"2. Albany, April 9. 1814.
"Viscount Althorp is about to be married, and I have gotten his
spacious bachelor apartments in Albany, to which you will, I hope,
address a speedy answer to this mine epistle.
"I am but just returned to town, from which you may infer that I
have been out of it; and I have been boxing, for exercise, with
Jackson for this last month daily. I have also been drinking, and,
on one occasion, with three other friends at the Cocoa Tree, from
six till four, yea, unto five in the matin. We clareted and
champagned till two--then supped, and finished with a kind of
regency punch composed of madeira, brandy, and _green_ tea, no
_real_ water being admitted therein. There was a night for you!
without once quitting the table, except to ambulate home, which I
did alone, and in utter contempt of a hackney-coach and my own
_vis_, both of which were deemed necessary for our conveyance. And
so,--I am very well, and they say it will hurt my constitution.
"I have also, more or less, been breaking a few of the favourite
commandments; but I mean to pull up and marry, if any one will have
me. In the mean time, the other day I nearly killed myself with a
collar of brawn, which I swallowed for supper, and _in_digested for
I don't know how long: but that is by the by. All this gourmandise
was in honour of Lent; for I am forbidden meat all the rest of the
year, but it is strictly enjoined me during your solemn fast. I
have been, and am, in very tolerable love; but of that hereafter as
it may be.
"My dear Moore, say what you will in your preface; and quiz any
thing or any body,--me if you like it. Oons! dost thou think me of
the _old_, or rather _elderly_, school? If one can't jest with
one's friends, with whom can we be facetious? You have nothing to
fear from * *, whom I have not seen, being out of town when he
called. He will be very correct, smooth, and all that, but I doubt
whether there will be any 'grace beyond the reach of art;'--and,
whether there is or not, how long will you be so d----d modest? As
for Jeffrey, it is a very handsome thing of him to speak well of an
old antagonist,--and what a mean mind dared not do. Any one will
revoke praise; but--were it not partly my own case--I should say
that very few have strength of mind to unsay their censure, or
follow it up with praise of other things.
"What think you of the review of _Levis_? It beats the Bag and my
hand-grenade hollow, as an invective, and hath thrown the Court
into hysterics, as I hear from very good authority. Have you heard
from * * *?
"No more rhyme for--or rather, _from_--me. I have taken my leave of
that stage, and henceforth will mountebank it no longer. I have had
my day, and there's an end. The utmost I expect, or even wish, is
to have it said in the Biographia Britannica, that I might perhaps
have been a poet, had I gone on and amended. My great comfort is,
that the temporary celebrity I have wrung from the world has been
in the very teeth of all opinions and prejudices. I have flattered
no ruling powers; I have never concealed a single thought that
tempted me. They can't say I have truckled to the times, nor to
popular topics, (as Johnson, or somebody, said of Cleveland,) and
whatever I have gained has been at the expenditure of as much
_personal_ favour as possible; for I do believe never was a bard
more unpopular, _quoad homo_, than myself. And now I have
done;--'ludite nunc alios.' Every body may be d----d, as they seem
fond of it, and resolve to stickle lustily for endless brimstone.
"Oh--by the by, I had nearly forgot. There is a long poem, an
'Anti-Byron,' coming out, to prove that I have formed a conspiracy
to overthrow, by _rhyme_, all religion and government, and have
already made great progress! It is not very scurrilous, but serious
and ethereal. I never felt myself important, till I saw and heard
of my being such a little Voltaire as to induce such a production.
Murray would not publish it, for which he was a fool, and so I told
him; but some one else will, doubtless. 'Something too much of
this.'
"Your French scheme is good, but let it be _Italian_; all the
Angles will be at Paris. Let it be Rome, Milan, Naples, Florence,
Turin, Venice, or Switzerland, and 'egad!' (as Bayes saith,) I will
connubiate and join you; and we will write a new 'Inferno' in our
Paradise. Pray think of this--and I will really buy a wife and a
ring, and say the ceremony, and settle near you in a summer-house
upon the Arno, or the Po, or the Adriatic.
"Ah! my poor little pagod, Napoleon, has walked off his pedestal.
He has abdicated, they say. This would draw molten brass from the
eyes of Zatanai. What! 'kiss the ground before young Malcolm's
feet, and then be baited by the rabble's curse!' I cannot bear
such a crouching catastrophe. I must stick to Sylla, for my modern
favourites don't do,--their resignations are of a different kind.
All health and prosperity, my dear Moore. Excuse this lengthy
letter. Ever, &c.
"P.S. The Quarterly quotes you frequently in an article on America;
and every body I know asks perpetually after you and yours. When
will you answer them in person?"
* * * * *
He did not long persevere in his resolution against writing, as will be
seen from the following notes to his publisher.