172—to R. C. Dallas 1
Newstead Abbey, Aug. 27, 1811.
I was so sincere in my note on the late Charles Matthews, and do feel myself so totally unable to do justice to his talents, that the passage must stand for the very reason you bring against it. To him all the men I ever knew were pigmies. He was an intellectual giant.
It is true I loved Wingfield 2 better; he was the earliest and the dearest, and one of the few one could never repent of having loved: but in ability—ah! you did not know Matthews!
Childe Harold may wait and welcome—books are never the worse for delay in the publication.
So you have got our heir, George Anson Byron 3 , and his sister, with you.
You may say what you please, but you are one of the murderers of Blackett, and yet you won't allow Harry White's genius 4 .
Setting aside his bigotry, he surely ranks next Chatterton. It is astonishing how little he was known; and at Cambridge no one thought or heard of such a man till his death rendered all notice useless. For my own part, I should have been most proud of such an acquaintance: his very prejudices were respectable.
There is a sucking epic poet at Granta, a Mr. Townsend 5 , protégé of the late Cumberland. Did you ever hear of him and his Armageddon? I think his plan (the man I don't know) borders on the sublime: though, perhaps, the anticipation of the "Last Day" (according to you Nazarenes) is a little too daring: at least, it looks like telling the Lord what he is to do, and might remind an ill-natured person of the line,
"And fools rush in where angels fear to tread."
But I don't mean to cavil, only other folks will, and he may bring all the lambs of Jacob Behmen about his ears. However, I hope he will bring it to a conclusion, though Milton is in his way.
Write to me—I dote on gossip—and make a bow to Ju—, and shake George by the hand for me; but, take care, for he has a sad sea paw.
P.S.—I would ask George here, but I don't know how to amuse him—all my horses were sold when I left England, and I have not had time to replace them. Nevertheless, if he will come down and shoot in September, he will be very welcome: but he must bring a gun, for I gave away all mine to Ali Pacha, and other Turks. Dogs, a keeper, and plenty of game, with a very large manor, I have—a lake, a boat, houseroom, and neat wines.
Footnote 1:
Dallas, writing to Byron, August 18, 1811, had said,
"I have been reading the Remains of Kirke White, and find that you have to answer for misleading me. He does not, in my opinion, merit the high praise you have bestowed upon him."
Writing again, August 26, he objected to the note on Matthews in Childe Harold:
"In your note, as it stands, it strikes me that the eulogy on Matthews is a little at the expense of Wingfield and others whom you have commemorated. I should think it quite enough to say that his Powers and Attainments were above all praise, without expressly admitting them to be above that of a Muse who soars high in the praise of others."
Footnote 2:
For Wingfield, see Letters, vol. i, p. 180, note 1. [Footnote 2 of Letter 92]
Footnote 3:
For George Anson Byron, afterwards Lord Byron, and his sister Julia, see Letters, vol. i, p. 188, note 1. [Footnote 1 of Letter 96]
Footnote 4:
For H. K. White, see Letters, vol. i, p. 336, note 2. [Footnote 3 of Letter 167]
Footnote 5:
The Rev. George Townsend (1788-1857) of Trinity College, Cambridge, published Poems in 1810, and eight books of his Armageddon in 1815. The remaining four books were never published. Townsend became a Canon of Durham in 1825, and held the stall till his death in 1857. Richard Cumberland, dramatist, novelist, and essayist (1732-1811), the "Sir Fretful Plagiary" of The Critic, announced the forthcoming poem in the London Review; but, as Townsend says, in the Preface to Armageddon, praised him "too abundantly and prematurely." "My talents," he adds, "were neither equal to my own ambition, nor his zeal to serve me." (See Hints from Horace, lines 191-212, and Byron's note to line 191, Poems, ed. 1898, vol. i. p. 403.)
