believed the disgraceful story
related of him in connection with his first wife. Years after, when I
called upon the second Mrs. Shelley, who, then a widow, was living out
of London, I related to her what I had heard. She assured me that it was
a most infamous falsehood, one of the many that had been maliciously
circulated about her husband. I expressed my sorrow at not having been
undeceived earlier, and assured her I never could forgive myself for
crediting a slander that had prevented me from knowing Shelley. I was
much pleased with Mrs. Shelley." Landor's enthusiasm was most aroused at
generous deeds; for these he honored Shelley. Meanness he scorned, and
believed it to be an attribute of Byron. As a proof of contrast in the
natures of these two poets, he related an interesting anecdote, which
has appeared in one of his Conversations. "Byron could comprehend
nothing heroic, nothing disinterested. Shelley, at the gates of Pisa,
threw himself between him and the dragoon, whose sword in his
indignation was lifted and about to strike. Byron told a common friend,
some time afterward, that he could not conceive how any man living
should act so. 'Do you know he might have been killed! and there was
every appearance that he would be!' The answer was, 'Between you and
Shelley there is but little similarity, and perhaps but little sympathy;
yet what Shelley did then, he would do again, and always. There is not a
human creature, not even the most hostile, that he would hesitate to
protect from injury at the imminent hazard of life.' ... 'By God! I
cannot understand it!' cried Byron. 'A man to run upon a naked sword for
another!'"

And this Shelley, who, through a noble impulse, would have sacrificed
himself, is the man whom Moore seriously advised Byron to avoid, lest
his religious theories should undermine the immaculate morality of the
author of Don Juan! It is to be supposed that Moore wrote in earnestness
of spirit, yet it is impossible not to smile in wonderment at this
letter. Moore doubtless had greater belief in salvation by faith than by
works. "Ah, Moore was a superstitious dog!" exclaimed Landor one day. "I
was once walking with him in a garden," (I forget in what part of
England,) "laughing and joking, when Moore remarked the approach of some
dignitary of the Catholic Church. He immediately began to mumble
something, ran forward, and on his knees implored a blessing from the
priest, crossing himself with reverenti