bargain is Hobbes's "state of nature—a state of war." It is so with all men. If I come to a friend, and say, "Friend, lend me five hundred pounds," he either does it, or says that he can't or won't; but if I come to Ditto, and say, "Ditto, I have an excellent house, or horse, or carriage, or MSS., or books, or pictures, or &c. &c. &c. &c. &c., honestly worth a thousand pounds, you shall have them for five hundred," what does Ditto say? why, he looks at them, he hums, he ha's,—he humbugs, if he can, to get a bargain as cheaply as he can, because it is a bargain. This is in the blood and bone of mankind; and the same man who would lend another a thousand pounds without interest, would not buy a horse of him for half its value if he could help it. It is so there's no denying it; and therefore I will have as much as I can, and you will give as little; and there's an end. All men are intrinsical rascals, and I am only sorry that, not being a dog, I can't bite them.— To Mr. Murray, Oct. 20, 1821. UNIVERSALITY OF LORD BYRON'S FAME. I have had a curious letter to-day from a girl in England (I never saw her), who says she is given over of a decline, but could not go out of the world without thanking me for the delight which my poesy for several years, &c. &c. &c. It is signed simply N. N. A., and has not a word of "cant" or preachment in it upon any opinions. She merely says that she is dying, and that as I had contributed so highly to her existing pleasure, she thought that she might say so, begging me to burn her letter-which, by the way, I can not do, as I look upon such a letter in such circumstances as better than a diploma from Göttingen. These are the UNIVERSALITY OF LORD BYRON'S FAME. 107 things which make one at times believe one's self a poet. But if I must believe that *****, and such fellows,* are poets also, it is better to be out of the corps.-Ravenna, July 5, 1821. Some odd instances have occurred to my own experience, of the wild and strange places to which a name may penetrate, and where it may impress. Two years ago (almost three, being in August or July, 1819,) I received at Ravenna a letter in English verse, from Drontheim in Norway, written by a Norwegian, and full of the usual compliments, &c. &c. In the same month I received an invitation into Holstein from a Mr. Jacobson (I think) of Hamburgh; also, by the same medium, a translation of Medora's song in The Corsair by a Westphalian baroness (not "ThundertonTronck "), with some original verses of hers (very pretty and Klopstock-ish), and a prose translation annexed to them, on the subject of my wife :-as they concerned her more than me, I sent them to her, together with Mr. Jacobson's letter. It was odd enough to receive an invitation to pass the summer in Holstein while in Italy, from people I never knew. What a strange thing is life and man! Were I to present myself at the door of the house where my daughter now is, the door would be shut in my faceunless (as is not impossible) I knocked down the porter; and if I had gone in that year (and perhaps now) to Drontheim (the furthest town in Norway), or into Holstein, I should have been received with open arms into the mansion of strangers and foreigners, attached to me by no tie but that of mind and rumour. As far as fame goes, I have had my share: it has indeed been leavened by other human contingencies, and this in a greater degree than has occurred to most * The "fellows" were no doubt Wordsworth and Southey. literary men of a decent rank in life; but, on the whole, I take it that such equipoise is the condition of humanity.-Detached Thoughts. MR. TAAFFE. There is here Mr. Taaffe, an Irish genius, with whom we are acquainted. He hath written a really excellent Commentary on Dante,* full of new and true information, and, much ingenuity. He is so firmly persuaded of the equal excellence of his verse, that he won't divorce the Commentary from the traduction, as I ventured delicately to hint,—not having the fear of Ireland before my eyes, and upon the presumption of having shotten very well in his presence (with common pistols too, not with my Manton's) the day before. But he is eager to publish all, and must be gratified, though the Reviewers will make him suffer more tortures than there are in his original. Indeed, the Notes are well worth publication; but he insists upon the translation for company, so that they will come out together, like Lady C **t chaperoning Miss * *. I read a letter of yours to him yesterday, and he begs me to write to you about his Poeshie. He is really a good fellow, apparently, and I dare say that his verse is very good Irish. Now, what shall we do for him? He says that he will risk part of the expense with the publisher. He will never rest till he is published and abused-for he has a high opinion of himself—and I see nothing left but to gratify him, so as to have him abused as little as possible for I think it would kill him. You must * Mr. Taaffe's "Comment on the Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri," vol. i., was published by Mr. Murray in 1823. LORD BYRON'S ATTEMPT TO BECOME AVARICIOUS. 109 write, then, to Jeffrey to beg him not to review him, and I will do the same to Gifford, through Murray. Perhaps they might notice the Comment without touching the text. But I doubt the dogs-the text is too tempting. Pisa, Nov. 16, 1821. LORD BYRON'S ATTEMPT TO BECOME AVARICIOUS. By the last post I transmitted to you a letter upon some Rochdale toll business, from which there are moneys in prospect. My agent says two thousand pounds; but supposing it to be only one, or even one hundred, still they may be moneys; and I have lived long enough to have an exceeding respect for the smallest current coin of any realm, or the least sum, which, although I may not want it myself, may do something for others who may need it more than I. They say that" Knowledge is Power: "-I used to think so; but I now know that they meant "money:' and when Socrates declared, "that all he knew was, that he knew nothing," he merely intended to declare, that he had not a drachm in the Athenian world. The circulars are arrived, and circulating like the vortices (or vortexes) of Descartes. Still I have a due care of the needful, and keep a look-out a-head, as my notions upon the score of moneys coincide with yours, and with all men's who have lived to see that every guinea is a philosopher's stone, or at least his touchstone. You will doubt me the less, when I pronounce my firm belief, that Cash is Virtue. I am determined to have all the moneys I can, whether by my own funds, or succession, or lawsuit, or MSS., or any lawful means whatever. I will pay (though with the sincerest reluctance) my remaining creditors, and every man of law, by instalments from the award of the arbitrators. I recommend to you the notice in Mr. Hanson's letter, on the demands of moneys for the Rochdale tolls. Above all, I recommend my interests to your honourable worship. Recollect, too, that I expect some moneys for the various MSS. (no matter what); and, in short, "Rem quocunque modo, Rem!"-the noble feeling of cupidity grows upon us with our years.— To Mr. D. Kinnaird, Pisa, Feb. 6, 1822. * LORD BYRON ON RELIGION. Pisa, Dec. 8, 1821. Sir, I have received your letter.* I need not say the extract which it contains has affected me, because it would imply a want of all feeling to have read it with indifference. Though I am not quite sure that it was intended by the writer for me, yet the date, the place where it was written, with some other circumstances that you mention, render the allusion probable. But for whomever it was meant, I have read it with all the pleasure which can arise from so melancholy a topic. I say pleasure-because your brief and simple picture of the life and demeanour of the excellent person whom I trust you will again meet, cannot be contemplated without the admiration due to her virtues, and her pure and unpretending piety. Her last moments were particularly striking; and I do not know that, in the course of reading the story of mankind, and still less in my * Mr. Sheppard-an accomplished gentleman, and the author of several able works,-found among the papers of his deceased wife a prayer dated Hastings, July 31, 1814, in which the writer interceded in behalf of a stranger, who was evidently Lord Byron. This prayer Mr. Sheppard forwarded to the poet in the hope that it might be the means of realising the petitions it contained. |