[1] Wilkes-Barre, Wyoming Valley, Luzerne County, Pennsylvania, United States of America, June 25, 1843.
Honoured Sir,
If you deem an apology necessary for intruding upon you – let the plain, republican admiration of the highly esteemed author be my excuse – the admiration of a man to whom our age owes more than our childrenʼs children can repay – new and purer feelings upon art, and its holiest applications; the attempt, at least, to turn philosophyʼs eye inward upon the soul, and to compound the most sacred elements of its spiritual powers with the ingredients of human knowledge; above all the successfull discovery of a richer India than Vasco da Gama opened unto Europe, whose value is not in its spices, and its pearls, and its Barbaric gold, but in tracks of science unexplored – in mines long unwrought, of native wisdom – in treasures deeply buried, of symbolic learning – and in monuments long hidden, of primeval and venerable traditions. Your works, beyond all others, which have been reprinted in America, have contributed to exalt and purify modern science and literature, and no other works of the kind have effected so much good among the reflecting and intellectual portion of the American public. Until now I have known your works only in the english dress, and I cannot resist the desire to read your writings in the original; at the same time I will not hide from you how much honoured I should be, if you would condescend to present me with a [2] copy of your works. Such a gift would be unmerited indeed, but not the less appreciated on account of its being derived directly from the author, whose autograph would still more enhance the value of the volumes. The possession of a relique of Shakspeare could not cause me greater joy than your works, which shall form an heir-loom in my family. But there is one thing that grieves me – it is the reflection of the impossibility of reciprocating your kindness.
Since, in early youth, I visited Germany and Switzerland, I have cultivated the language which was that of my maternal ancestors, the ruins of whose castle still mirror themselves in the blue waves of the Rhine. How much I should be delightful in revisiting the scenes of my early ramblings – I should thus have an opportunity of shaking hands with the man whose genius has formed my constant admiration. But this wish, I fear, will remain unaccomplished – Below. – May God bless you, and grant you many happy days yet! – this is the most sincere wish of
your
most humble obedient servant
T. Geo. G. Byron.
Address:
To Lieut. Col. T. Geo. G. Byron.
at Wilkes Barre, Luzerne Co. Pa.
care of Mr Edmund Baldwin,
No 155. Broadway,
New York.
[3] [leer]
[4] To
Professor von Schlegel
at
Bonn on the Rhine
Germany.
Honoured Sir,
If you deem an apology necessary for intruding upon you – let the plain, republican admiration of the highly esteemed author be my excuse – the admiration of a man to whom our age owes more than our childrenʼs children can repay – new and purer feelings upon art, and its holiest applications; the attempt, at least, to turn philosophyʼs eye inward upon the soul, and to compound the most sacred elements of its spiritual powers with the ingredients of human knowledge; above all the successfull discovery of a richer India than Vasco da Gama opened unto Europe, whose value is not in its spices, and its pearls, and its Barbaric gold, but in tracks of science unexplored – in mines long unwrought, of native wisdom – in treasures deeply buried, of symbolic learning – and in monuments long hidden, of primeval and venerable traditions. Your works, beyond all others, which have been reprinted in America, have contributed to exalt and purify modern science and literature, and no other works of the kind have effected so much good among the reflecting and intellectual portion of the American public. Until now I have known your works only in the english dress, and I cannot resist the desire to read your writings in the original; at the same time I will not hide from you how much honoured I should be, if you would condescend to present me with a [2] copy of your works. Such a gift would be unmerited indeed, but not the less appreciated on account of its being derived directly from the author, whose autograph would still more enhance the value of the volumes. The possession of a relique of Shakspeare could not cause me greater joy than your works, which shall form an heir-loom in my family. But there is one thing that grieves me – it is the reflection of the impossibility of reciprocating your kindness.
Since, in early youth, I visited Germany and Switzerland, I have cultivated the language which was that of my maternal ancestors, the ruins of whose castle still mirror themselves in the blue waves of the Rhine. How much I should be delightful in revisiting the scenes of my early ramblings – I should thus have an opportunity of shaking hands with the man whose genius has formed my constant admiration. But this wish, I fear, will remain unaccomplished – Below. – May God bless you, and grant you many happy days yet! – this is the most sincere wish of
your
most humble obedient servant
T. Geo. G. Byron.
Address:
To Lieut. Col. T. Geo. G. Byron.
at Wilkes Barre, Luzerne Co. Pa.
care of Mr Edmund Baldwin,
No 155. Broadway,
New York.
[3] [leer]
[4] To
Professor von Schlegel
at
Bonn on the Rhine
Germany.
