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is chiefly lyrical. The Morgante is the best translation that ever was or will be made; and the rest 'are-whatever you please to think them.

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I am sorry you think Werner even approaching to any fitness for the stage, which, with my notions upon it, is very far from my present object. With regard to the publication, I have already explained 'that I have no exorbitant expectations of either 'fame or profit in the present instances; but wish 'them published because they are written, which is 'the common feeling of all scribblers.

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With respect to "Religion," can I never convince you that I have no such opinions as the characters in that drama, which seems to have frightened every body? Yet they are nothing to the expressions in 'Goethe's Faust (which are ten times hardier), and 'not a whit more bold than those of Milton's Satan. My ideas of a character may run away with me: like all imaginative men, I, of course, embody myself ' with the character while I draw it, but not a moment 'after the pen is from off the paper.

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I am no enemy to religion, but the contrary. As a proof, I am educating my natural daughter a strict 'Catholic in a convent of Romagna, for I think people can never have enough of religion, if they are to have any. I incline, myself, very much to the Catholic doctrines; but if I am to write a drama, I must make 6 my characters speak as I conceive them likely to

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'As to poor Shelley, who is another bugbear to you and the world, he is, to my knowledge, the least 'selfish and the mildest of men-a man who has made 'more sacrifices of his fortune and feelings for others 'than any I ever heard of. With his speculative

' opinions I have nothing in common, nor desire to 'have.

'The truth is, my dear Moore, you live near the 'stove of society, where you are unavoidably influ'enced by its heat and its vapours. I did so onceand too much-and enough to give a colour to my 'whole future existence. As my success in society was 'not inconsiderable, I am surely not a prejudiced 'judge upon the subject, unless in its favour; but I 'think it, as now constituted, fatal to all great original undertakings of every kind. I never courted it then, 'when I was young and high in blood, and one of its ""curled darlings ;" and do you think I would do so ' now, when I am living in a clearer atmosphere? One 'thing only might lead me back to it, and that is, to

try once more if I could do any good in politics; but 'not in the petty politics I see now preying upon our 'miserable country.

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'Do not let me be misunderstood, however. If you speak your own opinions, they ever had, and will ' have, the greatest weight with me. But if you merely echo the "monde" (and it is difficult not to do so, ' being in its favour and its ferment), I can only regret 'that you should ever repeat anything to which I 'cannot pay attention.

'But I am prosing. The gods go with you, and as 'much immortality of all kinds as may suit your pre'sent and all other existence.

LETTER 483.

Yours, &c.'

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'The enclosed letter from Murray hath melted me; though I think it is against his own interest to wish

'that I should continue his connexion. You may, 'therefore, send him the packet of "Werner," which 'will save you all further trouble. And pray, can you forgive me for the bore and expense I have ' already put upon you? At least, say so-for I feel ' ashamed of having given you so much for such

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nonsense.

The fact is, I cannot keep my resentments, though 'violent enough in their onset. Besides, now that all the world are at Murray on my account, I neither 'can nor ought to leave him; unless, as I really 'thought, it were better for him that I should.

I have had no other news from England, except a letter from Barry Cornwall, the bard, and my old 'schoolfellow. Though I have sickened you with ' letters lately, believe me

'Yours, &c.

P.S. In your last letter you say, speaking of Shelley, that you would almost prefer the "damn'ing bigot" to the "annihilating infidel*." Shelley 'believes in immortality, however-but this by the · way. Do you remember Frederick the Great's 'answer to the remonstrance of the villagers whose 'curate preached against the eternity of hell's tor'ments? It was thus:-" If my faithful subjects of 'Schrausenhaussen prefer being eternally damned, let ' them?"

Of the two, I should think the long sleep better than the agonized vigil. But men, miserable as they are, cling so to any thing like life, that they probably would prefer damnation to quiet. Besides, they think themselves so important in the creation,

* It will be seen from the extract I shall give presently of the passage to which he refers, that he wholly mistook my meaning.

that nothing less can satisfy their pride-the in'sects!'

It is Dr. Clarke, I think, who gives, in his Travels, rather a striking account of a Tartar whom he once saw exercising a young, fiery horse, upon a spot of ground almost surrounded by a steep precipice, and describes the wantonness of courage with which the rider, as if delighting in his own peril, would, at times, dash, with loose rein, towards the giddy verge. Something of the same breathless apprehension with which the traveller viewed that scene, did the unchecked daring of Byron's genius inspire in all who watched its course,-causing them, at the same moment, to admire and tremble, and, in those more especially who loved him, awakening a sort of instinctive impulse to rush forward and save him from his own headlong strength. But, however natural it was in friends to give way to this feeling, a little reflection upon his now altered character might have forewarned them that such interference would prove as little useful to him as safe for themselves; and it is not without some surprise I look back upon my own temerity and presumption in supposing that, let loose as he was now, in the full pride and consciousness of strength, with the wide regions of thought outstretching before him, any representations that even friendship could make would have the power-or ought to have-of checking him. As the motives, however, by which I was actuated in my remonstrances to him may be left to speak for themselves, I shall, without dwelling any further upon the subject, content myself with laying before the reader a few such extracts from my own

VOL. III.

Υ

letters at this period * as may serve to explain some allusions in those just given.

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In writing to me, under the date January 24th, it will be recollected that he says- be assured that there is no such coalition as you apprehend.' The following extracts from my previous communication to him will explain what this means:- I heard some I days ago that Leigh Hunt was on his way to you ' with all his family; and the idea seems to be, that you and Shelley and he are to conspire together in the Examiner. I cannot believe this, and depre'cate such a plan with all my might. Alone you may 'do any thing; but partnerships in fame, like those ' in trade, make the strongest party answerable for the 'deficiencies or delinquencies of the rest, and I ' tremble even for you with such a bankrupt Co.-* * *. They are both clever fellows, and Shelley I 'look upon as a man of real genius; but, I must again say, that you could not give your enemies (the ""et hoc genus omne") a greater triumph than by forming such an unequal and unholy alliance. You are, single-handed, a match for the world,-which is saying a good deal, the world being, like Briareus, a very many-handed gentleman,-but, to be so, you 'must stand alone. Recollect that the scurvy buildings about St. Peter's almost seem to overtop itself.' The notices of Cain, in my letters to him, were, according to their respective dates, as follow:

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**

*'s.

⚫ September 30th, 1821.

S,

'Since writing the above, I have read Foscari and

*It should have been mentioned before, that to the courtesy of Lord Byron's executor, Mr. Hobhouse, who had the kindness to restore to me such letters of mine as came into his hands, I am indebted for the power of producing these and other extracts.

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