untravelled requirements of English com-
forts, such as tea, &c., not a little amused
his master, and were frequently the sub-
ject of good-humoured jokes with him. An
instance of disinterested hospitality, in the
chief of a Suliote village, occurred to Lord
Byron in consequence of his disasters in
the Turkish galliot. The honest Albanian,
after assisting him in the distress in which
he found himself, supplying his wants,
and lodging him and his suite, consisting
of Fletcher, a Greek, two Athenians, a
Greek priest, and his companion, Mr. Hob-
house, refused to receive any remuneration;
and only asked him for a written acknow-
I Uf\ilVERSlTY
82 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
ledgment that he had been well-treated.
When Lord Byron pressed him to take
money, he said, " I wish you to love me,
not to pay me."
At Yanina, on his return, he was intro-
duced to Russian Bey and Mahmout Pacha,
two young grandchildren of Ali Pacha,
very unlike lads, having painted faces, large
black eyes, and regular features. They
were nevertheless very pretty, and already
instructed in all the court ceremonies.
Mahmout, the younger, and he were friends
without understanding each other, like a
great many other people, though for a diffe-
rent reason.
Lord Byron wrote several times to his
mother from Smyrna, from whence he went
in the Salsette frigate to Constantinople.
It was while this frigate was lying at an-
chor in the Dardanelles, that he swam from
Sestos to Abydos, — an exploit which he
seemed to have remembered ever after
LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 83
with very great pleasure, repeating it and
referring to it in no less than five of his
letters to his mother, and in the only two
letters he wrote to me while he was
away.
It was not until after Lord Byron arrived
at Constantinople that he decided not to go
on to Persia, but to pass the following
summer in the Morea. At Constantinople,
Mr. Hobhouse left him to return to Eng-
land, and by him he wrote to me and to
his mother. He meant also to have sent
back his man, Fletcher, with Mr. Hob-
house; as, however good a servant in
England, he found him an incumbrance in
his progress. Lord Byron had now tasted
the delights of travelling ; he had seen
much, both of country and of mankind; he
had neither been disappointed nor disgusted
with what he had met with ; and though he
had passed many a fatiguing, he had never
spent a tedious hour. This led him to
G 2
84 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
fear that these feehngs might excite in him
a gipsy-Uke wandering disposition, which
would make him uncomfortable at home,
knowing such to be frequently the case
with men in the habit of traveUing. He
had mixed with persons in all stations in
life had lived amongst the most splendid,
and sojourned with the poorest, and found
the people harmless and hospitable. He
had passed some time with the principal
Greeks in the Morea and Livadia, and he
classed them as inferior to the Turks, but
superior to the Spaniards, whom he placed
before the Portuguese. At Constantinople,
his judgment of Lady Mary Wortley was,
that she had not overstepped the truth near
so much as would have been done by any
other woman under similar circumstances ;
but he differed from her when she said
" St. Paul's would cut a strange figure by
St. Sophia's." He felt the great interest
which St. Sophia's possesses from various
LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 85
considerations, but he thought it by no
means equal to some of the Mosques, and
not to be written on the same leaf with
St. Paul's. According to his idea, the
Cathedral at Seville was superior to both,
or to any religious edifice he knew. He
was enchanted with the magnificence of
the walls of the city, and the beauty of the
Turkish burying grounds ; and he looked
with enthusiasm at the prospect on each
side from the Seven Towers, to the end of
the Golden Horn.
Â¥/hen Lord Byron had lost his companion
at Constantinople, he felt great satisfaction
at being once more alone ; for his nature
led him to solitude, and his disposition
towards it encreased daily. There were
many men there and in the Morea who
wished to join him; one to go to Asia,
another to Egypt. But he preferred
going alone over his old track, and to look
upon his old objects, the seas and the
86 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
mountains, the only acquaintances that
improved upon him. He was a good deal
annoyed at this juncture by the persevering
silence of his man of business, from whom
he had never once heard since his depar-
ture from England, in spite of the critical
situation of his affairs ; and yet, it is re-
markable with how much patience he bore
with circumstances, which certainly were
calculated to excite the anger of one of
less irritable disposition than his own.
Whether it were owing to his having
been left alone to his own reflections, or
whether it be merely attributable to the
uneven fluctuations of an unsettled mind,
it appears that Lord Byron's thoughts at
this time had some tendency towards a
recovery from the morbid state of moral
apathy which upon some important points
he had evinced. He felt the advantage
of looking at mankind in the original,
and not in the picture— of reading them-
LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 87
selves, instead of the account of them
in books ; he saw the disadvantageous re-
sults of remaining at home with the nar-
row prejudices of an islander, and wished
that the youth of our country were forced
by law to visit our allied neighbours.
He had conversed with French, Italians,
Germans, Danes, Greeks, Turks, Arme-
nians, &c. &c., and without losing sight
of his own nation, could form an estimate
of the countries and manners of others;
but, at the same time, he felt gratified
when he found that England was superior
in any thing. This shows the latent spark
of patriotism in his heart.
He wished when he returned to England
to lead a quiet and retired life ; in thinking
of which, his mind involuntarily acknow-
ledged that God knew, but arranged the
best for us alL This acknowledgment
seemed to call forth the remembrance of
his acquired infidelity ; and, for the sake of
88 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
consistency, he qualified it by giving it as
the general belief, and he had nothing to
oppose to such a doctrine, as upon the
whole he could not complain of his own
lot. He was convinced that mankind did
more harm to themselves than Satan could
do to them. These are singular assertions
for Lord Byron, and shew that, at that time
at least, his mind was in a state which
might have admitted of a different result
than that which unhappily followed.
I have already said, that Lord Byron
took no notes of his travels, and he did not
intend to publish any thing concerning
them ; but it is curious that, while he was
in Greece, he made a determination that
he would publish no more on any subject —
he would appear no more as an author —
he was quite satisfied, if by his Satire he
had shown to the critics and the world that
he was something above what they sup-
posed him to be, nor would he hazard the
LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 89
reputation that work might have procured
him by pubHshing again. He had, indeed,
other things by him, as the event proved ;
but he resolved, that if they were worth
giving to the pubhc, it should be posthu-
mously, that the remembrance of him might
be continued when he could no longer
remember.
Previous to his return to England, the
proposal to sell Newstead was renewed.
His mother again showed her feeling upon
the subject. His own feelings and deter-
minations were unchanged. If it was ne-
cessary that money should be procured by
the sale of land, he v^as willing to part with
Rochdale. He sent Fletcher to England
with papers to that effect. He, besides,
had no reliance on the funds; but the main
point of his objection to the proposal was,
that the only thing that bound him to Eng-
land was Newstead — if by any extraordi-
nary event he should be induced to part
90 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
with it, he was resolved to pass his Hfe
abroad. The expenses of Hving in the
East, with all the advantages of climate
and abundance of luxury, were trifling in
comparison with what was necessary for
competence in England. He was resolved
that Newstead should not be sold : he had
fixed upon the alternative — if Newstead
remained with him, he would come back —
if not, he never would.
Lord Byron returned to England in the
Volage frigate, on the 2d July, 1811, after
having been absent two years exactly to a
day. He experienced very similar feelings
of indifference in approaching its shores,
to those with which he had left them. His
health had not suffered, though it had been
interrupted by two sharp fevers ; he had,
however, put himself entirely upon a vege-
table diet, never taking either fish or flesh,
and drinkine: no wine.
LIFE OP LORD BYRON. 91
CHAPTER V.
RETURN TO ENGLAND-HINTS FROM HORACE—
HIS OPINION OF CHILDE HAROLD'S
PILGRIMAGE.
Early in July, 1811, I received a letter
from Lord Byron, written on board the
Volage frigate, at sea, on the 28th of June,
in which, after informing me of his ap-
proaching return, he shortly recapitulates
the principal countries he has travelled
through, and does not forget to mention
his swimming from Sestos to Abydos. He
expected little pleasure in coming home,
though he brought a spirit still unbroken.
He dreaded the trouble he should have to
encounter in the arrangement of his affairs.
His Satire was at that time in the fourth
92 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
edition ; and at that period, being able to
think and act more coolly, he affected to
feel sorry that he had written it. This
was, however, an immense sacrifice to a
vague sense of propriety, as is clear from
his having even then in his possession an
imitation of Horace's Art of Poetry, ready
for the press, which v/as nothing but a
continuation of the Satire ; and also from
the subsequent preparation of a fifth edi-
tion of the very work which he professed
to regret having written.
Lord Byron frequently exercised his wit
upon the subject of a young man of the
name of Blackett — so poor that he worked
in a garret, as a shoemaker, and did not
procure sufficient employment to make life
tolerably comfortable ; in spite of which he
married, and had children. In his unoccu-
pied hours he made verses as v/ell as shoes.
Some of these found their way into the hands
of Mr. Pratt, himself a successful writer,
LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 93
whose benevolence and enthusiasm always
equalled, and sometimes outstripped, his
judgment. He immediately saw latent
genius in those essays of an uneducated
man, sought him, became confirmed in the
opinion he had formed, and, doubly excited
by the miserable state in which he found
him, resolved to do him all the service that
his pen and influence could effect publicly
and privately. He collected a volume of
his writings sufficient to form the foundation
of a subscription, which soon became so
ample as to lower him from his attics.
Pratt then persuaded Mr. Elhston, the
actor, to be among his applauders and pro-
tectors. I remember hearing Mr. Elliston
speak of a dramatic production of Blackett's
with infinite ardour, and of the author as a
wonderful genius. I do not, however, think
that he ever produced the piece. Other
patrons and patronesses appeared ; and it is
a curious incident that one of the latter,
94 RECOLLECTIONS OP THE
then a perfect stranger to Lord Byron,
should afterwards become his wife. That
lady and her parents were very kind to
Blackett ; invited him, as I was informed,
to the country where their estates lie, and
accommodated him with a cottage to reside
in. The poor fellow's constitution, either
originally weak, or undermined by the
hardships of poverty, failed him at a very
early period of life. After some stay at
the cottage, he was advised to go and
breathe the air of his native place, though
situated more to the north. There, for a
short time, he comforted his mother, and
was comforted by her, and by the benevo-
lent attentions of several kind physicians.
Upon his death, Mr. Pratt collected all his
additional compositions ; and, adopting the
title which Mr. Southey had given to the
works of KiRKE White, published the whole
of his writings together as " The Remains
of Joseph Blackett," by which another con-
LIFE OP LORD BYRON. 95
siderable collection was made, and formed
into a fund for the support of Blackett's
surviving daughter.
Genius, we well know, is not the exclu-
sive inheritance of the affluent, but without
a considerable degree of education it has
not the means of displaying itself, especially
in poetry, where the flowers of language are
almost as essential as the visions of fancy.
Rhetoric and grammar are not necessary
in mechanics and mathematics, but they
must be possessed by the Poet, whose
title to genius may be overturned by the
confusion of metaphors and the incongrui-
ties of tropes. I believe all the Poets of
low origin partook, more or less, of the ad-
vantages of education. The last of these
was Kirke White, whose learning and piety,
however, I always thought far superior to
his poetical nerve. Blackett was deficient
in common learning. I had more pleasure
in observing the improvement of his condi-
96 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
tion than in the perusal of his writings ;
though, in spite of the ridicule of Lord
Byron, and my Ionian friend, as Lord
Byron called Waller Wright, I saw, or was
persuaded by Mr. Pratt's warmth to see,
some sparkling of genius in the effusions
of this young man. It was upon this that
Lord Byron and a young friend of his were
sometimes playful in conversation ; and, in
writing to me, " I see," says the latter,
" that Blackett the Son of Crispin and
Apollo is dead. Looking into Boswell's
Life of Johnson the other day, I saw, ' We
were talking about the famous Mr. Words-
worth, the poetical Shoemaker ;' — Now, I
never before heard that there had been a
Mr. Wordsworth a Poet, a Shoemaker, or
a famous man ; and I dare say you have
never heard of him. Thus it will be with
Bloomfield and Blackett — their names two
years after their death will be found neither
on the rolls of Curriers' Hall nor of Par-
LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 97
nassus. Who would think that any body-
would be such a blockhead as to sin
against an express proverb, ' Ne sutor ultra
crepidam !'
But spare him, ye Critics, his follies are past.
For the Cobler is come, as he ought, to his last.
Which two lines, with a scratch under last,
to shew where the joke lies, I beg that you
will prevail on Miss Milbank to have in-
serted on the tomb of her departed Black-
ett." In my reply, I said, *' With respect
to Blackett, whatever you may think of
his presumption in attempting to ascend
Parnassus, you cannot blame him for de-
scending from a garret to a drawing-room ;
for changing starvation and misery for good
food and flattering attention ; an unwilling
apothecary, for physicians rivalling one ano-
ther in solicitude and disinterested atten-
dance ; which change, I can assure you, is
nothing more than literal truth." This pro-
duced the following rejoinder; " You seem
98 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
to me to put Blackett's case quite in the
right hght:— to be sure any one would rise
if he could, and any one has a right to make
the effort ; but then any one, on the other
hand, has a right to keep the aspirant down,
if he thinks the man's pretensions ill-founded.
I do not laugh at Blackett, but at those
who flattered him. He, poor fellow, was
perfectly right, if he could find protectors,
to gain them, either by verse-making or
shoe-making. Indeed, he was right in try-
ing the former, as by far the most easy
and expeditious of the two. Were a re-
gular bred author, a gentleman of educa-
tion, to write like them, their verses would
not be tolerated. But every one is in a
stare of admiration that a cobler or a tinker
should be able to rhyme at all. We gaze
at them, not at their poetry, which is like
the crabs found in the heart of a rock :
' The thing we know is neither ricli nor rare,
But wonder how the devil it got there.'
LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 99
Some applaud the prodigy out of sheer bad
taste ; they do not know that his nonsense
is nonsense ; others out of pure humanity
and goodness of heart. The first are such
people as Pratt and Capel Lofft: the se-
cond, such critics as yourself, my dear Sir.
But this is, as I said before, a piece of in-
justice to men of education, who may sweat,
strain, and labour, and, when they have
done their best, hear their own qualifica-
tions quoted against them:— The world
says, ' Mr. ought to have known
better — I wonder a man of his education
should fail so wretchedly.' You must not
bring G * * against me, nor a much greater
man, Burns, because the one was a cobler,
and the other a ploughman : for, reading
their verses, we never think of the poet ; no,
we only are intent upon and admire the
poetry, which would have delighted us had
it been written by Dryden, or Gay, or any
other great name. In the other case, we
H 2
100 RECOLLECTIONS OP THE
ought to content ourselves with saying,
' There goes a wonderful cobler.' It is folly
and falsehood to say, ' Look at that poet,
he was a cobler once.' It is very true that
he was a cobler once ; but it is not true
that he is a poet now. Shall I tell you,
however, to what the reputation of this
sort of men is owing? Doubtless it is to
the vanity of those who choose to set up
for patrons, and who, because men of sense
and character would scorn their protection,
look out for little sparklings of talent in
the depth and darkness of cellars and stalls,
and having popped upon something to their
mind, stamp it with their own seal of merit
to pass current with the world. You know
a man of true genius will not suffer himself
to be patronized ; but a patron is the life
and soul and existence of your surprising
fellows. The only legitimate patron is the
respectable bookseller, and he will not take
a cobler's verses, unless they are brought
LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 101
to him by some Maecenas who will promise
to run all risks."
Upon receiving Lord Byron's letter from
on-board the Volage, I wrote him the fol-
lowing ; —
" I called this morning at Reddish's
Hotel, with the hope of hearing something
of you, since which your letter, written at
sea, has been dehvered to me. On Monday
I trust I shall have the pleasure of wel-
coming you in person back to England. I
hope you will find more pleasure in it than
you seem to promise yourself. I pity
you indeed for the bustle that awaits you
in the arrangement of your affairs. I
wish you would allow me to recommend
to you a gentleman whom I have long
known ; a man of the strictest honour ; a
man of business; and one of the best
102 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
acountants in the kingdom. He would, I
am confident, save you a world of trouble
and a world of money. I know how much
he has done for others, who, but for him,
would have been destroyed by the harpies
of extortion. I will tell you more of him
when we meet, unless you should think I
have already taken sufficient liberty, in
which case I should only beg you to forget
it for the sake of my intention. I rejoice
to hear that you are prepared for the press.
I hope to have you in prose as well as verse
by and by. You will find your Satire not
forgotten by the public : it is going fast
through its fourth edition, and I cannot call
that a middling run. Some letters have
passed between Hobhouse and me. His
account of my son was truly gratifying to
me. He is a fortunate lad. I wish you
had touched at Cadiz, in your way home.
George Byron and he I find are in corre-
spondence."
LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 103
On the 15th of July I had the pleasure
of shaking hands with him at Reddish's
Hotel, in St. James's-street. I thought his
looks belied the report he had given me of
his bodily health, and his countenance did
not betoken melancholy, or displeasure at
his return. He was very animated in the
account of his travels, but assured me he
had never had the least idea of writing them.
He said he believed satire to be his forte,
and to that he had adhered, having written,
during his stay at different places abroad,
a paraphrase of Horace's Art of Poetry,
which would be a good finish to English
Bards and Scotch Reviewers ; forgetting the
regret which, in his last letter, he had ex-
pressed to me for having written it. He
seemed to promise himself additional fame
from it, and I undertook to superintend its
pubhcation, as I had done that of the
Satire. I had chosen the hour ill for my
visit, and we had hardly any time to con-
104 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
verse uninterruptedly ; he therefore engaged
me to breakfast with him the next morning.
In the mean time I looked over the Para-
phrase, which I had taken home with me,
and I must say I was grievously disap-
pointed. Not that the verse was bad, or
the images of the Roman poet badly
adapted to the times ; but a muse much
inferior to his might have produced them in
the smoky atmosphere of London, whereas
he had been roaming under the cloudless
skies of Greece, on sites where every step
he took might have set such a fancy as his
" in fine phrenzies rolling." But the poem
was his, and the affection he had acquired
in my heart was undiminished.
The following lines are inserted as a fair
specimen of it. It began thus : —
*' Who would not laugh, if Lawkence, hirM to grace
His costly canvass with each flatter''d face,
Abus'd his art, till Nature with a blush
Saw Cits grow Centaurs underneath his brush ?
LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 105
Or should some limner join, for show or sale,
A maid of honour to a mermaid's taU ;
Or low D*** (as once the world has seen)
Degrade God's creature's in his graphic spleen —
Not all that forced politeness which defends
Fools in their faults, could gag his grinning friends.
Believe me, Moschus, like that picture seems
The book which, sillier than a sick man's dreams,
Displays a crowd of figures incomplete.
Poetic night-mares without head or feet.
Poets and painters, as all artists know.
May shoot a little with a length en'd bow ;
We claim this mutual mercy for our task.
And grant in turn the pardon which we ask;
But make not monsters spring from gentle dams-
Birds breed not vipers, tigers nurse not lambs.
A laboured long exordium sometimes tends
(Like patriot speeches) but to paltry ends ;
And nonsense in a lofty note goes down,
As pertness passes with a legal gown :
Thus many a bard describes in pompous strain
The clear brook babbling through the goodly plain ;
The groves of Granta, and her Gothic halls,
King's Coll. — Cam's stream — stain'd windows, and old
walls ;
106 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Or in adventVous numbers neatly aims
To paint a rainbow^ or — the river Thames*,
You sketch a trecj and so perhaps may shine ;
But daub a shipwreck hke an alehouse sign :
Why place a Vase, which dwindhng to a Pox,
You glide down Grub-street, fasting and forgot ?
Laughed into Lethe by some quaint review.
Whose wit is never troublesome — till true.
In fine, to whatsoever you aspire,
Let it at least be simple and entire.
The greater portion of the rhyming tribe
(Give ear, my friend, for thou hast been a scribe)
Are led astray by some peculiar lure ;
I labour to be brief — become obscure :
One feeds while following elegance too fast ;
Another soars — inflated with bombast :
Too low a third crawls on — afraid to fly.
He spins his subject to satiety ;
Absurdly varying, he at last engraves
Fish in the woods;, and boars beneath the waves !
Unless your care's exact, your judgment nice.
The flight from folly leads but into vice :
None are complete, all wanting in some part.
Like certain tailors, hmited in art —
* " Where pure description holds tlie place of sense."— Pope.
LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 107
For coat and waistcoat Slowshears is your man ;
But breeches claim another artisan *, —
Now this to me, I own, seems much the same
As Vulcan's feet to bear Apollo's frame ;
Or, with a fair complexion, to expose
Black eyes, black ringlets, and a bottle nose !
Dear authors ! suit your topics to your strength,
And ponder well your subject and its length ;
Nor lift your load until you're quite aware
What weight your shoulders will or will not bear :
But lucid Order and Wit's siren voice
Await the poet skilful in his choice ;
With native eloquence he soars along,