162 — To R. C. Dallas
Newstead Abbey, Notts., August 12, 1811.
Peace be with the dead! Regret cannot wake them. With a sigh to the departed, let us resume the dull business of life, in the certainty that we also shall have our repose. Besides her who gave me being, I have lost more than one who made that being tolerable. — The best friend of my friend Hobhouse, Matthews, a man of the first talents, and also not the worst of my narrow circle, has perished miserably in the muddy waves of the Cam, always fatal to genius:— my poor school-fellow, Wingfield, at Coimbra — within a month; and whilst I had heard from
all three,
but not seen
one.
Matthews wrote to me the very day before his death; and though I feel for his fate,
I
am still more anxious for Hobhouse, who, I very much fear, will hardly retain his senses: his letters to me since the event have been most incoherent
. But let this pass; we shall all one day pass along with the rest — the world is too full of such things, and our very sorrow is selfish.
I
received a letter from you, which my late occupations prevented me from duly noticing
. — I hope your friends and family will long hold together. I shall be glad to hear from you, on business, on commonplace, or any thing, or nothing — but death — I am already too familiar with the dead. It is strange that I look on the skulls which stand beside me (I have always had
four
in my study) without emotion, but I cannot strip the features of those I have known of their fleshy covering, even in idea, without a hideous sensation; but the worms are less ceremonious. — Surely, the Romans did well when they burned the dead. — I shall be happy to hear from you, and am,
Yours, etc.
Footnote 1:
"Just," writes Hobhouse to Byron, in an undated letter from Dover, "as I was preparing to condole with you on your severe misfortune, an event has taken place, the details of which you will find in the enclosed letter from S. Davies. I am totally unable to say one word on the subject. He was my oldest friend, and, though quite unworthy of his attachment, I believe that I was an object of his regard.
"I now fear that I have not been sufficiently at all times just and kind to him. Return me this fatal letter, and pray add, if it is but one line, a few words of your own."
A second letter, dated August 8, 1811, is as follows:—
"My Dear Byron, — To-morrow morning we sail for Cork. It is with difficulty I bring myself to talk of my paltry concerns, but I cannot refuse giving you such information as may enable me to hear from one of the friends that I have still left. Pray do give me a line; nothing is more selfish than sorrow. His great and unrivalled talents were observable by all, his kindness was known to his friends. You recollect how affectionately he shook my hand at parting. It was the last time you ever saw him — did you think it would be the last? But three days before his death he told me in a letter that he had heard from you. On Friday he wrote to me again, and on Saturday — alas, alas! we are not stocks or stones, — every word of our friend Davies' letter still pierces me to the soul — such a man and such a death! I would that he had not been so minute in his horrid details. Oh, my dear Byron, do write to me; I am very, very sick at heart indeed, and, after various efforts to write upon my own concerns, I still revert to the same melancholy subject. I wrote to Cawthorn to-day, but knew not what I said to him; half my incitement to finish that task is for ever gone. I can neither have his assistance during my labour, his comfort if I should fail, nor his congratulation if I should succeed. Forgive me, I do not forget you — but I cannot but remember him.
Ever your obliged and faithful, John C. Hobhouse."
Byron had apparently suggested that Hobhouse should write some brief record of his friend. Hobhouse replies from Enniscorthy, September 13, 1811:—
"The melancholy subject of your last, in spite of every effort, perpetually recurs to me. It is indeed a hard science to forget, though I cannot but think that it is the wisest and indeed the only remedy for grief. I should be quite incapable every way of doing what you mention, and I could not even set about such a melancholy task with spirit or prospect of success. The thing may be better done by a person less interested than myself in so cruel a catastrophe. Whatever you say in your book will be well said, and do credit both to your heart and head; how much would it have gratified him who shall ne'er hear it!"
Footnote 2:
Dallas had written on July 29 to protest, on six grounds which he gives (
Correspondence of Lord Byron
, pp. 151-153), "against the sceptical stanzas" of
Childe Harold
.
