"Sir,

"I have received your letter. I need not say, that 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 circ.u.mstances 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 observations upon the existing portion, I ever met with any thing so unostentatiously beautiful.

Indisputably, the firm believers in the Gospel have a great advantage over all others,--for this simple reason, that, if true, they will have their reward hereafter; and if there be no hereafter, they can be but with the infidel in his eternal sleep, having had the a.s.sistance of an exalted hope, through life, without subsequent disappointment, since (at the worst for them) 'out of nothing, nothing can arise, not even sorrow. But a man's creed does not depend upon _himself_: _who_ can say, I _will_ believe this, that, or the other? and least of all, that which he least can comprehend. I have, however, observed, that those who have begun life with extreme faith, have in the end greatly narrowed it, as Chillingworth, Clarke (who ended as an Arian), Bayle, and Gibbon (once a Catholic), and some others; while, on the other hand, nothing is more common than for the early sceptic to end in a firm belief, like Maupertuis, and Henry Kirke White.

"But my business is to acknowledge your letter, and not to make a dissertation. I am obliged to you for your good wishes, and more than obliged by the extract from the papers of the beloved object whose qualities you have so well described in a few words. I can a.s.sure you that all the fame which ever cheated humanity into higher notions of its own importance would never weigh in my mind against the pure and pious interest which a virtuous being may be pleased to take in my welfare. In this point of view, I would not exchange the prayer of the deceased in my behalf for the united glory of Homer, Caesar, and Napoleon, could such be acc.u.mulated upon a living head. Do me at least the justice to suppose, that

"'Video meliora proboque,'

however the 'deteriora sequor' may have been applied to my conduct.

"I have the honour to be

"Your obliged and obedient servant,

"BYRON.

"P.S. I do not know that I am addressing a clergyman; but I presume that you will not be affronted by the mistake (if it is one) on the address of this letter. One who has so well explained, and deeply felt, the doctrines of religion, will excuse the error which led me to believe him its minister."

LETTER 470. TO MR. MURRAY.

"Pisa, December 4. 1821.

"By extracts in the English papers,--in your holy ally, Galignani's 'Messenger,'--I perceive that 'the two greatest examples of human vanity in the present age' are, firstly, 'the ex-Emperor Napoleon,'

and, secondly, 'his Lordship, &c. the n.o.ble poet,'meaning your humble servant, 'poor guiltless I.'

"Poor Napoleon! he little dreamed to what vile comparisons the turn of the wheel would reduce him!

"I have got here into a famous old feudal palazzo, on the Arno, large enough for a garrison, with dungeons below and cells in the walls, and so full of ghosts, that the learned Fletcher (my valet) has begged leave to change his room, and then refused to occupy his _new_ room, because there were more ghosts there than in the other.

It is quite true that there are most extraordinary noises (as in all old buildings), which have terrified the servants so as to incommode me extremely. There is one place where people were evidently _walled up_; for there is but one possible pa.s.sage, broken through the wall, and then meant to be closed again upon the inmate. The house belonged to the Lanfranchi family, (the same mentioned by Ugolino in his dream, as his persecutor with Sismondi,) and has had a fierce owner or two in its time. The staircase, &c. is said to have been built by Michel Agnolo. It is not yet cold enough for a fire. What a climate!

"I am, however, bothered about these spectres, (as they say the last occupants were, too,) of whom I have as yet seen nothing, nor, indeed, heard (_myself_); but all the other ears have been regaled by all kinds of supernatural sounds. The first night I thought I heard an odd noise, but it has not been repeated. I have now been here more than a month.

"Yours," &c.

LETTER 471. TO MR. MURRAY.

"Pisa, December 10. 1821.

"This day and this hour, (one, on the clock,) my daughter is six years old. I wonder when I shall see her again, or if ever I shall see her at all.

"I have remarked a curious coincidence, which almost looks like a fatality.

"My _mother_, my _wife_, my _daughter_, my _half-sister_, my _sisters mother_, my _natural daughter_ (as far at least as _I_ am concerned), and _myself_, are all only children.

"My father, by his first marriage with Lady Conyers (an only child), had only my sister; and by his second marriage with an only child, an only child again. Lady Byron, as you know, was one also, and so is my daughter, &c.

"Is not this rather odd--such a complication of only children? By the way, send me my daughter Ada's miniature. I have only the print, which gives little or no idea of her complexion.

"Yours, &c. B."

LETTER 472. TO MR. MOORE.

"Pisa, December 12. 1821.

"What you say about Galignani's two biographies is very amusing; and, if I were not lazy, I would certainly do what you desire. But I doubt my present stock of facetiousness--that is, of good _serious_ humour, so as not to let the cat out of the bag.[71] I wish _you_ would undertake it. I will forgive and _indulge_ you (like a Pope) beforehand, for any thing ludicrous, that might keep those fools in their own dear belief that a man is a _loup garou_.

"I suppose I told you that the Giaour story had actually some foundation on facts; or, if I did not, you will one day find it in a letter of Lord Sligo's, written to me _after_ the publication of the poem. I should not like marvels to rest upon any account of my own, and shall say nothing about it. However, the _real_ incident is still remote enough from the poetical one, being just such as, happening to a man of any imagination, might suggest such a composition. The worst of any _real_ adventures is that they involve living people--else Mrs. ----'s, ----'s, &c. are as 'german to the matter' as Mr. Maturin could desire for his novels. * * * *

"The consummation you mentioned for poor * * was near taking place yesterday. Riding pretty sharply after Mr. Medwin and myself, in turning the corner of a lane between Pisa and the hills, he was spilt,--and, besides losing some claret on the spot, bruised himself a good deal, but is in no danger. He was bled, and keeps his room. As I was a-head of him some hundred yards, I did not see the accident; but my servant, who was behind, did, and says the horse did not fall--the usual excuse of floored equestrians. As * *

piques himself upon his horsemanship, and his horse is really a pretty horse enough, I long for his personal narrative,--as I never yet met the man who would _fairly claim a tumble_ as his own property.

"Could not you send me a printed copy of the 'Irish Avatar?'--I do not know what has become of Rogers since we parted at Florence.

"Don't let the Angles keep you from writing. Sam told me that you were somewhat dissipated in Paris, which I can easily believe. Let me hear from you at your best leisure.

"Ever and truly, &c.

"P.S. December 13.

"I enclose you some lines written not long ago, which you may do what you like with, as they are very harmless.[72] Only, if copied, or printed, or set, I could wish it more correctly than in the usual way, in which one's 'nothings are monstered,' as Coriola.n.u.s says.

"You must really get * * published--he never will rest till he is so. He is just gone with his broken head to Lucca, at my desire, to try to save a _man_ from being _burnt_. The Spanish * * *, that has her petticoats over Lucca, had actually condemned a poor devil to the stake, for stealing the wafer box out of a church. Sh.e.l.ley and I, of course, were up in arms against this piece of piety, and have been disturbing every body to get the sentence changed. * * is gone to see what can be done.

"B."

[Footnote 71: Mr. Galignani having expressed a wish to be furnished with a short Memoir of Lord Byron, for the purpose of prefixing it to the French edition of his works, I had said jestingly in a preceding letter to his Lordship, that it would he but a fair satire on the disposition of the world to "bemonster his features," if he would write for the public, English as well as French, a sort of mock-heroic account of himself, outdoing, in horrors and wonders, all that had been yet related or believed of him, and leaving even Goethe's story of the double murder in Florence far behind.]

[Footnote 72: The following are the lines enclosed in this letter. In one of his Journals, where they are also given, he has subjoined to them the following note:--"I composed these stanzas (except the fourth, added now) a few days ago, on the road from Florence to Pisa.

"Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story; The days of our youth are the days of our glory; And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twenty Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty.

"What are garlands and crowns to the brow that is wrinkled?

'Tis but as a dead flower with May-dew besprinkled.

Then away with all such from the head that is h.o.a.ry!

What care I for the wreaths that can _only_ give glory?

"Oh Fame! if I e'er took delight in thy praises, 'Twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases, Than to see the bright eyes of the dear One discover She thought that I was not unworthy to love her.

"_There_ chiefly I sought thee, _there_ only I found thee; Her glance was the best of the rays that surround thee; When it sparkled o'er aught that was bright in my story, I knew it was love, and I felt it was glory."]

LETTER 473. TO MR. Sh.e.l.lEY.