November 23rd, 1813
Ward—I like Ward. By Mahomet! I begin to think I like every body;—a disposition not to be encouraged;— a sort of social gluttony that swallows every thing set before it. But I like Ward. He is
piquant
; and, in my opinion, will stand very
high
in the House, and every where else, if he applies
regularly
. By the by, I dine with him to-morrow, which may have some influence on my opinion. It is as well not to trust one's gratitude
after
dinner. I have heard many a host libelled by his guests, with his burgundy yet reeking on their rascally lips.
I have taken Lord Salisbury's box at Covent Garden for the season; and now I must go and prepare to join Lady Holland and party, in theirs, at Drury Lane,
questa sera
.
Holland doesn't think the man is
Junius
; but that the yet unpublished journal throws great light on the obscurities of that part of George the Second's reign.—What is this to George the Third's? I don't know what to think. Why should Junius be yet dead? If suddenly apoplexed, would he rest in his grave without sending his
Greek: eidolon
to shout in the ears of posterity, "Junius was X.Y.Z., Esq., buried in the parish of ——. Repair his monument, ye churchwardens! Print a new edition of his Letters, ye booksellers!" Impossible,—the man must be alive, and will never die without the disclosure. I like him;— he was a good hater.
Came home unwell and went to bed,—not so sleepy as might be desirable.
Tuesday morning. I awoke from a dream!—well! and have not others dreamed?—Such a dream!—but she did not overtake me. I wish the dead would rest, however. Ugh! how my blood chilled,—and I could not wake—and—and— heigho!
"Shadows to-night
Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard,
Than could the substance of ten thousand —— s,
Arm'd all in proof, and led by shallow ——."
1
I do not like this dream,—I hate its "foregone conclusion." And am I to be shaken by shadows? Ay, when they remind us of—no matter—but, if I dream thus again, I will try whether
all
sleep has the like visions.
Since
I rose, I've been in considerable bodily pain also; but it is gone, and now, like Lord Ogleby
, I am wound up for the day.
A
note
from Mountnorris
—I dine with Ward;—Canning is to be there, Frere
and Sharpe
, perhaps Gifford. I am to be one of "the five" (or rather six), as Lady —— said a little sneeringly yesterday. They are all good to meet, particularly Canning, and—Ward, when he likes. I wish I may be well enough to listen to these intellectuals.
No letters to-day;—so much the better,—there are no answers. I must not dream again;—it spoils even reality. I will go out of doors, and see what the fog will do for me.
Jackson
has been here: the boxing world much as usual;—but the club increases. I shall dine at Crib's
to-morrow. I like energy—even animal energy—of all kinds; and I have need of both mental and corporeal. I have not dined out, nor, indeed,
at all
, lately: have heard no music—have seen nobody. Now for a
plunge
—high life and low life.
Amant
alterna
Camoenæ!
.
I have burnt my
Roman
—as I did the first scenes and sketch of my comedy—and, for aught I see, the pleasure of burning is quite as great as that of printing. These two last would not have done. I ran into
realities
more than ever; and some would have been recognised and others guessed at.
Redde
the
Ruminator
—a collection of Essays, by a strange, but able, old man [Sir Egerton Brydges]
, and a half-wild young one, author of a poem on the Highlands, called
Childe Alarique
.
The word "sensibility" (always my aversion) occurs a thousand times in these Essays; and, it seems, is to be an excuse for all kinds of discontent. This young man can know nothing of life; and, if he cherishes the disposition which runs through his papers, will become useless, and, perhaps, not even a poet, after all, which he seems determined to be. God help him! no one should be a rhymer who could be any thing better. And this is what annoys one, to see Scott and Moore, and Campbell and Rogers, who might have all been agents and leaders, now mere spectators. For, though they may have other ostensible avocations, these last are reduced to a secondary consideration. ——, too, frittering away his time among dowagers and unmarried girls. If it advanced any
serious
affair, it were some excuse; but, with the unmarried, that is a hazardous speculation, and tiresome enough, too; and, with the veterans, it is not much worth trying, unless, perhaps, one in a thousand.
If I
had
any views in this country, they would probably be parliamentary
.
But I have no ambition; at least, if any, it would be
aut Cæsar aut nihil
. My hopes are limited to the arrangement of my affairs, and settling either in Italy or the East (rather the last), and drinking deep of the languages and literature of both. Past events have unnerved me; and all I can now do is to make life an amusement, and look on while others play. After all, even the highest game of crowns and sceptres, what is it?
Vide
Napoleon's last twelvemonth. It has completely upset my system of fatalism. I
thought
, if crushed, he would have fallen, when
fractus illabitur orbis
, and not have been pared away to gradual insignificance; that all this was not a mere
jeu
of the gods, but a prelude to greater changes and mightier events. But men never advance beyond a certain point; and here we are, retrograding, to the dull, stupid old system,—balance of Europe—poising straws upon kings' noses, instead of wringing them off! Give me a republic, or a despotism of one, rather than the mixed government of one, two, three. A republic!—look in the history of the Earth—Rome, Greece, Venice, France, Holland, America, our short (
eheu!
) Commonwealth, and compare it with what they did under masters. The Asiatics are not qualified to be republicans, but they have the liberty of demolishing despots, which is the next thing to it. To be the first man—not the Dictator—not the Sylla, but the Washington or the Aristides—the leader in talent and truth—is next to the Divinity! Franklin, Penn, and, next to these, either Brutus or Cassius—even Mirabeau—or St. Just. I shall never be any thing, or rather always be nothing. The most I can hope is, that some will say, "He might, perhaps, if he would."
12, midnight.
Here are two confounded proofs from the printer. I have looked at the one, but for the soul of me, I can't look over that
Giaour
again,—at least, just now, and at this hour—and yet there is no moon.
Ward talks of going to Holland, and we have partly discussed an
ensemble
expedition. It must be in ten days, if at all, if we wish to be in at the Revolution. And why not? —— is distant, and will be at ——, still more distant, till spring. No one else, except Augusta, cares for me; no ties—no trammels—
andiamo dunque—se torniamo, bene—se non, ch' importa?
Old William of Orange talked of dying in "the last ditch" of his dingy country. It is lucky I can swim, or I suppose I should not well weather the first. But let us see. I have heard hyeenas and jackalls in the ruins of Asia; and bull-frogs in the marshes; besides wolves and angry Mussulmans. Now, I should like to listen to the shout of a free Dutchman.
Alla! Viva! For ever! Hourra! Huzza!—which is the most rational or musical of these cries? "Orange Boven," according to the
Morning Post
.
Footnote 1:
"By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night
Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard
Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers,
Armed in proof, and led by shallow Richmond."
Richard III
., act v. sc. 3.
Footnote 2:
"Lord Ogleby" is a character in
The Clandestine Marriage
(by Colman and Garrick, first acted at Drury Lane, February 20, 1766). "Brush," his valet, says (act ii.) of his master,
"What with qualms, age, rheumatism, and a few surfeits in his youth, he must have a great deal of brushing, oyling, screwing, and winding up, to set him a-going for the day."
Footnote 3:
Viscount Valentia, created in 1793 Earl of Mountnorris, was the father of Byron's friend, Viscount Valentia (afterwards second and last Earl of Mountnorris, died in 1844); of Lady Frances Wedderburn Webster; of Lady Catherine Annesley, who married Lord John Somerset, and died in 1865; and of Lady Juliana Annesley, who married Robert Bayly, of Ballyduff.
Footnote 4:
John Hookham Frere (1769-1846), educated at Eton, and Caius College, Cambridge (Fellow, 1792), M.P. for West Loe (1796-1802), was a clerk in the Foreign Office. A school-friend of Canning, he joined with him in the
Anti-Jacobin
(November 20, 1797—July 9, 1798). Among the pieces which he contributed, in whole or part, are "The Loves of the Triangles," "The Friend of Humanity and the Knife-grinder,""The Rovers, or the Double Arrangement," "
La Sainte Guillotine
" "New Morality," and the "Meeting of the Friends of Freedom." He was British Envoy at Lisbon (1800-1804) and to the Spanish Junta (October, 1808-April, 1809). From this post he was recalled, owing to the fatal effects of his advice to Sir John Moore, and he never again held any public appointment. From 1818 to 1846 he lived at Malta, where he died.
His translations of "The Frogs" of Aristophanes (1839), and of "The Acharnians, the Knights, and the Birds" (1840), are masterpieces of spirit and fidelity. His
Prospectus and Specimen of an intended National Work, by William and Robert Whistlecraft
(cantos i., ii., 1817; cantos iii., iv., 1818), inspired Byron with
Beppo
.
Ticknor describes him in 1819 (
Life
, vol. i. p. 267):
"Frere is a slovenly fellow. His remarks on Homer, in the Classical Journal, prove how fine a Greek scholar he is; his Quarterly Reviews, how well he writes; his 'Rovers, or the Double Arrangement,' what humour he possesses; and the reputation he has left in Spain and Portugal, how much better he understood their literatures than they do themselves; while, at the same time, his books left in France, in Gallicia, at Lisbon, and two or three places in England; his manuscripts, neglected and lost to himself; his manners, lazy and careless; and his conversation, equally rich and negligent, show how little he cares about all that distinguishes him in the eyes of the world. He studies as a luxury, he writes as an amusement, and conversation is a kind of sensual enjoyment to him. If he had been born in Asia, he would have been the laziest man that ever lived."
Footnote 5:
For "Conversation" Sharp, see p. 341,
2.
Footnote 6:
Thomas Cribb (1781-1848), born at Bitton, near Bristol, began life as a bell-hanger, became first a coal-porter, then a sailor, and finally found his vocation as a pugilist. In his profession he was known, from one of his previous callings, as the "Black Diamond." His first big fight was against George Maddox (January 7, 1805), whom he defeated after seventy-six rounds. He twice beat the ex-champion, the one-eyed Jem Belcher (April 8, 1807, and February 1, 1809), and with his victory over Bob Gregson (October 25, 1808; see
Letters
, vol. i. p. 207,
note
1 [Footnote 2 of Letter 108]) became champion of England. His two defeats of Molineaux, the black pugilist (December 18, 1810, and September 28, 1811), established his title, which was never again seriously challenged, and in 1821 it was conferred upon him for life. Cribb was one of the prize-fighters, who, dressed as pages, kept order at the Coronation of George IV. In 1813 he was landlord of the King's Arms, Duke Street, St. James's, and universally respected as the honest head of the pugilistic profession. He died in 1848 at Woolwich; three years later a monument was erected to his memory by public subscription in Woolwich Churchyard. It represents "a British lion grieving over the ashes of a British hero," and on the plinth is the inscription, "Respect the ashes of the brave."
Footnote 7:
Virgil,
Eclogues
, iii. 59.
Footnote 8:
Sir Samuel Egerton Brydges (1762-1837), poet, novelist, genealogist, and bibliographer, published, in 1813,
The Ruminator: containing a series of moral, critical, and sentimental Essays
. Of the 104 Essays, 72 appeared in the
Censura Literaria
between January, 1807, and June, 1809. The remainder were by Gillies, except two by the Rev. Francis Wrangham and two by the Rev. Montagu Pennington. No. 50 is a review of some original poems by Capell Lofft, including a Greek ode on Eton College.
Gillies, in his
Memoirs of a Literary Veteran
(vol. ii. p. 4), says that in 1809 he addressed an anonymous letter to Brydges, containing some thoughts on the advantages of retirement (the subject of
Childe Alarique
). The letter, printed in
The Ruminator
, began his literary career and introduced him to Brydges.
The Ruminator
, 2 vols. (1813), and
Childe Alarique
(1813), are among the books included in the sale catalogue of Byron's books, April 5, 1816.
Footnote 9:
Robert Pearse Gillies (1788-1858) wrote
Wallace, a Fragment
(1813);
Childe Alarique, a Poet's Reverie, with other Poems
(1813);
Confessions of Sir Henry Longueville, a Novel
(1814); and numerous other works and translations. His
Memoirs of a Literary Veteran
was published in 1851. He was the founder and first editor of the
Foreign Quarterly Review
(1827).
Footnote 10:
The following additional notes on Byron's Parliamentary career are taken from his
Detached Thoughts
:
"At the Opposition meeting of the peers, in 1812, at Lord Grenville's, when Lord Grey and he read to us the correspondence upon Moira's negociation, I sate next to the present Duke of Grafton. When it was over, I turned to him and said, 'What is to be done next?' 'Wake the Duke of Norfolk' (who was snoring away near us), replied he. 'I don't think the Negociators have left anything else for us to do this turn.'"
"In the debate, or rather discussion, afterwards, in the House of Lords, upon that very question, I sate immediately behind Lord Moira, who was extremely annoyed at G.'s speech upon the subject, and while G. was speaking, turned round to me repeatedly and asked me whether I agreed with him? It was an awkward question to me, who had not heard both sides. Moira kept repeating to me, 'It was not so, it was so and so,' etc. I did not know very well what to think, but I sympathized with the acuteness of his feelings upon the subject."
"Lord Eldon affects an Imitation of two very different Chancellors—Thurlow and Loughborough—and can indulge in an oath now and then. On one of the debates on the Catholic question, when we were either equal or within one (I forget which), I had been sent for in great haste from a Ball, which I quitted, I confess somewhat reluctantly, to emancipate five Millions of people. I came in late, and did not go immediately into the body of the house, but stood just behind the Woolsack. Eldon turned round, and, catching my eye, immediately said to a peer (who had come to him for a few minutes on the Woolsack, as is the custom of his friends), 'Damn them! they'll have it now, by God!—the vote that is just come in will give it them.'"
Footnote 11:
Horace,
Odes
, III. iii. 7.
