[ [378] {339}[This appreciation of the Mysterious Mother, which he seems to have read in Lord Dover's preface to Walpole's Letters to Sir Horace Mann, provoked Coleridge to an angry remonstrance. "I venture to remark, first, that I do not believe that Lord Byron spoke sincerely; for I suspect that he made a tacit exception of himself at least.... Thirdly, that the Mysterious Mother is the most disgusting, vile, detestable composition that ever came from the hand of man. No one with a spark of true manliness, of which Horace Walpole had none, could have written it."—Table Talk, March 20, 1834. Croker took a very different view, and maintained "that the good old English blank verse, the force of character expressed in the wretched mother ... argue a strength of conception, and vigour of expression capable of great things," etc. Over and above the reasonable hope and expectation that this provocative eulogy of Walpole's play would annoy the "Cockneys" and the "Lakers," Byron was no doubt influenced in its favour by the audacity of the plot, which not only put septentrional prejudices at defiance, but was an instance in point that love ought not "to make a tragic subject unless it is love furious, criminal, and hopeless" (Letter to Murray, January 4, 1821). He would, too, be deeply and genuinely moved by such verse as this—
"Consult a holy man! inquire of him!
—Good father, wherefore? what should I inquire?
Must I be taught of him that guilt is woe?
That innocence alone is happiness—
That martyrdom itself shall leave the villain
The villain that it found him? Must I learn
That minutes stamped with crime are past recall?
That joys are momentary; and remorse
Eternal?...
Nor could one risen from the dead proclaim
This truth in deeper sounds to my conviction;
We want no preacher to distinguish vice
From virtue. At our birth the God revealed
All conscience needs to know. No codicil
To duty's rubric here and there was placed
In some Saint's casual custody."
Act i. sc. 3, s.f. Works of the Earl of Orford, 1798, i. 55.]
[ [379] {340}[Byron received a copy of Goethe's review of Manfred, which appeared in Kunst und Alterthum (ii. 2. 191) in May, 1820. In a letter to Murray, dated October 17, 1820 (Letters, 1901, v. 100), he enclosed a letter to Goethe, headed "For Marino Faliero. Dedication to Baron Goethe, etc., etc., etc." It is possible that Murray did not take the "Dedication" seriously, but regarded it as a jeu d'esprit, designed for the amusement of himself and his "synod." At any rate, the "Dedication" did not reach Goethe's hand till 1831, when it was presented to him at Weimar by John Murray the Third. "It is written," says Moore, who printed a mutilated version in his Letters and Journals, etc., 1830, ii. 356-358, "in the poet's most whimsical and mocking mood; and the unmeasured severity poured out in it upon the two favourite objects of his wrath and ridicule, compels me to deprive the reader of its most amusing passages." The present text, which follows the MS., is reprinted from Letters, 1901, v. 100-104—
"Dedication to Baron Goethe, etc., etc., etc.
"Sir—In the Appendix to an English work lately translated into German and published at Leipsic, a judgment of yours upon English poetry is quoted as follows: 'That in English poetry, great genius, universal power, a feeling of profundity, with sufficient tenderness and force, are to be found; but that altogether these do not constitute poets,' etc., etc.
"I regret to see a great man falling into a great mistake. This opinion of yours only proves that the 'Dictionary of Ten Thousand living English Authors'[[A]] has not been translated into German. You will have read, in your friend Schlegel's version, the dialogue in Macbeth—
"'There are ten thousand!
Macbeth. Geese, villain?
Answer. Authors, sir.'[[B]]
Now, of these 'ten thousand authors,' there are actually nineteen hundred and eighty-seven poets, all alive at this moment, whatever their works may be, as their booksellers well know: and amongst these there are several who possess a far greater reputation than mine, though considerably less than yours. It is owing to this neglect on the part of your German translators that you are not aware of the works of William Wordsworth, who has a baronet in London[[C]] who draws him frontispieces and leads him about to dinners and to the play; and a Lord in the country,[[D]] who gave him a place in the Excise—and a cover at his table. You do not know perhaps that this Gentleman is the greatest of all poets past—present and to come—besides which he has written an 'Opus Magnum' in prose—during the late election for Westmoreland.[[E]] His principal publication is entitled 'Peter Bell' which he had withheld from the public for 'one and twenty years'—to the irreparable loss of all those who died in the interim, and will have no opportunity of reading it before the resurrection. There is also another named Southey, who is more than a poet, being actually poet Laureate,—a post which corresponds with what we call in Italy Poeta Cesareo, and which you call in German—I know not what; but as you have a 'Caesar'—probably you have a name for it. In England there is no Caesar—only the Poet.
"I mention these poets by way of sample to enlighten you. They form but two bricks of our Babel, (Windsor bricks, by the way) but may serve for a specimen of the building.