P.S.--Since we met, I have reduced myself by violent exercise, _much_ physic, and _hot_ bathing, from 14 stone 6 lb. to 12 stone 7 lb. In all I have lost 27 pounds. [1] Bravo!--what say you?
[Footnote 1: The following extract is taken from a ledger in the possession of Messrs. Merry, of St. James"s Street, S.W.:--
"1806--January 4. Lord Byron (boots, no hat) 13 stone 12 lbs 1807--July 8. Lord Byron (shoes) 10 stone 13 lbs 1807--July 23. Lord Byron (shoes) 11 stone 0 lbs 1807--August 13. Lord Byron (shoes) 10 stone 11-1/2 lbs 1808--May 27. Lord Byron (shoes) 11 stone 1 lbs 1809--June 10. Lord Byron (shoes) 11 stone 5-3/4 lbs 1811--July 15. Lord Byron (shoes) 9 stone 11-1/2 lbs"]
72.--To John Hanson.
[6, Chancery Lane, Temple Bar, London.]
Southwell, 19 April, 1807.
Sir,--My last was an Epistle "_entre nous_;" _this_ is a _Letter_ of _Business_, Of course the _formalities_ of _official communication_ must be attended to. From lying under pecuniary difficulties, I shall draw for the Quarter due the 25th June, in a short Time. You will recollect I was to receive 100 for the Expence of Furniture, etc., at Cambridge. I placed in your possession accounts to amount and then I have received 70, for which I believe you have my Receipt. This extra 25 or 30 (though the Bills are long ago discharged from my own purse) I should not have troubled you for, had not my present Situation rendered even that Trifle of some Consequence. I have therefore to request that my Draft for 150, instead of 125 the simple Quarter, may be honoured, but think it necessary to apprize you previous to its appearance, and indeed to request an early Answer, as I had one Draft returned by Mistake from your _House_, some Months past. I have no Inclination to be placed in a similar Dilemma.
I lent Mrs. B. _60_ last year; of this I have never received a Sou and in all probability never shall. I do not mention the circ.u.mstance as any Reproach on that worthy and lamblike Dame, [1] but merely to show you how affairs stand. "Tis true myself and two Servants lodge in the House, but my Horses, etc., and their expences are defrayed by your humble Sert. I quit Cambridge in July, and shall have considerable payments to make at that period; for this purpose I must sell my _Steeds_. I paid Jones in January 150, 38 to my Stable Keeper, 21 to my wine Merchant, 20 to a _Lawyer_ for the prosecution of a Scoundrel, a late Servant. In short I have done all I can, but am now completely _done_ up.
Your answer will oblige
Yours, etc., etc.,
BYRON.
[Footnote 1: Mrs. Byron, on the other hand, tells a different story.
"Lord Byron," she writes to Hanson (March 19, 1807), "has now been with me seven months, with two Men Servants, for which I have never received one farthing, as he requires the five hundred a year for himself. Therefore it is impossible I can keep him and them out of my small income of four hundred a year,--two in Scotland [Mrs. Gordon of Gight (see Chapter I. p. 4) was dead], and the pension is now reduced to two hundred a year. But if the Court allows the additional two hundred, I shall be perfectly satisfied.
"I do not know what to say about Byron"s returning to Cambridge. When he was there, I believe he did nothing but drink, gamble, and spend money."
A month later (April 29, 1807), she consults Hanson about raising 1000 by a loan from Mrs. Parkyns on her security.
"Byron from their last letter gave up all hopes of getting the money, and behaved very well on the occasion, and proposed selling his Horses and plans of OEconomy that I much fear will be laid aside if the Money is procured. My only motive for wishing it was to keep him clear of the Jews; but at present he does not seem at all disposed to have anything to do with them, even if he is disappointed in this resource.
I wish to act for the best: but G.o.d knows what is for the best."
Eventually money was provided on Mrs. Byron"s security (see Letters of March 6 [Letter 117] and April 26 [Letter 121], 1809), and he resided at Trinity for a few days at the end of the May term, 1807.
73.--To Elizabeth Bridget Pigot.
June 11, 1807.
Dear Queen Bess,--_Savage_ ought to be _immortal_:--though not a _thorough-bred bull-dog_, he is the finest puppy I ever _saw_, and will answer much better; in his great and manifold kindness he has already bitten my fingers, and disturbed the _gravity_ of old Boatswain, who is _grievously discomposed_. I wish to be informed what he _costs_, his _expenses_, etc., etc., that I may indemnify Mr.
G----. My thanks are _all_ I can give for the trouble he has taken, make a _long speech_, and conclude it with 1 2 3 4 5 6 7. [1] I am out of practice, so _deputize_ you as a legate,--_amba.s.sador_ would not do in a matter concerning the _Pope_, which I presume this must, as the _whole_ turns upon a _Bull_.
Yours,
BYRON.
P.S.--I write in bed.
[Footnote 1: He here alludes to an odd fancy or trick of his own; --whenever he was at a loss for something to say, he used always to gabble over "1 2 3 4 5 6 7" (Moore).]
74.--To Elizabeth Bridget Pigot.
Cambridge, June 30, 1807.
"Better late than never, Pal," [1] is a saying of which you know the origin, and as it is applicable on the present occasion, you will excuse its conspicuous place in the front of my epistle. I am almost superannuated here. My old friends (with the exception of a very few) all departed, and I am preparing to follow them, but remain till Monday to be present at three _Oratorios_, two _Concerts_, a _Fair_, and a Ball. I find I am not only _thinner_ but _taller_ by an inch since my last visit. I was obliged to tell every body my _name_, n.o.body having the least recollection of my _visage_, or person. Even the hero of _my Cornelian_ [2] (who is now sitting _vis-a-vis_ reading a volume of my _Poetics_) pa.s.sed me in Trinity walks without recognising me in the least, and was thunderstruck at the alteration which had taken place in my countenance, etc., etc. Some say I look _better_, others _worse_, but all agree I am _thinner_,--more I do not require. I have lost two pounds in my weight since I left your _cursed_, _detestable_, and _abhorred_ abode of _scandal_, where, excepting yourself and John Becher, [3] I care not if the whole race were consigned to the _Pit of Acheron_, which I would visit in person rather than contaminate my _sandals_ with the polluted dust of Southwell. _Seriously_, unless obliged by the _emptiness_ of my purse to revisit Mrs. B., you will see me no more.
On Monday I depart for London. I quit Cambridge with little regret, because our _set_ are _vanished_, and my _musical protege_ before mentioned has left the choir, and is stationed in a mercantile house of considerable eminence in the metropolis. You may have heard me observe he is exactly to an hour two years younger than myself. I found him grown considerably, and as you will suppose, very glad to see his former _Patron_. He is nearly my height, very _thin_, very fair complexion, dark eyes, and light locks. My opinion of his mind you already know;--I hope I shall never have occasion to change it.
Every body here conceives me to be an _invalid_. The University at present is very gay from the fetes of divers kinds. I supped out last night, but eat (or ate) nothing, sipped a bottle of claret, went to bed at two, and rose at eight. I have commenced early rising, and find it agrees with me. The Masters and the Fellows all very _polite_, but look a little _askance_--don"t much admire _lampoons_ [4]--truth always disagreeable.
Write, and tell me how the inhabitants of your _Menagerie_ go _on_, and if my publication goes _off_ well: do the quadrupeds _growl_?
Apropos, my bull-dog is deceased--"Flesh both of cur and man is gra.s.s." Address your answer to Cambridge. If I am gone, it will be forwarded. Sad news just arrived--Russians beat [5]--a bad set, eat nothing but _oil_, consequently must melt before a _hard fire_. I get awkward in my academic habiliments for want of practice. Got up in a window to hear the oratorio at St. Mary"s, popped down in the middle of the _Messiah_, tore a _woeful_ rent in the back of my best black silk gown, and damaged an egregious pair of breeches. Mem.--never tumble from a church window during service. Adieu, dear----! do not remember me to any body:--to _forget_ and be forgotten by the people of Southwell is all I aspire to.
[Footnote 1: The allusion is to the farce _Better Late than Never_ (attributed to Miles Peter Andrews, but really, according to Reynolds (_Life_, vol. ii. pp. 79, 80), by himself, Topham, and Andrews), in which Pallet, an artist, is a prominent character. It was played at Drury Lane for the first time October 17, 1790, with Kemble as "Saville"
and Mrs. Jordan as "Augusta."]
[Footnote 2: "The hero of _my Cornelian_" was a Cambridge chorister named Edleston, whose life, as Harness has recorded in a MS. note, Byron saved from drowning. This began their acquaintance. (See Byron"s lines on "The Cornelian," _Poems_, vol. i. 66-67.) Edleston died of consumption in May, 1811. Byron, writing to Mrs. Pigot, gives the following account of his death:--
"Cambridge, Oct. 28, 1811.
Dear Madam,--I am about to write to you on a silly subject, and yet I cannot well do otherwise. You may remember a _cornelian_, which some years ago I consigned to Miss Pigot, indeed _gave_ to her, and now I am going to make the most selfish and rude of requests. The person who gave it to me, when I was very young, is _dead_, and though a long time has elapsed since we met, as it was the only memorial I possessed of that person (in whom I was very much interested), it has acquired a value by this event I could have wished it never to have borne in my eyes. If, therefore, Miss Pigot should have preserved it, I must, under these circ.u.mstances, beg her to excuse my requesting it to be transmitted to me at No. 8, St. James"s Street, London, and I will replace it by something she may remember me by equally well. As she was always so kind as to feel interested in the fate of him that formed the subject of our conversation, you may tell her that the giver of that cornelian died in May last of a consumption, at the age of twenty-one, making the sixth, within four months, of friends and relatives that I have lost between May and the end of August.
"Believe me, dear Madam, yours very sincerely,
"BYRON.
"P.S.--I go to London to-morrow."