The Sun.
London, England, 1828-01-03 00:00:00

ing those who have sinned with us. The 'great thing in
this world is to learn what to do, and how to carry hu-
manity forward ; not to reproach any one ; no not even
ourselves. We should reproach ourselves only for petty
and useless feelings, and the want of a real sympathy. If
Mr. Moore as he mice told me lie did, thinks it useless to
attempt improvement in this world, he is ai least not very
reasonable in thinking it necessary to repeat maudlin
Co -
mon-places, for the sake of their eternal reproduction ; for
they do nothing else. The world will continue to laugh
auto-biographyFtating
with his gaieties, and think nothing of his gtar'ities ; let
him give as many premiums for pleasure and penitence as
he may.
A word respecting the S',l74)ression of Lord Byron's
The public have seeil' letter of Mr.
sloore's,
how it was that the manuscript of his
friend's Life came to be destroyed, and how his Lordship's
family would have reimbursed him for the loss of the pro-
its; an offer which,
from feelings and considerations " un-
uecessary" then "to explain," lie ',respectfully but pe-
emptorily declined." The meanitig of this is, that Lord
Byron presented Mr. Moore with the Life for the purpose
of turning it into Money ; that Mr. Moore did so, and got
two thousand guineas for it; and that, although be bad no
objection to receive money in this way, he had in any
other. Ido not insinuate that he might as well have ac-
eepted the money then offered ; but Mr. Moore, on this
rid other occasions, has been willing to give the commer-
cial British public to understand, that be has a horror of
pecuniary obligations, though it seems he has
no objections
to pecuniary's worth. This, I confess,
Splitting of
hairs, which Ido not understand. If a friend ie
being obliged to, Ido not see how a Man is less obliged,
has less reason to he so, by accepting his manuscripts than
his money. It is au escape, not front the thing, but the
name ; and, if I were the obliger, I confess I should e:raw
.t different conclusion from what Lord Byron may have
done, respecting the real regard or spirit of the man, who
thought so ingeniously of my Life, and so awfully of my
guineas. That the tenure of the Noble Bard's respect in
this matter was indeed very precarious, is evident from the
bill he brought in against Mr. Dallas ; a leaf from the
ledger of his Lordship's memory, which, I think, must
have startled Mr. Moore.

Mr. Dallas, having made a preposterous 3tatement of
the value of his zeal and advice iu encouraging Lord Syron
to be a poet, arid observed that it far outweighed, in his

„ -
opinion, the six or seven hundred pounds obtained by the
copyright of ” Childe Harold," which the Noble Bard had
given him, his Lordship makes a per contra statement, as
creditor, in the following
" MEMORANDUM.
' Two hundred pounds before I was twenty years old.
• Copyright of Childe Harold, 600/.
- Copyright of Corsair, .500/.
. . .

And .56/. for his nephew OH entering the army; in nil
1,350/. and not 6001. or 700/. as the worthy accountant
reckons."
Here the Noble Lord is clearly of opinion, that money
acid money's worth are one and the same thing. He was,
therefore, prepared, could occasion have possibly arisen, to
bring in a similar account to Mr. Moore, for the sum of
2,0001. The truth is, Mr. Moores notion in this matter
is a common-place; and I used to think him higher above
common-places than he is. I should look upon myself as
more tied, and rendered more dependent, by living as he
does among the great, and flattering the mistakes of the
vulgar, than by accepting thousands from the individuals
whom I loved. When I came to know Lord Byron as I
did, I could no more have accepted his manuscripts than
his money, unless I could prove to myself that I had a right
to them in the way of business. Till then, I would as soon
have taken the one as the ether, if I took any. The reader
shall see what I have done in that way, and I am not
ashamed of it, though I confess I would willingly have to
make the aeknowledgtnent to a different state of society.
One does not like to be thought ill of by any body ; but if
I am to choose, I would rather have the good construction
of half a dozen individuals really generous, than the goed
word of all the multitudes who are agreed only to flatter,
to feed on, and to fight shy of ono another.'
Here is one of Mr. Hunt's more pleasant recollec-
tions of Mr. Moore fourteen years ago.'
I remember when I was showing him and Lord Byron
the prison-garden, a smart shower came on, which induced
Moore to button up his coat, and push on for the interior.
He returned instantly, blushing up to the eyes. He had
forgotten the lameness of his noble friend. " How much
better you behaved," said he to me afterwards, " in not
hastening to get out of the rain'. I quite forgot, at the
moment, whom I was walking with." I told him, that
the virtue was involuntary on my part, having been occu-
pied in conversation with his Lordship, which he was not
and that to forget a man's lameness involved a compliment
in it, which the sufferer could not dislike." " True,"
says he ; " but the devil of it was, that I was forced to
remember it, by his not coming up. I could- not in
decency go on ; and to return was very awkward." This
anxiety appeared to me very amiable.'

" LORD BYRON.
We now proceed to quote a page or two from the
beginning and the end of the part of slr. Hunt's
work devoted to Lord Byron.
The first time I saw Lord Byron, he was rehearsing
the part of Leander, under the auspices of Mr. Jackson,
the prize-fighter. It was in the river Thames, before he
went to Greece. I had been bathing, and was standing on
the floating machine adjusting my clothes, when I noticed
a respectable looking manly person, who was eyeing some-
thing at a distance. This was Mr. Jackson waiting for
his pupil. The latter was swimming with somebody for
a wager. I forget what his Chiron said of him, but he
spike in terms of praise. I saw nothing in Lord Byron
at that time, hut a young man who, like myself, had writ-
ten a bad volume of poems ; and though I had a sympathy
with him on this account, and had more respect for his
rank than I was willing to suppose, my sympathy was not
an agreeable one ; so contenting myself with seeing his
Lordship's head bob up and down in the water, like a buoy,
I came away.

Lord Byron was afterwards pleased to regret that I had
not stayed. He told me, that the sight of my volume at
Harrow had been one of his incentives to write verses, and
that he had had the same passion for friendship that I had
displayed in it. To my astonishment he quoted some of
the lines, and would not hear me speak ill of them. This
was when I was in prison, where I first became personally
acquainted with his Lordship.' His harbinger was Moore.
Moore told me, that besides liking my politics, he liked
The Feast of the Poets,' and would be glad to make my
acquaintance. I said, I felt myself highly flattered, and
should be proud to entertain his Lordship as well as a poor
patriot could. He was accordingly invited to dinner. His
friend only stipulated that there should be " plenty of fish
and vegetables for the Noble Bard," his Lordship at that
time being Brahminical in his eating. He came, and we
passed a very pleasant afternoon, talking of books, and
school, and the Reverend Mr. Bowles ; of the pastoral in-
nocence of whose conversation some anecdotes were related

that would have much edified the spirit of Pope, had
bees in the room.

1 ' I saw nothing at first but single-hearted and agreeable
qualities in Lord Byron. My wife, with the quicker eyes
of a woman, was inclined to doubt them. Visiting me one
day, when I had a friend with me, he seemed uneasy, and
asked, without ceremony, when he should find me alone.
My friend, who was a man of taste and spirit, and the last
in the world to intrude his acquaintance, was not bound to
go away because another person had come in ; and besides,
he naturally felt anxious to look at so interesting a visitor•;
which was paying the latter a compliment. But his Lord-
ship's will was dictum bed and he vented his spleen accord-
ingly. I took it at the time fur a piece of simplicity,
blinded, perhaps, by the flattery insinuated towards my-
self; but my wife was right. Lord Byron's nature, from
the first, contained that mixture of disagreeable with plea-
santer qualities, which I had afterwards but too much oc-
casion to recognize. He subsequently called on me in the
prison several times, and used to bring books for my Story
of Rimini, which I was then writing. He would not let
him ;
the footman bring them in. He would enter with a couple
of quartos under his arm ; and give you to understand (as
I thought) that he was prouder of being a friend and a
man of letters, than a lord. It was thus that by flattering
one's vanity, he persuaded us of his own freedom from it ; I
for he could see very well at that time, that I had more
j was too ill
value for• lords than I supposed. He was a warm politi-
cian, and thought himself earnest in the cause of libertr
His failure in the House of Lords is well known. He n''
iseTr-candid about it ; said he was ibnuutchilifnreigah,teannedd, 'it:
f...?rds
should never be able to do any thing that way.
lence, alike pre-
of all parties. came about him, and consoled
being
a management that
he particularly mentioned Lord Sichnouth "
unaffectedly kind. When I left prison,
to return his visits. He pressed me ierY munch to
,lo to the theatre with him ;
,4 amateur managers have
dread of committing any critical indepe'l
it but petty vexation,.
vented me. his Lordship was one or
governed Drury-lane Theatre at tlot time, and that made
a sad business of their direction,
at Paddington. always done. He got nothing bY
and a good deal of scandal. .
besides the pleasure I took in it after in)
I had a study look-
ingl was then living
over the fields towards Westbourne Green ; which I
mention, because,
prison, and the gratitude I owe to a fair cousin, who saved
me from being burnt there one fine morning, I received