LORD  BYRON  and  his  TIMES
Documents Biography Criticism

Samuel Rogers and his Contemporaries
Lord Ashburnham to Samuel Rogers, 30 September 1830

Vol. I Contents
Chapter I. 1803-1805.
Chapter II. 1805-1809.
Chapter III. 1810-1812.
Chapter IV. 1813-1814.
Chapter V. 1814-1815.
Chapter VI. 1815-1816.
Chapter VII. 1816-1818.
Chapter VIII. 1818-19.
Chapter IX. 1820-1821.
Chapter X. 1822-24.
Chapter XI. 1825-1827.
Vol. II Contents
Chapter I. 1828-1830.
Chapter II. 1831-34.
Chapter III. 1834-1837.
Chapter IV. 1838-41.
Chapter V. 1842-44.
Chapter VI. 1845-46.
Chapter VII. 1847-50.
Chapter VIII. 1850
Chapter IX. 1851.
Chapter X. 1852-55.
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‘Ashburnham Place: 30th Sept., 1830.

‘My dear Rogers,—I know not whether the one of all your friends who has the most often read over and over again your poem on our beloved Italy, be the best entitled to a presentation-copy of it. But, I am sure, on that and on other accounts, the copy for which I have to thank you has not been ill-bestowed. Most especially as to what relates to Florence and its environs, with which,
‘Of all the fairest cities of the earth,
I am historically and topographically most acquainted. I have followed your traces in all directions as diligently and exactly as you did those of that celebrated giro, beginning and ending with the Santa Maria Novella. And I can say of many such walks (thanks to you) what you have said of that one—“delightful in itself, and in its
associations.” Your new edition may, like
Galileo’s villa, be justly called—Il Giojello. Yet I should be better pleased with some of the illustrations if I were less well acquainted with the subjects which they represent, the former being much less picturesque as well as poetical, especially with regard to figures and costume.

‘I hope that Lady Ashburnham will have prevailed so far at least as to obtain from you the promise of a visit. Nothing would please me more; particularly if I could contrive that you might meet some whom you would like to meet; for a family-party is less inviting than a téte-à-téte. For myself, I am growing gradually, if not rapidly, more and more a poor, infirm creature; and never expect to be the inmate of any but my own house, in town or country. Nor between these will my oscillations be of a pendulum-like frequency.1

‘I hope that your health is, for the sake of your numerous friends, as well as your own, such as when we last parted at Spencer House. I wish that there were as much of selfishness in this hope as there is of sincerity in my profession of being

‘Ever faithfully yours,