Twisty Little Passages: The Several Editions of Lady Caroline Lamb's Glenarvon
Douglass, Paul, Wordsworth Circle
Glenarvon was published in 1816 by Henry Colburn, who advanced Lady Caroline Lamb [pounds sterling]200 with an agreement to pay [pounds sterling]300 upon publication. He must have anticipated decent sales, for he had recently paid an established writer, Lady Morgan, about the same amount for her novel O'Donnel (Erickson 156). Glenarvon is an interesting case study in the winding paths of revision, which began as soon as Lamb detected editorial changes in the proofs: "I shall be seriously angry if any alteration is made whatever either in punctuation or orthography & I entreat you to send me the proof sheets. Remember and send the remainder of the 1st vol. - for I have been obliged to alter it all back again ... "(2) She was also "vex'd" when Colburn left two musical settings by Isaac Nathan out of the galleys. (3) She perhaps felt Nathan's music would be a selling point, because the second volume of Byron and Nathan's successful Hebrew Melodies, had just appeared. Colburn put the music back in, but the proofreading continued practically up to the day Glenarvon was published anonymously on May 9, 1816. There were errors, including mis-numbering of chapters, (4) but the author was proud, and sent copies of the novel to her circle of associates. Her pride turned to alarm, however, when her sister-in-law and others began to accuse her of betraying them with this "kiss and tell," or as Byron put it, "--and publish" confessional (Byron's Letters and Journals 5: 85). When John Cam Hobhouse announced his intention to counter-attack on Byron's behalf for Lamb's expropriation of his "character" in the novel by publishing some of Lamb's letters. Lamb expressed nothing but astonishment (Douglass 185). She spent the next period of her life revising Glenarvon for its second and third editions, adding a preface, and then an introduction for a fourth edition, (5) trying to repair the damage. And yet, she never altered any passages that would change the novel's core message.
Lamb's reputation for insanity is largely based upon the act of social suicide Glenarvon became. She paid heavily for portraying Byron both as an irresistible lover and "a coward and a hypocrite," a "smooth dissembler," who smiles--but "while he smiles he stabs" (Works 1: 342). Frustrated passion and simultaneous anger with Byron motivated the writer, no doubt, but her deeper anger lay with the society that excused him while condemning her for their adultery. That double standard irked, then enraged her, and she began to see it as confirmation of the pervasive hypocrisy she had witnessed first hand for years. Of Calantha, the novel's heroine. Lady Caroline wrote, "She heard folly censured till she took it to be criminal; but crime she saw tolerated if well concealed" (Works 1: 54). In Glenarvon, Lamb was able to dramatize her own attempt to defy a society rife with "hypocrisy and deceit" (Works 1: 71).
Lamb had other motives besides family distress for revising her work. The press had been severe with her first novel--overly so, in retrospect. Glenarvon has significant flaws, but the reaction of journals and magazines was certainly out of proportion to its offenses. The British Critic described it as composed of "scenes of seduction and adultery" representing the "morals of Paris and Vienna" (i.e., "Sodom and Gomorrah") by an author bent on "publishing to the world her own shame," who seemed "to glory in her guilt." The Critic's reviewer said that the novel ought to be read "with a mixed feeling of abhorrence and pity". (6) The Theatrical Inquisitor similarly found Glenarvon "tiresome" and "revolting" and described it as a pornographic work comparable to John Cleland's Fanny Hill. (7) The British Lady's Magazine bemoaned the novel as a "wretched production" which was "disgusting, immoral, and tawdry," and notwithstanding these grave charges, completely "farcical." (8) The Monthly Review did not charge Glenarvon with moral or religious harm, but rather inquired into the novel's oddity. There was something strange, even transgendered about it: "[I]t is of the doubtful gender, though a feminine production." In the end, the reviewer described its overall effect as "wearisome." (9) These exaggerations suggest a campaign to brand the novel as grossly indecent while also dismissing it as negligible.
In this context of critical scorn and family ire, and with the seemingly incongruous endorsement of her (supposedly wounded) husband William to print a second edition, Lamb revised her novel. Determined to appease her critics, she still refused to alter her fundamental message, a protest against the loss of aristocratic integrity. Before examining some of her revision strategies, I shall briefly review Lamb's essential critique of aristocratic excess and betrayal. She had laid the foundation of that critique by taking the name and situation of her Lady Calantha from Princess Calantha of Sparta, the protagonist of John Ford's The Broken Heart (1633). Princess Calantha is betrothed to her cousin, Nearchus, the Prince of Argos, but is in love with Ithocles (just as Lamb's Lady Calantha is betrothed to her cousin, William Buchanan, but loves Lord Avondale). Ford's Ithocles helps persuade Princess Calantha's father, the ailing King Amyclas--and even Nearchus himself--to let true lovers marry. When it comes to Ithocles' twin sister, Penthea, however, the story is different. Penthea is in love with Orgilus, but her brother Ithocles, despite his insistence on a love-match for himself, demands that she many Bassanes, who is wealthier, but much older. Bassanes proves to be so jealous of his young wife that he accuses her of incest with Ithocles. Miserable, Penthea eventually starves herself to death, and the spurned lover Orgilus murders Ithocles in revenge. In the ensuing scene at a festival dance. Calantha hears that her father, Penthea, and Ithocles are all dead. Nonetheless she forbids the dance to stop. Once it has reached its conclusion, she assumes the role of queen, sentences Orgilus to death for the murder of Ithocles, then gives her kingdom to Nearchus. She places her wedding ring on the finger of Ithocles and dies of a broken heart. Lady Caroline Lamb condensed these two marriages and their dire consequences into the relations among and between the several key actors in the core ensemble of Glenarvon, including Calantha, Lord Avondale, Glenarvon, Alice Mac Allain, the Duke of Altamont, Margaret Delaval, and Elinor St. Claire.
Leigh Wetherall Dickson first drew attention to the fact that in Glenarvon Lamb employs Ford's aristocratic ideal of self-control to condemn the moral bankruptcy of her own class, and that this theme persists in her subsequent two novels Graham Hamilton (1822) and Ada Reis (1823), which "comprise a body of work with a sustained intellectual commitment to reform." Wetherall Dickson argues in her Introduction to Ada Reis,
It is precisely [Lamb's] own connection with the aristocratic lifestyle of ephemeral excess that enables Lamb to exhibit the lack of a sense of purpose, discipline and integrity within the aristocracy, and the dangers of being too closely associated with fashionable elitism. Her novels reflect the increasing criticisms of the aristocracy that followed in the aftermath of the French Revolution and in the build-up to the 1832 Reform Bill, and how easily entrenched and arbitrary privilege could be replaced by the emerging class of evangelical and entrepreneurial professionals that practised morality in both public and private. (Works 3: xvii).
Wetherall Dickson also points out that Lamb emulates Ford's empathy for those who are trapped by passion, even in taboo sexual relationships. The Broken Heart's Princess Calantha rejects a dynastic marriage to Nearchus for a love-union with Ithocles, just as Glenarvon's Lady Calantha rejects her cousin William Buchanan for Lord Avondale--and indeed as Lamb herself rejected her cousin the Marquis of Harrington, the future 6th Duke of Devonshire, for William Lamb. In several scenes of Glenarvon, Lamb borrows from Ford, portraying the tragedy that ensues when true love is thwarted, and thus seemingly excusing Calantha for her dependence upon her husband and then her affair with Glenarvon, an affair that destroys her. Lady Calantha Avondale's stoicism is often evoked, and the literary allusion of her name is driven home in volume two of the novel, when Calantha's friend. Lady Augusta, asks her if she has ever read The Broken Heart. "At this moment you put me vastly in mind of it. You look most woefully. Come, tell me truly, is not your heart in torture? and, like your namesake Calantha, while lightly dancing the gayest in the ring, has not the shaft already been struck, and shall you not die ere you attain the goal?" (Works 1: 152).
Like The Broken Heart, Glenarvon focuses upon both the disaster of denying true love and the importance of aristocratic leadership and self-control; of course, in the case of Glenarvon the latter theme is evoked through the lack of strong, stoic leaders. Shortly before she dies, Lamb's Lady Calantha confesses her own helpless guilt and failure as a member of the nobility:
"From the deep recesses of a guilty, yet not humble heart, in the agony and the hopelessness of despair," said Calantha, "I acknowledge before God and before man, that for me there is no excuse. I have fell, I have enjoyed every happiness, every delight, the earth can offer. Its vanities, its pleasures, its transports have been mine; and in all instances I have misused the power with which I have been too much and too long entrusted. ... Yet when they read my history- if amidst the severity of justice which such a narrative must excite, some feelings of forgiveness and pity should arise, perhaps the prayer of one, who has suffered much, may ascend for them, and the thanks of a broken heart be accepted in return." (Works 1: 292)
The exact phrase, "broken heart," occurs eight times in the last volume of Glenarvon; one of the last occurs when rebel leader Elinor St. Clare plunges to her death from the cliffs of Heremon saying, "Peace to the broken hearts" (Works 1: 344). Though self-condemned, Calantha receives special pleading as the victim of ineluctable forces.
As John Clubbe pointed out in The Wordsworth Circle some thirty years ago, Lamb was certainly under huge pressure to pacify her relatives and friends as she sat down to revise Gleamvon, and "carefully revised [the novel] to eliminate passages that had hurt, others or shocked public taste" (Clubbe 209). (10) "I am doing even thing I can to stop the further mischief," she assured her mother-in-law, Lady Melbourne. (11) Yet in the second edition Lamb defends herself in a preface against the charge of "immoral tendency." She believed that a double-standard had been applied, under which Byron was excused for gross misbehavior while she was strongly censured for small offenses. This double-standard so enraged her that in 1817, when her in-laws were trying to force a separation between herself and her husband, she threatened her mother-in-law. Lady Melbourne, with retaliation: "I [would] owe it to all to publish as far as I can without involving those I love a full explanation of my conduct a full refutation of the calumnies that have been spread against me & my infamous book--and an exact account of Lord Byrons conduct for the last four years" (Whole Disgraceful Truth 162).
In her preface to Glenarvon, Lamb argues that the novel is not immoral, despite the inclusion of "desperate characters, depraved conduct, and daring crimes":
Such have been from the earliest to the most recent times, the subjects of fiction; and such ever have been the themes of tragedians of all countries; of the writers of novels, romances, and romantic poems; and the present period presents us with almost daily examples, which at least equal, if they do not surpass their prototypes of old, in the horrors, and atrocities, which they describe. (Works 1: 353)
Lamb asks that readers recognize her intention to describe, rather than to degrade human nature, and reminds them that many great novels, plays, and narrative poems have such material in them. If some readers thought they were personally slandered, that was not her main intention, though she acknowledges she wrote in the heat of a passionate outburst against injustice:
[A] distinction is always to be drawn between the attempt at painting human nature as it is, and the base desire of deforming, and degrading it. The crimes related in these volumes are evidently imaginary; the situations fictitious; much of the ridicule which has received a personal application, is harmless in itself, and directed against trilling peculiarities; some imputations there are, no doubt of a heavier nature, and these were conceived to have been justified by injury and provocation. (Works 1: 354)
Lamb's preface exhibits a typical dynamic in which she apologizes for unintentionally transgressing, then becomes consumed with frustration at having been trapped into a reluctant contrition. Repeatedly, appeasement gives way to self-justification and then counter-attack. She concludes her Preface by saying,
The whole has been written with the general design of inculcating the necessity of seeing both actions and opinions, in their true light, and as they really are; of founding religion, not like Calantha, upon enthusiasm, but upon reason and faith; of founding morality, upon principle and experience, not upon ignorance of evil. If in any part of the work, any deviation from this prescribed course can be discovered; if any sentiment throughout these volumes, appears even to approach to the toleration of vice and immorality, it is vain now to say, how from the heart it is wished unwritten; but in censures, which spring from very different motives, in misconstructions, misrepresentations, and, above all, in the charge of malevolence, the author never will silently and tamely acquiesce. (Works 1: 355)
Thus Lamb concludes on a note of defiance rather than apology, and the same rhetorical stance characterizes revisions made to Glenarvon.
Lamb worked as an experienced editor, ensuring the printer could re-set the novel at minimal cost. For every word she added, she subtracted at least one other. Revisions slightly decreased the page count of the first volume of Glenarvon.. Remarkably, she kept the page counts for volumes two and three exactly the same. The discipline needed to keep the novel at about its original length was considerable. Lamb made well over 2,200 individual changes in the three volumes of Glenarvon (well over 150,000 words in all). Many revisions were punctuational, like substituting a colon for a semi-colon, and vice versa; putting in commas or taking them out: adding exclamation marks; subtracting dashes. The other changes were substantive. She changed the characterizations of Glenarvon and Calantha, dropped or modified passages that relations and friends had complained about, and reduced the gothic elements. Glenarvon grew less Satanic, while Calantha and her family became devout Catholics. In revisions to the second edition of Glenarvon, the Duke of Altamonte is said to have "married into a Roman Catholic family" in chapter two of volume one (Works 1: 8, 391 n8e). Mrs. Seymour and her daughters, Frances and Sophia, are made specifically Catholic in an interpolated sentence in the second edition, chapter eight of volume one: "[Mrs. Seymour] was a Roman Catholic, and all who differed from that persuasion were, in her opinion, utterly lost" (Works 1: 28, 388). Calantha's allegiance to Catholicism is similarly specified in an interpolated passage in chapter sixteen of volume one: "She, as has been heretofore related, was a Roman Catholic, and had adopted with that excess and exaggeration, which belonged to her character, the most enthusiastic devotion to that captivating and delusive worship" (Works 1: 401 n50b). Lord Avondale grew more noble and courageous in revision; he also repented more vehemently that he had not seized control of his errant wife. The duel between Lords Avondale and Glenarvon was altered so that instead of shooting Avondale, Glenarvon stabs him in the chest--though in neither case is the wound fatal (Works 1:448 n304a).
Most of Lamb's substantive revisions deflected charges of immorality and blasphemy. For example, she eliminates most direct references to God, who becomes instead, "Heaven" or "Being." "Oh God!" becomes "Oh Heavens!"; "for God's sake" becomes "in mercy," etc. Lamb also played down the carnality of Glenarvon's affair with Calantha. For example, in a brief passage in volume two, Lamb alters the phrase "fires of lust" to "fires of passion," changes "whirl-winds of passion" to "whirlwinds," and substitutes "pure" for "chaste" (Works 1: 416 n l 48b ff.). Similarly, she revised such passages as the following: "As he spoke, he again pressed her to his bosom, and his tears fell over her" (Works 1: 186). The second edition alters this to, "As he spoke his tears fell upon her hand" (Works 1: 423 n186j). In the fourth chapter of volume two, Lamb cuts several descriptions of physical attraction. For example, the following was cut completely in volume three of the second edition: "... but the kiss I have snatched from your lips is sweeter far for me. Oh, for another, given thus warm from the heart! It has entranced--it has made me mad" (Works 1: 433 n255g). Lamb tones down the sexual aspect of the relationship but does not eliminate it. Similarly, in volume three of the revised second edition, she changes "There are trials which human frailty cannot resist" to, "There is no trial which human frailty cannot resist ... if we call upon our God to assist us ..." (Works 1: 440 n245e). Lamb here reverses her statement about human frailty to rebut charges that she excuses the heroine's misbehavior. Yet, as I shall show, even that change, is cosmetic. She does not alter her characters' fundamental situations and fates.
Lamb's revision technique is typified in the changes made to chapter sixteen of the novel's second volume. A census of the changes includes: deletion of two dashes; insertion of eight commas; deletion of six commas; conversion of one comma to a semicolon; capitalization of three words; spelling out the word "damn'd" (instead of "d--'d"): correction of five typographical errors; introduction of one error by the printer ("exuberant" is spelt "exuberent"); change of a name spelt differently in the first edition (she consistently changed "Mowbray" to "Mowbrey"); and the substitution of one word for another ('pretty' becomes 'handsome'). In all, Lamb cuts twenty-eight words and adds fifteen. The deletions and additions add specificity (e.g., the word "it" is modified to "the partiality"); nuance the activities at Castle Delaval (e.g., "an agreeable variety" becomes "rational pleasure of the society"); and tone down the passion of the relationship between Calantha and Glenarvon as exhibited in the moment he gives her a ring. The sentences in the first edition read: "As he spoke, he pretended to pick up a ring. 'Is this yours?' he said. 'No.' 'It is,' he whispered; and placed it himself upon her finger" (Works 1: 159). In the second edition, the same passage reads simply: "He gave her a ring." (Works 1: 419 n l59d).
Lamb's many revisions to Glenarvon do not, however, alter her original intention to condemn the English aristocracy while excusing the disastrous relationship of Calantha and Glenarvon as beyond their power to control. Three passages added to the text confirm her refusal to alter. In the first, she adds a paragraph at the end of a chapter in the first volume appearing to condemn Lady Calantha for lacking stability and a "tranquil and humble spirit" (Works 1: 394 n5lg). By the end of the passage, however, we are invited to see Calantha as having simply grown from a seed planted in strange soil, unable to control her impulses, even when she knows they are wrong: a victim, in short, rather than a perpetrator of crime: "The productions of such a soil are all strange, new, un-certain; and the cultivator sees with astonishment a plant arise, entirely different from the usual result of the seed which has been sown, mocking his toil, and frustrating his expectations" (ibid.). In a second passage, the song lyric "If to Lose All that Love Thee" is inserted. Elinor St. Clare sings this song accompanying herself on her harp during the ball at which Lady Augusta asks Calantha whether she has read The Broken Heart. The lyric paints an elegiac scene of reproach for Glenarvon, to whom it is directed, and it underscores Ford's ideal of nobility in the self-description of Elinor, who "never had changed," who was "firm to the last" despite Glenarvon's betrayal:
A smile, oft in death, may illumine each feature, When hope, fondly cherished, forever is past; And the heart that is noble and high in its nature, Though deserted and scorn'd, will be firm to the last. (Works: 1: 425 n151e).
This passage is complemented by a long passage Lamb inserted late in the novel, when Calantha is about to die. The inserted words offer to answer those who charged that the author let her protagonist off the hook too easily: "And did she thus die, some may perhaps exclaim, unpunished for her crime! Did she not live to feel its consequences in all their magnitude and bitterness. ... Oh did the God who made her, in commiseration for what she had already felt, spare her this trial?" To her critics, Lamb responds by changing nothing by this revision except to underscore the fact that God does, "in mercy," spare Calantha (Works 1: 447 n299b).
Consistent with this pattern of defiance despite extensive revision, Lamb changed her novel's epigraph twice, and in each alteration her determination to underscore Ford's themes seems to strengthen. The first edition's epigraph came from Dante's Inferno, Canto 33: "Disperato dolor, che il cor mi preme Gia pur pensando, pria che ne favelle" [I renew a hopeless despair, that makes my heart still ache, at the thought, before the words follow.] This passage recounts the terrible fate of Ugolino, a traitor whose children were starved and killed with him in revenge. Dante finds Ugolino gnawing on the skull of Archbishop Ruggieri, who was instrumental in his demise, and asks him to tell his tale. Lamb's choice was apparently intended to emphasize Glenarvon's betrayal of the Irish rebellion. For the second and third editions, Lamb settled on an epigraph adapted from Voltaire's Zadig: "Les passions sont les vents qui enflent les voiles du vaisseau: elles le sub-mergent quelquefois, mais sans elles il ne pourrait voguer. Tout est dangereux ici-bas, et tout est necessaire." [The, passions are the winds which fill the sails of the vessel: they submerge her sometimes, but without them she could not sail. Everything is dangerous, here below, and everything is necessary.] (12) This epigraph underscores the point that passion undergirds all human existence. And in the fourth edition, Lamb chooses yet a different epigraph, drawn from Tacitus: "Contemptu fama contemni virtutes." [For to despise fame is to despise merit], a passage from the Annals of Tacitus, Book 4, paragraph 38. (13) Here Lamb seems to excuse not herself, in the characters of Calantha, Elinor St. Claire, and Alice Mac Allain, but rather Byron.
There are other indications that Lamb softened her attack on Byron. Her revisions blunt slightly the criticism of Glenarvon's political hypocrisy. Glenarvon, a Whig aristocrat, takes a stand against tyranny only as self-serving theater, and instead epitomizes aristocratic duplicity. Yet in the second edition of the novel, Lamb puts an interesting phrase in the mouth of one of the United Irishmen: "Let not rage against Glenarvon actuate your resolves: whatever he may have done, "we shall not live to see his like again'" (Works 1: 450 n342b). This change does not, however, fundamentally alter Lamb's depiction of Glenarvon as a seducer and betrayer of women and male political revolutionaries: "Glenarvon it seems has left his followers, as he has his mistress," notes another of the United Irishmen (Works 1: 309). The lyric titled "Farewell" perhaps best encapsulates the betrayal Glenarvon represents.
Thou'lt think of me when I am gone None shall undo, what I have done; Yet even thy love I would resign To save thee from remorse like mine; Thy tears shall fall upon my grave: They still may bless--they cannot save. (Works 1: 173)
Like Lord Byron, Glenarvon captures the limelight by staging his exits with professions of self-sacrifice and eternal loyalty. But this man who promises to die for his lover has no intention of expiring. Similarly, Glenarvon has no intention to die for his country. He is portrayed as betraying the United Irishmen at the crucial juncture of their fruitless 1798 rebellion. Hoping French forces will come to their aid, the Irishmen have set aside differences between Protestant and Catholic in order to overcome their common enemy, the "aristocratic tyrants of the land" as Robert Kee has said (50), and they are counting on Glenarvon to uphold their cause, as he has frequently promised to do. He fails them.
Malcolm Kelsall has pointed out that there is little said in Lamb's novel specifically about the English oppression that goaded the United Irishmen into rebellion, and further that Glenarvon's Irish landscape seems naive, formed by a "picturesque imagination" (6). True, Lamb did not know a great deal about Ireland, but she lived there some months, and she does discuss the rebellion's causes and its terrible aftermath, when the English brutally slaughtered hundreds. While writing from the position of an English aristocrat, Lamb nonetheless describes the Irish betrayal in haunting terms, symbolizing it in the figure of the eponymous Glenarvon's lilting but ultimately counterfeit name. Glenarvon was undoubtedly conceived and first begun in Ireland, at Bessborough House in County Kilkenny, where she arrived with her family in the first week of September 1812, at the estate which had been conferred by Cromwell upon her ancestor Sir John Ponsonby. Caroline's parents, Lord and Lady Bessborough, stayed in the main house, with its large hall decorated by four massive ten foot tall Ionic columns of Kilkenny marble. Lamb and her husband lived at Belline House, half a mile from the main domicile. Since the Bessboroughs had visited their estate only rarely, there was a party atmosphere with a lot of drinking and dancing and a healthy does of friction between the Carrickers, on one had, and the denizens of Piltown Village, who showed as much interest in fighting each other as in drinking and eating. Lamb was able to observe her mother's attempts to calm this conflict with a speech given to a toast of whisky punch. Lady Bessborough had expressed equal gratitude to the Carrickers and Piltowners and "begg'd it of them, as a proof of (what they call) their Loyalty, to go home quietly without any disturbance or jealousies." She and Caroline then danced and sang with the revelers, who went home without major incident--no "broken heads" at least--"but it gave me a little notion," concluded Harriet, "how hard they are to manage" (Douglass 126). The Irish landlords, as Caroline could easily observe, seldom considered that the suffering of the Irish peasantry filled their purses in England. Bessborough House had survived the 1798 Rebellion, but it would be burned to the ground in the Irish civil war of the 1920s (ibid.).
Lamb's portrait of Glenarvon comprises a political as well as personal observation--an early example of feminism's later overtly expressed principle that the personal is political. Showing that she had read her Wollstonecraft, Lamb protested the weakness of unsympathetic and thoughtless women themselves:
[W]hen real virtue, struggling with temptations of which these senseless, passionless creatures have no conception, clinging for support to Heaven, yet preserves itself uncorrupted amidst the vicious and the base, it deserves a crown of glory, and the praise and admiration of every heart. Not so these spiritless immaculate prejudiced sticklers for propriety. (Works 1: 57-58)
Standing on the shoulders of foremothers Mary Wollstonecraft and Germaine de Stael, Lamb demands for women a bigger role in political affairs, literature, and love; and she demands of women a greater ambition to participate in the world. As Leigh Wetherall Dickson has said, "Unflinchingly, she demanded that her aristocratic and aspiring middle-class readers recognize not only her as the author, but themselves in relation to what she describes" (Works 3: xviii). With its flaws, Glenarvon is still the work of a literate, politically sensitive, and principled mind, as evidenced by sometimes convoluted textual revisions made to give less offence, yet abandoning nothing of her artistic vision.
(1) Short portions of this essay have appeared in a different form in "Lady Caroline Lamb's Revisions to Her Novel Glenarvon: Some Observations," Bulletin of the Byron Society In Australia 32 (2008):31-38.
(2) Forster Collection, Victoria and Albert Museum, correspondence of Lady Caroline Lamb and Henry Colburn.
(4) In the first edition of Glenarvon the chapters are numbered with Roman numerals. Volume I omitted to use the ninth numeral (IX), throwing off the remaining count by one. Volume II mis-numbered chapter twenty-six (XXVI) as twenty-four (XXIV); chapter twenty-seven (XXVII) as twenty-six (XXVI); and chapter thirty-six (XXXVI) as thirty-four (XXXIV). The third volume of the novel numbered chapters from seventy-two (LXXII) to one-hundred six (CVI).
(5) The fourth edition of Glenarvon was published in 1817 "with the original Introduction," which had never, however, appeared before. Other than this Introduction and the alteration of the epigraph, the fourth edition is identical to the third, published in 1816.
(6) The British Critic 5 (June 1816): 627-31.
(7) Theatrical Inquisitor 9 (August 1816): 122-25.
(8) British Lady's Magazine 4 (August 1816): 101-3.
(9) Monthly Review 80 (June 1816): 217-18.
(10) Professor Clubbe was so generous as to share with me copies of some letters and his notes from the essay on Glenarvon's, revisions, while I was in the process of writing a biography of Lamb and editing her works with Professor Wetherall Dickson, for which I am deeply grateful.
(11) Lady Caroline Lamb to Lady Melbourne, n.d. (after May 9, 1816). British Library Add. MS 45546 f.91-92.
(12) Adapted from Zadig, Chapter 22: " 'Ce sont les vents qui enflent les voiles du vaisseau,' repartit l'ermite: elles le submergent quelquefois; mais sans elles il ne pourrait voguer. La bile rend colere et malade; mais sans la bile l'homme ne saurait vivre. Tout est dangereux ici-bas, et toul est necessaire.'" ["The passions are the winds which fill the sails of the vessel," resumed the hermit. "They submerge her sometimes, but without them, she could not sail. Phlegm, indeed, makes men peevish and sick; but then there is no living without it. Everything is dangerous, here below, and everything is necessary."]. Translated by Nehal Abuelata.
(13) Translated by Alfred Church and William Brodrib: Tacitus, The Annals and the Histories (2003), 413.
Byron, George Gordon, Lord. Byron's Letters and Journals. Ed. Leslie Marchand, 12 vols. 1973-1995; Clubbe, John. "Glenarvon Revised--and Revisited." The Wordsworth Circle 10 (1979):205-17. Douglass, Paul. Lady Caroline Lamb: A Biography. 2004. Erickson, Lee. The Economy of Literary Form: English Literature and the Industrialization of Publishing, 1800-1850. 1996; Kee, Robert. The Green Flag, Volume I: The e Most Distressful Country. 1989; Kelsall, Malcolm. "The Byronic Hero and Revolution in Ireland: the Politics of Glenarvon," Byron Journal 9 (1981): 4-19; Lamb, Lady Caroline. The Whole Disgraceful Truth: Selected Letters of Lady Caroline Lamb. Ed. Paul Douglass. 2006;--. The Works of Lady Caroline Lamb. Ed. Paul Douglass and Leigh Wetherall Dickson. 3 vols. Pickering & Chatto, 2009:
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Publication information: Article title: Twisty Little Passages: The Several Editions of Lady Caroline Lamb's Glenarvon. Contributors: Douglass, Paul - Author. Journal title: Wordsworth Circle. Volume: 40. Issue: 2-3 Publication date: Spring-Summer 2009. Page number: 77+. © 2009 Wordsworth Circle. COPYRIGHT 2009 Gale Group.
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