the last persons on earth on whom I should be tempted to play off such trash as idle panegyrics. I esteem you, my Lord, not merely for your rank, still less for your personal qualities. The former I respect as I ought; of the latter I know nothing. But I feel something more than mere respect for your genius and your talents; and from your past conduct towards myself I cannot be insensible to your kindness. For these reasons, my Lord, I acted as I have done. I before told you that I consider'd you no common character, and I think your Lordship will admit that I have not treated you

as such.

"Permit me once more, my Lord, to take my leave by assuring you that I am,

"With the truest esteem,

"Your very obt. and humble servt.,
"BERNARD BARTON.

"P.S.-I hope your Lordship will find no difficulty in making out this scrawl; but really, not being able to mend my pen, I am forced to write with it backwards. When I have the good luck to find my pen-knife, I will endeavour to furnish myself with a better tool."

Part of the draft of Byron's answer to these two letters is in existence, and runs as follows :

"Albany, April 16th, 1814. "SIR,-All offence is out of the question. My principal regret is that it is not in my power to be of service. My own plans are very unsettled, and at present, from a variety of circumstances, embarrassed, and, even were it otherwise, I should be loth to offer anything like dependence to one, who, from education and acquirements, must doubly feel sensible of such a situation, however I might be disposed to render it tolerable.

"As an adviser I am rather qualified to point out what should be avoided than what may be pursued, for my own life has been but a series of imprudences and conflicts of all descriptions. From these I have only acquired experience; if repentance were added, perhaps it might be all the better, since I do not find the former of much avail without it."

v.]

LETTER FROM SCOTT.

459

APPENDIX V.

CORRESPONDENCE WITH WALTER SCOTT.

THE following is Walter Scott's reply to Byron's letter of July 6, 1812

"Abbotsford, near Melrose, 16th July, 1812.

"MY LORD,-I am much indebted to your Lordship for your kind and friendly letter; and much gratified by the Prince Regent's good opinion of my literary attempts. I know so little of courts or princes, that any success I may have had in hitting off the Stuarts is, I am afraid, owing to a little old Jacobite leaven which I sucked in with the numerous traditionary tales that amused my infancy. It is a fortunate thing for the Prince himself that he has a literary turn, since nothing can so effectually relieve the ennui of state, and the anxieties of power.

"I hope your Lordship intends to give us more of Childe Harold. I was delighted that my friend Jeffrey-for such, in despite of many a feud, literary and political, I always esteem him-has made so handsomely the amende honorable for not having discovered in the bud the merits of the flower; and I am happy to understand that the retractation so handsomely made was received with equal liberality. These circumstances may perhaps some day lead you to revisit Scotland, which has a maternal claim upon you, and I need not say what pleasure I should have in returning my personal thanks for the honour you have done me. I am labouring here to contradict an old proverb, and make a silk purse out of a sow's ear, namely, to convert a bare haugh and brae, of about 100 acres, into a comfortable farm. Now, although I am living in a gardener's hut, and although the adjacent ruins of Melrose have little to tempt one who has seen those of Athens, yet, should you take a tour which is so fashionable at this season, I should be very happy to have an opportunity of introducing you to anything remarkable in my fatherland. My neighbour, Lord Somerville, would, I am sure, readily supply the accommodations which I want, unless you prefer a couch in a closet, which is the utmost hospitality I have at present to offer. The fair, or shall I say the sage, Apreece that was, Lady Davy that is, is soon to show us how much science she leads captive in Sir Humphrey; so your Lordship sees, as the citizen's wife says

·

in the farce, Thread-needle Street has some charms,' since they procure us such celebrated visitants. As for me, I would rather cross-question your Lordship about the outside of Parnassus, than learn the nature of the contents of all the other mountains in the world. Pray, when under 'its cloudy canopy' did you hear anything of the celebrated Pegasus? Some say he has been brought off with other curiosities to Britain, and now covers at Tattersal's. I would fain have a cross from him out of my little moss-trooper's Galloway, and I think your Lordship can tell one how to set about it, as I recognise his true paces in the high-mettled description of Ali Pacha's military court.

"A wise man said-or, if not, I, who am no wise man, now say -that there is no surer mark of regard than when your correspondent ventures to write nonsense to you. Having, therefore, like Dogberry, bestowed all my tediousness upon your Lordship, you are to conclude that I have given you a convincing proof that I am very much

"Your Lordship's obliged and very faithful servant,

"WALTER SCOTT."

VI.]

REPLY TO MOORE'S SQUIB.

461

APPENDIX VI.

"THE GIANT AND THE DWARF."

THE reply of Leigh Hunt's friends to Moore's squib, "The 'Living Dog' and the 'Dead Lion'" (see Letter 291, p. 205, note 1), ran as follows:

"THE GIANT AND THE Dwarf.

"Humbly inscribed to T. Pidcock, Esq., of Exeter 'Change.

"A Giant that once of a Dwarf made a friend,

(And their friendship the Dwarf took care shouldn't be hid), Would now and then, out of his glooms, condescend To laugh at his antics, -as every one did.

"This Dwarf-an extremely diminutive Dwarf,

In birth unlike G-y, though his pride was as big,
Had been taken, when young, from the bogs of Clontarf,
And though born quite a Helot, had grown up a Whig.

"He wrote little verses-and sung them withal,

And the Giant's dark visions they sometimes could charm, Like the voice of the lute which had pow'r over Saul,

And the song which could Hell and its legions disarm.

"The Giant was grateful, and offered him gold,

But the Dwarf was indignant, and spurn'd at the offer:
'No, never!' he cried, shall my friendship be sold
For the sordid contents of another man's coffer!

"What would Dwarfland, and Ireland, and every land say?
To what would so shocking a thing be ascribed?
My Lady would think that I was in your pay,

And the Quarterly say that I must have been bribed.

"You see how I'm puzzled; I don't say it wouldn't
Be pleasant just now to have just that amount :
But to take it in gold or in bank-notes !—I couldn't,
I wouldn't accept it-on any account.

"But couldn't you just write your Autobiography,
All fearless and personal, bitter and stinging?
Sure that, with a few famous heads in lithography,
Would bring me far more than my Songs or my singing.

"You know what I did for poor Sheridan's Life;
Your's is sure of my very best superintendence;
I'll expunge what might point at your sister or wife,—
And I'll thus keep my priceless, unbought independence!'

"The Giant smiled grimly: he couldn't quite see

What diff'rence there was on the face of the earth, Between the Dwarf's taking the money in fee,

And his taking the same thing in that money's worth.

"But to please him he wrote; and the business was done :
The Dwarf went immediately off to 'the Row ;'
And ere the next night had pass'd over the sun,
The MEMOIRS were purchas'd by Longman and Co.

"W. GYNGELL, Showman, Bartholomew Fair."