On February 2 1815, Lord Byron writes to Thomas Moore.
Seaham, Stocklon-on-Tees, February 2, 1815.
I have heard from London that you have left Chatsworth and all the women full of ‘ entusymusy’* about you personally and poetically; and, in–‘particular, that ‘When first I met thee’ has been quite overwhelming in its effect. I told you it was one of the best things you ever wrote, though that dog Power wanted you to omit part of it. They are all regretting your absence at Chatsworth, according to my informant-‘ all the ladies quite,’ w. &c. &c. – Stap my vitals!
“Well, now you have got home again-which I dare say is as agreeable as a ‘draught of cool small beer to the scorched palate of a waking sot’-now you have got home again, I say, probably I shall hear from you. Since I wrote last, I have been transferred to my father-in-law’s, with my lady and my lady’s maid, &cw . 8w. &c. and the treacle-moon is over, and I am awake, and find myself married. My spouse and I agree to—and in-admiration. Swift says ‘ no wise man ever married ;’ but, for a fool, I think it the most ambrosial of all possible future states. I still think one ought to marry upon lease ; but am very sure I should renew mine at the expiration, though next term were for ninety and nine years.
“I wish you would respond, for I am here ‘ oblitusque meorum oblivisceudus ,et illis.’ Pray tell me what is going on in the way of intriguery, and how the w s and rogues of the upper Beggar’s Opera go on—-or rather go off-in or after marriage; or who are going to break any particular commandment. Upon this dreary coast, we have nothing but county meetings and shipwrecks; andI have this day dined upon fish, which probably dined upon the crews of several colliers lost in the late gales. But I saw the sea once more in all the glories of surf and foam, -_almost equal to the Bay of Biscay, and‘ the interesting white squalls and short seas of Archipelago memory.
“My papa, Sir Ralpho, hath recently made a speech at a Durham tax-meeting; and not only at Durham, but .here, several times since, after dinner. He is now, I believe, speaking ‘it to himself (I left him in the middle) over various decanters, which can neither interrupt him nor fall asleep,-as might possibly have been the case with some of his audience. Ever thine, B.
“I must go to tea—damn tea. I wish it was Kinnaird’s brandy, and with you to lecture me about it.”