“You may have heard of the sudden death of my mother, and
poor Matthews, which, with that of Wingfield (of which I was not fully
| A. D. 1811. | LIFE OF LORD BYRON. | 285 |
“You will feel for poor Hobhouse,—Matthews was the ‘god of his idolatry;‘ and if intellect could exalt a man above his fellows, no one could refuse him pre-eminence. I knew him most intimately, and valued him proportionably, but I am recurring—so let us talk of life and the living.
“If you should feel a disposition to come here, you will
find ‘beef and a sea-coal fire,’ and not ungenerous wine. Whether Otway’s two other requisites for an Englishman or
not, I cannot tell, but probably one of them.—Let me know when I may expect you, that I
may tell you when I go and when return.—I have “not yet been to Lancs. *
* * *
* *
* * * *
Davies has been here, and has invited me to
Cambridge for a week in October, so that peradventure, we may encounter glass to glass.
His gaiety (death cannot mar it) has done me service; but, after all, ours was a hollow
laughter.
“You will write to me? I am solitary, and I never felt solitude irksome before. Your anxiety about the critique on * *’s book is amusing; as it was anonymous, certes it was of little consequence: I wish it had produced a little more confusion, being a lover of literary malice. Are you doing nothing? writing nothing? printing nothing? why not your Satire on Methodism? the subject (supposing the public to be blind to merit) would do wonders. Besides, it would be as well for a destined deacon to prove his orthodoxy.—It really would give me pleasure to see you properly appreciated. I say really, as, being an author, my humanity might be suspected. Believe me, dear H., yours always.”
