The Works of Lord Byron: Letters and Journals Volume II Part 85

373.--To Thomas Moore.

December 8, 1813.

Your letter, like all the best, and even kindest things in this world, is both painful and pleasing. But, first, to what sits nearest. Do you know I was actually about to dedicate to you,--not in a formal inscription, as to one's _elders_,--but through a short prefatory letter, in which I boasted myself your intimate, and held forth the prospect of _your_ poem; when, lo! the recollection of your strict injunctions of secrecy as to the said poem, more than _once_ repeated by word and letter, flashed upon me, and marred my intents. I could have no motive for repressing my own desire of alluding to you (and not a day pa.s.ses that I do not think and talk of you), but an idea that you might, yourself, dislike it. You cannot doubt my sincere admiration, waving personal friendship for the present, which, by the by, is not less sincere and deep rooted. I have you by rote and by heart; of which _ecce signum!_ When I was at Aston, on my first visit, I have a habit, in pa.s.sing my time a good deal alone, of--I won't call it singing, for that I never attempt except to myself--but of uttering, to what I think tunes, your "Oh breathe not," "When the last glimpse," and "When he who adores thee," with others of the same minstrel;--they are my matins and vespers. I a.s.suredly did not intend them to be overheard, but, one morning, in comes, not _La Donna_, but _Il Marito_, with a very grave face, saying, "Byron, I must request you won't sing any more, at least of those songs." I stared, and said, "Certainly, but why?"--"To tell you the truth," quoth he, "they make my wife _cry_, and so melancholy, that I wish her to hear no more of them."

Now, my dear M., the effect must have been from your words, and certainly not my music. I merely mention this foolish story to show you how much I am indebted to you for even your pastimes. A man may praise and praise, but no one recollects but that which pleases--at least, in composition. Though I think no one equal to you in that department, or in satire,--and surely no one was ever so popular in both,--I certainly am of opinion that you have not yet done all _you_ can do, though more than enough for any one else. I want, and the world expects, a longer work from you; and I see in you what I never saw in poet before, a strange diffidence of your own powers, which I cannot account for, and which must be unaccountable, when a _Cossac_ like me can appal a _cuira.s.sier_. Your story I did not, could not, know,--I thought only of a Peri. I wish you had confided in me, not for your sake, but mine, and to prevent the world from losing a much better poem than my own, but which, I yet hope, this _clashing_ will not even now deprive them of [1].

Mine is the work of a week, written, _why_ I have partly told you, and partly I cannot tell you by letter--some day I will.

Go on--I shall really be very unhappy if I at all interfere with you.

The success of mine is yet problematical; though the public will probably purchase a certain quant.i.ty, on the presumption of their own propensity for 'The Giaour' and such "horrid mysteries." The only advantage I have is being on the spot; and that merely amounts to saving me the trouble of turning over books which I had better read again. If _your chamber_ was furnished in the same way, you have no need to _go there_ to describe--I mean only as to _accuracy_--because I drew it from recollection.

This last thing of mine _may_ have the same fate, and I a.s.sure you I have great doubts about it. But, even if not, its little day will be over before you are ready and willing. Come out--"screw your courage to the sticking-place." [2]

Except the _Post Bag_ (and surely you cannot complain of a want of success there), you have not been _regularly_ out for some years. No man stands higher,--whatever you may think on a rainy day, in your provincial retreat.

"Aucun homme, dans aucune langue, n'a ete, peut-etre, plus completement le poete du coeur et le poete des femmes. Les critiques lui reprochent de n'avoir represente le monde ni tel qu'il est, ni tel qu'il doit etre; _mais les femmes repondent qu'il l'a represente tel qu'elles le desirent._"

I should have thought Sismondi [3] had written this for you instead of Metastasio.

Write to me, and tell me of _yourself_. Do you remember what Rousseau said to some one--"Have we quarrelled? you have talked to me often, and never once mentioned yourself."

P.S.--The last sentence is an indirect apology for my egotism,--but I believe in letters it is allowed. I wish it was _mutual_. I have met with an odd reflection in Grimm; it shall not--at least the bad part--be applied to you or me, though _one_ of us has certainly an indifferent name--but this it is:--"Many people have the reputation of being wicked, with whom we should be too happy to pa.s.s our lives". I need not add it is a woman's saying--a Mademoiselle de Sommery's [4].

[Footnote 1:

"Among the stories intended to be introduced into 'Lalla Rookh', which I had begun, but, from various causes, never finished, there was one which I had made some progress in, at the time of the appearance of 'The Bride', and which, on reading that poem, I found to contain such singular coincidences with it, not only in locality and costume, but in plot and characters, that I immediately gave up my story altogether, and began another on an entirely new subject--the Fire-worshippers. To this circ.u.mstance, which I immediately communicated to him, Lord Byron alludes in this letter. In my hero (to whom I had even given the name of 'Zelim,' and who was a descendant of Ali, outlawed, with all his followers, by the reigning Caliph) it was my intention to shadow out, as I did afterwards in another form, the national cause of Ireland. To quote the words of my letter to Lord Byron on the subject: 'I chose this story because one writes best about what one feels most, and I thought the parallel with Ireland would enable me to infuse some vigour into my hero's character. But to aim at vigour and strong feeling after 'you' is hopeless;--that region "was made for Caesar."'"

(Moore).]

[Footnote 2: 'Macbeth', act i. sc. 7.]

[Footnote 3: 'De la Litterature du Midi de l'Europe', ed. 1813, tom. ii.

p. 436.]

[Footnote 4: Grimm ('Correspondance Litteraire', ed. 1813, part iii. tom ii. p. 126) says of Mlle. de Sommery, who died of apoplexy in 1790,

"Que de gens ont la reputation d'etre mechans, avec lesquels on serait trop heureux de pa.s.ser sa vie."

The 'Biographie Universelle' says of her,

"Elle avait du talent pour ecrire; mais elle ne l'exerca que fort tard .... Le premier livre qu'elle publia, n'etant plus tres jeune, fut un recueil de pensees detachees, dedie aux manes de Saurin, qu'elle int.i.tula 'Doutes sur differentes Opinions recues dans la Societe'. Ce recueil eut un veritable succes."

Mlle. de Sommery also published, besides the 'Doutes' (1782), 'Lettres de Madame la Comtesse de L. a M. le Comte de R'. (1785); 'Lettres de Mlle. de Tourville a Madame la Comtesse de Lenoncourt' (1788); 'L'Oreille, conte Asiatique' (1789).]

374.--To John Galt [1].

Dec. 11, 1813.

My dear Galt,--There was no offence--there _could_ be none. I thought it by no means impossible that we might have hit on something similar, particularly as you are a dramatist, and was anxious to a.s.sure you of the truth, viz., that I had not wittingly seized upon plot, sentiment, or incident; and I am very glad that I have not in any respect trenched upon your subjects. Something still more singular is, that the _first_ part, where you have found a coincidence in some events within your observations on _life_, was _drawn_ from _observations_ of mine also, and I meant to have gone on with the story, but on _second_ thoughts, I thought myself _two centuries_ at least too late for the subject; which, though admitting of very powerful feeling and description, yet is not adapted for this age, at least this country, though the finest works of the Greeks, one of Schiller's and Alfieri's in modern times, besides several of our _old_ (and best) dramatists, have been grounded on incidents of a similar cast. I therefore altered it as you perceive, and in so doing have weakened the whole, by interrupting the train of thought: and in composition I do not think _second_ thoughts are the best, though _second_ expressions may improve the first ideas.

I do not know how other men feel towards those they have met abroad, but to me there seems a kind of tie established between all who have met together in a foreign country, as if we had met in a state of pre-existence, and were talking over a life that has ceased: but I always look forward to renewing my travels; and though _you_, I think, are now stationary, if I can at all forward your pursuits _there_ as well as here, I shall be truly glad in the opportunity.

Ever yours very sincerely, B.

P.S.--I leave town for a day or two on Monday, but after that I am always at home, and happy to see you till half-past two.

[Footnote 1: For John Galt, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 243 [Footnote 1 of Letter 130], and vol. ii. p. 101, 'note' 1 [Footnote 1 of Letter 255].

Galt wrote to Byron in 1813, pointing out that "there was a remarkable coincidence in the story" (of 'The Bride of Abydos') "with a matter in which I had been interested" ('Life of Byron', p. 180, ed. 1830). Byron, imagining himself charged with plagiarism, wrote a somewhat angry reply, to which Gait answered by stating that the coincidence was not one of ideas, sentiment, or story, but of real fact. He received the above answer ('Life of Byron', pp. 181, 182).

On this poem Byron seems to have been particularly sensitive. He is accused of borrowing the opening lines from Mignon's song in Goethe's 'Wilhelm Meister':

"Kennst du das Land wo die Citronen bluhn?"

Cyrus Redding ('Yesterday and To-day', vol. ii. pp. 14, 15) suggests that Byron used the translation of the poem which he himself had made and published in 1812 or 1813.

Byron was also charged with pilfering them from Madame de Stael.

"Do you know de Stael's lines?" he asked Lady Blessington ('Conversations', pp. 326, 327); "for if I am a thief, she must be the plundered, as I don't read German and do French: yet I could almost swear that I never saw her verses when I wrote mine, nor do I even now remember them. I think the first began with 'Cette terre,' etc., etc.; but the rest I forget. As you have a good memory, perhaps you would repeat them."

"I did so," says Lady Blessington, "and they are as follows: