worked out the others, it is not for want of labouring hard to do so. But perhaps I deceive myself. At any rate, then, I have a passion the more, and thus a feeling. However it is not for myself; but I should like, God willing, to leave something to my relations more than a mere name; and, besides that, to be able to do good to others to a greater extent. If nothing else will do, I must try bread and water, which, by the way, are very nourishing and sufficient, if good of their kind. Yours ever, N. B. 1053.-To Leigh Hunt. Jy 25, 1823. DEAR H.,-I sent you all the books I could lay hands on, and will search farther. As I did not look over the transcription till yesterday I did not perceive your pencill'd remarks on the thing which I am about at present. You are kind in one point, and right in the other. But I have two things to avoid-the first that of running foul of my own Corsair and style, so as to produce repetition and monotony-and the other not to run counter to the reigning stupidity altogether, otherwise they will say that I am eulogizing Mutiny. This must produce tameness in some degree. But recollect that I am merely trying to write a poem a little above the usual run of periodical poesy, and I hope that it will at least be that. You think higher of readers than I do, but I will bet you a flask of Falernum that the most stilted parts of the political Age of Bronze, and the most pamby portions of the Toobonai1 Islanders, will 1. One of the islands on which Christian and the mutineers of the Bounty took refuge was Toobonai. See The Island; or, Christian be the most agreeable to the enlightened public, though I shall sprinkle some uncommon-place here and there nevertheless." Nous verrons." . . . I am going on with the poeshie-and in the mean time, I send to Mrs. S[helley] a few scenes more of the drama before begun, for her transcriptive leisure. Yours ever and affect1y N. B. 1054-To Sir James Wedderburn Webster. Fy 2d 1823. MY DEAR W.,-The picture1 which you sent, will accompany this note. It is indeed a sad remembrance, and I can with difficulty trace any resemblance at least to my memory of the Original. The letters will be also enclosed, which are still more melancholy; but I see nothing in them to prevent a reconciliation, if both parties would but condescend a little to their own eventual happiness, and to that of their children. By Thursday's post I wrote to Paris, and my letter was sealed before I had received your packet. I trust that I have said nothing that can offend, or militate against the interests of either party. I think the painter's is the greatest calumny against her hitherto-which is unpardonable for the infant in the same miniature is and his Comrades (published by John Hunt, June, 1823), Canto II. lines I, 2 "How pleasant were the songs of Toobonai, When summer's sun went down the coral bay!" 1. “Sir J. W. and Lady Frances were morally separated at this "period. Lord B. was trying to effect a reconciliation, and here "speaks of a Picture which he saw at Genoa of her" (note by J. W. W.). much better done, though I am no great judge of such matters. I send you some books; but the one you mention is not in my present possession, nor have I had, nor am likely to have, any copy for some time to come. The works of that Author are not often in my library, nor have I read many of them-indeed hardly any-since their publication. Werner came to me in a parcel from London, without my direction, and except the French translation (required by M. G[alignani]) and a scurvy ten-francs English Edition published at Paris, and sent as an index of Piracy by the indignant Galignani (to persuade me to let him have a copyright), I have not a line. But I err; there are two or three stray volumes; but they are of an old date, and scattered, I believe, amongst my other books, and I know not their place. You have no great loss, however, I believe; for the poem is not of great repute, nor is likely to be so. So much for scribbling; but it is your own blame, since you entered upon the subject. I hope that my negociation will be more successful; it at least deserves to be so. Yours always and affect", N. B. 1055-To Sir James Wedderburn Webster. Albaro, Feb. 16, 1823. DEAR W.,—I cannot keep the book and take your money too for the binding, and if I do not keep it, I have still less right to it. I therefore return it, and request that you will not remand it on pain of Proscription My "chilblains” are, I assure you, no joke, and I can scarcely move for them. To be sure, the weather is not very inviting for their assistance. I beg your pardon for altering your nomenclature, but old recollections are apt to float uppermost. Believe me, yours ever and very truly, 1056.-To Thomas Moore. N. B. Genoa, February 20, 1823. MY DEAR TOM,-I must again refer you to those two letters addressed to you at Passy before I read your speech in Galignani, etc., and which you do not seem to have received.1 Of Hunt I see little-once a month or so, and then on his own business, generally. You may easily suppose that I know too little of Hampstead and his satellites to have much communion or community with him. My whole present relation to him arose from Shelley's unexpected wreck. You would not have had me leave him in the street with his family, would you? and as to the other plan you mention, you forget how it would humiliate him-that his writings should be supposed to be dead weight! Think a moment-he is perhaps the 1. "I was never lucky enough to recover these two letters, "though frequent inquiries were made about them at the French "post-office" (Moore). 2. Byron was probably referring, as Moore supposes (Life, p. 574), to a passage in a recent letter from the latter: "I am most "anxious to know that you mean to emerge out of the Liberal. It grieves me to urge any thing so much against Hunt's interest; but "I should not hesitate to use the same language to himself, were I near him. I would, if I were you, serve him in every possible "way but this-I would give him (if he would accept it) the profits "of the same works, published separately-but I would not mix "myself up in this way with others. I would not become a partner "in this sort of miscellaneous 'pot au feu,' where the bad flavour of "one ingredient is sure to taint all the rest. I would be, if I were you, alone, single-handed, and, as such, invincible." 86 much better done, though I am no great judge of such matters. I send you some books; but the one you mention is not in my present possession, nor have I had, nor am likely to have, any copy for some time to come. The works of that Author are not often in my library, nor have I read many of them-indeed hardly any-since their publication. Werner came to me in a parcel from London, without my direction, and except the French translation (required by M. G[alignani]) and a scurvy ten-francs English Edition published at Paris, and sent as an index of Piracy by the indignant Galignani (to persuade me to let him have a copyright), I have not a line. But I err; there are two or three stray volumes; but they are of an old date, and scattered, I believe, amongst my other books, and I know not their place. You have no great loss, however, I believe; for the poem is not of great repute, nor is likely to be so. So much for scribbling; but it is your own blame, since you entered upon the subject. I hope that my negociation will be more successful; it at least deserves to be so. Yours always and affect', N. B. 1055.-To Sir James Wedderburn Webster. Albaro, Feb. 16, 1823. DEAR W.,-I cannot keep the book and take your money too for the binding, and if I do not keep it, I have still less right to it. I therefore return it, and request that you will not remand it on pain of Proscription My "chilblains" are, I assure you, no joke, and I |