takes place on Christmas Day in the thirteenth century. The scene is laid at Amsterdam, which is captured by a ruse like that of the Greeks at Troy. The play appealed strongly to the patriotic instincts of the Dutch by its prophecy of the future greatness of Amsterdam. Vondel's Lucifer (1654) has been often compared to Paradise Lost. It also bears some affinities to Cain. In it the Archangel Lucifer rebels against God on learning the Divine intention to take on Himself the nature, not of Angels, but of Man. No doubt you will think me crazed to talk of such things, but they are all in black and white and good repute on the banks of every canal from Amsterdam to Alkmaar. Yours ever, B. My poesy is in the hands of its various publishers; but the Hints from Horace (to which I have subjoined some savage lines on Methodism,' and ferocious notes on the vanity of the triple Editory of the Edin. Annual Register), my Hints, I say, stand still, and why?—I have not a friend in the world (but you and Drury) who can construe Horace's Latin or my English well enough to adjust them for the press, or to correct the proofs in a grammatical way. So that, unless you have bowels when you return to town (I am too far off to do it for myself), this ineffable work will be lost to the world for-I don't know how many weeks. Childe Harold's Pilgrimage must wait till Murray's is finished. He is making a tour in Middlesex, and is to return soon, when high matter may be expected. He wants to have it in quarto, which is a cursed unsaleable size; but it is pestilent long, and one must obey one's bookseller. I trust Murray will pass the Paddington 1. Hints from Horace, lines 371-382. 2. The Edinburgh Annual Register (1808-26) was published by John Ballantyne and Co. The prospectus promised a general history of Europe; a collection of State papers; a chronicle of events; original essays on morality, literature, and science; and articles on biography, the useful arts, and meteorology. The Editor was Scott, and Southey was responsible for the historical department. The first two parts, giving the history of 1808, did not appear till July, 1810, and then with an editorial apology for the omission of the articles on biography, the useful arts, and meteorology; also with an explanation that the idea of original essays on morality, literature, and science had been abandoned. The venture, thus unfortunately launched, never succeeded. For Byron's attack, see Hints from Horace, line 657, and his note. 1811.] HODGSON GOING INTO ORDERS. 57 Canal without being seduced by Payne and Mackinlay's example, I say Payne and Mackinlay, supposing that the partnership held good. Drury, the villain, has not written to me; "I am never (as Mrs. Lumpkin 1 says to "Tony) to be gratified with the monster's dear wild "notes." 1 So you are going (going indeed !) into orders. You must make your peace with the Eclectic Reviewers-they accuse you of impiety, I fear, with injustice. Demetrius, the "Sieger of Cities," is here, with "Gilpin Horner." 2 The painter 3 is not necessary, as the portraits he already painted are (by anticipation) very like the new animals.— Write, and send me your "Love Song"-but I want paulo majora from you. Make a dash before you are a deacon, and try a dry publisher. Yours always, 199.-To R. C. Dallas. B. Oct. 14, 1811. DEAR SIR, Stanza 9th, for Canto 2nd, somewhat altered, to avoid recurrence in a former stanza. STANZA 9. There, thou! whose love and life together fled, 1. This is an obvious slip for "Mrs. Hardcastle," who, in She Stoops to Conquer (act ii.), says, "I'm never to be delighted with "your agreeable wild notes, unfeeling monster !" 2. Probably Demetrius, his Greek servant, whom he nicknames after Demetrius Poliorcetes, and Claridge, who had bored Byron during a long stay of three weeks. 3. Barber, whom he had brought down to Newstead to paint his wolf and his bear. Well-I will dream that we may meet again, And woo the vision to my vacant breast; or, Whate'er beside Futurity's behest ; Howe'er may be For me 'twere bliss enough to see thy spirit blest! I think it proper to state to you, that this stanza alludes to an event which has taken place since my arrival here, and not to the death of any male friend. Yours, B. 200.-To R. C. Dallas. Newstead Abbey, Oct. 16, 1811. I am on the wing for Cambridge. Thence, after a short stay, to London. Will you be good enough to keep an account of all the MSS. you receive, for fear of omission? Have you adopted the three altered stanzas of the latest proof? I can do nothing more with them. I am glad you like the new ones. Of the last, and of the two, I sent for a new edition, to-day a fresh note. The lines of the second sheet I fear must stand; I will give you reasons when we meet. Believe me, yours ever, BYRON. 201.-To R. C. Dallas. Cambridge, Oct. 25, 1811. DEAR SIR, I send you a conclusion to the whole. In a stanza towards the end of Canto I. in the line, Oh, known the earliest and beloved the most, |