364—to Thomas Moore.
November 30, 1813.
Since I last wrote to you, much has occurred, good, bad, and indifferent,—not to make me forget you, but to prevent me from reminding you of one who, nevertheless, has often thought of you, and to whom
your
thoughts, in many a measure, have frequently been a consolation. We were once very near neighbours this autumn; and a good and bad neighbourhood it has proved to me.
Suffice
it to say, that your French quotation
was confoundedly to the purpose,—though very
unexpectedly
pertinent, as you may imagine by what I
said
before, and my silence since.
However
, "Richard's himself again,"
and except all night and some part of the morning, I don't think very much about the matter.
All
convulsions
end with me in rhyme; and to solace my midnights, I have scribbled another Turkish story
—not a Fragment—which you will receive soon after this. It does not trench upon your kingdom in the least, and if it did, you would soon reduce me to my proper boundaries. You will think, and justly, that I run some risk of losing the little I have gained in fame, by this further experiment on public patience; but I have really ceased to care on that head. I
have
written this, and published it, for the sake of the
employment
,—to wring my thoughts from reality, and take refuge in "imaginings," however "horrible;"
and, as to success! those who succeed will console me for a failure—excepting yourself and one or two more, whom luckily I love too well to wish one leaf of their laurels a tint yellower. This is the work of a week, and will be the reading of an hour to you, or even less,—and so, let it go ——.
P.S.—Ward and I
talk
of going to Holland. I want to see how a Dutch canal looks after the Bosphorus. Pray respond.
Footnote 1:
Moore wrote to Byron in 1813 an undated letter, in which the following passage occurs:
"I am sorry I must wait till 'we are veterans' before you will open to me 'the story of your wandering life, wherein you find more hours due to repentance ... than time hath told you yet.' Is it so with you, or are you, like me, reprobate enough to look back with complacency on what you have done? I suppose repentance must bring up the rear with us all; but at present I should say with old Fontenelle, Si je recommençais ma carrière, je ferais tout ce que j'ai fait."
Footnote 2:
Colley Cibber's
Richard III
, act v. sc. 3:
"Conscience, avaunt! Richard's himself again."
Footnote 3:
The Bride of Abydos
was published December, 1813.
Footnote 4:
"Horrible imaginings."
Macbeth
, act i. sc. 3.
