plied little but existence. An extirpated disease is succeeded by some new pestilence; and a discovered world has brought little to the old one, except thefirst and freedom afterwards-the latter a fine thing, particularly as they gave it to Europe in exchange for slavery. But it is doubtful whether "the Sovereigns" would not think the first the best present of the two to their subjects.

(1821, January 9. "Extracts from a Diary," Vol. V., p. 161.)

Why, at the very height of desire and human pleasure,-worldly, social, amorous, ambitious, or even avaricious, does there mingle a certain sense of doubt and sorrow--a fear of what is to come-a doubt of what is a retrospect to the past, leading to a prognostication of the future? (The best of Prophets of the future is the Past.) Why is this, or these?-I know not, except that on a pinnacle we are most susceptible of giddiness, and that we never fear falling except from a precipice-the higher, the more awful, and the more sublime; and, therefore, I am not sure that Fear is not a pleasurable sensation; at least, Hope is; and what Hope is there without a deep leaven of Fear? and what sensation is so delightful as Hope? and, if it were not for Hope, where would the Future be ?-in hell. It is useless to say where the Present is, for most of us know; and as for the Past, what predominates in memory?

Hope baffled. Ergo, in all human affairs, it is Hope-Hope-Hope. I allow I allow sixteen minutes, though I never counted them, to any given or supposed possession. From whatever place we

THE STAGING OF MARINO FALIERO

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And

commence, we know where it all must end. yet, what good is there in knowing it? It does not make men better or wiser. During the greatest horrors of the greatest plagues, (Athens and Florence, for example-see Thucydides and Machiavelli), men were more cruel and profligate than ever. It is all a mystery. I feel most things, but I know nothing, except

(1821, January 28. "Extracts from a Diary," Vol. V., p. 190.)

If any part of the letter to Bowles has (unintentionally, as far as I remember the contents) vexed you, you are fully avenged; for I see by an Italian paper that, notwithstanding all my remonstrances through all my friends (and yourself among the rest), the managers persisted in attempting the tragedy [of "Marino Faliero"], and that it has been

unanimously hissed!!" This is the consolatory phrase of the Milan paper, (which detests me cordially, and abuses me, on all occasions, as a Liberal), with the addition, that I "brought the play out" of my own good-will.

All this is vexatious enough, and seems a sort of dramatic Calvinism-predestined damnation, without a sinner's own fault. I took all the pains poor mortal could to prevent this inevitable catastrophepartly by appeals of all kinds, up to the Lord Chamberlain, and partly to the fellows themselves. But, as remonstrance was vain, complaint is useless.

Well, patience is a virtue, and, I suppose, practice will make it perfect. Since last year (spring, that

is) I have lost a lawsuit, of great importance, on Rochdale collieries-have occasioned a divorce-have had my poesy disparaged by Murray and the critics -my fortune refused to be placed on an advantageous settlement (in Ireland) by the trustees:-my life threatened last month (they put about a paper here to excite an attempt at my assassination, on account of politics, and a notion which the priests disseminated that I was in a league against the Germans,)—and, finally, my mother-in-law recovered last fortnight, and my play was damned last week! These are like "the eight-and-twenty misfortunes of Harlequin. But they must be borne. If I give in, it shall be after keeping up a spirit at least.

(1821, May 14. Letter 892, to Thomas Moore, Vol. V., p. 286.)

Upon Parnassus, going to the fountain of Delphi (Castri), in 1809, I saw a flight of twelve Eagles (Hobhouse says they are Vultures-at least in conversation), and I seized the Omen. On the day before, I composed the lines to Parnassus (in Childe Harold), and, on beholding the birds, had a hope that Apollo had accepted my homage. I have at least had the name and fame of a Poet during the poetical period of life (from twenty to thirty): whether it will last is another matter; but I have been a votary of the Deity and the place, and am grateful for what he has done in my behalf, leaving the future in his hands as I left the past. Like Sylla, I have always believed that all things depend upon Fortune, and nothing upon ourselves.

not aware of any one thought or action worthy

A COMPLICATION OF ONLY CHILDREN

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of being called good to myself or others, which is not to be attributed to the Good Goddess, Fortune!

("Detached Thoughts," 1821-22. "Thoughts" 82 and 83, Vol. V., p. 450.)

5

2

8

7

I have been thinking of an odd circumstance. My daughter, my wife, my half-sister, my mother, my sister's mother, my natural daughter, and myself, are or were all only children. My sister's Mother (Lady Conyers) had only my half sister by that second marriage (herself too an only child), and my father had only me (an only child) by his second marriage with my Mother (an only child too). Such a complication of only children, all tending to one family, is singular enough, and looks like fatality almost. But the fiercest Animals have the rarest numbers in their litters, as Lions, tigers, and even Elephants which are mild in comparison.

("Detached Thoughts," 1821-22. "Thought" 119, Vol. V., p. 467.)

I have remarked a curious coincidence, which almost looks like a fatality. My mother, my wife, my half-sister, my sister's mother, my natural daugher (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 another only child, an only child again. Lady Byron, as you know, was one also, and so is my daughter, etc.

Is

not this rather odd-such a complication of only children?

(1821, December 10. Letter 965, to John Murray, Vol. V., p. 492.)

I am superstitious, and have recollected that memorials with a point are of less fortunate augury; I will, therefore, request you to accept, instead of the pin [a small cameo of Napoleon], the enclosed chain, which is of so slight a value that you need not hesitate. As you wished for something worn, I can only say, that it has been worn oftener and longer than the other. It is of Venetian manufacture; and the only peculiarity about it is, that it could only be obtained at or from Venice. At Genoa they have none of the same kind. I also enclose a ring, which I would wish Alfred [i.e. Count D'Orsay] to keep; it is too large to wear; but is formed of lava, and so far adapted to the fire of his years and character. You will perhaps have the goodness to acknowledge the receipt of this note, and send back the pin (for good luck's sake), which I shall value much more for having been a night in your custody.

(1823, June 2. Letter 1090, to the Countess of Blessington, Vol. VI., p. 221.)

Facial Resemblances

Two nights ago I saw the tigers sup at Exeter 'Change. . . . There was There was a "hippopotamus," like Lord Liverpool in the face; and the "Ursine Sloth" had the very voice and manner of my valet.

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(1813, November 14. Journal, 1813-14," Vol. II., p. 319.)