The chief inducements, on the part of Lord Byron, to this unworthy alliance were, in the first place, a wish to second the kind views of his friend Shelley in inviting Mr. Hunt to join him in Italy; and, in the next, a desire to avail himself of the aid of one so experienced, as an editor, in the favourite project he had now so long contemplated, of a periodical work, in which all the various offspring of his genius might be received fast as they sprung to light.  With such opinions, however, as he had long entertained of Mr. Hunt’s character and talents[1], the facility with which he now admitted him—­not certainly to any degree of confidence or intimacy, but to a declared fellowship of fame and interest in the eyes of the world, is, I own, an inconsistency not easily to be accounted for, and argued, at all events, a strong confidence in the antidotal power of his own name to resist the ridicule of such an association.

[Footnote 1:  See Letter 317. p. 103.]

As long as Shelley lived, the regard which Lord Byron entertained for him extended its influence also over his relations with his friend; the suavity and good-breeding of Shelley interposing a sort of softening medium in the way of those unpleasant collisions which afterwards took place, and which, from what is known of both parties, may be easily conceived to have been alike trying to the patience of the patron and the vanity of the dependent.  That even, however, during the lifetime of their common friend, there had occurred some of those humiliating misunderstandings which money engenders,—­humiliating on both sides, as if from the very nature of the dross that gives rise to them,—­will appear from the following letter of Shelley’s which I find among the papers in my hands.

TO LORD BYRON.

“February 15. 1823.

“My dear Lord Byron.

“I enclose you a letter from Hunt, which annoys me on more than one account.  You will observe the postscript, and you know me well enough to feel how painful a task is set me in commenting upon it.  Hunt had urged me more than once to ask you to lend him this money.  My answer consisted in sending him all I could spare, which I have now literally done.  Your kindness in fitting up a part of your own house for his accommodation I sensibly felt, and willingly accepted from you on his part, but, believe me, without the slightest intention of imposing, or, if I could help it, allowing to be imposed, any heavier task on your purse.  As it has come to this in spite of my exertions, I will not conceal from you the low ebb of my own money affairs in the present moment,—­that is, my absolute incapacity of assisting Hunt farther.

“I do not think poor Hunt’s promise to pay in a given time is worth very much; but mine is less subject to uncertainty, and I should be happy to be responsible for any engagement he may have proposed to you.  I am so much annoyed by this subject that I hardly know what to write, and much less what to say; and I have need of all your indulgence in judging both my feelings and expressions.